Page 6 of Hungry As Her Python

Anyway, I wasn’t about to put away my cozy knits just to get frostbite when April decided to pull a fast one.

But the truth was just lately?

The cute unpredictability of the weather had lost its charm.

We had five inches of snow in the last week of March.

Then a hurricane in mid-April that smacked our shoreline like it had a personal vendetta.

The week after that?

Eighty-degree heat for five days straight, sending everyone scrambling for their window AC units—only for the temperature to plummet back into the fifties overnight.

May was a dreary, wet, muddy mess.

And now, with June here, I was starting to wonder if summer had Ghosted us entirely.

Normally, I loved the not-knowing.

It kept things interesting.

But lately, I’d been off my game.

Restless. Like my magic was sitting just under my skin, waiting for trouble.

And Castor’s Corner always, always, delivered on trouble.

“Maribella Strega, keep it together,” I muttered, massaging my temples.

Where had it all gone sideways?

But that question was rhetorical.

I knew exactly when, where, how and most importantly who.

Less than a year ago, I was plain old Bella—owner of The Tasty Tart bakery, proud member of the town’s Witch Trifecta, and reigning blueberry pie queen of the Summer Solstice Festival.

My life was predictable in the best way—sugar, spells, and Saturdays with my girls.

Then Evie was late to our monthly bonfire where we recharged the town’s wards, and everything went straight to Hell in a magical handbasket.

Kidnappings.

Cemetery hauntings.

An evil Warlock trying to take over.

The Chicky twins hexing Grandpa Al’s remains and hoarding hair clippings to control half the town like some kind of dark-magic HOA.

It was like living in the Witchy Wild West—gunslingers swapped for spell-slingers.

Things had quieted down since then. Well, for a while, they had.

But Castor’s Corner trouble is like a hydra—you cut off one head, and two more sprout up, usually carrying pitchforks and a curse.

Let me back up and give you the quick-and-dirty history.

Castor’s Corner is home.