Page 4 of Charmed, I’m Sure (Witches of Bellevue #1)

The Firefly

Magnolia

Pulling up the gravel driveway that led to Bellevue Manor never got old.

It was lined with towering oak trees on either side, their branches so dense they wove together to form a canopy over the ground.

Even this close to Halloween, the trees were lush, thanks to a spell Aunt Evie had cast over the flora.

I put my sunshine-yellow Xterra in park, hopped out, and sent a wisp of magic toward the carved pumpkins lining the steps. The tiny tealights inside flickered to life, illuminating the intricate designs and standing out against the growing darkness.

“Aunt Evie? Maddie? Anyone home?” I called as I stepped through the door, a rush of magic tickling my skin as the house welcomed me home.

As I pressed the door closed behind me, the soft jingle of bells announced the family familiars’ approach.

“Hey, guys! Meowfoy, you’re looking dapper today in your jack-o-lantern bow tie.

Very festive. And, Hermeownie, did you get brushed today?

Your coat is extra shiny.” Both cats trilled in response, bumping against my shins, each caress laced with meaning.

I’m hungry, feed me. Every press of their heads was a link to their minds, their thoughts filtering through my consciousness as though they were speaking aloud.

“Evie’s in the greenhouse tending the lavender plants. Mama Jo called—she needs more for Samhain, and she’s out with the influx of tourists,” Hermeownie, our orange Maine Coon, informed me through our connection.

“Maddie’s in the study working on her latest novel. Asked not to be disturbed,” added Meowfoy, our snow-white Maine Coon.

Stooping down, I scooped Meowfoy into my arms and rested my forehead against his fuzzy head. “Has she at least eaten today?”

He purred, but through our mental link, told me she hadn’t.

“Well, alrighty then,” I said, setting the familiar back on the floor. “Time to pry her out of her world and bring her back into this one. But first, I need to talk to Aunt Evie.”

Behind the manor were beautiful gardens and a small pond, home to a few fish whose species I could never remember. Beyond that stood Aunt Evie’s greenhouse, brimming with lavender, chamomile, and rosemary. Though our small coven used it, most of the herbs were sent to Mama Jo in New Orleans.

I pushed open the door to the glasshouse and spotted Aunt Evie kneeling in the dirt, clipping sprigs of lavender and placing them in her wicker basket.

“Close the door; you’re letting the bugs in,” she chided without turning around.

Chuckling under my breath, I stepped fully inside and sealed the door behind me. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

She shrugged, placing her shears in the basket before turning my way. “What’s up, Magpie?”

Leave it to my aunt to combine my name with my love of baking and come up with a bird as a nickname. “Nothing much. Hermeownie told me you were cutting sprigs for Mama Jo. Did you need me to make a run down there for you?”

Mama Jo ran Crescent Witchery in New Orleans, a tiny occult shop in the French Quarter that catered to tourists and natural witches alike. We supplied most of the herbs she used for her smudge sticks and teas.

“Would you? I don’t want to put you out.”

I knelt beside her, picking up her shears. Lavender was my favorite scent—its magical properties for happiness and healing were just an added bonus. “I don’t mind at all, as long as you don’t mind me hanging out for a day or two to spend Halloween with Jae on Bourbon Street?”

Jae had asked me earlier if I wanted to go with her. We used to go all the time, but now we could only make it when Halloween fell on a Friday or the weekend.

Aunt Evie sighed, shaking her head as a small laugh slipped out. “Magpie, you’re thirty years old. You don’t need to ask me if you can party in New Orleans.”

A huge grin spread across my face, but it quickly fell when she pinned me with her mom look.

“But you need to find a safe place to stay. You know the veil is thinner on All Hallows’ Eve. I don’t need you accidentally—or intentionally—stumbling upon something wicked. You catch my drift… pick up what I’m putting down… smell what I’m cooking…”

I couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. “Yes, yes, I got it. Geez, stop with the cheesy metaphors.”

“Good. Now go drag your sister away from her computer before she gets square eyes.”

“Aunt Evie… you know that’s not a real thing, right? You told us that when we sat too close to the TV as kids, but come on.”

She shrugged. “Same difference. You knew what I meant. Now scoot.” She wiggled her fingers at me, waiting for her shears.

After handing them over, I pressed a kiss to her cheek and left her to her pruning, heading inside to find my sister.

Maddie hated when anyone disrupted her writing. She always claimed she couldn’t get back into the same groove, ruining the process. I, of course, called bullshit, since I interrupted her all the time, and her books were still amazeballs.

She might have grumbled some—okay, a lot—but I knew that, despite the complaints, she’d pull herself away from whatever fictional world she was building when I needed her.

And tonight was one of those nights. So, after I promised to leave her alone for the rest of the weekend—and bribed her with homemade cinnamon rolls—she threw on a sweater and jeans, tossed her chestnut locks into a high pony, and slapped on a smile.

Neon signs advertising beer flickered against the blacked-out windows of The Firefly, the only bar in town. Its owner just so happened to be one of my favorite people… even if he barely tolerated me.

As soon as we walked through the door, Jordan Davis’s Almost Maybes hit the speakers. A smile spread across my face as I sidled up to the bar. “Raayyyy,” I sing-songed, dragging out his name.

He rolled his eyes, wiping down the bar in front of where Maddie and I sat. “What do y’all want?”

“Hey now, Ray, no need to be sassy,” Jae said, stepping up behind us.

“Oh great, the whole gang’s here tonight. I still don’t understand why y’all insist on calling me ‘Ray.’ You know that’s not my name.”

Maddie snickered beside me, hiding her grin behind her hand.

“Your name is Trey… Ray could be a nickname for that,” Jae said, leaning against the bar with a cheesy smile.

“It’s not.” Ray’s tone was flat, his expression unchanged as he stared us down.

I shrugged, pulling out my debit card and punch card, setting them on the bar. “Ever seen Princess and the Frog?”

The blank look on his face gave me my answer.

“Well, there’s this little firefly in the movie, and his name is Ray. So, tomato, potato. You own this bar; you’re Ray now. Can I get a large 190-Octane, please?” I flashed him my best Southern Belle smile, but he just rolled his eyes and snatched my cards off the counter.

“And y’all?” he asked, nodding toward Maddie and Jae.

“I’m DD tonight. Mags had a bad day at work,” Maddie replied.

“A large strawberry, please!” Jae chimed in, bouncing on her toes.

After Ray returned with our daiquiris, he handed me my cards, and we headed to our usual table near the dance floor.

It was still early for a Friday night, which meant we had time to let the liquid courage kick in before the line dancing started.

We knew the dances, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t intimidating to get up in front of everyone else and do them.

We’d been there a few hours, dancing along to songs we knew, but when Thick as Thieves by Lauren Alaina and Lainey Wilson came on, Jae squealed and jumped up. “Come on, Mags! Maddie!” she whined, grabbing our wrists and pulling us toward the dance floor, where rows of people were already lining up.

I groaned, rolling my eyes as I reluctantly followed her out past the rail that framed the floor, Maddie dragging her feet behind me.

It didn’t take long for us to fall into step with the rest of the group.

Every heel clicked in sync on the wooden floor, whoops of excitement filling the air as we spun and added our own flares.

I was having the time of my life—until he walked in.

Until sapphire eyes behind tortoiseshell glasses locked onto mine. For the third time in one day, Taylor Hallows was invading my space.

Taylor

As soon as I walked through the door, I spotted her cotton candy hair in waves down her back, standing out like a beacon among the mundane.

But I forced my feet toward the bar and ordered a drink.

She was smiling, and I’d be damned if it wasn’t brighter than the moon on a clear night.

The moment the dance spun her to face me, though, that smile vanished, replaced by a mask of pure annoyance.

It seemed there was more to Ms. Bellevue than I had originally thought.

She’d traded her cutoffs and snarky tee for dark, high-rise bell-bottom jeans and an ivory off-the-shoulder sweater that let her tattoos peek over the neckline.

A complete contrast to the dark grunge look from earlier.

A softer side. Despite that, her hardened glare burned its way into my soul.

Deciding that looking like an idiot twice in one day wouldn’t kill me, I pushed away from the bar and crossed the crowded space to the dance floor.

“Maggie,” I greeted when I stood in front of her. Crystalline blue eyes, with sunbursts of gold, locked onto me as her friends stood behind her in solidarity, arms crossed and lips pressed into thin lines.

Magnolia rolled her eyes and huffed. “It’s Mags or Magnolia, never Maggie.”

“But Sophie—”

“Sophie’s a two-bit nobody who needs to mind her own damn business,” chimed in the friend from the shop earlier.

“And you are…?” I asked, raising a brow.

“Jaelyn Jackson. We went to school together… but you probably don’t remember me, since you and your cronies were too busy being asshats and bullies.” Jaelyn’s eyes narrowed, and if looks could kill, I would’ve been ash and dust. It seemed I had my work cut out for me with more than just Magnolia.