Page 45 of Bewicched

“Someone did this to her. Mom, Gran, and I are working on it. Don’t do anything, okay?”

Tilting his head, he studied me. “You took your spot on the Council?”

I nodded. “Don’t confide in anyone. We don’t know who the sorcerer is.”

His brow furrowed. “But then why did you tell me?”

I kissed him on the cheek. “Because if there’s one thing I know in this world, it’s that neither you nor Aunt Sylvia would ever turn to black magic, let alone sorcery.”

He patted my back. “Well, that’s something anyway.” When I started to move away, he caught my hand. “You’ll tell me, won’t you? When you know?”

“I will. In the meantime, though, talk to her. Remind her of your lives together. Tell her how much you love her. She’s got a lot of hurtful words circling in her head right now. You need to drown them out with true words of devotion.”

He squeezed my hand and then let it drop. Pulling up a chair, he sat down and took her hand, holding it against his lips. “I was just thinking about the time we met,” he murmured. “Do you remember that?”

While he reminded Sylvia of their lives together, I made my way to the door, happy when I reached the handle without tipping over. Happier still that Declan was there when I opened the door.

“Good job,” he murmured. “Hold on and we’ll get you out of here.”

I didn’t know where Mom and Cal were, but Sylvia was covered and I needed to get home and crawl into a soft bed in a dark and quiet studio.

20

You Might Want to Look Away

The drive was thankfully quick and uneventful. I kept my eyes closed. Monterey’s weather was mild year-round, but the May sun was still bright. Declan loaned me his sunglasses, which helped.

“Declan!” The shout came from the gallery steps as soon as Declan turned off the truck’s engine. “Where have you—oh, Ms. Corey.”

I squinted my eyes open and found Juan. “Sorry. I got hurt and called him for a ride. It’s my fault he wasn’t here.”

“Oh, okay. I’m glad he was able to help you.”

There was a charged silence between the men and then Declan said, “Let me get her inside and then I’ll get back to work. I can stay until the sun goes down.” He walked me to the front door.

Juan followed us. “Yeah, okay. You’re doing a good job back there, but we’re concerned about timing.”

“Understood.”

“We’re taking off now. We’ll see you tomorrow,” Juan said. “And I hope you’re feeling better soon, Ms. Corey.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Once we’d entered the gallery, the pounding in my head lessened.

Declan kicked the door closed and then picked me up.

“I’m okay. I can walk.” But this was nice.

“I know you can, but no one’s watching and you’re still unsteady. I don’t want you falling down your stairs when you start tipping to the left again.”

He juggled me to open the studio door and then he was taking the stairs two at a time up to my loft. I’d expected him to just drop me on the bed, but he was incredibly gentle, laying me down and then pulling off my sneakers. When I rolled to the side, he flipped my comforter over to cover me.

“I’ll close your shutters. It’ll help with light and sound.”

“Thanks,” I said, burrowing in. “Oh, can you make sure the front door is locked?”

“You bet,” he replied, jogging down the stairs.

I hadn’t expected to fall asleep, not with my head pounding and Declan hammering, but I did.

---