Page 3 of Love's a Witch
“Run, MacGregor. Take your curse with you and run.”
PRESENT DAY
CHAPTER ONESloane MacGregor
Welcome to Briarhaven, Scotland’s most magickal town.”
I glanced at the video playing on my sister Lyra’s phone to see a woman in a blush-pink pantsuit and perfectly coiffed blond tresses beam into the camera. Her smile fought the tight skin of her face, and her widened eyes held a slight maniacal glow.
“She seems a bit tense,” I said, returning my gaze to the road that curved through a canopy of trees with twisted branches arching overhead.
“She looks like a fembot.” Nova, the youngest of us three, leaned forward from the back seat.
“Be sure to book your tickets in advance for the VIP Briarhaven experience. If you’re lucky, you might even get upgraded to our full moon package!” Pink Pantsuit’s voice sounded as plastic as she looked.
“She’s like the people who harass you to buy time-shares anytime you book at an all-inclusive hotel,” I said.
“And remember… in Briarhaven, we believe in three things: magick, mirth, and mystery! Charm on, witches!”
“?‘Charm on, witches,’?” Nova mimicked, easing back. I snorted.
“Mirth?” Lyra turned the word over on her tongue. “When was the last time you heard someone say ‘mirth’?”
“Mirth happens,” Nova said, winking at me in the rearview mirror.
“For what it’s mirth, I think it’s an underused word.” I slowed the car as we approached a tight turn in the hills.
“Mirth you.” Lyra glowered, letting out a little huff as she settled back against the seat.
I grinned at my impossibly beautiful sister.
Lyra had the kind of looks that made men and women alike stop in their tracks, police officers fumble their words and never issue tickets, and grown men send extravagant gifts. The most extravagant giftI’dever received from a boyfriend was a coupon for a buy-one-get-one-free ice cream at Dairy Queen.
As if on cue, we rounded a corner to see a rustic wooden sign, covered in vines and thorns, tucked next to the road beneath the shaded bower of trees that had grown tighter and darker upon our approach.
“Briarhaven. Population 3,333.”
“Repeating threes, how original.” I could all but hear Nova rolling her eyes in the back seat.
Nova had an edgy beauty that reminded me of thorns tucked among rose petals. A budding tattoo artist who was developing a rabid following online, she’d come out of the womb far cooler than I could ever aspire to be.
“Okay, but, wait a minute… would you justlookat this? Bloody hell, I think they’ve given the town an actual makeover.” Lyra leaned forward as we left the tunnel of trees and Briarhaven spread before us. Tucked at the base of sharply edged mountains, the village was colorful and charming, like someone had flicked a paintbrush full of color against a rich green canvas. Golden trees with leaves just on the cusp of turning amber blanketed the hills, and a stunning loch shimmered in the distance. Since we’d last been here, it seemed the town had quite literally been made over into a theme park–like tourist attraction.
Shocked at the transformation, we could only gape as I drove slowly past the main square, gilded sunlight spearing through puffywhite clouds, sidewalks busy with tourists, some dressed in cosplay with witch hats or fake fae ears. A breeze blew a scattering of amber leaves down the street, and a stall selling freshly picked apples was set up near the sidewalk. A poster for an upcoming Halloween costume contest was taped to a black light pole with an old-timey lantern at the top, and I shook my head.How would tourists ever compete with magickals when it came time to dress up?
“It’s incredible what they’ve achieved in the last eight years. I mean, I can hardly recognize the place,” Nova said. I nodded, my nerves kicking up as I turned down our childhood street—memory lane, so to speak. We all went silent as I pulled to a stop in front of a run-down cottage tucked in a row of detached houses that had also experienced the same glow-up as the rest of the town. Ours stood out like a sore thumb.
“Well, this is a hot mess.”
“It’s not a hot mess, it’s just…” I trailed off as we looked out the car window at our childhood home. A two-story cottage, overgrown ivy obscuring the gray stone exterior, with one shutter slung askew, barely hanging on.Same, shutter. Same.
“A dumpster fire?” Lyra suggested. Nova nodded her agreement, and I sighed.
“A project.” Unbuckling my seat belt, I cracked the car door open, stood, and stretched. A crisp autumn breeze teased my hair, and burnt-umber leaves fluttered to my feet. Nature’s glitter, throwing a goodbye party before the plants slept for the winter.
If I looked closely enough, I could see the threads of memories wrapped around the house—snatches of arguments, broken magick misfiring, rare moments of laughter. It was home because it was the longest the MacGregor clan had managed to stay in one spot, together, before the curse that plagued our bloodline—like a mosquito buzzing when you’re desperate for sleep—forced us to move on.
It had been years since we’d been back to Briarhaven, and I never would have returned if not for one very specific reason. The onewoman I couldn’t refuse had called me home to break our family curse.
