Page 42 of Witch Please

Nodding, Danica hugged her cousin. Shedidknow that. Even if they disagreed sometimes about family crap or fought like wet cats, they always had each other’s backs. Always. Calmer now, Danica went into the back and managed to work without wreaking any havoc. By the end of the day, her wild magic had been drained to a manageable level, and she hoped that boded well for their second attempt at the spellbook. Clem had gone home earlier to set up, and after Danica locked up the shop, she biked home in a pensive, melancholy mood. This felt like the bitter end of something beautiful, like getting a mouthful of dregs at the bottom of a sweet cup of tea.

She found the ritual set up for the second time at the kitchen table with Clem waiting at her usual anchor point. Mechanically, Danica washed up and got herself in the proper headspace, focusing on a gentle stream of magic as she opened the grimoire.I’m in complete control. No more misfires.

The same spell she’d found the day before was still there, but faded and blurred as if it hadn’t been executed right.Imagine that.This time, she kept a strong mental grip on the proceedings and spoke the incantation, slowly throttling back on her power.Let me go. Forget me. We aren’t meant to be. I’m so sorry.The candles flickered, and shefeltthe energy spiral outward in a soft shockwave, power sent to do her bidding as the book must have intended the first time.

“Did you feel that?” she asked.

Clem nodded, easing forward. “It’s still blank to me. What about you?”

When Danica checked, she nearly burst into tears because this time, the spell was gone.I did it right. Titus will probably forget about me.At least, that was the form she’d wished for when she released the spell. She didn’t want to hurt him, just for him to gradually lose interest, like someone getting over a crush. Her magic would ease the sting, and eventually, it would seem completely normal to him, just one of those things.

Despite her best efforts, the tears overflowed. Whether she’d wanted to admit it or not, this was a breakup.And I never even got to bang him.That unfair fact was salt in the wound. Clem rounded the table and put an arm around Danica’s shoulders, stroking her hair.

She sniffed. “You have to pick up the pastries from now on. I can’t. I just…can’t.”

“You got it.” Clem wiped up her tears with a napkin then said, “Ice cream? We have mint chocolate chip in the freezer.”

“Hell yes. Get the tiny spoon. I want to feel like a giant.”

When Clem laughed, it made her feel marginally better. This was what she’d chosen. Her cousin understood her quirks from a lifetime of making silly jokes together, and she had shared context like that with her coven sisters too. Maybe it wasn’t right that she had to choose, but nobody ever said life was fair.

There were so many kinds of love, and as she’d heard for her entire life, a Waterhouse witch had to take great care in matters of the heart.

***

Tuesday morning seemed to arrive even faster than usual.

Which was weird because Titus was spinning a theory that time had stopped for a while on Monday. That would explain why he hadn’t heard from Danica at all. Though he was trying not to be an obsessive weirdo, following Maya’s excellent advice, he still checked his phone compulsively. People who were dating sent each other occasional texts, right?

Why am I so bad at this?

The lunch rush gave him no time to think, and he was thankful to be busy as he covered Maya’s break. He’d left his phone in the kitchen, better that way. And he had been filling orders nonstop for half an hour, chatting up old ladies, when he finally took a breath and stretched his neck and shoulders. Really, he only enjoyed the baking part of this job. It was a good thing Maya liked managing the front end or he’d be in trouble.

Suddenly, the front door banged open, and a massive guy in a black leather jacket stormed in. He looked…dangerous, Titus thought, and rather out of place in St. Claire. Not that he was prone to judging people by what they wore, but everything about this dude raised his hackles. The man slammed a motorcycle helmet on the counter.

“Where is she?” English accent, not posh, Brummie, more like, or somewhere rough.

“Who?” Titus squared his shoulders. Ifthiswas Maya’s boyfriend and he was asking for Titus’s sister like that? Ohhellno. Every muscle in his body tensed, prepping for a fight.

“The fucking witch, you cunt. Followed her trail straight here, and I’mneverwrong about these things. Where is she?” The asshole reached across the counter and grabbed the front of Titus’s uniform, trying to yank him in for some intimidation.

But Titus didn’t let that happen. He dug in with dough-kneading strength and broke the other man’s grip. “Don’t touch me. And get out. Now.”

“Right, I shouldn’t have called you a cunt. I apologize. I’ve been riding for eighteen hours. This is a shop, yeah? Maybe she’s one of your customers…” Leather Jacket paced away from the counter, moving around the front of the café like a hound following a smell.

He didn’t seem to be looking for Maya in particular. Just…a random witch? Titus sighed.It’s going to be one of those days, isn’t it?Running a business meant anybody could wander in the door, and sometimes his clientele ran to tinfoil-hat types. There was a prepper named Dale who lived on a farm outside town, only came in twice a year for supplies, all furtive and unwashed. He spent his life waiting for the apocalypse in the root cellar, but every March he bought confetti cupcakes for his birthday, a ritual even a doomsdayer couldn’t quit. People were weird.

“Apology accepted.” Maybe this didn’t have to escalate. The guy didn’t seem to be tweaking, but Titus couldn’t get a look at his eyes behind the dark sunglasses. “If you’re not shopping for baked goods or buying a drink, you still need to leave, though.”

“Then I’ll have a black coffee.” LJ dug into his pocket and produced some grimy, wrinkled bills, just enough to cover his order. “Now then, I’m a paying customer. You want to keep me happy, right? Just answer the question.”

Titus ground his back teeth as he filed a to-go cup. He wasn’t about to give this dingus a ceramic mug.

“The question of…which of my customers is a witch? I’m saying this with your best interests at heart, sir. Please get help.”

“That supposed to be funny? I don’t expect gratitude for this thankless bullshit, but I’m dead tired of people insinuating that I’m daft when I know damn well what I’m about. There’s more going on in this sleepy little town than you possibly imagine, Cletus.”

He closed his eyes and counted to ten.This bastard didnotjust call me Cletus.Before he could respond, Maya came back from her lunch break. She greeted the jackwagon cheerfully, but without even a flicker of recognition, thank God.

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