Page 2 of Accidentally Vacationed with an Incubus

So... yeah.

It had been a pretty stressful summer, all in all. And it was the only tangible reason I had to explain why I’d snapped.

The day was a bit of a blur, aside from the act itself.

I had spent the day alone, even though mom and dad had promised they would be at the Cadmuses’ for no more than an hour, and they would absolutely be back in time for dinner and a movie. But when four hours had passed with no sign of them... I was reeling.

So, I lay in bed, shoveling handfuls of cheap, stale chocolates left by Rowan mechanically into my mouth—because, y’know, he might have been stalking me, but dark chocolate paired well with dark thoughts—growing angrier with every bite. And when Mr. Cadmus called to say my mom and dad had offered to drive his wife to the local healer instead of coming home to at least catch the end of the movie, I snapped.

I walked out to my parents’ car, popped the hood, and cut their brakes.

I remember numbly lying in my bed, listening to heavy footsteps as they approached. They didn’t even pop their heads in to say sorry. And I didn’t flinch when, a few minutes later, the crash of their car was loud enough to rattle the windows in the house.

And when the mortal police came to the house, I told them everything.

“Miss Myers,” the guard said, snapping me back to reality.

I clutched my bag tighter as he tapped his pen against a form and slid the clipboard through the hatch. I didn’t bother reading it—everything was present aside from the wire cutters, and I definitely didn’t want them returned. I signed and slid it back.

“It’s time, Jen,” said a soft voice from behind me.

I clutched my bag even tighter to my chest and turned to face the warden. Her golden hair was slicked to her head, tied in a neat bun, her clothes crisp and pristine as if she’d only put them on, and hadn’t just finished a twelve-hour shift looking after the incarcerated.

The guard behind the desk narrowed his eyes at us, his disapproval of the warden personally escorting a murderer out only seconded by us being on friendly terms.

“It was fun while it lasted, Lobato,” I joked.

Her liquid gold eyes flickered, amusement dancing there for a fraction of a second before she gestured me out the door.

It might be hard to imagine how a reasonably powerful witch such as myself could allow themselves to remain incarcerated for so long in a mortal prison and not use their magic to break out.

The answer was twofold.

Firstly, and most importantly, I didn’t want to escape. I might not be able to fully understand what had led me to murder my parents, but I had done it. I deserved every moment of my sentence tenfold.

Secondly, I couldn’t have escaped even if I wanted to.

I hadn’t felt a flicker of magic for over nine years now. The second I’d set foot on Chumana Women’s Correctional Facilities’ grounds, my magic had been suppressed. Confused, I’d been immediately escorted to the warden’s office and found Lobato waiting for me, her head tilted in curiosity as she told the guards to leave us. The moment they’d closed the door behind them, she’d said, “It’s not often a witch crosses my threshold. I thought you sorted these things out among your own kind.”

Over the following nine years, Lobato hadn’t once divulged to me what kind of supernatural creature she was or how she had blocked my magic. Despite that, I’d come to think of her as a friend.

“Where will you go from here?” she asked as if she didn’t already know the answer. I would, of course, eventually have to return to my coven. I might have served my punishment in the eyes of the mortals, but I’d still have to face the coven’s judgment. And the battle-ax head of Briar Coven, Ms. Lily Cole,was more than I could handle at this time. A trial would be inevitable. Not only would I be expected to write down my version of the events leading up to that night, but I’d also be forced to relive it when my memory would be projected from her magic crystal ball for all to see and judge.

However, not only did Lobato’s magic suppress my own, it also prevented other magic from affecting me, at least until it wore off. Which could be anything from a week to a month, according to Lobato.

So, yeah, I couldn’t exactly go back to my coven, tail between my legs, and then demand that they hold off the trial until the crystal ball would work on me.

Besides, I hadn’t exactly done myself any favors by refusing to see the coven when they tried to visit me in prison over the years. My guilt and shame were so consuming I couldn’t face them demanding to know why I’d done it when I couldn’t even answer that for myself. After a while, they stopped trying to visit me. My cousin, Caitlyn, was the only witch in the coven who still religiously wrote to me every month, but I’d never had the heart to open any of her letters, no less respond to her.

“Home,” I replied.

If my home was still where I’d left it, that was.

The houses of the Briar Coven witches were magic, each with their own endearing—occasionally annoying—personality. And when our house first realized we were going on a camping trip, it didn’t want to miss out on the family fun and just magicked its way on over to Headless Hollow. It had been quite a surprise that first family vacation to find our own house waiting for us by the lake, and both mom and I had been glad that we didn’t have to sleep in the tent dad was eager to set up.

Fingers crossed, the house hadn’t magicked its way back to the coven in the nine years I’d been gone.

“Home,” Lobato repeated, staring at the clear blue sky almost wistfully. “I’ll be going on another sabbatical soon,” she said, her eyes not leaving the skyline. Every seven years, Lobato took a yearlong sabbatical, presumably to recharge from such an intense job. “My route takes me past Headless Hollow.” Her eyes finally dropped back to me. “I can stop by to see how you’re acclimatizing to civilian life.”

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