Page 103 of Autumn L.A.W

“Ah,” Crystal said. “Pre-glow phase.”

“Everything happens for a reason,” Lioness reminded her. Some of the witches groaned. “I know it sounds placating, but it’s true!”

Victoria let out a breath she’d been holding. The lack of spectacle didn’t feel disappointing. It felt intentional. Like the magic was waiting for the last ingredient. She trusted Duke to come back with the corpse plant… eventually. Sometimes timing works out for the best, even if it doesn’t seem like it.

They closed the working with thanks, voices softer now, the energy easing from a roar to a steady pulse. Gratitude rolled through the circle, not forced, not by rote, but real. Victoria was grateful for the ingredients gathered. For the fact that, somehow, against all odds and some questionable decisions, they had almost everything they needed.

Almost.

Victoria’s gaze flicked toward the edge of the clearing. No Duke. Not yet.

“Patience,” Sahara murmured, catching her look of longing.

“Working on it.”

They opened the circle after thanking the deities for attending their ritual and releasing the energy, like a silent sigh. The boundary dissolved, and the outside world returned with crickets, wind, and the distant creak of branches.

“Food!” Magda declared, already heading toward the table where the feast had been laid out.

“Bless you,” Crystal said. “I hate going first, but I’m so hungry that I wanted to.”

Roasted vegetables, still steaming. Bread with a crust that cracked just right when torn. Wine that caught the lantern light like a garnet.

Victoria paused a moment, appreciating that everything was already done.

“They didn’t let you cook,” Joell said, handing her a cup.

“I’d be offended, but I’d sound like an ungrateful douche,” Victoria replied.

“You’re welcome.”

Laughter came easily. Conversation overlapped, bounced, spread into side tangents about everything and nothing. Someone told a story that involved a cursed blender. Someone else insisted it had been possessed, not cursed, which was a very important distinction.

Victoria found herself laughing along, the tension that had been coiled tight in her chest for days finally unwinding.

Above them, the moon climbed, bright and unapologetic.

When the last of the food was gone, and the wine had dwindled to a few sips, they drifted back toward the mansion in loose clusters, still talking, still connected by something that didn’t require a circle.

Victoria lingered a moment behind the others. The ritual space looked ordinary again. Just grass. Just trees. But she could still feel it. That warmth. That sense of being exactly where she was supposed to be, even if everything else about her life was currently questionable.

She glanced down at her hands. Same foreign hands. Same foreign body. But for the first time, it felt like a temporary problem.

Behind her, the mansion lights glowed through the trees, warm and steady. Home. Not the penthouse apartment with the view she loved… Here. With the people she loved.

Victoria turned and followed her witch sisters; the Goddess’s presence still wrapped around her shoulders like an invisible cloak.

Whatever happened next, whatever she looked like when this was over, she wouldn’t be facing it alone.

CHAPTER 22

When morning came, Duke strolled from the library into the mansion, proudly carrying the Corpse Plant in full bloom.

“Pee-yoo! What is that smell?” Magda asked and then made gagging noises.

Duke held out the plant with one hand and held his nose with the other. “One corpse plant. A gift from the Goddess,” he said, nasally.

With the Corpse Plant in play, the witches and Duke would be able to complete the spell and return the women to their rightful bodies—he hoped.