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Mercy nodded. “Yeah. I’m still sad. I miss Abigail so much that my heart feels weird and heavy, but before the spell I couldn’t make my mind work. It was like I was trying to think through mud. No, not mud. Fog. My brain was all foggy. I couldn’t concentrate. All I wanted to do was cry or sleep—or both. What you guys did made the fog lift.”

“And now you can start feeling better?” Emily asked tentatively.

Mercy let out a long breath. “Yeah. Before I couldn’t see through my grief to any future. Now I know Hunter and I will have a future. It’ll be different than we ever imagined it would be, but at least now I can start imagining it.”

Mercy pushed against the porch with her feet and the swing glided back and forth gently, soothingly, as they gazed up at the starry night sky. They didn’t speak, but Emily reached over and covered Mercy’s hand with her own and Mercy felt her friend’s love and support flow into her.

Hunter reappeared holding a tray laden with one of their mom’s many tea sets, her thick grimoire tucked under her arm. “Thought we could all use some lavender and chamomile tea.”

“Great idea, H!” Mercy took the tray from her sister and put it on the wicker table that sat between the swing and the wooden rockers that were often filled with friends or Abigail’s customers. Mercy spooned honey into three delicate cups before pouring the fragrant tea and passing the cups to her sister and her best friend.

Between careful sips Emily said, “Hey, um, I wanted to tell you two how cool that was.”

“That?” Hunter peered up from writing in her book of spells.

Emily jerked her chin at the grimoire. “That. The spell thing you did tonight.”

Hunter lifted one shoulder. “We did it. The five of us.”

“But you were the witch that led us,” said Mercy. “And you made the spell up yourself, didn’t you?”

Hunter’s cheeks flushed pink. “I didn’t have time to go through all the spell books to find exactly what we needed, so I had to.”

“It was perfect, H. Really,” said Mercy.

Hunter met her twin’s gaze. “You can be you again now.”

“I can be me again now,” Mercy repeated.

“You know, I forget that you two can do actual magic,” said Emily.

“Well, it’s not like we go around bippity-boppity-booing all the time,” said Mercy.

“But you could, right? I mean, it’d be super cool if you did.” Emily peered, owllike, from one twin to the other.

“An ye harm none, do what ye will.” Hunter spoke the words reverently.

Mercy shared a knowing look with her sister. “Which means, Em, that what you think is super cool would make a lot of people really uncomfortable, so we don’t do it.”

“Like Kirk was tonight,” Hunter added.

Mercy felt a jolt of surprise. “Kirk? What do you mean? He seemed fine.”

Emily snorted.

“Okay, what happened?” Mercy insisted as she looked from her best friend to her sister.

Emily stirred her tea, letting the spoon clink against the porcelain cup. “He kinda freaked. Before, when Hunter was getting us ready. Setting our intention. Is that the right word?”

Mercy and Hunter nodded together. “Yeah, that’s what it’s called,” said Mercy. “Setting the intention of a spell or a ritual is one of the most important aspects of magic.” She met her twin’s gaze. “What’d he do?”

“He didn’t really do anything. He was just weird about the whole real magic-ness of it all. I needed him to be one hundred percent, and I wasn’t sure he’d commit.” Hunter shrugged nonchalantly and shifted her gaze to her spell book.

Mercy looked at her sister, who was writing in her grimoire and wouldn’t meet her eyes. She sighed. “I’m sorry about that, H.”

Still not looking up from her spell book, Hunter said, “The important part is that he didn’t mess up the spell.”

“No, the important part is that you included him,” Mercy said, and Hunter finally met her gaze. “Thanks. Even though Kirk can be a pain in the ass—thanks.”

“No problem,” her sister said.

Emily pushed her feet against the porch so that the swing continued to glide back and forth. “I guess it’s actually not too surprising Kirk was uncomfortable.”

“How so?” asked Mercy, draping an arm over the back of the swing as she blew across the amber colored surface of her steaming tea.

“Well, Kirk hasn’t been hanging around you two for long. I mean, I’ve known you guys since we were practically in diapers. I’m used to the fact that you’re witches, but even I was shocked by how for real magical that spell was.”

“Oh, please.” Hunter’s face was turned down to her grimoire again. “Practically everyone who lives in Goodeville knows we’re witches.”

“Knowing and seeing are two way different things,” said Emily.

“I’ll talk to Kirk, but he seemed okay when he left,” said Mercy.

“Yeah, be sure he doesn’t get the pitchforks and torches out,” muttered Hunter.

Mercy frowned at her sister. “Why wasn’t Jax freaked out? His parents are uber-religious.”

Hunter shook her head. “His mother is. She’s super Protestant. Her family has lived here since the beginning of Goodeville. He’s a lot cooler, plus, we’ve known Jax for a million years; he accepts us. You don’t need to worry about him freaking.” Hunter brushed her ponytail off her shoulder. “But Kirk was never fully into the spell or okay with it, and we don’t need the stress he could cause by telling people our business.”

“Don’t worry about Kirk. I’ll take care of him,” said Mercy.

Emily cleared her throat loudly, causing both girls to shift their attention to her.

“I just want to officially let you know that if you need any other help with spell stuff or ritual whatchamacallit, I’m your girl. I wasn’t freaked. I thought it was amazing.”

“Your energy is really good,” Hunter said.

Mercy nodded. “That helped the spell’s success.”

Emily grinned. “Can I pretend to almost be a witch?”

From just inside the open door Xena yowled.

Emily’s grin faded. “Never mind. She already wants to kill me. I’ll just leave

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