Page 8 of Haunted Heart
I glance sideways at him and wonder if this is a side effect of the first half of the spell he’s drinking.
But I ignore him and smile at Perry. “As long as you don’t give her a reason to want you out of her house, you’re fine.”
Grumbling something I don’t understand, Dylan finishes his beer and sets the bottle aside.
I nudge him with my elbow. “Stop being a spoil sport. This is supposed to be fun.”
He looks at me, a little disgusted. “Sorry if I don’t think this occult bullshit is fun.”
While the others talk, I watch him, wondering…
We met in an occult shop a year ago. He was into it then.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just a little crowded in here.”
Margie hops up to grab another seltzer, coming around to our side to hand Dylan another beer before settling in.
I don’t stop him from taking a long swig from the bottle. If the ingredients I added to the beer are making him like this, there won’t be enough time for more of it to make him worse.
THREE
The sun has fully set outside,but the candles along the perimeter keep the room bright with a warm haze.
The house was never hooked up to the power grid, but Julia’s murderer had installed several electric fixtures before she killed him. The antique bulbs in them are dark… for the moment.
My friends look at them with suspicion now.
“Ready?” I ask.
“No,” Margie says, chewing on her thumb. Everyone else—except Dylan—says yes.
The answer has to be yes.
I have to finish the spell that will fix what’s broken with Dylan.
He’ll stop doing things like sitting too close, he’ll stop being a jerk to other people when he thinks I’m paying too much attention to them, and he’ll go back to just being my friend. A few more words, and no more romantic feelings ever again.
I strike a long match and light the candle in front of me, before passing it around the circle for each of them to light a candle of their own.
And once it’s back to me, I snuff it in one of the piles of sand inside the circle and sit up straighter.
The circle, pentacle, and borrowed bits of Ouija trappings won’t do anything. It’s all just a show piece for our audience.
The conjuror’s trick. Making everyone look at what Julia’s doing while I do the real magic on Dylan.
Closing my eyes, I set my hands on my knees, palms turned upward.
And flinch when Dylan’s hand takes mine. I pull my hand back from his grip.
“It’s not a hand holding kind of spell,” I say quietly, but not quietly enough.
Perry snorts into his soda can and Dylan scowls. First at Perry, then at me.
“Sorry.” I am going to be so happy when this spell is over and things are easy again.
Returning to my pose, I start to speak the fake incantation.
