Page 81 of Sigils & Spells

Thehide-itcharms were my spells. Created with the illusion magic I’d inherited from my mother, they could be placed on small items and render them invisible. How could something as small as ahide-itcharm cause a concussion?

A little steadier, I glanced around at the shoppers lurking nearby. A few shrugged. Others averted their eyes, moved away, and began whispering. Witches were terrible gossips. Word would spread through Kingston like wildfire about this dramatic scene.

A platinum-blonde witch in monochrome black attire with a silver hoop at the corner of her lower lip took a step toward me. She held a frosted-glass bottle of concealment lotion. A large, rectangular blood-red ruby dominating her left ring finger caught my eye.

I considered telling her that particular brand was excellent at covering a variety of blemishes. Given her perfect complexion perhaps she already knew about the lotion’s superior coverage. I offered a smile and asked, “May I help you?”

“No … I’m just looking. Thanks.”

Over by the feather bins, Colleen, a plump witch wearing a vibrant yellow caftan, waved her fingers at me and mouthed, “Love the shirt!” I would have taken it as a compliment but her smirk made me skeptical.

When I stepped behind the counter, a witch with sleek black cornrow braids that reached her waist said, “That’s what you get for selling spells willy-nilly.”

Scarlett gave me a wry smile as she bagged the dozen or so potions and spells the witch had purchased. She dipped her head toward me, and whispered, “That was intense.”

“Mmhmm.” My heart rate had almost returned to normal.

“You look amazing.”

“Thanks,” I murmured.

“It’s one thing selling a defensive hex to a healing arts witch, Marin,” the black-haired witch continued. “It’s quite another selling already activated spells to someone without a drop of magic in them.”

I’d heard this argument against selling magic to naturals before. It always amazed me that certain witches were fine buying ready-made spells for themselves but opposed naturals having access to the same.

Specific magic ran in family lines—healing, illusion, and elemental, to name a few. Because of twisty family trees, some witches could perform magic in a variety of areas, though with varying degrees of success. A few witches spent decades learning and refining magic beyond the ones they inherited. If you wanted access to magic outside your purview, you either bought or traded spells.

I didn’t respond. With a harrumph, she gathered up her bags and left.

When no one else approached the register, I asked Scarlett, “Any clue what our dissatisfied customer was talking about?”

“It’s the assassin game.” Scarlett leaned against the mahogany counter, the stiff nylon tutu around her hips rasped in protest. “It’s all the rage with the middle school kids.”

“What is it and why do I have a yoga mom threatening to turn me into the Council over it?”

“It’s a kids' game. There are teams. You’re assigned a hit. If you kill” –she made air quotes— “an opponent you get points. But you have to have physical proof of the kill. Seems our magic glitter and invisible ink are rated number one as means of proof. We’ve sold scads of it. Even the naturals are buying it.”

“And ahide-itspell was somehow used for a—hit?”

Scarlett nodded. “At first they used squirt guns. Now they’ve gotten more inventive. Your spell hid a water balloon positioned over a partially opened door. The unsuspecting victim walked through the door and boom!” Her hands flew up in an exploding gesture. “They died. I had a teenage girl in here earlier this week asking me if your spell would work on Vaseline. She planned on poisoning her target by spreading it on the door handle. She’d bound her own illusion spell to the Vaseline so it would stain the victim’s skin blood-red. She came back yesterday to buy more charms. Said it worked perfectly.”

I couldn’t visualize how that would work, but I wasn’t going to ask. “Why am I just hearing about this now?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. We have kids in here all the time. Haven’t you noticed we can barely keep magic glitter on the shelves?”

Her gaze drifted past me and she jerked, standing ramrod straight. My heart skipped. I turned, half expecting to see yoga mom. Instead, Vixen and the platinum blonde walked up to the register. I sighed in relief.

Vixen had her hair up in a casually messy bun. Fine scars and puncture marks in various stages of healing decorated her throat. Her perfume was an alluring combination of oranges, anise, and cloves.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” I asked.

She set two bottles of Rejuvenate, a popular energy potion created by Thea, a shapeshifter healer, and severalhide-itcharms on the counter. “I did.”

“Your perfume is lovely.”

Vixen’s shoulders tightened. She stared at me, as if unused to compliments. Finally, she said, “Thanks. It was a gift.”

Colleen joined the line as Scarlett finished ringing up the items.

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