Page 15 of Raising the Sun

So, what else was there?

Forehead still moulded to the leather wheel, I peeled my eyes open—as if a glimpse of the footwell would help me think better—and shifted my head from side to side, evening out the indent I no doubt had across my brow. It wasn’t until the fourth neck crick that I started questioning my life choices, and suddenly, it dawned on me how I’d even found myself here in the first place.

The thought hit me like lightning, the source of my issue smacking me square in the face.

Sitting up with a start, I flipped down the sun visor and fished out the card I’d stuffed into the thin pocket there yesterday. The card with The Magic Shop’s address. The unassuming slip of paper I’d been given just in case I decided to grit my teeth and seek help.

By my brother.

Of course. He was the one who’d introduced me to this circus in the beginning, so maybe he could do it again?

Decision made, I wrestled my phone from my pocket, unlocked it and tapped the only number in my favourites. It rang three times before connecting.

“Alright, mate,” Wayne answered, his cheery voice tinged with surprise. “You missing me already?”

“Wayne.”

There was a pause, then a soft curse came through the speaker, followed by a sheepish, “What’s up?”

“That wizard you sent me to…” I waited to let him catch up. “How do I get a hold of him once his shop disappears into outer space?”

“Oh, er…” There was a nervous laugh. “You can’t? Apparently, he only pops up to help whoever needs him, then he leaves. That’s kind of his whole thing. Didn’t I tell you that?”

I let my head drop back against the headrest and closed my eyes, regretting not having had the presence of mind to come away with a debilitating spell of some sort. Then we’d both be suffering at the expense of my downfall. “Nope, you failed to mention that part. Oranypart, actually.”

I wasn’t mad. Not really. It wasn’t Wayne’s fault I hadn’t bothered to ask questions. I’d been too busy scoffing at the possibility of ending up at some back-alley organ harvester to fully absorb all the specifics.

In hindsight, would the loss of my vital organs have been preferred?

“Soooo,” he said into the silence. “You actually went to him, then? What’d he say?”

“Oh, nothing much.” I responded with the appropriate amount of sarcasm. “Gave me a spell and said I had to learn a lesson before all my dreams could come true. ‘Don’t trust weirdos in pop-up shops’ probably wasn’t what he meant, but it’s what I’m taking from it.”

“Did you do the spell?” my brother asked, as if that were a perfectly reasonable question. It tore a short laugh from me.

“Are you serious? Why is this whole situation not completely bonkers to you?”

“Maybe because I’m open-minded, and I believe that magic isn’t just a fairy tale. Which, you alreadyknow…?” Okay, yeah, I did. It was a topic that came up for us every so often. Normally, we disagreed—with me being the diehard sceptic in this brotherhood—but now, my denial would have been considered gaslighting, so I just hummed in blithe agreement. “Right, so answer the bloody question.”

For a split second, I thought about telling him the truth. He’d take it seriously, after judging my stupidity and probably gloating about my confirmation of the supernatural’s existence, but what would it really accomplish? It wouldn’t make the problem go away, and I didn’t need him trying to convince me to just sleep with the guy. That decision was mine and mine alone. I also stood by my desire not to broadcast the mistake to the town, and though I trusted Wayne not to blab, giving the issue airtime felt counterproductive, like it would make things worse—morereal.

I could handle it myself, as I usually did, and if that turned out not to be the case, well, I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.

And I’d be sure not to resort to magic spells a second time.

“No,” I said, resolute.

Almost immediately, there was a scoff through the line.

“Lies.”Tosser. “Someone whohadn’tperformed a magic spell—especially someone who was as against the idea of a magic shop as you were—wouldn’t have hesitated that long.”

Again…Tosser.

“Yes, fine. I did.”

“And?”

“And nothing. It was pointless. I now have ashes in my carpet fibres that’ll probably be there forever. Oh, and I got a free playing card. How life-changing.”

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