Agnes snorted. “Yes, that’s your motto, isn’t it?”
We sat at a smaller table by ourselves, as far away from the others as possible. I filled her in on all the information to date, including Laurel’s interpretation of the symbols.
“Sounds like you’re making real progress,” Agnes said, chewing thoughtfully.
“Do you have any idea which coven members would have been working on breaking the curse and why they might have stopped?” We had no idea when the parchment was created or why it was hidden for so long.
“It has to predate me,” Agnes said. “I never would’ve made witches and wizards hide their findings. I would’ve been thrilled to be head of the coven when the curse was broken. What a legacy.”
“Do you have any concerns at all about breaking the curse?” I asked. “What it might mean for Spellbound?”
She licked her fingers. “More excitement than concern. Think of the liquor out there I haven’t tried yet. And while I’m still young enough to enjoy it, too. Hot damn.”
I laughed. I couldn’t argue with her positive outlook.
“I think residents will be happy to have their freedom,” I began, “but they’re also worried about an influx of new paranormals. The town’s entire infrastructure will need to be overhauled.”
“One day at a time, my dear,” Agnes said, patting my hand. “You have your mother’s letters and a wedding to worry about right now. Guests with poor taste that want green gelatin. Don’t let yourself get distracted. It’s not up to you to solve the problem that’s plagued us for years. This town has been closed off for a long time. A little while longer makes no difference to anyone.”
Despite Agnes’s wise words, I still felt a sense of responsibility that I couldn’t explain. Then again, I’d always made a habit of taking on other people’s problems, even in the human world. It was in my nature.
“You’re right, Agnes,” I said. “Breaking the curse is important, but so is my life. I manifested a hundred kittens today. A hundred!” I felt my resolve strengthen. “I’m bringing my mother’s letters here, Agnes, one way or another. If anyone can do it, I can.”
Agnes punched the air. “That’s the spirit, my little sorceress. Even though you neglected to bring me a bottle of Goddess Bounty, I believe in you.”
It may have taken some time, but, finally, I was beginning to believe in me, too.
The Black Hat was located on a side street not far from the library and the bank. It was a surprisingly dingy building for Spellbound. The exterior paint was noticeably chipped and one of the shutters hung crooked. I was tempted to whip out my wand and fix the shutter, but I stopped myself, wondering whether the look was deliberate. Some kind of magical shabby chic.
I pulled open the door and entered the shop. There was no sign of Olaf or anyone else for that matter. Music played softly in the background. The shelves were lined with books and accessories you would expect a magician in the human world to own—ropes, a large cage with white rabbits, coins, playing cards, throwing knives, and an assortment of capes.
I jumped back when a black cat shot out from underneath the table. He began meowing incessantly at my feet, demanding attention. I leaned down to scratch behind his ear and he purred.
“Aren’t you friendly?” I said. What a far cry from Magpie.
"I see you’ve met Steve," a voice said.
I glanced up at a tall man wearing a black trench coat. He sported a five o'clock shadow and circles under his eyes so dark, they looked like bruises. Given that the temperature in Spellbound was constantly perfect, the trench coat seemed particularly out of place.
"You must be Olaf," I said, extending my hand. "I'm Emma Hart. I think we may have met at a coven event." That was a lie, of course. There was no way I wouldn't remember a wizard like Olaf. He stood out like a cactus in a rose garden.
"You’re the sorceress," he said, giving me the once-over. "Funny, you don't look particularly powerful."
I stopped scratching the cat and rose to my full height. “That’s why they say looks can be deceiving, I guess. To be honest, I'm not sure how powerful I really am. We’re still in the figuring-it-out phase."
"So why would a sorceress be interested in a magician's tricks?" Olaf asked.
"Why would a wizard be interested in a magician's tricks?" I replied. It seemed to be a poor career choice, to expect to impress a town full of paranormals with illusions and magic tricks. It would be like trying to sell fins to mermaids.
"Wouldn't be the first time I've heard that," Olaf said. "I still book the odd party here and there. I figure one of these days, if the curse ever breaks, I'll be all set to make my way in the human world. They love this kind of stuff.”
He produced a coin from behind his ear and handed it to me.
"That they do," I agreed. "But you're a wizard. You can use actual magic. Why use magicians tricks?"
"Because it's a challenge," he replied. “Real magic isn’t challenging for me or any of the magic users in town. Creating the appearance of magic…” This time he produced a coin from behind my ear. "Now that's impressive work. I consider it to be art. I don’t expect you to understand."
"You forget that I'm still new to magic," I said. “Believe me, I do understand.” I could see why he suffered from gambling debts and a drug problem, if the rumors were true. He was struggling in his current environment. Spellbound wasn't the right place for a wizard like Olaf.
"I've been trying to keep my ear to the ground regarding the coven’s efforts to break the curse," Olaf said. "Any chance you have inside information? I'm not the most popular wizard, so I tend to get left out of coven updates."
“The coven is working very hard on this," I assured him. “Everyone has a stake in the outcome. Even those that intend to stay here will still want the option to travel, to see long-lost relatives, or visit new places.”
"I guess you'd go running straight back to where you came from," Olaf said.
Steve jumped onto a nearby shelf, demanding more attention. "What makes you say that?" I asked.
"You may be a sorceress," he said, "but you’ve lived your whole life as a human. You must still be uncomfortable here. Mother Nature knows I've never fit in here. I can only imagine how you feel."
"That's the thing, Olaf," I said. "I never felt at home where I came from. Coming to Spellbound has been like coming home for the first time. I’ve met the most amazing friends and I’m engaged to the angel of my dreams. None of that would have happened if I’d stayed in Lemon Grove. I wasn’t meant to be there. That’s the way I look at it.”
He gazed at me with interest. "Fascinating. Thank you for that."
I cocked my head. "For what?"
"For giving me hope," he said. "I want to believe there’s somewhere I belong out there. Maybe one day I’ll get the chance to find out."
I felt a rush of sympathy for the lost wizard. I understood how he felt, even though my own experience in Spellbound was very different from his. I was so distracted by our conversation that I nearly forgot the reason I was there.
"I understand you were friendly with Seamus," I said, getting to the point of my visit.
Olaf scowled. "Just one more reason to hate living here. One less friend who gets me."
"Was he a friend?" I asked. "I heard you had some kind of magical rivalry."
"We were always gambling against each other," he said. "But it was nothing more than a friendly competition. Neither of us took our wins and losses personally."
"Yet you were angry with him recently, I understand," I said.
Recognition flickered in his dark eyes. "You mean the pixie dust incident."
"What happened? All I know is that Seamus lost a bet." Okay, I knew a little more than that, but it was better to let Olaf give me his version of events.
Steve switched his focus to Olaf and meowed.
“Yes, I think she’s very nice, too,” Olaf said. The wizard began to stroke the cat’s back without taking his attention fr
om me. "We were at the casino playing Wizard’s Folly."
"Is that a card game?" I asked. The name was new to me.
"Yes, it's like Seven Card Stud, but more complicated," Olaf replied. "Anyway, we decided to up the ante at the last minute. If I lost, I had to reveal one of my magician secrets. You’re from the human world. You know how valuable they are."
"Was Seamus interested in that?" I asked. It seemed to me a pixie would have no need for sleight-of-hand tricks when he had pixie dust.
"He thought it would be a bit of fun," Olaf said. "Something to entertain his nephews with." Olaf paused, and I got the sense that he was thinking about the family that Seamus left behind. "If I won, Seamus promised me a jar of pixie dust. I find it useful for certain spells. Plus, it's nice not to need a wand on occasion. I know your magic is more sophisticated than that, but most of ours isn't."
“And I take it you won the game," I said.
Olaf couldn't resist a proud smile. "It was a good night for me. I'm not usually that lucky. When I went to collect my winnings from Seamus the next day, he handed me the jar as agreed and I went on my way. It was only when I went to use it later on that I discovered it wasn't pixie dust at all."
I knew where this was going. “Coffee grounds?" I queried.
He gave me a sharp look. "How did you know that?"
"Because I know who did it.”
"What do you mean ‘who did it’? I thought Seamus did it as a prank on me. I was furious.”
"It was a prank,” I said, “but not by Seamus. It was his neighbor, Tomlin. He replaced the pixie dust with his own coffee grounds. They’d been arguing over a tree and it escalated.”
Olaf appeared stunned by this revelation. "Seamus swore up and down he didn't do it, but I didn't believe him. I was so angry."
"Why were you so angry about it?" I asked. "It was harmless enough. Coffee grounds weren't going to hurt you."
Olaf hesitated. "I may not have been in my right mind when I attempted to use the pixie dust," he admitted.
"You mean you were already upset about something else?" I asked.
Olaf rolled his eyes. "For a human, you really are naïve. No, I mean I was literally not in my right mind."
Oh. He meant drugs. "Do you have access to a lot of illicit substances?"
Olaf’s dark eyes widened. "Why do you ask? Are you interested? Because I have a couple of discreet sources."
"Can you get anything you want?" I asked. "Even things like hemlock and nightshade?"
Olaf rubbed his five o'clock shadow. "I've never asked for poisons myself. I can certainly find out if that's what you want."
He didn't seem to realize what I was asking. That only made me more certain of his innocence. Magical miscreant or not, Olaf was not our guy.
“That’s okay, thanks. So did you work things out with Seamus?"
Olaf nodded. "I went back the next day and he gave me the real pixie dust. He apologized profusely. I was still bitter, but I let it go. Now I’m super glad I did. Life’s too short, you know?”
It really was.
Steve rolled over onto his back so that Olaf could rub his belly. He reminded me more of a dog than a cat.
"I still can't believe Seamus is gone,” Olaf said. “He was one of the few paranormals here who understood my struggle.”
I offered a sympathetic smile. "Well, consider me Seamus’s replacement because I really do understand, Olaf. You're not alone, even though it may feel that way at times. And if you ever want to talk, I'm happy to listen."
He perked up. "Would you tell me more about the human world? I hear there’s this incredible place called Las Vegas. It sounds like bliss to me."
I laughed. "You'd have to ditch the trench coat," I said. "It's a city in the desert, and you would be way too overheated. I definitely think it’s somewhere you’d enjoy, though."
His lips formed a satisfied smile. "Once again, Emma, you've given me hope. Thank you for that."
"We all need hope, Olaf,” I said softly. “Sometimes it's the only thing that gets us through the day."
Chapter 12
“What’s wrong, Emma?” Sophie asked.
The five remedial witches were in the secret lair, supposedly working on wards, although my mind was elsewhere.
I glanced up at Sophie, still lost in thought. “Huh?”
“For the luckiest girl in Spellbound, you look pretty unhappy,” she said, coming to sit beside me. “Anything I can do?”
“I’m not unhappy,” I replied, setting aside the voodoo doll of Lady Weatherby I was meant to be protecting with a ward. “I’ve been mulling over my last therapy session with Dr. Hall. She doesn’t want me to get my hopes up about my biological mother.”
“Is this to do with the letters?” Laurel asked.
I nodded. “If I get my hands on them again, I may not like what I find. All this time, I’ve been hoping the letters will tell me my mother missed me and wanted me back.” My voice grew softer. “But what if they don’t?”
Sophie placed an arm across my shoulders. “Emma, no matter what the letters say, they won’t be a rejection of you. Your biological mom never knew you. She never knew how amazing you’d grow up to be.”
A tear slid down my cheek. “I’m so frustrated that I can’t seem to do a simple manifestation spell. I’m supposed to have sorcery skills. Why is this so hard for me?”
“Have you considered the possibility that the letters have a protection spell to keep them in place?” Begonia asked, abandoning her voodoo doll to come and sit with us.
“Agnes and I have discussed the possibility,” I said. “But there’s no way to know for sure.”
“It might be an emotional block,” Laurel said. “You want these letters so badly, your magic has gone on the fritz.”
That was an entirely plausible explanation. I seemed to manifest everything except the one item I truly wanted.
“What if we all helped you?” Begonia suggested. “What if the five of us channeled our will into you at the same time and gave you an extra magical boost? That might be enough to push past your emotional block or a protective spell, whatever the obstacle is.”
“E pluribus unum,” I blurted, seized by a childhood memory.
“Latin, isn’t it? Is that part of the spell?” Sophie asked.
“No,” I said, with an embarrassed laugh. “It’s something I learned in school. It was the motto of the original thirteen colonies in the U.S. when they decided to form one single nation. It means out of many, one.”
“What made you think of it now?” Laurel asked.
“I don’t know. I guess because we’re going to combine the power of all five of us into one magical burst.” I glanced over my shoulder at Millie. “Will you join in?” She’d been sitting alone at the table, working on a chart of poisonous plants for extra credit, complete with illustrations.
“Let me finish this root system and I’ll be right there,” she said, her focus fixed on the chart. No one could ever accuse Millie of being lazy.
“Are you sure it’s safe to try this here?” Sophie asked. “What if we blow up the secret lair or something?”
“I doubt we’ll cause an explosion. Besides, the secret lair is probably safer than the care home,” I replied. “There’s no danger of anyone walking in on us and complaining about our use of magic.” Thankfully, no one had reported the kitten incident.
Laurel rubbed her hands together. “This is great. Come on, Millie. I’ve been itching to work on more sophisticated magic.”
“You’ve been too busy deciphering old parchments,” Sophie said.
“And that’s sophisticated in its own way,” Begonia added.
“Come on, Millie,” Laurel called. “We’re ready.”
Millie set down her quill and joined us around the coffee table. “Just because Lady Weatherby asked you to help with the secret project doesn’t make you our boss.”
“I wasn’t trying to be your boss,” Laurel replied. “I’m excited t
o try this. That’s all.”
“So I should do my usual manifestation spell?” I queried.
“Yes, except this time, we’ll all hold hands and focus our will at the same time,” Laurel said.
“It’s a packet of letters, right?” Begonia asked.
I explained the letters in greater detail, including the place where I’d discovered them—in a box in my grandparents’ old barn.
“Sounds good. Are we ready?” Begonia asked.
We positioned ourselves in a circle around the coffee table, clasped hands, and closed our eyes. I gave us a moment to focus our respective wills before I began the spell.
I took a deep breath, my stomach churning from nerves. As the witches’ magic flowed into me, I gathered the energy in the pit of my stomach, same as when I manifested the kittens.
“Bring to me like ship to land/letters by my mother’s hand.”
I felt the energy shift. It was like a window opening and allowing in a slight breeze at first, followed quickly by a rush of air. I heard a few items topple over and papers flutter to the floor. When I dared to open my eyes, a familiar sight greeted me.
“The letters,” I whispered.
Beside me, Begonia squealed with delight. “We did it!”
Emotions threatened to overwhelm me. We released hands and I stared at the packet on the coffee table, afraid to touch them.
“It worked,” Millie said, sounding surprised.
“That was a good idea, Begonia,” Laurel said.
“I do have them on occasion,” Begonia said, and I detected a note of pride in her voice.
I barely heard the rest of the conversation around me. I was too focused on the letters. They were finally here in Spellbound. Maybe now I would get the answers I’d been dreaming of ever since I discovered the truth about my heritage.
“Well?” Millie prompted. “Are you going to stare at them all night or actually read them?”
I touched the letters to make sure they were real. The envelopes were thick and grainy. Definitely real.
“I think I’ll take them home with me, if you don’t mind. Now that I actually have them, I’m not quite ready.” I’d probably wait for Daniel to be with me in case I needed emotional support. Not that the witches couldn’t be supportive—they were incredible friends—but it was Daniel I wanted by my side.
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