Page 21 of Mated to the Monster Under my Bed
“Unfortunately, we’re a witch short,” Celia said. She smiled. “Or we were until you turned up, Danni.”
“Wait…what? You think I’m supposed to join your coven?” My voice cracked slightly.
“We think Hidden Hollow brought you here for a reason,” Willow said, smiling. “Just like it brought all of us. The town calls magical people it needs to it… people who need to get away from the Human World.”
“You don’t have to decide anything now,” Goody Albright said, patting my hand comfortingly. “But just know, whatever you decide, you’re not alone. We’re glad to have you here, Danni.”
“How did you come here, if you don’t mind me asking?” Willow said, raising her eyebrows. “I was chased here by a Hell Hound,” she added, grinning.
“I got a magical invitation from my Great Aunt who had disappeared years before,” Celia added.
“A leprechaun brought me an invitation after my Mom died,” Sarah put in.
“And as I think I told you, I was just running to the ladies room at my work to cry and instead I ran through a door that led me here to Hidden Hollow,” Harmony added.
“I’ve always been here, right from the town’s founding after the Salem Witch Trials,” Goody Albright said, smiling. She winked at me. “I’m older than I look.”
“Wow…” I stared at all their expectant faces. “I’m afraid I don’t have a really exciting story to tell. I just got two keys in my late husband’s will that led me here. One helped me draw a door and the other one opened my Grandma’s cottage.”
“Oh, is that the new place I saw on the way here that just appeared on that empty lot at the end of Main Street?” Willow asked, looking interested.
“The very same,” Goody Albright said, answering for me. “Danni’s grandmother was a very powerful witch who left Hidden Hollow to marry a mortal man with no magic.” She shook her head and made a tsking sound. “Such a waste of a good witch!”
“So…was the house hiding itself until Danni appeared or what?” Sarah asked. She looked at me. “I inherited my grandmother’s house too. It was just waiting for me to come back here.”
“Exactly.” Goody Albright nodded. “I believe the cottage was waiting, dormant, until the rightful heir returned. Which is you, Danni. And if you’re anything like your grandmother, I do believe you will have formidable magic…when it comes to you.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said uncertainly.
“Of course not—you haven’t drunk the memory tea yet.” She patted my hand. “Don’t worry—all things come at the proper time here in Hidden Hollow. In the meantime, we’re just glad to have you here.”
My throat tightened. I looked around the booth. All these women sitting here, their lives transformed by this impossible place.
And now… here I was, too.
Outside, the wind howled softly and blew another swirl of golden leaves across the windowpane. I felt a shiver go down my spine.
Maybe I had been called here after all.
Maybe I wasn’t crazy to believe in the monster under my bed.
Maybe I had finally come home.
13
DANNI
I returned to the cottage after setting a time for Harmony’s first knitting lesson and saying goodbye to all my new witch friends. It was strange how quickly my life had turned around since coming to Hidden Hollow. Only that morning I’d been standing in my soon-to-be foreclosed house in a bathrobe, feeling like the world had forgotten me. Now, I had people to talk to, a purpose—however small—and a cottage that felt more alive than most places I'd ever called home.
I paused in the doorway of the bedroom. Should I go in? My heart beat faster as I crossed the room and crouched to lift the corner of the quilt. No eyes peered out at me from the shadows. Still, the room held a presence, like something unseen was watching—or waiting. Not threatening, exactly. Just…there. I couldn’t explain it, but the sense of it settled over my skin like a breath—like the memory of a touch.
The scent of fur and cedar and cinnamon lingered faintly in the air. It curled in my nostrils and stirred something deep inside me—a whisper of familiarity I couldn’t pin down. A name tickled the back of my mind. Shadow Boy.
I turned abruptly and walked out of the room, pushing the memory down. I didn’t want to think about it, not right now. My stomach growled and I realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and I had only had a cup of tea at the diner. It was time for dinner.
The kitchen welcomed me with the smell of home. The loaf of homemade bread I’d found in the oven when I first arrived sat on the counter, now wrapped in a checkered towel. Had the cottage done that? I had no idea. Regardless, it smelled delicious and I decided I was going to have some.
I sliced into it with a worn bread knife I found in the drawer, the crust cracking just right and the warm, yeasty scent making my mouth water. I found the white American cheese in the fridge—don’t ask me why but it tastes better than the yellow stuff. I layered slices between the bread and slathered the outsides with butter, then set the sandwich in a cast-iron skillet I found hanging from a hook over the stove.
