Page 83 of Best Hex Ever
Dina waited as her mother went to the en-suite bathroom and emerged with a bowl scented with frankincense and filled with pre-mixed henna (the house had clearly known what her mother had planned).
Together, they spooned the henna into a bag and cut a small hole at the bag’s corner.
“We’re going to fix this, habiba.” Her mother’s determined voice filled her with a sudden flash of hope.
Dina became aware that her mother was singing softly under her breath. Ever since she was a baby, her mother had sung like this. Sometimes in Darija, sometimes in English, never in French. Nour took her daughter’s right palm and began to apply the henna in a beautiful pattern.
Her voice lilted into a whisper and then back into song, the notes throaty and warm. Like hushed prayers.
Her mother tipped Dina’s hand palm up, and drew a circle in the center, the henna scented with frankincense. Dina felt atingling warmth where the henna was drawn, each stroke of the application stirring something in her core, in her spirit. Magic thrummed within her, its molten light flowing through her veins.
She looked down and saw in surprise an elegant pattern of flowers and vines that wove around her fingers, and in the center of her palm, an open eye.
“This is so you will see yourself as I see you,” Nour said, her eyes prickling with tears.
Dina stood and turned to face the mirror. For a moment she did not recognize her reflection. That woman was beautiful, glowing, beaming a smile, kindness and joy radiating from her. That woman was Dina.That’sme.
The hex had felt insurmountable, impossible to break, even once she had known she was the cause of it. It was one thing to be told she needed to love herself to break the curse, but quite another to do it in practice. But as Dina looked at herself, everything fell into place. Her family accepted her for who she was. And if she told herself that she was worthy of love, then it was true. And if it was true, there was no need for the hex anymore. No need for that wall that she had built between herself and others to keep them from seeing her as she truly was. Scott loved her, and she loved him. And they would be okay.
She shuddered in a breath as the insidious magic of the hex began to dissipate, like ashes blowing away after a fire’s gone out. Then her ears popped, and the hex was gone.
Dina looked across at her mother, smiling through her tears.
“It’s gone,” she cried. “Mama, I’m free.”
They collapsed into a heap of tears and laughter, Dina’s father walking in and wrapping his long arms around both his wife and daughter, not knowing why they were happy-crying but just glad that they were.
After some time, Nour took Dina’s face in her hands.
“We’ve fixed this for now, but I meant what I said. A witch cursing herself is a powerful form of magic, intentional or not. Loving yourself will feel easy some days, and other days it will be a mountain you cannot climb. Dina, habiba, I want you to promise me you’ll see someone about this.” She pressed a kiss to her daughter’s cheek. “You know you can always talk to me—tous—about how you feel. But there are some things that magic can’t fully cure, and you need to find someone you can talk to who will help you keep that wall from coming back.”
Dina agreed.
“I’ll speak to someone, I promise.” She smiled.
“Well, then, what are you waiting for, benti? You have to go to Scott and tell him how you feel!”
The moment her mother uttered those words, Dina’s bags appeared by the door, already packed. Heebie was stored away in her carrier, sleeping soundly. A train ticket even sat on top of Dina’s bag.
She laughed. “Thank you, House.”
Not bothering to go change or shower, Dina picked up her things. There was no time to waste. She had to go and gatecrash the opening of an exhibition.
Chapter 37
For the fourth time, Scott attempted to tie his bowtie. This time, it looked a little lopsided, but he couldn’t be arsed to start from scratch. He stared at himself in the small mirror in his office, brushing hair out of his eyes. He hadn’t slept well, and from the shadows under his eyes, everyone would knowit.
“Thank you for joining us this evening to celebrate the opening of Symbols of Protection: The Mystical Art of Talismans from Around the World. I’d especially like to thank…Who the fuck do I want to thank again?” Scott turned around to check his notes.
Memorizing the names of the sponsors, benefactors, and the many museums around the world that had donated artifacts—only temporarily, of course—had taken him most of the afternoon. This was a big exhibition, and he didn’t want to leave anyone out, or mess up any of his speech.
Dr. MacDougall was counting on this exhibition being a success. It would prove that she’d been correct to hire Scott, young as he was, to be a curator at the museum.
And if it was successful, he’d have a much easier time when it came to pitching his more outside-the-box ideas.
Nerves bit at him; there was a hollow, queasy feeling in his stomach. Scott was confident enough, but he hadn’t given manyspeeches, and he certainly hadn’t given many at opening-night exhibition galas before. His mums were going to be there, as well as Eric and Immy. There was, of course, one person missing—the person he wanted most to be there, and the only person who would notbe.
Dina would have known what to say to calm him down. She would have pressed her lips against the crease between his eyebrows until his frown softened into a smile. He missed her tinkling laugh, and the way she scrunched up her nose when she smelled something bad—which in London was frequently.
