Death of the High Priestess is now available for purchase at Barnes & Noble and Amazon!

Chapter One

The OPEN sign winked at her from the front windows of Greene’s Organics. 

Signs didn’t normally wink in Waycross. It was a blatant violation of Coven code, but this was Sage’s shop, and he had made it pretty clear how he felt about the Coven. It gave her hope. 

The broad puddles on the sidewalk below the display window mirrored the sign’s bright neon lights, painting the dim October evening in brilliant shades of red and blue. Overhead, the dark clouds that blanketed the sky twisted. It was going to rain again. It had rained all morning and all afternoon. By the time the storms had passed, most of the leaves that had only just changed from green to brilliant shades of autumn were plastered on the ground. 

Honestly, Nova felt a little bit like those leaves. 

She huddled deeper into the driver’s seat, nervously tapping her thumbs against the steering wheel as she summoned the courage to leave the safety of her car. What if Sage wouldn’t help her? She tapped her fingers faster and glanced in the rear-view mirror. 

The containers and black garbage bags in her backseat blocked her view down the street. Until yesterday, Nova had been an Acolyte of the Coven, earning a wage for basically doing nothing. However, after the debacle of yesterday afternoon’s Coven meeting, she had become both homeless and jobless in a matter of hours. 

She’d stored what she could at the local storage shed farm, along with what was left of her mother’s things, but it was only a temporary solution. Without the Coven’s paying half of the fee, she couldn’t afford the shed’s rent for longer than a month or two. And after spending last night in her car, she knew she had to do something. Even if it meant swallowing her pride and asking for help.

As she watched, the front door of the store opened, and Sage stepped outside. He stuffed his hands into the front pouch of his red and white striped poncho and dashed across the street, hunching against the damp October air. He deftly sidestepped the puddles left behind by that morning’s storm as he jogged across the pavement to her parked car.

Jeff ‘Sage’ Greene was the last of the true hippies in Waycross. Nestled amid the rolling hills of the northern Appalachians, Waycross once boasted a thriving community of bona fide hippies back in the sixties and seventies. They had purchased a large tract of land in the hills above Waycross and lived in a commune. Things were peaceful until the eighties when the Feds raided the compound. Turns out, the peace-loving hippies had been cultivating psychedelic mushrooms and selling them for a tidy profit. Sage, barely a teenager, was the only one not arrested. Fortunately for him, the older hippies hadn’t trusted nineteen-year-old boys to handle the goods properly, and the DA had taken pity on him. With most of his family either in jail or lost to the winds, Nova’s grandmother had taken Sage in. So she reasoned he owed her family something. Maybe it was enough to persuade him to help her.

Sage approached her car and rapped loudly on the driver’s side window with his knuckle. She rolled down the window, coming face-to-face with her mother’s first love for the first time in nearly a decade. He wasn’t a handsome man by any stretch of the imagination. Tall and thin like a praying mantis, he was the sort of man you saw and then immediately forgot. The scent of rain and wet earth filled the car’s interior as he leaned forward, peering at her over the top of the window.

“Are you coming in or not?” he asked.

“They blackballed me,” she said, unable to keep the words from tumbling out of her mouth.

He hunched against the wind and nodded, the overcast sky reflecting off the shiny patches of his receding hairline. “I know,” he said, not unkindly. “Now come inside. I’m freezing my ass off.”

Without waiting to see if she would follow, he pivoted and made his way back across Main Street, nimbly hopping over puddles and potholes. Once under the safety of the awning, he glanced over his shoulder at her parked car before disappearing back inside the store.

Nova bit her lip and watched through the window as Sage wound his way through the interior of Greene’s Organics. She knew she didn’t have a choice. She was out of options. Without Ava or her mom, there weren’t a lot of places Nova could run to. 

Reluctantly, she got out of the car and followed him. She did her best to mirror Sage’s path across the road, leaping over the wide puddles and skirting the waterlogged potholes. But, she lacked the same grace as the aging hippie and ended up with cold water soaking the hem of her jeans. When she stood in front of the store’s window at last, trying to shake the water from her pants, she gazed up at the weathered sign. Seeing it made her nostalgic for the days when she and her mom used to come by the store so Camila could chat with Sage. Back then, the most pressing thing on Nova’s mind had been the possibility of getting a lollipop from the cash register. 

Now, things were quite a bit different.

A biting autumn wind blistered down the sidewalk, kicking up the damp leaves and blasting her with cold, sharp air that poked through her sweat and pricked the shells of her ears. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around her waist and pushed the door open, stepping inside as the bell jingled merrily over her head.

The air inside Greene’s Organics was warm and scented with cinnamon and caramel. The strains of a sleepy harp wove through the long open room while a moon-faced teenager in a black tunic and Doc Martens was stocking shelves out of the cardboard box at her feet. 

Sage was waiting for Nova on the other side of the old-fashioned wooden counter, rubbing his hands to ward off the chill from outside. Pam Olsen, the local hedge witch, sat in front of him at the bar, nursing a cup of tea. Her sensually plump figure perched on one of the many tall wooden stools that waited under the lip of the counter. Pam, a widow, supplied all of Waycross with organic fruits and vegetables from her farm up on Bluebird Hill. She also provided Sage with his supply of local fresh herbs. Many of them came with specific modifiers that catered to the Coven crowd, like being harvested under the light of a full moon or cut before dawn with a silver knife. She grinned good-naturedly and waved Nova over.

“It’s about time!” Pam’s voice was unexpectedly alto, with a texture that either came from laughing too much or smoking. Her smile lines deepened as she grinned at Nova. “We were about to take bets on when you’d come inside.” She eyed Sage. “Only this party pooper had to ruin the fun.”

Sage shot the hedge witch a scowl. “I don’t have time to stand around and wait for people who can’t make up their minds.” The last bit was directed at Nova. “So,” he said, leaning against the shelves behind him, “you wanna tell us what happened?”

Nova felt a little sick to her stomach and hugged her arms tighter around her waist. “They blackballed me,” she started, but Sage waved the words away.

“We know that part. Hell, everybody knows that.” He stared at her with murky green eyes. “What I want to know is why?”

The stool beside Pam hesitated, inching towards Nova as if the store was unsure whether to invite her to sit. Grateful for something to do other than standing around feeling like an outsider, she sat down. At Sage’s pointed gaze, she averted her eyes and shrugged. “I didn’t do what they said I did,” she said belligerently. The wooden seat beneath her warmed soothingly.

“You must have done something,” he argued, standing in front of the two women and bracing himself against the wooden counter like an old-timey bartender. Only instead of bottles of liquor lining the wall behind him, there were apothecary cabinets and thick wooden shelves filled with glass jars of tea blends. Wide cream tags with labels like ‘Mystic Moonlight’ and ‘Dark Divination’ were tied to the jars. Another set of shelves to his right housed dozens of spell books protected by ornate glass doors. Nova remembered her mother buying a book from those selves once. It had smelled like dried rosehip and lemon balm, and the memory of it made her smile.

But Sage’s gaze was still fixed on Nova, and the smile died on her lips. “They don’t just kick witches out for no reason,” he stated firmly, dragging her back to the present.

Nova glared at him. “I didn’t do anything wrong!” she said. “They said I was stealing, but I wasn’t! The only thing I did was give Joe Blackwell a friendship charm. His kid sister is getting bullied at school, and I thought if she could just make some friends-” She stopped when she realized Pam was watching her. The older woman’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “What?” Nova countered. “Not you too.”

Pam looked at Sage, but his indifferent shrug only deepened her frustration. “Sage,” the older woman admonished. 

“Don’t look at me,” he said waspishly. “You know I don’t take stock in all the Coven’s silly rules. What’s so bad about helping a kid?”

Pam sighed and, realizing she’d get no help from Sage, turned to Nova. “I know you meant well,” she said kindly, “but didn’t you hear what happened to that guy out west? He was caught by the COC for selling Love Charms. They stripped him of his magic and left him out to dry! You don’t want that to happen to you.”

Nova hunched into her sweatshirt and leaned her elbows against the counter, her shoulders weighed down by defeat. “I know,” she said glumly, settling her cheek against one hand. She’d seen the newscast, seen the COC representative at the press conference, talking about how it was the cardinal sin of witches, toying with human emotions. The dumbest part about the whole thing was that she did know. Her mother had drilled the Three Tenets into Nova, but it rankled her to see that sweet kid getting picked on. 

Sage watched her closely, his expression unreadable. 

“Can’t your dad help you out?” he asked.

Nova suppressed a laugh, but it caught in her throat and became a strangled cough. She hadn’t laid eyes on her dad since her graduation six years ago. “The last time I saw him, he made it pretty clear that I wasn’t the ‘right’ kind of witch,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “If I called, I’d only embarrass him,” she added, the bitterness in her voice exposing her pain.

Pam snorted in derision. “Your father was always too high and mighty for his own good. I never understood what your mama saw in him,” she said with disdain. Sage mimed money by rubbing his thumb against his fingers, and Pam laughed, thumping him in the arm. “Stop it,” she grinned. “You should know as well as anyone that Camila would have never valued money over substance.”

“And look how well that turned out for her,” Sage said, glowering. Then, he remembered himself and shot a glance at Nova. “Sorry, kid.”

“It’s fine,” Nova shrugged, trying not to let it sting. 

And it was fine. Mostly. She ran her thumb over the counter in front of her, feeling the grooves in the wood left behind by countless customers over the decades. Nova had come to terms with her mother’s death. Mostly. 

Pam sighed. “Things changed when she abdicated,” she said. “She and your grandma were always fair and kept the others in line.” Nova nodded. She’d heard the same thing out of dozens of mouths over the years. About how Camila and Constance Navarro had been an institution, how they had symbolized the golden years of Waycross. 

Sage’s eyes, which had been locked on Pam, now shifted to Nova. His brow furrowed as he leaned forward, and his eyes traveled Nova’s face, making her wonder what he saw. “So, what exactly do you want from me?”

“A job?” she asked hopefully. “Maybe let me rent that extra apartment of yours?”

He winced. “They had you in Coven housing?”

She nodded, looking down at her hands. Coven housing was notoriously awful, but she’d never cared. The money they paid her more than covered her expenses. “Can you help me out?” she asked, hoping the memory of her mother still meant something to him. But when she looked up, his face was mournful.

“I wish I could, kid, but I already have help in the store,” he said, gesturing to the green velvet curtain in the back of the store where she’d seen the teenager disappear. “And I just rented the apartment this morning.”

A heavy silence descended on the room, and Nova felt a leaden weight settle in her stomach. She swallowed hard, feeling the sour taste of stomach acid on her tongue. “Oh,” she choked out. 

Pam broke the silence with a grumble. “Oh, come on, Jeffry.” She pinned Sage with a pointed stare. “Can’t you work something out?” Her voice took on a plaintive tone. “Poppy won’t mind if you cut her hours. She only took the job to get away from me.” Pam grinned in self-deprecation, then called out to the back of the shop. “Soda Pop!”

“It’s okay,” Nova said quickly before the girl could answer her mother. “I’ll find something else. Maybe Gil has an opening.” Gil had always been nice to her, giving her and her mom extra fries with their subs.

Pam waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. Poppy would be happy to-”

“Stop,” Sage cut in. “Don’t I get a say in my own store?”

“Of course,” Pam started.

“Then why don’t you shush and let me do the talking?” he snapped, making a pinching motion with his hand. Pam’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click, and her eyes flared in outrage. It took Nova a second longer than it should have to realize Sage had magicked the other woman’s mouth shut. When he had proved his point, he made a circular motion with his hand, ending the spell.

“That was not nice, Jeffry-” Pam thundered when she could move her own mouth again.  

“Oh, hush,” he said. “You know I meant nothing by it. Now,” he said pointedly, glancing at Pam, “no one needs to have their hours cut. I admit, I’ve been considering taking on more help. Online ordering has picked up, and I’ve struggled to keep up. Now, keep in mind,” he cautioned, “I hadn’t planned on looking for a manager until the summer, but,” here he looked at Nova, his long face serious. “If you can prove to me you can handle this place, I’d be willing to give you a chance - for your mother’s sake, if nothing else.”

A wave of relief rolled over Nova. “Thank you,” she started, but he wasn’t done yet.

“Mind you; the apartment is out of my hands. The lease was signed, and it’s good for at least the next ninety days. So you gotta find yourself another place to stay.”

“She can stay with us,” Pam said, butting in.

Sage scowled at her. “Do you always have to have a solution to every problem?” he asked. “It’s annoying.”

But the other woman only smiled at him, her cheeks rosy. “We’ve got that apartment above the garage,” she said. She turned to Nova. “It’s got a kitchenette and a shower,” she said proudly.

Nova felt a warmth spread through her chest. “Thank you so much,” she said, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes, or she’ll never let you hear the end of it,” Sage said, a hint of a mocking smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Nova grinned at them. “Of course I will,” she said to Pam, then she turned to Sage. “And I won’t let you down, I promise.”

“Good,” he said, nodding. “You start tomorrow. Be here at seven.”

“I’ll be here,” she said, her voice firm. This was her chance, she realized. Her chance to show everyone she wasn’t a total fuck up, her chance to show Ava she could be a responsible adult. 

As she emerged from the store, the once sharp wind had abated, and a gentle warmth radiated through the thick layer of clouds. The setting sun’s feeble rays illuminated the sidewalk, casting a mellow golden glow on the world around her. As she inhaled the fresh air, she felt a renewed sense of optimism. She was buoyant, almost weightless- gliding on air. Stepping onto the curb, she turned back for one last look. The shop seemed to wink at her, the lights flickering once in a show of silent support, and for the first time in two days, Nova was convinced that everything was finally going to be alright.

How wrong she was.

Chapter Two

Nova woke up early the next morning and, for a second, had no idea where she was. The cool light of dawn slanted across an unfamiliar ceiling, and instead of the morning trains, all she could hear were geese honking in the skies above her roof. It took her brain a long moment to put the pieces back together, and when she did, she sleepily sat up and stretched, scratching her scalp under her messy sleep bun.

Pam’s apartment had grown chilly overnight, and Nova shivered, reaching for her discarded sweater from the floor. Pulling it over her head, she looked around the dim room. It was mostly empty, except for a few critical pieces of furniture like the bed, a loveseat, and a small set of table and chairs. She yawned and pulled the long sleeves of her sweater over her hands, bundling herself into the warm knitted interior. 

Man, she needed coffee.

Standing up, she padded barefoot across the cold wooden floor to the kitchenette, only to realize she didn’t have her coffee pot out of storage yet. Frustrated, she flopped into one of the chairs at the small table and stared out the window at the October fog that blanketed Pam’s farm. The mist painted the early morning in cool watercolors, blending the tall trees that bordered Pam’s yard with the grass and the white farmhouse on the other side of the property.

When Pam had mentioned the apartment was above the garage, Nova had assumed it would be next to the house. But what Pam called a garage was actually more like a barn, and it was closer to the expansive vegetable gardens than the house.

For the past five years, Nova had lived exclusively in Coven housing next to the main railroad tracks that ran through the eastern edge of Waycross. Once a prosperous rail waypoint, Waycross had hosted dozens of lines, connecting the big cities to the essential supplies they needed. Now, however, the town was slowly fading, and the tracks were more of an eyesore than a source of pride. Because Nova had gone directly from living with her mother to Coven housing, she had never lived out in the country before, and if she was honest with herself, it was disconcerting. Every bedroom she’d ever owned had come with ambient light from streetlights and the sound of trains to rock her to sleep. The country was too dark, too quiet, and too empty for her liking.

Nova got dressed, shivering in the chilly air. She pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a cozy sweater, her fingers tingling from the bite of the cold. She rubbed the pale mark above her wrist where the Link used to sit. It felt weird not to be wearing it. Not to having the constant pull from the Coven made her feel like something was missing; instead of the truth. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, brushing her dark curls and tucking them behind her ears. She took a deep breath, her chest swelling with forced confidence. “I got this,” she told herself. She slung her bag over her shoulder and descended the stairs to her new front door.

As Nova stepped out of the garage apartment, she was greeted by the chill morning. The sweet scent of apples hung heavy in the air, intermingling with the fragrance of fresh-baked bread and the earthy aroma of damp soil. She could hear the distant cawing of crows and the melodic chirp of songbirds as the world around her slowly came to life.

She carefully made her way through the rain-drenched grass to the main house. The night before, Pam had made her promise to stop by before leaving for Greene’s with the promise of providing her with a set of keys to the apartment.

Nova knocked on the side door. It was painted bright red and had the words “ENTER FRIEND” painted on the crossbeam. Nova smiled to herself. Only Pam would have a charm to encourage more friendships. A second later, the door opened, and Pam greeted her with a steaming mug of coffee and a warm smile. “Good morning,” Pam said, her voice comforting. She wore a black apron covered in flour, and her copper hair was escaping from the bun at the top of her head. “I hope you slept well.”

“Thank you, I did,” Nova replied, gratefully accepting the coffee and breathing in its heady aroma. “I really appreciate you letting me stay here.”

Pam waved one flour-covered hand dismissively. “Nonsense. It’s the least I could do. Now, have some breakfast before you head off to work.” She tottered back to the depths of the kitchen, and Nova followed, clutching the mug of coffee like it was a lifeline. The kitchen was warm and cozy, with the pale morning sunlight filtering through the windows and casting a soft glow over everything. Pam settled her at the island counter next to a dour-looking Poppy before returning to the stove. Poppy was dressed in black once again, and with her long black hair in braids, she looked like she was doing her best Wednesday Addams impression. She glanced at Nova as she sat but said nothing, going back to the large textbook in front of her. Pam returned a second later with a loaf of freshly baked bread, butter, and jam.

“The apples aren’t quite ready yet,” she explained, “but you’re welcome to help yourself to anything else you’d like.” Poppy, without looking up from the notebook she was filling with notes, grabbed a slice of the warm bread and took a large bite.

“Coffee’s fine,” Nova said, reaching for the creamer Pam set down in front of her. “I’m not much of a breakfast person,” she admitted.

Pam shrugged. “Neither is Pops,” she said, giving her daughter a fond smile. Poppy glanced up briefly at the sound of her name before going back to scribbling in her notebook.

“Big test?” Nova asked.

Poppy shrugged. “Something like that.” Outside, a horn blared, and the teenager jumped out of her chair. “The bus!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide. “I’m late!” She grabbed a second bread slice, shoving the first into her mouth while her mother helped her stuff her books into a battered backpack. Then she was gone, flying out the door and across the yard in big thick combat boots.

Nova checked the clock on the wall as Pam shut the door behind her daughter. It was only six-thirty. “Isn’t it a bit early for the bus?”

Pam grabbed another mug from the cupboard and poured herself a cup of coffee. “What can I say?” she shrugged. “It would be easier if I took her, but she’s at that age where just the sight of me embarrasses her.” Pam settled into the chair opposite Nova, reaching for the creamer. “She’ll grow out of it,” she said confidently, “but until then, I’m trying not to be a nuisance.” She took a sip of her coffee and closed her eyes blissfully. “Mmm. I need this today.”

“I hear you,” Nova said, taking a sip of her own coffee.

Pam grabbed a slice of bread and smeared butter and jam on it. “Are you ready for your first day on the job?” she asked, taking a bite.

Nova nodded. “I think so.” She took another sip of coffee, feeling comforted by Pam’s company. The older woman had a way of calming her anxieties, making her feel at home in a way she hadn’t felt in a really long time.

As they finished their coffees and Pam chatted about her farm, the clock ticked away the seconds. Nova kept one eye on the time. Although Greene’s was only a short drive away, she didn’t want to be late on her first day. Eventually, she had to excuse herself, and Pam walked her out of the kitchen. She pulled a ring of keys from one of the hooks beside the door. “Here you go, hun,” she said, handing them to Nova. “One for the apartment, one for the garage, and another for the main house just in case you need them.”

“Thank you,” Nova said, feeling grateful. “I really appreciate it.” She slipped the keys into her pocket and took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the day ahead. Pam called after her as she walked out the door. 

“Good luck today! I’ll see you later tonight!” Nova waved and smiled, feeling a surge of confidence. She knew she had Pam’s support, which somehow made all the difference. It had been a long time since she’d had allies. With a spring in her step, Nova got into her car and drove towards Greene’s, ready to tackle her first day on the job.

By the time she pulled into the small employee parking lot behind the store, dark clouds had filled the sky, and light drizzle was beginning. She put her car in park and got out, dashing around to the front of the building and gripping her bag against her side. The lights were on inside Greene’s, bright against the dim morning, and she could see Sage inside, dressed in another striped poncho, a blue and green one this time. He was busily organizing the shelves with his back to the street. Her sneakered thumped on the cracked front stoop as she made her way to the front door, the sound mingling with the distant hum of a train moving through the valley and the rhythmic dripping of water from the awning above the building’s wide triple entrance.

The old Victorian building that housed Greene’s Organics was zoned for mixed-use, housing a lawyer’s office on the other side and apartments above. The two businesses were bisected by an old-fashioned double door that led to the stairs of the apartments. As Nova waited for Sage to unlock the front door for her, she peered through the windows into the waiting room of the lawyer’s office. That side of the building looked to have been heavily remodeled at some point.

Behind her, the bell jingled, and she turned to see Sage pushing the door open for her. He looked serious, his expression unsmiling, but his eyes were friendly enough. “You’re on time,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Nova grinned at him, hoping to lighten the mood. “Surprised?”

He chuckled and gestured for her to enter. “A little,” he admitted. “You’re not exactly know for your timeliness.”

“Yeah,” she argued. She knew what other people said about her. “But I’m trying to change.”

As she stepped into the store, the interior of Greene’s Organics enveloped her in a warm embrace. The lighting was soft, the sconces set into the wooden shelves providing the only illumination. The store had a cozy, almost mystical feeling, with herbs, oils, and candles lining the shelves. Several boxes were open on the floor, filled with various products that Nova didn’t recognize.

“You can put your stuff in the back,” Sage instructed, picking up one of the boxes and placing it on the counter. “When you’re done, I need help restocking out here.”

Nova nodded and headed towards the back of the store, passing through the floor-length velvet curtain that separated the storefront from the storeroom. As she made her way into the anterior of the store, her eyes fell on an incongruous locked door, tucked away unobtrusively, which she intuited must lead to a basement. The rest of the backroom was a mess of opened boxes, half-used items, and packing supplies. She hung her bag on one of the hooks near the back door that led to the lot out back and looked around the room curiously. Several unopened packages were piled on a table next to the tiniest bathroom she’d ever seen. She briefly glanced over the packages. Some were outgoing, but quite a few were addressed to the shop and had names written in black Sharpie. As she glanced over the names, she felt her stomach fall. Most of them belonged to Midge. She hadn’t considered the possibility that the High Priestess would be frequenting the store. 

Sage poked his head through the curtain. “Ready?” he asked.

“Born ready,” Nova quipped, turning around quickly, pasting a smile on her face.

“Good,” he said, smiling thinly. “Let’s get started.”

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of activity, with Sage showing Nova the ins and outs of running the store. She quickly caught on, using her natural talents for organization to help with everything from stocking the shelves to managing online orders. There were some things she couldn’t do, like accepting used items for resale. Sage handled those, examining the items and offering a price. Sometimes the customer accepted the offer, but other times she could see in their faces that he had offered less than they expected.

“I didn’t know you did that,” she said after one such customer left disappointed.

He shrugged. “You’d be surprised what people will buy online.”

Thinking back to her last foray into online shopping, where she ended up with forty face masks she’d never used, she could agree.

All in all, it was a good first day. Everything was going fine. That is until Midge Jones walked in.

The older woman stormed through the store entrance, her jaw set and determined. Her coiling black hair had been tamed into a severe knot at the back of her neck, accentuating the wrinkles around her eyes and giving her an austere, surprised look. She marched over to the counter where Nova stood and, without a word, sat on one of the wooden stools. Midge didn’t waste any time asking questions as some other customers did. She simply observed Nova, taking in her appearance from head to toe before settling her bag on the counter.

“I’m here to pick up my order,” she stated, her eyes daring Nova to contradict her.

Nova nodded. “Sure,” she said, trying like hell to sound casual. She threaded her way down the long counter and slipped into the backroom. Carefully, she picked up the pile of packages and returned to the front. She set them on the counter in front of Midge, who inspected them. She turned her gaze back to Nova, and the older woman raised her eyebrows expectantly. Nova shifted uncomfortably on her feet.

“Is there something else I can get you?” she asked.

Midge rolled her eyes, clearly unsatisfied with the service she was receiving. “A quarter pound of ‘Witching Hour’,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She pulled out a handkerchief from her jacket pocket with her thick, ring-encrusted fingers and coughed wetly into it before depositing it back from whence it came.

Nova turned to the shelves of pre-mixed teas. This she could do. She’d already made up half a dozen tea orders that morning. She picked up one of the wooden scoops Sage kept for that very purpose and scanned the jars. Only she didn’t see Witching Hour among the labels. She looked a second time, sure she had just missed it. When she came up empty again, she was forced to turn back to Midge with a tight, apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t think we have that in stock.”

Midge sighed. “It’s a custom blend.”

“Oh,” Nova said. Knowing it was custom and not on the shelf made her feel less like an idiot. “What’s in it? I’ll mix up a batch right now-”

Midge glared at her. “Are you serious? I don’t know what he puts in it. Ask Sage.”

“Ask me what?”

Nova turned gratefully at the sound of Sage’s voice. He was pushing his way through the curtains, and when he saw Midge, he relaxed. He hurried down the counter, and Nova squeezed herself against the shelves to make room for him. He reached under the counter and pulled a small paper bag from one of the shelves under the cash register. He plopped it on the counter in front of Midge.

“There you go, buttercup,” he said, smiling at her.

The bell above the door jingled as a second customer entered. Nova glanced up, expecting to see Poppy, but was startled to find herself gazing at an unfamiliar face. He was striking, with slick dark hair styled into a smooth pompadour and a short cropped beard that hugged his angular jaw. He looked older than Nova, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties.

“Hi,” she said, forcing her face into a pleasant smile. “Can I help you?”

“Sorry to interrupt,” the stranger said, flashing her a smile, his white teeth brilliant against his warm coffee-colored skin. He pocketed his phone and came to stand in front of the counter. Midge watched him approach like a cat eyeing a mouse it wanted to eat. 

“I’m looking for Coven Hall,” he continued, “but it doesn’t seem to be on any maps.”

Nova’s eyebrows raised. “Oh,” she started, pushing a hank of curls behind her ear. “Well, you’re about a mile short.” She pointed up Main Street toward the heart of town. “It’s up that way, near the hospital.”

He pulled out his phone and laid it on the counter. A map app was on screen. “Can you point it out?” he asked. 

She bent over the phone, her curls falling into her face. She pushed them back impatiently and turned the phone horizontally between them. It took her a second to orient herself to the map, but when she had, she zoomed out with her fingers and pointed to Memorial Park, a rectangle of green in a sea of gray. “See the park here?” she asked. 

He bent close, and she got a whiff of his woody cologne. “Yeah.” With both their heads bent over the phone, it was almost intimate. She slid her finger down South Roberts Avenue until it hovered over a long, unnamed gray block on the screen. 

“This is the Coven.” She pointed to the surrounding buildings. “There’s a CVS across the street and a gas station on the corner. It’s not marked, but really, you can’t miss it. There’s a big red maple on the sidewalk outside.”

He nodded, a hank of his hair coming out of his stiff pompadour, then glanced up at her. That close, his eyes looked like two dark forest pools. “And where are we?”

She zoomed out further and pointed. “Here. At the top of Main Street.”

She could see him calculating the distance in his head. It was almost exactly one mile. “It’ll take you three or four minutes tops,” she offered.

“Are there any buses that head that way?”

She couldn’t help herself. She laughed. “A bus? In Waycross? You’ll have better luck calling an Uber, but only one or two people in town drive for them.”

He looked chagrined. “I already tried that.” He straightened and sighed. “Looks like I’m walking then. How long do you think that’ll take?”

She shrugged. “I dunno, a half hour, maybe?”

He nodded and sighed again. “Well, I better get going then.” He flashed her another megawatt smile. “Thanks for your help.”

He looked so forlorn at the prospect of walking she almost offered him a ride before she remembered she was still at work. Instead, she smiled back. “Good luck.”

Midge, who had been listening in, glared at Nova and snatched the bag off the counter, stuffing it into her jacket pocket. “Hold up, young man,” she said, turning to him and pushing herself off the wooden stool. “I’ll give you a lift. I’m headed there next, anyway.”

“No,” the stranger said, shaking his head. “That’s okay, really.”

“I insist,” she said, “I’m the High Priestess; I think I know the way,” she said archly.

“Thank you,” he said, his tone suggesting he was genuinely thankful. “I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” Midge said. She turned to Nova and Sage. “Greene,” she said by way of farewell, taking her packages and turning to leave. Then, she apparently thought better of it and turned back to him. “I expected better.” The bell above the door jingled as she left. The stranger lingered a second longer long enough to exchange a nod with Sage. 

“Do you know him?” she asked.

Sage nodded and watched the other witch and the stranger cross the street through the expansive front windows. “He’s my new tenant,” he said.

“So he’s the one that took my apartment,” she joked.

Sage turned and frowned at her. “It was never yours,” he started, but she held up her hands.

“I know,” she said. “Sorry, it was a bad joke.”

He sighed and rubbed the balding spots on his head. “Don’t worry about it, kid.” He turned to go, then stopped. “And don’t worry about the tea. I make a batch for her every week.” He tapped the counter. “I always keep it under here.”

She nodded. She wouldn’t forget that fact anytime soon.

By the time six o’clock rolled around, she was exhausted but in a happy sort of way.

“You don’t need to come in so early tomorrow,” Sage said as he closed the register. “Between you and me, we finished all the restocking. Just be here by nine, and we’ll be fine.” He grinned at his alliteration, opened the register, and took out the drawer. He picked out a key from the bottom of the tray and put it on the counter.

“What’s that for?” she asked, curious about what he would show her next.

“The door,” he said with a small smile.

She couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “Seriously.” But then he wagged a finger at her. “It’s a big responsibility. Don’t lose it. If I have to change the locks, it comes out of your paycheck.”

She barely resisted the urge to salute him as she picked up the key and slid it into her pocket. “I won’t,” she promised.

“Great, now I’ve got someplace to be,” he said, walking backward cheekily toward the storeroom. “Lock up on your way out.” He waved as he turned around and disappeared through the heavy curtains. A moment later, she heard the backdoor close.

The store seemed to hum happily, and she couldn’t agree more. Nova stuck her hand into her pocket, feeling the hard edges of the key, and grinned like an idiot. Nova was still grinning as she turned off the open sign and walked into the storeroom to turn off the lights.

Nova stopped grinning when her eyes fell on a small manila envelope sticking out from behind one of the large, open boxes. She could clearly read the name written on it in large, black letters: MIDGE.

Well, fuck.

Chapter Three

The sun had set an hour earlier, and the streets of Waycross were dark by the time Nova pulled out of the parking lot and onto Main Street. The rain had stopped sometime in the afternoon, but the October air still held onto the chill dampness, made colder by a sharp breeze blowing the fallen leaves into the street. After what had felt like an eternal summer, Autumn had finally come to Waycross. 

Nova tapped her fingers against the steering wheel in time to the song on the radio, a cheerful mix of bright beats and folky melody, as she waited for the light outside the shop to change. Mentally running down her to-do list (storage shed first, then dinner), she glanced at the passenger seat where the envelope sat on top of her bag. Everything else would have to wait until she dropped it off. She didn’t want Midge to get upset with Sage over something that was her fault. 

The light finally changed from red to green, and Nova sped away from the store, heading for the south end of Main Street where all the big, old houses lived. Bittersweet nostalgia haunted the darkened storefronts. This would have been her drive home in an alternate reality where her mother was still alive. She tried not to think about that, though. Camila’s death had been tragic, but luckily the Coven had stepped in and offered Nova a job as an Acolyte, giving her a place to stay and money in her pocket. She touched the brakes as she ghosted through the last intersection before the buildings changed from storefronts to full-on Victorian sudo-mansions.  

The street became noticeably quieter as the business district grew smaller and smaller in her rearview mirror. The song on the radio changed to the latest hit by KittE, and Nova hummed along as she drove slowly down the quiet street. The street lights threw their light across the damp road in plump ovals of warm light while the ancient maple trees that lined the curbs did their best to block the homes from view. She pulled up in front of the big Queen Anne Midge called home and cut the engine. Her stomach growling, she grabbed the manilla envelope and exited the car. 

The wind bit at the exposed skin of her neck, and she stuffed the envelope into her back pocket so she could hide her hands in the sleeves of her sweater. The wind pushed against her, smelling like wet leaves and damp earth. She dashed up the broken walk to the porch. She froze at the top of the stairs. The front door, an old-fashioned fixture with two narrow doors instead of one wide one, was open. Hesitantly, she crossed the porch. The floorboards, once painted a rich burgundy but now peeling, creaked under her weight. She stopped in front of the open doors and peered inside. 

Inside, the house was dark. 

“Hello?” she called, rapping her knuckles against the doorframe. 

She listened intently for Midge’s voice, but the only thing she could hear was the moaning of the wind. 

“Midge?” she tried again. “It’s Nova. You left a package at the store.” She paused again, listening hard. 

That was when she heard it. 

A rhythmic squeak, followed by a faint grunt. 

A muffled noise. A low groan.

Heat burst across Nova’s face as she realized what she was hearing. She quickly backed away toward the stairs, then remembering the envelope, she hastily pulled it out of her pocket and tossed it into the house, where it landed on the oriental rug of the foyer. Reaching out, she grabbed the door handle, trying not to hear the low, feminine moan, and hurriedly pulled it closed. 

She dashed down the stairs and practically ran to her car. As she was rounding the hood of her car, another vehicle came down the street and temporarily blinded her. She raised a hand to block their light and waited for them to pass before opening the car door and sinking into the driver’s seat. Once safely ensconced in her car, a hysterical giggle bubbled up inside her. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late, and soon she was laughing so hard her eyes teared up. 

“I’m glad the old bat is getting some,” she said to the empty car as she threaded her keys into the ignition and started the engine. She pulled away from the curb, made a U-turn, and headed toward the other end of town, where her storage shed waited, happily humming along to the music that poured out of the radio. 

She had a coffee maker to unpack.

When the alarm went off the next morning, Nova groaned and groped blearily for it with one hand. Her hand brushed against the smooth rounded sides of the clock and fumbled for the snooze button but accidentally pushed it off the small stool she’d set up next to the bed. The plastic clock clattered loudly to the floor, still beeping insistently. 

Nova groaned again and reluctantly sat up. She bent down and grabbed the little clock, quickly pressing the button to cancel the alarm. She flopped backward and tossed the clock away, where it landed with a soft thump in the blankets at the foot of the bed. Nova rubbed her eyes tiredly. 

Instead of just one, she ended up bringing three boxes back to the apartment and had spent most of the night unpacking. At least she’d found her coffee maker, she thought ruefully. 

She forced herself up and stumbled over to the kitchenette. Water, filter, coffee grounds, start. Padding into the bathroom, she fumbled for the light switch and caught sight of herself in the mirror. Red eyes, pillow creases on her face, and hair every which way. She winced and threaded a hand through her wayward curls, searching for the elastic but not finding it. Her sleeping bun must’ve come out overnight. Awesome. 

There were dark circles under her eyes, but they were a familiar sight. Over her years as an Acolyte, she often had to deal with her body’s response to magical drain. It would slowly build back up, but that would take time. She flexed her hands, wondering what it would feel like to have complete control over her own magic again. It had been years since she’d been the one in charge. Solitary witches might not have the sheer power Covens had access to, largely thanks to Acolytes like her, but at least they had a say over when and how their magic was used.

Thirty minutes later, fresh from the shower with a mug of hot coffee in her hand, Nova pawed through one box, searching through the clothes at the bottom for something suitable to wear. Unfortunately, with a wardrobe mainly consisting of leggings, jeans, and sweatshirts she didn’t have much to wear that would be considered ‘professional’. Even though Sage hadn’t said anything the day before, and she’d seen what Poppy wore to work, she felt self-conscious about her wardrobe and worried the Coven members who came in to shop would just see her old Acolyte self. Eventually, faced with no good options, she chose her favorite pair of leggings and the best, non-graphic sweatshirt she owned. She was just shoving her feet into her shoes when her phone beeped with a text message. 

She picked it up and thumbed the screen on. 

KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT

Dread unfurled in her stomach at the menacing words, and she nearly dropped her phone. After a moment’s hesitation, she typed a response. 

WHO IS THIS?

She waited, staring at her phone screen, her heart hammering loudly, but when the sender didn’t respond, she set the phone down on the table, her hands shaking. She rubbed them together, trying to ward off the chill that had suddenly come over her. What didn’t they want her to talk about? It didn’t make any sense. Was it even for her? What if it was a wrong number? Her first thought was to report it to the police, but then she dismissed it. What would she even report? A wrong number? She paced the floor wishing her mom was still alive. Camila always had advice for the challenging moments in life. 

She grabbed her bag from where it hung on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, but the strap caught on the chairback and tipped upside down, sending the contents spilling to the floor. Her grandmother’s tarot cards hit the hardwood, and the stained rubber band that held them together split, sending the cards ricocheting across the room. One card slid toward her, lodging under the tip of her shoe. 

The Moon stared up at her, its gilded winding path catching the light of the early morning sun outside. She could almost hear its small voice in the silent apartment. 

Nova’s grandmother had taught her to respect the cards. Constance had taught her to read them long before she ever picked up a phonics primer. The funny thing about tarot cards was that they never said the same thing twice. Constance Navarro had always been adamant that traditional tarot card guides were a bunch of crap. The Navarro matriarch had insisted that it was better to listen to your heart when reading the cards, and now, as Nova stared at the serene face of the Moon, all she could see was the darkness that lingered on either side of the moonlit path. This way, danger lies, her grandmother whispered from the depths of her memory. 

A chill ran down Nova’s spine and she ducked down and snatched the card up. She hurriedly gathered the scattered cards and patted them back into a loose block, leaving them on the table as she fled from the apartment, taking her bag and phone. It felt like The Moon’s darkness was still at her back as she thumped down the stairs to the door, and it filled her limbs with a nervous energy that awakened the ever-present anxiety within her.

She ripped open the door and came face to face with Pam, who had one hand raised to knock and carried a mug of coffee in the other. At Nova’s sudden appearance, she gasped and stumbled backward, the coffee sloshing over the mug’s rim onto the sleeve of her sweater. 

“Whoah!” Pam exclaimed, her eyes widening. 

Nova dropped her bag and reached out to help the other woman steady herself. “Sorry,” she said, the word spilling out in a breathless rush. “Are you okay?” 

Pam shook her head, her ginger hair flying around her face. “I’m fine,” she said, sounding winded. She gave Nova a concerned look. “Are you alright? I was getting worried. Poppy’s already off to school, and when you still hadn’t shown up, I thought I’d stop by.”

Nova pushed the text message out of her mind and smiled at the older woman. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just moving slow this morning, I guess.”

The other woman laughed, a jolly sound. “If that’s moving slow, then I don’t wanna be around when you’re going fast!”

Her laugh made Nova smile as she bent to retrieve her bag from the stoop. “Sorry for not stopping by last night,” she said. “I got back late.”

Pam shrugged, her expression good-natured. “Don’t sweat it,” she said. “Do you have time to chat with a lonely old woman?”

Nova’s smile widened. “You’re not old.”

Pam shouted with laughter and wound her free arm through Nova’s. “Oh, girly, sometimes I feel it.” She led Nova back across the lawn to the kitchen door. “So tell me,” she said conversationally, “how did your first day go?”

“Good,” Nova said, settling herself back into the same chair as the day before. Pam dumped the mug of coffee in the sink and refilled it from the pot. 

“No problems?” she questioned, setting it before Nova. 

Nova shook her head. “Not really. Midge came in, of course. That was awkward.”

“Oh?”

Nova nodded. “Yeah, she came to pick up her packages and some tea. Oh!” she exclaimed, remembering, “I met the guy renting the apartment from Sage!”

Pam settled herself across from Nova. “Who is it?”

Nova shook her head and reached for the creamer. “Someone new. Never seen him before.”

That caught Pam’s attention. “Really? What does he look like? You know, just in case I run into him.”

“Normal, I guess,” Nova said as she doctored her coffee. “Dark hair, dark eyes, he had a beard.” She was so bad at describing people.

“Good looking?” Pam probed. 

Nova felt the heat of a blush run across her nose. “I guess, if you’re into that sort of thing?” she said, annoyed at herself for physically responding. It made her feel like she was twelve years old. 

Pam grinned, unapologetic. “How old?” she asked. “For me, or for you?”

At that, Nova rolled her eyes. “How am I supposed to know that? Somewhere in the middle, I guess?”

The other woman leaned back in her chair and nursed her coffee. “Wouldn’t that be nice? I could go for a younger man. I haven’t had a decent boyfriend since I had that thing with Lawrence a couple of years back,” she mused. 

Nova gaped at her. “Wait. Lawrence, as in Lawrence Reynolds?”

Pam nodded, her eyes twinkling. “The one and only.”

“Damn, woman,” Nova said. “I’m not even into older guys, but that man is fine.” Lawrence Reynolds was a fifty-something widower and the most eligible bachelor in Waycross. Even Nova, who had spent the last decade in love with Ava Jones, wasn’t immune to the man’s charms. He had a smile that could light water on fire.

Pam shrugged, but her smile was smug. “What about you?” she asked. “Anything going on in your life?”

Nova looked down at her coffee and shrugged. There wasn’t, of course, not since Ava. “My life isn’t that interesting,” she said. 

“Oh come on now,” Pam protested. “It can’t be all that bad.”

Nova smiled, but it was tight. How could she explain that dating the High Priestess’s daughter had been the high point of her life? That nothing since had felt right?

Seeing her expression, Pam reached across the table and patted Nova’s hand. “It gets better,” she said, her tone and face suddenly serious. “After Poppy’s dad, I didn’t think I’d ever get back on the horse.” Her smile was kind. “It takes time.”

“Thanks,” Nova said, meaning it. Pam wasn’t the first to offer platitudes, but she was the first that Nova didn’t want to maul for just bringing up the subject. 

“Now,” Pam said, sitting back again and grinning like a teenager. “Tell me about this mysterious stranger of ours.”

Nova laughed at the older woman’s mischievous expression, but there wasn’t much more to tell. She explained how Midge had given him a ride to the Coven, about the map, about the weird fact that he didn’t have a car. 

“I wonder if he’s a Wanderer,” Pam mused. 

Nova hadn’t thought of that. “If he is, then it could be good for the Coven,” she said, thinking of the last Wanderer to pass through Waycross. She’d been seven then, and her mother had taken the wandering witch in, providing food and shelter for a little extra magic for the Coven’s coffers.  

Pam nodded in agreement. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. They’re gonna be hurting without you. Maybe he would help until they find a replacement.”

Eventually, Nova had to leave for work. When she stood up, the older woman came around the table and gave her a motherly hug. Nova leaned into it, grateful to have someone to lean on. She left with a promise to have dinner with the family that night and made the short drive down the hill into town. 

The day was slow and uneventful. She dusted the shelves and rearranged the display in the front window, adding string lights above the bright pumpkins. She made sure the freshness spell Sage had laid over the pumpkins was still strong before twirling her duster around the candles and fakes leaves, catching the webs of spiders foolish enough to think the display case a good place for a home. Sage popped his head in twice to check on her, but otherwise, she didn’t see another soul until Poppy came in a little after four. Greene’s was only a few blocks from the high school and the young girl still had her backpack slung over one shoulder. She had her severe black hair in pigtails, and the hairstyle made her look younger than she was. 

“Hey!” Poppy said, dropping her bag on the floor. “Did you hear the news?”

“What news?” Nova asked as she measured ‘Dreamer’s Delight’ into a small paper bag for Mrs. Bittle’s online order. 

“Midge Jones was murdered last night,” the young woman announced.

The wooden scoop slipped from Nova’s nerveless fingers. Shocked, she fumbled and picked it back up. “What?” she stammered.

A knowing smirk crossed the teenager’s face. “Yeah,” she said, her voice light. The corners of her mouth twitched. “That woman was a bitch, but it’s hard to believe, right?”