Magic runs in Carlie McEwan's blood, literally. In the tiny town of Halfway, deep in the Adirondack mountains, Carlie carries on the family tradition, never coming right out and saying she's a witch, but accepting the letters asking for help from the townfolk - as long as the envelope and paper is handmade and plain and the ink from the forest or natural world, and they must mean no harm.
When she's not helping people with beneficial spells, Carlie makes the world's best waffles and kills things that go bump in the night, like a Wendigo.
When Carlie is approached by a stranger looking for a guide into the woods, her first instinct is to say no. Until she's shown the picture of a half circle of American chestnut trees, a variety thought to be extinct. That's not what holds Carlie's interest. There's something about that half circle. Something familiar about the tumble of stones behind it.
And it's Carlie's gran who knows why. It's an old family story, one past due to be wrapped up.
The magic in Halfway Dead is more in line with the natural world. Enough so that I was surprised when a vampire turned up with talk of werewolves and shifters. The forest teems with a full compliment of fae and that forest is every bit as much a character as the people in the story.
There was a potential bad guy and a string of murders that are mentioned, but never develop into anything Carlie has to worry about. The end of the story comes quickly and gives us a peek at what the direction the next book might take. Shifters, a missing girl, and an amorous vampire - oh my!
This is the fourth book I've read by this author. Halfway is my favorite. I look forward to the next book in this series.