Page 81 of Summer L.A.W.

Brianna sipped her coffee. “Then it’s definitely time. Pack your celebratory herbs and tools from the greenhouse for Lammas. Tennessee’s expecting us.”

Chad backed toward the door. “We’ll, uh…” He grabbed Sebastian’s sleeve, “get out of here.”

Brianna kissed him goodbye. “You’ll be fine. And so will we. Crowe’s already scouting the mountain’s perimeter. Just explain the mansion’s teleportation and warn our scientist not to open any glowing doors until we’re back.”

The mansion rumbled underfoot, humming louder. Golden light laced the walls, and air pressure shifted. “Let’s go, Dr. Voss!” Chad yelled, and the men ran down the mansion’s steps to the safety of the manicured lawn.

“Brace yourselves,” Brianna warned as the whole structure began to shimmer.

“The mountains are about to get emotional,” Magda added.

Wally dove into Magda’s satchel as the potion flared bright pink.

Then the world tilted. Light, wind, and vibrations folded in on themselves, and the mansion vanished from Long Island, leaving Chad and Sebastian standing in the quiet aftermath, looking at the mansion’s hologram.

21

The teleport hit like a magical roller coaster. The mansion re-formed not with grace but with a dramatic whump, shaking loose half the pine needles in the Tri-State area. Windows rattled. Shutters flapped. A family of deer bolted into the underbrush, alarmingly startled.

Magda exhaled slowly, bracing herself on the nearest wall. “Okay, that was extra.”

Brianna steadied her coffee. “Teleport turbulence. The mansion’s still sensitive.”

The mansion took offense and flickered the hallway lights in a mild strobe.

“See?” Brianna muttered.

Sahara peeked through the front window. “Good news. We’re in Tennessee. Bad news: we appear to have landed slightly crooked.”

The whole mansion tilted twelve degrees to the left. Wally slid across the polished marble floor like a furry hockey puck and bumped into Joell’s boots.

Joell sighed. “We are not living at a funhouse angle all week.” She snapped her fingers. “Mansion, straighten yourself up.”

The mansion grumbled. The floor leveled reluctantly, like a teenager getting out of bed before noon.

The front doors burst open before anyone could comment. “Welcome home!” sang Esmerelda, the mountain witch neighbor, wearing a flour-dusted apron and a smile bright enough to cleanse bad karma. She carried a tray piled with fresh-baked brownies.

“Lammas brownies,” she announced. “Infused with grounding herbs, emotional stabilizers, and one defensive blessing because y’all look like chaos dipped in sparkles.”

“That’s accurate,” Magda admitted.

Wally tried to climb Esmerelda’s leg for a brownie. She hip-checked him aside with the ease of someone who had clearly met wallabies before.

“Not for familiar stomachs,” she warned. “Unless you want to see sounds and hear colors, little fella.”

Wally squeaked, afraid.

Brownies distributed, emotional magic settling, and lamplight flickering on in welcome, the witches were only starting to breathe again when Crowe sauntered up the walk from the tree line. He didn’t appear out of thin air or leap theatrically from a branch. He simply arrived with the smooth, unnervingly silent grace of someone who had spent most of his existence as a stealthy black cat. His expression was calm. His clothes were forest-dusted. His hair was wind-ruffled in a way that definitely made Joell smile.

“Perimeter’s secure,” he said, voice low and warm. “No threats. No traps. Just one extremely offended possum who believes I trespassed on his personal space. I relocated him to a faraway tree.”

Esmerelda snorted. “That’s Earl. He complains about everyone.”

Crowe shrugged. “He started it.”

Joell’s shoulders dropped a full inch in relief. “Sounds like we’re safe. I trust your instincts.”

Crowe dipped his head slightly — not quite a bow, not quite a flirtation, but something in between. His sly smile confirmed his intention as flirtation.