A Spell for Change (eBook)

Nicole Jarvis (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025
480 Seiten
TITAN BOOKS (Verlag)
978-1-83541-238-1 (ISBN)

Infos

In this sumptuous, atmospheric historical fantasy set in post-World War One Appalachia, three outcasts with misunderstood magical gifts search for their place in the world while battling the dark forces that circle their community. Perfect for fans of Katherine Arden and Susanna Clarke. Kate Mayer has always been troubled by visions of the future. No matter what she does, her disturbing premonitions are always realized-often with terrible consequences. But Kate has a secret: swirling, romantic dreams of a strange boy, and a chance meeting in the woods. Oliver returned from the Great War disabled, disillusioned, and able to see the dead. Haunted by the death of his best friend and his traumatic memories of the trenches, Oliver realizes that his ability to communicate with spirits may offer the chance of closure he desperately seeks. Nora Jo's mother and grandmother were witches, but she has never nurtured her own power. Always an outsider, she has made a place for herself in the town as Chatuga's schoolteacher, clinging to the independence the job affords her. When her unorthodox ideas lead to her dismissal, salvation comes in the form of a witch from the mountains who offers her a magical apprenticeship. Yet as she begins to fall for another woman in town, her loyalties pull her in disparate directions. Rumours of a dark force stalking the town only push Kate, Oliver, and Nora Jo onwards in their quest to determine their own destinies. But there are powers in the world stronger and stranger than their own, and not all magic is used for good...

Nicole Jarvis writes speculative history novels. A graduate of Emory University with degrees in English and Italian, she lives in Georgia with her partner and works in marketing for Penguin Random House. She is the author of The Lights of Prague, A Portrait in Shadow, and A Spell for Change. Nicole loves musicals, pottery, and learning about strange histories. Instagram/X: @nicolejarvis.

Textauszug

Kate’s fingers flew over the strings, and the bow sang in her hand. Music soared from the fiddle cradled in her arms, wrapping the room in sound as the setting sun through the window warmed it with light.

She didn’t sing. She didn’t have to. The fiddle eagerly met her direction and called out the fast, joyous tune.

“Girls! Supper is ready!”

The spell broke, and Kate’s sisters scattered. Kate pulled the bow along the strings one last time, letting a note fade in the small room, then lifted her head. Carefully, she tucked the fiddle back into its beaten leather case. The case had taken endless damage over the years, first from her granddaddy, then her daddy, and now Kate herself, but the fiddle inside was polished to a warm glow, carefully tuned to perfection. When she closed the lid, the room felt dimmer around her. Playing her fiddle was the only time Kate truly lived in the moment, and she missed it immediately.

The smell from the kitchen finally hit her nose, and her stomach grumbled.

The rest of her sisters were gone, but the youngest, Mary Evelyn, was hesitating in front of a chair that had been knocked out of place during the mad sprint to the kitchen. Kate nudged it aside with her hip. “Stop leaving things in the walkway!” she shouted into the kitchen.

“Thanks,” Mary Evelyn said, readjusting her weight on the crutch under her arm. Below her cotton shift, one small leg stretched barefoot to the floor. There was no second. When she needed it, she wore a wooden prosthetic, but it was too much effort for home. It chafed, and Mary Evelyn complained the tan color was all wrong—her skin was the darkest in the family, blue-black in the dim light. “They always forget.”

“Just smack them next time,” Kate advised, ushering Mary Evelyn through the door ahead of her. As the eldest daughter, recently eighteen, Kate felt like half a mother sometimes.

A handful of simple dishes were set out on the heavy wooden table—crowder peas and meat from the kettle over the fireplace, cornbread still bubbling in its cast-iron pan—and the smells were rich and mouth-watering. Chairs crammed close around the table. Mama and Daddy sat at one end with Uncle Christopher beside them. Willamae, Betty, and Eileen had already taken the best spots. Kate let Mary Evelyn take the last decent seat. The remaining chair creaked under her weight and left her of a height with Mary Evelyn, the table nearly up to her chest.

Mama grabbed their attention with a sharp cough, and Daddy led the table in a prayer. Kate closed her eyes and rested her elbows on the table, though the height made them splay uncomfortably.

Daddy and Uncle Christopher didn’t have time to come home from the lumber mill for dinner, and breakfast was a sleepy affair, so supper was the family’s biggest gathering. The meal was raucous—Kate had to snatch the last bit of white meat from under Betty’s hand to place it on Mary Evelyn’s plate instead. When Betty whined, Kate chided, “You already had a piece—don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Mama and Daddy were having a quiet conversation with Uncle Christopher at the other end of the table, ignoring their bickering children with the skill only a parent could master. There was a tension among them that set Kate on edge.

Once everyone had finished eating, Mama looked down the table at the children. “Go on,” she said. “Go play somewhere.”

The kids left, only pausing long enough to drop their dishes in the wash bucket. Kate helped Mary Evelyn with hers and ushered her out of the door to the side yard. She watched her limp toward the other girls, then Kate shut the door behind her. She could hear the neighbor’s dog howling. The hound was more silver than black these days, and his howl was gratingly croaky. The sound seemed to echo through the quiet room.

Once her sisters were out of earshot, she turned back to her parents and uncle. “What’s going on?”

Mama sighed. “Kate, go keep your sisters busy. The adults are talking.”

“I’m an adult,” Kate pointed out. “I can help.”

Daddy said, “Listen to your mama. This ain’t your business.”

Kate pointed at Uncle Christopher, whose expression spoiled her parents’ poker faces. His brow was creased, and there was a dimple at the corner of his mouth like he’d swallowed a bitter secret. “Ain’t it? Something’s going on,” she said. “I just want to help. Just because I’m not married yet doesn’t mean I’m not grown.”

Mama and Daddy exchanged a glance. They could have entire conversations without moving an eyebrow.

Finally, Daddy waved her over. “Sit down if you insist, Georgia Kate.” Everyone else called her Kate, but Daddy always used the full name he’d given her.

Kate sat. The divide between the kids’ side and the adult side was invisible, but as firm as the state line. Standing, she was nearly as tall as Uncle Christopher, but all her height was in her legs. Sitting, she seemed nearly as short as Mama.

Uncle Christopher shrugged. “She’s right, you know. She’s a smart girl, and she needs to know this kind of thing.”

Mama rolled her eyes, looking just like Gramma Rae. “Fine, Kate. If you insist on being in grown-up business, you can stay, but you best tell me if you get overheated.”

Daddy folded his hands on the table. He looked older than she remembered, or maybe she just hadn’t looked at him closely enough recently. The lines by his eyes and mouth had deepened like furrows during planting season. His shaved head hid how much of his hair was silver now. The long hours he worked in the lumber mill up on Mount Osborne nipped at his vitality, and coming home to care for five daughters didn’t help. The bottom of the mountain had been stripped of the best wood for nearly thirty years, so the lumber teams were moving further and further up the mountain to search for the cherry, ash, and walnut that manufacturers needed.

“Georgia Kate,” Daddy said solemnly, “we’re moving.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“You heard him,” Mama said briskly. “We’re trying to figure out our plans.”

“And you weren’t going to tell me?” she asked. “Where are we going? Were you just going to pack up and hope I didn’t notice?”

“They’ve been giving me fewer hours at the mill.” Daddy sighed. “Every time I go in, they need me less and less. The new folks are getting all the jobs. They’re pushing me out.”

“The lumber mill can’t be your only option. Surely there’s something we can do. There’s more work here.”

“Only white folks can work in the gristmill,” Mama said.

As though Kate would be fool enough to suggest Daddy apply to work for the Chadwicks. She opened her mouth to suggest the coal mines deeper in the mountains—then closed it again. She had seen what happened to the men who went underground. Nothing withered a man quicker inside and out than the mines.

Mama sighed. “There’ll be more opportunities in the city.”

“The city?” Kate repeated, horrified. “Which city?”

Uncle Christopher spoke up. “I have a friend in Nashville. There’s an automobile factory opening in July that’ll be looking for workers. My friend’s apartment building always has some units for rent.”

“Nashville?” Kate felt like a broken record, repeating unfathomable words. Nashville was far. By train, it would take eight hours. Would they even be able to afford tickets? She turned to Daddy. “You’ve always said Chatuga’s our home.”

“People move,” Mama said, gentler than Kate had expected. “Things change, Kate. We’ve got to go with the times.”

“But it’s not fair. These people shouldn’t be able to come into our town and push us out. This is our home too. What else can I do? I’ll work more hours, find a new client to replace the Addisons.” Kate had been doing odd jobs since she was ten and had realized she could make a dime by hauling water every day for their neighbors. The richer folk in town had water pumps inside their homes, but Kate’s neighborhood, Tolbert-Vance, relied on the well. From there, she’d found a series of odd jobs: doing laundry, delivering vegetables, cleaning windows, and anything else that would bring in money.

But apparently it wasn’t enough.

“I could help on the land, if that would be better,” Kate said. One hand stayed on the table, but the other found its way into the pocket of her dress. Her thumb rubbed over the smooth surface of her wolf fang. She’d learned the hard way to avoid its sharp end, filed to a vicious point by her uncle, and instead rubbed the smooth edges. It was a familiar texture, but the comfort felt hollow. “We could finally get the cows we’ve been talking about.”

“You need money to buy cows,” Mama said.

“They pay for themselves. That’s what everyone says.”

“They pay for themselves once you have them,” she retorted. “I’m busy enough with sewing and the garden, and I don’t need more mouths to feed. We’ve made our decision. We’re moving to Nashville.”

“We can’t give up. Chatuga is our home, the kids’ home.” Kate gestured toward the closed door, where her sisters naively played on.

“Georgia Kate Mayer,” Mama snapped. Kate’s jaw clicked closed, and she clenched her teeth. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“It should be a hard decision,” she pointed out. “You’re uprooting us for a city that doesn’t want...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 6.5.2025
• Verlagsort: London
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Fantasy
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• Schlagworte: 1910s fantasy • 1920s fantasy • Appalachia • Appalachian fantasy • BIPOC • BIPOC romance • Dark Fantasy • Demons • Fantasy • Fantasy Romance • Ghosts • Historical Fantasy • interracial romance • lesbian romance • LGBT+ • Magic • mediums • Psychics • queer romance • sapphic romance • SEANCES • Small Town • Sorcery • Tennessee • Twenties fantasy • USA • Witchcraft • Witches • World War One • WW1
• ISBN-10: 1-83541-238-6 / 1835412386
• ISBN-13: 978-1-83541-238-1 / 9781835412381