Page 137 of A Ghost’s Guide to Haunting a Witch

Theo didn’t speak at first. He just looked at her, something a little like wonder in his eyes. “I woke up this morning not knowing if you were real. Now I can’t believe I ever doubted it.”

Then he kissed her again, softly, slowly and sensually. He traced the smooth, warm swell of her cheek with one hand, the other at the small of her back, pulling her closer. She leaned into both him and his kiss, opening her mouth slightly and letting his tongue softly touch hers. She sighed when she pulled away, keeping her arms around his waist.

“One thing,” she said. “I’m bringing my cat.”

“Okay,” Theo agreed. “Although he’s actually my cat. I found him first, remember?”

“No,” she confessed, before she laughed. “We still have so much to learn about each other. Again.”

He nodded. “The one thing I don’t need to learn again is that I love you.”

When Augustine kissed him again, the feeling that rose through her wasn’t wild or unpredictable, not like the magic she’d spent her whole life chasing.

It was steadier than that. Stronger.

It was love. And maybe, Augustine thought, as Theo kissed her back, love had always been its own kind of magic.

Epilogue

The next morning, Maddy woke up with a start, not really knowing where she was or who she was with. A man was next to her, and she blinked down at him, realization running through her, embarrassment flooding her stomach.

“Oh, no, not again,” she murmured. “Urgh. You idiot. You utter idiot.”

She extricated herself slowly, careful not to wake him, even as a familiar, weary denial settled over her.

“Rats,” she muttered under her breath, dragging a hand down her face. “How many times are you going to make this mistake? Every Halloween. It’s getting to be a bad joke.”

It would be funny, if it wasn’t so predictable. If it didn’t feel so . . . cyclical.

She reached for the robe draped over the back of a chair and pulled it around herself, tying it loosely at the waist before padding barefoot out of the room and down the hall.

The kitchen light was already on, but then, of course it was. Celestine was visiting, wasn’t she? She’d probably already been for a run, aligned with the moon, showered, journaled, and had a spiritually-balanced breakfast before most people had located their will to live. If there was ever an early morning routine Olympics, Celestine would win gold.

Her sister stood by the counter, one hand wrapped around a mug of coffee, the other resting lightly against the worktop. She looked tired, with shadows under her eyes and her hair not quite as immaculately styled as usual. There was something else there too, though. Something that made her blink, because Celestine looked almost . . . relaxed.

She hovered in the doorway for a second before stepping in. “Is there any coffee left?”

“That depends.” Celestine took a slow sip, watching her over the rim of her mug. “Is your . . . visitor still with us?”

Right. Him.

She paused, then nodded reluctantly. “For now. Don’t worry, though. I’ll shift him soon enough. He’s just a mistake I make.” Maddy shrugged. “Every Halloween. For the past three years.”

Celestine hummed, unimpressed, but handed her a coffee all the same. “I’m not judging.” There was a brief pause. “Much.”

Maddy laughed, taking a sip before glancing sideways at her sister. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look weird. Tired, but nice tired. Like you spent too long at a spa or something. What is it? Did Saturn and Jupiter cross paths again?”

“Actually.” Celestine shrugged lightly. “I was worried about Ags.”

There was a beat, and then—

“Wait, what’s wrong with Ags?” Maddy demanded suddenly, freezing mid-sip.

Celestine didn’t even blink. “She never texted to say she got home last night.”

Maddy’s face drained of colour instantly. “What? Why didn’t she? God, what if something’s happened? What if—?” She stopped, taking in the easy slouch to Celestine’s back, the utter ease written in her sister’s eyes. “Wait,” Maddy said suspiciously. “Why are you so calm?”

Celestine’s mouth curved slightly, faint amusement threading through the exhaustion. “Because Ags is fine.”