Page 7 of Practically Magic

But we haven’t landed on any fall roundups for Best Halloween Sightseeing because everyone thinks of Salem or Sleepy Hollow first.

Mayor Croft is determined to change that this year. He’s been posting videos that rack up tens, sometimes hundreds of views. (At least fifty of those are me, when Colton is in the videos.)

At the fork in the path, though, I see Colton heading into Witches Brew, and I swerve sharply, nearly crashing into Laney.

“Let’s stop in at the bookstore for a bit. Let Witches Brew clear out.”

Laney glances over, and I wonder if she can see Colton disappearing into the cozy storefront. A rush of goose bumps travels up my arms, and I fight the urge to wring my hands to shake off the embarrassment.

“I’m not avoiding him,” I say quickly, and she startles, like she’s surprised I volunteered that info. “It’s just . . . I need him to see me at my best. Not when I’m embarrassing.”

“Okay,” she says slowly. “You know me. I’m never saying no to a trip to our bookstore.”

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A tiny bell announces our arrival at Spirited Books. I try to shake the nervous energy out of my hands, but just a deep inhale of that good book smell is enough to put a smile on my face. Fiction, nonfiction, kids, and the supernatural each have their own tiny room in the shop, which was converted from an old home built in the 1800s, like ours. My hands lovingly skim the display of fall-themed books in the front of the shop and the red velvet armchair her mom refurbished. It’s the perfect spot to curl up with a book, especially if Laney’s cat, Jinx, sits with you.

“Yes, we have a whole section on the supernatural and local history in this room,” I hear Laney’s mom tell a customer, and the two of us follow the sound of her voice into the next room. “We don’t have any books on Mystic Hollow specifically. I mean, there is the guide to town written by Mayor Croft, but he self-published it, so I’m not sure that’s what you’re looking for.”

She’s talking to two teens around our age who are wearing coordinating fall outfits and filming the shop on their phones.

Laney and I look at each other. Influencers.

Mayor Croft must be thrilled.

“But the town is tied to magic too, right?” one girl asks, holding a ring light in her free hand. “Because we saw a video online that said this is the perfect New England town for leaf-peeping and tarot readings.”

Laney gives me a look. I stay mum. If this girl considers herself a witch, she isn’t the same sort of witch I am. Which is fine, but I doubt she can actually feel the hum of magic here. I mean, it’s not like I can either, but the aunts and now Harry are always talking about how much stronger their magic feels when they’re here. I’ve never physically felt my magic, and I’m starting to doubt whether it’s inside me anywhere. Although I shouldn’t complain—apparently the weight of it can almost be painful. My aunts are always complaining about their knees, and I know my mom’s migraines are no joke. Of course Harry would only feel hers in her cute button nose—which is why she sometimes twitches it when she casts a spell.

“Something about ley lines?” the influencer is continuing. She glances around, like she’s about to see a ghost right now at this very moment.

“Stop it!” the other girl says, nudging her. “I don’t want to mess with any ghosts or whatever.”

“If you don’t bother the spirits, they won’t bother you,” Laney’s mom says with a wink, her black bob swaying. She pulls a Witchcraft of Connecticut book off one of her shelves and shows it to the girls. “Mystic Hollow isn’t even listed in here, which is funny because legend has it this town is a conduit for the supernatural.”

Laney gives me a pointed look, like she’s saying, See, those rituals are important and you shouldn’t risk all our safety over some guy who I saw picking his nose last week . . . and eating it.

Or something. It’s not like I can read her mind. I shake the tingling out of my fingers. I must be clenching my fists in stress and not realizing it.

“Great,” the girl is saying. “We’re doomed.”

Laney’s mom laughs. “No, no. It just means magic is stronger here, so you’re right about that. It’s an energy. Don’t be worried. This town is well protected by a long line of—” Her mom looks up and sees me. “Hi, girls!”

For the millionth time, I wonder if we’re as secret about being witches as my mom thinks. We try to never cast out in the open, but I’ve been called “witch girl” at school for as long as I can remember. After almost four hundred years of protecting the town, I guess we’re bound to have started some rumors.

“Hi!” I say, smiling brightly at the girls.

“Hi, Mom. Anything we can help with?” Laney asks. “We’ve got a few minutes”—I make a noise low in my throat—“An hour,” Laney amends.

“Wonderful!” Laney’s mom claps her hands together. “Two new fall romance book boxes we’ve been waiting on just came in, and I haven’t had a chance to shelve them yet. Think you could help me out?”

“I’ll help too,” I say. Something tells me that Colton is going to be at Witches Brew a little while longer.

As I follow Laney to the storage room, a shriek stops me. I whirl to a thunk—a book pops off the shelf, followed by another. They land, splayed out across the hardwood.