Mayfair Witches is a wild supernatural drama set in London. It’s all about a family of witches. They juggle magic and protect their city from dark forces. Expect mystery, suspense and lots of action. It keeps you on edge, wondering what will happen next. So grab some popcorn and get ready for a spellbinding ride!

Meet the characters from Mayfair Witches

Cortland Mayfair

Cortland is the old-school nucleus of the Mayfair brood — that charming, quietly tyrannical patriarch who thinks tradition is a religion and cocktails are a sacrament. He’s velvet-gloved control freakery mixed with genuine, if twisted, protectiveness; sometimes he feels like a kindly uncle and other times like a chessmaster who lost the map and is still smiling. He hoards family stories like expensive cigars, flirts with decadence (jazz at midnight, orchids that never die) and secretly sobs into his handkerchief when the world gets too loud — or did I make that up? Either way he runs the place, for better and worse, and you can almost hear the house creak his name.

Lasher

Lasher is that impossible, velvet-voiced thing that slithers around the edges of the Mayfairs — equal parts seduction, mischief and bone-deep menace. He says the sweetest things and then delights in watching them unpeel like onions, which is perhaps cruel but also—hmm—artistically committed? He has a laugh that smells oddly like rain-damp soil, whispers secrets into empty rooms, and will coax anyone into doing terrible, glorious things with a smile; you half-love him and half-want to run. He’s immortal so he’s leisurely about tragedy, and honestly, you suspect he keeps a tiny box of costume buttons for reasons he won’t explain.

Rowan Fielding

Rowan is the brilliant, impatient scientist who keeps trying to put a rational label on things that clearly refuse to be labeled — neurosurgeon/biologist/modern witch, take your pick, she’ll sigh and correct you. She’s fierce and loyal and really gets under your skin with a single, precise look; also she collects teacups and will duel someone verbally while sipping chamomile, very unfair. Rowan wants facts but keeps stumbling into family ghosts and impossible inheritances and somehow manages to be both ruthlessly pragmatic and romantically tragic, like a broken microscope that tells fortunes. Also, she hums sitcom theme songs in tense situations and I cannot explain how much I love that.

Carlotta Mayfair

Carlotta is the old house’s moral scaffolding — fierce, proper, and a little poisonous if you get on the wrong side of her. She is all prim corsets and sharp eyes but with an undercurrent of something that smells like burned sugar; loyal to the family and terrifyingly unforgiving when betrayed. She’ll run the servants with iron rules and then tuck a child into bed with the same hand, which is the whole headache and beauty of her: guardian and gaoler. Oh, and she always carries a sachet of cloves and tells fortunes by staring at the thread on a seam, apparently.

Ciprien Grieve

Ciprien is the cool, exasperated outsider — scholar, doctor, whatever label you want, he has that practical, tired intelligence and the kind of skepticism that makes him excellent at asking the wrong questions at the right time. He is dry, very dry, the kind of person who writes long footnotes in his head and drinks tea like it’s a research method, but secretly he keeps postcards from places he never visited. He’s the one who tries to hold the family narrative together with logic and tea towels and usually fails in an exquisitely human way, which makes him oddly lovable. Also he has a ridiculous collection of fountain pens and stubbornly refuses to throw them out, even though he loses them constantly.

Suzanne

Suzanne is wildfire in a floral dress — impulsive, hungry, heartbreakingly naive and smarter than she looks on a bad day. She flirts with danger like it’s a hobby and will turn tables upside down to see what clatters out, and she does it all with a grin that makes you forget to be angry at her for breaking things. Deep down she carries the ache of the family like an heirloom necklace, and she can be gentle and savage within the space of a single sentence — which is exhausting, in the best possible way. She hoards colorful scarves and speaks to stray cats like they’re policymakers, which, I swear, is canon in my heart.