Not really, anyway. Sure, I’d heard the talk around town about Aunt Colette when I came to visit as a kid.The Goode Witch,they’d whisper.She’s an odd one…And, sure, I knew she dabbled in all things occult. She was a true believer, and proud of it. But she never gave me the slightest indication, as she poured over old grimoires at The Gallows and taught me about Gaia, that she was the High Priestess of a practicing coven. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine her castingspells (Hexes? Curses? Enchantments?I wasn’t up on the correct terminology) or dancing naked in the light of the full moon with her spirit-sisters.
I’d foolishly assumed her interest in witchcraft was purely academic. A hobby — much like my fascination with ancient architecture, or my penchant for clicking my way down a never-ending black hole of Wikipedia pages in a futile attempt to learn all I could about any given random topic, like the Kennedy curse or the history of marshmallow fluff or the evolution of deep sea creatures.
“Look at her face,” Sally said, not unkindly. “We’ve shocked the poor girl. She’s white as your backside in January, Agatha.”
“You leave my backside out of this, Sally.”
“I might be able to, if it wasn’t so large. Can you still fit through the front door without turning sideways?”
“At least my knockers aren’t down to my waist! Tell me, Sally, do you have to special order your bras from the local quarry? I’d think they’re the only ones capable of handling boulders that size.”
“You bitter cow! Take it back!”
“You started it!”
I swallowed down a laugh, trying not to let my amusement show as my eyes bolted back and forth between Sally and Agatha. A deep, martyred groan from Eliza drew my gaze. Her lips were pursed, her eyes narrowed behind her owlish lenses.
“You two! That’s enough,” she chastised her accomplices. “Focus. You can fight later.”
They instantly fell silent, but continued to exchange sneers and vulgar hand gestures behind Eliza’s back, like little girls on the school yard. It was a struggle to keep my expression serious as I stared at my neighbor, who was regarding me solemnly.
“Gwendolyn. You really must heed our warning. You have no idea the danger you will be in if you don’t.”
“What do you expect me to to?”
“Leave,” she said simply. “Leave Salem and never return.”
My mouth gaped open like a fish on dry land, making soundless gulps for air. “But…” I shook my head. “I can’t just leave.”
“You can and you will if you know what’s good for you.” Her expression was resolute, no trace of sympathy or softness to be seen. “Put your house on the market. Find someone to run the business in your stead. Or better yet, sell it off. There are plenty of eager buyers, and we are not entirely without resources. We could find someone in a matter of days.”
Okay. Now, I was getting annoyed. Actually, it was more than annoyed. I was getting downrightangry.
“I am not selling Aunt Colette’s house,” I growled through gritted teeth. “And I’m not passing off the shop to some random stranger. You say you cared for my aunt… how do you think she would feel to hear you encouraging me to liquidate all her assets and erase her legacy?”
“Youare her legacy, Gwendolyn,” Eliza insisted. “Not a shop. Not a house.”
In the space of a heartbeat, my eyes started stinging with unshed tears. An overwhelming wave of longing swept over me, through me, hitting me square in the heart. I wished Aunt Colette were here with a fierceness that stole my breath. If she were here, none of this would be happening. If she were here…
I blinked the gathering tears back and grasped onto my simmering anger instead. If I stayed angry, perhaps I wouldn’t fall apart.
“Forget it,” I snapped. “I’m not going anywhere.”(Literally. Those bonds at my wrists were inescapable.)
“Don’t you understand?” Eliza took a half-step closer to me. “You are Colette’s only living descendant. You were like a daughter to her. She cherished you with her whole being. She would want you safe. She would want you protected. That’s why we are here. That’s why we must intervene. If you won’t leave of your own free will… if you won’t heed our warnings…” She paused, glancing at the other women. As if they’d been waiting for this cue, Sally and Agatha stepped forward so the three of them were standing shoulder to shoulder in a unified line before me. “Then, you give us little choice,” Eliza finished softly.
“What?” I looked from Sally to Agatha to Eliza, my gaze beseeching. “What does that mean?”
“The Heretics cannot regain their foothold here, child,” Sally whispered, round cheeks flushing. Several mousy brown tendrils had escaped her chignon and frizzed around her temples. “We cannot allow them to break the binding curse we cast so many years ago.”
“You cannot be serious!” I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. (I went with the third option.) “THIS IS RIDICULOUS! THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS CURSES! OR SPELLS! OR WITCHES!” I yanked at my bindings. “LET!” Yank. “ME!” Another yank. “GO!”
The ropes didn’t even loosen.
“The cost of their malevolence is far too high for any of us to pay,” Agatha said, as though I’d never spoken. (Shouted.) “It’s your blood they need to break the curse. Should they succeed in unlocking their powers… it would be the end for us all. Best to keep you out of their hands.” She nodded with conviction. “Best to keep you here.”
“WHAT?!”
“Only temporarily, of course. Until we can make other arrangements. More permanent ones, somewhere out of town.”