Page 6 of Big Witch Energy

After they left the shop, Caroline dragged a push broom behind them, obscuring their footprints as they walked toward the square. The snow on the main sidewalk was so thoroughly marked with boot prints that no one would be able to determine what belonged to them. She dragged her late brother’s old baseball cap out of her coat pocket and slapped it over her chin-length dark hair. She wasn’t about to suffer the indignity of a cold on top of smelling like the discount-store version of Strawberry Shortcake.

Sally floated over the surface of the snow, almost passively, as they walked through the dark, silent Main Square of Starfall. In the distance, the icy wind howled over Lake Huron’s black waves with all the petulant force of an angry ex, but here, protected by the attached line of little shops, it was eerily silent. Caroline loved seeing their little town at night, like a slightly spooky Christmas card, no people or noise to disrupt the loveliness of the island under snow. Of course, it also meant an absence of the luscious melting sugar and chocolate smell that drew tourists to the island’s fudge shops every spring, but one couldn’t have everything.

Riley giggled as her feet slipped in the snow. They bobbled the cake stands but never lost their grip on them. It was like a haunted episode of The Three Stooges. Even as Sally yelled for them to watch themselves, Caroline only rolled her eyes.

They’d become a coven almost by accident. The magic had chosen Alice and Caroline to be Riley’s partners in this venture—helpmates to assist the last of the Dentons to carry the burden of Shaddow House and all its craziness. And despite the unease of now seeing ghosts in places she’d previously considered “safe,” Caroline found she didn’t mind. They’d managed to get through their encounter with an undead “client” unscathed, and with a relatively peaceable solution.

“Remind me again why your family had to build this place on a hill?” Alice grumped as they hefted the stands up the road to Shaddow House, careful to avoid shops and houses they knew to have security cameras.

“Almost there,” Sally sighed, staring up at Shaddow House. What had started off in the late 1700s as an isolated and stately family home on the hill had sort of mutated over decades of renovation to a semi-Victorian monster with a turret tower and rather melodramatic, gingerbreaded front porch with a variety of chimneys and additions that didn’t make any sense. The robin’s-egg blue siding contrasted sharply with the pale grays of the other houses, including—nope, nope, not time to think about that now.

Better to focus on the ghostly menagerie Caroline was about to walk into. It was never a good idea to walk into Shaddow House unguarded. There were hundreds of ghosts within its walls, attached to unlabeled objects all over the house. Literally anything in the house could be haunted, from the furniture to the dishes to Plover’s beloved silver mail tray.

“You know I enjoy our outreach work with the undead community, but shouldn’t we be focusing our energy on the search for the Welling locks?” Alice asked as they made the final climb to Shaddow House’s gate. “Particularly during the slow season.”

“What, are you afraid that our search for vital magical ritual objects won’t fit into your tight schedule?” Caroline teased.

A year ago, it would have ended the conversation and Alice would have crossed the street to avoid Caroline for weeks. But now, Alice only rolled her eyes and said, “You know what I mean. The sooner we find the ghost locks and eliminate the threat, the better.”

Caroline shivered. While she still didn’t fully understand why a rival magical family would enchant a bunch of magical copper paperweights to enthrall the dead, it didn’t sound like something she wanted in the hands of people who had proven themselves to be untrustworthy and sort of murdery.

Riley huffed. “Right now, the greatest threat is all of us sticking to the sidewalk in a film of frozen fruit-scented blue glop. Let’s move.”

“Caroline?”

Caroline froze in her tracks. She knew that voice. She’d spent every waking hour of her teenage years mesmerized by that voice. No. No. Nonononono.

She could feel every crinkle of faux blueberry-scented gel on her skin as she turned around.

Dr. Ben Hoult, her high school sweetheart, was standing on his parents’ porch in all his way-too-fit-to-be-approaching-middle-age glory. Somehow, she’d mentally blocked that his childhood home was right next door to Shaddow House. He’d moved away years ago, so seeing him there again… It was like she’d been electrocuted, every muscle frozen, unable to move an inch. Or maybe Riley’s dire warnings about sticking to the sidewalk had come true.

His face—how was it possible he was still so damned handsome?—was illuminated by his phone. His eyes were still that impossible shade of hazel that looked green in some lights and golden-brown in others. His hair—yep, he still had all of it, despite her more gleeful imaginings—was still dark molten gold, save for the slight feathering of silver at the temples. He’d grown a short, but impressive, beard, something he’d always wanted to do when they were kids, but had never managed to pull off because, you know, hormones are mean.

He was altogether beautiful, damn her eyes.

And Caroline and her friends were holding technically stolen furnishings on their way into a haunted house that no one on the island had been allowed into since they were kids. And they’d been none-too-quietly discussing magic and ghosts while covered in blueberry-scented goo. Again, while carrying stolen bric-a-brac.

Of all the weird things Ben had seen her do in their teenage years… This was still pretty bad.

Chapter 2

Ben

Ben was really hoping that moving to a remote island near Michigan’s Upper Peninsula would mean that his kids’ cell phone signal would be so weak, he wouldn’t have to compete for their attention with a dozen social apps he didn’t fully understand. But no such luck. Signal strength here on Starfall was just strong enough to send Mina and Josh running for their rooms to complain to all their friends back in Arizona about their boring and grooooooss new home.

How he felt the depth of disappointment and disdain communicated by all those extra teenager O’s.

“Dad!” Mina yelled from upstairs. “Josh took the good bedroom! He was supposed to take the last one on the right! He is in direct violation of a verbal agreement painstakingly negotiated while driving between Iowa and Ohio.”

“The Iowa-Ohio Housing Agreement is rendered null and void by the fact that one party negotiated while unaware that the last bedroom on the right is painted pink with lace curtains!” Josh hollered back almost immediately after. “I’m all for fluidity in gender norms, but add to that the fact that the windows face east, meaning I will take a direct shot to the eye from the morning sun, the totality of disadvantages outweighs the goodwill earned by honoring the agreement! Besides, Mina sleeps like the dead. If she’s stabbed in the eye by the solar system, she won’t even feel it. I will!”

“It’s not about the wall color or your fragile sleep cycle. Sleeping in the smaller bedroom on the left puts me at the disadvantage of having access to two electrical outlets, instead of four, which is why I negotiated for the blue bedroom in the first place! I have way more electronics than you, when you consider my hair-care routine, and therefore, I need more outlets! And the bookshelves, which will be of no use to you!” Mina screeched. “Your lack of foresight does not invalidate the agreement!”

From the safety of the dark, cold porch, Ben sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was it that his kids used bigger words when they were cranky and tired? They sounded like underage college professors. He blamed private schools.

“Besides, more windows mean more sunlight, which means your corner of this icy hellscape will be warmer!” Mina cried.

Oh, Ben did not have it in him to explain that—unlike back in Arizona where sunlight turned any room into a pleasant greenhouse—windows did not make for a warmer room in Michigan. Windows only gave the cold air more places to creep in and make sleeping in three layers of clothing necessary.

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