Page 79 of Autumn L.A.W

If anyone could fix this, or at least bankroll her journey, it was her L.A.W. sisterhood.

When she reached the L.A.W. mansion by phone, Sahara answered and listened to the whole tale. “Wait. She took your purse?”

“She took my everything! Someone stole my whole identity… including my Pilates body!”

“Oh, my Goddess! Let me confer with the others, and I’ll text you the details. Don’t worry, hon. We’ve got you.”

In less than five minutes, Sahara had arranged to loan Victoria enough money to buy the bus ticket, meals, and replace her phone. They would send it via Western Union, and she’d ask Raoul to stop on the way.

When she had the phone and the money, she was relieved—sort of—and ready to start her journey. She and Raoul drove to the bus station, determined to get her to Tennessee. She had to wait until the next day for the bus, but she had enough money to pay for the night in a Brookhaven B&B.

“Would you like me to stay with you?” Raoul offered. He waggled his eyebrows.

“As tempting as that is, I cannot look at this body.”

“Then simply look at mine,” he joked.

She smiled sadly and shook her head.

Victoria wondered about his willingness to believe her story, since she was in an entirely different body. Before he drove away, she asked him why he hadn’t doubted her.

He laughed. “After the things I’ve seen working for the L.A.W. over the last ten years, there’s nothing any of you can do that would shock me.”

CHAPTER 18

Early the next morning, she took the bus and then an Uber to the witches' mansion on Mount Funk. It glowed in the evening light. Its grandeur was evident from the outside, with its tall columns that rose gracefully up to the second-story balconies. Joell met her out front and spelled the driver to think he’d left her at a modest house.

Beyond the wrought iron gate, tall trees swayed in a riot of orange, red, and gold. Leaves whispered in the breeze, as if the mansion had already started gossiping about her return.

Victoria trudged through the gate and kept going. Joell wrapped her arm around Victoria’s pudgy muffin top, helping her move a little faster.

The entryway opened wide, welcoming her into polished opulence. Tapestries graced the walls. A rich oriental carpet cushioned her tired feet. Chandeliers threw light everywhere, scattering it across bold paintings that practically watched her limp in.

Victoria stopped just inside the door and exhaled. “Thank the Goddess,” she muttered. Then exhaustion crashed over her like a wave.

She didn’t just feel tired. This elderly body felt bone-deep, soul-sapping, please-don’t-make-me-take-another-step tired.

“I need sleep,” she announced. “And possibly a full-body exorcism.” She needed Magda. Magda could make a corpse feel refreshed.

Her coven would fix this. They had to. While one of them dug into the spell, someone else could work out whatever ancient betrayal had gifted her with this body. She wanted to return it like it was Boxing Day in Canada.

“Victoria?”

She turned as the witches filtered in—beloved, familiar faces with curious eyes.

Rayna stepped forward first, already holding a mug. “Drink this.”

Victoria took it without question. “If this explodes, I’ll haunt you.”

“It won’t.”

She drank.

Warmth spread through her immediately, thanks to herbs, spices, and magic. The exhaustion peeled back in layers, retreating steadily. Victoria blinked, rolled her shoulders, and stood a little straighter. “All right,” she said slowly. “I’m impressed.”

“Magda’s blend,” Rayna said.

“Of course it is.”