Page 10 of Summertime Hexy
“You sleep?” she asks, eyes flickering with mischief.
“I rest.”
She rolls her eyes and curls up under the blanket.
“Goodnight, grumpire.”
“Goodnight, chaos witch.”
And somehow, despite the tether and pressure, it’s the best rest I’ve had in years.
CHAPTER 5
HAZEL
Let the record show: I didn’t cry.
Okay? I didn’t.
My eyes may havewateredaggressively. My nose may have betrayed me. But there were no tears. There was no sobbing. No emotional collapse. There was just a very dignified moment where the universe kicked me in the metaphorical kneecaps and I had a minor magical meltdown in front of my infuriatingly composed vampire roommate.
So. We’re clear.
It happens in the meadow near the moon pond—my favorite spell practice spot. It’s quiet here. Just a wide open clearing ringed by willow trees and stubborn wildflowers that always bloom out of season. Lyra says it’s because the soil remembers good magic. That it responds to intention.
And today, my intention is to prove—to myself, to Derek, to literally anyone—that I can still dosomethingright.
“Third attempt,” I mutter, rolling my sleeves up. “Simple restoration. One cracked charm tag. One basic sigil. No pressure.”
The charm tag is an old one—a kid must’ve dropped it during last summer’s ritual. I found it near the tool shed this morning, bent and faded. Easy fix. Should take thirty seconds, tops.
I grip the charm in one hand, draw the sigil in the air with the other.
“Reparo.”
Nothing.
“Re-paro.”
Still nothing.
I grit my teeth. My fingers twitch. I focus harder. Try to push past the static buzzing in my chest.
“Reparo.”
The sigil pulses—then fizzles. With a faintpop, the charm crumbles into dust.
I blink at the empty space in my palm.
Then the world tilts sideways.
It’s like all the glitter I’ve ever thrown, all the bravado, all the jokes—justdrain outof me. And suddenly I’m standing in a field with shaky hands and a broken charm and a gaping hole where my magic used to be.
The breath I take catches halfway.
No. No, no, no.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Okay, it’s fine. I just—maybe the humidity’s messing with the flow.”
