Page 25 of Best Hex Ever
“Is that so?” Eric’s mother, Patricia, replied, picking lint off her tweed blazer. She looked like she ought to be off hunting foxes for sport, Dina thought.
It was, frankly, a miracle that Eric had turned out as down-to-earth as he had. He had never batted an eyelid at Immy’s less-than-Queen’s-English accent, or her writing profession, although his parents certainly had.
Dina remembered Immy calling her crying after she’d been introduced to Eric’s parents, and how they had berated her writing career, telling her that unless she changed her tune and started writing Booker Prize–winning novels, she might as well give up her writing dreams. When Immy had told them that she wrote horror novels they’d reacted even worse, spouting some nonsense about how women weren’t good horror novelists because of all their hormones.
Dina couldn’t remember the last Booker Prize–winner she’d read, but she devoured every single one of Immy’s novels. And not just because Immy was her friend, but because they weregenuinely some of the scariest novels she’d ever read. So scary that Immy had created a red-flag ranking system for Dina so that she knew how likely each book was to keep her from falling asleep that night.
The reminder of how Eric’s parents had treated her friend made it difficult for Dina to resist dropping a curse on them. Just a little one. But she resisted all the same, because she was a good witch.
“I hear you’ve already met my best man.” Eric nudged Dina, steering her away from his parents.
“News travels fast.” They walked toward the hearth where Scott was bending over, adding extra kindling to the fire. Sweet saints in heaven, how had she not noticed his tattoos until this moment? The rolled-up sleeves displayed the dark lines and geometrical shapes that traced their way from his wrist to his elbow.He looks like a lumberjack holding all that firewood,she thought, as her brain short-circuited entirely. She didn’t even realize Eric had left the two of them alone, she was so preoccupied.
“You’re looking better,” Scott said, chucking a final piece of wood onto the fire. Dina wasn’t sure if it was the fire or the heat between her legs, but for a second she was struck dumb.
“Much better, thanks,” she finally managed to choke out.
They stared at each other, neither one speaking. There was almost too much to say. The kiss she’d planted on his cheek hovered between them, unspoken. It had just been a kiss, she told herself. A kiss between friends.
“Is your speech prepared for the rehearsal dinner then?” Dina said, forcing herself to break eye contact to stare at one of the deer heads on the wall. The way that Scott was looking at her with his honey-brown eyes made it difficult to concentrate on anything. Small talk would help. Surely.
“Oh, it’s ready,” Scott said, grinning cheekily. “Soon everyonewill know about Eric’s diary entry from when he was fourteen, where he detailed the traits of his perfect girl.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was. Don’t worry, Eric gave me approval to read it. You’ll be surprised: He basically describes Immy.”
Dina looked over at the pair. Eric was planting a kiss on Immy’s nose, then whispering something that made her tip her head back and cackle with laughter.
“Actually, that doesn’t surprise me at all.” She smiled.
She suspected she could talk with Scott for hours and never get bored, but she didn’t get the chance, as he was pulled way into a chat with the other groomsmen. Dina felt a shiver of desire as she saw how Scott towered over the other men. Apparently she had a thing for tall men now.
—
A short while later, Immy and Eric were showing people where their rooms would be, with the help of a very eager steward called Martin.
“Shouldn’t I be doing this, as the maid of honor? You should be relaxing before the big day,” Dina said to Immy as they walked out the main entrance of Honeywell House and round to the right.
“It’s really more of a small-to-medium day when you think about it. Besides, I wanted your room for the weekend to be a surprise.” Immy wiggled her fingers like a movie villain.
“Why do I feel like I’m walking into a trap?” Dina muttered, as Immy pulled her toward the edge of the woods.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Immy replied.
As soon as they entered the forest, Dina felt something stirring in her magic. Normally it lay dormant within her until she needed it for a spell. But now it was thrumming in her blood, reacting to this place. The trees were tall and thick, littlesunlight made it to the forest floor, and the narrow pebbled path they walked along twisted out of sight ahead of them.
“There’s something here,” she whispered to Immy.
“Like magic?”
“Yeah. Like, I don’t know how to put it—like this is an old and powerful place. Like the land itself is breathing.”
“Ooh, I’m going to write that phrase down for my next book,” Immy said, pulling her phone out of her pocket.
As Immy slowed down to make her note, Dina walked on, feeling the power of this ancient wood flooding through her. She felt as if she were walking into the mouth of a great, slumbering goddess. But it didn’t scare her; it wasn’t meant to. It was just nature, older than history, older than bone.
The path curled around to the left, revealing a small cottage in the dappled light, dwarfed by the surrounding oaks. The lights were on inside, illuminating the ivy and wisteria vines that had twined themselves around the outer walls of the cottage. The windows were sashed in dark green wood, complete with window boxes filled with daisies. Daisies that Dina was sure shouldn’t have been able to grow in such little light, but this wood seemed to play by its own rules.
