Page 12 of Love's a Witch
“Well, if you weren’t nervous before…” Lyra grimaced in my direction.
“Now I’m terrified.” And I was at that. And nowhere in my calculations had I even considered the potential of me turning into a werewolf, and while, logically, I understood that wasn’t the way our witchy magick worked, it now felt like anything was possible.
“Is that a hair on your chin?” Nova leaned forward and squinted at my face, and I gasped, jumping up from the chair.
“I hate you.” Stomping across the room, I made for the bathroom.
“Girls, leave her be. It’s tough not knowing what your magick will be.” Broca’s voice floated after me as I climbed the stairs.
I hated uncertainty—hated not knowing. It unsettled me in a way that excited other people. But, maybe, just maybe, the ability to see the future would be my magick. I held on to that hope as I slammed the bathroom door and turned on the shower.
Surely it wouldn’t be all that bad, right?
CHAPTER FOURSloane
That poor tree,” Nova said, nodding to the massive yew tree in the center of the town square, its leaves now leaden with snow.
After breakfast, Broca had promptly ordered us into town for supplies, claiming she needed a nap to have the energy to deal with all of us. I suspected it was more to ease the pain from her recent hip surgery but agreed to get out of her hair for a while. Largely because I knew she was going to hate me later when I started her on the daily walks detailed in the physical therapist’s instructions Broca must have hidden in a kitchen drawer. I was glad to do it, too, because never once had Broca asked for help. She’d been a constant in our lives, even when our mother had dragged us away, and we’d always stayed in consistent communication.
Cobblestone streets, black Victorian-style streetlamps, and strands of string lights surrounded the interior of the square that showcased the ancient yew tree. It felt like stepping back in time, which I supposed helped with the magickal vibe the tourism board was going for, and haunting music drifted in the air.
“I can’t believe it. Did they pipe spooky music in?” Lyra pointed to small speakers built into the base of the light pole. “The streetlights have speakers attached.”
“Setting the mood. Okay, okay, I dig it. They’re committed,” Nova said.
Snow swirled under the streetlamps, a frolicky little dance of flakes, and a woman glared out from a shop window.
“?‘The Dragon’s Hoard.’?” I read the black sign over the window, the letters etched in gold with tiny flame scrolls. The window showcased all things shiny and sparkly, a gift shop catering to what I assumed most dragons would love—all that glitters—and I smiled at a black crystal dragon figurine with glittering ruby eyes. “I’m not going to lie, I’d buy that dragon in a heartbeat.”
“Do you want it for your birthday?” Lyra bounced on her feet. I rarely let them buy me anything, largely because we had to pack up and move so often. What was the point of acquiring trinkets if I had no place to put said trinkets?
“Mmm.” I wavered. The dragon was pretty cool.
“You know she’ll say no. She always does.” Nova tucked her scarf into her leather jacket.
I wasn’t that boring and predictable, was I? The dragon gleamed in the light, and I sighed, coveting it. If it weren’t as large as it was, I probably would have let them buy it for me immediately.
“How about this? If we break this curse, that dragon will be my reward. You can gift it to me then.”
“That’s fair. I’ll allow it.” Nova patted my back like an approving schoolteacher, and I shrugged off her touch, moving to the next store.
“?‘The Veilcrest School of Spells.’ Huh. Imagine that. A spell-casting school, of all things. Sloane, you can enroll once you get your magick,” Nova said, her tone gleeful.
“?‘The science of spell-making. Harvesting ingredients. Full moon rituals,’?” Lyra read from a sign on the window. “This sounds really interesting.”
“I’m not going back to school.” I’d hated school, hated being on someone else’s schedule, hated learning about subjects that didn’t interest me. But if I loved something, like literature, then I leaned all in. My biggest regret about moving was that I couldn’t take my books with me.
“Look, an enchanted bakery. ‘Mystic Munchies.’?” Lyra snickered. “?‘Charming cakes and bewitching biscuits.’?”
“This is nothing like I remember it. Briarhaven really has turned itself into a theme park, hasn’t it? But, like, kind of classy? It’s not like Disney.” Nova said as we all tilted our heads to watch a chocolate fountain situated in the front window of the bakery. The chocolate poured from the mouth of a croissant dragon and coated tiny bubbles that floated up from what had to be a cauldron of dry ice perched beneath it.
Except I was fairly certain dry ice didn’t send bubbles into the air. Let alone bubbles strong enough to be coated in liquid chocolate.
“They’re using magick out in the open,” Lyra breathed, fixated on the window. “How are they getting away with this?”
“Sometimes, hiding in plain sight is the easiest way to go unnoticed,” I murmured, transfixed on the chocolate-covered bubbles.
I wanted to reach in and pop one.
