Black Candle Women

After all these decades, she’d finally forgiven the woman who’d cursed their family, and she hoped that, by returning the book, Bela Nova had forgiven her too.

Most of her conjuring benefited women who were poor, downtrodden, abused, desolate, or heartbroken. But many times, a spell worked at the expense of someone else; to make some clients win, others had to lose.

Bitch, get your fucking fingers off me. That man I killed—I loved him. What you think I’ll do to you? Asshole.

For a brief moment, Augusta wondered if maybe they’d gotten it wrong all these years. That Willow was the one who’d inherited Lanora’s gift.

sitting at the pool in full makeup and a string bikini, hoping one of the other chiseled contestants would pick her for a date.

I’ve made everything so easy for you, Willow. You have a job, a place to stay, food in the refrigerator—everything you need because of what I’ve built. And I’ve been able to care for everyone by doing what I was supposed to do. Hell, I could have gotten with a few men by now, just worried about my own needs. But no. Instead, I’ve sacrificed for this family, and for my clients. And you can’t just do this one thing for me?

She didn’t have to. I know why. It’s because she’s overprotective and controlling. She wants me to be the next Lanora, like her, worried all the time about other people’s problems. I wish she’d just eat a few gummies and chill out.

She hated when people asked about her ethnicity, if she was Creole. Like that had anything to do with how well you could hex someone if you knew what you were doing.

The Montrose women had taken on an overbalance of grief, but the way Augusta saw it, they’d been given what they were owed. And they were strong enough to endure it.