Page 13 of A Ghost’s Guide to Haunting a Witch

The hunters, unsurprisingly, didn’t appear interested in unpacking that contradiction.

Not that Augustine had ever seen one. They’d always been too careful, too cautious. But she’d heard the stories; they all had. The whispered names. The abrupt relocations of friends and family. The whole covens that went quiet overnight. Augustine had seen the way her mother’s mouth tightened when certain topics came up, the way her sisters were taught not just how to wield their gifts but when not to. It was why Eglantine had insisted on normal schooling, normal qualifications, and then normal careers. Why Celestine could hide behind astrophysics, Clem behind humanitarian work, and Maddy behind office admin and printers that inexplicably obeyed her will.

They’d all integrated into the real world. Not just because it was sensible, but because it was necessary. A defence mechanism honed over generations. A safety net to guarantee that no one outside of their circle would ever learn who they were, and what they could do.

Augustine, ironically, was the only one hiding in plain sight. A witch with a witch’s shop, selling incense and mystique and just enough nonsense to make everything look harmless.

Augustine watched as Maddy chewed on a nail, clearly uncomfortable.

“He wasn’t a witch hunter,” she said again, and Maddy clutched at the black tourmaline bracelet once more.

“You don’t know that. You can’t know that. They’re like us . . . too good at hiding who they really are.”

Augustine winced. “He didn’t seem aggressive though. And he wasn’t armed. He didn’t look anything like the men in the stories Mum used to tell us.”

No, he was much more handsome than that, she thought to herself, another spark running through her. She chewed on her lip. It would never do to tell Maddy — already suspicious, already on edge — that she’d found the customer attractive.

“Okay. Well, what exactly did he say?” Maddy asked. “Word for word, what did he say to you?”

Augustine shrugged. “Nothing really. He appeared, he loitered around—”

“What did he look at?” Maddy interjected. “Come on, Ags. Remember what Mum used to say? Every detail could be important.”

Augustine nodded. “He looked at . . . well, kind of everything, to be honest. Menopause literature.”

“Menopause . . . literature?” Maddy repeated slowly, and Augustine nodded.

“Yeah. Like I said, I don’t think he was a witch hunter. I mean, witch hunters are the very black heart of the patriarchy. I don’t think a witch hunter would turn up looking for a witch’s perspective on the change.”

Maddy took a deep breath. “Okay. That’s a little reassuring. What else did he say though?”

“I asked if he wanted any help, and he said no. He told me that he didn’t want things, he wanted a service.”

“The cards,” Maddy replied. “He wanted you to read the cards.”

“Not just that.” Augustine swallowed. “He wanted me to speak to the dead.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, and Augustine watched as Maddy clutched at the bracelet in her hand once more.

“Why?” she demanded.

“I wish I knew,” Augustine answered. “He seemed set though.”

“A witch hunter would be set, too, you know. See if you reveal yourself.”

“Maddy . . .” Augustine exhaled as fear ran through her, and she watched her sister pace the shop floor, the bracelet still in her hand.

“No one knows about us,” Maddy said. “We’ve been so careful. Always, always careful.” She stopped, taking a deep breath. “I mean, we’ve kept our coven to just the four of us. Not that we even have the ability to be a coven. You and I live here, Celeste is up in Edinburgh, and Clem . . . well, she’s wherever the wind has taken her this month.”

“It’s better this way. If we don’t see each other often, if we’re not in the same place at the same time . . . it’s safer,” Augustine said, but the words weren’t really her own. They were Celeste’s. She still remembered her older sister sitting her down, just after Clem turned eighteen, and telling her Clem had to leave.

“They’re looking for four sisters together,” Celeste had said, as gently as she could. “I’ve already left. Now it’s Clem’s turn. If we aren’t all in the same place, they can’t trace us. And if they do trace one of us, they can’t take us all out at the same time.”

Augustine had understood the logic. She still hated it.

She’d practically raised Clem and Maddy. She’d stepped in when there was no one else, doing school runs and organising dental appointments and stopping Maddy from turning her English teacher into a frog and Clem from strangling her sister with sentient climbing ivy when they argued. Sending Clem away — even for her own good — hurt so much Augustine still couldn’t bear to think about it.

She watched as her sister mulled over her words. Maddy had gone too now, but not far. Just the other side of London. That was where Augustine had drawn a line. Far enough to give them the space they all knew was necessary, but close enough that she could be with the baby of the family in forty minutes if needed.