December 18, Wednesday

"CURTIS HAS completely unraveled," Bruce crowed through my phone. "Have you seen his latest posts? He looks insane, ranting about witchcraft and curses."

I sank into Rose's window seat, relief flooding through me. "So the publisher believes me now?"

"Darling, everyone believes you. Curtis has thoroughly discredited himself. The VP of Editorial actually called me personally to apologize for ever doubting you." Bruce's voice dripped satisfaction. "Your new book is being fast-tracked. We're looking at a March release."

"That's... amazing." I watched Satan chase the black rooster around the yard, feeling lighter than I had in months.

"The marketing team wants to capitalize on all this publicity. They're thinking of using 'Some kinds of magic can't be faked' as the tagline. What do you think?"

I thought of Sawyer's innocent smile when he'd mentioned Curtis's "hair troubles," of the missing bracelet and the full moon. "Hm… maybe something else."

"Fine, fine. But listen – Curtis's social media numbers are plummeting. His 'entrepreneurship coaching' business is tanking."

"Couldn't happen to a nicer guy," I murmured.

"The best part? His lawyers contacted us this morning. They're dropping all claims about him writing your books. Said something about their client being 'unreliable.'" Bruce chuckled. "I guess even they couldn't stomach his witch-hunt narrative."

I closed my eyes, savoring the moment. "So it's really over?"

"It's over. You're free and clear. And your new ending? Lady Kate finding her own power, choosing her own path – it's exactly what this moment needs."

"Thanks, Bruce."

"Don't thank me. Just keep writing. And maybe stay away from charming con men?"

I smiled, thinking of Sawyer. "Don't worry. My tastes have… matured."

After we hung up, I sat watching the winter sunlight play across the graveyard. Had it only been six months since I'd come to Irving running from Curtis's betrayal, from public humiliation, from my own broken trust? It seemed so much longer.

I texted Sawyer. Good news—my career is safe.

Hurray! Celebration dinner tonight? I'll cook.

I smiled. Your place or mine?

Yours. Satan misses me.

I laughed, knowing the goat probably did miss him, just like every other creature in Irving that had succumbed to Sawyer's particular brand of magic.

Including me.