Page 32 of Rituals & Rivalry

“Sure.” She gives me a look of disbelief and lifts a cookie, biting into it. Lavender cookies, I think.

I watch her expectantly. At first, she doesn’t say anything, but eventually, she sighs.

“Okay, I don’t have any ideas,” she says. “Are you happy? I’m a total failure.”

Should I be happy? If she fails at this, Jewel will probably see that I’m better for the coven—but no, I’m displeased. It’s like I’m back in school and the other students aren’t pulling their weight in a group project.

I narrow my eyes. “Why would that make me happy?”

“Because now you can take over and do everything.” She rolls her eyes. “Which you obviously want to do. You know, when I first met you, I thought you were just controlling in bed⁠—”

I groan. “Can we please stay on topic?”

The last thing I need is to leave with a hard-on.

“It’s related to the topic.”

I push my teacup away and scoff. “If you don’t have any ideas, there’s nothing for us to talk about. I might as well go. It’s not as if I know anything about cosmic rituals.”

Well, I know a few things. I’ve been reading up to prepare for the meeting, but there's not much information on meteor showers. I hate to admit it—and I won’t say anything aloud—but I was really counting on her.

“Wait.” She leans across the table. Her hand lands on mine, as if the soft touch is enough to keep me in place. “Fall is the best time for rebirth. Meteor showers are good for letting go. So… I thought we could do something like that.”

It seems like she knows something after all… which begs the question: why did she lie?

I nod slowly, wrapping my head around her ideas. When her hand slips away, I help myself to one of the cookies she laid out. Definitely lavender, which always takes a little like soap to me, but I swallow anyway.

“Go on,” I say. Summoning as much patience as I possibly can, really.

“My other idea was, like, a protection spell for town?” She lifts a shoulder. “But that’s obviously not as fun.”

“You’re right. And not necessary. Starbrook is pretty boring. Nothing to warrant protection, really.”

We’ve had a few scares in the past few years, but they were more interpersonal than town-wide. Things have been quiet ever since. There are still horrors, but they mainly haunt me.

Like this cottage.

“Why did you lie?” I ask, folding my hands atop the wooden table. “You clearly did your research, and you have more ideas than I do.”

What’s her game? I can’t win if I don’t know what we’re playing.

She looks down, her brow furrowing. “I thought my ideas were bad. You might have something better.”

I scoff, closer to laughter than anger. “Well, I don’t. This is your area of expertise. I trust you.”

For a moment, neither of us says anything. A bird chirps somewhere outside, and the leaves rustle against the windows.

“So, release,” she says, her face nearly as red as her lipstick. “Big bonfire. It fits the vibe, right?”

“Right. Not bad.” I lift my teacup, but before it reaches my mouth, I say, “And you’re comfortable performing that kind of ritual for an entire town? Witches, other magical folk, and even non-magical ones?”

It doesn’t seem possible, but the crimson on her cheeks continues deepening. “I—well, I mean, I’ve never done anything like it before, but… yes. I’ll do it. Okay?”

“Okay.” I sip the tea and set it down. “I don’t really see where I come into play, but I approve.”

The tea’s charm must not be too strong. Charmed teas usually work instantly, but with this one, I barely feel a buzz. Probably better this way. I’ll be driving home, and something stronger—like a bliss potion—could have me out of commission for the rest of the evening.

She shrugs. “You’re a lumberjack, we’re doing a bonfire… You can bring the wood.”