She hadn’t grown up in this little slice of perfection in the North Georgia mountains. Her parents had lived in Atlanta, and while Vivi missed them both a lot, she’d always be grateful she’d landed here in this spot that felt tailor-made for her somehow. This perfect small town where she could balance being a witch and a regular woman. Best of both worlds.
Elaine’s house was set high on a hill at the end of a winding road, and as Vivi drove up under the bright orange and red leaves, her tires bumping on the dirt road, she felt her shoulders start to relax a little, and once the cabin came into sight, she actually sighed with happiness.
Home.
Once she’d parked behind Elaine’s ancient Volvo, Vivi jogged up the front steps, past the grinning pumpkins and dangling bats and little lights in the shape of purple witches.
Aunt Elaine always went all-in for Halloween.
Just inside, Vivi stopped to pet Sir Purrcival where he was curled up in his basket. He was massive now, a hulking mass of black fur and green eyes who adored Gwyn and tolerated Elaine and Vivi, and she considered herself lucky when he only took the laziest of swats at her hand before settling back into sleep.
“I know, I’m late again!” Vivi called out as she gave him one last pet.
Elaine drifted into the hallway, her ash-blond hair piled messily on top of her head, her black skirts brushing the floor.
If Stevie Nicks taught middle school art was the way Gwyn always described her mother’s look, and that was not far off. But it worked on Aunt Elaine in a way Vivi never could’ve pulled off. She’d stick to her floral prints and polka dots.
“You know,” Aunt Elaine said, placing a beringed hand on her hip, “if you’d just come to work for me, you would be around all the time and never have to worry about being late.”
An old argument, and one that, as usual, Vivi waved off. “You two do fine without me.”
Something Wicked sold various witchy things, from candles to scarves to soap, with the occasional homemade jam thrown in. Business always picked up this time of year, thanks to Founder’s Day, but it wasn’t unusual for them to go days without a single sale, so Elaine and Gwyn could easily run the place by themselves.
“We might do even better with you, though,” Elaine said as Vivi moved down the hallway and into the kitchen.
Of all the rooms in the house, this one always felt the most witchy. Copper pots hanging from hooks on the ceiling, little pots of herbs all along the windowsill, Elaine’s candle-making supplies cluttered on the table.
The effect was only slightly spoiled by Gwyn standing by the stove, wearing a T-shirt that said, Witch Don’t Kill My Vibe, and eating macaroni and cheese out of the pot.
“Business has picked up so much in the last few years,” Elaine went on, languidly moving back toward the table. “Gwyn can barely keep up with the online orders.”
Gwyn nodded, her messy bun of red hair nearly coming undone. “Everyone’s a witch these days,” she said, mouth full. “We sold, like, a hundred sets of tarot cards last month alone.”
Vivi raised her eyebrows as she went to the fridge to grab a bottle of wine. “Jeez, seriously?” Her aunt’s business had always been more of a hobby than an actual moneymaker, but Elaine had refused to get anything resembling a real job, and Gwyn wasn’t all that inclined to join the workforce, either.
“Self-care and all that,” she said now, placing the pot back on the stove and crossing one foot over the other. Glancing down, Vivi could see she was wearing the bright-green-and-black-striped socks that were perpetual bestsellers at Something Wicked.
“Tarot cards, crystals, candles, grimoires . . .” Gwyn ticked the items off on her fingers. “We can barely keep things in stock. I’m going to have to hire someone just to handle the online store. You could totally do that.”