And then there was the magic. Whenever Sera checked, she could see that the inn still glowed bright with the spell she’d cast over it as a child.

Spells were supposed to be finite, so there was no reason it ought to still be going strong, but somehow, it was.

Unfortunately, it had also evolved. Over time, the spell had developed a most inconvenient propensity for whimsy and mischief.

Wildflowers bloomed spontaneously in empty teacups at unexpected moments.

The sunlit rooms teased her with echoes of her past selves.

Doors opened and closed on a whim. One of the guest bedrooms rained apple blossom tea for exactly one hour every Sunday, after which said tea vanished like it had never been there.

And it was anyone’s guess what might come next.

The most exasperating thing was the knowledge that if she could just get her magic back, the house’s inconveniences would be moot.

The boiler wouldn’t need to be replaced if it was enchanted.

Her heat spells would last weeks, not hours.

With a wave of her hand, she’d be able to fix a crumbling chimney, seal a leaking pipe, mend a cracked window frame.

With just a thought, she’d be able to paint walls, clean smoky fireplaces, and polish the wood until it gleamed.

These spells had seen them through her childhood, had been easy back then, and it was utterly galling that they were now beyond her.

The house was an albatross around her neck, but it was, nevertheless, her albatross.

Just weeks after she’d turned eighteen, her parents had decided she could now stand on her own two feet.

They’d signed over the deed and the mortgage, kissed and congratulated her as if they hadn’t just plonked a crumbling colossus in her lap, and tootled off on their next adventure.

Jasmine had kept the inn going, but she wasn’t young, and as the years had gone by, Sera had taken on more and more of the work.

And lo, here she was. Exiled witch and cranky innkeeper.

Theo was fond of wholesome video games in which his character ran farms, tea shops, and inns with little more than a rusty axe and a winning smile. Sera, glancing over his shoulder every now and then, was more than a little bitter that real life wasn’t quite so easy.

Then again, she had neither a rusty axe nor a winning smile, so maybe that was the problem.

The ping of her phone started Sera out of her thoughts. Jasmine, who was not the sort of woman who bellowed across the garden (or, indeed, at all), had sent her a text.

Alex says they haven’t seen Theo since school yesterday.

Which brought Sera rather neatly to: how the fuck had she misplaced an entire eleven-year-old boy?

She stormed back inside. Jasmine was at her worktable in the large living room and, amazingly, remained unfrazzled. “Now, pet,” she said soothingly, “I’m sure there’s a very good explanation for this. Theo wouldn’t do anything untoward.”

“Wouldn’t he?” Sera replied. “Not even if Clemmie asked him really, really nicely? Untoward is her middle name!”

“I think she once told me it’s Mary, but I take your point. I do feel, though, that whatever Clemmie may or may not be capable of, Theo wouldn’t let himself be led astray. He’s an angel.”

“So was Lucifer,” said Sera darkly.

“And I’m sure that was a very upsetting situation for all involved, my love, but it seems unlikely to be repeated. Oh! Theo!”

Sera whirled. There, in the doorway, his coat still on and his cheeks all pinked like he’d been outside for hours, stood her young cousin. He gave her a look of complete (even—dare she say it?—angelic) innocence.

Clemmie, on the other hand, looked enormously satisfied as she sashayed into the room. “Good morning, Sera,” she said cheerfully, an emotion so removed from her usual self that Sera was instantly suspicious. “How are you?”

Sera scowled. “Where have you both been?”

“Nowhere.” Clemmie sat on her hind legs and examined one of her front paws. “That is to say, I haven’t been anywhere. I couldn’t tell you where Theo’s been.”

Sera raised her eyebrows at Theo.

He was a lanky, lively young boy, with short, untidy brown hair, a firm jaw, and bright, eager blue eyes. He shook his head at her, though he couldn’t quite meet her eyes and kept glancing sideways at Clemmie. “I’ve just been out on my bike.”

“Theodór,” Sera said sharply, switching to Icelandic so Clemmie couldn’t interfere, “you’re a terrible liar. I don’t care if you’ve promised Clemmie you won’t say a word. You tell me where you’ve been right this minute.”

The doorbell rang.

Theo’s face went pale.

“I’ll answer it,” Jasmine said, retrieving her cane and leaving the room with all haste.

Clemmie bounded up to the windowsill and craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the front stoop. “Drat. I thought we’d have more time.”

Dread seized Sera. “What have you done?”

Jasmine reappeared in the open doorway before either Theo or Clemmie could answer, a most peculiar expression on her face. “Sera,” she said, a great deal shriller than normal. “You have a visitor.”

She stepped aside to reveal Francesca Grey, Sera’s former friend and the new Chancellor of the British Guild of Sorcery.