Horizontal is my new favorite plane.
She kisses me back and tangles her hand through my hair, letting the other hand trail down my back. I curse not removing my jacket before kissing her. The room begins to overheat. Or maybe it’s me.
Shifting her body, she wraps her legs around my thighs. Soft moans and murmurs escape her throat as we continue to kiss, letting our tongues spell out what words cannot.
Perhaps the key to surviving this curse or hex is to not speak and not be around others. We need a cabin in the woods. Somewhere remote like Maine or Vermont.
A phone buzzes and chimes with a text message. The annoying sound breaks our bubble.
Madison pulls her mouth away from mine. I groan and try to recapture her lips.
“I think that’s your phone.” Her voice is breathless.
“No one ever texts me.”
“Ever?” she asks as another text arrives.
Still grumbling, I reach inside my jacket, contemplating throwing the thing out the window. Sam’s name lights up the screen.
We’re ready. Update your ETA.
Right, the party.
I rest my forehead against hers. “I forgot we have reservations. We should probably go.”
Reluctantly I sit up and rest my back against the wall. Madison is a beautiful mess from my lips and hands. Her mouth is red and swollen and her hair is a tangled nest.
“I should probably fix this.” She attempts to run her fingers through her hair.
“You’re perfect.”
“I look ravished.”
“Like I said, perfect.”
With a soft laugh, she pecks my cheek before standing. “I’ll be right back.”
Sitting on her bed waiting for her, I feel my resolve grow stronger. I’m not letting some two-bit curse or broken spell ruin things between Madison and me.
While we wait for my mother to present our case to the coven, there’s no reason why we can’t hang out in person.
Other than every time we’re together I turn into some macho, asshole Neanderthal.
I don’t even deserve a cave to call my own. Honestly, I’d probably be banished to live alone and take my chances with the mastodons. An outcast even from cave society. How Madison continues to put up with me, I don’t know.
Still waiting on her to return from the bathroom, I stack the books on her bed. I notice they’re all about the Puritans who settled Massachusetts, including Cotton Mather’s book on the witch trials. Nothing like light reading on a Saturday night.
Madison comes back and I want to throw her down on the bed for another round. I’m about thirty seconds from thumping my chest like a gorilla and dragging her away like King Kong. I’m sure some women like the whole chest-pounding, grunting he-man act, but that’s not me. Worse, apparently it annoys Madison. That’s pretty much the opposite of what I want to do.
I need to quell my inner alpha and get her to the surprise party Sam’s throwing tonight. I’m not sure if Madison even likes surprises. She definitely doesn’t seem to like the surprise twist of my personality change.
Can’t blame her.
“Shall we?” I fake a gentlemanly smile, holding my arm out for her hand.
With one final kiss to the top of her head, I escort her to her twenty-first birthday.
Too busy pouting over my fate, I’ve completely forgotten the power of the date for her.
* * *
My only job tonight is to bring Madison to the Black Book where Sam has arranged for everyone to be waiting. Easy enough. Martha baked a Death by Chocolate cake and volunteered to host the party. Sam’s invited everyone she could think of who Madison might call a friend.
I know for a fact Hamilton hasn’t been invited.
Outside the black-painted clapboard house, we pause.
Madison questions my dinner location with a raised eyebrow. “Since when is Martha open for dinner?”
“I put in a special request.” I kiss her once, twice again before resting my hand on the door handle.
When I push open the door, the sound of bells jingling alerts the rest of the party. Shouts of, “Surprise!” quickly follow.
Panic and then delight flash across Madison’s face. “What did you do?”
“It’s all Sam’s doing if you’re looking for someone to blame.”
“I’m going to kill her.” Smiling, Madison walks inside.
Imagine my surprise when the lights flick on inside the dark interior of the café and Hamilton is lurking in the back of the crowd like an unwanted bear at a picnic.
Not only do my caveman instincts kick in, but a new sensation of insecurity threatens to overwhelm me.
“Why is he here?” Did she invite him? She laughed at his stupid pun in class this week. When I tighten the grip around her hand, she flexes her fingers between mine. I’m not sure if the gesture is intended to comfort or warn me.
“I have no idea.” Her smile remains plastered on her face as she whispers next to my ear.
Sam pushes her way through the crowd. “Happy birthday!”
“What’s all this?” Madison’s hold on my hand hasn’t lessened. I slide my fingers from hers and rest my hand on her lower back.
“It’s your birthday party, silly.” Sam points at the banner of triangles spelling out Madison above the birthday cake also bearing her name.
“Shouldn’t we be at a bar doing shots named after weird sexual acts?” Madison sounds relieved not to be at said bar.
“I figured you’d want something a little bit more classy.” Sam’s worried eyes meet mine. “We have champagne.”
“Madison?” I let my hand trail up her back and give her shoulder a squeeze.
“It’s wonderful.” Her eyes shine with tears. Oh, no. I’m not sure how to handle these tears without knowing if they’re happy or sad.
Tate steps around Sam to hug Madison. “Happy Birthday, M.”
His calming presence is welcome. The knot forming between my neck and shoulders lessens.
“Andrew, how’s it going?” Tate asks, but his eyes focus on a spot behind me.
I don’t need to turn around to tell Hamilton is sucking all the oxygen from the corner. “Good. Fine.”
He slaps my shoulder. “Glad to hear it.”
If he’s trying to absorb my bad mood, he’s once again failing. Still I smile at him and tug Madison closer.
Unfortunately, as the star of this party, everyone wants to wish her happy birthday. We stand near the cake while a never-ending stream of friends repeats the same two words. Most hug her. Some give me the side-eye while others, mostly women, ogle my hand on her shoulder. A few tipsy ones even tell her how hot I am. Loudly. Two feet away from me.
The invisibility scheme appears to still work if alcohol is involved.
I’m thinking we might survive the evening when a gruff laugh precedes Madison being lifted off the ground beside me.
In a flash the whole evening goes to shit.
“Put her down,” I bellow and shove Hamilton, which isn’t the smartest plan. He’s still holding her and both stumble to the side. Madison lands on her feet, but tilts into the cake table, sending both off balance for a second.
“Listen, Prince of Darkness—” Hamilton doesn’t finish the rest of his sentence because I shove him again.
Bad idea.
His fist flies toward my face and I don’t have time to duck. Too late I step back. I feel the impact on my face as I try to grab his arm with my left hand.
My right hand lands in something soft and squishy. Lifting my palm to my face, I see it covered in chocolate frosting. A fist-sized crater remains in the center of the cake, which I’ve just destroyed. Hamilton huffs and grumbles in front of me, rubbing his fist where his knuckles are red from their impact with my jaw. I may have started the fight, but he’s finished it. My pulse throbs in my jaw as I feel a dozen eyes staring at me.
“Please stop,” Madison pleads, tugging on my arm. “Everyone is staring.”
; Let them.
I hold up both of my hands. “It’s stopped. I’m sorry.”
A few tears spill from her eyes and slide down her cheeks, leaving faint black streaks on her skin. I move to brush them away with my thumbs, but she shakes her head, stopping me.
“I’ve ruined your party. I’m sorry.” My anger dissipates. Not caring about the frosting, I dejectedly stuff my fists into my jacket pockets. My fingertips brush against a small box in the left pocket. Madison’s present. I know better than to give it to her now and have it forever be linked with my bad behavior. “I’m going to go.”
No one stops me as I shoulder my way through the crowd toward the door. With my head down, I force myself not to glance back. The cold night air stings against the bruise forming on my jaw. I poke the tender skin to remind myself how low I’ve sunk.
Light spills on the sidewalk when the door opens behind me. “Andrew!”
* * *
“Andrew. Please stop,” Madison calls out from behind me.
I’m helpless to ignore her, but I know whatever I say next will ruin us. I let my head fall forward, avoiding her eyes.
Staring at her black boots and tights, I do the last thing I ever imagined. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. You deserve better than me. Someone normal and who can treat you right.”
Ignoring my words, she steps closer and brushes her fingers against mine. “Shh, you don’t mean it.”
I nod. “I do mean it. Every word. You don’t deserve to be with a guy who ruins your birthday because of some misplaced jealous rage. No one should ever put up with behavior like mine.”
Her voice wavers and breaks. “It’s not you. I know it’s not you. It’s some weird Mercury in retrograde, Saturn alignment mumbo-jumbo nonsense.”
“How can you not believe in curses after the last few weeks?” I’m stunned she’s still doubting.
“I’m not sure what I believe. Tricks and illusions, maybe, but none of this makes sense. Ageless godfathers, animal shape shifters, and magical abilities don’t exist in the real world I’ve lived in my whole life. Why should I believe any of this?”
Incredulous, I lift my eyes to study her face. Emotions struggle in her deep brown eyes. She’s battling to ignore the evidence before us. Belief and logic are at war in her mind.
She finally speaks. “I agree I can’t give you a logical explanation, but there must be a simple reason for your personality change. You could be having issues with too much testosterone. Food allergy? Or someone is poisoning you? My ancestor Mary Bradbury could no more change her shape than Mistoffelees can stand up on his hind legs and do a jig.”
“Clearly you’ve never seen Cats the musical.” My lame attempt at humor bombs and settles near my feet, along with any hope I have of making things right with her. At least right now. “You sound like the scholars who blame the rye or hallucinations for the witch hysteria. Perhaps I’ve been hexed to become an asshole when we’re in public? I hate how I act around you, but I can’t seem to stop it. Until I can get myself under control or break the curse, I should stay away. For both of us.”
“This is temporary, right?” She tugs on my hand, silently begging me to fight for us.
I don’t speak, because I can’t lie to her.
“Are you breaking up with me?” Her bottom lip trembles and she rolls it into her mouth to hide the fact.
“It’s the last thing I want to do.” Pain claws at my chest. I won’t add my tears to hers.
“That’s not a no.”
I take both her hands in mine. “You shouldn’t want to be with a guy like me. You know this. Hell, you kneed Hamilton in the balls for less. Don’t make excuses for my behavior because it’s me. I’m just a guy.”
“We can’t break up. We’ve only barely started dating. We like each other. How can this be it?” Her voice drops to a whisper. Tears shine in her dark eyes.
“It just is.” I struggle to not add “for now” at the end of my sentence. This isn’t who I am. I’m not a fighter or irrationally jealous of every other man in a five mile radius. I will figure out a way to change. I need to solve this before I do more damage or ruin us forever. The thought of physically harming her sickens me. I have to protect her. From myself.
I kiss the corner of her mouth and extract my fingers from where they’re entwined with hers.
This time I don’t look back or pause when I hear her call my name again.
Nine
After my last episode on her birthday, I’ve avoided Madison completely for three weeks.
It was one of the worst nights of my life and I’ve stayed away after seeing the sad resignation in her eyes.
Dr. Philips has been allowing me to skip class as long as I turn in my papers and keep a journal for my thoughts and feelings. He thinks he’s some sort of psychologist as well as my godfather and professor
Mom and Madison have continued to meet, but somehow I resist the daily urge to ask any questions about their progress. Mom gives me cryptic updates. Yesterday she told me about the diminished light of Madison’s heart chakra. In new age speak, I think that means Madison misses me as much as I miss her. I touch the sharp, faceted crystal in my pocket. Known for its cleansing properties, Mom said Madison picked the small smokey quartz during one of their lessons. The gesture gives me a glimmer of hope and I carry it with me everywhere.
Despite all evidence over the six weeks since Halloween, I’m not a troglodyte-asshole-jerk. Not even close.
Chest thumping, barely containing the urge to throw her over my shoulder, and starting fights because I’m flooded with Hulk testosterone isn’t me. I took it too far and got into my first fight.
Not me.
The cursed version of me.
Please let it be the curse and not some latent personality flaw that only comes out when I really like a girl. How lame would that be?
My footsteps softly crunch small twigs and dead leaves as I make my way deeper into the woods. A light snow filters through the bare branches of the trees lining the path and dusts the ground with white, softening the voices ahead of me.
The winter solstice is still a week away, but I’m feeling confident I can break the curse and stop being the human version of a poisonous frog. I’ve spent weeks studying the old texts and working with my mother, trying to figure out the how and why of my behavior.
If darkness invoked this hex, then we’ll use ancient magic to fight it.
My simple plan involves a small gathering from the coven, a pair of glasses, fire, tonight’s first snow, a full moon, and Madison.
Convincing her to come out to the woods with me at midnight because there’s a full moon was the trickiest part of this idea. Thankfully my mother still believes in true love and refuses to give up on us. She listened to my plan and promised Madison would be here.
As I approach the clearing, light from candles and cell phones breaks the darkness. People cluster in small groups, speaking softly. No one is wearing black robes, but I spot a few dark hoodies and jeans. Disappointment tugs at my mood. Something as important as my future should require full traditional garb. Is it too much to ask for some pomp and circumstance to deal with suspected dark magic? If not tonight, when?
I spy my mother’s red chopstick pierced bun in the middle of a group of gray-haired men and women near the tree line. In the dim light the familiar sticks in my mother’s hair seem to glow. I keep to the edge of the circle, avoiding having to make conversation with anyone. Tonight may be focused on me, but that doesn’t mean I want to be the center of attention.
I sniff the air for dill and am relieved when I can’t smell any. Although I’m not sure if I’ve grown immune to it after all these weeks.
Philips’ mop of gray hair pokes out from beneath a knitted beanie hat. He nods a greeting at me, but I don’t stop to speak with him. I scan the crowd for Madison’s red coat. An unlit pyre of wood centers the clearing and I head toward it, figuring it will give me the best view of the gathered coven. The Par
ker and Good sisters, Mrs. Howe, Mr. and Mrs. Wardwell, and old man Bishop stand around holding steaming cups. A few of them acknowledge me with nods of their heads, lifting their mugs, or small waves. The coven members have known me my entire life. These people are my mother’s family, her sisters and brothers. For an only child of an only child, I have a lot of aunts and uncles.
Philips steps out from the crowd and makes his way over to me. Once he’s within a few feet, he asks me how I’m doing.
“Are you ready?” He pats my arm.
I’ve never performed magic in front of the coven before. Of course they all know the rumors about my powers, but none have witnessed my fire starting abilities in person.
Rolling my shoulders, I nod. “Not really.”
Mom cuts through the crowd into the open. A flash of red follows behind her.
Madison.
“Focus on what you really want. The rest should crumble and fall away …” Philips says something more but his words fade into silence as I stare at Madison. I haven’t seen her in weeks. It might as well be months.
I take a step closer to her, but Mom steps between us. “After.”
Abruptly I stop as if being pushed back. “Okay, no need to use magic.”
Mom lifts an eyebrow. “If not tonight, when?”
A calm energy cloaks my back and I turn to see Tate standing behind me. “You too?”
He shrugs. “Figured it couldn’t hurt, even if you’ve been immune to me for over a month.”
“Maybe it’s a good sign Tate can affect you again.” Madison finally speaks.
The familiar urge to sweep her into my arms returns, but it’s not as intensely. Instead I lean down to whisper in her ear so only she can hear. “I’ve missed you.”
Her smile barely moves her lips. I see hope and fear mix in her dark eyes. “Me too.”
“Don’t give up on me”
“I believe in us.” She brushes her fingers along mine and I can feel the sensation jolt through my body as if she shocked me. This is the first touch we’ve exchanged since her birthday. “Believe in yourself.”
Spellbound: A magical sequel to Bewitched Page 6