Page 9 of Haunt Me, Maybe

I didn’t dare move, remembering this intruder could hear me, and it was an effort to stay silent when it had been seventy years since I had to worry about such things. As if my thoughts summoned her, the witch woke in a flurry of swinging arms and flung sheets. Her toad croaked at the disruption, and I took note as an embarrassed flush spread across her cheeks when she realized all that awaited was a muted attic.

The rosy skin blended well with her purple hair—an obvious hint at her deception. No one with a blush like that had naturally brown hair. Clearly. I kept close but out of sight as the witch moved around the room and got ready for her day.

I’d almost settled into a false sense of security when nothing untoward happened, but the attic grew sticky with magic. The witch’s hair was once again brown, and with another wave of her hand, the toad was hidden behind a shimmer of more trickery.

It wasn’t curiosity that made me follow them, but the need for answers. She could touch me. See me. Hear me. A true danger. I remained tight on her heels, lest she reveal some magic I’d yet to see, and teleported away too fast for me to follow.

She stopped by the front desk to chat with Mrs. Haverly, laying a neat stack of cash on the counter. Plenty for another night in the attic. A month’s worth, really. I did a double-take and choked on disbelief, nearly solidifying right there in the foyer. She intended to stay?

I obviously hadn’t tried hard enough to scare her away. To be fair, her being able to touch me wasn’t something I could have anticipated, but now that I knew what she could do, I’d be prepared for it.

“It wasn’t bad at all,” the witch said in response to another question, grabbing her change and tucking it in her bag. “That was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a while.”

The bulb in the lamp beside me popped, and both women looked over. The witch’s eyes knowingly searched for me, but I was too concealed. Her frown told me she thought I’d left after last night, and I swelled with satisfaction at the idea of showing her how wrong she was. If she thought she’d have another peaceful night’s sleep in my attic, she was sorely mistaken. No amount of magic or angry stares from her toad would get me to back down.

Mrs. Haverly fought a smug smile as she glanced between the witch and the corner where I hid, confirming my suspicions about her and whether or not she could sense me. I didn’t like the idea of there being another person I had to be careful around, but at least I knew Mrs. Haverly couldn’t do anything about her unconfirmed knowledge.

The only downside was her obvious support of the witch. Her encouragement for the girl to check out the town and the excited way she ushered her out the door were a worrisome development. If I scared the witch out of the attic, would the old woman rent her another room in the house?

A problem to ponder later.

I followed the unknowing witch for fifteen minutes, straight to the heart of town, and when nothing happened but peaceful walking and her scarf fluttering in the breeze, my anger dissipated. No matter how foolish I felt, I knew it was right to monitor her. She was dangerous. A walking magical hazard waiting to happen. My peaceful town had no idea who they’d welcomed inside.

I drifted from tree to lamppost, to newspaper stand, grumbling the entire way. Keeping out of sight was inconvenient to say the least. Especially when the witch did nothing evil as she strolled down Main Street. Nothing worth noting anyway. Not yet.

She paused to admire the florist’s window display, taking the time to smell the chrysanthemums before moving on, then fiddled with change in her bag when she passed the candied apples on the corner. She even stopped to peruse the community bulletin board at the crosswalk.

Even I had to admit she blended into Amber Grove ridiculously well, like she was always meant to be here, face turned up into the sunlight. She smiled softly and paused under a particularly bright patch as it painted the closest storefront in shades of gold. Her body swayed, almost subconsciously leaning in, seeking more as if she hadn’t felt warmth in a long time.

I aimed a glower at the back of her head. There she went again, somehow bewitching me into sympathizing with her. Shaking the feeling felt impossible as I watched her shrink from the kind smiles sent her way, preferring invisibility over returning a friendly gesture.

The longer I trailed her, the more that sympathy turned back into suspicion. It entrenched itself in my gut, growing and building until I was awash with a need to understand what it was about her that drew me in. A need to know what she was hiding.

I drifted to the corner of the square, jaw clenched, as the witch slowed in front of The Cozy Caramel. She froze, so close her soft breath fogged the glass. I sensed the exact moment it happened— she settled. Her energy steadied and opened. Her shoulders finally released themselves from their permanent position by her ears, allowing me a glimpse of her slender neck free from tension.

I hated it.

I hated how the place seemed to pull her in, like it had been waiting for her. Then I saw the sign, and my cold heart dropped through the cobblestone.

HELP WANTED.

She headed toward it, eyes lit with interest. No. She wouldn’t be staying long. What did she need a job for? Her intentions in this town were obviously another well-formulated lie, one I refused to let her get away with.

The door to the café slammed shut with an invisible burst of force so strong it rattled the hinges. The witch spun to look behind her, and our eyes met. I made myself visible long enough to glare at her and make sure she saw me mouth an obvious “no.” I shook my head for good measure, but my warning anger went right through her. She pursed her lips and arched a brow, more inconvenienced than upset about my proverbial line drawn in the sand.

She knew I watched her, knew I disapproved, and still she didn’t care. Pulling on the café door, the little bell jingled overhead as she stepped inside and crossed right over the generous boundary I’d set.

The streetlights closest to me flared, their bulbs burning bright despite the midafternoon hour. My temper fueled their burnout, and shouts of concern echoed as shattered glass rained down on the sidewalk. Ashamed of my loss of control, I gave the café a final glare before fading away. I’d deal with the witch later, when I’d calmed down enough to not short-circuit the entire power grid.

CHAPTER FOUR

Aven

The Cozy Caramel definitely held up to its name, in all the best ways. Part café and part bookstore, the little shop was a balm to my broken spirit—and I hadn’t even made it inside yet. I found my feet drawn here, as if something called me with a sense of belonging that caught me off guard. Normally, that would be alarming, but in this town, it felt more like ancient guidance.

Fenn said ley lines ran beneath Amber Grove, and the aunts spoke as if this place was once a haven for witchcraft. The people may no longer thrum with power, but the centuries of spellcasting left an almost tangible magical signature over a few key locations. This apparently being one of them.

I inched closer, eyeing the shop with a critical scan. The cute little window boxes on either side of the entrance overflowed with mums in a variety of colors, and I was pleased to see that the plant theme carried over inside; the entire front window was flooded with greenery.