Fat lot of good it had done. If she looked like a 40-year-old today, who was to say she wouldn’t be mistaken for her smelly Great-Aunt Rachel—or worse, a corpse—this time tomorrow?
Sally’s bag shifted in her arms as they hurried across a busy intersection. “Easy, Baron. We’ll think of something,” she whispered to her cat.
But what if she and Opal couldn’t fix this?
They reached the other side of the street, and Sally stopped and pulled on Opal’s elbow again. “And just how am I supposed to explain this to my parents? They don’t even know I’m a witch!”
Opal rested her hands on the wet shoulders of Sally’s rain slicker. “I know you’re upset, but we have to keep calm and think this thing through.” She adjusted the dark, square-framed glasses on her face. “Maybe what’s happened is only temporary. Maybe it will wear off if you just stop doing magick for a while.”
Tears formed at the corners of Sally’s eyes. “And give up on a golden environmental age? Just forget about making the planet a better place? I don’t think so. And how do you know that stopping would make things better? What if I don’t go back to myself again unless I finish?”
Opal shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Sally looked down at the pavement and kicked at the shallow puddle she found herself standing in. “And what if I don’t get back to normal no matter what I do?”
“Look, we’re not going to solve anything standing out here in the rain.”
Opal pulled Sally forward again. They rounded the corner and soon found themselves at the main entrance of Powells City of Books. As they entered the crowded bookstore, Sally pushed back her hood and opened her backpack just far enough to pull out Kleinhaber’s Rhythms of the Runes. Sally clutched the book to her chest. Now that she looked more like an unkempt, middle-aged spinster, she felt ridiculous in her hot-pink rain jacket and matching Nikes.
Opal steered them toward the Customer Service counter, and they got into line behind a red-haired woman in a turquoise power suit and a graying man who was losing his battle to keep a pair of cranky six-year-olds in check. One of the boys hung on his father’s arm like it was a jungle gym, while his identical brother kicked at a magazine rack and sent copies of Wired, Home Computing, and Red Herring flying.
Sally elbowed Opal and nodded toward the man. “If I don’t fix this, maybe I can get a job as his nanny. Or his wife.”
“Will you stop it already? Aren’t you always the one telling me to think positively? That negativity only interferes with . . . Whatever?”
Sally shoved her right hand into her pocket, but she couldn’t keep her fingers still. She tapped her forefinger against her thumb and winced at the flash of pain.
“I almost forgot.” Sally held her thumb up in Opal’s face. “Look what happened this morning.”
Opal squinted at the angry, red lines burnt into the pad of Sally’s thumb. “What’s that?”
“Uruz. My runes were hot! Hot enough to burn me.” Sally clutched her book tighter and rubbed at her scar. “Nothing in any of the books said anything about red-hot runes or turning into a hag overnight.”
The line moved forward. The man ahead of them was trying to ask for directions to the parenting books while one of his boys attempted to scale the Customer Service counter and the other made paper airplanes out of the complimentary walking maps of Portland.
“Maybe this is the wrong thing to say, because I don’t exactly want to encourage you to experiment further . . .”
“I’m not experimenting, Opal. I know what I’m doing.”
“Umm. Yeah.” Opal glanced at Sally’s burnt thumb and then at the wrinkles on her face and the streaks of gray in her hair. “If you say so. But what I was going to say is that I’ve been casting spells for a lot longer than you, and nothing like this ever happened to me.”
“Yeah, I get it. I’m cursed. I’m a horrible witch. Instead of calling it Odin’s Spell of Magickal Return, maybe I should rename it something like Wrinkled Sally’s Spell of Outrageous Doom.”
Opal laughed, then stopped, but it was too late. Sally’s eyes were brimming with tears again.
“That’s not what I meant. I meant when I practice, nothing happens—at least, nothing I can definitely say was due to my spell. Remember Jimmy Vogel in my Economics class last year? I couldn’t even get him to look at me, much less ask me out. But in retrospect, maybe that was a good thing.”
Opal nudged Sally gently. “You’re actually making things happen. Just not the things you want.”
Sally wiped the tears from her eyes. “But what do I tell these people?” She nodded toward the two women manning the Customer Service desk, both of whom were trying to entertain their customer’s twin boys while recommending books on single parenting.
Sally turned the book over in her hands. “All of Kleinhaber’s books are out of print. They had to special order it for me from some collector in Glasgow. It’s pretty beat up, but it still cost a lot of money.”
“How about, ‘Excuse me, but this expensive, defective book you sold me ended up costing me my youth? I’d like my money and my body back, please?’”
Sally giggled. The man in front of them grabbed each of his boys by the arm and dragged them away. Sally and Opal stepped forward, and Sally’s breath caught in her throat.
“Can I help you?” asked the young girl behind the counter. She didn’t look much older than Sally—when Sally wasn’t looking like an old lady. The girl’s dark hair hung in curls about her shoulders, and Sally noticed the distinct scents of fresh sage, lavender, and sweetgrass rising from her.
Quality stuff, Sally thought.
“Can I help you?” she asked again.
Opal nudged Sally.
“Don’t, don’t I know you?” Sally stammered.
There was something curiously familiar about the young woman behind the counter. Maybe an older girl from school, or one of Opal’s college friends? Opal’s face didn’t show any sign of recognition.
The dark-haired girl smiled. “Maybe. I’m in here a lot.” She brushed her hair back, revealing her name tag: Saga. Sally had to squint to read it. It was bad enough having a face full of wrinkles and hair streaked gray, but was her eyesight going, too?
“Saga.” Sally stared at her. There was something not quite genuine about Saga, like she was going through the motions of appearing friendly and engaged.
“Umm, we’re here about a defective book?” Opal tried to take the book out of Sally’s arms, but Sally held onto it tighter until she remembered why they’d come to Powells.
“Right. I need to speak to someone about returning this book.” Sally gestured with the thick volume in her hands, then pulled it back toward her chest. “I bought it here last month. It was a special order. I didn’t keep the receipt.”
“The book is defective?” Saga rested her elbows on the desk.
“Defective?” Sally glanced at the book in her hands and frowned. “Well, actually, yes.” She looked Saga directly in the eye. “Yes, purely and entirely defective.”
“May I?” Saga reached for the book, and Sally reluctantly let it go. She inched closer to the counter as Saga turned the book over in her hands, examining the binding.
Sally nudged Opal and nodded at the bookstore clerk. “Saga,” she whispered, but all she got from Opal was a blank look.
Sally couldn’t place the girl’s face, but she’d instantly recognized the name. Saga was the Norse goddess of history. Maybe the clerk’s parents were Norse or Teutonic witches? Maybe they could help?
Sally smiled, and laugh lines creased the edges of her mouth. Just that morning she’d cast her spell to awaken the slumbering gods. She felt sure this young woman’s name tag was a sign.
This struck Sally as suddenly very funny. Her laughter burst out of her, and she held her hands over her mouth.
Saga glanced up with raised eyebrows. Even Opal looked at her strangely.
“It’s just that, well, that book is kind of about you.�
� Sally gestured toward the volume in Saga’s hands. “You know, Saga? The Viking goddess? There’s a lot in that book about her. Maybe your parents like mythology?”
Saga stared at Sally, then went back to examining the volume.
Opal leaned close to Sally. “Might want to lay off the magick references.”
Sally shrugged, not liking the way both her slicker and her aged skin hung loose at her shoulders. Baron squirmed and mewled pitifully inside her backpack. Sally hugged the bag to her chest and tried to pet her cat through the ballistic material.
“There’s some wear along the spine.” Saga held up the book for Sally to see. “Looks like normal creasing, given the age of the book.”
“It’s not the outside that’s the problem.” Sally reached forward and turned the pages of the book as Saga held it. She flipped to page 240.
Sally pointed to the page numbers on the left and right facing pages. “Missing pages.”
Saga nodded, not looking up.
“And here.” Sally turned more pages. “Six more missing here.” She flipped farther forward in the book. “And twelve pages missing here! There are some other places, but those are the worst. It’s dangerous to have that kind of material missing!”
“Dangerous, you say.” Saga studied Sally, then closed the book and put it down on the counter. She turned to the employee beside her. “What do you think, Bonnie?”
Bonnie was probably nearing thirty and had the pointed peaks of what looked like an angular, Celtic knot—dark red ink against olive skin—peeking out from beneath the collar of her mock turtleneck. She looked up from the computer and glanced first at Sally and then at Saga who directed her attention to the leather-bound book on the counter.
“I’m the Customer Service Manager, ma’am. Bonnie Radcliffe.” Bonnie reached across the counter to shake Sally’s hand. “What can I do for you?”
Sally bristled at the introduction. Had she just been called ma’am? She must look worse than she’d thought. Opal elbowed her again.
“I’m Sally Dahl.” She gestured toward the book, then hesitated. Should she be telling people her real name when she looked like this? If she ran into someone she knew, would they even recognize her?
Sally swallowed. “I ordered this from Europe. It’s a rare book. There are lots of pages missing. I need those missing pages. Or another copy of the book. Maybe you have another one?”
“Let me see what we have available.” Bonnie turned to the computer and started typing.
Saga ran her fingers over the book’s cover. “You’re interested in runes?”
“Yes.” Sally sounded more defensive than she intended. “They’re, uh, kind of a hobby.”
“Mmm.” Saga stared silently at Sally. Opal turned toward one of the magazine racks, picked up a copy of Northwest Handyman, and pretended to read. Sally wanted to look away, but couldn’t. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her face felt hot. Was she having hot flashes, too? Or worse?
Dear gods! Sally whimpered silently and clutched her bag tighter. Am I having a heart attack? Baron protested against being squeezed, but Sally ignored him.
Saga finally dropped her gaze and went back to examining the book. A sigh of relief washed over Sally, but she still felt anxious adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Opal rested a hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, fine,” Sally choked.
“I know something about runes,” Saga offered, her focus on the pages of Rhythms of the Runes.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Dahl. We don’t have any other copies in our system.” Bonnie turned away from the computer and nodded toward the book. “If this was a special order, like you say, we might be able to find another copy for you with another bookseller. It would take some time, of course.”
“But I need those missing pages now!” Sally cried. “This is important!”
A few customers browsing nearby stopped and looked toward Customer Service. Bonnie leaned closer to Sally and lowered her voice.
“I understand you’re disappointed, Ms. Dahl. I would be, too, if I’d ordered a rare book only to find that it was missing so many pages. If you’d like, you can return the book and we’ll refund your money. And we can keep looking for another copy for you.” Bonnie gestured toward the computer terminal.
“Why don’t we do that?” Opal offered. “You can take some time to rest, and try again later.”
Fresh tears sprang to Sally’s eyes as she stomped her foot on the linoleum tiles. “No, it can’t wait! I need this book—all of it! It has to be today, Opal. Don’t you know what’s happening?”
Bonnie glanced quickly to Opal, who shook her head, then frowned at Sally. “No, ma’am. What is happening?”
Sally inhaled painfully and tried to get her heart rate under control. It wouldn’t do any good to make herself sick. She closed her eyes tight, hoping beyond hope that when she opened them again, she’d be back in her bedroom, where she’d awaken from this very strange dream, and then she could get back to work on saving the world.
“Ms. Dahl? Are you all right?”
With a pitiful moan, Sally opened her eyes and met Bonnie’s concerned gaze.
“No. I’m not all right. None of this is okay.” Sally gestured toward the book on the counter. “I need the missing pages to complete some very important work. I don’t even know how to tell you what a big deal this is. And Opal, I know you don’t really understand it either, and maybe that’s my fault for not trying to explain it to you or include you sooner. But it’s super huge. It’s literally of global importance.”
“Okay,” Bonnie responded with obvious suspicion.
Opal leaned against the counter. “Sally, come on.”
Sally gestured in the air above her. “See, the planets are in nearly perfect alignment with the constellations, and the Black Moon—the second New Moon in the month—is coming. This hasn’t happened before! And it all has to be timed down to the minute. It has to be perfect! But if I don’t have the right information, I might do it wrong. See? I mean, look at me! Do you see what’s happened?”
Sally felt light-headed. She stopped trying to pantomime constellations in the sky and leaned against the counter for support. Opal rested a hand on her back to steady her and when Sally looked up, she caught Saga watching with her head cocked to one side.
Sally’s face brightened. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? You said you know about runes, and with a name like Saga . . .”
Bonnie turned to Saga, but the younger woman shook her head and turned away.
“Sally, do you need a glass of water or something?” Opal asked. “Do you want to sit down?”
Sally sighed in exasperation. “Please, just help me get the missing pages. You’ve no idea how much I’ve put into this. How much it has taken out of me.” Sally looked at her skinny ankles sticking out of her Nikes. “This isn’t what I really look like. Opal can tell you. Something went wrong. I need those pages. I need to make this right. If I don’t get it done by 1:32 Sunday morning, everything will fall apart!”
Saga turned back around. “What did you say?”
Bonnie reached for the telephone on the counter. “You know what? I’m going to call someone I think can help.”
“Come on, Sally.” Opal was tugging her away from the Customer Service desk. “She’s calling security, you know.”
“No! Please.” Sally grabbed her book from the counter. “I’m not trying to cause trouble. Honest. This is just really, really important.”
“Apparently.” Bonnie put down the phone. “So, what do you want to do here? Do you want to return the book? Do you want us to try to find you another one?”
Sally wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. “No. There’s no time.” She squeaked out a hiccup, trying to swallow her tears. “I’ll have to figure out something else.”
“All right. You let us know if you change your mind.” Bonnie leaned forward on the counter. “We want you to be happy wit
h your book. If you want us to fix this, we will.”
“See? That’s good.” Opal nodded at Bonnie with a smile. “We can come back later and maybe have them start looking for another copy. Okay?”
Sally pressed her lips together and nodded. She glanced at Saga, who stood back and silently stared at her. Sally’s head was pounding, and she knew her nose was running. Sally backed away from the counter and opened her backpack to put the book back inside, shoving Baron out of the way to make room.
The cat mewled loudly and poked his head out of the backpack.
Bonnie shook her head vigorously. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you cannot have that cat in here. Only service animals are allowed inside the building.”
Sally dipped her chin. “It’s okay. I’m going.”
Baron fought as she pushed him back down into the bag, swatting at her fingers and growling in complaint.
“Baron,” Sally’s voice cracked. “Please, just cooperate.”
Opal put her arm around her friend’s shoulders and walked her a few paces away from the Customer Service desk.
“I’m sorry I lost it,” Sally sighed.
“It’s okay. You’re stressed out. You haven’t been sleeping. So you overcompensated and threw a tantrum? It happens.”
“I wasn’t exaggerating.” Sally tugged on the smoky quartz pendant around her neck and pressed her fingers against the engraved “R” shape. “You were with me when I got this necklace at the Equinox Expo. Raido. The journey rune.”
“I remember.”
“I’ve worn it every day since, tucked under my clothes so my parents won’t notice. I even wear it while I’m sleeping.”
“I don’t understand where you’re going with this.”
Sally forgot that her friend didn’t know nearly as much about runes as she did. She pulled Rhythms of the Runes back out of her bag and started flipping through the pages. “Here. I’ll show you.”
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