Page 47 of Witch You Weren't Here

Harry pushed a hand through his hair and tugged it a little. ‘I think she meant well, but both my parents … they have such a responsibility. To Biddicote and all the witches that live there. They’re used to employing their magic in a way that … They’re looking at the big picture. For the greater good. And it didn’t always … gel with what I felt I needed from them.’

‘Like having their support for your career choice?’ Kay shifted on her seat, hating the way that he was deliberating over his words. Hating the way his shoulders were hunched in.

He attempted a laugh, but she knew it wasn’t genuine. His hand slipped to the back of his neck and squeezed. ‘That sort of thing, I guess. They just wanted me to understand and were trying to prepare me for what was to come, I think. Like schmoozing with the Witches Council. It’s not my favourite.’

‘So they used their gifts to make you do it anyway?’

Harry exhaled slowly from his mouth. ‘It’s complicated.’ He shook his head, all the humour of their banter having evaporated. ‘Families, eh? D’you mind if we talk about something else?’

‘Of course,’ she murmured and then Leon came back over and saved her from dropping her face into her bowl and trying to drown herself in the leftover gravy for her unfailing ability to make things awkward again.

Harry shook off his mood almost immediately as Leon proceeded to ask him if he would complete a mural with runes that a local artist had left unfinished because he got a chance to exhibit at some fancy museum in Paris.

‘That sounds a bit out of my area,’ Harry objected. Rune magic was a complicated matter; the smallest deviations in design, intention or magical infusion caused big differences in their effects. They tapped into something ancient and drew a lot of energy.

‘It’s not. At all. They’re not tricky runes. Very simple. He was the one that didn’t really want to do it. It wasn’t his thing and he’s not done the greatest job with what little there is. I’ve had to cover it up because it’s unsettling, left half-done.’

‘What is it?’ Harry asked.

‘I actually spoke to you about it before, remember? It’s a tree, over there by the stage.’

‘Oh, yeah. Infused to do what again?’

‘To encourage kindness. We have these poetry slams and guest musicians in sometimes and I just want to discourage hecklers. But the witch I had work on it – well, you’ll understand when you look at it. Come over.’

When Kay stayed sitting, Leon made it clear he was inviting her too. He led them over to the stage and lifted a swathe of green velvet that had been tacked at door height on the right hand of the stage, where it would be visible to everyone. Beneath was the outline of a tree, in hyper-stylised lines of silver paint, limbs reaching out like fingers, curled subtly into rune shapes. Immediately, Kay felt a grip in her gut of shame.

Independent to the slow build-up she’d been experiencing over the last day, that was.

‘Ugh,’ Harry said and then coughed. ‘Sorry – it was clearly going to be a beautiful tree; I’m not being critical of the art.’

‘You can see my problem, though. It’s in no way conditional to you borrowing the car by the way. But can you fix it, Harry? Please?’

Harry chewed on his bottom lip and then reached out, running his fingers over the paint. Kay found herself mesmerised by the way he used just his index and middle finger, such a light touch, skimming over it, while his eyes followed the line intently.

Artist-porn. Was that a thing? No sex, just watching a beautiful man with long fingers and lots of talent be all intense and precise.

She blinked and forced herself to look away, finding Leon watching her. He smirked a little but didn’t say anything.

‘Yes,’ Harry said finally, dropping his hand, oblivious to the silent communication going on behind him. ‘If you have paints. And some turps.’

‘He left a bunch of stuff in the office. I’ll go dig it out. Thank you. I wish you could have come out to do it in the first place. Your magic is always beautiful.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Harry rubbed the back of his neck, still talking to Leon. ‘It’s difficult at the moment.’

‘Hush, hush. I know.’ Leon took Harry by the head, bending it down so he could plant a kiss on his forehead before he went off to the office.

What was difficult for Harry at the moment? Kay wanted to know, the way Leon knew.

There was a blush on Harry’s cheeks, but he was getting on with unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves. The rhythmic twist of his wrist as he folded back the material was hypnotic. ‘This won’t take long, I promise. About an hour.’

The truth was, she hadn’t even thought about the time or the ferry or the journey. She’d just been thinking that she couldn’t wait to see him at work on the mural.

And his forearms. She’d been thinking about those too. In detail. The lean, firm muscles, decorated with fair hair and freckles. She wanted to trace them with her fingertip like she was mapping constellations on his skin.

Making some kind of noise at him, which she hoped passed for calm and collected, she retreated to their booth in the corner to finish her drink and watched as Harry set to work once Leon brought the paints out. He started by getting the turps and mixing it in a bowl with a tablespoon of salt and fresh sage which Leon supplied from the kitchen. Then he took a rag and carefully scuffed it over the outline of the top of the tree, while whispering a charm – probably something similar to the cleansing spell she’d used just before. The paint faded some but didn’t get smeared or wiped away and then he started mixing his own paint.

With the comfortable seat, twinkly lights, warm, delicious food in her stomach and view of Harry, Kay was beginning to wish she could stay at Abracadabra’s for far longer than a few hours. She didn’t even need to worry about her magical mishaps so much – she was surrounded by witches. And when had the last one happened anyway?

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