Page 17 of Cursing My Cheating Husband

The Cove of my childhood had been a study in deliberate dreariness, designed to repel curiosity from the outside world. No one ever wanted to spend much time in our town of plain gray buildings, tucked away on a perpetually rainy corner of the northern coast, surrounded by towering pines and steep hills.

Of course, we had always had our private magical spots that only the coven could access, so life hadn’t been without beauty. But every day, we still had to move through our bleak, rain-soaked public face, and that had never failed to depress.

That constant drab wetness had defined the Nightshade Cove of my childhood. The rain was still the first impression of the Cove today, but in a dramatically different way.

It was pouring, but none of it touched me. Instead, the deluge struck an invisible magical rain shield that arced high above, forming a vast canopy over the waterfront main street. Each raindrop burst into brilliant color, the contrasting hues streaming down the shield’s slope and over its edge, which extended out over the cove. The overflow created a psychedelic rainbow waterfall that filled the sky and bathed the street in shifting colors.

Given the density of the crowd around me, I understood immediately why the rain shield was essential. You’d never get the street packed with this many tourists if people had to brave the actual climate here.

Brie’s squeal jolted me. “She returns!”

It had come from behind me, and I spun to face her.

“Quite the glow-up, right?” Brie beamed, gesturing grandly at everything around us. The buildings and crowds extended as far as I could see, in both directions, another huge change from the eight blocks that used to make up downtown.

“That’s an understatement,” I replied. “I don’t recognize a thing.”

“Sure you do.” Brie pointed across the vast central plaza we stood in. “Look. We kept the old town square.”

I followed her finger and spotted it: a modest cobblestone square nestled among the sprawl. It had never been much, just a few flower beds and benches around a small gazebo and fountain. But the sight of it filled me with warmth.

Of course, now it was just one tiny bit of this immense concourse, dwarfed by the surrounding transformation. The area bustled with so much lively commerce: gleaming shop windows, floating vendor carts, street performers conjuring illusions.

But in the midst of all this, there remained the same weathered fountain of my childhood, its stone worn smooth by decades of rain. The gazebo stood beside it, its wooden posts darkened by age and moisture.

“How much time did we spend just talking in that gazebo?” I asked softly.

“A lot, given that it was the only dry spot in town. Remember how often we’d complain about how boring this place was?” Brie smiled. “Not a problem anymore!”

We joined the throng and started down the street, swept forward by the excited energy of the crowd.

“How did this happen so quickly? Two years ago, there was none of this.” My visit for Astrea’s birthday had been to a Cove as gloomy as ever. The only visible changes had been increased security measures, a precaution against the anti-witch militia that had taken up residence in the wilderness outside town.

“Well, never underestimate how quickly you can get construction done when you have an entire coven that can build magically in the open,” Brie answered with a knowing grin.

Which wasn’t what I had been asking. I understood the logistics. What I didn’t understand was finding the will to change, which the Cove of two years ago didn’t seem to have at all. Like most covens after we’d been revealed to the world, the Nightshade leadership had at first tried to just continue on as before, the only difference being that now we faced increased persecution.

We hadn’t been among the few covens that had embraced the possibilities of active outreach, and the ones that had gone that route had done it via the most respectable pursuits—education, museums, wellness.

But now it was the coven of my upbringing that had been the first to lean hard the other way, and go big on the light and frothy: a giant witchcraft theme park, a magical playground for fun-seekers of all ages.

This was too much to process while being swept along by the jostling masses, and in the next moment I was stopped dead in my tracks anyway. My mouth fell open at the sight before me.

Looming ahead of us was a strip club. The name was emblazoned in giant magical neon: The Naughty Nightshade.

An enormous line of rowdy men stretched down the concourse, waiting for admittance. In the meantime, they all stared hungrily up at a gigantic magical projection of a witch stripper that towered over the building, as tall as some of the neighboring highrises. She wore tiny short shorts and a skimpy bra, cut from the dark fabric of the stereotypical witch’s robes, topping it off with the cliché pointy hat. She was riding a broomstick and interacting with it in a shockingly indecent way. Her face contorted in orgasmic pleasure as it bucked and swayed beneath her, her hands seductively running up and down the shaft.

“Is that—” I sputtered. “It’s only eight o’clock! There are children everywhere!”

“The kids are fine, Callie. See the crystals?”

Now that she pointed it out, it was suddenly obvious that every kid had a tiny shimmering crystal adhering to their wrists.

“Child filter charms,” Brie continued. “All the hotels offer them now. Parents check in and get a charm that keeps the whole town on ‘child setting’ for the kids. They’re not seeing the stripper. They’re seeing a giant griffin advertising the zoo or something.”

I stared at her, my mind reeling. “That’s... brilliant.” I looked back at The Naughty Nightshade, then at Brie. “But still. A strip club? In Nightshade Cove?” I eyed the men waiting, and was unpleasantly reminded of Maddox. They all repulsed me.

“Well, when you rebrand yourself as the Vegas of witchcraft, you better be prepared for bachelor parties,” Brie shrugged, as if The Naughty Nightshade was as innocuous as the clothing and knickknack shops neighboring it.