by Bailey Cates
And finally, I could hear her.
“Stop the spell. Break the circle. Your magic is feeding the wrong spell!”
Fear stabbed through me. I didn’t know what to do. Except—
Quickly, I moved to where Mimsey and Lucy held hands. Grabbing them, I forcibly pulled them apart. As their fingers parted, my ears filled with sound.
A loud pop! in the cauldron was followed by a flash of light and a whoosh of smoke. Mungo began barking, a high and desperate sound that chilled my blood. Honeybee caterwauled. Rafe hissed. Puck ran around the circle, trying to get to Bianca. Then suddenly he ran inside and up her skirt and arm to her shoulder.
He ran inside.
I had only a split second to realize I’d succeeded in breaking the circle. Then everything went black. I felt myself begin to fall. Gentle hands eased me down to the floor.
“She’s passed out!” Lucy said. “Call 911!”
But I hadn’t passed out. I was still conscious. I blinked rapidly, and my vision began to return.
“No,” I moaned.
Mimsey kneeled beside me. “Ladies! The Sight has overwhelmed her. Come help—”
“It’s not that,” I broke in. “I’m okay.”
Only I wasn’t. Something was wrong.
Really, really wrong.
No. Something was really, really gone.
I gasped and struggled to sit up. “No!” Looking wildly around, I saw them all staring at me. “This can’t be.” I was panting like a terrified animal.
Lucy grabbed my shoulders. “Katie, what’s wrong?” she demanded in a shrill tone I’d never heard her use before.
“It’s gone,” I said.
“What’s gone?” Mimsey asked, looking just as worried as my aunt.
“My magic,” I whispered. “I can’t feel my magic anymore.”
Chapter 15
“Nonsense!” Mimsey said briskly. “Witches don’t just up and lose their magic. Come along, Katie. Let’s get you off the floor.”
Obediently, I let them haul me to my feet and lead me to the sofa. Nonna wasn’t in the Honeybee anymore. At least I couldn’t see or hear her. The spellbook club members were their good old solid selves again, which was a relief. However, there was an absence.
A lack. A gray dullness to everything.
It was as if water had been drained from a bowl of pebbles. Like the pebbles, I remained. Like the water, my magic had flowed away, leaving unfilled gaps in my being.
How could this have happened? What, exactly, did happen?
I tried to wrap my mind around it, to remember the details of the spell. Had we done something wrong?
Wait. Nonna had said something.
“Your magic is feeding the wrong spell.”
What spell? Someone else’s spell?
“Is everyone else all right?” I asked, afraid that whatever had happened—or whoever had happened—had stripped their gifts from everyone in the coven.
They looked around at one another.
“I feel fine,” Lucy said slowly. Honeybee jumped on the arm of the sofa and rubbed her head against my aunt’s arm.
“Me, too,” Bianca said, reaching over and brushing my hair back from my temple.
The others murmured agreement.
“Of course, we feel fine!” Mimsey said. “And you will, too, Katie. Just rest here for a bit. This must be the aftermath of the spell.”
“I don’t think so,” I said slowly.
“We heard you talking to someone,” Bianca said. “Did you learn the identity of Kensington Bosworth’s killer?”
My eyes filled with tears as I shook my head. “No. I was talking to Nonna.” I looked at Lucy, who had never been visited by her mother, though Nonna had shown up to chide my mother at least one time that I knew of.
My aunt frowned. “What did she say?”
“She . . .” I hesitated. “She told me to stop the spell. That’s why I broke the circle. She said something about danger. I don’t know what. I couldn’t actually hear her. Which is weird, you know? Because usually I can only hear her, yet this time—”
“What kind of danger?” Cookie broke in. She came over and perched on the edge of the sturdy coffee table. Rafe had twined his yellow, black, and red–striped body around her forearm.
A tear spilled over onto my cheek. “I don’t know. She said, ‘Your magic is feeding the wrong spell.’”
The ladies looked at one another anxiously, and suddenly Mimsey didn’t appear quite so sure of herself.
“I should have listened to Connell.” I tried unsuccessfully to keep the quaver out of my voice.
Lucy sat down next to me and put her arm around me. “You didn’t do anything wrong, honey. You only wanted to do good.”
Bianca hugged herself and turned away. I wanted to tell her not to blame herself, that I would have tried to clear Randy even if he hadn’t been her boyfriend, that I really did believe in seeking out the truth, that Quinn really had needed me.
But I didn’t. Because without my magic, I wasn’t a witch anymore, was I? And Quinn needed a witch for his paranormal cases, not just some random baker.
Oh, God. What if I can’t bake anymore? That was part of my gift.
I let out a sob and clamped my hand over my mouth.
“Now, hang on,” Mimsey said. “Mungo, come here, please.”
Mine was the only familiar present who hadn’t joined us. He stood by the bookshelf, his head cocked to one side as if he couldn’t figure out what was going on. When Mimsey called him over, he didn’t budge.
“Mungo, honey?” I pleaded.
Slowly, he crossed the room and stopped by my foot. I patted the sofa cushion beside me. Instead of jumping up and snuggling with me like he normally would, he sniffed my leg and backed away.
“Please?”
But that was gone, too. Our connection. That thing where I knew what he was thinking. Where he knew what I was talking about. The magic that intertwined us.
He whimpered and ran out of the reading area toward the kitchen.
“No,” I sobbed. “No.”
I choked out the word again and again from the bottom of my broken heart.
* * *
* * *
I don’t know how long I cried. There were a lot of tissues thrust at me, and hot drinks and cold drinks. Finally, Lucy made me swallow a shot of the bourbon we used in our pecan pies, and that did the trick.
Shakily, I blew my nose. “I’m sorry, everyone.”
“Don’t be silly,” Bianca said, worry creasing her brow.
Jaida sat down across from me. “Can you tell us what happened during the spell?”
I closed my eyes and tried to remember. Carefully, I told them everything I could remember, ending with, “I really thought it was working.” My throat felt tight again. “I really thought I could learn who killed Mr. Bosworth.”
“Declan is on his way,” Lucy said. “And I left a message for your dad.”
“What? Declan can’t leave work. I mean, I’m not sick or anything.”
I saw the others exchanging looks. I was already too upset to care, though. And heck, I could see how they’d see losing my magic as a kind of sickness.
But maybe not terminal.
“Do you think this could be temporary?” I asked, suddenly daring to hope.
Cookie said, “Geez, I sure hope so. It must really suck not to have any magic.”
Mimsey spared her a glare before saying, “That’s entirely possible, honey. Let us see what we can find out. I think for now you should go home and take it easy. Draw a nice hot bath. Throw in some Epsom salts and some lavender. Go to bed early.”
Great. The last thing I need is to stare at the ceiling for hours on end.
A loud pounding on the front door distracted me. It was De
clan. My dad must have picked him up at the firehouse in the truck, because he was right there beside him, one hand cupped around his eyes as he peered through the glass.
My aunt hurried to let them in, and I got up and followed her. Seconds later, Declan enfolded me in a hug. I sighed into his shoulder and closed my eyes, letting myself feel like I was six years old for a few moments.
Then I pushed away. “Lucy told you what happened?”
He nodded. “I don’t really understand, though.”
“Any hint from you-know-who?” I asked.
Grimacing, he shook his head. “I wish there was, but he’s silent. Sky, what do you think about what Lucy told us?”
Dad, who had been watching our cryptic exchange about Connell with puzzled interest, frowned. “She said you lost your magic, Katie. How can that be?”
“I don’t know. But it’s—” I swallowed. “It’s gone.”
His forehead wrinkled as he tried to figure out exactly what that meant.
I got it. I really did. As Mimsey said, witches don’t just suddenly lose their magic. And in fact, not just witches, but everyone possesses magic of some kind, and though it might be masked in some people, it didn’t just go away.
Not unless . . .
“A hex,” I said slowly, and looked around at everyone. “Maybe someone put a spell on me.”
Mimsey’s eyes lit up. “If that’s what happened, then we might be able to find a counter spell. Ladies, we’ve got some research to do. Katie, Declan can take you home. Wait to hear from us.”
* * *
* * *
I convinced Declan I’d be okay and to go back to work. He resisted until Lucy told him I’d be spending the night at their town house. I quickly agreed. So, after a long kiss and a reluctant wave, he left with Dad. The members of the spellbook club had already hurried away to start their research, and Lucy began cleaning up the Honeybee reading area. I insisted on helping, though I probably wasn’t that useful. By then a thick numbness had settled into my psyche, and over and over I found myself staring into space as I tried to put together what had happened to me.
When everything in the Honeybee was tidy and prepped for the next morning, I braced myself and went back to the office. Mungo was sitting on his chair rather than lounging, watching the door as if he expected me to come in and give him a darn good explanation of what was going on.
“Sorry, buddy,” I sighed. “You were there. You saw Nonna, too, didn’t you?”
He looked puzzled.
“After that, I don’t know what happened. But the spellbook club is on it, and I’m hoping we find a solution soon. Don’t give up, okay? I need you on my side.”
He jumped to the floor, came over by my foot, and sat down. I picked him up, and he nosed my chin, then gave it a hesitant little lick with the very tip of his tongue.
It was better than nothing. “Thanks, little guy.”
At Lucy and Ben’s, we ate a cold supper of ham sandwiches and fruit. It was a quiet meal for the most part, punctuated by spates of forced chitchat that kept falling back into silence. By eight thirty, Mungo and I had retired to the fold-out sofa bed in Lucy’s herb room, since Dad was staying in their guest room. I sat propped up against the pillows, flipping through my aunt’s collection of spellbooks to see if I could find anything that might help.
“Your magic is feeding the wrong spell.”
What kind of spell had Nonna meant?
There were protection spells, which would be too late, and reversal spells, which would help now—only the ones I found required that you know exactly what kind of spell you were reversing. None of the books contained a hex that resulted in someone losing their magic. There were spells to block magic, to send it back to the user, and to dissipate a spell, but nothing like what had happened that afternoon.
Still, I was sure someone was responsible. Over and over, I thought of what Connell had said about the magic in this case being strange somehow. Being dangerous. Well, he’d been right.
It has to be dark magic. No wonder I can’t find it in Lucy’s spellbooks.
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in.” I closed the book on my lap as the knob turned.
My dad stuck his head in. “Hey, honey. How’re you doing?”
I shrugged. “At least I’m not bawling my head off now. That’s progress from earlier today.”
He came over and sat down on the edge of the bed. Mungo went over and nosed his hand, which Dad rewarded with some good ear scritchin’s.
“I’m sorry you’re hurting,” he said.
I managed a wan smile.
“I’ve never heard of anything like this happening.”
Waving at the pile of books beside me, I said, “You’re not the only one.”
“Still, I think I might be able to help.”
I stared at him, feeling another seed of hope begin to sprout. “Really? How? What do I need to do?”
He shook his head. “Not tonight. I need to prepare. And I need to talk to your mother.”
Rubbing my eyes, I groaned. “I haven’t told her.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”
“She’ll probably think losing my magic is for the best anyway.” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
“Now, Katie.”
“She never wanted me to know anything about my gift. She hid it from me. And now it’s gone. I barely got a chance to practice the Craft, Dad! Because of her.” I knew I wasn’t being fair. Truthful, yes, but not really fair.
“Your mother did what she thought was best,” he said. “And you know how she feels now. She’s happy for you.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but he shook his head again and reached over to tousle my hair. “Keep a good thought, okay? It’s important. Don’t add any more negativity to this if you can help it.”
Slumping, I nodded. “Okay. I’ll try.”
Certain I’d be awake and fretting all night, I was relieved when I conked right out and slept until Lucy woke me at six the next morning.
Almost. Because I’d come to believe my sleep disorder was related to my magic, and now, just like my magic, the sleep disorder was gone.
It didn’t help that after all that rest, I felt exhausted as I drove to the Honeybee.
Chapter 16
Of course, I went to work. Not because I particularly wanted to, but because I didn’t know what else to do. However, since I’d slept in, we got a late start, and from the get-go I could feel myself just going through the motions.
Measure, stir, mix.
Dollop or roll or knead. Whatever the recipe called for next.
Put it in a pan. Put it in the oven. Put it on the rack. Put it in the display case. Put it in a bag and watch the customer carry it out the door.
No incantations. No spell work. No helpful nudges toward money or love or happiness.
Two loaves of sourdough bread collapsed into rock-hard lumps while they were baking. The whoopie pies came out lopsided. The banana muffins tasted like soap.
“Nonsense!” Lucy said, echoing Mimsey from the day before. “They taste just fine.”
However, I noticed she put them in the back of the bottom tray in the display case, where few customers would notice them.
At quarter after ten, the phone on the wall rang. Ben scooped it out of its cradle.
“Honeybee Bakery. Sweet or savory, we’ve got you covered.”
I rolled my eyes. He was always trying out new ways to greet our callers.
“Caesar! Well, hey there. How’re you doing?” He chuckled. “Or should I say, how’s tricks?”
That got my attention. I put down the rolling pin I was holding and turned toward my uncle.
He caught my eye and waved me over. “Good, good. Glad to hear it. . . . Yep, everything’s going well
here. Slow season and all. But winter is coming.” He laughed. “Right. For us, that’s a good thing.” He glanced at me. “Yep, she’s right here. Hang on a sec.”
I took the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hi, Katie. It’s Caesar Speckman. I went ahead and ordered those lockets you wanted. They’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Oh,” I said. “Um, thank you.”
“Don’t get me wrong. You don’t have to take them if you’ve changed your mind.”
Had I changed my mind? I’d wanted to give the members of the spellbook club herbal spells within those silver lockets as bridesmaid gifts. Now I couldn’t cast the spells.
Discouragement spread across my shoulders like a heavy blanket. I took a deep breath and forced myself to straighten. Dad was right. I needed to stay positive.
Besides, they were lovely lockets, regardless. Maybe Lucy could help with the spells.
“I’ll take them. Thank you for ordering them so quickly.”
“No problem. I just tacked the lockets onto an order I already had with the jewelry company, and they were able to add them at the last minute. The UPS delivery is usually around noon, so you can pick them up tomorrow afternoon if you want.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you then,” I said.
We hung up, and I went back to rolling out the dough for full-moon sugar cookies. Lucy had already mixed the iridescent white icing and set out the lavender-infused sugar to decorate them with when they’d cooled.
The lunch rush was busier than usual when Dad showed up. He waited patiently in the reading area while I fetched pastries, Ben took orders at the register, and Lucy worked the coffee counter. Iris had a dentist appointment and wouldn’t be back until later in the afternoon.
Finally, I was able to grab a couple mugs of dark roast brew and join my dad. I set a plate with two cream scones slathered with butter and peach freezer jam down in front of him, and he reached for one with an appreciative mmm.
After he’d demolished half of one and chased it with a swallow of coffee, he said, “I talked to your mother.”
“What did she say?” I took a swig out of my own mug and braced myself.