I named my bird Osborne after Sarah Osborne, one of the first women accused of witchcraft in Salem. She’d challenged the inheritance system, trying to claim her late husband’s land for herself. For that she was dragged into a courtroom and branded a witch.

  I toss the empty bowl into the sink with a loud clang. Osborne startles, raising her feathers like she might fly off, then settles.

  I walk to the window and stare out into the dusky light, my thoughts drifting. Maybe I should look more into the goddesses Gina mentioned. My thesis already focuses on how the Salem Witch Trials and today’s reproductive rights debates both use fear to control women. History really does repeat itself. Same tactics, just different headlines.

  It can’t hurt to explore what came before the patriarchy rewrote the stories, right?

  I pick up my phone, search for a picture of Hekate, and swap out my background. No more photo of Mom. Just the Queen of Witches now. No more invasive questions from strangers looking for a date.

  2

  ARYA

  Sunday October 26, 2025

  My eyes flutter open. It’s still dark out. I shut off my alarm and get out of bed then pull on my workout clothes. I’ll hit the hotel gym, clear out my inbox, then do one final read-through of the finance report over breakfast before meeting the car outside the conference centre at seven. A handful of us are heading to Salem for a day trip.

  I check my phone to confirm the plan. No surprise meetings. Perfect. Ben confirmed my reservation at the Salem Inn, thank God. While most people are being taken straight to the airport after the tour, I’m staying the whole week. I don’t know why, but I’ve always wanted to visit Salem. So, I’m finally making it happen.

  Besides, my boss practically shoved me out the door to use my vacation time this year. Probably because my contract guarantees I get cashed out for unused days after a certain point, and that deadline hits at the end of 2025.

  This conference happened to be in Boston and wrapped up last night, so why not stay a little longer? Spend my twenty-seventh birthday somewhere I’ve wanted to go since I was a kid.

  A few hours later, I take one last look in the mirror before heading down to the lobby. My tan pants and chocolate-striped button-up, pair well with my brown loafers and matching belt. My pin-straight black lob is tied into a low ponytail, and I’ve kept my makeup minimal. I’m only wearing small gold hoops, a bangle, and my Scorpio diamond pendant to bring out my golden-brown eyes.

  Outside, the crisp autumn air greets me as I roll my suitcase through the front doors of the hotel. I hold my double-breasted black wool coat closed with one hand. The sedan limo is already waiting. The driver steps forward to open the door and takes my suitcase, leaving me with just my purse.

  That new car smell fills my senses. A young woman, around my age, is already seated inside, typing on a laptop perched on her knees. Her textured blonde pixie cut is held back by a black workout headband, and she’s dressed like she’s heading out for a hike. She glances up and smiles. Even behind her glasses, her honey-colored eyes are striking.

  “Hi. I’m Maria. First-year resident at Vancouver General Hospital,” she says, offering her hand. Her mouth drops for an instant as we make eye contact then closes up again. Have I met her before? Maybe at another conference? She seems so familiar.

  “Arya. I’m a Strategic Partnership Lead at GeneNova, a company focused on advancing genetic genealogy.”

  “Ah. So you’re the reason everyone thinks spitting in a tube will tell them their life story,” she laughs.

  I’ve heard this kind of skepticism before. I smile and take the seat across from her.

  “It’s a fair reaction. But it’s not about fortune-telling, it’s about connection. Genetic genealogy can uncover ancestral origins, hereditary traits, even potential health risks. And sometimes, it helps people find family they didn’t know they had.”

  “So it’s part science, part soap opera?”

  “Exactly,” I grin. “Some of the most interesting cases we’ve started with someone just curious about their roots. Then, bam, long-lost siblings, biological parents, or whole branches of family trees revealed. It’s wild.”

  She nods, intrigued despite herself. “And you work with all the big databases?”

  “We partner with a few, yeah. But our main edge is accuracy and interpretation. Raw data is just numbers. The real value is in helping people make sense of it, connecting the dots.”

  The door opens and two more passengers join us: Dr. Emily Trout, the conference keynote speaker and a renowned neuropsychologist, and Andrea Scott, a general surgeon from Vancouver. I met her during one of the networking events. If I had to guess, probably Maria’s supervisor. It’s actually kinda strange that I never ran into Maria during the conference.

  We exchange morning pleasantries as the driver pulls away. The conversation about DNA, left unfinished.

  * * *

  The car pulls onto a side street, stopping beside what looks like a funeral home. According to the itinerary, we’re starting with a private tour of the Witch House before a haunted walk. I’m the last one out of the car and turn to the driver.

  “Around three, I’ll need to grab my suitcase from the trunk. I’m not going to the airport.”

  “How about I meet you back here?”

  “Me too,” Maria says, stepping beside me.

  “You’re staying in Salem?”

  “Yeah. Taking some vacation while my daughter’s at Disney with her dad and his new girlfriend.”

  “Oh.”

  “She’s barely six, she won’t remember any of it, but whatever.” Maria shrugs.

  “Yeah.” I’m not sure what to say. I haven’t been around kids since I was one.

  She exhales. “I’ve always wanted to visit Salem. Ever since I was little. Just always felt so far.”

  “I get that. Total other coast.”

  Dr. Scott walks up. “We should hurry. The Witch House tour starts at eight—it’s just up the main street.”

  “Yes, of course,” Maria replies.

  I turn to the driver. “So we’ll see you here at three?”

  He nods.

  “Thank you so much.”

  “Have fun today, ladies.” He gets into the car and drives off.

  Maria and I walk together while Dr. Scott and Dr. Trout lead a few steps ahead.

  “So, you finished med school while raising a baby? That’s impressive.”

  “It was during undergrad. I was almost twenty-one when I had her. First one-night stand turned into forever.”

  “Still impressive.”

  “I was lucky. My parents were really supportive. My mom basically hit pause on her life to help me finish school.” She smiles.

  “That’s amazing.”

  “She’s incredible. She’s leading a research expedition up north now. My dad’s with her. They are both scientists, studying the polar ice caps.” She bites her lower lip. “I miss them so much.”

  “You can’t call?”

  “Not a lot of Wi-Fi where they’re at.” She laughs.

  I nod, then shift the subject. “Where are you staying?”

  “Airbnb near the water. You?”

  “Salem Inn.” I pause. “We should get together, we’re both here solo. Could be fun to explore with someone.”

  “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

  We reach the corner lot. A black wooden building with steep gables looms ahead. There’s a woman out front in a black T-shirt and jean overalls, bright red hair, piercings, tattoos on both arms. She looks like she had a rough night. I don’t know why, but she seems familiar.

  “Oh look! The Witch House sign.” Dr. Trout points to a wooden sign hanging on chains. She and the others head toward it. I hang back.

  “Good morning. Do you work here?” I ask the redhead.

  She looks up, eyes bloodshot. “Me? No. I’ve got a booth at the artisan market. Just here for the tour.”

  She has an accent. Maybe French?

  “Got it.”

  “You’re a Scorpio?”

  “What?”

  She points to my necklace. “Your pendant. Scorpio symbol.”

  I glance down. “Forgot I was wearing this. My mom gave it to me. Figured it was appropriately witchy.”

  “I’m a Scorpio too. When’s your birthday?”

  Before I can answer, a young woman with long wavy hair and a modern wool witch hat appears in the doorway.

  “Gina! You made it!”

  The redhead smiles weakly. “Barely.”

  The other woman steps out in a black lace top, ripped jeans, and Doc Martens. “Hit the party scene last night?”

  “Of course. Kinda regretting it now.” Gina stares down at her Timberlands.

  The woman in the hat laughs. “Well, I’m glad you made it.” She turns to me, extending her hand. She smells fresh, like bergamot. “Hi, I’m Jane. Welcome to the Witch House. Are you the private tour group?”

  “I’m just one of us,” I say. “The others are getting photos.”

  “Very important. We keep the front Insta-worthy this time of year. Pumpkins, haystacks, all the fall vibes.”

  “I’ll go get them.”

  “No need. We’ve got an hour and it’s a small place. Want me to take your picture by the sign?”

  “I’ll get it later.”

  “You sure? Streets get packed. Might be a line later.”

  I exhale. “Okay, sure.”

  “Gina, you coming? I can take your picture too.”

  “Sure.”

  The three of us walk toward the sign.

  “Where are you from?” Jane asks.

  “Toronto.”

  “You’re Canadian?”

  I nod.

  “She’s Canadian,” Jane says to Gina.

  “I’m from Nova Scotia. Gina’s from Montréal. What are the odds?”

  “Pretty good,” I respond. “We’re near Boston, not a jungle in Brazil.”

  “Fair.” Jane shrugs.

  Maria is snapping a photo of the doctors in front of the big black door. The house is made of aged wood, nearly black, with three steep roof peaks. Ornate windows, haystacks, pumpkins, a gorgeous fall wreath. My chest warms as I take it in. A smile creeps across my face. I’ve only ever seen this place in pictures. And now, I’m finally here. I just wish my sister was here to see it.

  “Hello!” Jane waves to the others.

  Dr. Trout eyes us, confused. “Hello.”

  “I’m Jane. I’ll be leading your Witch House tour.”

  Dr. Trout stares between the four of us. “Are you all related? You look like sisters.”

  We glance at each other, confused.

  “We just met,” Maria responds.

  “That’s uncanny,” Dr. Scott says, stepping closer. “I need a picture. Stand in front of the sign.”

  She gestures for Maria’s phone. “Smile.”

  The four of us pose. I rest a hand on my hip, Maria flashes a heart with her fingers, Jane throws up a peace sign, and Gina goes full rock-and-roll. As she lifts her hand, I catch a glimpse of a birthmark on her wrist, one that looks exactly like mine. What a coincidence.

  “Shall we start the tour?” Jane claps her hands together.

  * * *

  We filter back into the front hall of the Witch House from the kitchen.

  “Thank you for visiting. Feel free to browse the gift shop. I’ll be happy to ring you through,” Jane says, gesturing toward the small lobby we passed at the start of the tour.

  Dr. Scott and Dr. Trout head that way, but the rest of us linger by the fireplace.

  “You around tomorrow, JJ? It’s my birthday and I was thinking karaoke or something,” Gina says.

  “No way. Tomorrow’s my birthday too,” Jane replies, her eyes wide.

  Maria gasps. “Okay, this is getting creepy. Mine’s tomorrow too.”

  All three turn toward me, their matching yellow-honey eyes locked on mine.

  “Yes… mine too,” I admit. “It’s actually my golden birthday. I’m turning twenty-seven on the twenty-seventh.”

  “Shut up,” Gina says, covering her mouth.

  “There is no way,” I almost whisper.

  “What are the odds?” Jane says, wide-eyed.

  “Roughly, one in three trillion,” Maria replies.

  “Actually?” Gina laughs.

  “Yes. I did the math,” Maria shrugs.

  “In your head?” I practically shriek.

  The room suddenly freezes. We can see our breath. We all look at each other, stunned.

  “We have nexus!” A woman’s voice echoes through the room “The prophecy is finally upon us!” A chilling laughter.

  Gina bolts toward the gift shop. I chase after her.

  The four of us spill outside, breathless. A small crowd has gathered in line waiting for the museum to open, watching us.

  I offer a nervous smile. “So… that was weird.”

  “No kidding,” Gina mutters.

  “Listen,” Jane says, catching her breath, “why don’t we meet for a joint birthday brunch tomorrow? There’s clearly something going on here. We should study it.”

  “Four strangers with the same birthday and similar features? That’s a pattern, not a coincidence,” I add, not to mention our matching birth marks. I haven’t brought that up yet. I’m still trying to process it myself.

  “Scientifically speaking, the odds of this happening are miniscule,” Maria adds. “I agree. We need to investigate.”

  “What about the fucking ghost?” Gina exclaims.

  “You saw a ghost?” someone in line asks.

  Gina nods.

  “I can book us a spot at the café by the Bewitched statue,” Jane offers.

  “Yeah, okay,” I cross my arms in front of my chest.

  “What time?” Maria asks.

  “I’ll message you. Are you all on WhatsApp?”

  We nod and pull out our phones.

  “Oh, I can send you the picture of us that way too.” Maria adds.

  Dr. Trout pops her head out the door. “Jane, dear? I was hoping to make a purchase.”

  “I’ll be right in,” Jane calls back.

  3

  MARIA

  Monday October 27, 2025

  My phone rings. I put on my glasses then pick it up from the nightstand. It’s Mia. I know she’s only six, but I wanted her to feel like she could contact me anytime. I answer the video call, laying back in bed.

  “Good morning, sweetheart!” I smile.

  “Happy Birthday, Mommy!” Her blonde wavy hair bounces in two pigtails as she blows me a kiss. I pretend to catch it and place it on my cheek.

  “Thank you, sweetie. What do you have planned for today?”

  “Daddy and Stacy are taking me to Animal Kingdom.”

  My breath catches in my throat. Pain rushes through my chest and down into the pit of my stomach. I can’t believe I’m missing this. I force a smile.

  “That sounds like fun. Make sure you take lots of pictures. I want to see them all when you get back from your trip.”

  She gives a thumbs up. “Okay. What are you doing for your birthday, Mommy?”

  “I actually made some new friends here in Salem. I’m going to hang out with them. Maybe walk around a bit. See if I can find some witchy women.”

  “No, Mommy. You be careful. Witches are scary.” She pouts.

  I smile. “That’s just Hollywood propaganda, sweetie.”

  “Pro-po-what?” She tilts her head, confused.

  “Witches aren’t scary. They just knew how to take care of themselves and other people. A lot of the time, they were healers.”

  “Like you, Mommy?”

  “Yeah, kinda like me. They weren’t doctors, but they knew how to help bring babies into the world or soothe a common cold.”

  “Are you a witch, Mommy?”

  I throw my head back and chuckle. “No sweetie, I’m not a witch.”

  “Who are you talking to?” I hear a deep voice in the background.

  She looks off-camera. “Mommy.”

  “All right, we’re leaving in five minutes, baby girl. Tell Mommy bye-bye.”

  I glance at the time—it’s almost 7:30 in the morning. “Okay, Daddy,” Mia nods.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll chat with you later. Have so much fun at Animal Kingdom.”

  “I miss you, Mommy.” Mia frowns, looking down.

  My heart aches. All I want to do is scoop her up in my arms. “I miss you too, sweetie, but I’ll see you before you know it. You’re going to have a blast today. Enjoy every moment, okay?”

  She nods slowly, a smile forming across her face. “Okay.”

  “Promise?” I ask.

  “I promise.” She grins.

  “I love you so much.” I blow her a kiss.

  “Love you too, Mommy.” She blows one back.

  “Okay, go have fun. We’ll chat again soon.”

  “Okay. Bye-bye.” The screen goes blank.

  Being away from my baby doesn’t get easier with time, but at least she’s got a present dad. He’s an engineer. He loves her dearly. He’s always been devoted to Mia. We were basically strangers when I got pregnant. We tried to make it work but we were like oil and water. He was basically a robot who didn’t understand emotions. And me? I’m all emotion. Sure, it sucks that he moved on less than a month after I moved out, but he’s a devoted dad. That’s all that matters.

  I throw the blankets off and go to the bathroom to splash my face with cold water. Back in the bedroom, the morning light fills the room with a calm, golden glow. This Airbnb is on the top floor of a heritage house near the water. I can see the ocean in the distance out the window. I complete a couple of rounds of Salute the Sun, part of my morning yoga routine, and let the warmth of the rays settle on my face.

  Breathe in. One. Two. Three. And out. One. Two. Three.

  There. Feeling much better.

  In the kitchen, I start the kettle for green tea, pour a bowl of granola with yogurt and blueberries, and sit at the table where I left my laptop charging. I check my email. Right at the top of my inbox is a message from my parents. The subject line reads: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

 

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