“You can open your eyes,” Lydia said. “I promise, my home is safe.”

Cora still felt the warmth on her skin but slowly opened an eye. She stood in a small bedroom that looked nothing like the MacGregor house. The wallpaper was something a grandmother would choose as was the worn antique furniture.

Lydia stood with her back pressed to the bedroom door. A light knock sounded behind her. “No, I warned you, if you can’t behave you’ll have to go wait downstairs.”

Euann still held her hand. “Ya might want to bring that foot with ya.”

Cora realized her foot was still on the other side of the glass and jerked it through. The warmth dissipated. Lydia tried to lead them from the room, but Erik almost fell into her as if he’d been leaning against the door waiting for his wife.

“Erik MacGregor, what are you doing?” Lydia scolded.

“I missed ya, a stóirín,” he said.

The love Erik felt for his wife was evident in the way he looked at her. The love Lydia felt for him showed in the arched brow and fake look of annoyance. He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, and her expression changed as she chuckled. “Let’s go. You promised me nachos.”

“I said if the secret mob boss had nachos,” Erik corrected as he slung his arm over Lydia’s shoulders and steered her from the room.

“What self-respecting bar doesn’t have nachos?”

Whatever Erik whispered in his wife’s ear to answer the question made Lydia giggle, and she slugged him lightly on the arm.

“Shall we?” Euann held his arm for her to take as if she were some fine lady being escorted by a gentleman.

“We shall,” she answered, touching his arm with the tips of her fingers.

Though much smaller than the mansion, Erik and Lydia’s home had charm. They passed by another bedroom and a bathroom. The doors were open, unlike the MacGregor’s upstairs hall. Though clean, there was a lived-in feel to the place. Lydia didn’t seem to be trying for the cover of a magazine like the mansion.

They had to part at the stairs, and he stepped back to let her go first. What would have been the living room had been converted into a storefront. Displays held bottles of lotions and soaps. They were lined up in neat order, like rows of a marching band in perfect formation. The couch was new, and the coffee table looked like an antique. The picture window behind the sofa showed that the rain had stopped. It also showed that they were no longer high on a hill.

Cora went to a display to read the labels. “Love Potions.” She glanced at a couple of the fragrance combinations—lavender vanilla, pumpkin coffee, apple tart.

“My wife is quite the successful entrepreneur,” Erik bragged. “She sold over three-hundred-thousand units last—”

“Erik, stop,” Lydia interrupted.

“What?” Erik asked. “I’m proud of ya.”

“Congratulations,” Cora said for lack of anything better to say. “It looks like an amazing brand.”

To the left was a kitchen where Iain sat with his wife at a table. Upon seeing them, Iain stood. “Let’s go!”

“Are we walking, or do we have Euann summon a driver on his phone with that app thing?” Erik asked.

“I’m fine walking,” Cora said when Euann glanced at her. “I’d like to see more of the town. I was a little preoccupied driving in, but from what I recall it is beautiful.”

“It is,” Iain agreed. They used the screen door in the kitchen. One car was parked in the drive, but it wouldn’t hold all of them. “Downtown reminds me of the burghs when we were children.”

“You’re remembering wrong. The downtown buildings are red,” Rory said, “the burghs were gray.”

“The place is not far,” Euann said, “just the rest of the way down the hill and then a couple of blocks.”

Cora glanced up at Lydia’s Victorian house nestled along the side of a hill. The mansion was nowhere in sight. “How far did we travel?”

“The main house is up there.” Lydia pointed. “We share the hill.”

“This house was built back in the day by some displaced English lord for his mother-in-law,” Jane added. “I guess the mansion wasn’t big enough to let the woman stay there.”

“Hey,” Iain said.

“Not saying anything about mothers-in-law in general, just the English lord’s.” Jane batted her lashes at her husband.

“Hmm,” Iain answered, unconvinced.

“My grandfather bought this house for my gramma Annabelle.” Lydia smiled as she looked up at it. “She spent her life casting protection spells over it. Gramma believed in the old ways, in those who could harness the magick of the earth and sky. She used to tell me stories about those who lived forever hidden amongst normal folk. I used to think she was crazy—heck, everyone in town still thinks she was crazy—but I know better now. I met my immortal warlock here.” She smiled softly. “I could never live anywhere else. I like to think the real magick of this house began with my grandparents’ love.”

“That’s because it did,” a new voice said. The feminine sound was airy and light.

Cora tensed and started to turn around. The smell of flowers became strong, and a small chill ran up her spine.

Lydia grabbed hold of her arm, stopping her from turning. “Before you look, know that nothing is going to hurt you. How do you feel about ghosts?”

“Ah,” a small squeak left her, “I…”

“Gramma is friendly. I promise.” Lydia let her go.

Despite the assurances, Cora slowly turned her head to peek over her shoulder.

The transparent figure of an older woman in a sparkly green ballgown stood next to Rory. She wiggled her fingers. “Hello, dear. Can I assume you are with one of these two? I must say I’m surprised. I wagered that they wouldn’t know how to meet a woman if she sat on their laps.”

Iain and Erik laughed.

“Gramma, behave,” Lydia scolded.

“You’re…ah…” Cora pointed at Annabelle.

“The word you’re looking for is ghost,” Annabelle said. “Or spirit, apparition, ethereal being—that last one has a very glamorous ring to it don’t you think?”

“Okay.” Cora nodded weakly.

Euann touched her elbow, and she instantly felt a little less nervous.

“You chose that one.” Annabelle nodded. “Well done, Euann, don’t fuck it up.”

Hearing the otherwise sweet-looking old woman curse, a short burst of surprised laughter escaped Cora.

“Ah, so you’re not yet committed to him.” Annabelle smiled in approval. “Good girl. Keep them on their toes and wanting more.”

“Hi, Gramma.” Jane leaned forward to give the spirit an air kiss by her cheek. “We’re going to a bar to drink more beer than we should and get Lydia nachos. I’m sure you approve.”

“Indeed I do. Have fun.” Annabelle’s form began to fade. She pointed at Cora. “You come back and see me very soon.”

Annabelle disappeared.

“She can’t come with us?” Cora asked.

“No, she’s tethered to the house,” Lydia explained.

That bit of news caused Cora to walk down the hill a little faster than usual. “What else is on this side of the looking glass?”

“What do you mean?” Lydia asked.

Jane laughed. “You’ll get used to it, Alice, I promise.”

“Alice?” Rory asked.

“You should read more books,” Jane answered.

“Oh, yeah, I saw that one on television,” Rory said.

Vehicles drove over the wet streets, splashing in puddles. The burr of engines and the sound of tires rolling over the red-brick streets passed in regular intervals. Cora noticed many of the townsfolk stared at them from their car windows. Lydia waved at every one of them. Jane ignored them as she held a side conversation with her husband about plant orders. It didn’t take long to realize Jane owned a greenhouse.

“Hello, Sheriff Johnson,” Lydia called as a squad car passed. The man lifted his hand in response.

To Cora, Jane said, “I swear that man drives around in circles. I always see him downtown.”

“That’s why I take the side streets when I want to speed,” said Erik.

Cora fell into step beside Euann. The back of their hands bumped together, and she felt a tingle shoot through her. She thought about their kiss.

Downtown, the historic brick buildings stood close together. Streetlights, benches, and potted flowers lined the street. The town clearly cared about the upkeep.

Laughter and music came out of a bar.

“Hey!” a group shouted when Rory passed by the open door. He lifted his hand and answered in kind.

As they turned a corner and made their way down the block, the sound of laughter and music faded. The streetlights were dimmer than on Main Street and there was less traffic. A wooden sign with Old English lettering hung over the sidewalk, much like she’d expect to see in late medieval England. It read, “Crimson Tavern.”

“It doesn’t seem to be that busy,” Jane observed. “I hope that doesn’t mean it’s poor quality.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean they’re out of nachos,” Lydia said.

“What is it with ya and nachos?” Erik asked.

Lydia shrugged. “Who doesn’t like nachos?”

“Maybe it’s only a front and they don’t need business,” said Rory.

“I hope they’re not out of beer.” Iain pulled his wife next to him and kissed the tip of her nose.

“Is that…?” Rory lifted his hand to motion toward a parked blue sedan.

In unison, Euann and Iain finished in an annoyed tone, “Mrs. Callister.”

“Who’s Mrs. Callister?” Cora wondered what kind of paranormal creature this would be. They seemed to be lurking around every corner.

“Local busybody,” Lydia grumbled, “and all-around nuisance.”

“She thinks she’s a journalist because she figured out how to make a free blog online. She follows us around taking notes and then posts her musings online along with our pictures.” Euann’s lip curled a little in disgust. “She’s a pest.”

Rory lifted a finger in realization. “That’s where I heard about the mob boss.”

“Why do ya read that drivel?” Erik asked.

Rory shrugged. “I don’t know. It makes me laugh.”

Cora almost felt disappointed that this Mrs. Callister was a simple human.

“She really likes Euann,” Rory teased.

“What was it she wrote?” Erik touched his chin in thought.

“Euann MacGregor, who may be likened to a local hero—” Rory began, his voice lifting to mimic that of a shaky old woman.

“Local superhero,” Erik corrected dryly.

“Quite right,” Rory agreed, before continuing, “who may be likened to a local superhero, has proven his loyalty to the community this last week when he saved fifty children from a burning school bus going fifty thousand miles per hour on Old Farmer Road. He is to be worshipped every Tuesday at three p.m.”

Laughter erupted from all but Euann, who frowned. “That is not what happened or what she wrote. Cora, ignore my cousin. We’ve been meaning to get him help.”

Cora chuckled. “It doesn’t sound like she’s too bad.”

“Erik MacGregor was caught with his kilt up on poor sweet Lydia’s front lawn.” Rory patted Erik on the shoulder before turning to push his face close to Iain’s. “Sources say that the MacGregor family is keeping Iain in a glass coffin, where they work dark magick to bring him back from the dead.”

“She did not,” Jane exclaimed, hitting Rory away from her husband. “She implies things without directly accusing, like, MacGregors purchased another lot. Soon they will own the whole town. What lessons have history taught us about landowners with too much power, I wonder? I, for one, will be keeping a close eye on things, especially come the next elections.”

Lydia continued, “More MacGregors have been spotted in town. The population of our quaint little hamlet will soon double at this rate. Let’s hope we can hold on to our small-town values as we are infused with big-city folk.”

“I take it back,” Cora said. “She sounds like a pot stirrer.”

“I think she’s keeping an eye on this bar,” Jane said.

“Well, I mean, the mafia is inside,” Euann drawled.

“Euann, go talk to her. See what’s up.” Erik gestured toward the blue car. “She’s watching this place for a reason. Go find out what she knows about the new owner in case Cora’s hunch is right and it’s not a coincidence that this place opened up right before Jewel arrived.”

Rory snickered. “Yeah, Euann, go tell your girlfriend hi.”

Euann sighed. “Excuse me, Cora, I’ll be right back.”