Page 4 of Stolen Magic
They were a threat.
“Allie?” Not even the nickname my best friend gave me could soothe the galloping of my heart.
“They are beautiful,” Jasmine gushed, a note of envy coloring her voice.
“Yeah,” I breathed through numb lips, staring unblinkingly at them.
The large bouquet of white kalla lilies glared at me accusingly.
Chapter Three
People swarmed the shop in a sea of faces and blurred bodies that blended with the displays and shelving. It helped to take my mind off things, unless I looked under the counter. The flowers were tossed in the small trash bin under the register, spilling over the rim and tipping it precariously. Ignoring them the best that I could, I dived in with unwavering focus to answer questions, offer suggestions, and even help Char put together satchels for those coming to buy her potions and talismans. My best friend kept casting worried glances my way the entire time, but I pretended not to see them. Work I could do. It was healthy, productive, and left me no time to breathe little less finish the second cup of Columbian coffee Char brought me that morning. The cold cup was silently keeping the register company on top of the glass display.
Every time the bell chimed, my heart skipped a beat.
Cold sweat made my palms slippery, and no amount of wiping them on the fabric of my jeans helped. Around noon, the crowd dwindled, and after my third attempt to wrap a medium-sized statue of Isis, which kept tearing the wrapping paper, Char took it from me and hip-bumped me out of the way.
“We are closing for lunch,” she informed me after slipping a clear quartz as a way of apologizing to the pissed-off lady waiting for her Isis statue to be wrapped for twenty minutes.
I blinked numbly at my friend, but she didn’t wait for my agreement or any type of reply. Swinging her tote—which was large enough to carry a baby giraffe in—over her shoulder, she linked her arm through mine and bodily dragged me out of the store. We melded with the people rushing in all directions, while I clung to Char like I might fly away and never return if I let her go. As always, she understood me better than I did and tightened her hold on my arm as she maneuvered me around groups of tourists stabbing fingers at the Ferris wheel looming over everything at the end of the Pier.
Next thing I knew, we were perched at an outside table in one of the bars we liked for their tapas. While I focused on breathing, Char ordered a number of things, even remembering crab cakes before she turned her piercing gaze on me. My throat tightened from the knowing expression on her face, and it took a few tries to swallow the lump blocking my airways.
“Okay, I’m listening.” Her gaze rolled around the outdoor patio, and before I had a chance to part my lips, her finger popped up, silencing the words before they spilled from my lips.
Her hand dove into her tote while I struggled to fill my lungs with the air that tasted of the ocean and coconut oil. The distant hum of voices and honking cars thrummed around me, but despite all of it, I felt like I was drowning. So many years I’d stayed under the radar. I’d taken jobs that required my special set of skills, most of them more difficult than the last, yet nothing like this had ever happened. Everyone knew of the White Kalla, the thief, a ghost, but no one ever connected it to Alaska, the quiet candlemaker with a simple life.
Until now.
Char retracted her hand from the never-ending abyss that was her purse, triumphantly holding up a talisman the size of my thumb. I should’ve known she’d be prepared for any situation. Dark wood with wood on both sides was pinched between her fingers, and it pulsed with magic as she set it between us. Her palm hovered over it for a moment while a soft golden light stretched between it and the wood. My skin prickled when Char’s lips moved with whatever incantation she whispered, and the outside world melted into nothingness. Years ago, we agreed to never ask each other questions about our magics because plausible deniability was a thing we took very seriously, so I had no idea what she was doing. I still didn’t dare ask, although I wanted to know more than anything.
Both our lives depended on ignorance.
“Now we can talk without anyone eavesdropping on our conversation.” The happiness from using her powers washed off of her, and she peered at me in concern. “Allie, what’s going on? Knowing how prickly you are when it comes to jerks, first I thought a guy screwed up and was apologizing by sending flowers. I even felt sorry for the shmuck, to be honest. But the longer I watched you, the clearer it became that this is not a guy problem.”
My mouth opened and closed a few times but nothing came out. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe as I gaped like a fish out of water. I’d always been careful. I accepted or turned down jobs based on experience built on confidence, not arrogance. Many times I had snatched things in front of people’s noses with them oblivious to what was happening. Had much closer calls than the night before when the guy that showed up was the only blip in my otherwise carefully planned mission.
Where did I go wrong?
The whole thing was easy. It was too easy, and I should’ve known.
A warm hand covered my icy one on top of the table, and I blinked Char into focus. My friend looked sick from worry, and I hated seeing her like that. Guilt drilled a hole in my sternum because I’d never hidden anything from her. That should’ve been my first red flag when I left the house last night while she thought I was going to see a guy instead of leaving on a job.
“Please, Allie. You’re killing me here.”
She pulled back when the waitress approached the table, bringing our drinks and a few plates filled with yummy goodness. Instead of my usual drool fest when it came to tapas food, acid burned my esophagus. I found it mildly interesting that Char was talking to the girl while I was blissfully cocooned in silence, not hearing anything while watching their lips move—not that I’d complain. There were too many voices fighting for attention inside my head, and they made me nauseous and dizzy. Unfortunately, too soon we were alone again.
“I messed up, Char.” It came out in a whimpered groan.
My tone was as pathetic as I felt. Tears burned the back of my eyes. When I envisioned the worst-case scenario—someone finding out who I was—I imagined mobs of people screaming “witch” while pointing accusing fingers at me as they watched my execution. Not in a million years did I picture being exposed as a thief who used the rarest form of magic, which would lead them to the discovery of what I truly was. For whatever reason, the latter sounded and felt worse.
“Messed up what?” I could tell she was holding her breath.
“To start with, I lied to you about where I was going last night.” Her expression didn’t change while she patiently waited for me to continue, but I still dropped my gaze to the table because I didn’t want to see the disappointment in her eyes. “I was on a job. I could use the excuse that the client didn’t want anyone hearing about it and made me swear an oath to justify lying to you. But I can’t do that. I refuse to do that. It was over the phone, and it won’t work on me anyway, even if it wasn’t.”
“I’m guessing that’s not why you look like seven generations of your ancestors just crawled out of their graves.” She urged me to tell her everything with calmness that didn’t betray her feelings. I hated it. I wanted her to yell, tell me off, even slap me if she felt like it. Anything but the emotionless tone she was giving me.
Words spilled from my mouth in a torrent of jumbled sentences, like I couldn’t wait until I had it all out in the open. Char listened carefully, occasionally tilting her head when the corners of her eyes crinkled with suspicion or her mouth tugged down in a frown. By the time I was done, I was panting and gasping for air while she leaned back in her chair with a stunned expression on her face. Our untouched food and drinks sat silently between us.
