The Hex Next Door: Witches of Moondale, #1

What the fuck, Rus muttered, her gaze fixed on the Moondale town sign. She’d said she’d never come back to this place. But that was the thing about where you grew up: it had the power to drag you back like the fucking Bermuda Triangle. And Rus would know—she’d been to the Bermuda Triangle four or five times in the years since she’d left Moondale behind. The particulars weren’t important. What was important was that Rus was sure she’d wind up there four or five more times before she died.

Rus? Nesta tilted their head, a piece of floppy black hair falling into their eyes. They looked just how Rus remembered them, and she still wasn’t sure how to feel about that. But she’d likely beg for Nesta’s skin care regime before the day was done.

Nothing. Let’s just get this over with. Rus shook herself and jerked her gaze back to the view through the windshield.

Moondale looked different and yet the same. It had sprawled out past the little dot on the coast where its founders had originally settled, up into the mountain beyond to include a ski lodge and even a few big-name hotels. Of that Rus was grateful; she didn’t think she could stay in one of the inns in town with the kids. Not if she wanted to keep the Board of Magic off her ass for more than a week.

Nesta was still glancing at her from the driver’s seat. Rus could feel those cunning eyes looking for . . . something. Maybe some sign of what Rus was thinking. They wouldn’t find anything. More than a decade spanned between them, and Rus had learned long ago to keep her thoughts tucked away where they couldn’t be used against her.

I just can’t believe you became a realtor. Rus tilted her head, letting a teasing smile tug up the corners of her mouth. It would hopefully be enough to keep Nesta from asking inconvenient questions.

Nesta shrugged, turning down one of the side roads off Main Street. They were headed toward the older part of town, the buildings around them changing from relatively modern retail to small suburban homes to Gothic-style houses that would make the Addams family jealous.

How did your parents take it? Rus pressed. Anything to ignore the way her stomach was writhing with nerves. She hoped she wouldn’t see anyone else she knew, not before she was settled. But in a town that hardly had more than a few thousand residents to boast, that was likely impossible. At least she’d be at work, so Rus could avoid that particular awkward encounter. I mean . . . a cupid not becoming a matchmaker for the board? That’s⁠—

I told them I didn’t think the board would be using matchmakers much longer, Nesta said, and they sounded smug about it. Like they’d realized a new hairstyle would be trending long before anyone else could.

And? Rus had to know, because she could just imagine old man Holyore absolutely losing his shit at his child chucking tradition out the proverbial window. He might quiver right out of his beard.

And they didn’t agree . . . Nesta’s mouth twisted up into a knowing smirk, their eyes still firmly on the road. At first.

Well. That sounded like a story and a half. One they probably didn’t have time for, and it would likely require wine. Lots of wine. Rus snorted, rolling her eyes. Okay, but a realtor though?

Why not? The same principles apply. It’s all about listening to harmonizing energies. And this house? Nesta put the car in park outside of yet another Gothic-style house perched on the far end of one of Moondale’s more ancient-looking cemeteries. It wants you, Rus.

Ew. Don’t make it sound creepy. Rus huffed, her hand twitching to give Nesta a fond shove, but she resisted the urge. They weren’t friends like that, not anymore. So instead, she turned her attention to the house.

Rus blinked up at it. It looked like something out of Hansel and Gretel, with a small porch, three walk-out balconies off the rooms upstairs, and a legit tower. Or . . . maybe tower wasn’t the word for whatever that was, but Rus imagined the room on the first floor would be the perfect place to put a reading and playroom for the girls, and the second an ideal shrine for their parents’ tablets. The only thing was⁠—

"Nesta, you are aware that this house is . . . pink, right?" Rus cocked her head. It wasn’t unbearably pink. It didn’t reek of Barbie Dreamhouse. But it was most definitely a shade of pastel that Rus was sure she’d never worn in her entire life.

Lilac, actually. And what’s that saying about not judging a house by its siding color?

I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing.

You ready to see inside, or what? Nesta asked, already reaching for the door to climb out.

Rus nodded dumbly, scrambling from the car to follow them through the little wrought iron gate and up the walk. The door opened onto a small foyer bedecked in black walls, and a little gray bench off to the side with hooks hanging above it for coats.

Nesta was saying something about the history of the house, and the remodeling, and something about all the furnishings coming with the place if that’s what she wanted, but Rus had largely stopped listening. Because the house—157 Mourning Moore—was exactly what Rus had always imagined when she’d thought of a home for herself. The walls were all black, but there was enough natural lighting about the place that it didn’t feel dark and gloomy. And there were pops of color here and there: A throw pillow on the bench in the foyer. Silver birch tree wallpaper in the study. A collection of velvet pillows in the strange round room of the tower that Rus had decided would make a great study and playroom. It was⁠—

Who’s watching the kids?

Huh? Rus shook herself, tearing her eyes away from the frankly spectacular nursery. Aihuan was a little old for a crib, but that was an easy enough fix. She’d love the brightly painted forest critters on the black wallpaper. Oh. Their Uncle Fernando. But I can’t leave them with him long, or by the time I get back they’ll have given him a makeover. Buzzcut included. Meiling is a menace.

Fernando?

Yeah. He’s one of the witches I met online. Good kid. Little awkward, but who isn’t these days? He’ll be moving in with us for a bit until we’re settled in and we can find him his own place. Rus paced to the window. The view from the nursery was of Moondale, and not the cemetery. She’d have to check to make sure Meiling’s window didn’t overlook it either. Neither of her girls needed to see the spirits that were standing on the edge of the property looking up at the house. Even now, Rus could feel their gaze on her, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Really, she’d thought the board had Rules about letting spirits languish without rest like that. But then . . . maybe they hadn’t had another medium in town since she’d left. And if those spirits weren’t doing anything other than just floating around, no one would notice them outside of a medium.

Is he your . . . ? Nesta drifted off, their perfectly plucked brows turning down to wrinkle in the middle.

Rus laughed. Goddess no. We’re just friends. He’s good with the girls, though.

I see. Well. There’s still the attic. Nesta gestured to the narrow stairs that led up to the last room in the house.

Lead the way. Rus gestured for Nesta to go first and followed them when they turned on their heel to head upstairs. She’d have to set wards to make sure the girls didn’t leave the house without her knowing if she wasn’t on the same floor as them. But what was magic for if not to keep her girls safe?

The little door at the top of the steps opened to a large bedroom with stripe charcoal on black wallpapered walls, an awkwardly cut ceiling, and a heavy-looking fourposter bed. In the one little nook in front of a window that overlooked the cemetery was a small desk, which would be perfect for Rus’s more . . . unsavory experiments. And opposite that was a small bathroom with a clawfoot tub, two tiny stand sinks, a toilet, and a plant in front of a window that would definitely not live to see the end of the week if Rus had anything to say about it.

Okay. You’re right. Rus laughed a little to herself as she turned to tip an imaginary hat to Nesta. Me and this house are soulmates.

I hate to say I told you so⁠—

No, you don’t.

I’ll go grab the paperwork out of the car. Meet me on the back porch. And feel free to look around the yard.

Is it screened in?

Would I show you a house with a porch that wasn’t? Nesta winked, and then disappeared down the steps.

Rus went back into the bedroom and turned on her heel, looking around. It would need some personalization, but she could see herself being quite happy there. Well, she said to the house because places, like people, liked to be acknowledged. I hope you’ll take good care of me and my girls.

The house didn’t respond. They never did. But when Rus made her way past the nursery again, the crib had been swapped out for a little gray loft bed with a slide and a toy chest underneath. And, she supposed, that was enough of an answer.

The yard abutted two sides of the old cemetery, which seemed to have been built around the house instead of vice versa. Rus exhaled loudly, her breath pushing strands of chin-length bright pink hair out of her face.

I’m going to have to do something about you, aren’t I? she said more to herself than to the spirits toeing the line between the yard and the cemetery. There was no fence to distinguish one from the other, but it was clear where her yard ended and the graveyard began because the spirits wouldn’t cross the property line. The worst part is, the board probably won’t even give me credit for it. They’ll attribute the lowered negative energy to like . . . their attempts to promote unity through more frequent clan and coven meetings or some shit. Rus snorted, rolling her eyes.

It’s warded. Nesta slapped a manila folder down onto the back porch table.

Hm?

The whole property is warded against malignant energies. That’s one of the selling points.

Who did the wards? Rus sat in one of the wrought iron chairs and started flipping through the contract, pretending to read it. They both knew that was bullshit; Rus had never read paperwork a day in her life. But she liked to pretend she was an adult who considered big commitments like a house carefully.

Crimson Tide Coven.

Of fucking course it was them. Rus huffed. You think Greer will be super pissed if I take them all down and put up my own?

Probably. But when was the last time you cared what Evander Greer thought? Plus, if you sign here—Nesta tapped the paper with one neatly rounded fingernail—it’ll be your property and there’s nothing anyone can say about it, not even the sheriff.

Doesn’t mean the board won’t try, Rus grumbled, grabbing the pen to start signing her life away. Wait. She stopped halfway through the fourth page. "Did you just say sheriff?"

Yeah. Sheriff Evander Greer. Nesta tilted their head, but their mouth was twitching up at the corners.

Rus groaned, dropping forward to smack her head on the table. It hurt. But likely not as much as a run-in with Sheriff Greer would. Remind me to stay out of his way for the next like . . . hundred years or so.

Oh, don’t be silly. I’m sure he’s not still holding a grudge because of the time you⁠—

Rus lifted her head just enough to raise one brow at Nesta.

Well, maybe he is. But either way, you’ll be fine. I mean, you’ve got your girls, and the house, and the business. There won’t be time for you to stir up trouble.

Rus continued to stare at them with the same brow lifted.

I won’t tell him you’re back in town, and maybe he’ll never find out? Nesta sagged.

That’s all you had to say. Rus sat up and went back to signing the papers. Maybe I shouldn’t have come back, though. We could have gone . . . somewhere else.

"Why did you come back?" Nesta pulled out a chair to sit across from her, their face suddenly open with curiosity.

Moondale’s got a good school system for witches. The lie slipped easily off her tongue. It wasn’t even really a lie—Moondale did have an excellent magical school system. But she was sure she could have found someplace equally as good in Europe if she’d wanted to. Or even taught the girls herself. But there was safety in a place as steeped in magic as Moondale was. The very earth the place was built on would give off enough ambient energy to hide Rus and her children. Or so she hoped.

Fine. Keep your secrets. Nesta leaned over to watch Rus scrawl her untidy signature across page after page of legalese.

Rus lifted the pen to shake out her hand where it had started to cramp when she finally got to the last page.

So, are you going to see Azure?

Rus’s hand jerked, the pen skittering and leaving a nasty mark across the page that she was sure Nesta would need to reprint. What?

Azure Elwood. Are you going to go see her? Does she even know you’re moving back?

I’m pretty sure Az hates me, Rus said, instead of telling Nesta that no, Az did not know she was moving back to Moondale. She finished the final signature with a flourish then pushed the folder over to Nesta for them to sign.

"Hate isn’t the word I’d use." Nesta closed the folder with a snap.

What? Rus frowned.

What? Nesta tilted their head, their nose crinkling up in an expression of innocence that no one who knew anything about Nesta Holyore would ever believe. You can start moving in tomorrow. You’re keeping the furniture, right?

Yeah. I mean, I don’t have any of my own, so. Rus stood, stretching out her neck from side to side where it had grown stiff from being hunched over the papers.

All right then. I’ll have my crew come by and help out if you need it?

That’d be great. I have to finish opening up the shop tomorrow, and Fernando needs to be there to help wrangle the kids while we work.

You know, I never asked. Nesta headed back through the house toward their car. How old are your kids?

Aihuan will be four in October. And Meiling just turned thirteen. I’ve already got her signed up over at Moondale High.

Ah, so they’re . . . Nesta drifted off, looking like they expected Rus to fill in the blank of what they were trying to say. But Rus had spent the last six months filling in the blank for people, and she wasn’t about to do that. Not here. Not anymore.

They’re amazing, Rus said. It didn’t matter if they weren’t hers biologically—they were hers in every way that counted.

Right. Well, you can stay the night here if you want. Nesta pulled a key from their pocket to hold out to Rus. I’m sure the bedding is clean. The house generally takes care of all that.

Before you go, can you tell me what happened to the previous owners? I mean . . . it’s so well-behaved, I can’t imagine a magical family just up and leaving it.

Well, Nesta said, a little smile crinkling their eyes as they looked back to the house. It’s got a bit of a sassy streak. I guess the previous owners didn’t find that amusing. But I’m sure you’ll get along with it just fine.

A sassy streak?

You’ll see. Nesta winked, and then they climbed into their car and pulled away from the curb without another word.

Rus crossed her arms over her chest and turned back to the house. The little cherry blossom out front was swaying gently, its orange and red leaves falling to the ground in a hush.

You’re not going to give me any trouble, are you? she asked the house.

The house didn’t respond.

Didn’t think so. She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed Fernando. Hey. You can bring the kids to the house. I’ll send over the address.

Do we need to bring the truck? Fernando’s voice was soft on the other side of the line, but Rus could hear Aihuan squealing at something and Meiling talking probably too loud for the small hotel room.

No. Nesta said they’ll send by movers to help us. We’ll deal with all that tomorrow. For tonight I’ll just order us a pizza, and we can rest. Do you need me to come help get them in the car? A crow cawed, its black body swooping low over the cemetery to better assess the threat levels before Darcy came to rest on Rus’s shoulder, his talons digging into her thick hoodie. Cause if not, I’ve got some cleaning up I need to do around here.

I don’t think so. Fernando was smiling into the phone; Rus could hear it. I think I’ve finally figured out Aihuan’s car seat.

If you need help, just ask Meiling. She knows what to do. I’ll have dinner waiting for you guys when you get here.

Is that Aunt Rus? Meiling asked in the background.

Yes. Fernando pulled his face away from the phone, and Rus could imagine him turning the full softness of his smile onto Meiling.

Did she get us a house?

Yes! I got you a house! Rus shouted into the phone, her excitement unseating Darcy, who cast her an annoyed glance that she shrugged off. The perfect house! You’re going to love it, A-Ling!

YEEEEEEEEES! Meiling cheered. Huaner! We have a house!

We have a house! We have a house! We have a house! Aihuan shouted, feeding off her big sister’s excitement. It sounded like Fernando had put Rus on speaker.

But that means you two need to help Uncle Nando get packed up and get over here so you can see your rooms. Rus felt her cheeks aching from the smile that split her own face.

Okay! Meiling called, and then Rus could hear some commotion on the other end as she presumably got to work picking up all of Aihuan’s toys or maybe just shoving stuff into the oversized duffle Rus had left on the floor by the door.

You sure you don’t need me to come help herd the cats? Rus asked with a little laugh.

No. I’ve got it covered. Fernando’s shirt rustled against the phone as he too began to help packing. I think you managed to get all the really important stuff into the car before you left.

Toys are important! Aihuan shouted.

Right, sorry, of course, Huaner. Anyway, we’ll see you there. Then he hung up, and Rus was left standing on the porch of her new house, listening to the silence of it. Darcy settled on her shoulder again, giving his witch an affectionate nip to her ear. A gentle reminder.

Movement out of the corner of her eye made her turn her head, and she saw the restless spirits on the edge of the graveyard again, turned milky in the fading light of early evening. Right. Got to deal with them real quick before the girls get here.

She tucked her phone into her back pocket and strode across the yard.

It was a morning like any other Azure had experienced. She woke with her alarm in enough time to go for a short run down the trail behind her house, shower, feed Lizzie, and eat breakfast before she needed to leave home for work. Really, the whole routine was like clockwork. Violet often joked that she could set her watch by her little sister’s morning.

Except . . .

Someone was moving into the house down the street.

Azure stopped on the sidewalk, her routine carefully slipping away as the ten-minute walk into town turned into eleven, then twelve, then fifteen.

Someone was moving into the house down the street. The house that had called to Azure since she was five years old, newly orphaned, and moving in with Aunt Carmine. Her house. With the lilac siding and lavender accents. The one that she’d always known she would one day buy. She’d dreamed of it so often when she was a little girl that she’d almost started to think it had actually happened in another life. That she had bought that house, and moved into it with the person she loved, and lived happily ever after.

Except . . .

Except someone else was moving into it now. Someone with a child, maybe two, if the boxes labelled toys were anything to go by.

Aunt Maureen would want to stop by later with something to welcome the new neighbors. A cake. Or a lasagna perhaps. It was the polite thing to do. Indigo could go with her. It should be Azure, since she was the oldest sibling still living with their aunts, but she’d refuse. Courtesy be damned.

Hey, can you read the handwriting on this box? one of the movers called, his arms weighed down with a cardboard box almost bigger than his torso.

Another of the movers came over, tilting her head this way and that as she tried to figure out what it said on the label. She shrugged. No idea. Just put it in the living room with the other miscellaneous stuff. The owners can sort it out when they get home.

He nodded and headed inside with the box. Azure shook herself, turning back to the sidewalk that would lead into town. She forced her thoughts away from the new inhabitants of her house and toward work, running through the short mental opening checklist she’d compiled from the previous evening’s close.

Restock the planner section—they had run low because of school starting up.

Log in the shipment from the weekend.

Check the stock on tarot cards.

Reorganize the⁠—

Wait. She stopped in front of the shop, her eyes narrowing on the reflection in the glass of the window from across the street. Azure turned, frowning.

The coffee shop seemed to have appeared overnight as things were wont to do sometimes in a town so steeped in magic. Like a dead mouse or a new sprout on one’s plant. Not there one minute, and suddenly there the next.

The exterior had been painted black all around the big open windows and double doors. And on the big blank space where a sign usually went on shops in Moondale rested the word Necromancer’s in a distinctly boney-looking