“I drank some of yours,” Quinn said to her mom. “But I didn’t see anything. I thought maybe… Dad…” Her voice cracked. “But it didn’t work on me. Apparently nothing does.”

Taylor took Quinn’s hand, and Clem wrapped an arm around her shoulder. A lump formed in Quinn’s throat. She swallowed and brushed back the tears welling in her eyes. “I was hoping you could try…”

Chapter 37

Maura

Maura stared at the bottle in front of her like it was a cottonmouth preparing to strike. She didn’t drink Bonner’s on principle, but she had to know what Sylvia had taken from her.

With a shudder, she sipped enough to coat her tongue and hated how much she enjoyed the smoke-and-honey taste. As soon as she swallowed, the tea shop disappeared.

As long as the Bonners had been in Yarrow, it had been a bourbon town. But in 1982, people no longer wanted to drink what their fathers and grandfathers drank. They wanted new things, empty things. Most of Yarrow depended on the distillery for their livelihood, but at this rate, in a few years Bonner’s would have to shut their doors, which was why, against my better judgment, I agreed to sit down with Sylvia and her husband while our children played in the yard.

I glanced out the window over the sink, reminded myself that I was doing this for them—for their future. My kids needed Yarrow just as much as every other person in this town. I wasn’t going to let the town go down without a fight.

Still, at twenty-nine years old, this shouldn’t have been my decision to make. But as the last remaining Haywood adult who had stayed in Yarrow, I was the only one who could make this decision.

“This really is the best thing for the town,” Sylvia said. “Can you imagine? Our bourbon mixed with your shadow magic? That could never lose out to vodka and blue curaçao.”

Christian Durant leaned across the table, hands splayed against the wood, knuckles white with the strain. My eyes flicked toward them. My heart stuttered, but I didn’t lean back.

I wouldn’t cower before this man.

I glanced at my attorney, Tim Stokes. My mother—may she rest in peace—had taught me not to trust the Bonners. The dog’s-bane and snapdragons in their auras always hinted at falsehood and deception, and whenever they wanted something enough, things seemed to go their way. It wasn’t natural. So I wasn’t about to lease away the land without a witness. No doubt Mom would haunt me until the day I died if anything went awry.

Tim cleared his throat.

“Just hurry up and sign,” Christian growled. “I’ve got a team waiting to clear that land.”

Sylvia rested a hand on his forearm. When he shook her off, she flinched.