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Chapter One

Romy

The second I pass the Welcome to Screaming Woods sign, I grip the wheel harder. What was I thinking? Is this really a good idea?

I mean, who buys a house in a town that’s supposedly full of magical monsters without scheduling an inspection first?

Hi, I’m that person. It’s me.

I roll down the window of my old car, hoping the fresh air will help calm my nerves. It’s not just the potential monsters or my impulsive real estate decision making me nervous. The art grant that brought me to Screaming Woods adds another layer of pressure.

Of course, my grant proposal didn’t mention anything about the magical Frankenpunch potion that supposedly turned some of the Screaming Woods residents into real-life monsters years ago. The committee would think I’d gone insane, so I conveniently left that part out. Besides, those are only rumors after all—something I read on the internet before the article disappeared an hour later. The accompanying blurry photograph could’ve easily been taken at any Halloween party.

Still, something about that photograph had stayed with me. Enough to make me wonder what I’d find if I came here myself.

To be fair, it sounds kind of exciting to live in a town filled with people who were turned into orcs, minotaurs, werewolves, and whatnot.

Not to mention the price of the house. It was a steal, which is saying something considering the state of the housing market. Sure, I only saw the house online, but the pictures were real and not Photoshopped or anything. I asked my best friend Bee, who works as an illustrator, to check them for me.

The house itself looks stunning with its wide porch, wood siding, and big windows. And the garden… My heart makes a little jump when I think about the lush flower beds and the trees tucking the house into a secluded corner.

Even Bee, who was skeptical about me packing up and leaving, had to admit that the garden was a cottagecore dream. I can’t wait to draw all those colors and textures in my sketchbook, maybe even paint them if the weather holds up.

I’m still thinking about my new garden when I come across a curve. I realize too late that it’s way sharper than it looks. The motorcyclist ahead of me has already slowed down for the bend.

I slam on the brakes, but it’s too late. My car clips the motorcycle’s back wheel.

Fuck!

The motorcycle wobbles. Everything seems to happen in slow motion, and before I can blink, the driver smacks into the sidewalk. My hands shake violently, and I’m positive my heart is about to burst through my chest.

What if he’s dead? Oh my god, what if I killed someone?

I scramble out of the car, my legs unsteady beneath me.

“Hello? Are you okay?” I ask in a high-pitched voice.

It’s only when he lets out a growl that I realize it’s not a normal man. The body lying on the road has horns and even a silver ring through his nose.

He gets to his feet as if he hasn’t just been thrown off a motorcycle, then hauls the bike upright and wheels it to the side of the road.

Only then does he look at me. It’s not one of those smoldering looks.

I wish.

No, he looks at me as if he’s about to strangle me.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, raising my hands in the air. “Please don’t hurt me.”

He blows out air through his impressive nose. If he’s about to make me pay for what I did, literally speaking, I’m toast. I did take some self-defense classes in high school, but that was for fighting off a person, not a… a minotaur.

“I have insurance,” I squeak when he still doesn’t say anything.

Despite how terrifying he looks, I can’t help noticing that he’s also extremely attractive. I’d really like his phone number so we can sort out the damage, but right now, I’d settle for him saying something. Anything.

I make a beeline for my car and rummage through my bag until I find a crumpled business card.

“Here, that’s my name and phone number,” I say, pressing the card into his huge hand.