Page 85 of Witchy Woman

I only hope I live to see it.

The house welcomes me in with a jolly creak, but I barely hear it over the crackling of fire. I’m drawn to the back doors and there it is.

Hazel and Grandma have created what has to be the biggest—and most illegal, if I had to guess—bonfire I’ve ever seen. It’sat least ten feet tall, and it’s beckoning to me seductively. The flames are almost asking me to come and play.

It calls to me, just like it always does. Literally and figuratively.

My feet carry me forward as I answer the summons.

“No, no!” Grandma waves her hands and approaches, pushing me back inside. “You can’t connect yet. Not until sunrise. Stay in here.”

“What did you do to it?” I ask, allowing her to herd me like a cattle dog does a sheep.

She closes the doors to the backyard. “Nothing much. I did my own little ritual with some of my personal herb bundles and added them in. Focus, protection, connection, family—that sort of thing.”

It’s taking all the strength in my body not to run outside and dance around it like some sort of feral cat.

“Mrrroww.”

Speaking of feral cats. I turn my gaze downward to Belle, who sits beside me with a glare on her elegant face.

Got it. Go outside, get mauled by cat.

“How much English do you understand?” I ask her, scratching behind her long ears.

I don’t imagine the eye roll I get in return. “Mrrow.”

“Don’t sass me, I’m basically your mother.”

She hisses before nudging something at me with her paw. I didn’t even realize she was hiding something beneath her.

I crouch down and pick up the compact I took from Mom’s room when I first read her letter. It’s as if Belle knew I’d need something of Mom’s with me today.

“Thanks, Belle.” I kiss her forehead.

“So, do we actually have any idea what we’re doing?” Hazel asks, emerging from the backyard but quickly shutting the doors behind her.

“We’re letting the magic guide us.” I snort laugh. “Or something like that.”

She can’t hide the way her eyes soften at my laughter. At the easiness of it. Something happened last night that has made me shed so much of the anger I feel.

Maybe it’s that I know what to expect from Hazel now.

Maybe it’s just that I’ve changed in the last few months.

But watching her watch me is healing in its own way.

Grandma lays her bangly-jangly hand on my shoulder. “You jest, but that is most of the plan thus far. We’re entering uncharted territory, my dears, and that means we do not have the comfort of a map.”

“But we do have ground rules.” Hazel crosses her arms. “No pushing. If you feel any sort of resistance, or see some sort of twinkly light situation, you stop. We reassess. We decide if we want to try again on some other significantly witchy day. Yes?”

Some habits are hard to break, it seems. Hazel will probably always feel a level of protectiveness over me that is more than sisterly love.

“Yes,” I say. It’s easy to agree right now before we’re really in it. I don’t know how hard it’ll be to pull back once I’ve connected to Mom. But I will try my hardest.

The first stream of sunlight breaks above the trees in the backyard, a little sliver highlighting the wood floors beneath me.

It’s time.