Page 38 of Wicked Witch

“Witches you’re okay with, but a ghost freaks you out?” the man says, playing with a camera strap around his neck.

He seems shy.

“I’ve known Wynter for a long time,” I mumble, then rub the back of my neck. I don’t know why, but I feel almost bad for being so rude.

“Arnie, where did he go?” Wynter asks the man, and he points toward a gravel path with a broken gate.

“Cirrus, can you go find him? Make sure he’s okay. Arnie said something about wolves in these woods. And not the normal kind. Why would he just leave? Is he stupid?”

Pulling out my phone, I try to call him, but there is no signal.

“In a dead zone, remember?” Arnie jokes, and I actually grin.

Cirrus mumbles something about my brother under his breath, then stomps off.

“What can I do?”

Wynter yawns, glancing around the town square. There’s a path along the other side, and she walks that way.

“I need to find a way to break this curse and fast,” she shouts, glancing at me from over her shoulder. “How are you with a hammer?”

I smirk, and she rolls her eyes. “Not in the mood, Sin,” she mumbles, and I sigh.

“Astor and I have helped Rus with his projects before. Just because I sit at a desk and help preteens for a living doesn’t mean I’m incapable of doing other things.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Fuck, I’m tired.”

Walking back to the house, I notice a glow in the window across the road.

“Hey, are we the only people here?”

“No, I think there are a few others, but they haven’t come over to introduce themselves yet, and honestly I’m not in the mood.”

Who else would want to stay here? The air alone makes chills run down my spine.

Entering the house, Wynter mumbles something, and a ton of candles appear lighting the kitchen.

“I’d like to do this room first, then the downstairs bathroom and bedrooms. I don’t know how long this will take, and I’d rather not stay at the motel forever.”

Nodding, I grab a hammer and remove some nails in the walls. “What are you wanting to do in here?”

It’s a large space and I could see adding an island in the middle with some stools. Maybe marble counters and gray cabinets.

There’s even space for a coffee bar.

Closing her eyes, she mutters something, then smiles.

“Can I show you?” she asks, offering me her hand.

Dropping the hammer, I shuffle closer and take her hand. Sparks run along my skin at our touch, and I lean closer.

“Close your eyes and take a deep breath,” she says. I follow her instructions and wait.

A little girlsits at the kitchen island, whining about pancakes. Cirrus bounces a little boy in his arms as he makes himself a cup of coffee.

The walls are white with gray cupboards and dark marble countertops.

“Holy shit.”I let go of her hand and run my fingers through my messy hair. I didn’t see Astor or myself in her vision, but the kitchen was almost identical to what I pictured.

---