Page 2 of Untraced Magic (Cutters Cove Witches #1)

Morgan

A thud startled me awake as a different world moved past my window, my eyes raising to the towering mountain peaks kissing a somber sky.

Swinging my bag over my shoulder, I thanked the driver before stepping outside, a chill in the salted air prickling my skin as relief left me in a long breath. Just what I needed, fresh air and a fresh start, away from the sympathy stares that had followed me since my parents’ death.

If I heard ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ one more time, I would have screamed. So, I left.

My gaze flicked over my immediate surroundings, where antique lanterns evenly lined the narrow street ahead, three perched on each pole. It gave the town a gothic vibe, and I imagined their amber glow would offer the cove an entirely new perspective at night .

Beyond that, aged storefronts led down the road, where paint cracked from them as if creatures shedding their decayed skin.

How hard was it to pick up a damn paintbrush around here?

The familiar grind of coffee beans sounded from a nearby coffee cart, a brunette around my age smiling at me as I approached it.

“Hi.” I fumbled through my bag for my wallet. “Could I grab a latte, please?”

A dimple creased her cheek. “Sure thing. From what I’ve seen, whoever gets off that bus is either in town for a few days or moving here. Which is it?”

I laughed at her observation, leaning against the side of the caravan. “The latter. I’m about to pick up my house keys. Are you from here?” I asked.

She glanced over her shoulder while working her magic on the coffee machine, her eyes a shade of blue-green I hadn’t seen before.

“Sure am. Welcome. I’ve been gone a few years but moved back not long ago.

I’m usually at Coffee Cove a few blocks down.

You should pop in and say hi sometime. I’m Skye. ”

She leaned out of the cart, and I lifted onto my toes, taking the coffee from her.

“Thanks. I’m Morgan. And I might just do that.” With a nod, I waved goodbye.

At that moment the bus pulled away, revealing the waterfront I hadn’t seen from where I’d exited moments prior. I mean, nothing ever looks like the photos, but hell, the real estate agent had really oversold this place .

In the previous town I lived in, I’d found myself instantly drawn to a new board listing properties for sale in Cutters Cove.

The house prices seemed reasonable, and before I knew it, I’d fallen in love with a cottage from the pictures alone and bought it.

The agent had described the town as a quaint seaside village.

I guess that much was true, but quaint?

It was an insane thing to do, move to a town I’d never been to, to buy a house I’d never seen in person.

I was never spontaneous, but something about Cutters Cove spoke to me, invitation by instincts you could say.

Aside from the small rental house I’d lived in, with a roommate that seemed to think neon was the new black, I’d only ever lived with my parents. But life threw me a giant curve ball.

I learned that when your parents die, a piece of you dies with them.

And that piece, the gaping hole in your heart, I don’t believe ever mends.

It could be stitched, or patched up, like the worn knees on your pants as a child, but never fully mended.

Turns out you also get a reasonable inheritance.

.. and an unfathomable urge to just get the hell away from everything .

I surveyed the bleak harbor, where trees drained of life stood bare in the ill waters. Others floated on the surface, evidence of storms since past that had claimed their souls.

There seemed to be a channel in the grave of limbs that led beyond the murky scene, and I wondered what lay beyond its blanket of secrecy.

Closer to shore, boats scaled with grime bobbed like ghost ships in the thin mist that skimmed the water.

Its harbor docks proved uneven and weathered, held together by brazen bolts seeping rust into its hollows .

It was like it had no heart. Like no one cared. I grimaced at the sight.

A brittle gust swept my long, dark hair over my face, and I gathered it in my hands, pulling my wool coat tighter around me.

Walking up the main street, I continued along the pavement where I passed a corner shop, an apothecary, and a large stone complex that appeared to be a town hall. I was halfway across the road when a prickle chilled the nape of my neck.

The kind that told me curious eyes followed my every move.

I was the new girl in town. The outcast. But my parents had moved often for work, so it was something I’d become used to over time and I no longer cared, happy to fade into whatever town they dragged me to next.

People could stare all they wanted with their eyes that assumed who I was in one wild sweep. It was usually backed up by an onslaught of verbal diarrhea among the elderly that had nothing better to do than gossip, like a rite of passage in small towns.

I expected nothing less. Still…

I stole a glance to my side, convinced I was the center of someone’s attention.

Turns out I wasn’t wrong.

Except the eyes that found mine lacked the usual crinkled corners framed by gray hair I’d become accustomed to.

Fifty feet away, in what I thought was an abandoned gasoline station, charcoal irises found mine with an intensity that made time drag into a moment .

Curiosity piqued my senses. So much so that my feet faltered as I greedily searched to uncover the figure attached to the dark coals that had brought me to a sudden halt. Dressed in coveralls, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Oil-smudged hands gripped the side of a car hood.

His thick brown hair matched the morning shadow that edged his jaw, but his eyes…

They were locked onto mine.

An intense heat slid over me. Into every part of me.

The slam of the hood shutting made me jump as he turned away, walking deeper into the building.

Who was that ?

Men rarely grasped my attention.

My feet fell into step once more, and I chanced a glance over my shoulder but didn’t see him.

I let out a long breath, trying to calm the beat that thundered in my chest.

Seriously. Get yourself together.

I continued on, approaching a group of strangers standing off to one side of the footpath. All in matching uniforms, they were obviously from a nearby school.

I inwardly smirked at the uneven hem of the girl’s skirts, clearly rolled over at the waist to look shorter. Their white long-sleeve shirts matched the guy’s ones, complimented with a tie hanging so loose around their necks it was clear they didn’t give a shit.

The group stilled as I approached, and I felt their scrutiny on my skin as I passed .

“Hi.” I smiled at them casually.

They deadpanned me.

I heard a lone snicker before their chatter returned.

Charming.

That will teach me for being polite.

Rounding a corner, I noted the sign above me. Cutters Terrace . Scanning the houses down the street, I found number 17, a white cottage wrapped with a crooked picket fence.

Bent over a garden bed, a well-dressed lady in her 60s plucked out a stray weed, and having heard my footsteps, she whipped around to face me, dusting dirt off her slacks and blouse.

“Hello, dear, you must be Morgan. I’m Betty. Welcome to your new home!” She smiled one of those smiles that reached her eyes, her arms stretched wide in greeting.

“Hi, Betty, thanks for meeting me here,” I said, following her as she guided me inside.

She drew back the curtains, and daylight spilled onto the washed-out floorboards covering the kitchen and dining area.

It was cozy, just as I’d imagined, the cottage kitchen light and airy like the only ray of sunshine is this town’s uniform of gray. I surveyed the living room filled with furniture and boxes, before Betty insisted on giving me the tour room by room, the subtle scent of jasmine following her.

She finally turned her gaze to mine. “I hope you don’t mind, but the moving van beat you to it. I just got them to pop most of it in here.”

I offered her a smile. “It’s no problem. Thank you for everything. ”

“You are most welcome,” she said on a sigh, staring longingly around the room. “I’m going to miss this place. Up until now, it’s the only home I’ve ever had in Cutters Cove.”

I remained silent, watching a sparkle return to her face.

“Mavis and I always had our cup of tea just over here.” She pointed to an empty space near the window. “It’s not like we get much sun here, but when we do, this is the spot.”

A sadness tugged at my chest, watching her recall some of her fondest memories in the house that was now officially mine.

There was something about Betty I easily warmed to; she just had a way about her. I moved closer, resting my hand on her forearm briefly. “Thank you for the tip, I will make sure I do the same.”

Betty ran a hand over the side of her pant leg before straightening.

“Dear, I don’t mean to love and leave you, but I have a few errands I must attend to. If there’s anything you need or if you run into a spot of bother, I’ll leave my number right here.”

She scribbled on a notepad in the kitchen before placing it back on the countertop next to a set of keys.

“Thanks,” I replied, looking around at all the boxes. “Hopefully there shouldn’t be anything I can’t handle myself.”

I followed her onto the front porch where she gestured to the flowerbed she had been attending to earlier.

“I planted those last spring. They should bloom again as long as you keep up the water.”

The grey clouds above made her request seem ridiculous, like rain could fall at any moment, but I nodded, hiding my amusement. “I’ll be sure to take special care of them.”

“Thank you, dear.” Her blue-gray eyes suddenly filled with mischief. “Also…” she paused before wiggling a bony index finger in my direction. “You watch those lads next door. They can be a bit of a handful, but they really are harmless.”

I raised a brow, my gaze sliding over the fence to what looked like an ordinary split-level house. “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I said, suppressing a smile.

When she left, I rested against the doorframe of the entrance to my living room, my gaze veering once more to the boxes taking over much of the space.

A place of my own, and somewhere I could finally call home.

A new beginning and fresh start, where the secret I held close to my chest would remain just that.

The sadness that had taken permanent residence in my heart seemed to dim, a warmth discretely filling its place. I walked over to my phone, syncing it with the speaker I'd purposely packed in my bag with me. As the familiar playlist filled the room, my hips moved to the beat.

A smile broke over my face.

These boxes wouldn’t unpack themselves.