Wanda cackled. Even Roy let out a snicker.

  Kenzie tore through the house then, running for the door in the kitchen she’d just come in through. “Get back here, you little brats!!”

  The kids were long gone by the time Kenzie got outside, their fading laughter drowned out by her furious little huffs of breath. Not that she’d ever have a chance of catching a bunch of werewolf kids in the woods.

  As a parting gift, the Rutledge kids had thrown some trailing lines of toilet paper over Kenzie’s van, which was parked in the old, overgrown gravel driveway. They’d also written ‘BOO’ on her windshield with what looked like soap, and made a few little ghosts out of tissues to hang in the tree outside, their little plush bodies bobbing merrily.

  Kenzie tore her night vision camera off her head and yanked it around so she could speak into it. Her blonde hair was in a wild tangle, and there was a smear of dust or grime down one side of her cheek.

  “Okay, screw this town. I’m out of here,” she insisted. “Haven Hollow is the worst. I’m sick of my videos not loading, and people giving me garbage stories. I’m out of here.”

  At that, a little cheer went up in the meeting room.

  Kenzie’s eyes narrowed, even though there was no way she could have heard us through the camera feed. “But before I get the hell out of here, I’ll leave you with this: I know there’s something going on in this town. There’s a huge cover up, a conspiracy. No one wants to talk to me about it, but that’s fine. Kenzie Chase always catches what she’s after.”

  “Always beware of anyone who refers to herself in the third person,” Wanda muttered.

  Kenzie’s eyes narrowed, and she held the camera inches from her face. “I’ll be back to prove it. Just you wait.”

  It sounded like a threat, and I was pretty sure that was how it was intended to be taken.

  The camera feed cut out then, and the council gave a round of applause while Henner pretended to bow, somehow not spilling what was left of his kettle corn. Roy reached over and patted his shoulder with one huge mitt of a hand.

  His face falling into more serious lines, Henner rolled up the top of his popcorn bag. “I’ve corrupted most of her files, even the originals on her phone when she accessed public WIFI. She didn’t get anything incriminating on film. It’s mostly just her looking dumb.”

  “Good riddance,” Taliyah said, shoving away from the table.

  There was laughter, and general agreement as everyone stood, getting ready to leave. And at that point, Angelo even woke up.

  I seemed to be the only one concerned that Kenzie would make good on her threat, and return to Haven Hollow.

  I could only hope we’d be ready for her when she did.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I unlocked my front door and let myself in, giving a big sigh of relief when I finally got to drop my purse on the bench in the front hall.

  It had been a long day at the shop, and then with the council meeting afterwards, I was just so glad to be home again. I hung my coat up, kicked off my shoes, and headed for the kitchen to see what I could cobble together for dinner.

  My stomach had unknotted enough that I kind of regretted not taking Henner up on his offer of his kettle corn. But with the smell of garlic and butter drifting through the house, I wondered if maybe I wouldn’t have to worry about dinner after all. My stomach let out a really embarrassing sound, complaining like I hadn’t eaten anything in months.

  “Mom?” Finn poked his head out of the kitchen, his arms wrapped around his middle. The smile he shot me was a ghost of its former self, but at least, it was present and accounted for. “There was still some leftover lasagna, so I thought I’d heat some up for dinner.”

  “Thank you, Finn. That sounds amazing.” I got onto my tiptoes to brush a kiss over his cheek and went to grab some plates and cutlery for us.

  Finn hadn’t quite been himself since the showdown with Mr. Lannister. Now he was just very subdued. I knew he was upset with himself as well as with how everything had turned out. Yes, he’d just been trying to stick up for his friend, that he’d only meant for the Gypsy Gold potion to be a little prank, but it had all gotten dangerously out of hand. The council had also called him in and Roy had given him a stern talking to in front of all the other members (who had immediately given him hugs and told him everything was going to be okay). Interestingly, ‘Aunty Wanda’ had been the most protective of Finn and after Roy came close to yelling at him, Wanda had actually stepped in (actually in front of Finn as if she were shielding him) and told Roy to knock it off unless he wanted to be turned into a Redwood.

  He’d knocked it off.

  But the point was: this entire situation was exactly the reason that magic was kept strictly away from mundanes. Not only was it risking revealing the supernatural to them, but someone could get seriously hurt, or worse.

  Still, I hated seeing Finn moping around and blaming himself. That was partially why I’d grounded him in the first place. It was a finite punishment. He could serve his sentence, and then maybe he could forgive himself. But, so far, it didn’t seem like that was the case and I wondered if I should have grounded him at all, considering how hard he was being on himself.

  We sat quietly while we ate together, making our way through the leftover lasagna and garlic bread and the quick salad I’d whipped up because, as the responsible adult, I felt like it was important for us to have something green on the plate.

  Andre had called earlier and asked if he could take us both to dinner, but I’d told him I felt like Finn needed a night with just the two of us. Of course, Andre had been more than understanding and he’d promised to check on us the next day. And I’d felt really good about that—good that I’d put my son first and Andre was not only okay with it, but encouraged it. He was a good man, and I felt beyond lucky to know he was my good man.

  When Finn was finished eating and just pushing the few last bits of noodle and sauce around his plate, he set his fork down. “Mom, I know I’ve said it a million times before, but I want you to know how sorry I really am,” he said, without lifting his head.

  I couldn’t say it was okay, because it wasn’t. But I put my hand on his shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “I know, honey. I just wish you’d come to me sooner.”

  And that was the real problem I was having with the whole thing. While I wasn’t happy with Finn using a potion against his human teacher like he had, I was mostly hurt that, not only hadn’t he brought the problem to me when he’d realized there was one, but he’d lied to me. It was going to take a little while to move past that, especially owing to the fact that Finn hated lies—since it was so easy for him to detect them.

  He drooped a bit in his seat. “I should have told you the truth. I was just scared to come to you right away. I thought I could fix it on my own, and... well, I know you don’t like it that I have magic.”

  He said the words so nonchalantly that they made my chest hurt. I hadn’t meant to make him feel that way, but I understood why he would. My own fear regarding Finn’s powers had gotten the best of me. I’d been so worried about something happening to him because of his magic, that I’d made my son think I didn’t like it that he was gifted.

  My chair scraped against the wooden floor as I scooted closer to him. “No, I love your magic. Your gift is beautiful, and I think it’s amazing that you can bring hope to so many people. I can’t wait to see what your power grows into.”

  I’d gotten a hint of it this last Christmas, almost a full year ago. I still wasn’t sure if what I’d seen was a real vision of the future, or just a projection of my unconscious mind, but the glimpse I’d gotten of my son had been so warm and kind, it still brought a smile to my face. He’d been so secure in his gifts, and I’d never been more proud of anyone in my life. The way he’d moved through the world, making people smile, bringing them hope, it had really been something to see.

  I hated the thought that I hadn’t shown him how I truly felt. That the way I’d acted, the things I’d said, had made him think I wasn’t proud of him, or worse, that I was ashamed of his gifts. Because that couldn’t be further from the truth! That realization caught me like a swift hit to the gut.

  I gave Finn a one-armed hug, squeezing him into my side. “I do worry about you. Of course, I worry—I’m your mom. But that doesn’t mean I dislike your gift or that I don’t like your magic, Finn. I’m always concerned that you might get hurt, or that you might be in danger. And I don’t like it that using your power sometimes drains you so terribly, but that doesn’t mean I’m not also incredibly proud of you and what you do. And I’m so sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t come to me about this. I can understand why you were worried to and I do take some responsibility for that. I want it to be known that I am so happy to know you’re a Magician and I support you and your magic fully.”

  He looked up at me finally, and I smoothed his hair back from his face like I used to when he was a little boy.

  “You really mean that?”

  I nodded. “I mean it with all my heart, buddy. And, what’s more, I want you to know that you can come to me for anything. Anything. No matter what, and I’ll help you. If you’re ever in trouble, you can tell me. I might be mad or upset, but I’ll always help you, Finn. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you and no matter what, I will always love you more than anything in the world.”

  Finn tilted his head sideways to rest on my shoulder, and he let out a breath. “Thanks, Mom.”

  We sat there for a minute, and then I nudged him up. “Why don’t you get started on your homework? I’m going to get the dishes cleaned up.”

  Finn nodded, and while I sorted out the mess left from dinner, he pulled out his books and got to work right there at the old wooden table.

  Washing and drying the dishes gave me a few minutes alone with my thoughts. I’d never meant to make Finn think that I didn’t approve of his magic. His Magician gift was beautiful, and the things he could do with it were incredible. It had never been about the power, it had been about the kinds of situations his power would drag him into.

  But sadly, intent wasn’t magical. Not meaning to do something didn’t just undo the hurt caused. Wasn’t that what I’d told Finn about his prank with the potion? I’d apologized, sure, but there had to be something more I could do. Something that would show Finn that I meant what I’d said, that I supported his magic fully.

  I thought about it as I put the last plate away, and then it finally came to me.

  Finn was still bent over his math book as I hurried up the stairs to my bedroom. In the closet, up on the shelf, there was a book, the cover made of carefully stitched brown leather, worn and old, and a little cracked in places, but cared for. I lifted it down carefully, enjoying the way the leather warmed under my hand.

  My mother had given me that book, a record of every potion she’d ever made. It had been started by her mother, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother before that—the line of my family, who had been Gypsy potion makers since as far back as I could remember, and beyond.

  I didn’t use it very much anymore. When I’d been a young girl, that book had been my near constant companion. I’d read it over and over again, memorizing every measurement, every instruction, until it had just about become part of me. I still brought it down sometimes, for potions that I didn’t make all the time, like I had for Gypsy Gold, but mostly the recipe book stayed on its shelf these days, where it wouldn’t get torn or damaged.

  I brushed my fingers over the leather, remembering long nights and rainy afternoons I’d spent poring over the book. Learning to brew, how to prepare ingredients, how to imbue water and oils and plants and scents, and turn them into magic. Lifting the book close to my face, I inhaled deeply. Leather and lavender, cinnamon, bergamot, jasmine, citrus and other, fainter scents that had soaked into the paper. It brought decades-faded memories swimming to the front of my head.

  I carried the book down the stairs and back into the kitchen, where Finn was just packing up his things. He glanced up as I came in, nibbling on his lower lip.

  “Is Andre still coming over tomorrow?” he asked, sounding nervous.

  “He is. He’s coming for dinner.”

  Finn visibly relaxed, a more genuine smile coming to his face. Not quite his usual sunny grin, but much closer than any of them had been for a while.

  While Finn’s grounding also meant no magic lessons for a couple weeks, apparently he’d been worried that he wouldn’t see Andre at all, or maybe he thought Andre was mad at him. While Andre obviously had been disappointed by the situation, he also understood that Finn’s intent hadn’t been malicious when he’d made the potion. And Andre was already over it, ready to move on to Finn’s next Magician trick.

  His gaze dropped to the book in my arms. “What’s that?”

  He’d seen the book before, of course. Especially when he was younger, and I’d been less confident about my measurements.

  “This is my Ouire,” I teased, dropping into the chair beside him and placing the heavy book on the table.

  “Grandma’s recipe book.” Finn traced a gentle finger over the lightly cracked leather of the spine. “Are you making a new potion?”

  “Not exactly.” I opened the book carefully, flipping through the pages until I came to the recipe for Dreamtime Oil, smoothing the paper absently with my hand. “This was the first potion your grandmother taught me how to make when I was a little girl. We worked on it together, and she taught me how to brew, how to measure, and how to put my power into the mixture and turn it into a proper magical potion.”

  All the little notes of generations of Morton women were there—scribbled in the margins: my mother’s carefully printed words next to my grandmother’s spidery scrawl. There were a few words in Gaelic in the corner that I couldn’t read, but that my mother claimed said something about not putting too much cinnamon in the brew, or the dreams it induced might get too spicy.

  Holding that book, I felt connected to all the women of my family who’d come before me. It was my tie to my ancestors, but also to our magical heritage. For centuries, we’d been brewing potions to sell and trade, and I was just the most recent to carry on the tradition. I’d always thought I might be the last, entirely.

  Magic tended to favor women. It came to them far more frequently and in greater quantity than it ever did to our male counterparts. Oh, sure, there were some exceptions to the rule, like Wanda’s cousin, Maverick. But for the most part, you’d get a hundred witches for every warlock. No one quite knew why for sure.

  So, when I’d had a son instead of a daughter, I’d assumed I’d be the last potion brewer in the family. Finn had always had his gifts, the men in my family tended to. But being able to hear a lie, or sniff out a mushroom wasn’t the same as making a potion or casting a spell, not really. Finn turning out to be a Magician, and a strong one at that, had sure been a surprise.

  The fact that he’d managed to make the Gypsy Gold potion at all was pretty impressive. Okay, sure, it hadn’t exactly come out the way he’d intended it to, but it had still worked. And, in fact, his version had been much stronger than the original. The point was: his magic had gone into the mixture and it had created a potion that worked. It made me wonder if I’d been a bit too premature in putting Mom’s book away.

  Finn was smiling, reading over my grandmother’s notes on moon phases, and how the Dreamtime Oil needed to rest in the light of a full moon, his lips moving silently as he read the words on the page. I couldn’t help but smile at the way his brow furrowed in concentration, like he thought there was going to be a test or something.

  When he finally looked away from the page, I smiled at him.

  “So, what do you think?”

  Finn’s brows pinched together in puzzlement. “Think? I mean, it’s really cool. I like all the little notes. It’s like a bunch of people all giving advice at the same time.”

  He wasn’t wrong. It was especially true of the parts where, some great, great aunts of mine had gotten into an argument right in the margins, each scribbling out the other’s notes until they’d finally declared a truce.

  “It is cool. But what I meant was: what do you think about you brewing a potion with me?”

  The way Finn’s whole face lit up was like watching the dawn break through the clouds, and it made something warm and golden kindle in my chest.

  “Really? Like you’ll teach me how to make potions?”

  I nodded. “Sure. If you want to?”

  “Yeah, I definitely want to!” He was almost bouncing in his seat with excitement.

  I couldn’t hold that golden light in any longer, and it bubbled up and out of my throat in a delighted laugh. “Why don’t you pick out the sprig of lavender we use? Make sure it isn’t too crumbly.”

  Finn leapt up to run to the cupboard where I kept my potion ingredients, moving across the floor like he had wings on his feet.

  I watched him go with a soft smile, and something warm and content in my heart.

  ~~~~

  The End

  Return to Haven Hollow in:

  Newlywed and Pixie-Led

  ~~~~~

  Return to the Table of Contents

  NEWLYWED AND PIXIE-LED

  Haven Hollow #35

  (Princess Procedural)

  by

  H.P. MALLORY

  &

  J.R. RAIN

  Newlywed and Pixie-Led

  Published by Rain Press

  Copyright © 2023 by J.R. Rain & H.P. Mallory

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Newlywed and Pixie-Led

  Chapter One

  I watched through the window as a golden leaf drifted lazily towards the ground, and I tried not to make a face.

  I used to be pretty neutral about autumn, though I appreciated the break from the summer heat. Autumn was just a time of the year, same as any other season. But lately, it was another sign that winter was inching closer, and there was nothing to be done about it.