Saved by the Spell. House of Magic 2.

by Susanna Shore

  I groaned. “What use is that book, then?”

  He glanced at me from under his brows, the closest he could come to look at me. It was as if its effect on him was growing worse.

  “It tells me the spell exists and where I can start looking for it. The council headquarters should have the grimoire I need.”

  “Is there any chance you’d go look for it immediately?” I suggested hopefully. “I have an engagement party to attend to this weekend and I don’t want to repel half the guests there.”

  “Oh?” He hesitated. “Not yours I presume?”

  I rolled my eyes. As if I wouldn’t tell him if I became engaged. “My cousin’s.”

  “Ah.” He glanced at his watch. “I guess I could go tonight.”

  “Not before you’ve had dinner,” Giselle stated firmly, pushing me gently towards the door.

  Ashley was in the living room when we returned there, lying on the sofa, her long legs hanging over the armrest. She wore soft black jogging bottoms and a matching hoodie with the logo of London Fire Brigade on the front. Her bald head was glistening with sweat, and she’d thrown an arm over her eyes.

  “Should you be up yet?” Amber asked worried, going to check on her. She was a former A&E nurse, so taking care of people came naturally to her, even if her stark demeanour suggested otherwise.

  “The evening after full moon always feels like the world’s worst hangover,” Ashley said, her voice feeble. “But I need food, so I might as well get up.”

  In due course, we sat at the table. Ashley joined us, even though she was still pale, which meant that Griselda was a no-show. The cat knew exactly what Ashley was and didn’t like it.

  Luca arrived too, having closed the shop for the duration. It would be opened again for the night customers at eight. I’d wondered at the odd hours when I moved in here, but maybe vampires came to the shop often and needed convenient hours.

  My mind was briefly occupied with the problem of how vampires shopped for groceries. Maybe they had everything delivered.

  It was an odd dinner, with Luca and Kane avoiding looking at me. I sat at the other end of the long table from them and didn’t make them so sick they couldn’t have done justice to Giselle’s stew.

  Ashley ate twice as much as the rest of us combined, so I guess her nausea had passed too.

  “Are you two angry with Phoebe?” she asked the men when she’d recovered enough to pay attention to her surroundings.

  I pursed my lips, aggravated. “Apparently I have a protection spell on me that makes me repulsive to men.”

  She threw her head back and barked a loud laugh. “How the fuck did that come about? Do you have an overprotective father? A jealous boyfriend?”

  “Neither, nor do I know any men who can do magic except these two, and I’m fairly sure they’re not responsible.”

  Kane and Luca shook their heads enthusiastically.

  “So where did it come from?” Luca asked.

  I’d avoided thinking about it thus far. I spread my arms. “I have no idea. Could it be a residue of the curse?”

  The curse I’d triggered had made everything I wished on others to come true. Even nice wishes had twisted so that they made the other person’s life difficult, on top of which every wish had bounced back to me and I’d effectively cursed myself too.

  “I wished that Ashley would be safe at work. Maybe it’s bouncing back again?”

  All the mages at the table shook their heads. “It’s not a curse,” Giselle said. “It’s positive, benign magic.”

  “That makes me repulsive?”

  “Only to men,” Amber consoled me, and then added with a teasing smile: “You could switch teams.”

  “If I were at all attracted to women, I would,” I said sourly, making the women laugh. Giselle patted my shoulder.

  “Well then, until we figure out how to remove the spell, enjoy the added safety it gives you.”

  Exactly how safe I was from men became evident the next morning. The Tube car was as full of people as always, but today I had more breathing room than before. Consciously or not, the men around me kept a careful distance, no matter the discomfort for themselves. Not a single body bumped against me, accidentally or intentionally.

  I could get used to this.

  Central Line was emptier again, though not so much so that I would have been able to sit, but I had a good spot near the door at the front of the car.

  The train had barely left the station when the pressure in my neck returned, same as the previous day. Determined to locate the source, I swirled around, glaring at the general direction where the sensation came from. But no one was looking at me, and I only managed to startle the woman behind me.

  I leaned over to peer behind her, but I spotted no one. Could someone be watching me on the CCTV? But there were those on every line, yet I only felt it here.

  When I turned to face the front again, the sensation returned, and it remained even though I tried to keep people between me and the direction it came from.

  It wasn’t until I exited the Tube station that the sensation eased, but I couldn’t relax. Could it be a side effect of the curse? Sorry—spell. I wouldn’t be surprised if it contained a possibility that the commissioner—aka the overprotective father/jealous husband—would want to keep an eye on his daughter or wife.

  That wasn’t creepy at all.

  By the time I reached the pedestrian court outside the gallery, I desperately needed a consoling latte. I wouldn’t mind a glimpse of the turquoise eyes either…

  I was already heading to the café when I realised that he would be repelled by me too. My shoulders slumped in disappointment, and I swerved to the office instead, my steps slow and heavy. I was feeling sorry for myself as I prepared for the day.

  My mood didn’t improve when Kane arrived. One glance told me he hadn’t located the spell.

  “Don’t despair yet,” he consoled me, as he hurried past me to his office. “We have a huge library. Every benign spell is there. I just have to locate it.”

  “Someone has to know about the spell already,” I pointed out. “How else could they have cast it?”

  He nodded approvingly. “Excellent point. I’ll ask around. Meanwhile, you should try to figure out who would want to do this to you and why.”

  “It’s not for my protection, that’s certain.”

  He paused at his door. “It does seem to have a malicious intention, as it’s making your life more difficult. Are you perhaps courting the same man as some other woman? Maybe she’s spelled you so he wouldn’t notice you?”

  The thought had merit, even though I’d never “courted” anyone in my life. “I’m not currently seeing anyone.”

  Memory of the turquoise eyes made my insides warm. Maybe he had a jealous stalker who spelled any woman who so much as glanced at him. I couldn’t remember that there would’ve been anyone around us, but then again, I’d been completely unable to pay attention to anything but him.

  “Could it be Danielle again?” I suggested instead.

  His ex-wife, Danielle Mercer, had been under the impression that Kane and I were romantically involved, one of the reasons she’d laid the previous curse on me.

  He grimaced, looking uncomfortable. They hadn’t really resolved their issues after the divorce, and while he couldn’t accept the direction her pursuit of power had taken her, on some level he still cared for her.

  “She’d make sense, and she definitely has the skills.” She was studying dark magic with a warlock, an evil mage who practiced death magic and had shed his humanity for power and longevity. “But she hasn’t been sighted in London since she left with that French chap.”

  The “chap” was Laurent Dufort, the warlock who was teaching her. He was mind-numbingly attractive for an evil non-human who was presumably over a hundred and fifty, and the two were an item—or at least had been before she left him and stole his curse statuette. It could be Danielle was happy with him and had better things to do th
an to mess the imaginary relationship between Kane and me.

  “What about the engagement party you mentioned?” Kane asked.

  “That’s for my cousin Olivia. We’re not close and I don’t even know the fellow.”

  “What’s his name? Maybe he’s from a mage family.”

  “Henry Sanford.”

  He shook his head. “Not anyone I know. I don’t think there’s a mage family named Sanford, in London anyway, but I can check if there’s one elsewhere.”

  I sighed. “It would be weird if Olivia had put a spell on me so her fiancé wouldn’t notice me. She doesn’t know about magic, and it would’ve been much easier for her simply not to invite me to the party.”

  He agreed to that and then disappeared into his room. His face was tight, the strain of talking with me this long evident.

  An hour later, I received a message from Mom informing me that she’d arranged a fitting for me that afternoon for an engagement party dress at the Dior boutique. I wasn’t exactly a Dior kind of girl, but I had nothing against a good cocktail dress, especially since she was paying.

  I tried to make do with my salary, instead of relying on my parents’ wealth, but I never said no to Mom if she wanted to buy me clothes. Usually, generous purchases like that came with lectures on my marital status. But since I would receive one anyway—thanks to Olivia—I might as well enjoy the perks.

  The Dior boutique was on New Bond Street, a half a mile from the gallery. I told Kane I’d be gone for longer than usual on my lunch break, much to his relief, and set out on foot.

  Mom had given instructions for the dress when she made the appointment, and her notion of a perfect dress sadly differed from mine. A dozen dresses were waiting for me when I arrived, all suitable for a society matron twice my age.

  I stared at them in horror. “I am not trying those on.”

  The shop assistant nodded. “Maybe we could compromise,” she said tactfully.

  And that’s what we did. I emerged from the boutique with a dark blue silk cocktail dress that had a flouncing pleated hem which reached my mid-calf and continued diagonally up the fitted strapless top. A narrow black belt brought it together. It was a perfect blend of elegant and youthful.

  Pleased with my purchase, I returned to the gallery to show the dress to Mrs Walsh, who was in charge of the customer side of the shop. She was in her mid-fifties, and half a head shorter than me even in four-inch heels. She was a great connoisseur of haute couture who always wore designer clothes and genuine jewellery, and she gave me her approval for the dress.

  I was about to head back upstairs when a customer walked in. He was past sixty, tall, with snow-white hair, and dressed in tweed. He nodded at Mrs Walsh and then turned to me. His white bushy brows furrowed, and he shook his head before addressing Mrs Walsh.

  “I’d like to see the lot number thirty-four.”

  The auction items were on display in the adjacent exhibition space for people to peruse before the event. Since the auction was my purview, I smiled and stepped closer.

  “This way, sir.”

  I gestured with my hand for him to precede me, and he did, making sure to give me a wide berth. I led him to the correct item and then took pity on him and retreated. He didn’t linger at the display and left without any word about whether he would attend the auction.

  Bugger.

  “What was that about?” Mrs Walsh asked, baffled, when the door closed behind him.

  I gave a nonchalant shrug. “Maybe he thought I’m too young to know anything. Next time you handle him.”

  The moment I was back upstairs, I marched to Kane’s office. “The spell is repelling customers too. You have to do something before I lose my job.”

  He gave me a distracted smile, his attention on his computer. “I’d be a poor boss if I fired you for something you have no power over.”

  But since he couldn’t look directly at me, I knew it was only a matter of time before he changed his mind.

  He was hopeful he’d find a solution that evening. “I’ll let you know the moment I have it,” he told me when we closed at the end of day.

  But despite his optimism, he had only disappointing news for me the next morning, and every morning after that. And before I knew it, it was Saturday.

  Chapter Four

  Aunt Clara was waiting for me in the magic shop when I descended the stairs at the appointed time. She was studying the place curiously while regaling Amber with a story of the latest disaster her bones had predicted, a flash flood in Indonesia.

  Amber listened politely. Customers like Aunt Clara were inevitable when one ran a magic shop.

  Aunt Clara was four years older than my father and looked a lot like him too, tall, thin, and commanding. I guess I did as well—except for the commanding part. Her hair wasn’t white like his, but I suspected the cinnamon colour we shared was a courtesy of her hairdresser—unlike mine.

  She always dressed in Chanel and tonight wasn’t an exception. Her black cocktail dress was timeless and age-appropriate, if it applied to a woman nearing eighty. Her pearl necklace was a gift from her late husband, and she always wore it too.

  She gave me a sharp look when I entered the shop. “You could’ve worn more jewellery.”

  I took that as an approval of my looks since she couldn’t find anything else to complain about.

  I was happy with them myself. My makeup and hair were done by professionals—a rare indulgence—and the cameo choker I’d inherited from my grandmother, Aunt Clara’s mother—which I guess was the cause for her complaint—suited the dress perfectly.

  I pressed my cheek against hers in greeting. “How come you’re not going with Emilia and John?” They were Olivia’s parents.

  “I promised your mother I’d make sure you won’t embarrass the family.”

  I rolled my eyes. As if I’d never been to a society event before. But I was glad for her company, so I kept my mouth shut. Her presence might make the curse—fine, protection spell—less noticeable too. People would naturally interact with her and ignore me.

  It was a six-mile drive north to Hampstead Heath. The Sanford family lived on the north-western edge of the heath, right by the park. A footpath led into a copse of woods at the end of their street and there were trees everywhere, golden and red in the setting sun.

  The house was a late eighteenth-century cottage, a rambling brown-brick with white trimmings around its small-paned windows. A garage wing had been added at some point, but it too was so old you couldn’t really tell the difference between the original house and the addition.

  Aunt Clara nodded approvingly. “At least they have money. You never know with these aristocrats.”

  I bit my lip to keep myself from commenting and hoped she wouldn’t bring it up with Olivia’s future in-laws.

  Another black cab pulled over behind us and Olivia exited with her parents. She was a dainty woman with honey blond hair and large periwinkle blue eyes that made her look perpetually innocent. Men always thought she was a delicate creature in need of protection, and she was good at playing to their notions.

  She looked radiant in a light pink silk dress that was pleated diagonally similarly to mine, except that her top had cap sleeves. She hugged her grandmother carefully and then kissed the air on both sides of my cheeks.

  “Congratulations,” I said warmly. “Quite a surprise you gave us.”

  She showed her hand that had a huge diamond ring on it, and I made appropriate noises. “Harry managed to surprise me too. We’ve only been dating for two months.”

  Okay…

  I greeted Emilia—my actual cousin and a younger copy of Aunt Clara—and her husband John, a tall man in his mid-fifties who ran the family business. Emilia complimented my looks and John frowned and pulled back. He was usually a nice man, but I knew it was the spell causing it and didn’t take it personally.

  The double gates in the brick wall that separated the front garden from the street were open, with braziers burnin
g invitingly on both sides. With Olivia going in first and me keeping the rear, we made it down the paved path to the main door, where we were greeted by Baron and Lady Sanford.

  He was closer to sixty than fifty and had the air of a college professor about him, his thin hair slightly dishevelled and his manners absentminded. She was about a decade younger, American, and judging by the jewellery she’d caked herself with, the money.

  They were happy and cordial, and surprised but pleased by the sudden engagement. We were then introduced to the groom to be. He was about my age, a tall and elegantly dressed man who resembled his father with his light brown hair and friendly eyes.

  I braced myself when it was my turn to greet him, but he was too well-brought-up to show his reaction, though the handshake was brief. If Olivia noticed, she didn’t comment.

  I was almost certain she hadn’t put the spell on me.

  We were led deeper into the house as more guests began to arrive. It was as rambling on the inside as it was on the outside, and crammed full of antique furniture and art. I was instantly fascinated, and could have spent the evening studying the place, the gallerist in me putting a price tag on everything.

  I guess I was as bad as Aunt Clara.

  Unfortunately, she knew me well, and she pulled me into a large parlour where other guests were gathering. In my aunt’s wake, I made the rounds, gracefully suffering the shudders and distaste of every man. If Aunt Clara noticed their snubs, she didn’t comment.

  The evening progressed smoothly. There were drinks and finger food, and I concentrated on the latter so that I wouldn’t have to speak with anyone. I wasn’t a natural recluse, but I didn’t want to ruin the evening for anyone.

  When it was time for the speeches and toasts, I retreated to the back of the parlour, where I could observe without offending. All the right words were said, no one brought up the hasty engagement, and the young couple looked radiantly happy. I tried not to envy them.

  “Do you think she’s pregnant?” a woman about my age asked in a quiet tone by my ear. She was taller than me, with short-cropped shock-red hair from the bottle, and laughing grey eyes. I vaguely recalled that she was Henry’s cousin from his father’s side.