Page 5 of Magic's Rise

But I can’t handle any more pie. A girl’s got to draw a line somewhere.

WAND BLOCKED

As we walk up to the house, my eyes widen at the hundreds of pumpkins forming an orange-and-white moat surrounding our house. A scarecrow peeks from the gate near the garden, and someone had strung garlands of fall leaves around the banisters.

“What in the world…?” My head swivels from side-to-side as I take it all in. “What ghost of autumn hell threw up all over our house?”

Tris grins with delight at the excess. “We are so going to win that porch contest!”

“We live on a hill!” I throw my arms outward to encompass all the empty space with no other houses in sight. “They’re not going to come up here to look!”

“Sugar pie!” Tris darts forward to pluck a small, round pumpkin off the grass and holds it aloft by its stem. “Think Jesse will turn this one into a pie for me?”

I perk up with interest. “I’ve never had pumpkin pie from scratch before.”

Delilah pauses next to me, her breaths quick and her cheeks rosy from the walk up the steep driveway. “What happened to swearing off pie?”

“That’s apple pie. Pumpkin is different.” I scamper over and dig out another pumpkin that matches the one Tris grabbed. “We’ll need whipped cream. Text Owen to stop on the way home.”

“On it.” Tris tucks the pumpkin under his arm, transfers the empty pie pan to that hand, and pulls his phone from his sweatshirt pocket. He presses the record button and dictates into the microphone. “Owen, pick up some whipped cream at the store. For pie. If you want some for kinky times, buy extra. Hearts and kisses.”

“You forgot to tell him how much to bring.” Eager to get out of the cold, I hurry up the porch. “How will we know if he’s brought extra?”

“We’ll just have to assume based on the quantity.” Tris offers an elbow to help Delilah.

Our shoes leave dusty footprints on the stark white boards, the paint brighter than the rest of the house. The porch stairs had been destroyed when a werewolf not in control of his own mind had thrown a van door at me.

Haut fixed the stairs, then grumbled about the house needing a refresh once the weather warms up again. Tris and I have started a campaign for a purple house, but so far, we’re outnumbered two to three. Good thing we have a long winter ahead to bring one more of our housemates to our side.

As I open the front door, the warmth of the house wraps around me like a cozy blanket. The scent of savory stew fills the air, making my mouth water despite how full of pie I am.

Which lends credit to my belief that there is a dessert stomach and an everything-else stomach.

Murmurs come from the living room, announcing that some of the coven members have already arrived. I peek into the room on my right, next to the stairs, and see Ambyrlynn and Ginny sprawled out on the L-shaped couch, mugs of cocoa in their hands.

“Welcome home!” Harper pops out of the kitchen on my left. “The kettle is almost heated. Want some hot chocolate to warm up? Or would you prefer cider?”

Nausea threatens to eject an entire day’s worth of pie, and I suppress a gag. “Nothing apple flavored.”

“Cocoa it is.” She ducks back through the archway.

I take Delilah’s jacket so she can join the others, and then I follow Tris, pausing at the coat closet along the way.

Harper bustles around the kitchen, making herself at home as she prepares more drinks. Since we hold classes here, our house has become like a second home to the other witches in town.

Tris sets his empty pan on the counter next to two bubbling crockpots and places the pumpkin in the center. “Think this is enough of a hint?”

“Let’s make it clearer.” Digging another pan out from under the cabinet in the island, I set it beside his, along with my pumpkin. “There. No way he can miss that.”

“Rowe, Tris, come upstairs for a minute!” Owen yells from the second floor.

“What? No! You’re supposed to be at work!” Tris rushes toward the steep staircase. “How are you going to swing by the store if you’re already home?”

Owen appears at the top of the stairs. “Haut will pick up your whipped cream. He’s already stopping for bread.”

Hand on the railing, I hurry up after Tris. “Did you relay the whole message?”

His brow furrows. “I don’t know what blinky hems means, so no, I didn’t tell him that. You can text him an update.”

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