Hexes and Ohs

by ReGina Welling

  Today’s fortunate victim was one Rusty Boneck. Slightly shy, with a good sense of humor once you got him talking. Gorgeous eyes behind dark-rimmed glasses, and a runner’s build.

  His intended, a sweet-natured woman named Sherry worked at the North Street dog shelter. Yes, I did stalk her a little. It’s what I do. Some matches are pivotal enough to rate attention from the Bow of Destiny with a song and shining symbol. Others, the less intense ones, give me a little jingle in the gut that pulls me toward someone’s perfect match. I call it my L.P.S. (Love Positioning System). When my stalking took me into her workplace, the lovely Sherry tried her best to talk me into adopting the most adorable little mutt. Salem, my cat familiar, would not have been amused.

  A fifteen-minute ride in a cab together ought to give her enough time to bring Rusty out of his shell. And it would make a sweet meeting story, too.

  I arrived at the corner of Eighth and Crombie just in time to toss a speed-up spell on the 9:40 crosstown bus and when poor Sherry hit the curb she saw nothing but taillights as her ride turned the corner on Ninth.

  Cue Rusty right on schedule, bless his little heart. I hit send on a text telling him I’d been delayed and he should meet me at…what a coincidence, Sherry’s work address. He absorbed the text just as the cab I’d ordered came into view.

  His arm went up, and a short distance away, so did Sherry’s.

  For a minute there, it looked like a flawless plan playing out just the way I intended.

  All I needed was to get close enough to orchestrate the taxi stopping right between them and let nature run its course. Worst case, I might have to toss on a glamour and suggest they share the ride. Keeping the lower half of my face tucked into my knitted scarf and the upper half covered by my hat, I slid into the space between Sherry and the bus stop vestibule.

  My gaze flickered between the cab and the man and the woman. The driver was coming in just a touch too fast and would overshoot the mark giving Sherry the chance to jump in before she and Rusty could converge. My slow-down spell—just a hint of it, should do the trick and I’d give them a first meeting to remember.

  I swear I didn’t choose the wrong wording. For Hecate’s sake, I’d just done the speed-up spell, so I knew the difference. But speed-up the cab did. And not only a little, either. The driver shot to the curb through six inches of a sloppy slush puddle which promptly spun out from behind the tire and rained down in an ice-cold, dirty wave that slammed into Sherry before soaking me to the skin.

  Gasping, Sherry pushed a muddy strand of once-auburn hair out of her eyes and looked for the reason.

  “You. That was my cab you tried to steal, and now look at me.” She lit into a gaping-mouthed Rusty.

  “I didn’t…I’m sorry.”

  “Say something charming. You can do this.” I muttered and kept my face averted while a glut of icy water shivered down my neck. “Come on, Rusty.” People meet under worse circumstances every day, and this could be salvaged. They could still have a cute meeting story unless he blew it by saying something stupid.

  Or worse. Smirking.

  “Do you think this is funny? What a jerk.” Sherry cast a look over her shoulder that would have slagged bedrock into lava and headed for home and dry clothes leaving Rusty behind.

  I was half tempted not to bother shooting him another text saying I’d have to postpone our appointment, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Shivering and annoyed, I sneaked into the nearest hidden spot and took myself home using magic. There are some perks to being a witch even if I was having the worst day ever.

  Again.

  3

  I shoved the covers off and stumbled into the shower with only one eye open and not even all the way, at that. A swath of rainbow-hazed, heart-shaped bubbles drifted out of my shampoo bottle, and I didn’t even bother going downstairs to see if heart-shaped pancakes were on the menu.

  Only a fool fails to learn from the past, so I crawled back into bed, yanked the blankets over my head and contemplated who had reason to curse me into repeating this day. I’m a good person—kind to strangers, wouldn’t kick a puppy, and I spread love in the world; what could be nicer than that?

  Salem scampered into the room and transformed into his human guise before my very eyes, “Don’t you have some work to do today? Get your lazy bones out of bed and come down for some chocolate chip pancakes. They’re extra special today—heart-shaped, in honor of Valentine’s Day.”

  “Go away, Salem. I’m not hungry.”

  “You sure? A good breakfast is the best defense against a bad day.”

  “Get out of my room, or I’m bringing home a puppy.” I glared at him until he whirred back into his kitty form and scampered out the door.

  In the midst of reviving my pity party, I rolled over and went back to sleep.

  4

  The next morning, I shoved the covers off and stumbled into the shower with only one eye open and not even all the way, at that. A swath of rainbow-hazed, heart-shaped bubbles drifted out of my shampoo bottle which, in a fine fit of pique, I winged into the trash.

  Ten minutes later, I held up a hand to stop Terra telling me what was for breakfast, and left the house before she could finish warning me about the perils of ignoring the first meal of the day.

  Right on cue, slip-on-the-ice guy slipped on the ice. The yapping poodle dropped her load just in time to ruin a nice pair of pumps.

  Walking past Java Java Java, I glared in the window. The coffeemaker in my office would have to do. At the end of the block, I remembered my impending appointment with Rusty, texted to cancel, and congratulated myself on getting this far without incident.

  Pink hearts popped up like demented jacks-in-the-box during the eight-block walk to the office. Under normal circumstances, I’d whip out my bow like a wild-west gunslinger, pop pop pop, and blow the smoke from the tip of my arrow’s heart-shaped barb with a wink and a smile.

  Instead, I decided to go back to my roots—to the nature of my job before the Gods insisted I level up. Flix, my business partner at FootSwept Matchmaking, was already in the salon out back, and before I scuttled through the connecting door, I confirmed that every one of the gaggle of women anxiously watching the clock was his client and not my own.

  “Hey, Lexi, what’s shakin’?” Flix asked, in far too jovial a mood for my tastes. His usually platinum blond hair had been faerie glamoured to a rose gold sheen and slicked back into a 50’s-era pompadour complete with a single curl threatening to bob into his line of sight at any second. A pair of gleaming gold shears whisked through the strands of the client seated before him at a speed Edward Scissorhands would envy.

  The recently-wed Mrs. VanDerVeen peered helplessly at me when he spun the chair away from the mirror, her expression darkening as Flix continued his whirlwind cut and style. Not until he’d whipped off her drape and ceremoniously revealed her reflection did the concern recede from Mrs. VanDerVeen’s eyes.

  “Voila!” Flix pronounced with a flourish. Perfectly tousled ringlets framed her symmetrical face, and paired with the right little black dress and smoky eyeliner, she was sure to give her new husband one of the best nights of his life.

  “What’s with the line out the door?” I asked as Flix ushered in the next harried-looking woman.

  “I’m overbooked.” He shot over his shoulder.

  “Overbooked? How?”

  “Well, I have more appointments than I have time to finish.” He explained with a signature eye roll. “I made the mistake of letting Salem answer the phone one day last week, and I think this is his way of getting back at me for some long-forgotten transgression.”

  “Yeah, that sounds about right. Let me help.” Finally, a task I could accomplish without messing anything up. Or so I thought.

  With a lighter heart than I’d had in days—relatively speaking—I checked the client list and called Mona Katz into the salon with a spring in my step. Not only was Mona a former client, but she’d become a good friend, besides. Plus
, she’d been bragging for a week about how her new assistant was such a gem they were ahead of schedule. Mona is an artist and cake is her medium of choice.

  “Getting ready for a date with Mark?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Sure am. Lexi, I think Mark is going to propose tonight!” Mona’s pathetic attempt at a whisper reached Flix’s sensitive Fae ears, and when we rounded the corner arm-in-arm, he began humming the wedding march at the top of his lungs.

  “I won’t say congratulations—you know it’s bad luck if he hasn’t actually gotten down on one knee yet—but Mark’s a smart man, so I’m sure they’ll be forthcoming.” Flix shot Mona a wink and finished rinsing shampoo from a head of jet black hair.

  Mona and I chatted during her shampoo and condition, contemplating outfit choices and deciding that a trim and some burgundy lowlights for her long blond layers would strike the perfect balance between sexy and “future wife.”

  Now, before you ask, the answer is no. I am not a trained stylist, but I am a trained witch with a little Goddess added in for good measure and am more than capable of whipping up a glamour spell more potent than permanent hair dye.

  It’s a common misconception that witches need wands to work magic. Magic comes from the elements: the five major, overarching elements of earth, air, fire, water, and spirit; and more specifically from every element on earth whether identified by modern science or not. In one quick flick of my finger, I beckoned what was necessary to erect a sight barrier, and projected an image of me physically cutting and styling Mona’s hair.

  Meanwhile, behind the veil, I closed my eyes, raised Flix’s spare pair of shears, conjured a vision of my desired final outcome and reopened them expecting to see Mona looking fabulous and ready for the most important night of her life thus far.

  Instead, she sported a purple mohawk with neon green tips.

  “Oh. My.” I gasped, praying the sight barrier also effectively blocked the expletive from reaching Mona’s ears, and looked to Flix with panic written all over my face.

  He did a double take while I desperately tried to undo the damage. Mona’s hair cycled through several other bizarre styles including a 1970’s pageboy a la Florence Henderson, the Rachel layered shag in shades of blue and yellow, and finally a look that resembled what I would have accomplished had I actually made the attempt without a drop of magic. A big chunk of hair was missing, right in the middle of the back of her head. No matter how hard I tried, no amount of glamour—witchy or Fae—would fix my mistake.

  “Um, Mona, I hate to tell you this but…we have a problem.”

  “That’s not something I really want to hear, Lexi. What did you do?” I’d never heard anything quite so sharp escape my friend’s lips, but her words were like razors.

  “Well, I…accidentally…um…” I looked at Flix with desperation in my eyes.

  “You’re getting a bob.” Flix pronounced, followed by a slew of calming words full of phrases that reassured Mona she’d be on the cutting edge of fashion, and that Mark would be so blown away by her new ‘do he’d want to ask her to marry him twice.

  While Flix took care of Mona, I retreated between the racks of clothes we keep on hand for matchmaking clients and searched for what I hoped would serve as a peace offering to my friend. Finally, I located a fire engine red, silk Versace cocktail dress and a matching pair of stiletto pumps in Mona’s size.

  Mollified, she walked away looking gorgeous—no thanks to me. When we were alone again, Flix fixed me with a withering glare.

  “Good Goddess, Lexi. What is up with you today? Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?”

  “No, just the wrong side of the space-time continuum.”

  “Maybe you ought to give up the coffee, start your day with a good breakfast. You know, it’s the—”

  “Best defense against a bad day.” I finished for him. “I’m starting to believe that’s the god’s honest truth.”

  5

  I shoved the covers off and stumbled into the shower with only one eye open and not even all the way, at that. A swath of rainbow-hazed, heart-shaped bubbles drifted out of my shampoo bottle, and I knew that this was only the beginning.

  Scratching lather into my scalp, I breathed in lavender-scented steam and let it soothe away the top layer of stress. If my life was going to take on the quality of a holiday TV movie, I’d better embrace the concept, learn my lesson and move on.

  As far as I could tell, the whole debacle began with my bad mood however many days ago…or today since I was still in time warp hell. And why wouldn’t I be cranky this year? Over the span of a mere nine months, I’d gained my magic (which came with a side of unanticipated extras), and both my mother and grandmother had come back from the dead. Talk about having your world rocked, and as the cherry on the top, I’d found my true love and then lost him again. No wonder I found this particular Valentine’s day bittersweet.

  Still, that was no reason to inflict my pain upon the world at large. Given a choice between being bitter and using my experiences to become more compassionate, I’d choose the latter. The decision lightened my mood.

  Giving in to the inevitable, I pulled on a soft red sweater over a pair of black slacks and paid extra attention to my makeup. Might as well embrace the day if it was the only one I was ever going to have again.

  At this point, I looked forward to an office full of Valentine’s Day hopefuls—as long as I could make it to work without setting off any major catastrophes.

  “Do I smell chocolate chip pancakes? I’m starving.” Terra got a kiss on the cheek as I passed her on my way toward the coffeemaker. “Those look delicious.” My plate had magically filled while I added cream and sugar to my cup. “You remembered caramel syrup is my favorite. Thank you.”

  “Can’t send you off to work hungry, now can we? After all, a good breakfast is the best defense against a bad day.”

  I pasted a smile on my face and hoped like spell she was right before jetting out the door.

  Another bright smile caught Clumsy Jogger Guy’s eye just in time to hit him with a confidence boost that turned his fumble into an impressive hurdle that scared the toy poodle onto the snow-covered median and saved his owner’s shoes from certain doom.

  A belly full of chocolate, caffeine, and a newfound sense of hope put a spring in my step as I approached the door to Java Java Java just in time to see Dahlia Breedlove’s puffy coat exiting the establishment. The Bow of Destiny’s orchestral arrangement evolved into a Stevie Nicks tune I couldn’t help humming along with.

  When a handsome man sporting the same heart symbol as Dahlia rounded the block and appeared in my peripheral vision, I whipped an arrow from the invisible quiver strapped to my back and let my inner Goddess out of her cage. Two quick shots hit their marks, and the couple’s symbols began shimmering to the same beat. I didn’t even have to watch what happened next to know that soon, the pair would share True Love’s Kiss and become mated for life, but I couldn’t resist observing the besotted look that crossed Dahlia’s face as she made eye contact with her soul mate for the first time.

  Satisfied and burgeoned by unexpected success, I made it to Rusty and Sherry’s corner a little early. Like clockwork, heart recognized heart in the touch of a hand on the door of a cab. A tiny tear formed in the corner of my eye when they zoomed off into the sunset. Okay, it wasn’t sunset or even sunrise, but you get the drift.

  By the time I arrived at FootSwept, I was breathless and riding the high that always accompanies the successful mating of souls. The front office was empty save for two clients who, as luck would have it, were actually meant for one another, and had already begun the delicate dance of flirtation without any additional help from me.

  Leaving them to it, I poked my head into the salon and, for a moment, wondered if I’d been transported to the Land of Oz. Flix and all four of my faerie godmothers were churning out Valentine’s Day date hairstyles with more panache than the girls from the Wash & Brush
Up Company.

  Evian, with her command over the element of water, held court at the shampoo station with the help of Terra, whose anti-dirt charm was more effective than a professional scalp treatment. “Head on over to Flix, honey, and he’ll fix you right up.”

  Magic hung heavy in the air, and the customers never noticed a thing out of place.

  The assembly line culminated in a joint effort by airy faerie Vaeta and fire wielder Soleil that rivaled Flix’s own legendary blowouts. I’d hardly noticed the current client was Mona until she’d bounded out of the barber’s chair and nearly knocked me over with an excited hug.

  “Lexi, you’ll never believe it! I think Mark’s going to—”

  “Ask you to marry him tonight?” I finished without considering the fact that Mona didn’t remember our last salon encounter. Good job, Lexi. How does that foot in your mouth taste?

  Mona raised an eyebrow but apparently chalked it up to my unparalleled matchmaking skills, “Yes, and I need something really special to wear. Do you think I…”

  “The red Versace will be perfect.”

  Thanks for taking the time to read about Lexi Balefire's Valentine's Day adventure.

  To learn more about the Fate Weaver series and the related Psychic Seasons series please visit ReGina Welling's website: http://reginawelling.com

  Find more information about Erin Lynn at http://erinlynnwrites.com

  About the Authors

  Regina Welling and Erin Lynn are the mother/daughter writing team behind the Fate Weaver series as well as the Ponderosa Pines mysteries. They both enjoy small town life in Maine and have been known to finish each other's sentences. Literally.