CHAPTER 1
HARPER
May was my birthday month. On an unrelated note, it was also my least favorite month in the year, followed by October, December, and February, respectively.
October was a time for occult enthusiasts seeking spell books and protective amulets, drawn by Ravenwood’s popular Halloween festivities; we were the Salem of Pennsylvania. In February, Valentine’s Day brought in a surge of love potion requests and an uptick in smutty vampire romance novels. Although these months were great times for business, they left me utterly depleted.
December used to be my favorite month. When Dad was around, we had huge holiday parties and guests constantly visited. Gram made the best cookies every weekend, and we’d watch Christmas movies every night. It was a time I genuinely felt like my family was close. And then Dad left, and it was never the same since. Even after ten years, the sting was fresh every Christmas since.
I still looked through the mail, though. Just to check and see if he deigned to send me a birthday card. No dice. I went through the mail at Enchanted Editions, too, but it was mostly bills and advertisements. One envelope caught my eye, though—a pink, glittery one with smiley face stickers all over the front. Another fan letter, I assumed.
Last month, I solved a high-profile murder case. The headlines were catchy—Small Town Witchy Bookstore Owner Solves Murder—so the story went viral. But I thought my fifteen minutes of fame would be up, by now. Well, I couldn’t complain, especially when my online business was doing so well because of all the press coverage.
Dear Harper,
You’re so amazing! I can’t believe you solved a murder, and on your own, no less! That’s sooo badass! I’ve read every article about you, and it’s just so inspiring to see a woman use magic for good. I want to be just like you when I grow up! Can you teach me how to be a witch?
Love, your biggest fan,
Stacey
I didn’t know kids wrote letters anymore. Judging by the handwriting and the content, a teenager, or maybe someone in middle school sent it.
The bell on the door jingled, and in walked Damien Caine holding a box of crystals. Formerly an investigator for SCIS—the Supernatural Crime Investigation Squad—he was suspended for six months after using his resources to assist me with the murder case. He saved me several times since coming back into my life, embarrassingly enough.
We’d known each other since we were children. He used to have a crush on me, funnily enough. Just a year younger, he would follow me around like a puppy. Now, we were just friends, all grown up. Today, he wore a gray V-neck sweater that hinted at his well-maintained physique, despite his hiatus from his high-action government job. His icy blue eyes always seemed to be calculating, his dark hair slightly messy, softening his sharp features. He was tall and lanky, but there was no mistaking the lean muscle beneath. Though undeniably handsome, his looks were almost a contradiction to his youthful mischief I
remembered from our childhood days.
“Fan mail again?” Damien teased. “You should toss those. They’re not worth the trouble.”
His dismissal of the fan letters didn’t surprise me. In the magical community, Damien was, to put it mildly, a divisive figure. He received many fan letters, but for every girl gushing about how much she loved him, there was someone else writing to threaten him. It wasn’t easy, being a public figure.
“Are one or two fan letters really that bad?”
“You don’t know what the letter is before you look at it. It could be from a fan, or from someone who hates you. And one piece of hate mail can ruin your entire day,” he said.
He has a point, I thought. Sliding the letter back into its envelope, I set it aside. Damien resumed his stocking in the front shelves, placing the crystals neatly on display in the New Age section, with the tarot cards.
Outside, the first signs of spring began to assert themselves over the Pennsylvanian landscape. Ravenswood remained the small town I’d grown up in, but this May, with its budding trees and promises of warmth, felt a little different.
The bell sounded off again, announcing another arrival. This time, it was Caleb Kirk, a bright smile on his face and a bouquet of fresh flowers cradled in his arms. “Hey, Harper. These are for you.”
“Thanks, Caleb.” I smiled, taking the flowers from him—lilies, sunflowers, and a sprinkling of lavender. Their colors filled the room with a fresh vitality that even magic couldn’t quite replicate. I placed them in a vase, letting the water mingle with the stems.
Caleb had been a part of my life since high school, when he transferred to Ravenswood. He moved to California right after graduation. Why he returned to town remained a mystery, but his presence certainly brightened my days. Especially now that we were talking again.
He wore a light
blue button-down shirt that complimented his blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Despite it being only spring, his skin held a warm tan, as if kissed by an endless summer. A skilled photographer, Caleb had landed a job with the local paper and even ventured into wedding photography on weekends. Recently, he’d been popping into Enchanted Editions every day to say ‘hi’. Sometimes he’d stay for hours and help out, much to Damien’s annoyance.
“Hi, Damien,” Caleb greeted.
“Yeah,” Damien replied, uninterested. Call me crazy, but I got the feeling they didn’t really like each other. They didn’t argue—not like Damien and Lukas—but their cold civility made it clear they weren’t friends.
“I thought you’d be swamped with wedding season,” I told Caleb.
“I’m fine. I just wanted to check in with you,” he said, smiling. “Got any plans for your birthday?”
Ah, there it was. “Nothing I planned, but my mom’s throwing some sort of extravaganza. She’s going with a 1920s vintage glamour theme. You should get the invitation soon.”
Last minute, as always when it came to my mother. But she knew people would cancel plans to attend a party at our house, even now that Dad wasn’t around anymore.
Caleb’s eyes lit up. “That sounds amazing! Are you going to wear a flapper dress?”
Why is everyone more excited about my birthday than I am?
“Maybe,” I said. For the past few years, I celebrated my birthday in peace. A little cake, my best friend Lexie, and a good book sufficed. But my mom had other ideas this time. She wanted glam, extravagance, and a guest list that included nearly everyone in town. “My mom said Elle’s coming, though, so I guess that’s something.”
Damien tripped on the carpet, flopping to the ground in a way that was uncharacteristically uncoordinated.
“Are you okay?” I asked, alarmed.
He groaned, picking
himself off the floor. “Damn it. I guess we should start hiding our valuables now.”
“You’re being dramatic. Elle’s not that bad,” I defended.
“Dramatic? Harp, that woman is the devil incarnate.”
Caleb chuckled. “Didn’t you once kiss the ‘devil incarnate’?”
That was news to me. Damien kissed my sister? Well, they were the same age, and had classes together. When I hung out with my friends, Elle sometimes tagged along. And they were always over at my house. Lukas once told me that there was something between Damien and Elle, though Damien continued to deny that.
Even now, he looked horrified. “That was in high school, at a stupid party, and it meant absolutely nothing. How do you even know about that? Did she spread it around?”
Caleb laughed harder. “No, Lexie saw it and told me and Lukas. Freakin’ hilarious.”
“I wish I were buried six feet under,” Damien complained. “The last thing I want is for anyone to think there was anything between me and Elle.”
“Don’t worry,” Caleb assured him. “No one would ever put Elle and you in the same sentence. You’re like oil and water. Or maybe oil and fire would be more appropriate.”
“You’re being too harsh,” I warned. I knew Elle was a lot to handle, but she was still my little sister. We were close, running in the same friend circles, cheerleading together, and going shopping every week. But somewhere along the line, we grew apart. I took on responsibilities after high school, and Elle… well, Elle stayed the same. She lived off financial support from our parents and, from what I could gather, a string of wealthy, older boyfriends.
She rarely called or came home, but I wouldn’t say our relationship was bad. Mom and Elle were cut from the same cloth—flighty, flaky, and blissfully oblivious. They never meant any harm; they were just perpetually wrapped up in their own whirlwinds of activity.
In terms of compatibility, Damien and Elle stood at opposite ends of the spectrum.
Where Damien was quiet, introspective, and incredibly serious about almost everything, Elle was the quintessential life of the party—loud, unfiltered, and often unintentionally offensive. I couldn’t even fathom them lasting a single dinner date, let alone forming any sort of meaningful relationship.
Yet, despite the circus that Elle’s presence promised, I looked forward to seeing her. It had been years since our last encounter. She had swooped into town like a hurricane, crashed her car, and was gone within a week to continue her perpetual celebration of life—or whatever she called it.
“Elle’s always been a gold digger and a spendthrift,” Damien grumbled, casting a side glance at me.
“Yeah, she’s definitely a lot,” Caleb concurred, shrugging. “Clearly, we befriended the right sister.”
“Hey, cut it out,” I snapped, surprising even myself with the sharpness of my tone. “Elle’s a good person, deep down. She’s just a bit lost, that’s all.”
Caleb raised his hands in surrender. “No offense meant, Harper. I better get going, though.”
“See you soon,” I said, softening.
After Caleb left, the rest of the day unfolded quietly, a stark contrast to the earlier conversations. The phone rang occasionally, customers trickled in and out, and I found comfort in the mundane tasks that filled my day. When closing time arrived, I invited Damien over for dinner, but he declined.
“I’ve got something to take care of,” he said, his eyes averting mine for just a moment. Damien had always been somewhat elusive, a trait that perhaps came from his past role in a governmental agency like SCIS.
“Alright,” I replied, not wanting to press him. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
The great thing about Damien staying at the shop was he could lock up for me. I walked to my car and threw my bag into the passenger seat before settling in for the short drive home.
Pulling into the driveway, I looked at my house—a sprawling three-story Victorian, its white facade tinged with golden hues from the setting sun. Now that it was just me and Mom (and her boyfriend), I had the entire second floor to myself; my mom lived on the third floor with
Ted. He slept here most nights, though he still had his own house on the other side of town.
Dragging myself up the steps, I unlocked the front door and ascended the staircase to my room. Exhausted, I washed up, slipped into my pajamas, and nestled into the warm cocoon of my bed. As sleep enveloped me, I found myself stepping into another realm altogether. ...
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