Dying Is The Easy Part

Chapter Eleven: January 13th

Quinn couldn't decide whether they loved or hated the Greenbrook's house.

Tucked away in one of Oakriver's smaller alleys, it was a tall building that, although whimsical with the flowerpots in the windowsills and the green paint on the window shutters, still seemed perfectly mundane. In reality, it was everything but: the house was probably the most magickally charged place in Oakriver aside from Obscura, every brick and every floorboard soaked with the magick of generations of witches.

Maybe it was this that made Quinn uneasy.

Or maybe it was the bitter taste of envy that crept up on them every time they neared it and that wouldn't leave, no matter how hard they tried to swallow it down. The six women that lived behind the ivy-covered façade were as perfect a family as anything Quinn could imagine; it was a loud, cozy, fiercely protective household filled to the brim with laughter and magick. Rhiannon had grown up with spells spoon-fed to her and tales of her long line of witchy ancestors for bedtime stories—meanwhile, Quinn's only link to magick lived on the other side of the Pacific, seemingly a world away.

Even while stepping through the rusty garden gate, the air seemed to hum with magick, sending a shiver down Quinn's spine—pleasant or afraid, they didn't know. It didn't matter, either way.

Taking one last deep breath, they knocked on the door.

It flew open before they even had the chance to lower their hand, revealing Holly, Rhia's cousin. "Hey!" she exclaimed, beaming at them. "Grandma mentioned you might come by today. Come in, come in!"

Quinn wordlessly slipped inside, closing the door behind them with a soft click. Holly helpfully took their coat, clearly biting back a comment about Quinn's drab attire. With her fuchsia hair and all-pink wardrobe bright against her dark brown skin, Holly probably considered all of Quinn's blacks and greys a fashion crime. Meanwhile, Quinn couldn't imagine being so vibrant—so visible.

"You're just in time for dinner," Holly told them as she led them down the corridor. "Apparently, Grandma is under the impression that you're not eating enough, so she's spent half the day in the kitchen. I hope you're hungry."

Quinn forced an unconvincing smile and followed her into the kitchen. Just like usual, it was the warmest and the loudest place in the house, the air filled with the overwhelming scent of spices and herbs as the women whisked around the room. Rhia's mother was busy setting the table; Deloris was already sat at the end of it, acknowledging Quinn's entrance with a nod without looking up from whatever she was knitting.

Lastly, Quinn spotted Rhia and Valerie. They were standing by the stove, Valerie's chin hooked over Rhia's shoulder as their intertwined hands stirred whatever was bubbling in the pot in front of them.

"No," Rhia was saying as Quinn stepped inside. Her voice had that tone it often took on when she was talking to Valerie, warm and fondly annoyed. "Val, you're not focusing. Set your intention."

"Or what? The soup won't know what I want?"

"Yes. The whole point of kitchen magick is to infuse your cooking with an intention, not just toss something in a pot and hope for the best!"

"Sorry, sorry." Valerie cleared her throat, but there was still a grin audible in her voice as she leaned forward and told the broth: "Dear soup, please give us calm and also nutrients—"

While Rhia's mother burst out laughing, Rhia lifted a hand to shove Valerie's face away. "Get out of here, you're hopeless."

With a faux-gasp, Valerie reached out to gently tuck a stray curl behind her girlfriend's ear. Quinn's gaze caught on the motion like a nail snagging on a loose thread; something about the easy comfort, the simple familiarity between the two, made something in their chest feel heavy. "Whatever did I do?" Valerie asked in that sugary tone of hers, teasing in a way that never felt mean.