Page 72 of The Cursed Fae

“Sorry,” I said. “You’re right. I’ve been shitty. I haven’t wanted to say the wrong thing.”

It was all true. I had been afraid I would blurt out something suspicious and break my promise to Missy.

“I get it. I’m the dead caster’s girlfriend. It’s weird.” Undisguised bitterness sharpened her words.

“No. No. It’s not weird.” I shook my head. “I’ve never lost someone close to me, but I wouldn’t want some girl I didn’t know all up in my mourning period.”

“Actually, having you around is nice. You’re the only person who doesn’t give me that look—both kind and suspicious. Like they pity me but are also judging me for dating a caster.”

I had no idea what to say. Supernatural politics baffled me, and none more so than the fae’s superiority complex toward casters. Both groups used magic, so why was it such a big deal?

“The memorial is this weekend. It’ll get easier after I have some closure,” Morgan continued. A ghost of a grin crossed her lips as her mind wandered into a memory.

“I’m sure it will,” I agreed softly.

Tears filled Morgan’s eyes, though the smile never left her face. There was also a hint of something that was neither joy nor anguish. Unrest was the best word I could come up with. Pulling on that thread seemed like a dick move.

Morgan wiped her cheeks. “Too much sadness for so early in the day. There will be plenty of time for tears on Sunday. I should fix my makeup before the bell. I’ll see you later.”

I let her go with a parting wave, wishing I could help ease her suffering. When I talked to Missy again, I could tactfully suggest telling Morgan that I was in contact with her deceased girlfriend. Not that my last interaction with the spirit had gone smashingly, but it might offer some comfort. Thinking about the conversation with Missy the night before, my brain detoured from Morgan’s anguish.

What was Missy’s deal with Archer? Did she simply not like him? Or did she know something more about my attic-dwelling buddy? I still planned to attend our magic lesson this evening. Learning to use my powers was important, even if my instructor was a little sketchy.

The day flew by in a blur of lectures and two pop quizzes that definitely didn’t go my way. I was grumpy and starving when I met Laz for our independent study.

The second step of the summoning required bathing the herb concoction in the light of a three-quarter moon, which Laz had done the night before. Part of the reason he’d selected this spell was the timing. He said there was another that had less lead up work, but it needed Venus to be in retrograde, which wouldn’t happen again until late October.

The third step called for us to wash the mixture in magic. My magic. There were no words to chant. Just a transfer of energy to complete. I had to concentrate so hard that I couldn’t have spoken if I’d wanted to. My vision darkened as I concentrated on the pile in the stone bowl. The harder I stared at it, the less the outside world mattered. Even Laz’s handsome and encouraging face faded away.

I didn’t think about my eternal stalker, and whether he’d hurt Lena. Missy’s warnings about Archer fled my mind. The reason for the summoning spell no longer seemed to matter. I fell into a trance, just me and the magic.

Laz placed a hand on my shoulder to break my focus. I blinked as he held his phone screen up and pointed to the time. Our lesson had ended thirty minutes prior.

“You okay?” he asked. His voice was soft, like he feared startling me.

The casting left me seeing spots. “A little woozy,” I admitted.

I straightened my spine and rolled my neck to loosen the cramped muscles. Laz produced a candy bar from his backpack.

“This should help replenish the calories,” he said, handing me the treat. “Next time, eat a bigger lunch.”

I tore into the wrapping and devoured half the chocolaty goodness before his words registered. “Next time? Wasn’t this the last step before performing the actual spell?”

“The casting is going to be far more strenuous than the prep work,” he countered. “Don’t look so scared. You’ll be fine. I’ll be with you the entire way. I will help—”

“So, I’ve been thinking about this,” I interrupted him. “And I want to try this alone.”

Laz’s eyebrows drew together. “This is for my initiation,” he pointed out.

I shoved the rest of the candy bar in my mouth and chewed while I considered my next words. “Yeah, I know. It’s... I would rather not have you watch me while I’m talking to myself. That’s just weird.” It was the truth, though not the primary reason I wanted to do it by myself. The lame excuse rang hollow in my ears.

“I’ve seen worse. Talking to yourself is Witchcraft 101,” he promised.

Hmm. How to get out of this one? Laz was determined to be by my side. If I’d been as resolved, I might’ve been able to conjure up a better lie. But, truthfully, I was a little nervous about doing the spell on my own when using magic left me so exhausted. It always seemed to replenish within a few hours, usually with the aid of sugar. Still...

Would it really be so bad to have him there? Laz was friends with Ray. His presence might help me reach the dead boy. Like a totem or talisman to bolster the magic.

Don’t get ahead of yourself. Learn the difference between the two first.

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