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Jessica
Jessica
Jessica
Jessica
Jessica
Jessica
Jessica
Derrick
Jessica
Jessica
Derrick
Jessica
Jessica
Derrick
Jessica
Jessica
Jessica
Derrick
Jessica
Jessica
Derrick
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Jessica
Jessica
Derrick
Jessica
Derrick
Jessica
Derrick
Jessica
Jessica
Jessica
Derrick
Jessica
Jessica
Derrick
Jessica
Derrick
Jessica
Jessica
Jessica
Jessica
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor
PraiseforMegCabot
AlsobyMegCabot
Copyright
AboutthePublisher
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Contents
JessicaContentWarning
Someunethicaluseofmagic.Sexualreferencesandscenes.Mildstalkingandmagicalviolence.Mentionsoftheexecutionof
personsaccusedofwitchcraftfourhundredyearsago.Magicspells(ofNorthernEuropeanorigin).
Disclaimer
Theauthorcannotanddoesnotguaranteeanyspecificresultsfromtheuseofspellsinthisbook.Neverusemagicinthe
placeofcompetentprofessionalhelp.
Jessica
TohonortheMotherGoddess,thegiveroflifeandcreatorofallthings,celebrateherbountyintheFall,whenherfruits
aremostplentiful.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
“Yourmotherismagic.”
That’swhatmyfathertoldmeonedaywhenIwasnine,andhadbeensenttomyroomforbeingdisrespectful.
Idon’tremembernowexactlywhatI’dsaid.Nineistheagewhentroublecanstartforsomanygirls—butit’snotnecessarily
ourfault.We’rebestfriendswithsomeoneoneminute,thenbyrecesswe’vebeenreplaced.Usuallywehavenoideawhy.Meanwhile,
ourbabyteetharebeingpushedoutofourheadbyouradultteeth,yetwe’restillyoungenoughtobelieveinunicorns.It’s
adizzying,disquietingtime.
But9isalsooneofthemostpowerfulnumbersintheworldofwitchcraft.Itrepresentsselflessness,humanitarianism,compassion,
andgenerosity—allthequalitiesagoodwitchaspirestopossess.
OfcourseIdidn’tknowanyofthiswhenIwasnine.AllIknewthenwasthatIwasmiserable,andIwastakingitoutonthepersonwhomeantmoretomethananyoneelseintheworld—mymother.
“Whatdoyoumean,Momismagic?”I’daskedmyfathersuspiciously.
“Imeanthatifyou’rerespectfulanddowhatyourmothersays,”mygeekybookkeeperfatherexplained,sittingsoawkwardly
ontheedgeofmypinkcanopybed,“shecanmakelifereallyeasyforyou.Butifyoutreatherbadly,likeyoudidtoday—well,
thingsaren’tgoingtogosogreat.”
It’stherarenine-year-oldwhowouldrealizethatherdadwasonlytryingtoexpresshisownfeelingsforhiswife—awoman
hewassodeeplyinlovewith,hedid,insomeways,thinkshewasmagical.Mydad,whoknewthatIlovedfairytalesand
princesses,wassimplytryingtoexplaintomeinwordshethoughtI’dunderstandthatifIstoppedtakingmygrowingpains
outonmypoormother,lifewouldimprove.
HecouldhavenowayofknowingthatI’dtakehimliterally—thatinmynine-year-oldbrain,hypeduponNarniaandDisney,allIheardwasthatmymotherwasmagic,whichmadeherawitch…andthatmademeawitch,too.
Ourfamily,Ideduced,mustbedescendedfromalonglineofwitches—powerfulones,probably,whocouldreadminds,castcurses,
andfly.Soon,becauseofmymagicmother,I’dbelearningtofly,too.
Ofcoursenothingwasfurtherfromthetruth.Mymother’speoplewerehardworkingItalianimmigrantswho’darrivedintheUnitedStatesattheturnofthetwentiethcentury—sameasmyfather’s,onlyhisfamilyhadcomefromMinsk.TheclosestanyofthemevergottoanythingremotelywitchywaswhenmyparentsmovedfromNewYorkCitytothesmalltownofWestHarbor,Connecticut,toopenanantiqueshop.WestHarborwasonlyahundredandfiftymilessouthofSalem,Massachusetts—thoughmyfamilynevertraveledthere.
BythetimeIwasoldenoughtofigureoutthatmyfatherhadn’tmeanthiswordsliterally,itwastoolate:I’dreadeverything
Icouldabout“theCraft”inthelibraryandontheInternet(which,inthosedaysofdial-up,wasquiteanaccomplishment
forakid),andwaswellonmywaytofull-blownSabrinatheTeenageWitch–hood,thoughIneverdidlearntofly.
ButbythenIdidn’tcare.AlthoughIknowsomepeople—especiallythosebelongingtotheWorldCouncilofWitches—woulddisagree,
youdon’thavetobedescendedfromawitchtopracticemagic.Anyonecaneffectchangebyusingtheenergywithinandaround
them.It’sallabouttheirwillandawareness…andintentions,ofcourse.
Andsincethatdayinmybedroom,myintentionshavebeennothingbutpure.I’veneverwantedanythingexcepttobethebest
goodwitchthatIcanbe.
Sothesummerbeforemysenioryearofhighschool,whenMombroughthomeanancient—butamazing—bookfromanestatesale,
Ibeggedhertoletmekeepit,ratherthansellitinhershop.Sooldthebindinghadcomelooseandtheedgesofitshandwritten
pageswereclosetocrumbling,thebooksmelledofvanillaandlavenderandsecrets.AsIcarefullyturnedthepagesandspotted
wordslike“lover,”“waxing,”and“threefold,”myheartbegantopound.
MomandIweregettingalongmuchbetterbythenbecauseI’drealizedmyfatherhadbeenright:mymotherwasmagic…justnotthekindofmagicIthoughthe’dmeant.Mymotherwasmagiclikeallmothersaremagic:shelovedme
unconditionally.
AndIlovedherrightback…enoughnottoworryherbytellingherthetruth.
“Ofcourseyoucanhaveit,sweetie,”she’dsaid,kissingmeairilyonthetopofmyhead.“Thoughwhyyouwantit,Ican’timagine.It’sjustanoldPuritanrecipebook.Areyougoingtostartmakingpottagestewforusnow?”
“Maybe,Mom,”I’dsaid,carefullyturningthepagesofGoodyFletcher’sBookofUsefulHouseholdTips.“MaybeIwill.”
Jessica
JournalEntryfrom2005
Captivatethylovebypreparingapottagestew,andthenconsumingitbeforehim.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
Todayistheday.Ithastobe.DinasaidsheoverheardRosalieHopkinslastnightatDairyQueensayshe’sgoingtoaskBilly
WalkertotheHomecomingdance.
Ifthathappens,Billywillsayyes,andI’llneverhaveachancewithhim.Ican’tcompetewithRosalie.Herdadownsthe
biggestluxurycardealershipinthetristatearea(asshenevermissesanopportunitytoremindeveryone).Plusshegives
blowjobsonthefirstdate.
NotthatI’mjudgingherforit.I’mnot,atall
It’sjustthatsinceIspentlastsemesterdoingstudyabroadinEurope,Ifoundoutafewthings—andIdon’tmeanhowmuch
betterthebreadisinFrance.Imeanhowintimaterelationsareactuallysupposedtowork.
SonowwhenIgodownonsomeone,Iexpecttobegonedownuponinreturn.
Istronglysuspect,however,thatBillyWalkerhasnoideahowtoorallypleasureawoman.
Thisisn’thisfault,ofcourse.Sexualeducationinthiscountryisadisgrace.
Butthat’sokay.Idon’tactuallymindthatImighthavetospendmanyhoursteachingBilly—slowlyandcarefully—howtoproperly
satisfyawoman.
Whichremindsme:anotherreasonithastobetodayisthattonightisthefullmoon.AccordingtoGoodyFletcher’sbook,
lovespellsarethemostpowerfulwhenconductedunderamoonthat’sgrowingfuller(sothat“hislovefortheewillgrow
apace”).
SoI’veonlygotabouttwelvehourstogetthisdone,orI’llhavetowaitawholemonth,bywhichtimeRosaliewilldefinitely
havealreadygottenherlipsalloverBilly.
Fortunatelywehadalltheingredients—orthemostimportantones,anyway,accordingtothebook—inthefridge.Solastnight,
whileMomandDadwereatEthan’ssoccergame,Ivisualizedmyownattractivenessandlovabilitywhilechoppingthemupand
cookingthemtogether.
TheonlyproblemisthattheinkGoodyFletcherusedissofaded(and,tobehonest,hercursivesospideryandhardtodecipher
inplaces),Icouldn’talwaysreadthewords.
I’mprettysurethisdoesn’tmatter,however,sincemagicisn’taboutyourtools,butyourintentions.Whichisgoodsince
IhaveonlythebestintentionstowardBillyand,accordingtoGoodyFletcher,I’msupposedto“rubgarlicroundawooden
bowl,theneatthepottagefromit”infrontofthepersonI’mhopingtoattract.
ButI’mnotabouttostandinfrontofBillyWalkerinthecafeteriaandeatpottagestewoutofawoodenbowlrubbedingarlic.AsDinarightfullypointedout,inalltheyearswe’vegonetoschooltogether,BillyandIhavenevereatenatthesamelunchtable.He’salwayssatwiththejocks,andI’vealwayssatwithDinaandtherestoftheemosandgoths.It’sgoingtolookweirdenoughwhenIcasuallystrollovertohistable,eatingstewoutofawoodenbowlfromhomeinsteadofpizzaoffapaperplatefromthehotfoodline.
Also,IhaveChemclasswithhimrightafterlunch.Iwanttoenticehim,notdisgusthimwithmygarlicbreath.
Soit’sano-garlicpottagestewoutofTupperwareforme.
Ireallyhopemyintentionsprovestrongandpureenoughforthisspelltowork.Idon’tknowhowmuchlongerIcangoon
beingBilly’slabpartnerandnothingmore,whenalltheseyearsI’velovedhim.AndheandRosaliewouldbesowrongfor
eachother,it’sactuallygross.
Jessica
Keepoutunwelcomeguests(fromevilspiritstogardenslugs)bysprinklingalittlesaltacrossthythreshold.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
Ishouldhaveknown.Ishouldhaveputittogetherrightaway,whatwithallthesignstheuniversewaspracticallyhurling
atme:Floods.Fire.Thereturnofneon.
Butasusual,Iwasclueless.Socluelessthatwhenthetallguydressedallinblackwanderedinoffthesidewalkduring
myannual“FallintoFallApparel”sale,Ididn’tthinktwice.
WhywouldI?Imean,yes,thesignoutsidemyshophasthewordsEnchantments:AWomen’sClothingBoutiquecarvedintoitinbroadhandcalligraphy(thenpaintedingoldleafformaximumimpact).
ButIgetmalecustomersallthetime.SoIdidn’tevencatchonwhen,insteadofglancingaroundatalltheextremelytasteful
(ifIdosaysomyself)racksofdresses,blouses,leggings,jackets,scarves,andjewelry,thisguysimplystoodtherein
thedoorwayandstared.
Atme
Wegetallkindsduringleafpeepingseason,sothisdidn’tstrikemeasodd.Itwaskindofflattering,infact,becausethisguywassexylooking,andapparentlyalone.Therewasn’taringonhisweddingfinger,either.Nice,Ithought.
“Well,Mrs.Dunleavy,”Isaid,turningtothemayor’swife—andmybestcustomer.Wewerestandinginfrontofthefull-length
mirrorbesidethedressingroomdoors.Iwasn’ttryingtohurryher,butsexysingleguysdon’twalkintomyshopandstare
atmeeveryday.“Howdoyoufeelinthisone?”
MargoDunleavy,asalways,sigheduncertainlyatherreflection.“Ijustdon’tknow,Jess.Doyouthinkit’salittle…”
Sheloweredhervoicesothatthehotguyinthedoorway,clearlyeavesdroppingonusinalow-keykindofway,wouldn’toverhear.
“…risqué?”
“Absolutelynot.”Istraightenedthehemoftheclose-fitting—andslightlyrevealing—burgundysilkgown.“It’stheWestHarbor
TricentennialBall.Whenwillthereeverbeanotheroccasionlikethis?Notforthreehundredmoreyears.”
Itriedtoignorethefactthatmyreflectioninthemirrorwasn’tnearlyasflatteringatthemomentasthatofthemayor’s
wife.Foronething,Iwasn’twearingapracticallybespokeeveninggown.Andforanother,I’dbeenworkinghardsinceearly
morninggettingthingsreadyfortheblow-outsale,somydarkcurlsweresecuredtothetopofmyheadwithaplasticclaw
clip,mycheekswerepinkanddampwithsweat,andIwaswearingajumpsuit—inneonyellow
That’sbecausejumpsuitsforwomenmysize—fivefootnineandtwohundredpounds—selloutinminutesinallthegoodcolors.
Ihavetosaveallthebestcolors(black,obviously)formycustomers.
AtleastI’drememberedtotieoneofthecutesilkscarvesfromournewfloralprintlinearoundmyneck.Butstill,IlookedlikewhatIfelt:asleep-deprived,slightlycranky,full-figuredthirtysomethingwitchinaneonyellowjumpsuit.
ButmaybethosewereallthethingsHotDoorwayGuylookedforinagirl?Ithadbeensolongsinceanyoneatallhadbeen
interestedinme,I’dtakeaguywholikedneon,solongashewasgainfullyemployedandchewedwithhismouthclosed.
“Andthisdressfitsyoulikeaglove,”IpointedouttoMrs.Dunleavy.“It’slikeitwasmadeforyou.”
Because,althoughthemayor’swifedidn’tknowit,thedresshadbeenmadeforher—well,tailored,anyway.Becauseassoonasitarrived,I’dsetitaside,knowingitwouldbeperfectfor
her—withafewlittleadjustmentsofmyown.
“Oh.”Theolderwomanfingeredthedelicateclothlonginglyasshegazedatherreflection.“Ihavetosay,Idoloveit.
Andthepriceisjustright,asalways.ButRosalieHopkinsandsomeofthoseotherwomenfromtheYachtClub—”
MyvoicewassharperthanIintendedittobe.“Whataboutthem?”
“Well,Ijustwouldn’twantthemtothinkIwas”—hervoicedippedevenlower—“puttingonairs.”
“Whocareswhatanyoneelsethinks?”ThemereallusiontoRosalieHopkins—nottomentiontheYachtClub—wasenoughtocause
metomomentarilyforgetmyfatigue,aswellasHotDoorwayGuy.MargoDunleavywasoneofthesweetestwomeninWestHarbor,
but,likesomanycaretakers,shealwaysputothersbeforeherself.Theupcomingballwastheperfecttimeforhertoshine,
ifonlyshe’dletmedomyjobandmakeithappen.“Ifyoufeelgoodinit,that’sallthatcounts.”
“Well.”Mrs.Dunleavychewedworriedlyatherlowerlip.“Isupposethat’strue.Rosaliesaysshe’sgoingintothecitytobuyhergown.”Margo’sgazemetmineinthemirror.“WhichItoldherisamistake!”sheaddedquickly.“Supportlocalbusinesses.Youknowthat’salwaysbeenoneofourcampaignslogans.”
“Thankyouforthat.Iwonderifthiswillhelp.”IdrapedanavycrepedechineshawlaroundMrs.Dunleavy’sbareshoulders.
Dottedwithcrystalsthatshimmeredwhentheycaughtthelight,theshawlbroughtoutthesilverintheolderwoman’shair,
aswellasthesparkleinherdarkeyes.“Nowwhatdoyouthink?”
MargoDunleavycaughtherbreathand,rightthereinthemirror,atransformationseemedtotakeplace.Suddenly,shewas
standingtaller,hershouldersthrownback,hercheeksaglowwithacolorthathadn’tbeentherebefore
…andIknewI’dworkedthemagicI’dbeenhopingfor.
“Oh,Jess!”shecried.“Iloveit!”
“Doyou?”Ibeamed.ThiswasthepartIlovedbestaboutmyjob—whatmadeallthelatenightsandhardworkworthit.“I’m
soglad.Andagain,notthatitmatterswhatanyonethinksbutyou,butI’msureMrs.Mayorwillloveit,too.”
“Oh,Ithinkyou’reright.I’lltakeit.I’lltakethemboth,thedressandthe…the…whateverthisbluethingis.”
“Great.We’llwrapthemupforyou.”Iwasgrinning—untilmygazereturnedtothedoorwayofmyshop,andIcaughtsightof
myafternoonvisitoronceagain.Hewasstilllookingmyway—butunlikeme,definitelynotsmiling
Andthat’swhen,forthefirsttime,InoticedthatHotDoorwayGuyhadabrightsilveramulethangingfromablackleather
cordaroundhisneck—anamuletIrecognizedimmediatelyoncehesteppedoutofthedoorwayandsomeofthebrightafternoon
sunlightspilledinfrombehindhim.
No.Thatwasmyfirstthought.Justno
WhatdidtheWorldCouncilofWitcheswantwithme?TheirbylawsmadeitveryclearthatIdidn’tqualifyformembership—notthatIcaredtojointheirultra-exclusionaryclub.
Andchoosingclothesforwomenthatmadethemfeelsexyandconfidentcouldn’tpossiblycountasaviolationofusingmagicwithout—
“JessicaGold?”DoorwayGuysaid,insuchadeepvoicethatnearlyeverycustomerintheshopspunaroundcuriouslytolook
athim,andthen—theoneswhoknewme,atleast—atme.
Andthoughtheexpressiononhisfacewascarefullyneutral,myheartstartedbanginginmychest.
Run,Ithought.Run.
Butwhere?EarlierthatmorningI’dproppedopentheshop’sfrontdoortowelcomeinnotonlythecrispautumnbreeze,but
themanyout-of-townerswho’dcomefromthecitytolookattheleaves,whichhadrecentlypeakedincolor,settingtheforested
hillsidesaroundConnecticut’sGoldCoastablazeinbrilliantswathesofred,gold,andorange.
ButnowastouristsstrolleddownthePostRoadpastEnchantments’openfrontdoorandpeekedinside,alltheycouldseewas
thisguy’sbroad-shoulderedbackashestaredatme,refusingtobudgeuntilIspokewithhim—andblockingmyonlypathof
escape.
Great.SonotonlywasIbeingheldhostagebyamemberoftheWCW,Iwaslosingpotentialsales,aswell.
It’sreallynowonderwitcheshavesuchabadreputation.
Fine.Iwasn’tgoingtorun.EvenifIhadsomewheretogo,thatwouldbeundignified.
“Uh,Becca,”Isaidtomytrustysalesassistant.“CouldyouringupMrs.Dunleavy’spurchasesaftershe’schanged?Ihave
tomeetwiththis,er,gentlemanhereforafewmoments.”
Gentleman.Yeah,right.
“Ofcourse.”Becca’sdarkeyeswerewidewithcuriosityandconcernasshewatchedthetallstrangerfollowmeintomysmall,clutteredofficeinthebackoftheshop—curiositybecauseshe’dneverseenthismanbefore,andconcernbecause…well,myofficewasawell-knowndisasterarea,andI’dneverallowedanyoneintherebefore—anyoneexceptEnchantmentsemployeesandPye,mycatandourofficialshopmascot.
“Sorry,”ImutteredasIliftedapileofunpricedbralettesinordertomakeroomforhimontheoffice’sonlyvisitor’s
chair.
Sincetherewasnoplacetoputthelacybralettes,however,duetothepilesofothermerchandise,nottomentionthebags
ofcandyI’dbought(andalreadybegunsnackingon)togiveoutduringthePostRoad’sHalloweenTrick-or-Treating,Icould
onlysetthemonthedeskinfrontofme..
WhichmeantthatIwasnowgoingtohavetohaveameetingwithamemberofanassociationthatbilleditselfas“theworld’s
largestprofessionalorganizationmeanttoadvancethecommoninterestsofwitches”overapileofladiesundergarments.
ButthenIremindedmyselfthatIdidn’tcare.Therewasnothingformetobeembarrassedaboutorashamedof.Womenneeded
stylish,comfortablebras,andtherewasn’tanythingabouthisorganizationthatadvancedmyinterests.
“Look,Mr.,er,”Ibegan.
“It’sDerrick,”HotDoorwayGuysaid.“DerrickWinters.”
Thatthrewme.WhoeverheardofaWCWmembernamedDerrick?Mostofthemwereproudthattheycouldtracetheir“magick”lineagebacktoColonialtimes,orevenearlier.Theyallhad
nameslikeElizabethCarringtonorJohnAyresor,inthecaseofWestHarbor’slocalrep,RosalieHopkins.
HotDoorwayGuydidn’tevenlooklikeamemberoftheWorldCouncilofWitches,exceptfortheamulet.Helooked…well,
morelikesomeonewhohuntedwitches:tall,dressedallinblack,lankyasacowboy,butwearingbikerboots—ararityinthisaffluentpartofConnecticut—withlongblondhairtiedbackintoalowmessyknotatthenapeofhisneck,severaldays’growthofwhiskers,andangularfeatures.Hisslate-grayeyesseemedtobejudgingallmysinsatonce:thedisorganizedoffice,openbagsofHalloweencandy,theyawningwindowbehindme(forPyetoleapinandoutofasheconductedhispatrolsbetweenmyhouseandtheshop),andofcourse,thejumpsuit.
Still,theamuletdidn’tlie.Itwasaslimcrescentmoonattachedtoafullmoon,adesignwornbyallmembersoftheWCW
(whichI’dneverbe),representingGaia,theGreekgoddessofcreation.
Idecidedmybestdefensewastotaketheoffense.
“Well,look,Derrick,”Isaid.“Idon’tknowwhatthey’vetoldyouaboutme.AndIdon’tknowwhatyouthoughtyousawoutthere,either.But
Icanassureyou,itwasn’tmagic.”
Heraisedbothgoldenblondeyebrows.“Whatwasn’t?”
“Whatyousaw.Firstofall,Iwouldnever,evercastaspellonsomeonewithouttheirconsent.Atleast,notanymore.Spellscastasajuvenileshouldn’tcount,inmyopinion.”
Theeyebrowswentupevenmore,butbeforehehadachancetosayanything,Ibarreledon.
“IorderedthatdresswithMargoDunleavyinmind,andtheshawl,too.”Irubbedmyknuckles,rememberinghowI’dbeenup
sewingonthecrystalsuntilwellaftermidnight,knowingMrs.Dunleavywouldbecomingintoday.Myjointswerestillalittle
sore.“She’sthemayor’swife.ThistownishavingaballtocelebrateitsTricentennial—”
“Yes,Inoticed.Thebannershangingfromeverysinglestreetlampwerehardtomiss.”
Buthedidn’tsayitinanadmiringway.Hedeadpannedit,thecornersofhismouthturnedupintoasmirk.
IthoughtIknewwhathewasthinking—orwhatarationalpersonwouldbethinking,anyway.IforgotforamomentthatWCWmembersaren’trational.
“Yeah,”Isaid.“Iknow.And,fortherecord,I,too,amagainstcelebratingthethreehundredthanniversaryofthetheft
oflandfromitsindigenouspeople.”
Whenhiseyebrowsonlyfurrowedatthis,Iwenton,quickly,“ButthetowncouncildecidedthatifwethrewaTricentennial
FestivaltheweekendofHalloween,completewithaballinthevillagesquare,peoplewouldshowup,andwe’dmakealotof
money.Anditturnsouttheywereright—ticketsfortheballaretwohundreddollarsapop,andthey’resellingfast.Mrs.
DunleavyoutthereistheonewhoproposedthatthesalesgotoWestHarborschools’artsandmusicdepartmentsinsteadof
beautifyingthebeachneartheYachtClub.”Itriedtokeeptheself-satisfactionoutofmyvoiceoverthisturnofevents,
sinceRosalieHopkinswastheonewho’dmadetheYachtClubbeachproposal.“Butthat’showMargoDunleavyis—shegoesout
ofherwaytodokindthingsforpeople.Shedoesn’tevenhavekids!That’swhyIthoughtitwouldbeniceifshehadsomething
reallyspectaculartoweartotheball.ButIdon’tcastglamoursonmycustomers.Ever.SoyoucangobackandtelltheCouncilthey’rewastingtheirtime.Ihaven’tbrokentheirrules.”
SatisfiedI’dputhiminhisplace,IleanedbackinmychairandthoughtaboutrewardingmyselfwithaminiatureSnickers
bar,butdecideditwouldn’tbedignified.
“Well,”Derrickreplied,slowly.“That’sallgoodtoknow.Butthat’snotwhyI’mhere.”
“Really?”Iwasshocked.FromwhatI’dreadonthevariousspellworkingmessageboardsIbelongedto,theWCWwasalwaysstickingitsnosewhereitwasn’tneeded,muchlesswanted.“Whyareyouhere,then?”Suddenlyrealizationhit,andIslammedbothmyhandsdownoneithersideofthepileofbrasandpushedmyselfuptomyfeet.“Waitaminute.Youcan’tbetellingmeI’montheCouncil’sshitlistforsomethingIdidmorethanadecadeago,whenIwasonlyateenager?”
“Ms.Gold,”Derricksaid,hiseyebrowsraisedagain.“Ithinkyououghttositdown.”
“It’sJessica.OrJess.Andno,Iwon’tsitdown.Justbecauseyouuptightwand-clutcherscantraceyourmagiclineageback
toyourancestorsontheMayflower,youthinkyou’resosuperiortotherestofus.Well,letmetellyousomethingthatnooneelsehasprobablyeverhadthe
gutsto:Hereditarywitchcraft?Thatisn’tathing.There’snogeneticmarkerformagic.Everyonehaspsychicability.Somepeoplearesimplymoreintouchwithitthanothers,andthat’sbecausethey’veworkedatit.They’vehonedandpracticedtheircraft.That’sallthereistoit.Havingarelativewhowashangedforwitchcraft
inthesixteenhundredsdoesn’tmakeyouanymoreofa—”
“Ms.Gold.”Theleatherofhismotorcyclejacketcreaking,Derrickreachedacrossmydeskandlaidahanduponmyshoulder.
“Isaid,sitdown,please.”
Instantly,afizzysortof…lightnesscameoverme.That’stheonlywayIcoulddescribeit.Itstartedwherehishand
touchedmyshoulder,thentraveleddownmyarmtothetipsofmyfingersuntilitenvelopedmyentirebody,robbingmeof
thetirednessI’dfeltallday.Notonlymytiredness,butthesorenessI’dbeenfeelinginmyknucklesfromsewinghalfthe
night,andmyfeetfrombeingonthemallday,handsellingdressesfortheball.
Instead,adeliciouswarmthdescendeduponme,asifI’dbeenwrappedinablanketmadeofthegoldenautumnsunlightoutside.
Evenwhenhedrewawayhishand—whichhedidalmostimmediately—thelight,warmfeelingstayedwithme,andthepaindidn’t
return.Ifelt…well,good
“What,”Iaskedincredulously,sinkingdownintomychair,“wasthat?”
“Idon’tknowwhatyoumean.”Hewasallbusiness.“Ms.Gold—Jessica—I’mheretodeliveramessagetoyou,andit’snotabout
yourillicitglamour-castingorwhateverelseyouseemtothink.”
“IsaidI—”
“Don’tcastglamours.Iknow.Iheardyou.Again,that’snotwhyI’mhere.”
“Okay.”IfeltanendorphinrushasstrongasifI’djusteatenabagofchocolatebars,onlywithoutthebloatingandregret.
“Butseriously.Youhavetogivemethatspell.”
“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.WhatIdoneedisforyoutolistentome.I’mherebecauseyou’vebeenchosen.”
“Chosen?”Ishookmyhead,stillenjoyingtheeffervescentfizzinmyveins.“Chosenforwhat?”
“Notwhat,”hesaid.“Who.JessicaGold,you’retheChosenOne.”Jessica
JournalEntryfrom2005
Forlastinglove,carvethineinitialsintoanapple,thenthylover’sinitialsontheotherside.Slicetheappleintwo.
Feedthylovertheslicewiththineinitials,andthyselftheother.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
Thespellworked.
LastnightIheardthestrangestnoiseasIwaslyinginbed,wonderingwhyBillyhadshownnosignatallduringChemof
havingbeenaffectedbythesightofmeeatingpottagestewinfrontofhiminthecaf.
AtfirstIcouldn’tfigureoutwhatthenoisewas.ItsoundedkindoflikewhenDinaandIgooutcruisingwithMarkinhis
MustangalongthecountryroadsoutsideofEastHarbor,andgravelfliesupandhitshisfenders.
OnlyIwasinmybedroom.Onthesecondfloorofmyhouse.
ThenIhearditagain.Andagain.
Irealizeditwascomingfrommybedroomwindow,anditwasgravel:someonewasthrowingbitsofgravelatmywindowfromthestreet.
OfcourseIfigureditwasMarkandDina.It’sthekindofthingtheywoulddo,sneakoutonaschoolnightandthrowrocks
atmywindowtogetmetocomejointhemonanotheroneoftheirlunaticadventures.
ButwhenIwenttomywindowtolookdownintotheyard,itwasn’tMarkorDinastandingthereinthelightofthefullmoon.
ItwasBillyWalker.
Ididn’tknowwhattodo,especiallywhenhesawmelookingdownathimandstartedwavinghisarmsandwhisper-yelling,“Jess!
Jess,it’sme,Billy!”Loudenoughfortheentireneighborhoodtohear.
NaturallyIhadnochoicebuttoopenmywindowandwhisper-yellbackdowntohim,“OhmyGod,Billy,wouldyoupleaseshut
up?Doyouwanttowakeupmyparents?”
“Shit,”hesaid,duckingandlookingaroundlikemydadwasgoingtocomeoutofthehouseswinginganaxeorsomething.“I’m
sorry.Ijust—Ireallyneedtotalktoyou.”
Don’tgetmewrong.Iwasdelightedtoseehim.Helookedsocute,standingdownthereinhisred-and-goldletterjacket,
withhisdarkhairallmesseduplikehe’djustrolledoutofbedorhadbeenworkingoutorsomething.
ButI’dalreadywipedoffallmymakeupandwashedmyfaceandputonmygoofiestflannelpajamasanddonemywethairup
inbraidssoitwouldbeniceandwavyinthemorninginsteadofriotouslycurly.Ididn’texactlywanttogobouncingdown
thereandhaveabigheart-to-heartwiththeboyofmydreamsinmycurrentstateofwhattheFrenchcalldishabille
Butitdidn’tlookasifIhadmuchchoice.
“Canitwaituntilmorning?”Iwhispereddownathim.
“No,”hesaid.“There’ssomethingreallyimportantIneedtoaskyou.”
OhmyGod,Irealizedinthatmoment.Thespellworked.He’sgoingtoaskmetoHomecoming.Me,andnotRosalieHopkins.
Whocaresifheseesmewithoutmakeuponandmyhairdoneupinbraids?That’snotgoingtochangehismind.Notnow.
GoodyFletcher’sspellhadworked.
“I’llberightdown,”Isaid,andclosedmywindowagainstthechillynightair,jammedmyfeetintoapairofUGGs,andflew
silentlypastmyparents’andlittlebrother’sbedrooms,downthestairs,intothekitchen,tothemudroomwhereIthrewmy
wintercoatonovermypajamasand,unlockingthebackdoor,creptoutside
…directlyintoBillyWalker’sstrong,warmembrace.Becausehewasstandingrightthere,waitingforme.
“HowdidyouknowwhereIlive?”Iasked.
“Icamehereforyourbirthdaypartywhenweweresix.Youshowedusallyourroom,don’tyouremember?”
“Oh,yeah,”Isaid,andIdiddimlyrememberit,thoughitwashardtorememberanythingatthatmomentbecausesuddenlyBilly’s
lipswereonmycheeks,myhair,mylips,kissingmeasifhecouldneverkissmeenough,whichwasexactlywhatI’dalways
dreamedof,thoughI’dneverdreamedofithappeninghere,inmybackyard,inthemiddleofthenightwithmeinmywinter
coatandpajamasandBilly’sskinfeelingsohotagainstmine,likehewasrunningsomekindoffever.Andthatwasn’tall
ofhisIfeltagainstme,either.
“Areyou”—Imanagedtogasp,comingupforairafteraparticularlyintensekiss,withtongue—“allright,Billy?”
“Yeah,”hemurmured,slidinghislipsdownmyneck.Hisbigfootballplayerfingerswerefumblingatthebuttonsofmyflannel
pajamatop.“Areyou?Isthis…isthisallright?”
“Yes.Morethanallright.It’sjustabit…sudden.”
“Iknow.Butyou’vebeensonicetomeallyear,helpingmeinChemthewayyouhave.I’dhaveflunkedbynowifitweren’t
foryou,andCoachwould’vekickedmeofftheteamforsure.It’ssosweetofyou,and…well,I’vewantedtokissyou
likethisforsolong,Jess.Ijustneverworkedupthecourageuntiltonight.Ican’tbelieveyoulikemeback.Youdo,don’t
you?”
“Ido.”Understatementoftheyear.
“Oh,man.Thatissogreat.You’resogreat….”
Thiswasverygratifyingtohear—almostasgratifyingashiscold,strongfingersfeltasecondlateraroundmyboobswhen
hefinallygotmytopopenand,withastrangledcry,buriedhisfaceagainstmythroat.
Butitstillwasn’texactlywhatI’dbeenhopingfor.
“Didn’tyousayyouhadsomethingyouwantedtoaskme?”IsaidasIverydelicatelypushedhisheadlower.
“Oh,yeah.”HemumbledsomethingthatIcouldn’tunderstandbecausehismouthwasfullofmyboobs.
“Billy.”ItwasoneofthehardestthingsI’veeverhadtodo,becausethesensationofhishottongueonmynipplehadset
offaveritablegeyseroflustinmypants.
ButIneededtohearthewords,soItuggedhisheadawaybyhishair.Hestaredupatme,hiseyesasdrenchedindesire
asmypajamabottoms.
“Wha’?”heasked,stupidly.
“Homecoming,”Isaid.“WhoareyoutakingtoHomecoming?”
“Oh.You,ifyou’dgowithme,Jess.You.”
Iletgoofhishair,andhismouthwentrightbacktomychest,beforeslidinglower.Thenlower.“You,”hemurmuredagain,
likeanincantation.“You,you,you,you.”
Jessica
Samhainiswhenthewisegoodwifefinishesherpreparationsforwinter.Animalsshouldbefattenedupenoughforculling.
Fruits,herbs,andharvestvegetablesshouldbepreservedforthecoldwinterdaysahead.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
Istartedtolaugh—untilIrealizedDerrickWinterswasn’tjoking.
“Wait,”Isaid.“TheChosenOne?Me?”
Apparentlyhewasserious,sinceheproducedapileofpaperfromtheinsidepocketofhisleatherjacketandunfoldedit.
“Thiswascopiedfromawitch’sgrimoirefoundplasteredintothewallofahouseinupstateNewYork,”hesaid.“It’sthought
tohavebeenhiddentherenearlyfourhundredyearsago.”
“Wait.”Icouldn’tbelievethiswashappening.“Thisisn’tanancientprophecy,isit?”
Heeyedmesternlyoverthetopofthepapers.“Ms.Gold,Icanassureyouthatthoughyoumayfinditamusing,what’shappening
hereinyourtownisdeadlyserious.”
“What’shappeninginmytown?”
HestaredatmelikeI’djustaskediftheskywasblue.“Arift.Ashiftinthecosmicbalance.Areyouhonestlytellingmeyouhaven’tnoticed?NothingunusualatalllatelyaroundWestHarbor?”
“Well,no,notreally.”Whenhecontinuedtogivemethehairyeyeball,Isaid,“Imean,I’vebeenabitbusygettingready
forthissale.”Whenthedisbelievinglookturnedintobewilderment,Iexplained,“MyFallintoFallsale?Ihaveitevery
year.It’swhenweslashourpricestogetridofallofoursummerstocktomakeroomforourwinterinventory—”
Nowthelookturnedtooneofimpatience.“Ms.Gold.Areyouserious?You’venoticednothingstrangearoundthisvillageatalllately?Sinkholes?Missingpets?Unusualweatherpatterns?Anythingunusualatall?”
“Well,ifyouputitthatway…”
Youcouldn’tbeawitch—evenanonhereditarywitchlikeme—andnothavesomeinklingwhenthingsweren’tquiteright.Dina
hadbeencomplainingformonthsthatWestHarborrealestatesalesweredown,whilesalesinneighboringGreenwichandFairfield
remainedasbriskasever.TheshopnextdoortoEnchantmentshadhadaVacant:ForLeasesigninitspapered-overdisplaywindowformonths,andI’devennoticedaslightdeclineintheusuallyvigorousmarket
formywide-legloungers.
Allofthosethingscouldbeexplainedbyalocal—verylocal—economicslump.
ButthewolfMarksworehe’dseenalongthejoggingtrailwhilehe’dbeenoutforhisdailyruntheotherday?Therehadn’t
beenawolfspottedinConnecticutsincetheseventeenhundreds,whencolonists,fearingfortheirlivestock,huntedthem
intoextinction.
YetthemorewetriedtoconvinceMarkthathe’donlyimaginedtheonehe’dseen—orthatithadbeensomeone’shuskyescaped
fromitsleashorbackyard—themorehestucktohisstory.
NowIwaswonderingifhemightactuallyhavebeenright.
Andthentherewasthewater.
“Imean,sure,there’vebeenafewoddthingshereandthere,”Ireplied,carefully.Thepleasantglowyfeelinghistouch
hadwrappedmeinhadallbutdisappeared,andIwasbeginningtofeelsomethingelseinstead…aslightchill.Itwasn’t
comingfromtheopenwindowbehindme,either.“Somefloodingintown.Everytimethere’sakingtideoritrainsmorethan
afractionofaninch,thePostRoadfloods,especiallyinthecafeteriaoverbythehighschool.Thatneverusedtohappen.
Andthere’vebeensomeoddanimalsightings.Butthatkindofthingisgoingonallovertheworld,isn’tit?Climatechange,
orsomething—?”
“No.”Derrick’ssilvergazewassteady.“It’sbecauseoftheriftrighthereinWestHarbor.Andit’sgoingtokeepgetting
worseeverydayuntiltheChosenOneputsastoptoit.”
“AndbytheChosenOne,youmeanme?Allbecauseitsayssoinsomebooksomeonefoundburiedinawall?Oh,comeon.”Iguffawed,buttheairaroundmedidseemtobegettingchillier.“Youknowthisisbasicallythebeginningofeverysupernatural
horrorfilmevermade,right?Youcan’tactuallybelieveit.”
“Idobelieveit,”hesaidquietly.“BecauseI’veseenithappenbefore,dozensoftimes.I’msureyou’veheardofithappening
before,too.Townsjustlikethisonethatwerewipedoffthemapliketheyneverexisted—”
“Youmeanbyfireorflood?Thosewerenaturaldisasters.”
“Werethey?”Hiseyesglowed.“Orwasitbecauseofanoldwrong,acrimecommittedlongagothatwasneverrighted,sothat
theforcesofevilwereallowedtofesterbeneaththetownuntilfinallytheycreatedarifttheywereabletoslipthrough
anddestroytheareacompletely?”
“Oh.”Iblinked.“Ihadn’tthoughtofthat.”
ExceptthatIhad.Acrimecommittedlongagothatwasneverrighted?Ihadpersonalknowledgeofsuchacrime…severalsuchcrimes,actually.I’dcontributedtothem.I’dalwayswonderedwhen—orif—anythingwouldevercomeofthem.
IguessIhadmyanswer.
“Butwhatifthatevilcouldhavebeenstopped?”hewenton,thosesilvereyesgleamingexcitedly.“That’swhyI’mhere.I’m
hopingtokeepsuchariftfromhappeningtoWestHarbor—butIcanonlydoitwithyourhelp.”
“Okay,”Isaid.NowaywasIgoingtomentionhavingpersonalknowledgeofanycrimethatmightpossiblyhavecontributed
totheevilfesteringbeneathmytown.Iwasgoingtokeepitcool.Ascoolasawitchinaneonjumpsuitcouldkeepthings.
“Inthatcase,yeah,IthinkmaybeIshouldhearaboutthisancientprophecyofyours.Justtobeonthesafeside.”
Lookingpleased,Derrickliftedhisstackofpapersandbegantoreadaloudfromthefirstpage.“‘Everythirteenthgeneration,
achildisborn.Intothischild,thelightwillbeimplanted—’”
Implanted?
“‘—byonetrainedtowieldit.Thatchildwillbecomethebringeroflight.Throughher,compassionandempathywillbereborn.
Throughher,harmonyinnaturewillonceagainberestored.Throughher,evilwillbeextinguished—’”
“Sorrytointerrupt.”Myheart,whichhadalreadybeendrummingatthepossibilityofmyhavingcontributedinsomewayto
theformulationofthissupernaturalfaultline,wasbeginningtoslaminsidemychest.“Butwasthisfact-checkedbyanyone?
Becauseitseemsabit—”
“There’smore.”Derrickpointedtohispaper.
“I’msure.But—”
“Justletmegettotheend.‘Withouther,hopedies.Andwithouthope,humanitydiesitself.Andbecausetherewillalwaysbethosewhopreferevil,’”Derrickcontinuedreading,“‘shemustbeprotectedbytheonewhoischosen.WhentheBringerofLightisjoinedbytheChosenOne,herpowerwillincreasetenfold.Becauseitisonlywithlightthatevilcanbedestroyed,anditisonlywithlightthatlifecanflourish.’”
IrealizedmyhandhadcrepttowardtheamethyststoneIalwaysworeonasilverchainatmythroat—orhadworn,atleast,
sincethetroublewithBilly.Amethysthadprotectiveproperties,andthestonehadalwaysworked.
Upuntilnow.
“There,”hesaid.“That’sit.Thisisyourcopytokeep.”Helaidthefoldedpagesontopofthepileoflacybralettesbetween
us.“Youcanaskyourquestionsnowifyoustillhaveany.”
“Um,”Isaid,thecheesiestofthesupernaturalhorrormoviesI’dwatchedobsessivelyasateennowreplayingonaloopin
mymind.“Listen.I’msorry.ButiftheCouncilsentyouheretoimplantthelightintomesothatyoucanprotectit,I’m
goingtohavetogivethatahardpass.”
Hestared.“Pardon?”
“NotthatIdon’tthinkyou’reattractive,becauseIdo.”Like,majorlyattractive—exceptforthepartwhereheworkedfortheWCW.“Ilikethewitchhuntervibeyouhavegoingontherewiththe
hairandtheleatherjacketandthebootsandeverything.AndIlovethatthingyoudowithyourfingers—you’regoingtohavetoshowmehowyoudothat.ButthewholereasonI’moncontinuous
birthcontrolissonoimplantation-typesituationcanevertakeplace.AndbeforeyousayanythingabouthowI’mmissing
outonthejoysofmotherhood,Idon’tconsidermyselfchildlessasmuchaschild-free.Ilovekids,butItriedtherelationshipthing,anditreallydidn’tworkout,soI’mdonewithallofthat.I’mhappytobeasingle,prosperous,child-freebusinesswitchwithmyownhomeandacat.SowhileI’msorryaboutthisriftthing,Ihavetodeclineyourinvitation.Doyouwantyourparkingvalidated?BecauseIcandothat.”
ThecornersofDerrick’smouthtwitched.Iwouldn’thavesaidhewassmiling,though.Thatseemedbeyondhisemotionalrange.
“I’mnotheretoimplantanythinginyou,Jessica.”
“Oh.”Ihadtoadmitthat,despitehavingmeanteverywordI’djustsaid,Ifeltalittledisappointed.DerrickWintersmay
havebeenwiththeWCW,buthewashot.LivinginavillageassmallasWestHarbor,thedatingprospectswereappallingly
slim,especiallywhenyouwerelookingforsomeonewhowassupportiveofentrepreneurialbusinesswomenanduninterestedin
anykindoflong-termrelationship.IfI’dhadtohavesexwithhim—inordertosavemytown—itwouldnothavebeentheworstthingimaginable.“ThenIdon’tgetit.”
“YouaretheChosenOne.”Hetappedtheparchmentpaper.“TheOneselectedtoimplant—andprotect—thelight.”
Ishookmyhead.“AndhowamIsupposedtodothat,exactly?”
Hereachedforthepapershe’dlaidonthepileofbrasandunfoldedthemagain.Onthesecondpagewaswhatlookedlikea
biothatincludedafullcolorphoto—aschoolphoto,fromthelooksofit,andnotaverygoodone—ofashylysmilingbrown-skinned
girl,ateenageringlassesandbraces
“EstherDodge,”hesaid,andtappedthephoto.“Throughforensicgenealogy,webelieveshe’stheBringerofLight.”
“She’ssupposedtosaveWestHarborfromtherift?”Igaped.“She’sjustakid!”
“She’ssixteen.Butevenso,ifshe’sthewitchweseek,herpowers—coupledwithyours—areallthatcansavethistown.”
Istudiedthephotoskeptically.“Really?Whattypeofwitchisshe?”
Whenhelookedblank,Iprompted,“Stormwitch,cottagewitch,hedgewitch,sunwitch?”Therewerealmostasmanykindsofwitchesastherewerespells.Eachofthemdrewtheirpowerfromdifferenttypesofenergy,buttheywerealllegitimatepractitionersoftheCraft—inmyopinion.AsamemberoftheWCW,hemightdisagree.
“Right,”hesaidquickly.“Right.Well,thetruthis,Idon’tknowifshe’sevenawareofherpowers.That’swhereyou,as
theChosenOne,comein.OnlyyoucandetermineifEsthertrulyistheBringerofLight,byawakeningthatlightwithinher
yourself.”
Awakeningsoundedalotbetterthanimplanting,butitwasstillprettyvague.“HowdoIdothat?”
“Inmyexperience,”hesaid,“ifyou’retrulytheChosenOne,itwillcomenaturally.Accordingtomysources,herfamily
isn’tmagicallyinclined,soyou’llprobablybethefirstwitchshe’severmet.”
Great.Nopressure.Allofthissoundedhorrible.“Butwhyme?WhyamItheChosenOne?Whynotyou,sinceyouobviouslyknowsomuchaboutit?”
Hescowled,thoughatthecalendaronmywall,notatme.“Idon’thavethenecessaryskills.Youdo.”
“Necessaryskills?ButIdon’tknowanythingabout—”ThenIrealizedwhathemeantbynecessaryskills.“IsitbecauseI’m
awomanandshe’sasixteen-year-oldhighschoolgirl,andyou’re…”Mygazestrayedfromhiseyestohiswhiskersand
leatherjacket.“…you?”
“Idon’tknowwhattotellyou,”hesaid,flatlyrefusingtoacknowledgewhatIwassaying.“OurresearchsaystheChosen
Oneisyou.”
“Uh-huh.”TypicalCouncilmember,nevertakingaccountabilityforanything.“Yourresearch.Tellmethis,then.SincewhenhastheWCWbeenusingforensicgenealogytotestmembersofthepublic—minors,Imightadd—forproofofsupernaturalancestry?Besidesthefactthatit’sstupid,isthatevenlegal?”
Nowhisscowlwasdefinitelydirectedatme.“Ms.Gold,youdorealizethateverymomentwespendhere,arguingoverthis,
isanothermomenttheforcesofevilareabletogatherstrength,don’tyou?”
“Oh,theforcesofevil.”Iwidenedmyeyesathimmockingly,buttruthfully,hiswordsgavemeanotherchill—enoughsothatIreachedforamini
chocolatebar.Suddenly,Ineededthecomfortofaquickhitofsugar.
IhatedtheWorldCouncilofWitches,butIlovedmytown—obviously,sinceI’dmovedbacktoitaftercollege,andwassitting
herelisteningtoaWCWmemberexplaintomehowIcouldsaveitfromruinwheneveryinstinctinmybodywastellingmeto
run—runfarawayfromhim.
Butastrongerimpulsewascompellingmetostay.StayandrightthewrongIwasprettysureIwasatleastpartiallyresponsible
forcommitting.
“HowexactlyamIsupposedtoprotectthisgirl—sorry,theBringerofLight—whoIdon’tevenknowfromtheforcesofevil?”Iasked.“ThisisWestHarbor.Peopleherehardlybotherkeepingtheirdoorslockedatnight.Idon’tevenownpepperspray.”
“Well,Isuggestyoustartkeepingyourdoorslockedatnight.Thisvillageisveryquaint,butit’sonlyforty-fivemiles
fromNewYorkCity.”Onecornerofhismouthwasturnedup,whichforhimIguesscountedasasmile.“AndI’mfairlycertain
thepowersofevilareresistanttopepperspray.”
“Isthatsupposedtomakemefeelbetteraboutanyofthis?”Thechocolatewasn’thelping.“WhatdoestheCouncilthinkit’s
doing,anyway,puttingalltheresponsibilityofsavingtheuniverseonmeandateenagedgirl?”
“Nottheuniverse.WestHarbor.”
“Right.Sorry.”Istareddownatthephoto.Itwasn’teverydaythatahotguywalkedintomyshopandtoldmethatthefateoftheuniverse—well,okay,mysmalltown—restedonmyshoulders.Maybethat’swhyittookmesolongtorealizethegirl’smaroonsweatervestandyellowstripedtielookedfamiliar.“Holdon.Doesshegotoschoolhere—WestHarborHigh?”
“I’mtoldthatshedoes.”
“That’swhereIwenttoschool.IsthatwhyI’mtheChosenOne?BecauseI’llhavesomekindofrapportwithher?”
“It’spossible,”hesaid.Thenheadded,carefully,“Thatandthebook.”
Iraisedmygazetoblinkathim.“Whatbook?”
“Don’tyouhavesomesortofancientbookofspells…?”
Comprehensiondawned.“GoodyFletcher’sbook?OhmyGod,whotoldyouaboutthat?WasitRosalieHopkins?”Ithadtobe.God,
Icouldn’tbelievethis.Rosaliehadbeenitchingtogetherhandsonthatbooksincehighschool
Hisgaze,whichhadalwaysbeensharp,becamerazor-edged.“SoyouandRosalieHopkinsarefriends?”
Iopenedmymouthtoblurtoutthetruth—thatRosalieHopkinsandIweremortalenemies,andthatiftheriftwasmyfault,
shewasatleastasresponsibleforitasIwas.
Butthatdidn’tseemthewisestthingtosayinfrontofsomeonewho’dbeensenttohelprepairit.
“Wewenttoschooltogether,”Isettledforsayinginstead.
Wasitmyimagination,ordidheseemrelieved?Sometensionwentoutfrombeneaththepaddedshouldersofthatmotorcycle
jacket,anyway.“That’sprobablyhowtheCouncilfoundoutaboutthebook,then.AndalsoprobablywhyIwasaskedtogive
youthis.”
Andthen,tomyutterhorror,hetossedasilveramulet—anexactreplicaofthedoublemoonshewaswearing—ontothepileoflacybralettesbetweenus.
“What?”Istareddownatthetalismanincompleteshock.“Areyoukiddingme?I’mnotwearingthat.”
Heshruggedagain.“Suityourself.It’sforyourownprotection,butwhetherornotyouwearitmakesnodifferencetome.”
Iglancedfromtheamulettohisface,flabbergasted.“ButIthoughtthosewereonlyforpeoplelikeyou.”
“Me?”
“MembersoftheWorldCouncilofWitches.”
LikeallmembersoftheWCW,hewasasupremelygood-lookingandconfident—onemightevensayoverconfident—person.Butsuddenly,heseemeduncertain,shakinghisheadandstammering.“I…I…I’mnotamemberof
theWCW.”
“You’renot?”
“No.Whatwouldmakeyouthinkthat?”
Ipointedwordlesslyattheamuletaroundhisneck.
Hefingereditinsurprise,seemingtohaveforgottenhewaswearingit.“Oh,right.Youdoknowthatthisisthesymbolof
Gaia?”
“Yes.Butit’salsothesymboloftheWorldCouncilofWitches.”
“Buttheydon’townthetrademarkonthesymbolfortheancestralMotherGoddessofalllife,dothey?”Thebittersarcasm
inhisvoicewasoddlysoothing.“No,theydon’t,despitewhattheymightthink.SoIsuggestyouputiton.It’snotpepper
spray,butit’sbetterthannothing.”
Reluctantly,Iliftedtheamulethe’dtossedatme.Themetalfeltcoldandhardagainstmyfingers.Rosalieworeoneexactly
likeit,usuallytuckedawayonasilverchainbeneathherinevitablecashmeresweaterset,whereshethoughtnoonewould
noticeit.
Idid,though.I’dnoticeditlongago…andalsonoticedthatRosalie’smotherandgrandmotherworesimilarones.
Ittookmeyearstorealizeexactlywhatthependantrepresented—andthatIwasnevergoingtogetonelikeit.
Untiltoday,apparently.
Derrickwaspointingtotheopenwindowabovemyhead.“Aren’tyouworriedaboutbreak-ins?”
“No.Itcan’topenanyfartherthanthat,it’sbeenstuckthatwayforyears.Butit’sfine,mycatusesittogetinand
out.Ifyoudon’tworkfortheCouncil,howdidyougetallthisstuff,liketheforensicgenealogicalreportonEsther,and
copiesoftheprophecyabouther,andeverything?”
“OtherentitiesexistintheworldbesidestheWorldCouncilofWitches,”hesaid.Thesarcasmwasback.“Entitiesthatcare
asmuchasyoudoaboutsavingthistownfromevil.”
“Right,right.”Thatcalledforanotherchocolatebar.“Andpreciselyhowlongdowehavebeforethathappens?Didyourbosses
atthismysteryentitygiveyouadeadline?”
“Yes,actually,”hesaid,withabrisknod.“Halloween.”
Ichokedalittleonsomepeanutsandcaramel.“I’msorry—didyoujustsayHalloween?”
“Yes.YouknowthatHalloweeniswhentheveilbetweenthisworldandthespiritworldisatitsthinnest.That’swhenwe’ll
havethebestchanceofdefeatingthisevil.”Hemusthavenoticedmyexpression,sinceheasked,“Sorry,isthatinconvenient
foryou?”
“Yes,actually.Halloweenisnextweek.HowamIsupposedtosaveWestHarborfrombeingrifted,orwhateveritis,inaweek?”
“Idon’tknow.”Hewasedgingtowardthedoor.“ButI’dthinkyoucouldstartbycontactingEstherand—”
“Pleasedon’tsaythewordimplantagain.”
Thatcausedbothcornersofhismouthtoturnup—ahard-wonvictoryforme.“Iwasgoingtosay,seeifyouthinkshetrulyisasgiftedwithmagicaswe’veheard.”
“Right.AndhowwillIletyouknowifIdo?”I’dalreadyscannedthepapershe’dleftme,andseenthattheyhadnophone
numbersoremailaddressesoranythinglistedonthemthatcouldbeconsideredremotelyusefulinformation.Thiswasonething
I’dalwayshatedaboutthewitchingworld.Themagicwaswonderful,butwitchesthemselvescouldbesoflaky—exceptofcourse
forRosalieHopkins,whowasasticklerfortherules,andlovednothingbetterthancomingafterthoseofuswhodidn’tfollow
themtotheletter—exceptherselfofcourse.Shedefiedthemflagrantly.“Orareyoujustgoingtodumpalltheresponsibility
forthisgirlandthecontinuedexistenceofWestHarborintomylapandthenleavetown?”
“Iwouldneverdothat,”hesaid,asifhewerenotstandingbythedoor,lookingreadytodoexactlythat.“I’llbearound,
enjoyingthequaintambienceofthispicturesquelittleseasidevillageduringitsTricentennialcelebration.You’llbeable
tofindmewhenyouneedme.Inthemeantime—howdotheyputitontheCouncil?Oh,right.”Andthenhesmiled—anactualsmile,
showingasetofwhite,eventeeth.“Blessedbe.”
Thenhewasgone,leavingmewithonlyapileofpaper,apendant,ataskIdidn’thavetheslightestideahowtoaccomplish,
andthesinkingfeelingthatWestHarbor’s“rift”—whichapparentlyonlyIcouldheal—mightsomehowhavebeencausedbyme
inthefirstplace.
Jessica
JournalEntryfrom2005
Toridthyselfofunwantedpestsplaceaturnipnearthybreasts.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
Todayatlunch,Billycameandsatnexttome.Becauseofcoursehedid.DinaandMarkandeveryoneelsewerecoolaboutit…
…untilBillygotuptogetusmoresoda—Cokeforhim,DietCokeforme.That’swhenMarkburstoutwith,“Ican’tbelieve
this,Jess.He’ssittingwithusagain?Whenisthisgoingtoend?”
“Mark!”Dinacried.
“What?”Marklookedmad.“It’strue.Thatguy’sadope.Worse,he’sadopeIhavetositwithatluncheverydaybecauseJess
putthehexonhimwithherwitchymagic.”
IglaredatDinareproachfully.“Youtoldhim?”
Dinagaveanapologeticshrug.“Ihadtotellhim.HekeptaskingwhyajocklikeBillywassittingherewithusemos.Heprettymuchknewalreadyanywayafterthethingwiththestewafewweeksago.Youdidlookkindofweirdwalkingaroundthecafandeatingit,insteadofsittingdownlikeanormalperson.”
“Yougirls.”MarklookedatDinaandmeandshookhishead,hislongblackhairswayingagainsthisleather-jacketedshoulders.
“Goddamnedwitches.Isthathowyougotme,Dee?Youcastaspellonme,too?”
DinagrinnedandreachedouttopinchoneofMark’scheeks.“Ididn’thavetocastaspellonyou,honey.You’vebeeninlove
withmesincethemomentyousawme.”
“Luckyforyouthat’strue.”TheadorationthatwasalwaysinhiseyeswhenMarkspoketooraboutDinasoftenedthem,and
suddenly,thetwoofthemwerekissing.Isighedandlookedatthedome-shapedskylightaboveourheads.
Beingawitchishard,nomatterhowpureyourintentionsmightbe.Andbeingasolitarywitchmightbeharderthananything—AP
Chemincluded.ObviouslyIhadletmybestfriend,Dina,inonmysecret,waybackinmiddleschool.
FortunatelyDinatooktomagiclikeaducktakestowater,andthetwoofushadformedourownlittlemini-coven.It’snice
tohavesomeonetotryoutspellswith,evenifmostofthemdidn’tseemtowork—oratleastnotthewaywemeantthemto.
ButIcan’tsayDina’sboyfriend,Mark,isalwaysonehundredpercentsupportiveofourmysticalendeavors.
“Butyou,”hesaidtome,hisgazehardening,whenthetwoofthemresurfacedfromsuckingface.“BillyWalker?Really?”
Ismiledandatesomemoreofmypeachyogurt.“Don’tyouworryaboutBilly.I’mtakinggoodcareofhim.Reeeeaaaalgood
careofhim.”
DinaburstoutlaughingwhileMarkgagged.“I’mgonnapuke,”hesaid.“Andwhat’sworseis,youdon’tevenknowwhatyou’re
doing.”
“Oh,IknowexactlywhatI’mdoing,”Isaid,lickingmyspoonandthinkingaboutthenightbefore.Billyhadshownup—ashehadeverynightsinceI’dcastthespell—andsprayedmywindowwithpebbles.Thenthetwoofushadsnuckoutintohistruck,whereI’dundressedhim…andallowedhimtoundressme.I’dsteppedupmynightwearsinceI’drealizedromanticmoonlitrendezvouswerehisthing.Insteadofmyflannelpj’s,I’dstartedwearingthelacycamisolesI’dboughtatVictoria’sSecretinthevainhopethatsomeonemightseemeinthem.
Turnedoutthosehopesweren’tsovain,afterall.Myinnerthighsstilltingledfromhiswhiskerburn.Billyhadproveda
veryquick—andeager—studentofmypersonalbrandofsexualeducation.
“No,youdon’thaveanyideawhatyou’redoing,”Marksaid.“Becauseifyoudid,you’dknowjusthowmuchofadopethatguy
is.”
“Oh,giveitup,Mark.”Dinarolledhereyes.“JustbecauseBillylikesfootball—”
“It’sgotnothingtodowithfootball,”Marksaid.“Sal’safootballplayer,andthere’snothingdopeyabouthim.”Dina’s
olderbrother,Sal,hadgraduatedtwoyearsbeforeusandgoneofftoSyracuseonafootballscholarship.“I’mtalkingabout
Billy,andtheshithesayswhenyougirlsaren’taround.”
“Oh,youmeanguytalk?”Dinaapedherboyfriend.“Ican’twait.Comeon,tellus.WhatkindofshitdoesBillysay?”
Markshookhishead,suddenlyreluctanttospeak—whichforMarkwasunusual,soithadtobebad.Mark’sfatherhadpassed
whenhewasyoung,leavingMamaGiovanni’s,thefamilyrestaurant,toberunbyMark,hismother,andhisthreesisters.Mark
wasintenselyprotectiveofboththerestaurantandallofthewomeninhislife,andthatincludedhisgirlfriend—andher
bestfriend.Still,heordinarilywasn’tshyaboutsharingjuicygossip.
“Comeon,Mark.”IhadahardtimeimaginingBillysayinganythingsoawfulthatMarkwouldn’trepeatit.“Whatdidhesay?Youcantellme.Iwon’tgetmad.”
“Well.”MarkglancedovermyshouldertomakesureBillywasstilloutofearshot,thenleanedforward,thesleeveofhis
leatherjacketsqueakingagainstthesmoothlaminateofthecafeteriatable.“Okay.Ifyoumustknow,hewon’tstoptalking
abouthowmuchhelovesyou.”
Dina’sbrowfurrowed.“Isthatall?What’swrongwiththat?Ithinkthat’ssweet!”
“No,Imean—hewon’tstoptalkingaboutit.It’sallhetalksabout.Billyusedtotalkabouthowhecouldn’twaittograduateandgotoNotreDameonthatfootballscholarship
hegot.Butnowallhetalksaboutishowhecan’twaittograduateandmovetoManhattanandliveinaloftwithyou,and
runJess’serrandswhileshe’sinclassatFIT.”
Ifrozewithaspoonfulofyogurthalfwaytomymouth.DinaandIexchangednervousglances.“What?”
“Yeah.Ithoughtthatmightgetyourattention.”MarkopenedtheTupperwarecontainingthelunchhismotherhadmadehim.
MamaGiovanni’sluncheswerelegendary.ButforonceIwasmoreinterestedinwhatMarkhadtosaythaninwhathewaseating.
“Billydoesn’twanttogotoNotreDameanymorebecausethat’llmeanbeingawayfromhispreciousJess.He’sgoingtoskip
collegealtogetherandgostraighttoworkatsomeunionjobifhecangetit,sohecanstartsavinguptobuyyouagreat
bigfatdiamondengagementring,becausehe’ssoinlovewithyou,hewantstomar—”
“No.”Isetdownmyyogurt,feelingsuddenlyill.“Please.Stop.”
“Hey.”Markshrugged.“Idon’tmakethenews.Ionlydeliverit.”
“ButmovingtoManhattanandfindingacheaplofttoliveiniswhatwe’resupposedtobedoingtogetheraftergraduation,”Dinaremindedme.
“Yes.”Ifeltnumb.“ItoldBillythat.ButhemustthinknowthatheandIaretogether…”
Dinalookedheavenwardandsighed.“Oh,Jess.”
“See?”Markshookhishead.“ThisiswhatIwastryingtotellyounutjobwitches.It’sgreatyouwantedadatetoHomecoming,
Jess,butyouwentalittletoofar.Nowtheslob’sinlovewithyou.Morethanjustinlovewithyou:hewantstomarryyouandfillyouwithbabyBillies.”
“Oh,God.”Idroppedmyheaddownontothetabletop.“WhathaveIdone?”
Dinapattedmyshoulder.“Don’tworry,”shesaid.“We’llfiguresomethingout.Maybethere’saspellinGoodyFletcher’sbook
thatwillundoit.”
“Andbytheway,”Markwenton,polishingoffhiscannelloni,“thereisnowayyoutwoaregoingtofindacheaploftinManhattan.
Thoseonlyexistinthosedumbrom-comsthatyoulovetowatch.AndIwouldknowbecausemyuncleRichieisacontractoron
StatenIsland.”
“Here,Jess.”Billyhadcomeback.HeslidafrozenSnickersbaraswellasacanofDietCokeinfrontofme.“Igotyou
thisaswellasthesoda.Iknowhowmuchyoulovechocolate.”
Ifeltawaveofnauseasweepoverme.Itwasn’tthefrozenSnickers,though.ItwasBilly,andwhatI’ddonetohim.This
wasn’twhatI’dintended.Thiswasn’twhatI’dintendedatall.
Oh,God.WhathadIdone?AndhowwasIgoingtofixit?
Dinawasright:thebook.TherehadtobeaspellinGoodyFletcher’sbookthatwouldundothismess.Therejusthadtobe!Jessica
Boiltogetherequalpartsfountainwaterandpurehoney.Addalittlenutmeganddressedginger,alongwiththerindofhalf
anorangeorlemon(ifonecanbefound).Letstandtilllukewarm,thenaddthreepartsrum.Allwhodrinkingoodcheerwill
befriendsforlife.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
“Wait,”Dinasaidoverhottoddiesthatnightonherbrother’sfrontporch.“Thisguywantsyoutowhat?”
“Implantthelightintothisgirl,”Isaid.“Andthenguideandprotecther.Becauseshe’stheBringerofLight.”
“Whatdoesanyofthatevenmean?”
“HowshouldIknow?”Itookasipofmydrink.“ButthefateofWestHarbordependsonit.”
“Well,screwthat.”Dina—stillaspetiteasshewasinhighschool,butnowbrunettewithblondhighlights—satcross-legged
ontheporchswingbesideme.“Whydoesn’tthisDerrickjustdoithimself?”
“Itoldyou,hecan’t.OnlyIcandoit,becauseI’mtheChosenOne.”
“Yeah,aboutthat.Howdoyouevenknowanyofthisislegit?Thereisn’tasingleguyonherewhomatcheshisdescriptionnamedDerrickWinters.”Dinawavedherphoneatme.“NotonanysocialmediaplatformthatIcanfind.”
“Noteveryoneisonsocialmedia,Dina.Especiallywitches.”
“Yeah,butthisguyisn’tonClassmates.comorLinkedInoranything.Didhenotgotoschool?Hasheneverhadajob?”
“Apparentlythisishisjob,”Isaid.“Drivingaround,tellingwomentheirtownsareinmortalperil,andthatthey’retheChosenOne.”
“I’mtheChosenOne!”Dina’sseven-year-oldnephew,Toby,outinthefrontyard,declaredasheswunghislightsaberinthedirection
ofhisolderbrother,Daniel.“Standdown,villain!”
“You’renottheChosenOne,”Danielscoffed,hisownglowingplasticsabercuttingaswatheofbrilliantredlightacross
thedarkenedlawn.“Iam.Preparetomeetyourdoom.”
“Neitherofyouhavebeenchosenforanythingexceptbed,”theirmother,Yasmin,declaredasshecameoutontotheporchcarrying
athermoscontainingmorehottoddy,sinceourmugshadbeenrunninglow.“Headoninsidenow.Yourfather’swaitingforyou
upstairstohelpyoubrushyourteethandputonyourpajamas.”
“Aw,Mom!”Bothboysputupconsiderableresistance,butwereeventuallywrangledinside,leavingusinblissfulquiet—for
themoment,anyway.
“Soletmegetthisstraight.”Dina’ssister-in-lawsettledontooneofthecushionedwickercouchesandpulledafauxfurblanketoverherlap,sincetheautumnairhadbecomemorechilledthanbriskoncethesunwentdown.“You’resayingawizardwalkedintoyourshoptodayandsaidtheworldwasgoingtoendifyoudidn’tfindthislittlehighschoolgirlandimplantthelightintoher?Andyoubelievehim?”
“Uh,”Isaid.DinaandIexchangedglances.DinaandYasmingotalongwell—wellenoughthatthey’dtakenoverDina’sdad’s
oldrealestatelawofficetogether,rightacrossthestreetfromEnchantments,andadorablyrenameditDiAngelo&DiAngelo,
SistersInLaw.
Butthatdidn’tmeanbook-smartbuttenderheartedArmenianAmericanYasminwasabeliever.Shetoleratedwhatshecalledour
“littlehobby,”butonlybecausesheseemedtoviewitasaharmlessvestigefromourschooldaystogether—likecheerleading,
exceptthatschoolspirithadbeentheonekindofspiritthathadneverheldanyinterestforDinaandme.
“Firstofall,amalepractitionerofwitchcraftisawitch,”Isaid.“Notawizardorawarlock.Thewordwitchisgenderneutral.”
“Allright,”Yasminsaid.“Noneedtogetdefensive.”
“Andhedidn’tsaytheworldwasgoingtoend,”Iwenton.“OnlyWestHarbor.”
“Well,that’sarelief.”Yasmin’stonewasmildlysarcastic.“Butwhatdoesthismalewitchexpectyoutodo?Justwalkup
tothisgirlandsay,‘Hi,hello,I’mtheChosenOne,comewithmeifyouwanttolive’?”
“Itishardtobelieve,”Dinasaid.“I’mnotsayingthestuffhesaidabouttheriftisn’ttrue.Obviouslywe’veseentheflooding
withourowneyes—andMark’swolf,ifitevenisawolf,whichIstilldoubt.MarkknowsItalianfoodandcars,notwilddogs.Buthowdoesthisguyknowaboutourrift,
especiallyifheisn’taffiliatedwiththeWCW?”
Ishrugged.“HowwouldIknow?”
“Sowhydoyoueventrusthim?”
“I…”Iheldmymuginbothhands,lettingthehotbeverageinsidethawmychilledfingersasIrememberedthelookonDerrick’sface,sourgentandserious,ashe’dspokentomethatafternooninmyoffice.Butmorethanthat,Irememberedtheshockofelectricwarmththathadgonethroughmewhenhe’dtouchedmyshoulder—andtheoddlyreassuringcomfortofhissarcasticwords:OtherentitiesexistintheworldbesidestheWorldCouncilofWitches.Entitiesthatcareasmuchasyoudoaboutsaving
thistownfromevil.
“Idon’tknow,”Isaid,finally.“Ijustdo.”
“Great.”Dinapushedherfootagainsttheporchrailing,makingtheporchswingweweresittingonsway.“Soyoujusthave
afeelingthisguyislegit.AfeelingthathasnothingtodowiththosegreatbigshouldersofhisthatBeccakeepstalkingabout.”
Ifrownedather.“Givemealittlecredit.”ButBeccawasn’twrongabouttheshoulders.
“Areyousurehedidn’tputaspellonyou?”Yasminaskedworriedly.“Orahex,orwhateveritisyouwitchesdo?”
“Hedidn’tputaspellonme.”Iputoutafoottostilltheporchswing.Thedeliciousdinnerwe’dhad—takeoutfromMama
Giovanni’s—wasn’tsettlingtoowellinmystomach.Itoldmyselfitwasbecauseoftheswayingoftheswing,butIworried
itwasduetothememoryofDerrickWintersandhisimpressive…messageofimpendingdoom.“Clearlytheguyknowswhat
he’sdoing.WhyelsewouldIbepickedoutofallthewitchesofWestHarbortobetheChosenOne?”
Dinanearlyspatoutherdrink.“Oh,right!Sorry.Iforgot.Yourspellsalwaysworkoutgreat.”
Ilaughed,butYasminlookedconfused.
“Wait.”Shelookedfromhersister-in-lawtome.“Ithoughttherewasthatwholethinginhighschoolwith—”
“HonestlyIamalittleastonishedtheypickedmeandnotyou,”IsaidtoDina,tochangethesubjectfromBilly.“Yourbakesarelegendary.Idon’tknowwhyyouwenttolawschoolinsteadofculinaryschool.”
“Onechefinthefamilyisenough.”DinameantMark,withwhomshe’dmovedinafterreturningtoWestHarborpost–lawschool.
MamaGiovanniwasnothappythatthey’dyettotietheknot.
“Ijustwanttoknowwhatlong-agoinjusticewascommittedhereinthistownthatnevergotrectified,andcreatedthisso-called
rift.”Yasminwaslookingthoughtful.“WestHarbor’scrimerateisreallylow.TheonlythingIcanthinkofthatmightremotely
qualifyistheValentine’sblizzardof2006.Doyourememberthatone?”
DinaandIexchangeduneasyglances,neitherofuscertainhowtoreply,butYasmin,notnoticing,continued.“Salwastelling
meaboutit.WestHarborwasthehardesthitareainthestate.Itcameonsosuddenly,everyonewascompletelyunprepared,
andthepowerwentout,andsomepeoplegottrappedintheircarsontheinterstate?ButIwouldn’tconsiderthatacrime.Itwasjustweather.Itwasn’tanyone’sfault.Itwas…”
Herwordstrailedoffasshefinallycaughtalookatourfaces.Thensheslappedahandoverhermouth,hereyeswideas
shewhispered,“Wait.Wasitsomeone’sfault?Wasit…wasitwitches?Canwitchesdothat?”
“Somewitchescan,”Dinasaid.“Astormwitch,especially.ButJessandIaren’tstormwitches.We’recottagewitches.We
canbothdoamazingmoneyspells,butwehadnothingtodowiththatblizzard.”Herdark-eyedgazenarrowed,sendingmea
clearwarning:Donottalkaboutthiswithmysister-in-law.
Noworries.ThelastthingIwantedtodowasdredgeupthememoryoftheblizzardI—howeveraccidentally—hadahandincausing.
“Butthat’sterrible,”Yasmincried.“DoesthisWitch-Council-whatever-it-ispunishwitcheswhodothat?Generategiantstorms
thathurtpeople?”
“Sure.”Itookabiggulpofmydrink,hopingthealcoholwouldhelp.Itdidn’t.“Itpunishesnonmembers,likeus,whothey
don’tconsidertruewitches.”
NowDinawasrollinghereyesatme.“Ifthewitchhasagoodenoughreason—”
“No,”Isaidfirmly,cuttingDinaoff.“That’sthewholereasontheWorldCouncilofWitcheswasformed,backintheeighties.
Toomanypeoplewererunningarounddoinghorriblethingstootherpeopleinthenameofwitchcraft.Somethinghadtobedone
toseparatethemfromrealwitches,sothisguy—BartholomewBrewster,who’sdescendedfromamanaccusedofwitchcraftinSalem—foundedtheWCW.It
startedoutasatinygroup.”
“Butoverthedecadesthegroup’sgottenbiggerandbigger.”Dinatookovermyexplanation,probablybecauseshewasworried
IwasgoingtostartpoppingoffaboutwhatreallyhappenedthatValentine’sDay.“Especiallyaspeoplehavefoundoutthrough
DNAancestryresearchthatthey’rerelatedtosomeonewhowasonceaccusedofpracticingwitchcraft.AndnowBadOldBart
callshimselftheGrandSorcerer.”
“Wait.”Yasminblinkedatus.“Soaguystartedit?”
“Yes,”Dinasaid.“Ofcourseaguystartedit.Inancienttimes,itwasusuallywomenwhopracticedtheartofhealing.Everysocietyhadgoddessestowhomtheyprayedforhealth,whohelpedsupplytheherbstheyneededtocurewhatailedthem,andmidwivesandpriestessestoapplythem.Itwasmenwhobeganaccusingthesewomenofbeingwitches,andthemedicinetheyusedmagic,becausetheywerefearfuloflosingtheirpowerandstatusinsociety.Sotheyhadthemkilled.Becausemenareandalwayshavebeenjealousofwomen’spower,especiallyourinnatepsychicpower,andalwaysattempttoco-optitwhenever—”
NowIrolledmyeyes.“Dina.Comeon.Notallmen.”
Shescoffed.“Oh,really?Fine.WiththeexceptionofMarkandSalandmaybelikefourotherguysI—”
ThiswasthepointatwhichDina’sbrother,Sal,openedtheporchdoorandsteppedoutside,abottleofbeerinhishand.
“Well,thekidsaredown,finally.Ihadtoreadthemtwochaptersofabookaboutahalfdog,halfmanwhosolvescrimes.
Whatarewetalkingaboutouthere?”
“Oh,notmuch.”Yasminslidoveronthewickercouchtomakeroomforherhusband.HewasaslargeasDinawaspetite.Strangers
foundithardtobelievethetwowererelated.“IwasjustgettingahistorylessonabouttheWorldCouncilofWitches.”
Sallookedpuzzled.“TheWorldCouncilof—?”
“AmancametovisitJessinhershoptoday,”Dinainterruptedherbrother,loudly,“andsaidshewastheChosenOne,and
thatifshedidn’timplantthelightofmagicintoagirl,WestHarborisgoingtobedestroyedbyHalloween.”
“Oh.”Salsuckedonhisbeer.“That’sanewone.Whatgirl?”
IpulledoutthepapersDerrickhadgiventome.Hehadn’ttoldmethatIhadtokeepmymissionasecret,afterall.And
iftherewasanyoneintownIthoughtmightknowEsther,itwasSal.
“Oh,sure,”hesaid,aftergivingthephotoaquickglance.“Iknowher.”
Bingo.Ifeignedsurprise.“Youdo?”
“Sure,”hesaid.“EstherDodge.Smartkid.Quiet.”Afteradevastatingkneeinjurythathadendedhisfledglingprofootballcareer,Salhadsurprisedeveryonebyreturningtocollege,gettinghismastersandPhD,thenbecomingprincipalofWestHarborHigh.Henowruledoverourformerschoollikeafirmbutgentlegiant.“She’sawitch?”
“Onlypotentially.”
“Wait.WeknowtheDodges!”DinapluckedthepagewithEsther’sphotoonitfromherbrother’shand.“TheyownWestHarbor
Brewport!Yaz,wehelpedthemwiththatpropertylinedispute,remember?”
“OhmyGod.”Yasmin’sdarkeyeswentwide.“That’sright.TheDodgesaresofun—theystillgiveusfreenachosatTuesday
NightTrivia.IsEstherasfunasherparents?”
“No.”Salstretched,thenwrappedoneofhiscomparativelymassivearmsaroundhiswife,whosnuggleduptohimforwarmth.
“Esther’sshy.I’vehardlyeverseenhertalktoanyoftheotherkidsinschool.Shedoesn’tdoanyextracurriculars.And
atlunchshesitsundertheEmoDomebyherself.”
“Oh!”Dinaclutchedherheart,lookingstricken.“Thepoorthing!”
“What’sanEmoDome?”Yasminasked.
“It’sthepartofthecafeteriathat’sunderalargecircularskylight,”Salexplained.“It’ssupposedtogivethekidssome
naturallightduringthelongwintermonths,butinsteadallitdoesisfloodeverytimeitrains.”
“Butwhyisitcalled—?”
“Oh,right.Becausethegothanddramaandbandkidstraditionallysitthere.”
“Jesus,dude.”Dinaglaredatherbrother.“Howhaveyoustillnotputastoptothat?”
Salshookhishead,lookingconfused.“Towhat,theflooding?DoyouthinkIhaven’ttried?Noonecanfigureoutwherethewateriscomingfrom.Therooferssayitisn’tcomingfromtheskylight,andtheplumberssayitisn’tcomingfromunderneath—”
“No!TothekidscallingittheEmoDome.It’spejorative.Andthisisthetwenty-firstcentury.Whyarekidsstillsegregating
themselvesintothesedumbgroups,anyway?Thegothsandtheemosandthebandkidsandthejocks.Whycan’ttheyallsit
together?”
“Uh,gee,Dina,I’msorryifthehighschoolwhereIworkisactuallyreflectiveofwhatishappeninginsocietytoday.People
tendtowanttohangoutwithpeopletheylike.Whydon’tyouandJessstarthangingoutwithRosalieHopkins?Whydoyou
havetobesopejorative?”
“That’snotevenhowthatwordissupposedtobe—”
“Wouldyoutwoknockitoff?”Irolledmyeyes.Thiswasoneoftheproblemswithbeingfriendswithabrotherandsister.
Thesquabblingdidn’tend.“MayIremindyouthatwe’vejustbeentoldourtownisinmortalperil?WhocaresabouttheEmo
Dome?Sal,canyouwritemeapassorsomethingsoIcangoovertotheschoolandhavelunchwithEstheronMonday?Idon’t
wanttogetintroublefortrespassingonschoolpropertyasanonparent,orwhatever.”
“Oh,that’ssosweet.”Yasminstrokedherhusband’sarm.“Sal,writeherapass.ThenEstherwon’thavetositaloneunder
theEmoDomeatlunchanymore.”
“No,Ican’twriteherapass,”Salsaid.“Thatwouldbreakabouttenstateandprobablyfederallaws.EspeciallyforJess
tocomeontoschoolpropertyandproselytizeaboutwitchcraft—”
“It’snotproselytizingwhenit’stosavethetown,”Dinasnapped.
“Ihighlydoubttheschoolboardwillseeitthatway,”herbrothersnappedback.
IrealizedasIlistenedtomybestfriendbickerwithherbrotherthatI’dmadeamistake:IprobablyshouldhavekeptmymouthshutaboutDerrick’svisittomyshop.
ExceptthatWestHarborwasasmalltown,andBeccacouldn’tstopblabbingtoeveryonesheknewaboutthetall,handsomestranger
inbikerbootsI’dspentsuchalongtimetalkingtoinmyoffice.They’dhaveheardaboutDerrickeventually.
ButIcouldhavetoldthemwhatI’dtoldBecca:thathe’dbeenaneccentricbillionaire,lookingtobuypropertyintown,
includingEnchantments,asaninvestment,andthatI’dsenthimonhisway.
“Listen,”Isaid,puttingmymugdownontheporchrailingwithathump.“IfthiswholeprophecythingthatDerricktoldme
aboutreallyisasdangerousashesays,maybeIshouldhaveleftallofyououtofit.”
Dinastaredatmewithhermouthhangingopen.“Leftusout?Areyouserious?Ofcourseyouhadtotellus!”
“Yeah,”Salsaid.“IneedtheadvancenoticetogetgasforthegeneratorforwhentheEndofDayscomes.”
Yasmingavehimasourlook.“Ofcourseyouhadtotellus,Jess.Howcouldyoueventhinkotherwise?”Sheturnedherbigbrowneyestowardherhusband.“TheremustbesomewayyoucangetJessicaapasstotalk
toEstherduringschoolhourswithoutupsettingtheschoolboard.”
“Whycan’tJesstalktothekidoutsideofschoolhours?”Salasked.“Thennoneofitwillbemyproblem.”
“Yes,butthenthere’sachanceEsther’sparentswillfindout.”Yasminblinked.“Andyouknowhowpeoplecanbeaboutwitchcraft.”
“ActuallyEsther’sparentswouldprobablybeprettyopen-mindedaboutit.”Dinalookedthoughtful.“RememberlastyearattheBrewport’sHalloweencostumecontest?VirginiaDodgedressedlikeUrsula,thewitchfromDisney’sTheLittleMermaid.Ofcourseyoucan’tguaranteethatanyonewholovesDisneymoviesenoughtodresslikethewitchfromoneofthemisgoing
tobeopentotheideaoftheirkidactuallybeingawitch,but—”
Sallookedupset.“Isn’tUrsulaanevilwitchinthatmovie?Theboyswerejustwatchingit.Thatwitchwasdefinitelyevil.”
“Itdependsonyourpointofview,”Dinasaid.“UrsulamadeabusinessagreementwiththeLittleMermaid—hervoiceinexchange
forapairoflegs—andthentheLittleMermaidtriedtorenegeonthecontract.PersonallyIdon’tblameUrsulaforbeing
pissed.”
“Themermaidwasunderage,”Yasmindisagreed.“Youknowperfectlywellthatcontractssignedbyteenagerscan’tbeenforced
andarethereforevoidable.”
“Whatever,”Dinasaid.“Thefactremainsthatwitchesarenotoriouslymisrepresentedonfilm.Lookatalmosteveryfemale
villainineveryprincessfilmever—”
“Oh,forGod’ssake.”Salstartedtogetup.“Iftheworld’sreallygoingtoend,I’mgoinginsidetoplayasmuchCallofDutyasIcan.”
“Wait!”Yasminturnedtoherhusband.“Whataboutthatmentorprogram?Theonethathelpspairlocalbusinessownerswith
high-achievingstudents,andguaranteesthemcollegescholarshipmoney?Youweretellingmejusttheotherdaythatyouneed
volunteers,soI’msuretheremustberoomforJess—”
Salwinced.“Thatprogramissothatstudentscanlearnabouttheadvantagesofabusinesseducation,”hesaid,“notwitchcraft.”
“I’lltellEstherallaboutthechallengesofbeingafemaleentrepreneur,”Ipromised.“Andwitch.”
“TheBrewportisoneofthemostsuccessfulbusinessesintown,”Dinapointedout.“WhywouldEsther’sparentssignherupforamentor?”
“Hello,”Yasminsaid,rubbingherthumbandfingerstogetherandwavingtheminDina’sface.“Freescholarshipmoney.Doesn’t
matterhowwellyou’redoingfinancially,everyparentwantsmore.Ofcoursethey’regonnasignherup.I’mgoingtosign
theboysupwhenthey’reoldenough.”
Saldroppedhisheadintohishands.“Thisisnothappening.”
“It’sokay,Sal,”Isaid.“I’mtheChosenOne.I’llbeagoodmentortoEsther.Iwon’tletanythingweirdhappentoheror
yourschool.”
“Oh,sure,”Salsaidthroughhisfingers.“YoumeanlikewithBilly?”
Inthestunnedsilencethatfollowed,IcouldhearSal’sneighbors’televisionnextdoor,andfartheroff,thesoftsighof
thesea.Noonespoke—nooneevenseemedtobreathe—untilDinasaid,finally,“Thatwasharsh,Sal.Wayharsh.Youknowthatwasn’tJessica’sfault.”
“Yeah,comeon,Sal.”Yasminlookedmortifiedonherhusband’sbehalf.“BillyiscompletelyoverJessica.He’smarriednow,
withkids.DinaandIsawhimtheotherdayatStewLeonard’s.Heseemsreallyhappy.”
“See?”Ismiled,thoughIwasn’tsureitwasconvincing.“I’mnotsayingBillydidn’tgothroughahardtime—whodidn’t,as
ateenager?Buthe’shappynow.Everybody’shappy.Nowlet’smakesuretheystaythatway.WritemeapasssoIcanmeetwith
Esther.”
Salliftedhishead,buthedidn’tlookthrilled.“Fine.Whatever.Youwitchesaregoingtodowhatyouwantanyway.Youalways
have,andyoualwayswill.”
“Yay!”Yasminflungherarmsaroundherhusband’sneckandkissedhim,whileDinaandIexchangedlooksofrelief.Itwasasmallvictory,butit’simportanttocelebratethesmallvictories.
“Oh,shit,”Dinasaidasecondlater,afterglancingatherphone.“Igottago.Mark’sworkinglateattherestaurant,and
oneofushastogohomeandletthedogsout.Jess,didyouwalkover?Doyouwantalifthome?Orwouldyouratherwalk?”
“Ride,please.”Ionlylivedacoupleblocksaway,butmyfeetwereachingfromhavingbeenonthemallday.TheFallinto
Fallsalehadbeenasuccess,butithadtakenaphysicaltoll.Icouldn’thelpthinkingaboutthewarm,restorativeblanket
inwhichDerrick’stouchhadwrappedmeearlier,andhowithadmadeallmypaindisappear.Wasitonlyhisfingersthatpossessed
thismagicalhealingpower?
OhmyGod,whatwasthematterwithme?
“What’sup?”Dinademanded,aswegotintohercar.“You’resoquiet.You’renotpissedatSalforthatdumbthinghesaid
aboutBilly,areyou?”
“What?”Startled,Ireachedformyseatbelt.“Oh,no.No.Sorry.Iwasthinkingaboutsomethingelse.”
“AboutBilly?Ithoughtyou’dletthatgo.Itwasn’tyourfault.Andhe’scompletelyoveryou.YasminandIreallydidsee
himwiththekidsatStewLeonard’stheotherday.Hehonestlydoesseemhappynow.Ish.”
Thatishcausedmyhearttotwistwithguilt.Ihuggedmyself,eventhoughitwasn’tallthatcoldout.“Iwasn’tthinkingabouthim,
Iswear.”
“Okay,good.”Dinaswitchedontheengine.“BecauseIwanttohearmoreaboutthisguyfromthestorethismorning.Didhe
reallyhavesilvereyes?Becausethat’swhatBeccaisgoingaroundtellingeveryone.”
“Iwouldn’tsaytheyweresilver,exactly….”
Exceptthat,aswepulledawayfromherbrother’shouse,IcouldhaveswornIsawDerrick’ssilvereyesflashatmefrombehindthewheelofaFiat500parkedjustdowntheroad.
Butthatwasimpossible.BecausethatwouldmeanDerrickWintershadbeensittinginanabsurdlysmallcarwatchingmedrink
hottoddiesallnight.
Andthatwastoostupidtopossiblybetrue.Derrick
CallingoneselfaWitch,possessingtheabilitytocastspells,and/orperformingmagick,doesnotmakeoneaTrueWitch.
OnlyproofofdescentfromaknownWitchmakesoneaTrueWitch.
RuleNumberOneoftheNineRules
*WorldCouncilofWitches*
ForamomentDerrickwasconvincedJessicahadspottedhim,eventhoughhe’dchosenhishidingplacewithcare,thencast
notonebuttwoprotectionspellsaroundhisvehicletokeepherfromnoticinghim.Shedidn’tstrikehimasawomanwhowould
takekindlytobeingfollowed,evenifhewasonlydoingittoprotecther.
Butshecertainlywasn’tmakingiteasy,sittingonherfriend’sfrontporchanddiscussingthesituationloudlyenoughfor
alltheworldtohear,whileundertheinfluenceofalcohol,noless.
EveryonewhoknewhimwellknewthatDerricklikedaglassofwhiskyortwonowandthen—butneverwhentherewasworkto
bedone.
Andtherewasplentyofworktobedonerightnow—notthatanyoneinthispretentiouslittlevillageseemedtorealizeit.Derrickhadneverbeenanywherewithsomanyone-waystreets,signsdirectingpeopletothe“sea”—whichturnedoutactuallytobetheLongIslandSound,andsovirtuallywithoutwaves—andorganiccoffeeshopsdesignedtolooklikeEnglishcottages.
Maybethat’swhyeveryoneinWestHarborwassopretentious:theywereallovercaffeinated.
EveryoneexceptJessicaGold,thatis.ShewasnothinglikeDerrickhadbeenexpecting.He’ddonehishomework:shehadan
activeandlivelysocialmediapresence,asonemightexpectforsomeonewhoownedaclothingboutique.
ButthevideosofJessicavampingaroundinhershop’slatestfashionshadn’tpreparedhimfortherealityofmeetingher
inperson:theriotofblackcurlsthatframedherheart-shapedface,thepinkofthatbow-shapedmouth,or,mostdistractingly
ofall,theliquiddepthofthoselargebrowneyes,andherbig,happylaugh
Whyhadn’tanyonewarnedhim?Thatthewomanuponwhomthesuccessofthismissiondependedhadalaughthatmadehisknees
feelunsteady,afacetheperfectshapeforcuppinginhishands,andatasteforminiaturechocolatebars?
Noneofthiswassittingwellwithhim.Noneofthiswasright.Noneofthis—
Thecarhewastailingpulledintothedrivewayofacheerfulyellowcottageamereblockfromthepublicbeach.Jessicagot
outofthepassengerside.
“Goodnight!”shecalledtoherloudfriend.“Thanksfortheride!”
Thefriendsaidsomethingindistinguishable,thendroveaway.Jessicaclimbedthestepstothefrontporchofhercottage.Unliketheyardsofherneighbors,hersdidn’thaveasinglejack-o’-lantern,scarecrow,sheethungtolooklikeaghost,orfakegravestone.Thefrontofhershopdowntownhadbeentastefullydecoratedwithartificialgoldleavestocelebrateboththeseasonanditsowner’slastname,buttherewasnosignthatHalloweenwasapproachingoutsideherhome.
Atleastuntilshereachedthefrontdoor,whenablackcatleapedfromthetidilystackedwoodpileandmether,archingits
backinjoyfulgreeting.
“Pye,”heheardJesssayinanaffectionatetoneasshereachedintoherbagforherkeys—shedid,indeed,lockherownfront
door,despitewhattherestoftheresidentsofWestHarbormightdo—andthecatrubbeditselfagainstherlegs.“Goodboy.
Didyouhaveaniceday?Whatdidyougetupto?Areyoureadyfordinner?”
Hesawthecat’smouthopenandcloseinreply—apinkflash,ameowtoohigh-pitchedforhimtohearfromwherehesat.And
thenbothJessicaandhercatdisappearedthroughthefrontdoorintothewarm,brightlylithouse.Asecondlater,theporch
lightflickedoff,andDerrickwasleftaloneinthedarknessofherroad,watchingtheshadowsforathreatonlyhe—
Hiscellphonerang.Heglancedatthenumberonthescreen,rolledhiseyes,thenansweredit.“What?”
“Andagoodeveningtoyou,too,”thecallersaid,soundingamused.“Whysosurly?”
“BecauseI’minWestHarbor,Connecticut.”Derrickfeltawaveofangerforhavinggottenhimselfintothispositioninthe
firstplace.MaytheGoddessforgivehim.“AmIsupposedtobehappyaboutit?”
“Oh,Idon’tknow.Icanthinkofafewreasonswhyyoumightbe.ButI’mgladyoufollowedmyadvice.”
“Advice?”hegrunted.“Prettysureitwasanorder.”
“Itwasadvice.Inanycase,howisit?”
“Notexactlyhowyou’dsaiditwouldbe.”
“Really?”Thecallersoundedmildlycurious.“Howso?”
BecauseJessicaGoldiswarm.Andbeautiful.Andfunny.Andtrustshim,eventhoughsheshouldn’t.
Butofcoursehecouldn’tsayanyofthat.
“Well,firstofall,becauseyousaiditwassodamnedurgentIgethererightaway,”hesaid,“Iflewhereinsteadofriding,
soIhadtorentacarwhenIarrived.Butbecauseit’ssomethingcalled‘leafpeepingseason,’allthedecent-sizedoptions
weretaken.”
Thecallerlaughed.“Aw!Pooryou.”
“Yeah,well,I’mgladyoufinditfunny,becauseIdon’t.Allthehotelroomsarebooked,too.Sounlessaplaceopensup
soon,I’mgoingtobesleepinginthiscar—”
Thecaller’svoicesharpened.“Youaren’tsupposedtobesleepingatall.You’resupposedtobeprotectingher.”
“AndIwill,”Derricksaid.“Butit’salittlehardwhenyouwon’tletmetellherthetruth.”
“Juststicktotheplan.”Thecaller’svoicesoftened.“Ifyousticktotheplan,everythingshouldworkoutfine.”
Derrickdidn’texpresshisdoubtsaboutthat.Theplanhadbeenmadebeforehe’dknownthatJessicaGoldhadskinthatlooked
assoftassilk,andeyesthatsparkedlikefireworkswhenshelaughed.Andhowmuchhelikedthesoundofthatlaughter.
“Howdoessheseem?”thecallersurprisedhimbyasking.
WhenDerrickreplied,hekepthistonecarefullyneutral.“Good.Alittleconfused,andpossiblyabitfrightened,butwilling
totakeontheassign—”
“NottheGoldwoman,”thecallersaid.“Theotherone.”
“Oh.”Ofcourse.DerrickclearedhisthroatashewatchedabluelightflickerinoneoftheroomsinJessica’scottage.She’d
turnedonthetelevision.Hewonderedwhatshewaswatching,thenfoundthathedidn’tcare.Whateveritwas,hewishedhe
wasinside,watchingitwithher,preferablyonawide,softbed.Butacouchwouldbefine,too.“Ihaven’tseenheryet.”
“Willshebereadyintime,doyouthink?”Thecaller’svoicewasunsteady.
“Idon’tknow.”Derricksurprisedhimselfwiththehonestyofhisanswer.HewatchedthebluelightinJessica’shousedance
andwave.“She’llhavetobe,won’tshe?”
“Yes,”saidthevoiceontheotherendoftheline,soundingsadderthanhe’deverheardit.“Wehavenootherchoice.”Jessica
JournalEntryfrom2006
Alwaysremember:whatthougivetothyneighborwillbereturnedtotheethreefold.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
“Iknowwhatyoudid,”Rosaliesaid.
“Idon’tknowwhatyoumean.”
Iwasn’tlying,either.AlothadhappenedsincethatterribledayI’dfoundoutBillyintendedtogiveuphiscollegescholarship
tofollowmetoNewYork.
I’dheadedstraighthomefromschoolandconsultedGoodyFletcher’sbookonhowtoreversealovespell.
I’dspentthenextfewweekscarryingthetipofaturniprootaroundinmybra.I’dcleanedmyentirehousefromtoptobottom(tothesurpriseddelightofmyparents)toencouragethe“removal”ofnegativeenergy,aswellaslitacandleandleftittoburnovernight(inaplatewhereitwasunlikelytocatchanycurtainsonfire),wishingBilly’sardorformetomeltawaylikethecandlewax.Ievenwrotehisnameonaslipofpaperandstuckitinthefreezer(sincewedidn’thaveanicehouse),allwhilepatientlyexplainingtoBillyoverandoverthat,whileIstillwantedtobefriends,Iwasnolongerinterestedinaromanticrelationship.HeneededtogotoNotreDameinthefalllikehe’dplanned,andlivehisbestlife.
Noneofitworked.Billystillstubbornlyshowedupalmosteverynighttothrowpebblesatmywindowand,whenIpretended
tobeasleep,sobbedandcalledmynameuntilIfinallygaveupandcamedownstairstomeethim.ThelastthingIneededwas
himwakingupmyparents,nottomentiontheneighbors.
Ihaddarkcirclesandbagsundermyeyesfromlackofsleep.Mygradeshadtakenamassivenosedive,andI’dputonaton
ofextraweightfromalltheSnickersbarsIwascomforteating.
MyparentswereplanningahugeeighteenthbirthdaypartyformeatMamaGiovanni’sonSaturdaynight(notmyactualbirthday,whichfellonValentine’sDay,thefollowingTuesday),andIwasafraidtoinviteanyoneexceptmyclosestfriends,
sinceIknewifBillyfoundoutaboutithewasgoingtoshowupandruinit.
ObviouslyRosaliehadseentheexistentialangstonmyface,sensedsomethingwasup,andfollowedmeintothegirls’room
todobattle.
“YouknowexactlywhatImean.”Shewassoangryshe’dforgottentosnapthegumshehabituallychewed.“IknowyouusedalovespellonBilly
Walker,becausethere’snowayhe,ofallpeople,wouldeverfallforahotmesslikeyou.”
“Firstofall,”Isaid,snaggingapapertoweltodrymyhandsfromthedispenser.Ihopedshecouldn’tseethatmyfingers
wereshaking.“Thename-callingisunnecessary.Andsecondofall,thisisConnecticut.WherewouldIevengetalovespell?”
“Cutthebullshit,Jessica.”Rosalie’slipgloss,likeeverythingelseabouther,lookedperfect.Shewasright:therewasnoway,exceptthroughtheuseofwitchcraft,thatabigsloblikemeshouldhavegottenBillyWalkeroverher.Itdefiedthenaturalorderofthings.“Iknowwhensomeoneisscrewingaroundwithmagic.Myeleventhgreat-grandmotherwasaccusedofwitchcraft,righthereinConnecticut.Shewouldhavebeenhangedforit,too,ifshehadn’tbeenrichenoughtobribethejudgetobanishherinstead.”
Icouldn’tbelievewhatIwashearing.“Wow.Sodoesthatmeanyou’reawitch,too?”
“Whatdoyouthink?”Rosaliesentmeawitheringlook.
Okay.SoRosalieHopkins—cheerleader,presidentoftheseniorclass,andshoo-inforpromqueen—wasawitch.
Butmaybe…justmaybe…thiswastheanswertomyprayers.
“Okay,then,I’lllevelwithyou.”Itossedmywadded-uppapertowelintothetrashcanbehindher.Unlikemymom,whoran
anantiquesstoredowntown,IthrewawaythingsIdidn’tneedasquicklyaspossible.“Mymomboughtthisbookatanestate
sale.Itwasinamongstabunchofotheroldbooks.Itturnedouttobeabookofspells.There’salovespellortwoinit,
andIdiduseoneonBilly,butnow—”
Rosalie’smouthhaddroppedopen,revealingherpinktongueandevenpinkergum.“Youhaveagrimoire?”
“Iguess?Idon’tknowwhatthatis.”
Rosalielookedtowardthefluorescentlightsoverhead,seemingtofightforpatience.“Ican’tbelieveyouofallpeoplehaveagrimoirewhenyoudon’tevenknowwhatoneis.You’dbettergiveittome.”
“What?”Rosaliehadalwaysbeenentitledandrude—she’dbeenatmysixthbirthdayparty,too,alongwithBilly,anddemanded
thatIgivehermynewBarbieBallerina—butthisseemedalittlemuch,evenforher.“No.”
“You’vegotto,Jess.Foryourowngood.Youclearlydon’tknowwhatyou’redoing.YouknowBillygaveuphisscholarshiptoNotreDame,right?”
Inodded,swallowingpainfully.“Idon’tunderstandit.I’vedoneeverybindingandbanishingspellinthebook.Idon’tget
whynoneofthemareworking.”
“Therearebindingspellsinthere?Look,youneedtogivemethatbook.Letmebuyitoffyou.Howmuchdoyouwantforit?”Shereachedintoherbulky,overloadedpatent
leatherMarcJacobstoteforherwallet.“Ionlyhaveabouttwohundredonme,butIcangotothecashmachineafterschool
andgetmore.”
“Rosalie.”Icouldn’tbelievethiswashappening.Itwasonlythirdperiod.Iwasn’tevenfullyawakeyet.MaybeIwasstill
dreaming.“Thebook’snotforsale.”
“Don’tbedumb,Jess.Iknowyourparentsdon’thavethekindofmoneyminedo.LetmetakeBillyoffyourhandsbydoing
thelovespellmyself,sohe’llfallformeandleaveyoualone.Thisisawin-winsituationforbothofus.”
Istaredather.Shesoundedexactlylikeherdad—KenHopkinsofHopkinsLuxuryMotors—onthecommercialsthatplayedendlessly
betweensegmentsonthelocalnews.Iwasoperatingonzerosleep,butsuddenly,IdidalmostfeelasifI’dfoundthesolution
tomyproblems.
OrhadI?
“Idon’tknowifthat’sthebestidea,Rosalie,”Isaid.“Lookhowthatspellturnedout.”Igesturedtomyreflection.I
hadn’tevenbotheredunbraidingmyhairthatmorning,letaloneputtingonmakeup.Ilookedlikeahuman-sizedRaggedyAnn
doll.“I’mnothappy.Billy’snothappy—”
“Yeah,that’swhatI’msaying.Ofcoursethespelldidn’tworkrightforyou,”Rosaliesneered.“You’renotdescendedfromanactualwitch.Iam.Magicisinmyblood.”
Iwasconfused.“So?”
“So,”shesaid,withexaggeratedpatience.“Haven’tyouheardoftheninerules?”WhenIstaredblankly,shewenton,“Of
theWorldCouncilofWitches?Establishedin1983?Okay,well,letmeenlightenyou,then:rulenumberoneisthatonlysomeone
descendedfromawitchcanperformactualmagicthatworks.”
Suddenlyallofmytirednessfaded.InotonlynolongerfelttemptedtotakeRosalieuponheroffer,Ifeltthehairon
thebackofmyneckrise.I’dneverheardoftheWorldCouncilofWitchesortheninerulesupuntilthatverymoment.Was
IsurprisedtolearnthattherewassomesecretwitchsocietythatRosalieHopkinsbelongedtobutI’dneverknownexisted?
No.
WasIpissedaboutit?Yes.
“ThatisthestupidestthingIeverheard,”Isaid.“Anditisn’ttrue.Whomadeupthatdumbrule?”
Rosalie,lookingbored,tossedhersmooth,shininghair.“Idon’tknow,Jessica.Idon’tmaketherules.ButIdoknowthatamateursshouldn’tbegoingaroundplayingwithforcestheydon’tunderstand.Lookwhathappened
whenyoudid.Sohandoverthebooktosomeonewhoknowswhatshe’sdoing,andisn’tsomecottagewitch.”
Iblinkedather.“What’sacottagewitch?”
“You.Someonewhojustmessesaroundwithherbsandthingsinherhouseandruinslives.”
Shesaiditlikeshedidn’tknowthatwomenaroundtheworldhadbeenusingherbsandotherplantstohealandnourishthemselves
andothersforthousandsofyears.
Itwasweirdshedidn’tknowthat.Hadn’tsheresearchedthehistoryofwitchcraft?
Thenithitme:ofcourseshehadn’t.Shewasdescendedfromwitches.WhenthefirstruleisthattheonlyTrueWitchisonewhoisdescendedfromawitch,whybotherlearninganythingelse?
Thatwasn’ttheonlyproblemwithRosalie’srules.Theotherproblem(atleastforher)?
Theydidn’tapplytome.
“Magicisforeveryone,”Isaidstubbornly.“Evenso-calledcottagewitches.”
“Oh,yeah?Thenwhydidyourlittlespellgosodisastrouslywrong?”
“Idon’tknow.”Ibeganmovingtowardtheexit.“ButIdon’tthinkgivingthebooktoyouissuchagoodidea.IthinkIshould
probablyhangontoit,andkeepitsafe.Imean,ifasimplecottagewitchlikemecouldcastaspellfromitaspowerfulastheonethatmadeBillyfallinlovewithme,maybeitshouldjustbedestroyed.”
Rosalie’sfacefell.“Wait.No,don’tdothat.That’snot—”
IhadnointentionofdestroyingGoodyFletcher’sbook.ButRosaliedidn’tneedtoknowthat.
“AndIthinkweshouldleaveBillyalone,too.”
Rosalie,herexpressionstunned,steppedinfrontofme,blockingmypath.“Whatdoyoumean,leaveBillyalone?”
“Imeanneitherofusshoulddoanymorespellsonhim.Maybehe’llworkthingsoutforhimselfifwe’djustlethimbe.”
“Workthingsoutforhimself?”Rosalielookedshocked.She’dstoppedchewinghergumagain.“WhywouldIwanthimtoworkthingsoutforhimself?BillyandIweremeanttobetogether.Doyouknowwhohisfatheris?”
Billy’sfatherwasWillWalkerofWalkerHardware.Thereweresevenlocationsinthetristatearea.EveryoneIknewowned
asnowshovelthey’dboughtatWalker’s.
AWalkerandHopkinsunionwouldformoneofthewealthiestfamilydynastiesinWestHarborhistory—possiblyallofConnecticut.
“BillyandIwouldbetogetherbynowifyouhadn’tcomealongwithyourstupidcottagemagicandruinedthings,”Rosalie
wenton.“Butfortunately,Iknowhowtofixit.Justgivemethebook,I’lldothespellandtakehimoffyourhands,and
inaweek,itwillbelikenoneofthiseverhappened,andeverythingwillgobacktonormal.”
Ithoughtaboutit.Ihadtoadmit,theideawastempting.Tobeabletosleepthroughthenightagain?Tohavegoodgrades
again?ToseeBillylaughingandbeingthesweetguyhe’dbeenbeforeanyofthishadhappened?
Yeah,Ithoughtaboutit.Butonlyforasecond.
“No,”Isaid,andshookmyhead.
“Whatdoyoumean,no?”
“Imeanno.WhataboutBilly?”
“Whatabouthim?”
“Shouldn’thehaveasayinthis?Ifthiswholethinghastaughtmeanything,it’sthathumanbeingshavetherighttotheir
ownautonomy,andshouldbefreetolovewhotheywantwithouttheinterferenceofmagic.”
Rosaliesnorted.Sheactuallysnorted.“Oh,please.BoyslikeBillyneedwitcheslikemetotellthemwhattodo,sotheydon’tmakedumbdecisionsthatwillscrewuptherestoftheirliveslike
he’sdoingrightnow.Sojusthandoverthebook,andI’llcleanupthemassivemessyoumade,andeverythingwillbeall
right.”
ButstillIhesitated.Alarmsweresoundinginmyhead—andinmygut.SomethingwastellingmethatgivingthebooktoRosalie
Hopkinswouldbeamassivemistake.
“Ican’t,Rosalie,”Isaid.“I’msorry.Thebooksaysthatwhatyougiveyourneighborcomesbacktoyou,timesthree.If
youdoaspellandyourintentionsaren’t—”
“Oh,no.”Rosalie’sprettyfacetwistedintoamaskofrage.“Don’tyoudaregivemethatRuleofThreecrap.YouknowaswellasIdothatruleslikethatdon’tapplytowitcheslikeme!”
Iknewnosuchthing.AllIknewwasthatthebellhadlongsincerung.Atthesoundofit,afirstyearIhadn’tevenrealized
wasintherestroomwithushadburstfromoneofthestallsand,aftergivingRosalieandmeawild-eyedglance,flewout
thedoor,notevenpausingtowashherhands.That’showmuchshedidn’twanttoengenderRosalie’swrath.
Ishouldhavefollowedher,becausenowallofthatwrathwasfocusedonme.
“Youwanttoworryaboutmyintentions?”Rosaliewasbreathinghardasshestaredatme.“ThenworryaboutwhatIintendtodotoyouifyoudon’tgivemethatbooktoday.”
Idon’tknowwhatIexpectedhertodotome.Hexme,maybe?Putacurseonme?Butcertainlynotwhatshedid,whichwas
glancetowardtherestroom’sceilingtilesand,asecondlater,raiseherarmandcausethemtounleashatorrentofrain
downonme.
Ofcourseitwasn’treallyrainingindoors.WhatRosaliehaddonewassetoffthefiresprinklers.
ButasfarasIcouldtell,shehadn’tdoneitbylightinganythingonfire.She’ddoneitwithhermind,andbymuttering
ashortincantation,noneofthewordsofwhichImanagedtocatch.Iwastoobusyduckingtoavoidthedelugeofwater,and
reevaluatingmypositionongivingherGoodyFletcher’sbook.
“Rosalie,”Icriedfrombeneaththebankofsinks,whereI’dgonetocrouchtoavoidgettingsoaked(itwasn’thelping).“We’re
bothwitches.Weshouldbeworkingtogether,notagainstoneanother.”
Rosalie,whowasstandinginthealcovebythedoorwaywherethesprinklersdidn’treach,andsohadn’tgottenadropofwateronher,lookeddownatmepitilessly.“Nicetry.Butonlyoneofusisarealwitch.Andevenworseforyou?I’mastormwitch.AndI’mgoingtokeepmakingitstormuntilyougivemethebook.”
“Allright.”Icouldn’tbelievethewordswerecomingoutofmymouth.ButIwasfreezingcold,soakingwet,andscrunched
beneathabankofbathroomsinks.WhatelsewasIgoingtosay?“Youcanhavethebook.Justmakethewaterstop!”
Assuddenlyasthecascadeofwaterhadstarted,itstopped,andRosaliewasallsweetnessandlightagain.“There,”shesaid,
smiling.“Thatwasn’tsohard,wasit?”
Irosecautiouslyfrombeneaththesinks.Thefloorandstallsweresoaked.SowasI.“Wheredidyoulearntodothat?”I
askedinwonder.
“Frommygrandmother,”Rosaliesaid,pattingherperfectlystraighthair.“Now,whencanyoudropoffthebook?Ineedit
soon.IwantBillytotakemeoutforValentine’sDay.”
Ofcourseshedid.
“Aboutthat…Ican’tgiveyouthewholebook—butIcangiveyouthespellIusedonBilly,”Iaddedquickly,whenIsaw
theragerushbackintoherprettyface.
“What?”
“Youdon’thavetopaymeforit.Youcanhaveitforfree.AndthenyoucanuseitonBilly,andhe’llbeyours.”Itwent
againsteverythingIthoughtwasright,butitwastheonlywayIcouldthinkoftogetRosalie—andBilly—outofmylife,
andalsonotgetdrownedinmyownschool.“That’swhatyouwant,isn’tit?”
ButbeforeRosaliecouldreply,thedoortothegirls’roomopenedandDr.Fields,ourguidancecounselor,pokedherhead
in,lookingaroundinsurprise.“Whatonearthisallthecommotiongoingoninhere?Whyisitso…wet?”
“Idon’tknow,Dr.Fields.”Rosalie’scoldblueeyeswereliketwinicicles.“Ijustwalkedin.IthoughtIsmelledsmoke,
though.”
Dr.Fieldsfrowned.“JessicaGold,wereyousmokinginthegirls’room?”
“What?No!”
“Well,that’stheonlyreasonthesprinklerswouldhavegoneoff.Comewithmetomyoffice,please.”
“Youroffice?”Icouldn’tbelievethiswashappening.Upuntilafewmonthsago,I’dbeenagoodgirl.I’dneverdoneanything
wronginmylife.Andnowlookwhatwashappeningtome.“Yes,Dr.Fields.”
IcouldfeelRosalie’sicicle-bluegazestabbingholesinmybackasIleft.
ButIdidn’tcareanymorewhathappenedbetweenherandBilly.I’dkeepmywordandgetherthatspell.Whatshedidwith
itwasherproblem.
Jessica
Intoacarafe,mixchocolateandsnowwithsalt.Stirtogetherforsometime.Whenmixed,eatwithspoons.Lastingfriendship
soonwillfollow.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
BynoononMonday,Iwassittinginthesamehighschoolguidancecounselor’sofficeI’dsatinmorethanadecadeearlier.
Atleastthenewguidancecounselor(whosetitlewasnowapparently“studentsuccesscoach”)wasthankingmeforshowingup,insteadofmethankingherfortakingthetimeoutofherbusydaytohelpkeepmefromgettingdrownedby
RosalieHopkins.
“Youdon’thaveanyideahowhardit’sbeentogetvolunteersforthisnewmentoringprogram,”Dr.Garciawasgushing.“We’ve
beentryingtogetthewordout,butpeoplesimplydon’tseemtoberesponding.”
“Well.”Icouldn’thelpstaringattheposterhangingbehindherhead.Withallthetechnologicaladvancementsinthepastdecadeandahalf,couldtheynothavecomeupwithsomenewmotivationalpostersforcounselingoffices?Thisonewasofadaffodilsproutingfromtheearth,andurgedmetoBloomwhereyou’replanted.ItwasalmostidenticaltotheposterDr.Fieldshadhadupinheroffice!Ugh
Exceptwasn’tthisexactlywhatIhaddone,byreturningtomyhometownaftercollegeandbuyingahomeandbusinesshere?
Coulditbethattheinspirationalmessagesonthepostersintheguidanceofficeatmyhighschoolhadactuallyworked?
“Everyoneissobusythesedays,Iguess,”Isaid,draggingmygazefromtheposter.“Especiallywiththetricentennialcoming
up.”
“You’reright.”Dr.Garciashookherhead,thenbrightened.“Butanyway,IthinkyouandEstheraregoingtobeagreatmatch.
I’msogladDr.DiAngelothoughtofpairingupthetwoofyou!”
“Me,too.”
Ha!LikeanyofthishadbeenSal’sidea.Infact,whenhe’dseenmeentertheadministrativeoffices,he’dhurriedawayin
theoppositedirection—notrunning,exactly,butmovingasquicklyasamanhissizecouldwithoutbreakingintoasprint.
ButthepaperworkformymentorshipwithEstherhadbeenapprovedandwaswaitingatthefrontdesk,soIcouldn’tbemad
athim.
“Now,don’tbediscouragedifEstherseemsalittleontheshyside,”Dr.Garciawarnedme.“She’snotexactlyanextrovert,
likeyou,Jessica.ButIthinkonceyoubreaktheice,you’llfindthatshe’sadeeplyintelligent,intellectuallycurious
girl.Notexactlyajoiner,butverywillingtolearn,ifyoucanjustgethertoopenup.”
“Great.”Iclutchedmybag—thelargesttoteIowned—intowhichI’dstuffedmysecretweapon:aplasticcontainerfullofthe
sweetbakedgoodsthatDinahadspentSundayafternoonwhippingupfortheoccasion.
Itwasdevious.Itwasunderhanded.
Butitwasexactlywhatanygoodcottagewitchwoulddo…andwhatIneededifIwasgoingtosaveWestHarbor…
…andgetridofDerrickWintersandhisdistractingsilvereyes.
“Now,I’mnotsureexactlywhatperiodEstherhasnext.”Dr.Garciaturnedtowardherdesktop.
“Lunch,Ithink?”Ifeignedignorance.“It’snoon,so…”
Thestudentsuccesscoachseemedsurprisedwhenhercomputermonitorconfirmedthenews.“Oh,yes.Well,lookatthat.You’re
right!Estherhaslunchnow.AlthoughIdon’tknowhowyou’regoingtofindher—”
“Oh,”Isaid,risingconfidentlyfrommychair.“I’llmanage.Iusedtogohere,afterall.”
Dr.Garciasmiled.“That’sright!Well,don’tforgettowearyour—”
IwavedthesecuritybadgethathungfromalanyardaroundmyneckasIbackedoutofheroffice.“Gotit.”
“Oh.”ThephoneonDr.Garcia’sdeskbegantoring.Sheglancedatitdistractedly.“Oh,dear.Theseniorparentsthisyear—they’re
sodemanding.”
Iwavedasshepickedupherphone,andmouthed,pointingathercardigan,whichI’dorderedjustforher,Itlooksgood!
Thankyou!shemouthedback.
ThenIshoulderedmytotebagandsetoff.
OnethingI’dforgottenintheyearssinceI’dgraduatedfromhighschoolwasjusthowyoungteenagerswere.HadIreallyeverbeenthissmall,thisfresh-faced,thisawkward,andthisanxious?SinceIcouldn’tbringmyselftolookatmydiariesfromwhenIwasinhighschool,thatprobablyansweredthequestion.
Thatandthewaymypalmsgotclammyjustreachingtopullopenthedoorofthecafeteria.
ThekidswhocameintomyshoptotryonmyclotheswereoftengigglyandoccasionallyevenshrillintheirexcitementwhenIhelpedthemfindtheperfectgiftoraccessory.
ButthewallofsoundthathitmeasIenteredthecafeteriaofWestHarborHighwasathousandtimeslouderthanthatbecause
itwasjoinedbytheclankofsilverwarehittingplasticmealtrays,thethunderandsqueakofrubber-soledathleticshoes
againsttileflooring,aswellasthecacophonyofteenagedvoices,alltryingtobeheardoverthesoundofthevideogames
theywereplayingontheircellphones.That,plusthesightofthehokeyHalloweendecorationsonthewallsandtheoverwhelming
smellofindustrialstrengthcleanerandburntpizzabroughtmerightbacktothemid-2000s.
ThankGodI’dhadDinaandMarkand,yes,evenGoodyFletcher’sbooktohelpmethroughmyteenagedyears.Otherwise,Imight
haveendeduplikethesmall,forlornfigureIimmediatelyspottedsittingallbyherselfbeneaththeEmoDome.
Esther.
I’dhaveknownheranywhere,andnotjustbecauseDerrickhadgivenmeherphotoandshewastheonlyAfricanAmericangirl
inglassesundertheDome.Butalsobecauseshewaswearingablackzipperedsweatshirtoverherschoolsweatervest,black
Conversehigh-topsbeneathheruniformkhakis,andwasintentlyreadinganactualbookwithwhatlookedlikeahomemadeblack
knittedbookcoveroverit.Thejurywasstilloutoverwhethershewasawitch,butshecertainlyhadthelookdown.
“Esther?”
Withalltheanarchyaroundus,thegirlhadn’tnoticedmeapproach.Sheglancedupfromherbookatthesoundofhername,
herdarkeyeswide.“Yes?”
“Hi.I’mJessicaGold.”Islidontothebenchacrossfromher.Thetablesinthecafeteriamusthavegottenalotsmallerthantheyusedtobe,becauseitseemedlikeatighterfitthanthelasttimeI’deatenthere.“Yournewmentor.FromReachfortheSky—localshelpinglocalsreachtheirgoals?IownEnchantments,theclothingboutiqueoveronthePostRoad.”
Thegirlcontinuedtostareatmeunsmilingly.Allaroundus,chaosreigned.Downthetable,agroupofboyswerescreaming
inexcitementasoneofthemwonagamehewasplayingonhiscellphone.Thenumberoffour-letterwordstheboysusedto
celebratethisvictorywasastonishingeventome,andIenjoyedagoodswearword.
Estherseemedoblivioustothedin.“Right,”shesaidfinally,andgaveoneoftheprotectivebraidsintowhichshe’dtwisted
herlong,darkhairaflick,soitsettledbehindhershoulderwiththeothers.“Dr.Garciasaidyou’dbecomingby.”
“Yes!”Igavehermybiggestsmile.Shewasprettierinpersonthanshe’dbeeninherpicture,withstrikinglylargeeyes
andapoutymouth.Shewassoslim,agoodbreezeofftheSoundmighthaveblownheraway—probably,Inoted,becauseshewasn’t
eatingproperly.
“Didyounotgetlunch?”Iasked,realizingtherewasnothinginfrontofher—notray,nosandwichcontainer,notevenabag
ofchips,onlyarefillablemetalwaterbottle.“Aren’tyouhungry?Youweren’twaitingtoeatuntilIgothere,wereyou?”
Shegavemeatiny,politesmile.“No.Inormallydon’teatlunch.”
“Oh,youhavetoeatlunch!It’sthesecondmostimportantmealoftheday,afterbreakfast.”
“Isit?”Hereyebrowswereraisedskeptically.
“Itabsolutelyis.”Itriednottoallowmyselftobedistractedbythefactthatthegamersdownthetablewerenowsittingontheactualtabletop,andthumpingtheirfeetexcitedlyagainstthebenchIwassittingoneverytimetheyscored.“Yourbraincan’tretaineverythingit’slearninginschoolifyou’renoteatingenough.Didyouknowyouburnmorecarbsthinkingthanyoudoworkingout?”
“Youdo?”
“Well,okay,maybenotwhileworkingout,butdefinitelywhiledoingmathandstuffasopposedtoveggingoutinfrontof
theTV.”Iturnedtomytotebagandbeganriflingthroughit.“Here,Ibroughtyousomebrownies,homemadebymyfriendDina.
She’sanamazingbaker—”
Asafellowcottagewitch,DinawasalsoasawareasIwasthatcocoa,butter,andsugarpromotedfeelingsofpeaceandharmony,
bothofwhichcameinhandywhentryingtomakefriendswithapossibleteenwitch.
ForthefirsttimeEstheractuallylookedinterestedinsomethingIwassaying.Sheleanedforwardsothatshecouldseeinto
mytote.“Aretheyveganbrownies,byanychance?”sheasked.“BecauseI’mvegan.”
Iwinced.“No.Sorry.”
“Well,Iguessitwouldn’thurttotryone.”EsthershruggedherslimshouldersasIpriedthelidoffthecontainer,and
thescentoffudgybrowniefilledtheair.
“Hereyougo.Helpyourself.”
“Thanks.”Estherselectedoneofthesmallerbrowniesandbitintoitdelicately.Asecondortwolater,herfacetransformed,
goingfrommerelyprettytooutrightbeautifulasshesmiled—agenuinesmilethistime,notoneofpoliteness.“Wow.This
isreallygood.”
Wasthisit?Wasthisthelight?HadIimplanteditmerelywithmypresenceandDina’sgoodbaking?
Butno,itdidn’tappearso.Butter,cocoa,andsugarweremerelymakingherhappy.
“Thanks.So,uh…yourparentsowntheWestHarborBrewport?”
Shenodded,concentratingontheflavorsinhermouth.“Yes.”
“That’sagreatplace.Igotherealot.IbelongtoateamthatcompetesonTuesdayNightTrivia.”
Hersmileturnedpoliteagain.“Oh?”ThemedianageofattendeesoftheBrewport’strivianightwasaroundthirty-five,so
Icouldseehowthisinformationwasnotexactlyimpressive.“Mymomanddadwantmetostarthostessingthere.Theywant
meto‘comeoutofmyshell’astheycallit.”Shemadeairquoteswithherfingers.“Andalsolearnhowtomanagemymoney
anddevelopastrongworkethic—whichIthinkIalreadyhave,butwhatever.”
“Oh,really?”Ipointedatthebookinfrontofher.“Youlooklikeahardworkertome.Doinghomeworkatlunch?”
“Oh,thisisn’thomework,”wasEsther’ssurprisingreply.She’dfinishedherfirstbrownieandwasnowdiggingintotheplastic
containerforasecond,largerpiece,herveganismapparentlyforgottenforthemoment.“It’sabookI’mreadingforfun.
DidyouknowthatthefirstcitizenofAmericaevertobetriedandhangedforwitchcraftwasawomaninHartford,Connecticut?
Andithappenedin1647!That’salmostfiftyyearsbeforetheSalemwitchtrials.”
Istaredather.“Ididknowthat.”Hadn’tSal—andDr.Garcia—saidthisgirlwasshy?Shedidn’tseemshytome.Also,had
shesaidwitchcraft?Shewasreadingabookonwitchcraftforfun?HadthelightbeenimplantedwhenIwasn’tlooking?“AretheyteachingthatinU.S.Historynow?Becausetheysuredidn’t
whenIwasinschoolhere.”
Esthersnorted.“Oh,please.IonlyknowbecauseIsawsomethingaboutitintheTricentennialCelebrationstuff.AtonofwomenwereaccusedofwitchcraftrighthereinWestHarbor.Orrather,thesettlementthatwouldgoontobecomeWestHarborintheseventeenhundreds.”
“Oh.”Ofcourse.RosaliewasheadoftheTricentennialCelebrationCommittee.Shewouldhavemadesurethatinformationabout
herwitchygreat-great-grandmothergotout.“Isee.”
“Ithoughtitwassointeresting,Iwentandaskedthelibrarianhereattheschoollibraryiftherewerebooksaboutit,
andshefoundthisforme.”Shepeeledbackthebook’scoversoIcouldseethetitle:AHistoryofWitchTrialsinWesternEuropeandtheU.S.,1500–1700
“Andhowareyoulikingit?”Iasked,ridiculouslynervousaboutherreply.
Esthertookaswigfromherwaterbottleandshruggedagain.“Idon’tknow.Obviously,it’sprettyupsetting.Somanyofthe
peoplewhowereaccusedofwitchcraftinthosedayswerewomenwho’dinheritedwealthorpropertyfromtheirhusbands.When
theydidn’twanttoremarryorselltheirpropertytocertainmen,bang!Theywerefoundguiltyoffraternizingwiththedevil,
hanged,andthatpropertysuddenlywenttotheirneighbors.Prettyconvenient,don’tyouthink?”
Inoddedandbrokeoffapieceofoneofthebrowniesinthecontainer,thenshoveditintomymouthtokeepmyselffromsaying
thewrongthinginreply.
“Andsomeoftheotheraccused,”Estherwenton,havinggottenagoodheadofsteamgoing,“werejustpeopleothervillagers
haditoutfor.Midwiveswho’dhadababydieonthemthroughnofaultoftheirown,orpoorwomenwhospokeilloftherich
menincharge.Thewholethingissimplemisogyny.Onewomangotaccusedbecauseherneighborsawherdancingunderatree
afteracoupleofglassesofwine.Canyouimagine?”
ThinkingofRosalie,whowoulddefinitelycomplainifshesawherneighbordancingtipsilyunderatree,Isaidonly,“Icould,actually.”
“Andhere’swhatgetsme:people—especiallywomen—arestillbeingaccusedofwitchcrafttoday,allaroundtheworld.Weneed
tosetanexamplethatpersecutingwomenfortheirbeliefsiswrong.Massachusettshasofficiallyexoneratedeveryonewho
wasexecutedforwitchcraftinSalem.Thatneedstobedoneeverywhere.”
OhmyGod.Thiswasit.Thishadtobeit.Thelighthadbeenimplanted—byeducation.AllI’dhadtodowasshowupwithbrowniesandlisten.
“Maybethat’ssomethingyoucouldhelpwith,”Isuggested.
“Whatdoyoumean?Likegointopolitics?”
“Well,no,notthat,exactly.”
Iwasreallyflounderinghere.TherehadtobesomewayIcouldfindoutifEstherwastheBringerofLightbeforethebell
rang,andshehadtoreturntoclass.Whyhadn’tDerrickgivenmemoreinformationaboutjustwhat,exactly,Ineededtodo
inordertodeterminewhetherornotthisgirlwasrightforthejobofsavingWestHarbor?
“Whataboutwriting?”Ipunted,sinceIcouldn’tbringmyselftosaythewordsDoyoubelieveinmagic?toher.“Journalism?Isthatsomethingyou’dwanttostudyincollegeor…?”
“Journalism?”Esthermadeaface.“No.WhatIreallyloveisscience.I’mthinkingaboutmajoringinpsychology.There’sa
mentalhealthcrisisinthiscountry.Thedemandforpsychologistsisoffthecharts—asyoucanprobablytell.”Shesenta
menacinglookinthedirectionoftheboys.“Braydenoverthereisaprimeexampleofakidinneedofdialecticalbehavior
therapy.”
ThatwasnotatallwhatIwasexpectingtohearfromasixteen-year-old.Granted,Idon’tnormallyhangaroundsixteen-year-olds—excepttopassthemitemstheywantedtotryonthroughthedressingroomcurtainsatmyshop.
Still,IwasprettysurethiswasexactlythekindofthingtheBringerofLightwouldsay.Andevenifthiskidwasn’tthe
saviorofWestHarbor,IwassurprisedtofindthatIlikedherenoughthatIactuallywantedtobehermentor—heracademic
mentor,notherwitchmentor.Althoughbothwouldbefinewithme.
“Thatsoundsamazing,”Isaid.ThenIadded,“Youknow,workinginfashionretailcanbealittlelikebeingatherapistin
someways.Peopleneedalotofpositivereinforcementandreassurancewhiletryingonnewclothes.”
Esthersmiledatme,goinginforathirdbrownie.“MybestfriendGabriellalovesyourstore.She’salwaysintherebuying
stuff—likethoseloungepantsyousell,thetie-frontonesinthedifferentprints?You’rewearingapairnow.”
“Oh,thebambooloungers.”Inodded,feelingevenmorebuoyed.IwasgladEstherhadabestfriend.AndofcourseIloved
itwhenanyonesaidsomethingpositiveabouttheshop.IhopedBeccawashavinganokaytimerunningitwithoutme.Butit
wasaMondaymorningafteraweekendsale,whenthingswereusuallyslow,soshe’dprobablybefine.“Yes,they’reverypopular.
Sosoftandflowyandromantic.”
“Yeah,”Esthersaid.“Well,Gabby’saPisces,soshelovesanythingflowyandromantic.”
IpausedasIreachedforanotherbrownie.“Youlikeastrology?”
“Iloveit,”Esthersaid.“Ofcourseastrologyisapseudoscience,butIfindthataperson’sstarsigncanoftenbesurprisingly
accurateaboutmanyoftheircharactertraits.”
IwasalreadytryingtofigureouthowIwasgoingtoreportthistoDerrick.Hedidn’texactlystrikemeassomeonewhoput
awholelotoffaithinstarsigns.
“Well,”Isaid.“Idon’tknowifyoucandefinitively—”
“Likeyou.”Estherwaspolishingoffherfourthbrownie.Andtheywereprettybigbrownies,too.“Aquarius,right?”
Istaredather.“Howdidyou—?”
“It’sprettyobvious.You’vegottheflowyromanticthinggoingonwithhowyoudress,too,justlikeGabs.Butyou’rereserved—until
yougettoknowsomeone.Thenyou’rewarmandfriendly.SoyouhavetobeAquariusonthecuspofPisces.AValentine’sDay
baby,maybe?”Atthesightofmystunnedexpression,shenodded.“Yeah,thatmakessense,becauseyoudefinitelyseemlike
thecreativetype—andaromantic,eventhoughyou’vebeenabitdisappointedbylove,haven’tyou?”
Istaredharder.Imightevenhavebeengogglingather.“H-how—?”
“Ithasn’tmadeyoubitter,though,”sheaddedhastily,mistakingmywonderfordisapproval.“Youbelieveinlove.Youjust
thinkit’sbettertobealonethanwiththewrongperson.WhichissototallyAquarian,andIsototallyget.Nopointin
wastingtimeonbadcompany.Oh,andyou’reawitch,right?Butagoodwitch—atleast,youtrytobe.”Sheshoveledthelargest
bitofbrownieyetintohermouth.
Igapedather.“How—howdidyou—?”
Shetookhertimechewingandswallowing.“Well,thewitchpartwaseasy.”ShepointedatthependantI’dforgottenIwas
wearingaroundmyneck
“Y-you,”Istammered,fingeringit.“You’veheardofGaia?”
“Sure.Hasn’teverybody?She’slike,MotherNature,right?”
“Um…yes.Buttherestofit…How…?”
Then,asthetableweweresittingonshookbecauseBraydenwonthegamehe’dbeenplaying,andwasstompingaroundontopofitintriumph,Estherbangedherwaterbottledownandshouted,“Brayden!WhathaveItoldyouaboutputtingyourfeetonthetable?Get.Down!”
Ontheworddown,thecafeteriatablewhereweweresittinggaveamightywobble—onlythistimeitwasn’tbecauseanyonewasstompingonit.
Itwasasifamassivehandreacheddown,graspedtheendofthetablewheretheboysweresitting,lifteditafewinches
intheair,andshookit.
Onlytherewasnooneattheotherendofthetableliftingittoshakeit.
Andwhentheshakingstoppedasabruptlyasitstarted,anashen-facedBraydenclimbedmeeklydownfromthetabletopandmumbled
hisapologiestoEsther.
“Sorry,”hesaid,bowinghisheadalmostasiftoaqueen.“Mybad,bro.”
Estherrolledhereyestolerantly.“I’mnotyourbro.”
“ImeanEsther,”hesaid.
Estherglancedbackatmeandgrimacedapologetically.“Braydencan’thelpit.He’sanArieswithADHD.”
Igazedinaweattheteenagedgirlsittingacrossfrommeasshedugintothelastbrownie.
“H-howdidyoudothat?”Idemandedbreathlessly.Ihadn’tseenadisplayofmagicthatpowerfulsince—well,sinceRosalie.
“Idon’tknow.”Shegaveanothershrugandsippedfromherwaterbottle.“It’sjustathingI’vealwaysbeenabletodo.Gabby
saysI’vegotthe‘gift.’Idon’tknowifthat’strue,butwhateveritis,IfigureitwillcomeinhandywhenIgotocollege.
Keepthefratboysintheirplace!”Shelaughed.
Itwasfortunatethatthebellrangjustthen,becauseIwastooshockedtosayanythingmore.Ihad,Iknew,foundWestHarbor’s
BringerofLight
“Well,Ibettergettoclass,”Esthersaid,scoopingupherbook,waterbottle,andenormousblackbackpack.Shelookedatmecuriously,probablybecauseIwasjustsittingthereinstunnedsilence.“Butthiswasnice.Weshoulddoitagainsometime.”
“Yes.”Irousedmyself.“Weshould.Tomorrow?”
Hereyeswidened.“Thatseemsabitsoon,butIguessifitfitsyourschedule—”
“Itdoes!”
“Oh.Well,IdowanttogotoNYUtohavetheurbanexperience,butmyparentssaythatplaceisstupidexpensive.SoIcould
reallyusethatscholarshipmoney.”
“Great.”Iquicklypulledmycellphone—andsomethingelse—frommybag.“Let’sexchangenumbers,andthenwecanfigureout
atimetomeetagain.”
“Oh.”Shecouldnothavelookedlessenthused.“Okay.Sure.”
Ithappenedsoquickly,shedidn’tnotice.Asshewastyping,Islippedtheamethyststonefrommynecklaceintoasidepocket
ofherbackpack.
AftereverythingthathadhappenedwithBilly,I’dsworntomyselfneveragaintousemagiconsomeonewithouttheirpermission.
Butthiswasdifferent.Thiswastoprotectsomeone.
DidIfeelbadthatIwaslyingtoachild?No.IfDerrickwasright,andcatastrophewascomingtoWestHarbor,itwould
beworthit.
Besides,welietochildrenallthetimeaboutthingslikeSantaClausandtheToothFairy.Thenwhentheygetolderwetell
themotherlies,likethatthere’snosuchthingasmagic.WhatIwasdoingseemedmildincomparison,especiallyconsidering
themagicI’djustwitnessedEstherusewithmyowneyes.
AfterEstherthankedmepolitelyformytimeandthebrowniesandheadedbacktoclass,Inoticedtheboysfollowher,murmuringamongstthemselvesinwhatIfeltwasasemi-worshipfulmanner.Surprisingly,Braydeninparticularlookedsmitten.
MyGod.Estherhadn’tbeensittingalonebecauseshehadnofriends.She’dbeensittingalonebecauseshewantedsometime
toherself.Estherwasateenagedwitchqueen.
IpackedupDina’snow-emptybrowniecontainerandthen,lookingdownatmyphone,textedDerrick.
Hi,it’sJess.MetwithEsther.Prettysureshe’sourBringerofLight.When/wheredoyouwanttomeettotalkaboutit/plan
nextsteps?Letmeknow.
Iputmyphoneaway,shoulderedmybag,andheadedtowardtheclosestexit,whichfortunatelyledstraightouttothelot
wheremycarwasparked,sinceIcouldseethroughtheskylightoverheadthatitlookedlikerain—whichwasoddbecausethe
skyhadbeenabright,cloudlessbluewhenI’dwalkedintotheschool.
Then,justasIwasabouttoreachtheexit,mygazefellonafoldingtablesetupnearthesodamachines,withasignhanging
fromitthatscreamed:
SIGNUPHEREFORTHECHANCE
TOBEAWESTHARBORHARVESTPRINCESS!
Getcollegescholarship$$$
forhelpingyourhometowncelebrateitsTricentennial!
I’dneverheardofaHarvestPrincessbefore.ButIwassoshockedattheregressiveantifeministsoundofitthatittookmeafewsecondstonoticetheslimwomaninthepalepinksweatersetandtweedslacksstandingbehindthetable,staringatme,hatredinherice-coldblueeyes:
Ofcourse.Whoelse?RosalieHopkins.
Evenworse,besideherstoodatall,broad-shoulderedmaninacrewnecksweaterandkhakis,lookingeverywherebutatmyface:
BillyWalker.
Derrick
AnyspellscastbyaWitchmustbetoseekharmonywith—notharm—humansandtheearth.
RuleNumberTwooftheNineRules
*WorldCouncilofWitches*
DerrickgulpeddowntheremainderofthecoffeeinhiscompostablecupfromWakeUpWestHarbor.Hehadtoadmititwasn’t
theworstcoffeehe’deverhad.Itwasactuallyprettygood.
Healsofeltmuchmoreawake,whichwasareliefafterthemiserablenighthe’dspentinthecrampedseatofhisrentalcar
outsideJess’scottage.AtleastnowhewasbetterabletofocushisgazeonthefrontdoorsofWestHarborHigh,through
whichhe’dwatchedherdisappearanhourearlier.
Forsucharelativelysmalltown,WestHarborseemedtohaveadecenthighschool.Thisoneboastedaneleven-hundred-seat
auditorium,anewlyresoddedfootballfield,andafour-bayautoshopgaragewithtwolifts.
Heonlyknewthislastpartbecausehecouldseetheliftsfromwherehewasparked,sincethebaydoorshadbeenopento
letintheseabreeze.Someofthekidshadevencomeoutoftheshoptovapeandenjoythewarmmiddaysunontheirfaces.
Atleastuntilthatsunsuddenlydisappearedbehindadarkbankofclouds.Thewindpickedup,too,rightaroundthetime
hereceivedatextfromJessicasayingthatshethoughtthegirlwastheBringerofLight.Thewindsentautumnleavesstreaming
pasthiscar,andcausedthekidstoduckhastilyinside.TheAmericanandConnecticutstateflags,whichhadbeenhanging
limplyfromapolejustoutsidetheschool’sfrontdoors,swelledandsnappedinthegale,andthunderrumbled—notinthe
distance,butseeminglydirectlyabovehim.
Derrickdecidedtorechecktheweatherapphecouldhaveswornhadtoldhimonlyafewhoursearlierthatthedaywouldbe
clear.Yes.ItstillsaidconditionsinWestHarborweresunny,withzeropercentchanceofprecipitation.Whatwasgoingon?Hewasusedtothe
changeableweatherconditionsoftheplainsoutwest.NoonehadwarnedhimitcouldbelikethisontheEastCoast,aswell.
Wasthisbecausetheywerenearthesea?Orweremoreinsidiousforcesalreadyatwork?
Thenheheardabang.Heswiveledinhisseat—asmuchashecouldintheconfinedspace—tomakesurethekidsintheauto
shopwereallright,butitturnedoutthesoundhadn’tcomefromthere.Itcamefromasidedoorintheoppositedirection.
ThroughthatsidedoorburstJessica,apanickedlookonherface.Sheranacrossthecourtyardtowardtheparkinglotas
ifshewasbeingchased,thoughasfarasDerrickcouldsee,therewasnoonebehindher.
Thentherewasablindingflashoflightning—sobrightthatitilluminatedtheentireschoolyard—andthunderboomedagain,
thistimesoundingasifitwasdirectlyovertheschool.
Andthefirsthailstonehit.
Derrickhadbeeninhailstormsbefore.Theyhappenedfrequentlyoutwest—thoughnotasoftenassnowstorms.
He’drarelyseenhailstonesthisbig,however.Thefirstonelandedwithathudonthehoodofhisrentalcar.Hestaredatitinconfusion,thinkingthatmaybesomekidswereplayingbaseballoutoveronthefieldhe’dseenbehindtheschool,andsomeonehadjusthitareallylonghomer.
That’showbigthishailstonewas.Baseball-sized.
Then,whenhesawthedentinhishoodandrealizedwhatwasactuallyfallingoutofthedarkgraycloudsoverhead,heglanced
atJessica.Shehadfrozeninthemiddleofthecourtyard,halfwaybetweenthedoorshe’djustburstthroughandtheparking
lot.Hecouldpracticallyhearthewheelsofhermindspinningasshetriedtodecidewhichwasfaster—adashbackintothe
school,ortoherowncar?
“Theschool.Getbackinside,”hegrowled,switchingontheignitiontohisownvehicleashailstonescontinuedtosmashall
aroundit—andsomeontopofit,judgingbythethumpshewashearingontheroof.
Butforsomereason,Jessicadecideditwassafertomakearunforhercar.Shebegansprintingacrosstheschoolcourtyard
ashailcrasheddownaroundherlikerockshurledfromsomeunseencatapult.
“Whatareyoudoing,Jessica?”Derricksmashedhisfootdownonthegaspedal.Forsuchasmallcar,theFiathadasurprising
amountofpickup.“Whatthehellareyoudoing?”
She’dclearlymadethewrongchoice.Sheonlygotasfarasthesidewalkwhenthelargestofthehailstonesbegantofall,
smashingtothegroundallaroundherasiftargeteddirectlyather.Fortunatelythereseemedtobesomethinghardinthe
totebagshe’dliftedoverherhead.Itwasactingasaprotectiveshieldagainsttheprojectiles,savingherfromconcussion.
Butitcouldn’tprotecttherestofherbody,whichwastakingabeating…atleastuntilDerricksteeredthecarupoverthecurbandontothesidewalk,slammedonthebrakes,thenleanedovertothrowopenthepassengersidedoor.
“Getin!”
Jessicahurledherselfintothelittlecar,slammingthepassengerdoorclosedbehindher.Hewasn’tsuresheevenknewwho
wasbehindthewheel.
“Drive,”wasallshesaid,pantinghardasthehailpeltedthetinyvehicle.“Getoutofhere.Drive,drive!”
Derrickdidn’taskquestions—then.Hejammedonthegas,sendingthemskiddingacrossthehail-slicksidewalkandbumping
downthecurbbackontothecirculardriveway.Thenheheadedstraightfortheschool’sexit.Allthetime,thundercrashed
above,andhailpeltedthecar.
“Areyouallright?”heasked,sendingherwhatworriedglanceshecouldsparefromtheroadashetriedtomaneuverthrough
thestorm.“Areyouhurt?”
“I’mfine.”Shewasn’tmovinglikesomeonewithsignificantinjuries.She’dloweredthetotebagtothefloorofthecarand
slippedonherseatbelt.Pushingherdampdarkcurlsfromherface,shelookedoverathiminconfusion.“Whatareyoudoing
here?”
“‘Thankyouforsavingmylife,Derrick,’”hesaidashedrove,sarcastically.Hehadnoideawherehewasgoing.Everystreet
inthistownlookedthesametohim,eachdottedwithpicturesqueColonial-stylehousesandshops,exceptwherethelandmet
thesea.Thereitwasdottedwithtouristylobstershacksordocks.
Butitdidn’treallymatter,becauserightnoweverywherehelooked,allhesawwashail.Theyweredrivingatacrawlwhilethewipersworkedfranticallytoclearthestonesawaysohecouldsee.Aspiderycrackhadbeguntoformacrossthewindshieldwherealargerstonehadpeltedaholeintoit.He’dhavequiteastorytotelltherentalcarpeople.
“Oh,you’rewelcome,Jessica,”hecontinuedinthesamesarcastictone.“Itwasmypleasure.SogladIcouldbetheretorescue
youwhentheriftbeneathyourtowntoreopenandunleashedmeteorologicaldeathuponyou.Doesthiskindofthinghappen
oftenaroundhere?Becauseweirdly,theydidn’tmentionitonTripadvisor.”
Shegrimacedassheproddedtenderlyatoneknee.“Thisonewasn’ttherift.ItwasRosalieHopkins.”
“What?”Heslammedonthebrakes—notbecausehewasshockedatwhatshe’dsaid,butbecausethecarinfrontofthemhadstopped.
Shenodded.“Ididn’tseeheratfirst,butitturnedoutshewastherethewholetimeIwastalkingtoEsther.”
“Didsheseeyou?”Hedreadedthephonecallheknewhewasgoingtohavetomake,explainingallofthis,eventhoughnone
ofitwashisfault.“Talkingtothekid?”
“No.Calmdown.Shewasatatablearoundthecorner,tryingtogetgirlstosignuptobethisyear’sHarvestPrincess,whatever
thatis.Why?”Jessicacontinuedtomassageherknee.“WhatwouldbethebigdealifshesawmetalkingtoEsther?Rosalie’s
amemberoftheWorldCouncilofWitches.Dotheynotknowabouttheriftandprophecy?”
He’dbeensworntosecrecy.Buthowcouldhenottellher?Ithadbeeneasytoshrugandsayhe’dstaysilentwhenhehadn’t
mether.
Butnowthathehad,keepingthetruthtohimselffeltlikeabetrayal.
“Theydo,buttheyhavetheirowntheoriesaboutit,”hesettledforsaying.“WewerehopingtoconfirmouropiniononEstherbeforesharingitwiththerestofthewitchingworld.WouldyoucaretotellmewhyRosalieHopkinswouldwanttounleashahailstormuponyou?”
Jessicashruggedandpulledhercellphonefromherbag,thenbeganswiftlytextingsomeone.“RosalieandIdidn’tgetalong
sowellinhighschool,that’sall.Andsometimeswhensheseesmenow,she’sremindedofitandgets…upset.”
“Thatwasn’tupset,Jessica.Thatwashomicidal.Shewastryingtokillyou.”
Shecontinuedtotext.“Don’tbedramatic.”
“IknowWestHarborissittingonthebrinkofdisaster,buthasyourentiretownlostitscollectivemind,aswell?”The
assaultfromtheskyhadgonefrommassivehailstonestorain.Itwaspouring.Butatleastthecloudshadlightened,and
nowhecouldseethatthereasonthecarinfrontofthemhadstoppedwasbecausethetrafficlightsattheintersectionwere
out,makingitintoafour-waystop.Everycarwaspatientlywaitingtheirturn.Rosalie’sassaulthadcausedacitywidepower
outage.“Thatwomanjusttriedtomurderyouinfrontofmyeyesandyou’resayingI’mbeingdramatic?”
Sheturnedherbrowneyestowardhim.Theyweresobigandsomanyfathomsdeep,hefeltasifhecoulddiveintothem.“What
doyouwantmetosay?ThatRosalieHopkinsisastormwitchwhocancontroltheweather,andthatsheoccasionallyusesthat
powertointentionallyhurtpeople?Yes.Butbecauseshe’saboardmemberoftheWorldCouncilofWitches,she’snevergotten
caught,orevenremotelyreprimandedfordoingso?Also,bytheway,yes.”
“Wait.”Hecouldn’tbelievewhathewashearing.“AreyoutellingmethatRosaliehasdonethisbefore?”
Shesnorted.“Oh,thisisnothing.DoyouremembertheValentine’sDayBlizzardof2006?”
“WhywouldIremembertheValentine’sDayBlizzardof2006?”
“Becausethat’stheyearwegotthirtyinchesofsnowinoneweekend.”
“Jessica,I’mfromMontana.Wegetthirtyinchesofsnoweveryweekend.”
“Oh.Well,thatmuchsnowisprettyrarehereinConnecticut.It’sonlyhappenedhereonetimeinmymemory,andthat’sbecause
Rosaliewasmadatmeoveralovespell.”
“Alovespell?”Henarrowedhiseyesather.Shehadn’tstruckhimasthetypetodabbleinlovespells.“Whywasshemad
atyouoveralovespell?”
“BecauseIgaveittoher,anditdidn’twork.”
“Howisthatyourfault?”
Acarhornsounded,longandloud,frombehindthem.Theelectricitytothetrafficlighthadcomeonagain,andhe’dfailed
tonoticebecausehe’dbeenlookingintoJess’seyes.
“It’salongstory,”shesaid.“You’vegotthegreenlight.Ifyoumakealefthere,we’llbeatmyhouse.I’msorry,but
Ineedtocheckifmycatisokay.”Shewavedthecellphoneshewasholding.“IalreadyheardfrommyassistantmanagerBecca
thatEnchantmentsisfine.Itdidn’tevenraindowntown.TheentirestormwasfocusedonthissideofWestHarbor.ButPye
isn’tattheshop,soI’malittleworried—”
Heturnedleft.
“Isn’tRosaliealittleoldtostillbeupsetaboutacrushshehadinhighschool?”heasked,astheypulledontoherstreet.
“Iknow,right?”Jessicarolledhereyes.“Butit’sslightlymorecomplicatedthanthat.Areyoulivinginthiscar?”
Startled,helookedawayfromthehail-cappedpilesofleavesaroundherstreetandglancedinsteadather.“What?Whywould
youaskthat?”
“Because.”ShepulledapileofcompostablecoffeecupsfromWakeUpWestHarborfromthecompartmentontheinsidepanelofthepassengerdoor.“Therearesomanyoftheseinhere.Andyourbagisinthebackseat.Andthisbook.”HiscopyofPlutarch’sLives.“Andthatsmell—”
Alarmed,heasked,“Whatsmell?”
“Idon’tknow,”shesaid,sniffingdelicately.“It’ssofamiliar.Ithinkit’s…cannoli?Haveyoubeeneatingcannoli
inhere?”
“No.”Itwasn’thisfaultWakeUpWestHarboralsohadsuchafineselectionofpastriesinadditiontosuchgoodcoffee.
“CheeseDanish.”
“Oh,yes.ThoseDanishatWakeUpWestHarborarehardtoresist.Wait,stop.Thisismyhouse.”
Shepointedathercottage,sohedidn’thavetopretendhedidn’tknowwhichoneitwas.Thestormdidnotappeartohave
doneanyharmtothecheerfulyellowexteriororthealreadyweatheredshingledroof.Eventhebrightmarigoldsoneither
sideofthestepsleadingtoherfrontporchlookedunbatteredbyeitherwindorhail.
“Itlooksokay.”Jessicaheavedasighofrelief.“ThankGod,becauseI’mpositivemycarisdestroyed.Doyouwanttocome
insideforaminute?IjustneedtochecktoseeifPyeisallright.Hehasacatdoorintheback.Ihopehehadthesense
touseit.”
Didhewanttocomeinside?Hehadn’tbeeninsideahome—arealhome,notahotelroomorsomeEuropeanvillaorthebunkhouse
athisfather’sranch,whichhardlyqualifiedasahome—foraslongashecouldremember.Hecouldn’tagreefastenough,though
hetriedtoseemcasualaboutit.
“IguessIcouldcomein,”hesaid.“Doyouhaveanycoffee?”
“Ofcourse.Isupposecoffee’stheleastthatIoweyouforgettingmeoutofthere,”shesaid,assheunbuckledherseat
beltandopenedthedoortoexitthetinycar.“ThoughIwouldn’thavebeenthereinthefirstplaceifitweren’tforyou.”
“Sorry.Butit’syourtownI’mtryingto—”Hebitofftherestofwhathewasgoingtosaywhenhesawherstepoutofthe
car,thenwinceinpainandclutchatthekneeshe’dbeenrubbing.Inasplitsecond,hewasatherside,offeringasupportive
arm.“Whatisit?”heasked.“Areyouhurt?”
“It’snothing.”Itwasn’tnothing.Shewasgrimacing.“IthinkItwistedmykneealittlewhenIdoveintothecar,isall.”
“Letmelookatit,”hesaid.
Shelaughedandrolledhereyes,thoughitwasclearfromthewayshewaslimpingastheymadetheirwayupthemarigold-lined
pathtoherfrontporchthatshewasinpain.“Itoldyou,it’sfine.You’renotgoingtolookatmytwingedknee.”
Asecondlater,however,shestumbled,andletoutalittlecryofpain.
“That’sit.”Derrickleanedoverandscoopedherup,sweepingherintohisarmsandcarryingherupthestepstoherfront
door.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Hervoicerose.Fortunatelynoneofherneighborsappearedtobehome,oriftheywere,theywereused
tohearingheryell,sincenoneofthemseemeddisturbedbyit.“Putmedown!”
“Iunderstandyourembarrassment,”hesaidinthesamecalmvoiceheusedtospeaktoagitatedanimalsontheranch,“but
youshouldn’tbewalkingonit.Thisisamedicalemergency,andyou’reonlymakingitworse.Couldyouunlockyourdoor?
Ihavemyhandsfullatthemoment.”
“It’snotamedicalemergency,”shesaid,butshedidinfactreachintoherbagtopulloutherkeys,theninserttheminto
thefrontdoor’slock.“I’mperfectlycapableofwalking.”
“It’sbettertostayoffituntilit’sbeenmedicallyassessed.”
“You’regoingtothrowyourbackout.”
Hegrunted.“Notlikely.”Ifshe’donlyseenwhathisfatherhadforcedhimtoliftregularlybackattheranch.
Theinsideofherhouselookedexactlythewayhe’dexpecteditto.Smallandcheerfullydecorated,withalltheoriginalwhitewainscotingandmoldings,itwasaclassic1920sseasidecottage—thoughthe“sea”wasonlyatidalestuaryablockaway,andachimneyhadbeenaddedduringsomelong-agoefforttowinterizetheplace.Floor-to-ceilingbookcasesbuiltoneithersideofthefireplacewerecrammedwithbooksofeverysizeandlength,fromtomesonwitchcraft,alchemy,herbology,Italiancooking,sewing,fashionhistory,andtheoccult,tocelebritymemoirsandevenmurderintheBritishcountryside.
She’dfurnishedthelivingroominbeachypalebluesandwhite,sothattheblackcatcurledinacomfortableballonher
sofastoodoutinsharpcontrasttoallthepastelsintheroom.ItraiseditsheadwhenDerrickdepositeditsowneronthe
sofacushionbesideit,andletoutasleepyMeow?
“There,”Derricksaid.“Thecatisfine.”Andsowasitsowner.
Jessicapushedbacksomeofthedarkcurlsthathadfallenintoherfaceandsmileddownatthecatbesideher,whichwas
stretchingluxuriouslyinplaceandlettingoutanenormousyawn.“Yes.Iguessheis.Thankyou.”Tothecat,shesaid,scratching
itbeneaththechin,“Hello,Pye.You’reaverygoodboy.Thankyouforstayinghomelikeagentlemanandnotgettingkilled
byhail.”Thecatlookedpleasedbythispraise,andstretchedsomemore.ToDerrick,Jessicasaid,“Butlisten,youcan’t
goaroundgrabbingwomenlikethatwithouttheirpermission.”
“Ididn’tgrabyou.”Hefeltalittlewoundedthatshewasn’tmoreimpressedwithhischivalry.“Icarriedyoubecauseyou
werehurt.Ialreadyexplained,itwasamedicalemergency—”
“Wasit,though?Orareyousoenamoredofmybodythatyoucouldn’twaittogetyourhandsonit?”
Shewasjoking.Butheunderstoodnowthatsheusedhumorasadefensemechanismwhenshewasuncomfortable,soherespondedinkind,hopingitwouldsetheratease.
“Yes.”Hesatdownonthecouchbesideher—onlyslightlydisturbingthecat,whogavehimasuspiciousglance,thenresettled
afewinchesaway—andgentlyliftedthelegshe’dinjured,placingherfootonthedriftwoodcoffeetableinfrontofthem.
“Thiswholething,includingthestorm,wasallpartofanelaborateplanIconcoctedsothatIcouldravageyou.”
“Ha!”Herdarkeyesdanced.Shewassuppressingasmile,too,soheknewhisattemptathumorhadworked.“Iknewyouwere
lyingwhenyousaidyouweren’theretoimplantthelightinme.”
Henoddedandreachedforthewidehemofhertrouserleg.“Nowthatyougotthatoutofyoursystem,letmelookatthat
knee.”
“No!”Thesmilevanished,andsheleanedforwardtoswatathishand.“Mykneeisfine.There’snoneedforyouto—”
Butitwastoolate.He’dpeeledbacktheflowymaterialofherpantlegandseenwhathadbeencausingherpain:aredwelt,
alreadypurplingaroundthesides.
“Jessica,”hesaid,hiseyessnappingwidewithconcern.“Didoneofthosehailstones—?”
“It’sfine.”Shetriedtocovertheweltbytuggingdownthehemofherpants.“I’lljustputsomeiceonitlater.”
“It’snotfine.Jessica,letmehelpyou.”
Beforeshecouldstophim,helaidhisfingertipsgentlyacrossthewarm,tenderskinofherknee.Jessica
Plantmarigoldseedsinasunnyspotinthespring,andbyfallthouwilsthavegoldenbloomsthatwillwardoffpestsand
promoteriches.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
Ican’tsayexactlywhathappenedwhenDerricklaidhishandsovermyknee,butIcandescribehowitfelt:likethesuncoming
outonabitterlycoldwinter’sday,warmingmyskinandmakingmefeelasifI’dsuddenlysteppedontoawhitesandbeach.
AndjustasifI’dsuddenlysteppedontoawhitesandbeach,thepaindisappeared,leavinginitsplaceonlyasweet,summery
sensation.
Itwasincredible…especiallysinceIhadnoideahowhewasdoingit.AndI’vebeenaround.IwenttocollegeinNew
YorkCity.I’vebeenonbuyingtripstoLosAngeles.IevenwentbacktoFranceacoupleoftimesaftermysemesterabroad.
TheFrenchmightbeknownfortheircooking,butdoyouknowwhatelsethey’rereallygoodat?That’sright:sex.
Butwithallmyexperience,I’dnevermetaguywhowasasgoodwithhishandsasDerrick.
“Howareyoudoingthat?”Ifinallyaskedashebentovermyknee,onelongstrandofhissandyblondhairfallingovertoticklemyskin.
Hewasn’tawareofit,however,becausehiseyeswereclosed.
“Couldyoubequiet,please?”heasked.“I’mconcentrating.”
“Sorry,”Isaid.“ButI’mreallycurious.Yousaiditwasn’taspell.IsitReiki?BecauseIunderstandthattheWorldCouncil
ofWitchesforbidstheirmembersfrompracticinghands-onalternativemedicine,duetotheliabilityissues.”
“Yes,well,I’mnotamemberoftheWCW,remember?”Inoticedthathehadn’tshavedrecently.He’dalreadyhadafewdays’
growthofwhiskerswhenIfirstmethim.Nowhehadwhatbasicallyamountedtoashortbeard.Coupledwiththelonghair,
hehadalittleRobinHoodthinggoingon.Thiswasaproblemforme,sinceIkindofhadathingforRobinHood,especially
thefoxintheDisneyversion.“That’saridiculousrule.”
“Iagree,”Isaid,avertingmygazefromhisfoxiness.“Butwhydoyouthinkso?”
“Becauseallwitchesarehealers.”
“Uh,allwitchesarenothealers.MayIremindyouofwhatRosaliejusttriedtodotousbackthere?”
“Allwitcheshavethecapacitytobehealers,”hesaid,openinghiseyes.Thisclose,Iwasabletoseethattheyweren’tactuallysilver,butpaleblue
withamberflecksinthem.Oh,God.“Isawyoumakethemayor’swifefeelbetteraboutherselfwhenyoudressedherinthe
clothesyouchoseforher.Theabilitytomanipulatetheenergyaroundusintoaforcethatheals,spirituallyorphysically,
isonethateverywitchpossesses.Youhaveit.Ihaveit.ProbablyRosalieHopkinshasit.Buthowshechoosestouseit,
accordingtoyou,istoharminsteadofheal.Perhapsthat’swhythatlovespellyougaveherdidn’twork.”
Ibitmylowerlip—notbecauseIdisagreedwithanythinghewassaying,butbecausehewassittingsoclose,andhewasso…well,hot.Imeanliterallyhot.He’dliftedhishandsfrommyknee,butIstillfelttheheatfromhisfingersthere.TherednessfromthewoundRosalie’s
hailstonehadinflictedstilllingered,butsodidthegloriousfeelingofhistouch.I’dgivenawaymyprotectiveamethyst,
andnotfiveminuteslater,I’dbeenhurtinahailstormcausedbymymortalenemy….
Butnowmywoundswerebeinghealedbyagentle-fingeredwitchwithsilvereyesandafoxybeard.Maybemyamethyst’sprotective
propertieshadn’tleftmeentirelyyet.
“Alovespelldrawsonpositiveenergy,”Derrickwassaying,“becauseitrepresentssomethingnewandhopeful.Butifthe
witchcastingitismoreusedtodrawingfromnegativity—well,youcanseehowaspelllikethatmightgoastray.”
“Yeah.”Ireleasedmylipandthenleanedforwardtolowermypantleg.Iwasn’texactlynakedinfrontofhim,butitwas
startingtofeelthatway.Anysecondnowhewasgoingtonoticemynakedthirstforhim.“Igetwhatyou’resaying.AndI
completelyagreewithyou…intheory.ButlikeIsaid,thethingbetweenmeandRosalieisalittlemorecomplicated
thanthat.”
Ididn’twanttorememberthepanicI’dseenonBilly’sfaceinthecafeteriaalittlewhileagoashe’dtriedtolookeverywhere
butatme.Ihadn’texactlybeenhappyaboutrunningintohim,either—nottomentionRosalie,ortheircreepysolicitation
for“HarvestPrincess”volunteers—butatleastI’dsummonedupasmileandabright“Hello”forthembothasI’dtriedto
hurrypast.
Unfortunatelyawaspish“Whatareyoudoinghere?”fromRosaliestoppedmebeforeIgottothedoor.
“Meetingwithmynewmentee.”I’dknownbetterthantomentiontherealreasonIwasthere,especiallyinfrontofBilly,who—asfarasIcouldtell—stillwasn’tawareoftheexistenceofwitchesinWestHarbor.“Youknow,theprogramtheschoolhasthatmatchesupkidswithlocalbusinessowners?”
Myrusedidn’twork,however.Rosalie’seyesnarrowedsuspiciously.“Ididn’tknowtheyweretakingmentorsforthatalready.”
“Oh,yes,”I’dsaid,andreachedintotheplasticjack-o’-lanterntheyhadsittingonthetable,withfreefun-sizedcandy
barsforthekids.Iwasn’takid,butIwasachocoholic,andevenafterallthebrowniesI’dconsumed,Ialwayshadroom
formore.Plustheskyoutsidewasgettingdarker.Surelythiswassimplyafluke,andnotanyofRosalie’sdoing.ButIgrabbed
nervouslyforthechocolateanyway.“It’sagreatprogram.Salrecommendedit.YourememberSal,don’tyou,Dina’sbrother?”
“ObviouslyIrememberSal.”Rosaliestaredatmeexpressionlessly.“Wehadtogothroughhimtosetupthistable.”
“Ha,ha,right.”IlookeddownatthecandybarI’dpulledfromthejack-o’-lanternandrealized,sadly,thatitwasaMilky
Way.“Okay,well,greatseeingyouboth.Ibettergobefore—”
That’swhenithappened.Billy’sfingershadclosedovermyhand—theoneholdingtheMilkyWay—preventingmefromleaving,
andcausingRosalie’scheekstoflushangrily.
“Hereyougo,”he’dsaid.
And,likeamagictrick—thoughtherewasnothingpreternaturalaboutit—BillyslidtheminiatureMilkyWayoutofmyhand,
anddroppedaminiatureSnickersbarintoit.Insteadoflookingeverywhereexceptatme,hiseyesweresuddenlygazinghard
intomine,seemingtopleadRemember?
Thoughhehadtohaveknownperfectlywellthat,afteralltheseyears,hewasnevergoingtogetwhathethoughthewanted
fromme,despiterememberingmyfavoritechocolatebar.
That’swhenthefirstcrashofthunderrattledtheschool.Billyinstantlyreleasedme…andI’dcareenedfortheexit,knowingIwasdoomed.
AndRosaliehadletmehaveit,allright.
Now,safeinmyownlivingroom,IwonderedifIshouldmentionanyofwhathadhappenedbackinthecafeteriatoDerrick.
Buthe’donlyaskedwhetherRosalieknewaboutEsther.SurelytherewasnoreasonIneededtoembarrassmyselfanyfurther
bytellinghimthemortifyingtruthaboutBilly.
Except…
Exceptwhatifwhathadhappenedafter—theblizzard,andallthosepoorpeoplewhonearlyfrozetodeathontheinterstate—was
whatwascausingtherift?
Ididn’twanttothinkaboutthat.
“Anyway,”Isaid,swingingmyfootoffthecoffeetable.Iwasfeelingbetter—butalsolikeitmightbeagoodideatoput
somedistancebetweenmyselfandDerrickWinters.“CanIgetyouthatcoffee?Orlunch?Idon’tknowaboutyou,buteversince
Ifoundoutabouttherift,I’vebeenstarvingallthetime.IhavesomeleftoversfromMamaGiovanni’s—myfriend’sfamily
ownsit.HismothermakesagreatSundaynightgravy.”Whenheonlylookedconfused,Iprodded,“Youknow,gravy—spaghetti
saucewithmeatballsandsausage?It’lljusttakemeafewminutestowarmitup.It’salwaysbetterthenextdayforsome
reason.Iguesstheflavorshavemoreofachancetomeld.”
Whenhecontinuedtohesitate,Isaid,alittleimpatiently,“OfcourseIcouldjustgiveyoumyreportontheBringerof
LightovercoffeeandcoldcheeseDanishfromWakeUpWestHarbor.Doyouhavemoreinyourcar?”
Heshookhishead,smilingabit.“No.Sorry,yourofferisverygenerous.Iwasjustthrownbythegravyreference.Where
Icomefrom,gravyonlycomesonmashedpotatoes.”
“Oh.”IeyedhimashereachedouttoticklePyeunderthechin—andthecatlethim.Notonlylethim,butrolledontohisbackandshowedhimhisbelly,purring.“Yeah,Icouldseethat.”
Thiswasnuts.Asashopcat,Pyetendedtobefriendlywithstrangers,butnotthatfriendly.IthadtakenmonthsafterI’dadoptedPyefromtheshelterforhimtotrustmeenoughtoshowmehisbelly.Did
Derrick’sfingershavethesamemagicaleffectoncatsthattheydidonwomen?
ButDerrickdidn’tevenseemtonoticemycat’sreactiontohistouch.Instead,heclimbedtohisfeet,pulledoffhisleather
jacket,andwalkedacrosstheroomtohangitonthefish-tailcoathooksbymyfrontdoor,straighteningthesleevessoit
hungevenlywiththeumbrellasandrainjacketsalsohangingthere.
Sohelikedcats,andwasalittleperfectionistic.
Thiswasbad.Ilikedmenwhowerekindtocatsandalsokeptthingstidy.
Itdidn’thurtthathisbuttlookedsoniceinhisblackjeans,too.
“…butyoureallydon’thavetocookforme,”IrealizedhewassayingwhenIwasabletodragmyattentionawayfrom
hisjeans.
“I’veneverbeentoMontana,”Isaid,walkingbrisklyintomykitchen.Eyesforward.“Butaroundhere,gravyisconsidered
spaghettisauce,andheatingupleftoversisn’tconsideredcooking.”
Ipulledopenthedoortotherefrigeratorasbothmanandcatsatandwatchedme,themanonastoolatthepass-through
betweenmydiningroomandkitchen,andthecatonthefloorbesidehim,sincePyewasapparentlynowDerrick’sfriendfor
life.“Doyoureallywantcoffee,orhaveyouhadenough?”
“Istheresuchathingasenough?”
“Pointtaken.”Iswitchedonthemachineandslippedapalebluemugbeneaththespigot.Itwasamazinghoweasyitwasformetomovenowthathe’ddonethatthing,whateveritwas,tomyknee.Washesingle?Andinterestedinfemalebusinesswitches?Becauseifwesurvivedthecomingapocalypse,hewasdefinitelysomeonewho’dbeusefultohavearound,consideringhowoftenIworeoutmyjointsontailoringprojects(andfoundmyselfthetargetofsupernaturalattacksbymyformerhighschoolnemesis).“So,myverdictastheChosenOneis,EstheristheBringerofLight.”
Heraisedhiseyebrows.“Whatmakesyouthinkthat?”
“Hmmm,letmesee.”IbeganspooningfoodI’dpulledfromthefridgeintomicrowaveablebowls.“Shemovedanentirecafeteria
tableinfrontofmeusingonlyhermind.”
Helookedstartled.“She’stelekinetic?”
“That’swhatI’massuming.Orsheknowsaspellthatallowshertomoveobjectswithhermindwheneversheneedsto.ButI’ve
neverseenaspelllikethat.”
“It’shighmagic,”hemurmured.“Suchspellsexistinscrollsandmanuscriptsfromancienttimes,butI’mnotsurehowshe’d
havebeenabletogetherhandsonone.”
“Right.Butshe’sdefinitelyinterestedintheCraft.Shewasreadingabookonthehistoryofthepersecutionofwitches.”
Islidhiscupofcoffeeinfrontofhim.“Letmeguess.Youtakeitblack.”
“Ido.”Hesipped,andlookedmoderatelyimpressed.“Thisisgood,thanks.Didshesaywhyshewasreadingthat?”
“BecauseRosaliegotherinterestedinthesubject.OneofRosalie’sancestorswasaccusedofbeingawitch.She’susingthat
factinsomeofherTricentennialpublicity—enoughsothatshe’sgotEstheroutragedthatsolittleofwhathappenedhere
backthenistaughtinschooltoday,especiallywhenitwascausedbysomanyissuesthatstillexist:ignorance,greed,poverty,
misogyny—”
“‘Theimbalancebetweenrichandpooristheoldestandmostfatalailmentofallrepublics.’”
WhenIonlylookedathimblankly,hesaid,“Plutarch.”
“Oh,right.Yourbookfromthecar.”
Derricknodded.“Anddon’tforgetthatthePuritansalsolovedagoodconspiracytheory.Anychancetheygottoblameabad
harvestorababydyingontheirneighborhavingmadeapactwiththedevil,theywentforit.”
“Oh,yes,ofcourse.That’sprobablywhyEsthercan’tunderstandSalemgettingalltheattentionfortheirwitcheswhenwe
hadourownwitchhysteriaherefortyyearsearlier.”
“MorepeoplewereexecutedforwitchcrafttherethaninConnecticut,though,”hesaid.
“Well,MassachusettsisthePuritanstate.”Themicrowavepinged.Itransferredthecontentsofthebowlsontotwowhiteplates,grabbedsomesilverware
fromadrawerandacontaineroffreshlygratedParmesanfromthefridge,thenbroughtitallovertothecounteratthepass-through,
pullingupastoolsoIcouldsitacrossfromhim.“Andonthathappynote—buonappetito.”
Helookeddownatthemessofspaghettiandgarlicbreadonhisplatealittleapprehensively,asifhewasn’tsurewhatto
dowithit.Butwhenhesawmejabaforkintomylongpastanoodles,twirlthemintoabite-sizedportion,thenpopthem
intomymouth,hedidthesame—thengotapleasedlookonhisface.
“Hey,”hesaid.“Thisisreallygood.”
“Um,yeah.”ItookaswigfromtheicewaterI’dpouredmyself.“WhatdidyouthinkIwasgoingtodo,poisonyou?”
Hefrownedashebitintohisgarlicbread.Iftherewassuchathingasaself-defensivebite,that’swhathetook.“No.
Well,maybe.It’sjustthatI’vebeenhereinWestHarborafewdaysnow,andthefoodI’vehadsofarhasbeen…disappointing.”
Ilaiddownmyforkandstaredathim.“Derrick,Icouldhavetoldyougoodplacestoeataroundhereifyou’dstuckaround
andasked,insteadofpeacingoutwiththat‘blessedbe’crap.Therearedozensofgoodplaces.MamaGiovanni’sisonlyone
ofthem.There’salsotheCountryGourmet—”
“I’mnotinWestHarbortoeat,”heinterrupted,althoughtherapidnesswithwhichthefoodonhisplatewasdisappearing
disprovedhisclaim.“I’mheretosaveit.Andyou.TellmemoreaboutEsther.”
“Okay,fine.She’ssmart.Shewantstobeapsychologist.”
“Good.”Henoddedashesoppedupwhatwasleftofhissaucewithhisremaininggarlicbread.Itwashardformenottostare
athisforearmsnowthathe’dtakenhisjacketoff.Theywereimpressivelyshapely.“That’sapositivesign.Itshowsshe
hasempathy.”
“That’swhatIthought.Shewassittingalone,butonlysoshecouldread.Shehasfriends,aswellaswhatI’dcallalot
ofBigSisterEnergy.Shewasabletogetaclassmatewhowasclimbingonatabletodoexactlyasshesaidandgetdown—though
partlyonlybecausesheshookhimdown.”
Derrickstaredatme.“That’swhysheshookthecafeteriatable?Togettheboydownfromit?”
“Yes.Why?”
“TheBringerofLightshouldn’tbeusingherpowersforviolence—unlessofcourseshe’sbattlingtheforcesofevil.”
“Trustme,”Isaid.“Thiskidmightnothavebeenevil,buthewassuperannoying.”
Hegrinnedalittle.“Anythingelse?”
“Well,therewasoneotherthing….”
Heglancedupfromthemeatballhewasabouttobiteinto,suddenlyapprehensive.“What?”
“Sheread—withcompleteaccuracy—myastrologicalchart,withoutmyhavingtoldhermybirthday.”
Slowly,Derricklaiddownhisfork.
“Iknow,”Isaidquickly.“TheWCWdoesn’tholdastrologyinthehighestregard.”TheCouncildidn’tjustdisregardit.I
knewfromonlinepostsbydisgruntledformermembersthattheycalledit—alongwithtarotcardreading,numerology,andpalm
reading—“theleastdisciplinedofthedivinations.”Butthiswasmainlybecauseofsocialmediainfluencersusingitonline
forclout.Thatwasn’tnearlyasoffensive—tome,anyway—aspoliticiansmisappropriatingthetermwitchhunt.“Butyousaidyourselfthateachwitchchannelstheenergyoftheuniversearoundherdifferently—orsomethinglikethat.
JustbecauseEstherdoesitthroughastrologydoesn’tmeansheisn’ttheonewe’relookingfor.SheevenknewIwasawitch.
Ofcourse,thatwasbecauseyou’remakingmewearthisdumbGaiaamulet—”
Hisgazeonmesharpened.“That‘dumbGaiaamulet’isforyourprotection.”
“Yeah,well,fatlotofgoodit’sdoneformesofar.”
Hefoldedhisarmsacrosshischest,causinghisbicepstoswell.“You’renotdead,areyou?”
“Wow.Impressedwithyourselfmuch?”Ipushedawayfromthecounterandbusiedmyselfwithclearingourlunchplates,mainly
soI’dbedistractedfromhisarms.“Foryourinformation,IcouldhavehandledthatthingwithRosaliebacktherewithout
yourhelp.I’vebeenhandlingherforyearswithoutyouandyourmagicfingers.”
“Haveyou,though?”Hewasunimpressed.“Awitchwithpowerslikethatcouldbeusingthemtodosomuchgoodintheworld—making
itrainindrought-strickenareas,orthesuncomeoutinareasafflictedbystorms.Butinsteadshechoosestousethemfor
pettygrievances.”
“Howisthatmyproblem?”Idemanded.“Ithoughtthat’swhat‘entities’likeyours—whateveritis—andtheCouncilarefor:keepingwitches
likeRosalie,whoabusetheirmagic,inline.”
Hefrowned.“Haveyoureportedher?”
“No.WhyshouldIbother?IftheCouncildoesn’twantmeorwitcheslikeme,whyshouldIhelpthem?”
“You’dbehelpingtheworld,actually,nottheCouncil,”hesaid.“ButIunderstand.”
“Doyou?”Iglaredathim.“Forsomeonewhoisn’taCouncilmember,youcertainlyseemtobeontheirside.”
Hisfrownturnedintoashadowofasmile,andforonce,thatsilver-eyedgazeseemedtosoften.“I’monlyononeperson’s
side,Jessica—yours.”
Thisreply—andthesmile—wassodisarmingthatforasecond,Icouldonlyblinkathiminsurprise…untilhebrokethe
unexpectedlyintimatemomentbyadding,quickly,“AndWestHarbor’s.AndEsther’s.I’monherside,aswell.Sowhenareyou
meetingheragain?”
“Idon’tknow.”IhadtoturnawayfromhimbecauseI’dfoundthesuddensoftnessofhisgazeunsettling.Imadeabigdeal
outofputtingthedishesinthedishwasher.Pye,who’dapparentlybeenwaitingforDerricktopethimagain,finallyrealized
thatwasn’tgoingtohappenanytimesoon,andtooktheopportunitytoexitthroughthecatflapinthebackdoor.“Itwas
awkward.Thebellwasringing.Weexchangednumbers,though.”
Heshovedhimselfawayfromthecounter,thefeetofhisstoolsqueakingnoisilyagainstmywoodfloor.“IfEstheristhe
One,weneedtogetstartedonhertrainingrightawayinorderforhertobereadybytheHunter’sMoon.”
“Thewhat?”Iturnedfromthesinktofacehimashecameintothekitchen.Hisgazeremainedunnervinglybright.
“TheHunter’sMoon.It’sthefullmoonthatappearsaftertheharvest,whenthefieldshavebeenreapedandhunterscanseetheirpreyatnight.Thisyear’sHunter’sMoonhappenstofallonthesamenightastheTricentennialBall,whichhappenstobethenightbeforeHalloween,whichiswhentheveil—”
“Betweenthisworldandthespiritworldisatitsthinnest,Iknow,Iremember.”God,thisguyandhisprophecies.“Butif
theHunter’sMooniswhenthere’sgoingtobesomeapocalypticbattlewiththeforcesofevilinWestHarbor,Idon’tsee
howEsther’stelekinesisandabilitytoreadtheirexactastrologicalchartisgoingtohelp.”
“That…is…why…we…have…to…train…her.”AmusclewasleapingaroundinDerrick’sjaw,
likehewastryinghardnottosaysomethinghe’dregret.“Doyouhaveanymorecoffee?”
“Uh,Ithinkyou’vehadmorethanenoughcoffee.”Themuscleinhisjawwasn’ttheonlythingjumping.Someveinsinhisneck
werealsothrobbing.“Infact,ifyouaskme,whatyouneedinsteadofmorecaffeineisanap.Whydon’tyougobacktoyour
hotelandtakealittlesiesta?ThenIcangotomyshopandcheckonhowBeccaisdoing.Wecanmeetupagainlaterandsee
ifthere’sanythingleftofmycartosalvage,anddecidewhattodonextaboutEsther’straining.”
Butinsteadofagreeingwithmyverysensibleplan,helookedevenmorestressed,hisbrowsloweringashelookedaway.“I
don’tnap.”
“Whatdoyoumean,youdon’tnap?Everybodynaps.Nappingissogoodforyou.Itincreasesalertnessandimprovesmemory—”
“Ican’tgobacktomyhotelroom,allright?”Hefinallyraisedhisgaze,andwhenhedid,Isawthathiseyeslookedblueandamberagain.“Icouldn’tgetahotelroom.EverythingisbookedsolidbecauseofalltheleafpeepersandthisstupidTricentennial.”
“Wait,soIwasright?”Iwasn’tsureIbelievedwhatIwashearing.“Youreallyhavebeenlivinginyourcar?”
“No,notlivinginit.”Hewasdefensive,butadorablyso,likePyewhenhetriedtoleapontothekitchencounter,butmissed.
“Ifoundatwenty-four-hourfitnesscenter.I’vebeenshoweringandkeepingsomeofmythingsinalockerthere.”
“OhmyGod,Derrick,whydidn’tyousayanything?Ihaveasparebedroom.Youcanstayhere.”
Now,insteadofdefensive,helookeduncomfortable.“Thatwouldn’tberight.”
“Why?DoesitviolatesomeHRcodeattheWCW?Whocares?Yousaidyoudidn’tevenworkthere.”
“Idon’t,”hesaid.Hishandshadstrayedtowardthepocketsonhisjeans.He’dshovedhisfingersintothemlikesomeschoolboy
who’dbeencaughtdoingsomethingnaughty,whenliterallyallweweredoingwasdiscussingwhatIassumedweregoingtobe
somecompletelyplatonicsleepingarrangements—muchasImightwishthesituationtobeotherwise.Seeinghisdiscomfortover
thiswastrulythehighlightofmydaysofar.“I’msupposedtobeprotectingyou.AndEsther,ifshe’stheBringerofLight,”
headdedhastily.
“Well,won’titbemoreconvenientforyoutoprotectmefrominsidemyhousethanoutsideit?”Ibrightened,athoughtoccurring
tome.“YoucouldevencometoTriviawithmetomorrownight!”
Hisbrowsloweredinconfusion.“Towhat?”
“TuesdayNightTrivia,overatWestHarborBrewport.Esther’sparentsownit.I’monateamwithmyfriends,andwemeetthere
everyTuesdaynight—”
Aloudknocksoundedonthedoor.Derrickfroze,hisexpressionwary,asiftheforcesofevilmightactuallyhavealreadyarrivedonmyporch.“Relax,”Isaid.“It’sprobablyUPS.Theyalwayscomethistimeof—”
“Jess?”calledtheunmistakablevoiceofmyex-boyfriendBilly.“Jessica,areyouthere?”Jessica
JournalEntryfrom2006
Toenhanceanycelebration,mixsaltpeterwithice.Dropavialofwateredwineintotheconcoction,andsoonthouwilsthave
themostdelectablesnowthouhastevertasted.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
Itstartedoutasagentleflurry…justenoughsothatMomhadtoputonthewindshieldwipersasweweredrivinghome
fromStewLeonard’s
Thenthesnowgotheavier.Andheavier.Soonitwascomingdownsohardandfastthatmylittlebrother,Ethan,asked,“Is
thisablizzard?”
“No,itcan’tbe,”Dadsaid.“Theydidn’tsayanythingaboutablizzardintheforecast.”
Thenthelocalnewscameon.Itwasofficial:itwasablizzard.Airportswereshutdown.Thehighwaysclosedtoallbutemergency
vehicles.EventhetrainsthatnormallyshuttledmillionsofcommutersinandoutofNewYorkCitycametoahalt.
Here’sthething:itneveroccurredtomethattherewasanythingparanormalaboutit.Iwouldn’tevenhaveknownotherwiseifRosaliehadn’tcalledthatnightonmyparents’landlinetoask,“Howareyoulikingmylittlebirthdaypresent?”
Iwasconfused.“Mybirthday’snottillTuesday.”
“Yeah,”shesaid,“butweren’tyouhavingapartyatMamaGiovanni’stonight?”
“Um,Iwas.Butwemovedittomyhousebecauseofthesnow.”IhadtostickafingerinmyfreeeartohearherbecauseMark
andDinaandsomeofmyotherfriendshadcomeover.Itwassilly,butwewereplayingDanceDanceRevolution:MarioMixinthelivingroomonEthan’sNintendo.Soitwasloudnearthelandline.“Mark’smomisheremakingdinnerforus.Why?
What’syourpresent?”
“God,you’redumb.”Rosalie’svoicerosetoafrenziedpitch.“Doyouhaveanyideahowdumbyouare?I’mtheonemakingthisstormhappen.Itwasme.IdidittoruinyourpartyandgetbackatyouforwhatyoudidtoBilly.”
“WhatdidIdotoBilly?”Iwasgenuinelybewildered—andalittleconcerned.“Igaveyouthelovespell.Ithoughtyouwere
goingtouseitonhimintimetogethimtotakeyououtforValentine’sDay.Didn’titworkforyou?”
“No,itdidn’tworkforme.”Rosaliesoundedasifshewerecrying.“Itdidn’tworkforyou,either.”
“Yes,itdid,Rosalie.Ifitdidn’tworkforyou,youmusthavedonesomethingwrong.Lovespellsworkbestunderafullmoon.
Waituntilthenextfullmoon,thentryitagain.Anddidyouleaveoutthegarlic?Ileftoutthegarlic,andIthinkthat’s
whatmadeallthe—”
“Thespelldidn’tworkbecauseBillywasalreadyinlovewithyou,youidiot!”Rosaliespatintothephone.“Hejusttoldme.Hetoldmethatwecouldneverbetogetherbecausehe’sbeeninlovewithyousincethebeginningoftheschoolyear,whenyouweresonicetohiminChemclass,helpinghimtonotflunkitandgetkickedoffthestupidfootballteam.Andhelikesthatyou’resotall.Hesayshelikesnothavingtoleandownsofartokissyou.”Sheletoutabitterlaugh.“Canyoubelieveit?Heactuallylovesyou.Reallylovesyou.Healwayshas.Theonlyreasonhe’sbeenleavingyoualonelatelyisbecauseyouaskedhimto,andhelovesyou
somuch,hewantstomakeyouhappy.Heevengothisscholarshipback—becauseyoutoldhimto!”
Istoodthereincompleteastonishment,holdingthephonetomyearasMarkyelled,“Switchingtohardmode!”andDinashrieked
withlaughter.BillyWalkerwasinlovewithme?Reallyinlovewithme,andnotmagicallyinlovewithme?
Everythingmadesomuchsensenow:whyhe’drefusedtogoawayafterI’dtoldhimIwasn’tinterested…andwhythebanishing
spellshadn’tworked.
There’snomagicgreaterthanlove—reallove.Nopoweronearthisstronger.
“Youcan’tusealovespellonsomeonewho’salreadyinlovewithsomeoneelse,”Rosaliewenton,angrily.“Nomatterhow
pureyourintentions.Andyouespeciallycan’tusealovespellonsomeonewho’salreadyinlovewithyou.Youatethatdisgusting
stewinfrontofBillyfornothing…andsodidI.”
“Rosalie.”Iwasstunned.“I—Idon’tknowwhattosay.I’msosorry.”
“Youdon’tevenknowthemeaningofthewordsorry.”Rosaliesniffed.“Notyet.ButIplanonmakingyousorry.Firstwiththisstorm,andthenbyreportingyoutotheWorld
CouncilofWitchesforcausingthesufferingofothersthroughtheuseofmagic.Youknowthat’sforbidden,right?Thatshould
earnyoualifetimebanfromtheWCWrightthere.Notthatyou’deverqualifyasamemberanyway.”
“What?”Iwanderedupthestairsasfarasthephonecordwouldstretchinordertogetawayfromthecacophonyofnoisebelowme.Thatdidn’thelpmeescapetherumbleofthundersnowabove,however.“Whatareyoutalkingabout,Rosalie?Noneofthiswasmyfault.Ididn’tknowBillywasinlovewithme.Andyoujustsaidmyspelldidn’twork!IknowBilly’shurtrightnow,butIdidn’tcausethathurtbyusingmagic.You,however,areverydefinitelyhurtingpeoplewiththisstorm.Ijustheardonthenewsthatthousandsofpeoplearestrandedattheairportsandtrainstationsandonthesidesoftheroad—”
“Ifanyone’shurt,it’syourfault,”Rosaliesnapped.“Rememberthisday,JessicaGold.Rememberitwell.Becausewhatever
happens,it’sallyourfault.”
Thenthephonewentdeadinmyear.Asecondlater,thelightswentout,andDanceDanceRevolutiondied,tothegroansofallmyfriends.
Thepowerwasgone.AndwithitanysympathyImightoncehavehadforRosalieHopkins.Derrick
AtrueWitchdoesnotseekpowerthroughthesufferingofothers.
RuleNumberThreeoftheNineRules
*WorldCouncilofWitches*
AllthecolordrainedfromJessica’sface.Itwasasifthevoicefrombehindherfrontdoorwascomingfromtheundead.
“Whoisit?”Derrickreachedouttograspherbythearmanddrawherclosesohecouldwhisperinherear.“Who’sBilly?”
“Anex.”
“Ishepossessed?”
“What?”Jessica,forallhercharms,seemedtohavenoideathatevilexisted,despitethenumberoftimeshe’dassuredheritdid,
andwasspeakingatanormalvolumewhichanyonestandingoutsidethedoorcouldhear.
“Hasheevershownsymptomsofdemonicpossession?”Derrickhissedinherear.“Aversiontosacredthingsandplaces?Sudden
abilitytospeakdeadlanguages?Anyfesteringwounds?”
“No!”Shepulledherarmfromhisgraspandlookedupathimasifheweretheonewhowasdemonic.“Ofcoursenot!Dodemons
actuallyexist?”
“Yes,ofcoursedemonsexist!WhatdoyouthinkI’vebeentryingtotellyou?Angryspirits—alsoknownasdemons,orghosts,orwhateveryouwanttocallthem—arebornwhensomeonehasdiedanunjustorparticularlyviolentdeath.Yourtownisunderattackbythem,andbyThursday’sfullmoon,withHalloweenthenextday,they’llbeatfullstrength.Theycouldmanifestthemselvesinanynumberofways—”
“Well,theyhaven’tmanifestedinmyex-boyfriend.”
“Howdoyouknowthat?”
“BecauseIjustsawhim.”Sheswallowed,thenlookedslightlyguilty.“Hewastheretoday,atthehighschool,withRosalie.”
Derrickwassoalarmed,hereachedouttograbherbythearmsagain,thistimewithbothhands.“Whydidn’tyoutellmebefore?
ThisisexactlywhatIwassayingtoyoutheotherdayaboutunusualactivityintown.Howoftendoeshenormallycomeoverhere?”
“Never,okay?Butheusedtocomeoverhereallthetimebackinhighschool,whenwewentout.”Perhapsnoticinghisconfused
expression,sheexplained,“Thisismyparents’house.IboughtitfromthemwhentheydecidedtomoveouttoSantaFeto
beclosertomygrandparents.Ididn’ttakeadvantageofthem,though.Ipaidfullmarketprice—”
Hecouldn’tbelieveshewastalkingaboutherfinancesatatimelikethis.“DoIlooklikeanaccountanttoyou?”
“OhmyGod!Really?”Shetwisted,tryingtofreeherselffromhisgrasp.“Look,trustme,BillyWalkerisnotinleaguewiththeforcesofevil.”
“MaybenottheBillyyouusedtoknow.Butnow—”
Anotherthumpstruckthedoor.Thistimetheman’svoicebehinditsoundedwhinyandimpatient.“Jessica,Iknowyou’rein
there.There’sacarinyourdriveway,andIcanhearyoutalking.”
“Oh,God.”Jessica’sdarkeyes,asshelookedupatDerrick,werewidewithanxiety.“Ihavetolethimin.”
“Youdon’t,actually,”hesaid,forcinghimselftoremaincalm.“Evilspiritscannotenterahomeunlessinvited.”
“Youdon’tunderstand.”She’dwiggledfree,andwasalreadyonherwaytothedoorbeforehecouldstopher.“It’sBilly.He’snotevil.I’mtheonewhotreatedhimhorribly.”
“What?”DerrickwonderediftheywereinConnecticutorcloud-cuckoo-land.“Ithoughtyousaidthelovespelldidn’twork.”
“Itdidn’t.Butitwasbecausehewasalreadyinlovewithme.”
Beforethishadachancetosinkin,she’dalreadythrownopenthedoor.Hewasn’tsurewhohe’dbeenexpectingtosee,but
itcertainlywasn’tthetallguystandingthereinkhakipants,asweaterDerrickwascertainhismomhadpickedoutforhim,
andtheworstfaketanhe’deverseen.
“Billy,”Jessicacried.“Whatasurprise!Comeonin.”
“Hi,Jess.”BillywipedhisfeetawkwardlyonJessica’sblackcatwelcomemat.Iftheylivedthroughthisencounter,Derrick
wasgoingtohavetohaveawordwithher,andnotjustaboutwhatshe’dconfessedjustbeforeopeningthedoor.Ifyouinvited
ineveryguywhocalledhimselfBilly(eventhoughhewaspastthirtyanddidn’tliveintheSouth),andworenavybluesweaters
withtinyredlobstersembroideredalloverthem,youwereboundtoletinsomethingdiabolical.
“IstoppedbyEnchantmentsfirst,”Billyexplained,“butBeccasaidyouweren’tthere,soItookachancethatyou’dbe—”
ThenBilly’sgazefellonDerrick,who’dtakenupadefensivepositionnearthefireplace,wheretherewasanantiquestand
holdingasetofwrought-ironpokersthatDerrickthoughtmightcomeinhandyshouldthingstakeaturn.
“Oh,”Billysaid,backingupsoquickly,healmosthithisheadonthedoorframe.Hewastall—tallerthanDerrick,andthatwassayingalot.Fromhisheightandthewayhecarriedhimself,Derrickguessedhe’dprobablyplayedfootballonceuponatime.“Ididn’tknowyouhadcompany.Ididn’tmeantointerrupt.MaybeIshould—”
“No,no.”Jessica’ssmilewasasfakeasBilly’sskintone.“Youweren’tinterrupting.Billy,thisis—”
“Winters.”Derrickdecidedtouseadifferentlineofdefensethanthefireplacepokers.HecrossedJessica’slivingroom
withhisrighthandoutstretched.“DerrickWinters.I’mJessica’sboyfriend.”
Billylookedalittlestunnedatthewordboyfriend,butotherwisehandledthenewslikeachamp.
“Eric,isit?”Billysaid,withhisbrightAll-AmericanBoysmile.Literallybright:histeethwerecappedandalmostblindingly
white.HeshookDerrick’shandcalmly,nottryingtocrushhisfingerswithhisowneventhoughhecouldhave,sincehehad
aballplayer’senormouspaw.“Idon’tthinkI’veseenyouaroundtownbefore.”
“It’sDerrick,andno,youwouldn’thave.”Derrickreturnedtohispositionagainstthemantel.“I’mJessica’sdirtylittle
secret.”
JessicaletoutabarkofnervouslaughterandhurriedtoDerrick’sside.Hehadtohandittoher:shewasmanagingthecurveball
he’dthrownwithadmirableaplomb.Therewasonlythefaintestpinkinhercheeks.
“There’snosecret!”shecried.Tohissurprise,shesnakedanarmaroundhiswaist.“Ourrelationshipisjust…new.
Andyouhaven’tseenDerrickaroundbeforebecausehedoesn’tlivehere.”
“Oh,really?”Billy’seyeswereasshinyashisteeth.“Whereareyoufrom?”
“Montana,”DerricksaidatthesametimethatJessicasaid,“Thecity.”
Billylookedfromonetotheotherinconfusion.“Idon’tunderstand.”
“Derrick’sfromMontana,”Jessicasaidquickly,“buthelivesinthecitynow.That’swherewemet,actually,attheMetropolitan
MuseumofArt,wherewe’dbothgoneto—”
“SeethenewColombianartexhibit,”Derricksaid,atthesametimethatJessicasaid,“Checkoutthefashioncollection.”
JessicaelbowedDerrick,butheonlyslippedhisownarmaroundher.Helikedthefeelofherbodyagainsthis.Theyseemed
tofittogetherperfectly,likematchingsaltandpeppershakers.NowthathewascertainfromBilly’sdemeanorthathewasn’t
demonicallypossessed,onlydeeplystupid,hefeltmoreatease.Hesaid,“Tobehonest,Ithinkwewerebothjusttrying
togetoutoftheheat.Butinstead,wefoundadifferentkindofheat.”HelookeddownatJessica,whosecheekswereturning
anevenmoreinterestingshadeofpink,andgrinned.“Didn’twe,honey?”
That’swhenheleanedoverandkissedher.Jessica
Toridahomeofdemons,sweepitcounterclockwisewithanewbroom.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
Iwasn’texpectingthekiss.
ButIfeltit.Oh,howIfeltit.
IfI’dthoughtthetouchofhisfingersonmyshoulderorkneewasamazing,thatwasnothingcomparedtothetouchofhis
lipsonmine.Suddenlyeverycellinmybodysprangawake,likeI’dbeenstruckbylightning—butinagoodway.Wasthere
suchathingasgentlelightning?
Becausethat’swhathiskissfeltlike.Lightningfilledwithgoldenautumnleavesandsoftlyfallingrain.Hesmelledof
it,oftherainandtheleaves—asabsurdasIknewthatsounded.Hesmelledofthemistthathadhungoverthegrasswhen
I’dleftmyhousethatmorning,ascleanandasfreshasnewlypickedapples.
Andhislipsonmine,ratherthandemandinganything,wereapromise:apromiseofmorekissestocome.Thatpromisewasechoedinthehardoutlineofhisbody,pressedagainstmine.Foramoment,Iforgoteverythingelseexceptthoselipsandthatbody—likethattherewasasupernaturalcataclysmthreateningmytown,thatmyex-boyfriendwasstandingafewfeetaway,andthatDerrickhadjustaccusedthatsameex-boyfriendofpossiblybeingademon,thentoldhimweweredating.
Thenheliftedhisfacefrommine,andIsawthathelookedasshockedasIdid—thoughIdidn’tknowwhathehadtobeso
surprisedabout,sincethewholethinghadbeenhisideatobeginwith.Itwasn’tuntilIheardadeepvoicesay,“Well,uh,”
thatIwasabletodragmygazefromhisgleamingeyesandseeBillystillstandingbymyfrontdoor,shufflinghisfeet.
“I’mhappyforyou,Jess,”Billysaid,andheactuallydidlookhappy.“It’sgreat—reallygreat—thatyou’vefoundsomeone.
RosieandIwerejustaskingeachother,whenisJessicaevergonnasettledown?”
Great.Forgetdemons.Thiswasmyapocalypticnightmare.
IdroppedmyarmfromaroundDerrick’swaistandtookastepawayfromhim,sinceIcouldstillfeelenergyradiatingfrom
hisbodytomine.Icouldn’ttellfromhisexpressionlessprofileifhecouldfeelit,too,butIdidn’tneeditscrambling
mysensesanymore.“Oh?”
“Yeah.”BillyshovedhishandsinthepocketsofhisDockersandrockedbackonhisheels,stillsmiling.“It’snicetosee
youtakinglifeseriouslyforachange.YouknowRosaliesaysthatawoman’sfertilitybeginstodeclinedramaticallyafter
age—”
“Okay,then,”Iinterruptedbriskly.“Whatwasit,exactly,thatbroughtyouby,Billy?”
“Oh.”Hequitsmiling,apparentlyrememberingthatthereasonforhisvisitwasn’tonlytoremindmethatIhadn’thadkids
yet.“Right.Yourcar.Isawitintheparkinglotjustnowoutsidetheschool.You’restilldrivingthatblueMiniCooper,
right?”
Bluebell!“Yes.”ItphysicallypainedmetothinkwhatkindofdamageRosaliemighthaveinflictedonmybelovedvintageMini.“Why?Howbadisit?”
Hewinced,pullinghisphonefromoneofhispockets.“Bad,Jess.Reallybad.MuchworsethanthatFiatoutthereinthedriveway.”
Derrickmuttered,seeminglytonooneinparticular,“It’sarental.”
Ifeltapang.PoorBluebell.SheandIhadbeenthroughalottogether,includingalternatesideofthestreetparkingrules
inNewYorkCityduringtheyearsI’dlivedthere.“Won’tinsurancecoverthedamage?”
“Sure,ifyoucarrycomprehensive.”Billyscrolledthroughsomephotosonhisphone,thenturnedthescreentowardme.“But
Ithinkitmightbeatotalloss.”
Istareddowninhorroratthephoto.Bluebellwasbarelyrecognizable.WasthisanotheroneofDerrick’ssignsofimpending
doomforWestHarbor?OronlyanotherexampleofRosalie’songoingvendettaagainstme?Howcouldshehavebeensocruel?
Itwasonethingtohavegoneafterme,butmypoorinnocentcar?
“ButIwantedtoletyouknowthatI’mtakingcareofit,”Billysaidquickly,apparentlyseeingtheheartacheonmyface.
“I’mhavingyourcartowedovertoHopkinsMotors,andI’mputtingourbestguysonit.Iftheycan’tfixit,noonecan.”
Icouldbarelylookatthephotos,theyweresoawful.Ihandedhisphonebacktohim.“Thanks,Billy.”
“Andwhileyourcarisintheshop,”hewenton,shovinghiscellbackintohispocket,“youcanborrowanyothervehicle
onthelot,freeofcharge.Andifitturnsoutwecan’trepairit,I’llgetyouthebestdealpossibleonanewone.Friends
andfamilydiscount.Whateveryouneed.”
“That’ssoniceofyou,Billy.”Ididn’twantanewcar.IwantedBluebell.“Thanks.”
“HopkinsMotors?”Derrick,slouchingbackagainstthefireplacemantel,straightened.
“Yeah.”Billybeamedathim.“Myfather-in-lawownsit.”
“Yourfather-in-law.”Derrick’ssilvergazelaser-focusedontome.“You’remarriedtoRosalieHopkins.”
Billybeamed.“That’sright.Doyouknowher?”
“Onlybyreputation.”Derrick’sgazeonmenarrowed.“Weirdthatnoonementionedtomethatthetwoofyouweremarried.”
By“noone,”IknewthatDerrickmeantme,andthatIwasgoingtohavesomeexplainingtodo.
ButhowcouldIexplainsomethingthat,eventoday,stillcausedmesomuchgrief?Jessica
JournalEntryfrom2008
Toattractgoodhealthandsweetenthydreams,placeasprigofthymebeneaththypillow.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
ItturnedoutMark’suncleRichiehadbeenright:thereweren’tanyloftsleftinManhattanforcollegegirlstorentcheap
andfixup.
Buttherewereplentyofunair-conditionedwalk-upsinWashingtonHeights.
That’showIfoundmyselfdraggingmyheavyartportfolioupanddownthefiveflightsofstairstotheone-bedroomapartment
DinaandIweresharing.
NotthatIwascomplaining.MylifeinNewYorkCitywaseverythingI’ddreameditwouldbe,andmore.Ididn’tevenmind
crammingmyselfandmygiantportfolioontothesubwayeverymorningformyhour-longcommutedowntowntoschool.Iwasliving
inthemostexcitingplaceintheworld.Whatcouldbebetter?
AsIundidthemanylockstoourplaceandopenedthedoorthatday,Isawthatthemailhadalreadyarrived.DinausuallygothomebeforeIdid,grabbedthemailandbroughtitupstairs,thenchangedandleftforhervolunteerjobattheneighborhoodanimalshelter.Nodogswereallowedinourbuilding,andDina,adoglover,couldn’tstandbeingwithoutone.Icouldheartheshowerinoursinglebathroomrunning,soIknewshewasalreadyhomefromherpuppy-loving.
Themailthatdayconsistedoftheusualpileofbills,junk,andmultiplemagazinestowhichIsubscribedforinspiration
(Vogue,Allure,Harper’sBazaar,allofwhichalwaysseemedtoarriveonthesameday),alongwithonemysteriouslylargecream-coloredenvelopeaddressed
tome“andguest.”IthadaWestHarbor,Connecticut,returnaddress.ThesenderwasMr.andMrs.KennethHopkins,Rosalie’s
parents.
“OhmyGod,”IcalledtoDina,who’djustthatmomentturnedoffthewater.“DidyouseewhatIgotinthemail?”
“No.What?”IheardthehooksontheshowercurtainrattleasDinathrewitbackandsteppedfromthetub.
“Aweddinginvitation.”Ifoundabutterknifeandopenedthethick,expensiveenvelope.“RosalieHopkinsisgettingmarried.”
“Oh,yeah.”Dinaappearedinthehallwaywearingonlytwofluffywhitetowels,onewrappedaroundherbody,theotheraround
herhair.“Iforgottotellyou.MymomsaidshesawRosalieandhermomattheWestfieldMallinTrumbulllastweek,and
shecouldhaveswornthey’dbeenlookingatbabystuffinGapKids.”
“Jesus!”Ijumped,bothatDina’swordsandthecascadeoffakegoldrosepetalsthatfellfromtheenvelopewhenIpulled
outtheinvitation.Aconfettibomb.SoRosalie.“Howcouldyounothavementionedthatuntilnow?”
“Theycouldhavebeenshoppingforarelative.”Dinashookherheadasshestaredatthemessonthefloor.“Butnowit’slookinglikemaybenot.WhatdumbassdidRosalieHopkinsgettoknockherupandthenagreetomarryher?”
Ilookedattheinvitation,whichwasexactlywhatIwouldhaveexpectedfromRosalie:extremelyproperandstuffy.
Mr.andMrs.KennethHopkins
requestthehonorofyourpresence
atthemarriageoftheirdaughter
RosalieAnne
to
WilliamRobertWalker
Saturday,thetwentiethofDecember
atsixo’clock
FirstProtestantChurch
WestHarbor,Connecticut
Receptiontofollow
WestHarborYachtClub
RSVP
BlackTie
IlookedatDinainastonishment.“OhmyGod,”Isaid,suddenlybarelyabletobreathe.“Billy.”
“No.”Dinasnatchedtheinvitationfromme.“Noway.”
Butitwastrue.
Ihadtogositdownonthefuton(whichservedasbothmybedandourlivingroomcouch)becauseIfeltalittlelight-headed.
“Howcouldhehavebeensostupid?”Dinaraged,stillstaringdownattheinvitation.
“It’sBilly,”Imurmured.“Youknowhowdumbheis.HeneverstoodachanceonceRosaliedecidedhewastheoneshewanted.”
“Yeah,buthecouldhavewornacondom.What’shegoingtodonow?”sheasked.“DropoutofNotreDameandbeRosalie’sfull-time
armcandyslashbabydaddy?”
“Iguessso.”Iputmyheadbetweenmyknees,notsomuchbecauseIwasstillfeelinglight-headed,buttoavoidhavingto
seeevidenceofRosalie’slatestoffense—theinvitationinDina’shands,thefakerose-petalconfettionourfloor.Instead,
Istudiedtheinsolesofmyboots.
“Still,youhavetoadmit,”Dinasaid,“he’llmakeagooddad.”
Ididn’tlookup.Ididn’tsayanything,either.Whatwastheretosay?
ThenDina’sbarefeet,withherdarkpurplepedicure,appearedinmylineofvision,andIfelthersitdownonthefuton
besideme.
“Hey,”shesaid,pattingmyshoulder.“Comeon.YouknowI’mright.Hewillmakeagooddad.Andyouknowwhat?Ibethe’llbehappy,too.TheonlythingBilly’severwantedistolovesomeone.Like,
reallylovesomeone.”
Ilookedupthen,andgaveanunsteadylittlelaugh.“Toanearlysuffocatingdegree.”
“Exactly.Ithinkallthosespellsyoudidforhim,wishinghimsuccess,worked.ThisiswhatsuccessmeanstoBilly.”
“Beingateendad?”
“Yes.I’mserious.Andyouknowwhatelse?There’sareasonyougotaninvitationandIdidn’t.Rosaliedoesn’texpectyou
tocometoherwedding—”
Isatupsofast,Igavemyselfaheadrush.“Iwouldnever!”
“Ofcoursenot.ButshewantstorubitinyourfacethatshegotBillyandyoudidn’t.”
“Why?SheknowsIbrokeupwithhim.WhywouldshethinkIcare?It’ssoweird.”
“Oh,comeon,Jess.Youdocarealittle.Whyelsedidyoudoallthosespells?YouwantBillytobehappy,don’tyou?”
“Yes,ofcourseIdo.That’swhyIwassogladwhenhefinallywentofftoschool.Ithoughthemighthaveachanceatgetting
awayfromheratlast—andfromme,andfromWestHarbor.ButnowRosalie’sfiguredouttheonewaytodraghimback,andkeephimtherewithherforever.”IlookeddownattheinvitationdanglingfromDina’shand,andsomething
clicked.“DoyouthinkRosaliesentmethatinvitationherself?”
Dinafollowedmygaze.“Asopposedtohavinghermotherdoit?Oroneofherdad’smanypersonalassistants?Iguessso.She
probablytookgreatsatisfactioninit,too,lickingtheenvelopeherselfandeverything.Why?”
“Becausethere’saspellinGoodyFletcher’sbookthatIcanmodifytosendhappinesstosomeoneremotely.”Ipluckedthe
invitationfromDina’shand.“AllIneedissomethingthepersonhastouched.”
Dinamadeaface.“WhywouldyouwanttosendhappinesstoRosalie?She’sdonenothingbuttrytomakeyourlifemiserable.AndnowBilly’s—ifyouconsiderhavingababywithRosalieHopkins
amisery,whichIdefinitelydo.”
“Idon’tcareaboutRosalie’shappiness.IcareaboutBilly’s.Rosalie’smarryingBilly.AndifRosalieishappy,Billywill
behappy,too.Wanttohelpme?”
“Sure.”Dinashrugged.“Whynot?”
Sothat’showwefoundourselves,alittlewhilelater,sittingcross-leggedonthefloorwithRosalieandBilly’sweddinginvitationbetweenus.I’dcircleditwithgentlyflamingtealightsandsprigsofpurifyingthyme,andopenedthewindowsofourcornerapartmenttoletinthecooleveningbreeze—andofcoursethetrafficnoisefromtheavenue,below.
“Oh,Gaia,”Isaid,“motherofusall,weaskyoutoprotectthiscouple,andsendthemallthelove,blessings,goodhealth,
andgoodfortunethatyoucan.”
Dina,whoseeyeshadbeenclosed,nowopenedthemandlookedatmecritically.“Sorrytointerrupt,butdoyoureallythink
it’sappropriatetoaskGaiatosendgoodfortunetothekidsoftwooftherichestfamiliesinWestHarbor?”
Iconsideredthis.“You’reright.Letmetrythatagain.”Weclosedoureyesandconcentrated.
“Oh,Gaia,motherofusall,”Isaid,“pleaseprotectthiscouple,andsendthemallthelove,blessings,goodhealth,and
goodfortunethatyoucansparefromthosewhoneeditmore.”
Agustofwindblewinsosuddenlyfromtheopenwindows,itcausedourlongwhitecurtains(repurposedbedsheets)toswell
andthenloudlysnap.DinaandIshrieked,notonlybecauseofthesound,butbecausethewindblewouttheflamesonall
oftheteacandlesI’darrangedaroundtheweddinginvitation,andwewereplungedintosemidarkness.Theonlylighttosee
bywastheyellowishglowofthestreetlampoutside.Init,Icouldseethebluesmokefromthecandlewicksdriftingacross
thelivingroom.
“Holyshit,”Dinasaid,hereyeswide.“Doyouthinkthatwasasign?”
“Idon’tknow.”Iwatchedasthewinddied,andthecurtainsfellbackintotheirnormalpositions.Thegoldrose-petalconfetti
fromtheweddinginvitationandthethymehadbothbeenblownacrosstheroomandnowlaytossedtogetherinapile.“Iguess
therealquestionis,ifitwasasign…wasitagoodone,orabadone?”
Jessica
Tobanishbadluck,placeanegg,stillinitsshell,inthybathingwaterunderawaningmoon.Disposeoftheeggfarfrom
home,orbetteryetnearthehomeofthineenemy.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
“Alotofpeopledon’trealizewe’remarried,”Billywassaying,“’causeRosaliekepthermaidenname.”
Derrick’sgazeonBillynarrowed.“Isee.”
“Well,it’sunderstandable,”Billywenton.“TheHopkinsesarekindofbigdealsaroundhere.ButsoaretheWalkers.Did
youpassanysignsonyourwayherefromthecityforWalkerHardware?”
Derrickshookhishead.“NotthatIrecall.”
“Youmusthave.WalkerHardwareismyfamily’scompany.That’swhyourkidsareWalker-Hopkins.WetriedHopkins-Walker,but
Rosiethoughtitsoundedlikesomekindofzombie.AHopkins-Walker,youknow?”Billychuckledtohimself.“Hey,wejustgot
theirnewschoolphotos.Doyouwanttoseethem,Jess?”
“Absolutely.”Icouldn’tmeetDerrick’sgaze.Iknewhewasright.IshouldhavementionedthatBillyandRosalieweremarried,likeIshouldhavementionedthatI’dseenBillyatthehighschool.Butsomanystrangethingshadbeengoingon,howwasIsupposedtoknowwhichonesactuallymattered?“HowareElizabethandBillyJuniordoing?”
“Oh,they’regreat.”Billyhadwhippedouthisphoneagain.“Billy’sbiggameagainstEastHarborMiddleSchooliscoming
upthisweekend.We’reallgoingtocheerhimon.AndLizzie’slovingbeingafreshmanoveratthehighschool.Didyouknow
she’sgoingtobeaHarvestPrincess?”
“No,Ididn’t.WhatexactlyisaHarvestPrincess?”
“Oh,it’salittlesomethingthatRosiedreameduptogetlocalgirlsmoreinterestedintheTricentennial.Theoneswhoget
pickedwillserveaspromotionalspokeswomenforthetownduringthecelebration.Youknow,they’llwalkaroundthesquare,
handingoutpamphletsandstuff.Here,checkoutthekids.”
“Aw.”IlookeddownatthephotosofminiRosalieandBilly,posingforthecameraintheirschooluniforms,anddidn’thave
tofakemysmile.IwasgenuinelyhappyforBilly.He’dgottenwhathe’dwantedmostinlife.Forthat,Iwasgratefulto
Rosalie.She’dgivenBillywhatInevercould—or,moreaccurately,neverwantedto—givehim.“Theylookgreat,Bill.”
“Thanks.They’reamazing.”
Billygazedatthephotosafewsecondsmore—longenoughformetoglanceinDerrick’sdirection,andseehimnarrowhiseyes
atme.Icouldtellexactlywhathewasthinking:Whydidn’tyoutellme?
ButtherewasnothingIcoulddoaboutitnow,soIshruggedandlookedaway.
“Anyway,thanksfortheoffer,”Isaid,“butnowisnotthebesttimeformetogovehicleshopping.”ThethoughtofwanderingaroundHopkinsMotorsandpossiblyseeingRosalieagainmademefeelqueasy.“Ihavetogetbacktomystore.”
“Icandropyouoffthere,Jess,”Billysaid,eagerly.“That’snoproblem.”
“That’sgenerous,Billy.”Derrick’seyeswereasbrightandasshinyastwindiamonds.“ButI’mgoinginthatdirection,anyway.
I’lltakeher.”
Billylookedconcerned.“Hey,bro,nooffense,butyourcarisn’tlookingthatgreat,either.Idon’tknowifI’driskdriving
thatthing.Yourwindshieldis—”
“Itwillbefine,”DerricksaidinatonethatcausedBillytoquicklychangethesubject.
“Youknow,Jess,”hesaid,lookingaroundthelivingroom,“Ireallylikewhatyou’vedonewiththeplacesinceyourparents
movedout.”
“Um.Thanks.”
Whatwashappening?I’dtoldaseeminglydown-and-outDerrickhecouldstaywithme—merelybecausehe’dbeenlivinginhis
rentalcarandtherewasasupernaturalmenacethreateningmytownwhichhe’dswornhecouldhelpusfight—andnowhewas
appointinghimselfmychauffeur?
Andwhataboutthatkiss?
Becauseitwasonethingtobepretend-datingahandsomestrangeryouweremildlyattractedto.
Butitwasquiteanothertobepretend-datingsomeonewhosekissmadeyoufeelasifyouwerebeingcaressedalloverbygentle
wavesofrain-scentedlightning,andwhoselipsyounowwantedtofeelovertherestofyourbody.
Wasthispartofthecurse—orwhateveritwas—onWestHarbor?WoulditgoawayassoonastheBringerofLightandIbroke
it?WouldDerrick?
Probably.Whichwasfine,becausethelastthingIneededrightnowwasaromanticrelationship.
“Well,we’dbettergo,then,Derrick,sinceI’mrunninglateasitis,”Isaid,andliftedthetoteI’dbroughtwithmeto
theschoolandstartedtowardthemudroom,whereIintendedtoswapitoutforsomethingthatdidnotcontaincrumbsfrom
thenowdentedbrowniecontainer.“Itwasgreatseeingyou,Billy.”
“Oh.”Billylookedcrestfallen.“I’llwalkoutwithyou.”
Imanagedasmile.“Great.Letmejustgogetmyotherbag.”
Unfortunately,I’dhardlybeeninthemudroomforaminutebeforeIfoundmyselfwithcompany.
“Whydidn’tyoutellmeRosalieHopkinsmarriedyourex-lover?”DerrickkepthisvoicelowenoughthatBilly,outintheliving
room,wouldn’tbeabletooverhearhim.
“Whydidn’tyoutellmethatyouweregoingtotellBillythatwe’redating?”Iwhisperedback.“Andhe’snotmyex-lover.”
Heraisedhiseyebrowsinsurprise.“Youtwoneverslepttogether?”
“Ofcoursewedid.Notthatit’sanyofyourbusiness.”Ibenttotransfermywallet,cellphone,andlipstickcasefrommy
totebagintotheslouchycrossoverbagIintendedtotakewithmetotheshop.DerrickwascloseenoughthatIcouldfeel
theheatradiatingoffhisbody—andsmellthefreshcleanscentofthebodywashfromthegym.Dammit.Whydidhehavetosmell
good,too?“Butitsoundsweirdtocallsomeoneyouwentoutwithinhighschoolyourlover.Wouldyoucallyourhighschool
girlfriendyourlover?”
Helookedtakenaback.“No.BecauseIdidn’thaveahighschoolgirlfriend.”
“Youdidn’t?”Ipaused,surprised,inthemiddleofmybagswap.“Whynot?”ThenIgasped.Suddenly,everythingmadesense.“OhmyGod.Thatotherentityyouworkfor—it’stheCatholicChurch,isn’tit?You’reavampirehunter.That’swhyyoudidn’thaveagirlfriendinhighschool.Youweretoobusyslayingthosedemonsyouknowsomuchabout.”
Heglaredatme.“No,actually.Iwashomeschooled.”
“Homeschooled?”ThisansweredDina’squestionofwhyshecouldn’tfindhimonClassmates.com.“Oh.SoI’mright.Yourdad
tookyouondemonhuntingmissions?”
“Again,no.Igrewuponafarm.”Heshruggedasifthiswasthemostmatter-of-fact,normalthingintheworld.“Mydaddid
needmyhelp—butwiththeanimals,notdemons.”
“Oh.”Hehadn’tsaidthiswithhisnormalcockiness,however.Igotthesensethat“helpingwiththeanimals”hadbeenno
walkinthepark—norhadlivingwithhisfather.Hedidn’tseemtohaveappreciatedmyvampirehuntercrack,either.Hadit
hitalittletooclosetohome?“Okay.Well,Ididn’tmentionRosaliebeingmarriedtomyex-boyfriendbecauseitdidn’tseem
important…thesamewayitdidn’tseemimportanttoyoutomentiontomethatyouweregoingtoposeinfrontofmyex
asmyfakeboyfriend,thenkissme,eventhoughItoldyou,barelyanhourago,thatyoucan’tgoaroundgrabbingwomenlike
thatwithouttheirpermission.”
Hefrowned,seemingtogivethematterseriousthought.“Right.Youdid.Andonceagain,Iapologize.ButIonlydiditto
protectyou.Atthetime,IreallydidthinkBillymightbepossessedbyademon.”
“ThatisthesinglemostridiculousthingIeverheard.”
“Didyounoticehisteeth?Andhisskin?Thatcan’tpossiblybenatural.Isitaglamour?”Heglancedbacktothelivingroom.“Itlookssoreal.”
Istaredathim.“That’scalledafaketanandveneers,Derrick.Rosalieisintothatkindofstuff.AndBilly’sintoRosalie,whichiswhyhegoesalongwithit.ButevenBillyhashislimits.Like,Billywouldneverconsenttohavingaglamourspellcastoverhim.Idoubtheevenknowswhataglamouris,orthatRosalieisawitch.”
NowDerrickstaredatme.“She’sacouncilmemberoftheWCW.Howcouldhenotknow?”
“BecauseRosaliedoesn’twanthimtoknow.Andhedoesn’twanttoknow.Howdoyounotknowaboutveneersandfaketansandaskingwomen’spermissionbeforetouchingthem?”Ishookmyhead.“Areyousure
you’renotavampirehunter?Orisitthatyoujustdidn’thavecableorInternetonthefarm?”
“Yes,”hesaid,offendedagain.“Ofcoursewedid.Whatwedidn’thavewereanywomen.”
Istaredathim,certainhewasjoking.
Butwhenheonlystaredbackatme,Irealizednopunchlinewasonitsway.
“Wait.Nowomen?Wherewasyourmother?”
“Sheleft.”
Hesaiditsimply,withoutanyemotion.Still,Ididn’tneedextrasensoryperceptiontotellthatthiswasasensitivesubject.
Icouldseethatmuscleleapingaroundinhisjawagain.Stayaway,itseemedtoscream.Stayawayfromthistopic.
Yikes.Messagereceived.
“Okay,”Isaid,shakingmyheadsomemorewhileshoulderingmybag.“Well,Icanseethatwe’regoingtoneedtowatchalot
ofrealitytelevisiontogetyouup-to-dateonyourpopculturereferences.Areyoureallydrivingmetomyshop?Because
Idon’tneedanescortorbodyguardorwhateveritisyouthinkyouare.”
“Ifanything,Iwouldthinkthatwhat’sgoneonthisafternoonbetweenhim”—hejerkedhisthumbinBilly’sdirection—“and
hiswifehasmorethanamplyproventhatyoudo.”
“Right.”Itookadeepbreath.“I’llletyouwinthisone.Tellmesomething,though.Haveyoualwaysbeenabletodothat
thingwithyourfingers?”
“Whatthingwithmyfingers?”
“Youknow,thatthingyoudidalittlewhileagotomyknee.Andthenwhenwekissed—”
HisgazewasasbrightasanewmoonovertheSoundonacloudlesswinternight.Anditwasfocusedonmylips,whichwas
morethanalittledistracting—especiallysinceIcouldn’tseemtolookawayfromhislips,either.“Whenwekissed,what?”
“Whenwekissed….”ItwasimpossibletorememberwhatIwasgoingtosaywhenthoselips,sofullandexpressive,were
inview,andsotantalizinglyclosetomine.
“Jess?”Billystartledmebycallingfromthelivingroom.“Sorry,butIhavetoheadoutnow.Rosiejustcalled.Sheneeds
metopickupsomealmondmilkonmywayhome.”
ItoremygazefromDerrickWinters’smouth.“Berightthere,Billy!”
ThenIhurriedfromthemudroom,silentlycursingmyself.IfthiswaswhatitwasliketobetheChosenOne,I’dbemorethan
happytobeunchosenDerrick
AtrueWitchdoesnotworshipevil,oranyentityknownas“Satan”or“TheDevil.”
RuleNumberFouroftheNineRules
*WorldCouncilofWitches*
Derricksatinthechairtowhichhe’dbeenrelegatedinthefrontcornerofJessica’sshop—the“FriendsandFamilyChair,”
hergigglycoworkerBeccacalledit,sinceapparentlyitwaswherethefriendsandfamilyoftheshop’sclientelesatand
waitedwhiletheshoppersweretryingonclothes.
TherewasamatchingarmchairacrossfromDerrick’s,andinitsatasmallolderwomantendingtoatoddlerinababycarriage
whileayoungerwoman—presumablyherdaughter,thetoddler’smother—shopped.Theolderwomanhadmadeseveralattemptsat
smalltalkwithDerrick,beginningwithasympathetic,“Waitingonyourwife?”
Derrickhadonlygrunted“No,ma’am”inreply.He’dlearneditwasbettertoshutdownconversationswithmembersofthepublic
asquicklyaspossible,beforetheygottoopersonal.LikeJessicaaskingabouthischildhood.Hedidn’tneedherknowing
aboutthat.
Notthatshewasamerememberofthepublic.AsafellowwitchandtheChosenOne,shewasobviouslysignificantlymorethanthat.
Butthelesssheknewaboutwhohereallywas,thebetterforbothofthem.
“Girlfriend?”Grandmaaskednext,cheerfullyundeterredbyhiscurtness.
Derrickcouldn’tbelievethis.He’dstakedoutafinepositionforhimselfhereinthisreallyrathercomfortablysoftleather
armchair,withJessica’sfriendlycat,Pye,sleepinginhislap,andthebookhewascurrentlyreading—orcouldpretendto
read,sincehewassupposedtobekeepinganeyeoutforunusualphenomenaandthedemonicallypossessed.Herehecouldkeep
Jessica—busilyslashingthepricesofmerchandisethathadn’tbeenpurchasedduringtheweekendsale—inhissights.
Butthisgrandmotherlywomankepttryingtodistracthim.Eventhekidinthestrollerkeptgurglingathim,happilywaving
atoyrabbitwithabellinitsear.Thebelljingledeverytimethekidbounceditinhisdirection.
Derrickdidn’thavealotofexperiencewithkids,buthedidn’tdislikethem.Hesimplywasn’ttheretoplaywithakid,
chitchatwithgrandmothers,orentertainthestaresofthewomenofWestHarbor.HewastheretokeeptheChosenOnesafe.
Whywaseveryoneinthistownsointentonkeepinghimfromdoingso?
“Yes,ma’am,”Derricksaid,tosatisfyGrandmaandhopefullykeepherquiet.“I’mwaitingformygirlfriend.”
“Oh,hownice.”Grandmatookthetoyrabbitfromhergrandchild’sfingersandbounceditintheair,causingthebelltoringevenmoreloudlyandthetoddlertoshriekwithdelight.“Isn’tthisalovelyshop?Mydaughtersbuyalltheirclotheshere.Sodoesmydaughter-in-law.Well,she’snotmydaughter-in-lawyet,becausesheandmysonstillaren’tmarried.Livingtogetherforyearsandstillnoplansforawedding.Idon’tunderstandwhat’stakingthemsolong.Maybeyoucanexplainit,youlookaboutmyson’sage.What’ssowrongwithmarriage,Iaskyou?”
DerrickglancedatJessica,butshewasnowhelpingthewoman’sdaughterwithagownshewantedtotryon.There’dbenorescue
fromthatdirection.
“Nothing’swrongwithit,”Derricksaid,loweringhisbook.“Maybeyoursonissimplywaitinguntilhe’sfoundtherightperson.”
“Buthehas!DinaandMarkhavebeentogethersincehighschool.They’reintheirthirties.Theyownahomeandthreebeagles
together.Surelytheyhavetoknowbynowthatthey’rerightforeachother.”
“Well,thenwhatdoesitmatteriftheygetmarried?”Derrickasked.“Maybetheydon’tfeeltheyhavetolegitimizetheir
relationshipintheeyesofotherswithabigexpensivepartyandaslipofpaper.”
Theolderwomanlookedhorrified.“It’stradition.”
“Aren’ttraditionsmadetobebroken?”
“Yousoundexactlylikemyson.Whichoftheyoungladieshereisyourgirlfriend?”
Derrickwasconfidenthewasnevergoingtoseethiswomanagain,sohepointed.“Her.”
Theoldwoman’sgazefollowedhisfinger.Thenhereyeswidened.“Her?”
“Yes,”Derricksaid.
“You’redatingJessicaGold?”
Derrickhesitated.Wait.Whydidthiswomanlooksodelighted?DidsheknowJessica?Itwasasmalltown.Thelikelihoodwasthatshedid.Hadhescrewedup?Oh,well,whatdiditmatter?Likeitornot,he’dbegoneinafewdays,eitherbecausehe’dfailedinhismissionorbecausehe’dsucceeded,andwasontohisnextone.
“Yes,”hesaid.“JessicaGoldismygirlfriend.”
Itfeltgoodtosayit.Strangely,invigoratinglygood.
“Well,”thegrandmothersaid,beaming.“I’msohappytohearthat.It’sbeenawhilesinceJessicahadanicefellow.And
wheredidyoutwo—?”
Mercifully,Derrick’sphonerang.Whenhelookeddownatthescreenandsawwhowascalling,hesaid,“Pardonme,ma’am,but
Ihavetotakethis.”
“Oh,please.”Theoldwoman’seyestwinkledasshereachedforherownphone.“Goahead.Don’tmindme.”
Derrickdidmindher,however.Theenemywaseverywhereandcouldlooklikeanyone,includingthiskindlygrandmother—ora
formerhighschoolfootballplayerwhonowsoldcarsforhisfather-in-law.Youcouldneverbetoocareful.
Derrickexcusedhimself,laiddownhisbook,liftedaprotestingPyefromhislap,andsteppedoutsidetheshoptotakehis
call,makingsuretocatchJessica’seyeonhiswayoutsoshe’dknowwherehewas.Shenoddedasheliftedhisphonetohis
ear—andeventhoughhewashalfwayoutthedoor,hedidn’tmisstheamusedglancesheexchangedwithtwentysomethingBecca,
thebubblybrunettewho’dbeensneakingsurreptitiousglancesathimeversincehe’dsetfootintheplace.
DidnooneinWestHarbortakeanythingseriously?
“Hello,”hesaidintothephonewhenhewassafelyonthesidewalkoutsidetheshop.HecouldstillseeJessicainsidethrough
theenormousplateglassdisplaywindows,adjustingthehemofagowntheyoungmotherwastryingon.“Didyougetmymessage?”
“OfcourseIgotit.”Thepersonontheotherendofthephonesoundedgrim.“WhydoyouthinkI’mcalling?Areyouhonestly
tellingmethatRosalieHopkins—”
“ExactlywhatIwrotetoyou.”Hedidn’twanttosayitoutloud.ThefoottrafficonWestHarbor’smainthoroughfarewasn’t
asbadasithadbeenovertheweekend,butitwasstillsurprisinglybriskforaMonday.DerrickhadtostickclosetoEnchantments’
doorwaytokeepoutoftheway—andtokeephisendoftheconversationfrombeingoverheard.
“Wealwayssuspected.Butthatkindofpower—andthatkindofblatantdisregardforlife…”Thecallerseemedperplexed.
“Wehaven’tseenanythinglikethatsince—”
“That’swhyIwrote.BetweenthatandtheBringerofLight’sexceptionalgifts—ifthey’retrue—Ihaveafeelingwemightneed
toacceleratethingsabit.”
Thecaller’svoicesharpened.“Acceleratethemhow?”
“Well,tostartwith,maybebytellingJessicaGoldthetruth.”
Hedidn’twanttosayit.Heknewthekindofreactionhewasgoingtoget.
Buthehadtosaysomething,becauseJessicadeservedthetruth.Ifthewomanwasgoingtoputherlifeontheline—andthat
wasclearlywhatshewasdoing,thankstoRosalie—sheneededtoknowwhoshewasreallyworkingfor.
Butthecaller,ashe’dpredicted,disagreed.Strongly.
“No!Absolutelynot!Doyouwanttogetherkilled?”
“Shewasverynearlykilledearliertoday,”hesaidterselyintothephone,whileturningtolookthroughthedisplaywindow.
Jessicawasnowhavingananimatedconversationwiththetoddler’smotherwhilemakingsubtlechangestothegownshe’dtried
on.BeforeDerrick’seyes,thewomanbloomed,becomingprettyasarose.Butnotasprettyasherstylist.“IfIhadn’tbeen
there—”
“Thenstaythere.Continuedoingwhatyou’redoing.Don’tletheroutofyoursight.”
Derrickfoughtforpatience.“PleaseexplaintomehowI’msupposedtodothat.Thisisn’ttheMiddleAges.Didyouknowthat
followingawomaneverywhereshegoescanbeconsideredharassment?”
Thecallerscoffed.“Howisitharassmentwhenyou’resavingherlife?”
“Whenshedoesn’tknowthat’swhatyou’redoingbecauseshedoesn’trealizetheenormityofthethreatagainsther.”Derrick
reacheduptosqueezethebridgeofhisnose.Hiseyeshurt.Wasitallthecaffeine,thelackofsleep,ortheabsurdamount
ofstresshewasunder?Probablyallthree.“Look,Iwasthinking:Whatifwechangedthingsupandsimplyeliminatedthe
threatagainsther?”
Theresponsewasimmediate—andexactlywhathe’dexpect.“No!YouknowhowIfeelaboutbloodshed.”
“I’mnottalkingaboutbloodshed.”Probably.“Asimplebindingspellwouldkeepthewomanfromdoinganymoreharm.Andit
wouldbewhatshedeserves—she’samenace.”
“YouknowwhatthepenaltiesareforcastingabindingspellonaCouncilmember?”
“LuckyformeI’mnotaCouncilmember,then,isn’tit?”hequipped.
“Veryfunny.Butyouknowit’stoorisky.You’rerightthatshe’samenace—butshe’samenacewithpowerfulmagicthatwe
mightneedonoursidewhenthetimecomes…ifwecanturnher,thatis.”
Derrickraisedhiseyebrows.“Youaren’tsuggestingthatItryto—?”
“No.She’dneverlistentoyou.Butthegirl—shemightlistentoher.”
“Whatgirl?DoyoumeantheChosenOne?Becausetakeitfromme,thosetwoarenotonthebestterms—”
“No,notthatone.Theother…”
Hewasusedtothecallerspeakingincryptictermslikethis.He’dlearnedlongagotoignoreit.Hehimselfpreferredaction—but
hedidn’toftengetwhathewanted.
“Fine,”hesaid,withacertainamountofsarcasm.“ThenI’llcontinueprotectingtheChosenOnefromourownpeople—andthe
weather.”
Thecaller’svoicewarmed.“You’reagoodboy.HaveItoldyouthatlately?”
“Youthinkso?Well,inthatcase,givemearaise.Abigone.”
Thiswasfollowedbylaughter.Thenthecallerhungup—withoutsayinggoodbye,asusual.
Heputhisphoneaway,thenturnedaroundandwentinside.Notmuchhadchanged.Themotherofthetoddlerhaddisappeared
intothedressingroom,presumablychangingbackintoherstreetclothes,andGrandmawasstillwaitinginthesecondFriends
andFamilychair,herphoneneatlytuckedaway.
“Well,”shesaidconversationally,asDerricksatdownagain.“Howwasyourcall?”
“Fine.”Hiscoffeecupwasempty.Itwasafterfive.Hereallycouldn’tdrinkanotherone,orhe’dneversleeptonight.But
withwhatheknewnow,couldheaffordtosleep?
“Itdoesn’tlooklikeitwasfine.”Grandmaplayedwiththebabysomemore.“Whowasit?Yourboss?”
“Sortof,”Derricksaid,andsettledbackintohischairforwhathepresumedwouldbemanymorehoursofwaiting.“Itwas
mymother.”
Jessica
Tostopthosewhospeakillofthee,diptheirnamesinhoney.Henceforththeonlywordstheyspeakoftheewillbesweet.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
ItwashardtofocusonworkwithDerrickWinterssittinginmyshop.
Itwasn’tonlybecauseeverytimeIglancedinthatdirection,therehewas,remindingmeofWestHarbor’simpendingdoom—not
tomentionthatkisswe’dshared.
Itwasalsobecauseofhowfastwordhadspreadthathewasthere.WestHarborwasasmallenoughtownthateveryoneknew
everyoneelse’sbusiness(andwhattheydidn’tknow,theymadeup).
IrealizedthatthemomentIfeltatugonmysleeveasIwastryingtorefoldadecimatedpileofsummerstretchcaprisjust
beforeclosing,andsawDinastandingbesideme,herdarkeyeshuge.
“OhmyGod,Jess,”shesaid.“Tellmeit’strue.”
ForsomereasonIthoughtshewastalkingaboutthehailstormRosaliehadcreatedtodemolishmycar.“Oh,it’strue.Shenearlykilledmethistime.”
“What?Whonearlykilledyou?”Dinawasconfused.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
Dinawasn’ttheonlyonewhowasconfused.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“I’mtalkingaboutthefactthatthat’shim,isn’tit?”ShenoddedtowardDerrick,stillsittingintheFriendsandFamily
ChairwithPyecurledinhislap,hisgazeonapairofolderwomenlingeringbythecrystaldisplaynearthedoor,butwho
actuallyhadeyesononlyoneitem:him.“Hashereallybeensittingthereallafternoon?”
“Um.Yes.”
WhenDerrickhadpulledintoaparkingspaceclosetoEnchantmentstodropmeoff,I’dremovedmyseatbeltandreachedfor
thecardoorhandle,sayingbrightly,“Well,thanksfortheride.Theshopclosesatseven,soI’llseeyouathomearound
then.”
Iprobablyshouldn’thavebeensurprisedwhenhe’dreplied,“I’mcominginwithyou.”
“Youare?Why?”
“Incaseyou’veforgotten,youwereseriouslyinjuredafewhoursago.”Heundidhisownseatbelt.“I’mnotgoingtoallow
thattohappenagain.I’mstayingwithyouuntiltheBringerofLighthasbeentrainedandyou’vebothsavedthistown.”
“Butyoucan’tjusthangaroundinsideawomen’sclothingshop.”
“Watchme.”
He’dthenproceededtodojustthat.
Ihadtoadmit,hispresencedidn’tseemtoadverselyaffecttransactions—ifanything,theywentup.Ihadtocallinmyassistantsalesmanager,Zahrah—eventhoughI’dgivenherthedayoff—foremergencyreinforcementsincesomanypeoplewereshowingupandactuallymakingpurchases.TheonlythingDerrick’sbeingatEnchantmentsseemedtonegativelyaffectwasmyabilitytoconcentrate.
“Letmeguess,”IsaidtoDina.“MamaG.”
“Yougotthatright.Ithinkshecalledeverysinglepersoninhercontactlist.”DinatookhalfthepileofcaprisI’dbeen
foldingandbeganneatlystackingthembackintotheirrack.“Prettygoodforbusiness,though,huh?Itlookslikeyouhave
asmanycustomersinhereontheMondayafterthebigsaleasyouhadovertheweekendduringthesale.Andtheyaren’tall
looky-loos.”Hergazelandedonthetwoolderwomenbythedoor.“Well,maybesomeofthemare.”
“That’sallanybodyistalkingabout?”Iasked.“Thefactthatthere’ssomeguysittinginmyshop?Nothingelse?”
“Whatelsewouldtheybetalkingabout?”Dinaasked,puzzled.
Shehadn’theard.Noonewastalkingaboutthefreakhailstormatthehighschool.
She’dfindoutaboutiteventually.Salwasboundtomentionit.Hisowncarmightnothavebeendamaged—facultyparkingwas
intheback—butotherscertainlyhad.
Soshe’dfindout.I’dtellheraboutBluebell—andBilly—eventually.Butnotnow.Toomanypeoplecouldoverhear.
“Andheisn’tsomeguy,Jess,”Dinawenton.SheshookherheadasshegazedatDerrick.“Idon’tblamethosetwooverthereforstaring.Whydidn’t
youtellmeaboutthoseshoulders?Andthosecheekbones!Youcouldgrateparmesanonthose,they’resosharp.”
“Dina.”Iturnedtoputtherestofthecaprisbackwheretheybelonged.“Domeafavor?”
“Anything.”
“TellZahrahtogoaheadandclosetheregister.I’vegottostartshuttingthisplacedownorwe’llnevergetoutofhere.”
Dinagrinned.“Sure.Butfirsttellmehowitwentwithyournewmentee.”
MyvisitwithEstherseemedtohavehappenedinadifferentlifetime.“Itwentfine.Canwetalkaboutitlater?”
“Sure.MeetmeandMarkatMamaG’sfordinner.”Hervoicerosetoateasinglilt.“Youcanbringyournewboyfriend.”
“He’snotmy—”
“That’snotwhathetoldMamaG!”
“Dina.It’snotreal.We’refakedating.It’sallpartofhisplantosaveWestHarborfromsinkingintoademonicrift.”
“Ooo-ooh,nowtherearedemons?”Shelaughedwithdelight.“That’sgreat.Butcomeon.Lookathim.Somethingshouldhappenbetweenyoutwo.AndIthinkheandMarkwillreallygetalong.Theyhavealotincommon.”
IlookedfromDerrick—nowopenlyglaringatthetwowomenwho’dbeenstaringathim—toDinaandthenbackagain.
“Becausetheybothwearmotorcyclejackets?”Whatelsediddark-haired,ItalianrestaurateurMarkhaveincommonwithmyblond,
fakewitchboyfriendDerrick?
“No!”Dinalaughedsomemore.“Becausethey’rebothmama’sboys.”
Iwasconfused.“Whatdoyoumean?”
ButbeforeIhadachancetofindout,thebellovertheshopdoortinkled.IglancedovertoseethatDerrickwasholding
openthedoorwithonehand,whilesweepinghisotherouttowardthedarknessthathadfallenoverthePostRoad,givinghis
twofansacourtlybow.
“Sorry,ladies,”hesaid,inresponsetotheirsurprisedglances.“It’sseveno’clock.Closingtime.Please,allowme.”
Thewomen,blushingandtittering,lefttheshop.Oncetheyweregone,Derrickclosedthedoor,lockingitbehindthem,thenflippedtheComeIn!We’reOpensigntothesidethatsaidSorry!We’reClosed
“Finally,”hesaidwithsatisfaction,lockingthedeadbolt.“Ithoughtthey’dneverleave.”
BeccaandZahrah,behindthecashregister,burstintogiggles,butIgaveDerrickadisapprovinglook.
“What?”hedemanded,noticingmyglare.“Thosetwowerenevergoingtobuyanythinganyway.”
“He’sright,”Zahrahsaid.“Theywereonlywindow-shopping.”
“Andnotforanythingweactuallysell,”Beccaadded,andthensheandZahrahcollapsedintosnortsoflaughter.
Iwasgivingthemadisapprovinglookwhen—thump!Somethingstruckthefrontdisplaywindow.
Expectingtoseeadazedbird—theysometimesflewintothewindowpaneduringmigrationseason—Iwasstartledwheninstead
Isawthatacurvypurple-hairedLatinagirlhadsuddenlythrownherselfagainstit.Therewasasmall,frantic-lookingdog
clutchedinherarms.
“Wolf!”wecouldallhearhercryingfranticallythroughtheglass.“There’sawolf!”
ZahrahandBeccastoppedlaughing,andDina,flingingherhandstohercheeks,cried,“Mark’swolf!OhmyGod!It’sreal.”
Itmadenosense.HowcouldtherebeawolfinWestHarbor?EspeciallydowntownWestHarbor,wherepeoplewerestillhurrying
alongthesidewalkinordertomakeittotheCountryGourmettopickuptheirpreparedfoodfordinnerbeforeitclosed.
Still,DerrickandIreactedatthesametime,andsosimilarlythatwealmostcollidedintooneanother:
Webothranforthedoor.
“Whatareyoudoing?”IcriedasDerrick’shardfingerssankintomysoftshoulders.
“Stay.Here.”Thenhepushedmebehindhimbeforethrowingbackthedeadboltandopeningthedoor.
“Sweetheart?”hesaidtothegirlinavoiceI’dneverheardhimusebefore,itwassogentle.“Comehere.”
It’sweirdhowourbrainsrespondinmomentsofperil.Mineregisteredthesoftnessofhisvoiceandthought,Thatmustbehowhetalkedtotheanimalsonthefarm.Nowonderhisdadwouldn’tlethimgotoschool.Heneededhim.
Thegentlenessofhisvoiceseemedtowork.BeforeIknewit,theteenagerwasinsidetheshop,pantingbreathlesslyandsqueezing
herlittledognearlytodeathashergazescannedthenight-darkenedsidewalkoutside.Isawnosignsofawolf—oranything
else,exceptanormalchillynightinOctober,withnormalWestHarborresidentshurryingtogethometotheirlovedones.
Buttherewasnodenyingtheterrorinhergaze.
“Wait!”shecried,asDerrickthrewthedoorclosedbehindherandpreparedtolockit.“Myfriend!She’sstilloutthere,
intheparkinglot,aroundtheback!”
Derricklookedatme,hissilvereyessobrighttheymightaswellhavebeenstars.“Lockthedoorbehindme,”hesaidto
me,thenplungedoutintothedarkness.
Whatwasgoingon?Wolfattacksdidn’thappeninWestHarbor—atleast,nonethatI’deverheardof.
ExceptthathereIwas,lockingmyshopdooragainstone.
“Holyshit,”Dinacried,rushingforwardwithBeccaandZahrahtosurroundtheterrifiedgirl.“Areyouallright,honey?”
“Didthewolfbiteyou?”Beccaasked.“Whataboutyourpuppy?”
“Doyouwantsomewater?”Zahrahwantedtoknow.“What’syourname?Canwecallyourparents?”
Thegirl,overwhelmed,couldonlygazeouttheglassdoorafterDerrick.“No.IthinkI’mokay.MynameisGabby.”
IgaspedasIturnedaroundafterthrowingthedeadboltintoplace.“Gabby?AreyouEsther’sfriend?”
Shenodded,gazingupatmewithmascara-smeared,tear-filledeyes.“Yes,GabriellaAquino.WewerejustoutwalkingWilla—that’s
mydog—aftertheHarvestPrincessmeeting,andIwassayinghowluckyEstieistohaveyouforamentor.Ilovethisshop.
Iwouldgiveanythingtoworkhere.Sowedecidedtowalkby.Nottospyonyou,oranything,”sheadded,hastily.“Iwouldneverdosuchathing.ButIwantedtoseeifyou’ddiscountedanything
evenmoresincetheFallintoFallsale.Igottheseshoeshere.”Shepointedtothepurpleclogsshewaswearing.“Butjust
aswewerecuttingthroughtheparkinglotoutback,thiswolf—atleast,Ithinkitwasawolf—appearedoutofnowhere,and—”
Shebrokeoff,shuddering,whichwasjustaswellbecauseitwasatthatpointthatIsawPyeslinkintoview.He’drealized
therewasadogintheshop—wolfordomesticpet,itdidn’tmatter,Pyehatedalldogsequally—andhadleapedsilentlyup
ontothesalescounter,histailpuffed.
“It’sokay,”Isaidsoothingly,slippinganarmaroundthegirlandturninghersothatherbackwastoPye.Thedog,unfortunately,
nowhadaperfectviewofthecat,andbegantowhimper—andrightfullyso.Pyewasharmless—unlessyouwereamouse,chipmunk,
orsmalllapdog.“MyfriendDerrickwillfindEstherandbringherhere,goodasnew.”
“Really?Doyouthinkso?”Gabbysniffled.“I’msoworried.Ishouldn’thaveleftheroutthere,butIwasjustsoworried
forWil—”
Bang.Wealljumpedasafiststrucktheglassdoor.ItwasDerrick,standingbesideasmilingEsther.“Heeeyyyy!”shecalled,wagglingherglovedfingersatGabby.Shewasdressedinthesameclothesshe’dbeenwearingwhenI’dseenheratschool,includingherbackpack—whichmeantthat,unlessshe’dfoundandremovedit,shestillhadmyprotectiveamethystwithher.
“Look,”IsaidtoGabby,relieffloodingovermeasIhurriedtounlockthedoor.“Theretheyare,justlikeItoldyou.”
Weirdly,itwasn’tonlyEstherIwashappytosee.ObviouslyIwasgladtoseeEsther.Shewasmymentee,andevenmorethan
that,shewasasixteen-year-oldgirl.Whowouldn’tberelievedatseeingasixteen-year-oldgirlaliveandwellandunharmed
bysomerandomescapedwolfinConnecticut?
ButIwasgladtoseeDerrick,too,amanI’dknownonlyforafewdays—andwhosepresenceinmylifehadturneditcompletely
upsidedown.
Whatwasupwiththat?
“Gabs,”Esthercriedassoonasshegotintotheshop.“Youcompletelymissedit!”
“Missedit?”Gabby,exasperated,putherdogdownonthefloorjustintime—Pyehadbeenabouttotakeaswipeathimfrom
thesalescounter.“Itwasawolf.Awolf,Estie.Whereevenwereyou?Iwasscaredtodeathforyou!”
“Yeah,Iknow.Sorry.”Thetwogirlshuggedtightly—apleasingsighttosee,atleasttome,sinceEstherwassotalland
thin,andGabbysosmallandround,andyettheyseemedtofitsoperfectlytogethersomehow.“Butitwassocool.Thisguyherechaseditupontotherailroadtracks.Itdisappearedintothebushes.”
“Wait.”Dinawasleaningagainstthesalescounter,onehandcurledaroundPyetokeephimfromlaunchinghimselfatWilla.
“Therereallywasawolf?”
“Hardtosay.”Derrickwasn’tmeetinganyone’sgaze.“It’sprettydarkout.”
“Itwasawolf,”Esthersaidfirmly.“Agreatbiggraywolf.”
“Itwasfollowingus,”Gabbysaid.“ItfollowedusallthewayfromtheHarvestPrincessmeetingattheYachtClubdownthe
joggingtrailtothebackofEnchantments.IthinkitwasafterWilla.”
“Ididareportonwolvesonceinthesixthgrade,”Esthersaid,“andwhiledeeraretheirpreferredsourceoffood,they’ll
preyonsmallmammals,aswell.”
GabbysquealedandburiedherheadinthemuchtallerEsther’sneck.
“Well,it’sgonenow,”Derricksaidinavoicethatwasunusuallycheerful.“Everyoneissafe.”
“Yeah,”Esthersaid,andgaveGabbyonelastsqueezebeforelettinghergo.“We’regoodnow,right?”
Gabbynoddeduncertainly.“Iguessso.”
Derrickgavemeapenetratinglook.Heseemedtothinktelepathywasoneofmygifts.
AndifIcouldhavereadhismind,itwouldhavebeengreatbecauseIwouldhavebeenmorepreparedforwhathesaidnext,
whichwas,“ButIthinktobeonthesafeside,JessicaandIshouldtakeyougirlshome.”
Wait.What?
“Oh,youdon’thavetodothat,”Esthersaid,atthesametimethatherbestfriendbeamedandsaid,“Oh,thanks.Thatwould
begreat.”
ApparentlybeingchosenmeantIwasalsopartofarideshareservicefortheBringerofLight.
Whichwasfine,exceptthatbecauseGabbywasinthecarwithus,wecouldn’tactuallyusethetimetodiscusstherealreason
I’dcontactedEstherearlierthatday—orwhyitwasthatwolveshadbegunappearingindowntownWestHarborlately.
Instead,IfoundmyselfinthefrontseatofDerrick’srentalcar,anindignantPyeinacardboardboxonmylap,listeningtoEsther—inthebackseatwithGabby—explainwhythey’dbeenatameetingforHarvestPrincessvolunteersinthefirstplace.
“IonlywentalongtosupportGabby,”shesaid.“Shereallyneedstheextracurricularsforhercollegeapps.Shedoesn’thave
any,exceptband.AndalsobecausethemeetingsareattheYachtClub,andtheygiveoutthosecookies—”
“OhmyGod,yeah.”Gabbysoundedwistful.“Thosechocolatechipcookiesarethebest.”
“Right?”Estheropenedherbackpack.“Doyouguyswantone?Istole,like,twentyofthem.”
“No,thankyou.”Ireallywantedoneofthecookies,butoneglanceatDerrick’ssternprofiletoldmethatIneededtokeep
theconversationontrack.“Soyoudon’twanttobeaHarvestPrincess,Esther?”
“No.”Estherleanedback,munching.Irespectedhowherdevotiontoveganismwasdependentonthelevelofchocolateinthe
availablesnacks.“Idon’tcareaboutprincesses.Gabby’stheonewholoooooovesthem—”
“Idonot!”Gabbycried,faux-outraged.“Imean,okay,Ido.Butactually,theHarvestPrincessthingisprettycool.Ifyou
getpicked—”
“Bigif,”Estherinterrupted.
“Yes,okay,if.Butifyougetpicked,yougetfreeticketstotheballandthepre-ballbanquetattheYachtClub.Andyougetscholarship
moneytocollegeandstuff.Theonlyproblemis,moregirlssignedupthanthereareplacesavailable.Therearetwelveof
usandMrs.Hopkinssaystheyonlyhaveroomforninegirls—”
“AndoneofthegirlswhosigneduphappenstobeMrs.Hopkins’sdaughter,”Estherinterruptedagain.
“Thatdoesn’tnecessarilymeanLizzie’sgoingtogetselected,”Gabbysaiddefensively.“Therearealotofconditions.LikeIknowforafactatleastoneofthegirlsisn’tgoingtomakethecutbasedonherGPAalone.AndifyoucounthavingtobecomfortableconversingwithstrangersandbeingfreeallweekendsoyoucangotoalltheTricentennialeventsinthetownsquare,thateliminatesatleastoneoftheothersbecausesheworksatDairyQueenanddoesn’thaveanyoneyettocoverhershift.”
“Right.ButLizzieWalker-Hopkins’smotherisrunningthewholething,soshe’smorethanlikelygoingtogetpicked—”
“Notthewholething.There’ssomeoneelse.He’scomingonWednesdayfromNewYorkCityforthefinaljudging.”
“That’smyproblemwithit.”EstherleanedforwardsothatshecouldspeaktoDerrickandmemoreintimately,eventhough
Derrickwastakingcarenottocontributetotheconversationatall.Insteadhekepthisgazestraightaheadaswewound
ourwaydownthenight-darkenedcoastalroadtowardthegirls’homes.“ImeanasidefromthefactthatIthinkwiththings
likethis,whogetsselectedisalwaysbasedonlooks—”
“Notalways,”Gabbyinsisted.
“Okay,andI’mnotsayingIdon’tthinkyou’rebeautiful,Gabs,youknowIdo.Butthenwhydotheprincesseshavetowear
ballgowns?”
“Becauseit’sfortheTricentennialBall.”
“Thenwhycan’ttheywearsuits?Ms.Goldcarriesthatwholelineofeveningtuxedosforwomen.”
Ibrightenedatthis.“Thanks,”Isaid.“Ido.AndI’dbehappytofindoneforyou,Gabriella.ButpleasecallmeJessica.”
“Thanks,Iknow,Iloveyoursuits,Jessica,”Gabbysaid.“ButIwantagown.Ican’treallyaffordonefromEnchantments,
though.MymomsaidifIwanttodothisprincessthing,Ihavetopayforitmyself,andIdon’thaveacreditcard.”
Iconsideredthis.IwascertainIhadtheperfectgownforher.
“Howaboutifweworkedoutapaymentplan?”Iasked.“Youcouldpaymeininstallments,eitherwithcashorbyhelpingoutintheshop.”
Gabriellaletoutagasp.“CouldIreally?Iwouldlovethat!”
“Ofcourse.Weneedthehelp.What’syourweekendandafter-schoolschedulelike?”
“She’sfree,”Esthersaiddrily.“That’swhyshesigneduptobeaSacrificialPrincess.”
Gabbyplayfullystruckherfriendinthearm.“Stop!You’remakingmesoundlikealoser.”
“Sorry.”Estherdidn’tsoundparticularlysorry,however.“It’snotthatI’magainstthewholething.Ijusthavequestions
Idon’tfeelhavebeenadequatelyaddressed.LikewhatkindofguywouldtakethetimetocomeallthewaytoWestHarbor
fromNewYorkCityjusttocrownabunchofgirlsHarvestPrincesses?Unlesshe’sgotalineofcosmeticshewantsyouto
endorse,orsomething,Ifeellikehehastobeaperv.”
IdidmybestnottolookatDerrick,who’dcomeallthewaytoWestHarborfromMontanatodosomethingextremelysimilar.
“He’snotaperv,Esther!”GabbyinsistedwhileWilla,sittinginherlap,whimperedalittle.Sheeithersensedthehostility
radiatingfromPye,inherboxonmylap,orthatwewerenearingherhouse.Itwashardtotell.“Mrs.Hopkinssayshe’s
averyimportantacademic,publishedauthor,andhistorian.”
“Ugh,that’ssogross,”Estherasked.“What’sapublishedauthordoing,judgingabeautycontest?WhenarewegoingtofindouthisnamesothatIcanresearchhimandmakesurehedoesn’t
haveacriminalrecord?”
“OhmyGod.”Gabbyrolledhereyes.“Herewegoagain.”
“YouknowIloveyouandsupportyounomatterwhat,Gabs.Ijustworrythatyou’regoingtogetemotionallyinvestedinthis
andit’snotgoingtoturnoutthewayyouhope.”
“Justsayit:youdon’tthinkI’mgoingtogetpicked.”
“Actually,Ithinkyouaregoingtogetpicked,andsomethingworseisgoingtohappen.”
“Likewhat?They’regoingtopourpigbloodonmewhileI’monstage?”
“No.Likethisauthorguyisgoingtoturnouttobeavampirewhofeastsonvirgins,orsomething.”
IthrewDerrickaknowinglook.Vampires?See?Iwantedtoscreamathim.Iwasn’ttheonlyonewhothoughtvampiresmightbeshowingupinthistowneventually.
ButDerrickignoredbothmylookandEsther’svampirecomment,sayingonly,“Oh,look,”inamildtoneasheslowedthecar
toastop.Itwasthefirsttimehe’dspokensincegettingintothevehicle.“We’rehere.”
Iglancedatthehousewe’dpulledupinfrontof.Onlyafewblocksoverfrommyown,itwasnearlytwiceaslarge.Newconstruction
thatstraddledtwolots,Esther’shousehadawidewraparoundporch,afour-cargarage,nolessthanthreejack-o’-lanterns
grinningmaniacallydownatusfromthefrontporch,eachwithaflickeringcandleinside,andasmallsignattheendof
thedrivewaythatsaidThisHomeProtectedbyAlarmSafe.Everylightinthehouseseemedtobeon.
“Thanksfortheride,”Gabbysaid,brightly,herargumentwithEsthercompletelyforgotten.“Youcanletmeouthere,too.
Ilivenextdoor,butwe’regoingtodoourSpanishhomeworktogether.”
“Areyourparentshome?”Derrickaskedquickly.
“Yeah.”Estherundidherseatbelt.“Mylittlebrotherfinishessoccerpracticeaboutnow,sowealleatdinnertogetherlate.”
“Good,”hesaid.“Goinsideandtellyourparentstosettheirhomealarm.Anddon’tgooutagainuntildaylight.”
“Becauseofthewolf?”sheasked,lookingthrilled.
“BecauseHalloweenisonFriday.Youneverknowwhatmightbeoutthere,lurkinginthedark.”
“Cool.”Esthersoundeddelighted.“I’lltextyouaboutmeetinguplaterformentorstuff,okay,Ms.Gold?”
“Jessica,”Icorrectedher.“Andsure,thatwouldbegreat.Gabby,getmynumberfromEsther,too,sowecansetupatime
foryoutocomeinandtryonadressandfigureoutaworkschedule.”
“Oh,mygosh,thankyousomuch,Ms.Gold!”Gabbygushed.
BothgirlsandthedogleapedfromthecarasDerricksaid,“Goodnight—andbesafe!”
“Wewill!”theycried,andracedhandinhandupthelawntothehome’sfrontporch.
“Spanishhomework,”Derricksaid,aswewatchedthemdisappearintothehouse.“Sothat’swhatthekidsarecallingsexthese
days.”
Igrinned.“Yougotthatfeeling,too,huh?”
“They’relikeanoldmarriedcouple.”
“Butmoreattentivetooneanother’sfeelings.WhatdoyouthinkaboutEsther?Youagreeshe’stheOne,right?”
“No.”
WhenIthrewastartledglanceinhisdirection,speechlesswithastonishment,Isawthathewasn’tevenlookingatme.He
wasconcentratingonnavigatingthenight-darkroad.
“You’retheOne,”hewenton,hisgazestillontheroad.“EstheristheBringerofLight.”Ifeltmyshoulders,whichhadtensed
upathisNo,relax.“I’mheretosupportandprotectyou.Ifyouthinkit’sher,thenit’sher.ButIwillsay”—myshoulderstensedup
again—“fromthemomentImether,she’sshownthesamekindofcalmpresenceI’veseeninpreviousBringersofLightI’ve
encountered.Shewasn’ttheleastbitconcernedaboutthewolf.Moredelighted,really.”
Ifeltmyshouldersrelaxagain.NotthatIneededhisapproval.Butitwasalwaysnicetoknowyourcoworkershadyourback.
“AnddoyouthinkEsther’sright?”Iasked.“Aboutthisguywho’scomingintojudgetheHarvestPrincessespossiblybeing
avampire?”
“No,becausethere’snosuchthingasvampires.”
“Oh,okay.Sodemonsexist,butnotvampires?”
“Ofcoursedemonsexist.I’veseenthem.Itoldyou:they’rethetorturedsoulsofthoselookingtorightwhattheyseeas
theirunjustdeath.ButI’veneverseenavampire.IthinktheyweremadeupbyoldEasternEuropeangranniestofrighten
childrenintoeatingtheirgarlic.”
Irolledmyeyes.“Okay.”I’dneverencounteredavampirebefore,either,andGoodyFletchermadenomentionoftheminher
book.Butshehadplentytosayaboutevilspiritsanddemons.“Sothere’snosignificancetothefactthatRosalieHopkins
islookingfornineHarvestPrincesses,andnineissuchapowerfulnumberinthewitchingworld?”
HeraisedhiseyebrowsashepulledawayfromtheDodgehome.“Whatareyousuggesting?”
“Well,couldEstherberight?Maybenotaboutthejudgeforthecontestbeingavampirebut…isRosalieuptosomething?
Couldsheeven—Idon’tknow—knowabouttheprophecy,andbetryingtofindtheBringerofLightherself?”
Hewasshakinghisheadbeforethewordswerefullyoutofmymouth.“No.Absolutelynot.”
“Whynot?She’sacouncilmemberoftheWorldCouncilofWitches.Whywouldn’tshehaveheardaboutit?”
“Becauseevenifshedid,herresearchwouldhaveledhertothesameconclusionminedid:thatyou’retheChosenOne.”
“Yeah,researchwasneverRosalie’sforteinschool.AndIdon’tthinkshe’dlikeitifshefoundoutIwaschosenforanythingandshewasn’t.Butitwouldn’tbetheworstthingifshewaslookingfortheBringerofLight,too,wouldit?We’reallonthesameside.”Whenhedidn’tsayanythingrightaway,Iproddedhimintheshoulder.“Aren’twe?”
“Weare.”Hedidn’ttakehisgazeofftheroad,butIhadafeelinghewasn’treallyseeingit.“Ofcourseweare.Butit
doesn’tmatterwhatRosaliewants.”Thatwaswhenhefinallyturnedtolookatme,andIsawthatthemuscleinhisjawwas
leaping.“OnlyyouandtheBringerofLightcanstopwhat’scoming.Doyouunderstand?”
“Yeah,aboutthat,I’vebeenmeaningtoaskyou.Howarewesupposedtodothat?Didyoubringalonganyweaponsweshould
betrainingtouseagainstthesedemons,stakesorcrossbowsoranything?Becauseit’sgettingkindoflatetoordersome.
IguesswecouldtryWalkerHardwaretomorrow,butIdon’tknowiftheyevencarry—”
“Allyouneedareyourselves.”Heturnedhisfacebacktowardtheroad,hislipspressedtogether,hisexpressiongrim.“Together,
youandEstheraretheweapons.That’swhyIcan’timaginethatRosalie,evenifsheknewaboutanyofthis,whichIdoubt,wouldbethinking
aboutselectinganotherBringerofLight.Ifanyoneelseweretoattemptit,itwouldendin…”
“What?Itwillendinwhat?”
“Exactlywhatwe’retryingtostop.”
“Oh.Great.Sotheendoftheworld.”
“Nottheworld,”hesaid.“Just—”
“WestHarbor,”Isaid,atthesametimehesaidit.“Iknow,Iknow,youdon’thavetokeeptellingme.Sowastherereally
awolf?”
“Awolf,orareallybigdogthatlookedjustlikeone.”
“Damn.Youknow,MarkGiovannisaidhesawonewhilehewasoutjoggingafewweeksago.”
Derrickthrewmeanincredulouslook.“Whydidn’tyoutellme?”
“Becausetherehasn’tbeenawolfsightedinConnecticutinthreehundredyears!”
“Exactly,”hesaid.“AndyetjustintimefortheTricentennial,onemakesareappearance.”
“Whatdoesthatevenmean?”
“Idon’tknow,”hesaid,tighteninghisgriponthewheel.“ButIintendtofindout.”Jessica
Toenhancethybeautyinhiseyes,servehimgarlic.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
Walkingaroundtraintracksinthesemidarkness,lookingforwolves,wasnotmyideaofafunnightout.
ButwhenDerrickremindedmeofthewindowinmyofficethatwasstuckopen—theonePyeusedtogetinandoutofmyshop—and
howmuchacatwouldlooklikepreytoawolf,Iagreedtoashortwalkalongthetracks.
NotthatIthoughtPyewasinanyactualdanger,especiallygiventhathewascurrentlytrappedinaboxinDerrick’srental
car.Ididn’tbelievetherewasawolf,andiftherewas,IknewPyecouldtakecareofhimself.I’donceseenhimdefend
himselfagainstanentirepackofraccoons.
Butitneverhurttobesure.
Fortunatelytherewasnosignofwolfpawprints,somethingDerrickwasapparentlyanexpertin.
“Soareyougoingtocallthem?”IaskedhimasIusedtheflashlightonmyphonetopickmywaythroughtherocksandweedsbacktowherehe’dparkedattheWestHarbortrainstation(designedtolooklikeaquaintColonialfarmhouse,eventhoughthousandsofcommutersusediteverydaytogettoandfromthecity).
“Callwho?”
“Yoursupervisors,orwhoever,andtellthemaboutthewolf,andRosalieandtheHarvestPrincessthing.”
“Oh.”Hewasusingtheflashlightonhisownphonetoscanthebrushontheothersideofthetracks.Hehadn’tsaidwhat,
exactly,weweregoingtodoifwefoundthewolf.CallAnimalControl?Castaspelloverit?Unclear
Whatwasclear,however,wasthathewasstickingclosetomysideincasethewolfdidreappear.Thatkindofold-fashioned
chivalrywasdefinitelysomethingthathadbeenlackingintheguysI’dmetlatelythroughdatingapps.
“Imight.ButIthinkEstherisrightabouttheHarvestPrincess.It’sonlyabeautypageant,”hecontinued.“Harmless.”
WhenIsnortedinresponse,heglancedmyway.“YouthinkI’mwrong?”
“Beautypageantsareneverharmless—especiallyabeautypageantrunbyRosalieHopkins.Freecookiesaside,Ithinkshe’s
uptosomething.”
“Thetimingisalittleconcerning,”heagreed,“especiallywithitbeingthesamenightastheHunter’sMoon.”
Ishiveredinvoluntarily.“Wouldyoupleasestopcallingitthat?”
“Why?That’swhatit’scalled.TheHunter’sMoonsymbolizesabundance—atimewhenpeoplecelebratetheharvestandallthey’ve
reapedastheyprepareforthechangethat’s—”
“Okay,nowyou’rejustcreepingmeout.”
“Howcanthatcreepyouout?You’reawitch.”
“I’macottagewitch,”Iremindedhim.“Imakethingslooknicer,andpeoplefeelbetteraboutthemselves.Idon’tmessaroundwithreapings…
orwolves.”
“Ithinkyouunderestimateyourself.”
Eventhoughitwassodark,Isawhiseyesflashatme—justforamoment—almostasintenselyasthefewstarsthatwerewinking
above.
Thenhesaid,“Watchoutforthatgravelthere,”andreachedouttotakemywristandguidemeoverthedeadlygravel.“I
wouldn’twantyoutoturnanankleinthoseboots.”
“Yeah,thanks.”MyvoicewasasunsteadyasmyfeetsinceIwasstillabitshakenbythecompliment—andthezing!ofmyheartstringsatthefeelofhisfingers,thoughthistimehewastouchingmethroughthefabricofmycoat,andIknew
thesensationwasallinmyhead.“Nexttimewegotrackingawildanimal,I’lltrytodressmoreappropriately.”
“Atleastdon’twearsuchhighheels.Youknow,Idon’tthinkwe’regoingtofindanythingouthere.”Derricklookedoutacross
thedarknesssurroundingthetraintracksandheavedasigh.Thetemperaturehadfallensincethesunhadset,sohisbreath
foggedupinfrontofhim.“Weshouldprobablycallitanightandheadhome.”
“Soundsgoodtome,”Isaid.I’dbeenyearningforahotshowerandaglassofwineforhours.Andmaybealittlesomething
more.“Doyouwanttostopforsomethingtoeatalongtheway?MyfriendDinaaskedustojoinherandherboyfriend,Mark,
athisfamily’srestaurant.”
WhatDina’smostrecenttexthadactuallysaidwas:
LegalBeagle:Getoverhere!Thespecialtonightisbranzino.It’ssellingoutfast,butMarksayshecanholdsomeforyouandyourfake
boyfriendifyoucangetherebynine.
“Notsuregoingoutisthebestidea,”hesaid.“Especiallygiventhatyourcatisinaboxonmyfrontseat.”
“Yeah,you’reright.”
Hmmm.WashereallyworriedaboutPye,orwasthisasexinvite?IthadbeenalongtimesinceI’dmadeittothesexstage
ofarelationshipwithaguy.Usuallywedidn’tmakeitpastGettingtoKnowYoucoffeesbecauseitbecamesoglaringlyobvious
oneofushadliedonourdatingprofiles(Me.Alwaysme.Aboutnotbeingawitch).
“IhavesomelasagnaIcanheatup,”Ioffered.“FromSundaynight.MamaGiovannialwaysmakessureIgohomewithsome,in
additiontohergravy.”
“Thatsoundsgood,”hesaid.
Yes,itdid.Itdidsoundgood.Sodidtheideaofthoselipsandfingersofhisonmynakedbody.
Whichwashowwefoundourselvesalittlewhilelaterbackatmyplace,aftermehavingtextedDinaback:
Nixthebranzino.FakeBFwantstostayin.
HerreplywasclassicDina:
LegalBeagle:Wooo,girl!Ridethatbikerboy!
Theworldworksinfunnyways.IfyouhadtoldmeaweekagothatI’dbegettingdinnerreadyformyselfandmyfakewitch
boyfriend,I’dhavefallenoverlaughing.
ButhereIwas,theheightofdomesticity,givingDerrickatouroftheupstairsofmyhouseasMamaGiovanni’slasagnawarmed
upintheoven(Isaid“theheightofdomesticity.”JustbecauseI’macottagewitchdoesn’tmeanIcanactuallycook).
“Sothisismyparents’oldbedroom,”Isaid,flickingonthelight.“You’rewelcometostayinhere,butyoumightfinditalittle…crowded.”
That’sbecauseeventhoughthesecond-floorbedroomwashuge,I’dconverteditinsteadtoasewingroom,sincethethought
ofbangingguysinmyparents’bedroomwasdeeplyunsexy.
Now,inadditiontothefloor-to-ceilingshelveswheremydadhadoncekeptallhisnonfictionWorldWarIIbooks,andon
whichInowstoredcontainersofallmybestbuttons,lace,elastic,ribbon,andthread,theroomcontainedmysewingmachine
andahalfdozendressmaker’sdummies,eachgarbedinanearlyfinishedgownthatIintendedtodelivertoitsownersometime
thisweek.
“Thesofafoldsoutintoabed,”Isaid,asDerrickstaredskepticallyintothechaoticseaofpalepinks,purples,andblack
sequins.“It’sreallycomfortable.Isleeponitwhenmyparentscomebacktotowntovisit.”
“Thanks,”hesaid,lookingdubious.“Butthecouchdownstairsisfine—”
Ouch.IcouldseeI’dmadeastrategicerrorbyshowinghimthisroomfirst.ButIhadn’twantedtoseemtooeager.
“Orthere’smybrother’sroom.”Iledhimacrossthehall,Pyefollowingatourheels,becauseDerrickwashisnewfavorite
person.
ThiswasnotonlybecauseI’dthrownhimintoaboxtotransporthimhome,butbecauseI’dalsolockedhiscatdoorsothat
hewasnowtrappedinsideforthenight.AlthoughIdoubtedtheexistenceofthewolf,andtrustedPyetowininabattle
withitifitturnedoutIwaswrong,Iwasn’tgoingtoriskit.
IthrewopenthedoortoEthan’sroom.“Mylittlebrother’singradschooloverseasanddoesn’treallyhaveanywheretostore
hisoldstuff,soItoldhimI’llholdontoituntilhelandssomewherepermanently.”
DerrickglancedappraisinglyatEthan’soldsoccertrophiesandplaidwallpaper.“I’llleavemythingshere,”hesaid,andslunghisduffelbagdownontothesingletwinbed.“ButI’llstillprobablysleeponthecouchdownstairs.ThatwayIcankeepaneyeonthedoors.”
“Ihardlythinkthat’snecessary,butokay.”IwastryingnottoshowhownervousIwasthathewasstandingsonearthedoor
totheoneroominthehouseIhadn’tshownhim—mybedroom.
Itwasn’tlikeIhadn’tentertainedothermaleguestsintherebefore.Butnoneofthemhadevercarriedmeovermythreshold
becausemykneehurt,orcuredthathurtwithhistouch.
Andhe’djustannouncedhe’dbesleepingonthecouch.
Whichwasfine,justfine.Iwasn’tatallstressedbythatfact,orthefactthatDinakepttexting,alongwithvariousfruit-
andvegetable-shapedemojis:
LegalBeagle:Anyactionyet????
WhydidIhavesuchnoseyfriends?
“Well,I’msureyou’llwanttogetwashedupbeforedinner,”Isaid,showinghimtheJackandJillbathroomI’dbattledover
mywholelifewithmybrother,andthat,sinceInowownedit,I’dhadrenovatedintoaluxuriousspacompletewitharainfall
showerhead.
Derrickdidn’tlooktheleastimpressedbymynewlyinstalledradiantfloorheatingorsubwaytile,however.Heonlysaid,
“Thanks,”anddisappearedintoEthan’sroom,closingthedoorbehindhim.
Okay,then.
Bythetimehereappeareddownstairs,Iwasinmybestsilkpajamasetandkimono,havinghadmyownquickshowerinmyparents’oldbathroom.I’dalsosetthediningtablewiththeLimogesdinnerwaremymotherhadleftbehind,litthecandlesinthesilvercandlesticksmygreat-auntRuthhadbequeathedme,putaNinaSimonerecordonmyfather’svintageturntable,andreappliedmylipglosshalfadozentimes.
WhenDerricksawthis,helookedstunned—thoughIwasn’tsureifitwasbecauseofmyincrediblyshinylipsortheromantic
tablescapeI’dcreated.
“What’sallthis?”heasked.
“Dinner.”ImadethesamemotionwithmyhandthatVannaWhitemadewhensheturnedoverthelettersonWheelofFortune.Iwasn’tsureifIwasshowingoffthetableormyself.Eitherway,Derricklookedimpressed.
“Youdidn’thavetogotoallthistrouble.”
“Itwasn’tanytroubleatall.”Ialwayseatoffof24karatgold-trimmedvintageplatesfromFrancethatyouhavetowash
byhand.“Didyoufindeverythingyouneededupthere?”
“Idid,thanks.”
Hecertainlylookedasifhehad.He’dchangedoutofhisblackjeansandhenleyinto…anotherpairofblackjeansand
henley.Butthese,justlikethelast,fithimlikeaglove.
“Wouldyoulikeacocktail?”Iasked,inahuskiervoicethanIintendedto.Iclearedit.God,Isuckedatseduction.“Wine?
Beer?”
“WhatI’dreallylikeistogetalookatyoursecuritysystem.”
“Securitysystem?”
Theexpressiononhisfacemighthavebeenasmile,ifheeversmiled.“Iknow.Whywouldyouhaveasecuritysystem?People
inthistowndon’tbotherlockingtheirdoors.ButIthoughtI’dask.”
“Itoldyou,there’snocrimeinWestHarbor—exceptfortheusualstuffinthesummer,kidsdrinkingonthebeachandbreaking
intovacanthomes.Thatkindofthing.”
“Jessica.Youliveablockfromthebeach.”
“Yes,butmyhome’snotvacant.AndIdolockmydoors.Ievensprinkledsaltacrossmythreshold,likeanydecentwitch—”
“Whataboutprotectionagainstnonsupernaturalentities?”
“Whowouldwanttobreakinhere?Idon’thaveanythingworthstealing.”NoonewantsLimogesanymore.Great-AuntRuth’scandlesticks,
maybe.
“Whataboutthebook?”heasked.
“Whatbook?”
“Theonewrittenbythelocalwoman.Thegrimoirethelovespellcamefrom.”
“Oh,thatbook.Don’tworry,Ikeepitinasafespace.Noonewilleverfindit.”
NowMarkwastextingmeaswellasDina:
Scungilli:Useprotection!Youdon’tknowwherethatfilthywarlockhasbeen!
“Besides,Idon’tknowthatGoodyFletcherwasalocalwoman.”Ireallyneededtoswitchoffmyphone.“Mymomboughther
bookatanestatesaleinEastHarbor,butwhoknowswhereitwasfromoriginally.”
LegalBeagle:Mark,howmanytimesdowehavetotellyouthatthetermwitchisgenderneutral?
Scungilli:YoubetterhopeforJess’ssakehe’snotgenderneutral.
“Haveyoueverresearchedher?”Derrickasked.
“No,Ineverbothered.Recordsfromthattimeperiodareimpossibletofind.Therewasafloodthatdestroyedmostofthe
townrecords—”
“Yes,Iknow,intheearlyeighteenthcentury.Thentherewasthefirethattookoutmostofthetownintheearlynineteenthcentury.AndI’mnotevengoingtomentionthesmallpoxepidemicintheseventeenthcentury,ortheinfluenzathatwipedouthalfthepopulationjustaftertheFirstWorldWar—”
IhesitatedasIheadedforthewinerefrigerator.“Whatareyousaying?Youdon’tthink—”
“ThateveryninetyyearsorsosinceitwassettledbyEuropeans,adisasterofepicproportionsbefallsWestHarbor?Yes,
Ido.Andit’soverdueforanotherone,unlessyouandEsthercanstopit.”
Butifthatwastrue,didthatmeantherifthadnothingtodowithme?Whataboutallofthosepeoplewho’dnearlyfrozen
todeathoutontheinterstateduringtheblizzardRosaliehadsummoned?
Pop!I’dbeentuggingonthecorkofabottleofpinotnoir,andstartledmyselfwhenitsuddenlycamefree.
“Butwhy?”Iasked,tryingtosoundcasual.“WhatdidWestHarbor’searlysettlersdotoputacurseonthetown?”Ipoured
twoglassesofwine.“Ifit’sbecausetheyslaughteredorenslavedNativeAmericans,lotsoftownsinNewEnglanddidthat.
Whyaren’tHartfordorGreenwichfacingasupernaturalthreat?”
“Howdoyouknowtheyaren’t?”
ThankstothewallI’dhadremoved,Ihadaperfectviewofhimfrommykitchen,prowlingaroundthelivinganddiningrooms,
goinguptoeachofmywindowsandmakingsuretheywerecompletelyclosed,thelockssecured.Whathedidn’tknow,ofcourse,
wasthathalfthewindowsdidn’topenatall.Theframesweresoold,Icouldn’tfindacarpenterwhoknewhowtofixthem.
“Well,obviouslyIdon’tknow.ButIthinkI’dhaveheardaboutit.”
“Why?YouneverheardaboutthisoneuntilItoldyou.”
“Yeah…youhaveapoint.”
Anothertext:
LegalBeagle:WTH,Jess,whyamIonlyhearingjustnowfrommybrotherthatyourcargotdestroyedbyhailathisschooltoday,andtowed
awaybyHopkinsMotors?
Scungilli:Jess,didyoumakeacertainsomeonemadagain?
Itextedback:
Can’ttalkrightnow.I’llcallyoulater.
LegalBeagle:Jess,Idon’tlikethis.Whatdoyouknowaboutthisguy?Whoisheevenworkingfor?
Scungilli:Yeah,atleastbeforeheshowedup,Rosaliewasn’tactivelytryingtokillyou.
“Isthisusable,oristhatwoodpileoutsidejustforshow?”Derrickwaskneelingdowninfrontofmyfireplaceandlooking
uptheflue.
IcrossedintothelivingroomholdingboththeglassesofwineI’dpoured.“Yes,ofcoursethefireplaceworks.Why?Don’t
tellmeyouthinkademonisgoingtocomeflyingdownthechimney.”
“No,”hesaid,andbegantopushuphissleeves—enoughtorevealthathehadatattooontheinsideofhisrightforearm,
butnotenoughsothatIcouldseewhatitwas.“It’scoldoutside.IthoughtImightbuildafire.”
DrinksinfrontofacracklingfirewithDerrickWinters?Thiswasbetterthananythingthathadeverhappenedinmybedroom—betterthananythingI’deverfantasizedabouthappeningthere.
Evenifmyfriendsmightnotbeparticularlythrilledwiththeidea.
“Bemyguest,”Isaid,tryingmybesttosoundcasualasIhandedhimoneofthewineglasses.“Redokay?”
“Yeah,thanks.”
“Well,then.”Iraisedmyglass,stilltryingtocontrolmyfacialmuscles.Becool.Donotsmiletoomuch.“TotheBringerofLight.”
Heclinkedhisglasstomine.“MayherSpanishhomeworkgowell.”
Dammit.Inotonlysmiled,Ilaughed.“Cheers.”
Derrick
Witchesvalueconsensualsexaspleasure,oneofthesourcesofenergiesusedinthepracticeofmagic,andtheembodiment
oflife.
RuleNumberFiveoftheNineRules
*WorldCouncilofWitches*
Forasecond,Derrick’sgazemethersabovetherimoftheirwineglasses.Hewasstruck,onceagain,byhereyes—twinwells
intowhichhefelthecouldfallandlosehimselfforever.
He’dbehappytospendtherestofhisdaysswimminginthosewarmdarkpools,andlivinginthiswarm,clutteredhouse.He
hadneverbeeninaplacethatfeltmorecolorful,morecomfortable,morehome.Hewasn’tsureifitwasthehouseitselforJessica,inherbody-skimming,shimmeringsilkrobe,withherlaughingmouth
anddampblackcurlshangingdownhershoulders,thatmadehimfeelsorelaxed.Hewasn’tsureaboutanythinganymore.
Whatwasheevendoinghere?He’dbeentoldtoprotecther,notmoveinwithher,andcertainlynotsleepwithher.Washe
goingtobeabletostophimself?
Notifshekeptlookingathimthatway.
Whenthefirstsideoftherecordshe’dputoncametoasuddenend,hebecamedisturbinglyawareofhowquietitwas.Herneighbors,heknewfromhisearlierresearch,weremostlyretireeswhowenttobedearly—butroseearly,aswell.Heimaginedthey’dhavepointedquestionsforhertomorrowmorningaboutthewhereaboutsofhercar—andtheowneroftheseverelydentedFiatparkedinherdriveway.
Bzzz.Theroomwassosilent,Derrickheardthephoneinthepocketofherrobealerthertoatext,eventhoughshe’dsetiton
vibrate.
“Doyouwanttocheckthat?”heaskedpolitely.
Shesmiledwidelyandtookanothersipofherwine.“It’sprobablynotimportant.”
“Whatifit’sEsther?”
Thesmiledisappeared.“Right.Ofcourse.”Shefishedthephonefromherpocket.
Derrick,tobecourteous,turnedtowardthefireplace,eventhoughheknewwhoitwas.Hehadn’tmeanttolookatherphone,
butshe’dleftitoutonthecounterearlier,andhehadn’tbeenabletokeepfromglancingatthescreenwhenitlitupwith
atextfromsomeonecalledScungillireferringtoa“filthywarlock,”andurginghertouseprotection.
Washethefilthywarlock?“Eavesdroppersgetwhattheydeserve,”hisfatheralwayssaid,andingeneralDerrickagreed.Butdid
Scungillimeanfilthyinagoodwayorabadway?
Itwasnatural,ofcourse,thatherfriendswouldbesuspiciousofhim.Hewassuspiciousofhimself.Howwashegoingtodohisjobwhenallhecouldthinkaboutwaswhatwasbehindtheonedoorinthehouseshehadn’topened
forhim…JessicaGold’sbed?
“Sorry,”shesaid,puttingherphoneawayagain.“Nothingimportant,justafriend.Doyoulikevinaigrette?Iwasgoingtowhiponeuptogowiththesalad.”
“Youreallydon’thavetogotoallthistroubleforme.”
“Oh,it’snotforyou.It’sforme.”Shesmiledagain,andbouncedawaytotheturntabletofliptherecordover.
Hepretendednottonoticethatshewasalsoquietlyansweringthetext.
“Aretheseyourparents?”heasked.He’dgotafirestarted,andhadbegunscanningherbookshelvesasshebusiedherself
inthekitchen.Nowheheldupaframedphotoas,ontherecordplayer,awomancroonedabouthowmuchshelovedherman.
“Yes,”Jessicasaid,glancingoverfromthekitchen.“That’smymomanddad’sweddingphoto.”
Hesquinteddownatthephoto.Itshowedadeliriouslyhappy-lookingdark-hairedcoupleinformalwear,standingunderaJewish
weddingcanopy.“Dotheyknow?”
“Knowwhat?”
“Aboutyoubeingawitch.”
“Oh,God,no.Doyours?”
“Yes,”hesaidshortly.Hewasn’tgoingtodiscussthat.Bettertokeepheronthesubjectofherownfamily.“Whyhaven’tyoutoldyours?Wouldtheybeupset?”
Jessicahadcomeoverfromthekitchentogazedownatthephotoinhishand.“Upset?No.Concerned?Yes.Myancestorsdid
alotofrunningbecauseoftheirbeliefs—fromtheCossacks,Nazis,Mussolini.Younameit.SoIguessI’drathersparemy
parentsfromanynewsthatmightmakethemfeellikeI’mgoingtohavetorunsomeday,too,likeourancestorshadto.What
aboutyourparents?Arethey—whatdidyoucallit?Magicallyinclined?”
“Moreorless.”Itwasdangeroustotalkabouthimself,soheturnedhisattentionbacktothephotosonthebookshelftodistracther—andhimself.Shewasstandingsoclosetohimthathecouldsmellthegrapefruit-scentedshampooshe’dusedonherhair.Hereachedquicklyforaphotoofanawkwardlytallboywearingagraduationgown.“Isthisyourbrother?Doesheknow?”
“Inevertoldhim,butIthinkhesuspects…something.”Hisstrategywasn’tworking,becauseshecameevencloser,grinningdownatthephotoandenvelopinghimwiththescent
ofcitrusandafeelingoflonging.“Whataboutyou?Anysiblings?”
Hedidn’tliketalkingabouthispast.Butbecauseitwasher,hegrudginglyadmitted,“Half-siblings.Weweren’traisedtogether.”
“Soyouwerebasicallyanonlychild.Thatmakesalotofsense.”
Heglancedatherasheputthephotoofherbrotherbackwherehe’dfoundit.Butglancingatherwasamistake,sinceit
onlycausedhimtonotice,onceagain,howkissableherlipslooked.“Why?”
“Onlychildrenoftenhavetomediatebetweentheirparents,smooththingsover,makethingsnice,takecareofthem.That’s
whatyoudo.”
Hewasastonishedbythisdescriptionofhimself.“No,Idon’t.”
“Yes,youdo.”Herlaughtertinkledlikethepianokeysinthemusicshe’dputon.Sheseemedtofindhisresponseveryamusing.
“WhataboutwhenyourushedofftosaveEstherfromthatwolf?OrwhatyoudidwhenRosalieattackedme,andIhurtmyknee
thisafternoon?”
“That’s—”Whatwassheeventalkingabout?It’struethathe’dneverlearnedtohandlecomplimentswell—possiblybecausehis
fatherhadhardlyevergiventhem,andhismotherhadrarelybeenaround.Butthiswasridiculous.“Anyonewouldhavedone
that.”
“No,theywouldn’t.”Shesmiledupathimwiththoseshininglips.“Yousaideverywitchisahealer—orhasthecapacitytobe,anyway.Well,you’resomethingmore.Ithinkyou’reacaretaker.”
“No,I’mnot.”
Whatwashappening?Thisconversationhadgottenwayofftrack.Hedesperatelyneededtosteerthesubjectawayfromhimself.
Healsoneededhertomoveawayfromhim,sinceshewasstandingfar,fartooclosetohim.Justtobeonthesafeside,he
sethiswineglassonthemantelandreachedforthefireplacepoker,keepinghishandsawayfromthetemptationofreaching
forher.
“Doyouthinkthefoodisready?”heasked,stirringuptheflames.Yes.Thiswasgood.Steertheconversationbacktodinner.
“Itsmellsgreat.”
“Ihavethetimeron,”shesaid.“Itwilldingwhenit’sready.So,isthereanyoneyou’recurrentlycaringfor?”
Hepausedinpokingthefire,notcertainheunderstoodher.“What?”
“Besidesme.Backathome.Doyouhaveanyonespecialwaitingforyoubackhome?”
“Notcurrently,no.”Hekepthisattentionresolutelyonthefire…whichwasdifficult,sinceshe’dtakenastepcloser
tohiminordertosetherwineglassonthemantelalongsidehis.
“Wow,”shesaid,withanotherpealofthatmusicallaughter.“Youreallydohatetalkingaboutyourself,don’tyou?”
Suddenlythefirefelttoohot.
Ormaybeitwasn’tthefire.Maybeitwasher.
“There’snothingaboutmethat’sveryinteresting,”hesaid.
“Nowyou’retheoneunderestimatingyourself.Whataboutwhatgotyouintothislineofwork?”Shelookedupathimthrough
herdarkeyelashes.“Thetown-savingbusiness.Ibetthat’saprettyinterestingstory.”
“It’snot,”hesaidquickly.“Trustme.”
Thiswasagony.Whyhadheagreedtothisjobinthefirstplace?Heshouldhavesaidnothesecondhe’dreadherbioandseenherphotos.Attheveryleast,heshouldhaveleftWestHarborthemomenthemetherandfelthermagneticpull….
Butthenwhowouldhavehelpedher?
Shereachedouttolayafingeronhischest.Justonefingertip,onthebarepatchofskinthatshowedthroughtheVofhis
shirt.
Itfeltlike…
Home.
“Ithinkthatmightbewhatyou’renotgetting,”shesaid,andthistimetherewasnolaughteratallinhervoice.There
wasasinceritythatcausedhisheart—thehearthe’dbeencertainforsomanyyearsdidn’texist—totwist.“Idotrustyou,
Derrick.”
Screwit.
Hetossedthefirepokeraside,pulledherroughlyintohisarms,andcoveredhermouthwithhis.Jessica
Awomanwhounderawaxingmoonfirstchoosestobed
Willsoonbehappy,healthy,wealthy,andwed.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
WasIsurprisedwhenDerrickWintersstartedkissingme?
No.
WasIhappyaboutit?
Yes.
It’swhatI’dbeenwillinghimtodoallevening.Icouldn’tunderstandwhyhewasn’treadingmysignals.Howmuchmoreobvious
didIhavetobe?
Butoncehefinallygotthemessage,hegotitgood
ForonceIwasgladthatallofmyneighborswenttobedrightafterJeopardy!They’dbeshockedenoughiftheyfoundoutIwasentertainingastrangemalewitchinthehouse.
They’dhavebeenevenmoreshockedifthey’dhappenedtolookthroughmylivingroomwindowsandseenwhathewasdoingto
me.
Andwhathewasdoingtomewasfilthy…whichwasexactlywhatIwanted.Nosoonerhadhepulledmybodytohisandbroughthislipsdownoverminethenhewasdraggingthosesamelipsalongthesideofmyneck,shovingawaythesilkofmykimonoinordertoexposethetenderskinjustabovemybreastsandthengreedilykissingthat,too,causingallthenerveendingsinmybodytodetonate.Mynipplesbecamehardasrocks,andheknewit.IknewheknewitbecauseIfeltasuddencorrespondinghardnessundertheflyofhisjeans.
Oh,yes.
Ifanyofmyneighborshadhappenedtobeoutpasttheirbedtimeswalkingtheirdogandglancedthroughmywindowatthatpoint,they’dhaveseenDerrick
tuggingatthebuttonsonthefrontofmypajamatopinordertogetatthosenipples.EagerasIwastohavehishandsand
lipsalloverme,Ihadtoobject.
“Dude,Ijustboughtthis,”Isaid.“Don’tripit.”
“Sorry,”hemuttered,buthewasn’tthatsorry.Iknowbecausehecouldn’tevenwaitformetotakeitoff.Hewasalready
reachingupbeneathmyshirtbeforeI’dgottenasinglebuttonundone.
Boom!That’swhattheeruptionfeltlikeinmyhead—andbetweenmylegs—whenhishandfoundmybreast.IfI’dthoughthiscallused
fingersonthebareskinofmykneethatafternoonhadfeltamazing,thatwasnothingcomparedtothesensationsthatcoursed
throughmewhenhiscallusedpalmclosedovermynipple.
Mykneesbuckled.Icouldn’tholdmyselfup.Thiswasafirstforme:I’veneverbeenbroughttomykneesbythetouchof
aman.
ButIdidn’tmind,andhedidn’tseemto,either.Alwaystheprotector,hehadanarmwrappedaroundmywaist,whichkept
mefromfallingtothefloor.Instead,hesankgentlywithme.ThankGodwewerenowbelowwindowpanelevel.
AndthankGodforthebluehand-knottedrugI’dboughtsomanyyearsagoandlaidinfrontofthefireplace.Ihadn’trealizedhowsoftthewoolwas—softenoughformypurposes,anyway.Andhis,too,itturnedout,whichappearedtobeleaningmybodybackandcaressingandkneadingandstrokingeveryinchofit,firstthroughmypajamas,andthen,quitesuddenly,withoutthem…thoughIhadnoideawherethey’dgone,orhowthey’dbeenremoved.
Iheartilyapprovedoftheirremoval,however,andshowedhimmyappreciationbytwiningmyfingersintohislong,thickhair
andbringinghismouthdownwherehishandhadbeensecondsbefore.
Foramomentortwo,IthoughtIwasgoingtopassoutfromthesensationofhistongueonmybarenipple.Idon’tthinkI’d
everfeltanythingsogoodasthatsearingheat…until,asecondlater,hisfingersdippedbetweenmylegs.
Idiedandwenttoheaven.
Okay,notreally.Butitfeltlikeit.Itfeltlikemybirthday,agiganticbagofHalloweenchocolates,andmyfirsttaste
oficecreamonahotsummer’sdayallrolledintoone.Onlybetter.
EspeciallywhenIliftedmyheadandsawthathisclothesweregone,too,andthatinthewarmgoldenglowofthefirelight
Icouldmakeouteverydetailofhisstrong,muscularbody,fromhislong,solidlegstothetattooI’dbeensocuriousabout
ontheinsideofhisrightarm.ItwasthesymbolofGaia,thesameoneweeachworearoundourneck.Onlytheoneonhis
armwasentwinedwithcolorfulflowers:abrightyellowdandelionforhealing,awhiteorchidforstrength,purpleperiwinkle
forprotection,silverrueforwitchcraft,anddeepredpoppiesforlove.
Nice.
Butthatwasn’tall.HischestwascoveredwithcrispgoldenhairthattapereddowntoaVwhere,ohmyGod,IverymuchapprovedofnotonlywhathehadgoingonwherethatVtaperedto,butalsowhatwashappeningaboveit,too,becauseinsteadoftheultraflatsix-packtoomanyoftheguysI’ddatedworkedoutfor,Derrickhadsomethingthathadbecomealltoorare:atinybelly.Notabeerbelly.Justasweetlittleledgeintheexactrightplacewhereawitchsuchasmyselfmightneedalittlefriction…
“Wait,”Isaidbreathlessly.Iwasstraddlinghim,myhairenvelopingbothourfacesinatentofdarkcurls.SuddenlyDina’s
textwaschiminginmybrainlikeanalarm.Whatdoyouknowaboutthisguy?“WehavetoshareourSTDstatuswithoneanother.”
“Isthatathingpeopledo?”Hiseyes,ashelookedupatme,hadtheglazedlookofamanjustwakingfromadream.
“Yes,God,wherehaveyoubeen?Anddon’tsay—”
“Montana.”HesaiditatthesametimeIdid.
“Idon’tcare.”Hiseyeswerethesamesilverycolorastheruetattooedonhisarm.Healing.Strength.Protection.Witchcraft.
Love.“Doyou?”
“No.”Ibentmyheadtolowermylipsdowntohis—butheputupbothhandstostopme,grippingmybareshoulders.
“Wait,”hesaid.Nowtheglazedlookwasgone.“Withhumansyounormallydouseprotection,though,right?Realprotection,notsaltlikeyouusewithyourhouse—?”
“Ofcoursenot!”Icouldn’tbelieveit.“Myhouseisjustahouse.Icangetanewoneanytime.Butwe’reonlygivenonebody.Iwouldnever—”
“Good.”Tomysurprise,heflippedmeoverontomyback,sothatsuddenlyIwastheonewiththesoftbluecarpetbeneath
me.
Butthiswasfine,becauseafewsecondslater,thatmouthofhishadsliddown…waydown,untilIfelthiswhiskeredcheeksbetweenmythighs.
AndifI’dthoughtthesensationofhislipsonmynipplehadfeltlikeheaven,well,thatwasnothingcomparedtowhatIfeltwhenhistonguebegantoexplorethesoftest—andnowwettest—partofme.Gasping,Igrippedtwinhandfulsoftherug,heatfromthefirebesideusandafireheseemedtobeignitingdeepinsidememakingmecertainmyheartwasabouttoburstintoflames.
Butwhatburstinsteadwasadamofpuresensualdelight.Itpouredovermelikeatidalwave,sweetandcooling…and
continuedtosweepmeupinitssoftbluepeaksasDerrickclungtomythighswithbothhislipsandhishands.
Itwasn’tuntilafewmomentslater,whenthetsunamihadreceded,thatIbecameconsciousofachiming.Itwasthefirst
timeamanI’dsleptwithhadrungmybellsohard,Icouldactuallyhearittollinginsidemyhead.
ThenIopenedmyeyesandsawhimlookingdownatmewithanamusedexpressiononhisface.
“Ithinkdinner’sready,”hesaid.“Thetimeronyourovenisgoingoff.”Jessica
MilkissacredtoGaia.LiketheMotherGoddess,milkcomfortsanditcalms.Drinkmilktosootheandtofallasleepatnight—but
usecaution.LikeGaia,milkcanalsoharm.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
WeateourlasagnafromcerealbowlsinfrontofthefireinsteadofontheLimogesplatesatthediningtable.
Itworkedoutgreat.Casualdiningnearlyalwaysdoes—especiallywhenyou’vealreadyseentheotherpersonnakedandmade
themorgasmabunchoftimes.
Andhonestly,mydiningroomchairsaren’treallythatcomfortableanyway.
Istillcouldn’tconvincehimtotellmewhoheactuallyworkedfor,though.Icouldbarelyevengethimtotellmewhathe
didforaliving.
“Sodoyougetpaidtodothis?”Iaskedhimmuchlater,asheclimbedintomybed.Yes,I’dluredhimintomybedroom.AllithadtakenwasanonchalantmentionthatIhadorderedoneofthosemattressesthatcameoutofabox,andthatitwasking-sizedandsupercomfortable,andthatheshouldtryit.
Hedid.
“Sleepwithwomen?”Hewassittingontheedgeofmynewmattress,givingitafewexperimentalbounces.Pyehad,ofcourse,
followedhimupthestairs,andnowsatontheedgeofthebedgivinghispawsawash.
“No.Traveltosmalltownstohelpsavethemfromdemonicruin.”
Thatactuallyearnedararelaughfromhim.“Oh.Sortof.”
Heevidentlylikedmybed,however,sinceheliftedhisfeetontoit,pulledmyduvetupoverhiswide,bareshoulders,and
sankhisheadintomypillows(indeferencetothepowerofnine,therewereexactlythatmanyofthem,eachofvaryingdegrees
offluff).
“Iagree,”hesaid,stiflingayawn.“Thisissurprisinglycomfortable.”
“Iknow,right?”Ilaydownbesidehim.I’dcompletelyredonemyroomfromwhenI’dbeenagirl,changingthepinktomuted
tonesofseafoamandgettingridofalltheFionaAppleposters.Itwasatempletoserenitynow.“Sodoyousortofgoaroundsavingsmalltownsfromdemonicruinfull-time?”
Myroomwassoserenenow,itapparentlyputmysexpartnersimmediatelytosleep—atleastthisone,who’dbeenwell-satiated
byme—sincehiseyeshaddriftedclosed.“Prettymuch,”hemurmured.
Iroseupononeelbowtojabafingerathisnakedchest.“Areyouserious?Whatareyou,somekindofparanormalhandyman?”
“Exactly.”Icouldn’ttellifhewaskidding,orevenifhewasawake.Hiseyeswerestillclosed.Thenherolledoveronto
hisside—beingcareful,Inoted,nottojostlePye,who’dpredictablycurledupathisfeet.“Lotstodotomorrow,”hemuttered.
“Seriously?”Isatup.Unlikehim,Iwaswide-awake.“Thisiswhatyoudoforaliving?Youtravelaroundtodifferenttowns,helpingthemoutofotherworldlyjams?”
Hemurmuredsomething.Itwashardtotellwhatbecausehisheadwasburiedinsomanypillows,andhewasdriftingoffto
dreamland.ButitsoundedtomelikeaYes
Icouldn’tbelieveit.“Andyougetpaidforit?”Whenhedidn’trespond,Inudgedhimintheshoulder.“Hey.I’maskingyouaquestion.Doyouseriouslygetpaid
forthis?Becauseifso,canIgetpaid,too?Ithinkit’sonlyfair,sinceI’mtheChosenOne.WhodoItalktoaboutthat?”
Buthewasoutlikealight.
WhichIguessIcouldunderstand,giventhathe’dspentthelastfewdayssleepinginhiscar,showeringatthegym,andattempting
toprotectmefrommalevolentattack.Iwasprettytiredmyselfand,knowingtomorrowIhadtofinishupthehemsofallthe
dressesIstillhadn’tdeliveredfortheball,plustrainEsthertobattletheforcesofevil,Icreptintothebathroomto
brushmyteeth,tryingnottowakehim.
Fortunatelymyphonewasstillonvibrate,sowhenDina’stextcame,hedidn’thearit.
LegalBeagle:MarkandIdrovebyyourhousetomakesureyouwereallrightandnoneofyourlightswereon.Areyouokay?Didthatguy
giveyouasleepingpotionandstealallyourstuff?
ThankGodthey’ddrivenbyafterDerrickandIhadmadelove—orpossiblyduring—orthey’dhavegottenquiteaneyefulthrough
thewindows.Iwroteback:
I’mfine!Wejustwenttobedearly.
Thiswasn’talie…exceptthebedpart.IwonderedifDerrickwouldwakeupwithrugburnsfromwhenI’dpinnedhimtothefloorandstraddledhim.
LegalBeagle:TOGETHER?????
Aftersendingmesomanyeggplantemojis,shewasshockedI’dactuallytakenheradvice?Itextedherseveraldevilfaceemojis
inreply.Sherespondedwithflaminghearts.
Grinningdownatmyphone,Icameoutofmybathroomtoasightthatstoppedmeinmytracks:anakedmansleepinginmybed,
myduvethalfon,halfoffhim,mycatcurledbetweenhislegs,purringlikemad.
Therereallywasn’tanythinghotterthanaguysleepingshirtlesswithacutecatcurledupnexttohim.
Exceptmaybeaguywhomadebreakfastthenextmorning.ThoughIwouldhaveappreciateditifhe’dwaitedafewhourslater
todoit.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Iasked,afterIwoketothesoundofmycoffeegrinderchurningandcamedownstairstofindhimin
blacksweatsandalow,messyponytailinmykitchen.
HebeamedatmelikeIwasthemostbeautifulsightintheworldinmybedhead,pajamas,androbe.“Makingcoffee.Wantsome?”
Ipointedtowardthewindows.“It’sstilldarkoutside.”
“It’smorning.Ithoughtyoumightwantsomebreakfast.”Hewasn’tonlymakingcoffee.Hewasmakingtoast,aswellasfrying
baconandeggs.ThesmellhadhitmeassoonasIstaggereddownthestairs.
“Iknowit’stechnicallymorning,”Isaid.“Anddon’tgetmewrong,I’mabigfanofbreakfast.”Iwasanevenbiggerfanofmenmakingbreakfastformeinmyownkitchenafterhavingdefiledmybodyhalfthenight,althoughtobehonestthiswasthefirsttimeithadeverhappened.“Butdon’tpeoplenormallyeatafterthesunrises?”
“Ijustwentforarun.”Hesmiled,pouredacupofcoffee,thenwalkedovertohandittome,slippingthemugintomyhand
andlandingakissonmycheek.“IputaNordicprotectionspellaroundthehousewhileIwasgone,though,soyouwerenever
indanger.”
“Oh,aNordicprotectionspell.ThankGod,youhadmeworried.”
Hissmilewidenedatmysarcasm.“Hungry?”
“Iam,”Iadmitted,thenputdownthecupandheadedstraightformyelectrickettle.“It’sjustthatInormallyeatata
morecivilizedhour.”
Helookedpuzzled.“What’samorecivilizedhour?”
“Afterthesunisup?”
Thesmiledisappeared,andhewentbacktolookinglikehisnormaldoom-foretellingself.Itwashardtobelievethatstern
facehadbeenburiedbetweenmylegslastnight,sendingmetotheheightsofecstasy.“Wecan’taffordsuchalatestart.”
“Oh,no.”I’dfilledtheelectrickettleandturnediton.“Don’ttellmethere’smorewolfhuntingontheagenda.”
“No.Buttherearealotofotherthingsweneedtogetdone.”
“Likewhat?Wecan’tpullEstheroutofschoolandstarttrainingherintheartoftheCraft,muchasshe’ddoubtlesslyenjoy
that.I’mprettysureherparentswouldobject.AndSal’snotexactlyabeliever,soheisn’tabouttowriteherapass.”
“Right.”Hetookjamandbutterfrommyrefrigeratorandsetthemoutonthepass-through.“Butbeforeweevengettothat,
weneedtosecurethisplace.”
“Secureit?YourNordicprotectionspellisn’tenough?”
Heignoredme.“Ihavetofixallofyourwindowssotheyactuallyopen,andinstallasecuritysystemthatworksagainsthumansaswellassupernaturalforces.”
Iblinkedathim.“Youwantthewindowstoopen?Ithoughtyouwereworriedaboutpeoplebreakingin.”
“Iam,butit’sjustasbigaproblemifyoucan’tgetout.Whatareyougoingtodoifthere’saflood?”
“Openthedoorandleavelikeanormalperson.”
“Andwhatifthedoorisblockedbydetritus?”
“CanwenottalkaboutdetritusbeforeI’vehadmymorningcaffeine?”Ipouredhotwaterfrommyelectrickettleintoateacup.
“It’sreallyadowner.”
“Youdon’tdrinkcoffee?”
“OfcourseIdo.Buteverycottagewitchknowsyou’resupposedtodrinkacupofEarlGreyteafirstthinginthemorning.”
Whenheonlylookedatmeblankly,Iexplained,“EarlGreyhasbergamotinit.BergamotisatypeoforangegrowninBergamo,
Italy,thatforcenturieshasbeenthoughttopromoteprosperityandsuccess.AndIthinkso,too,becauseeversinceIstarted
drinkingit,theshop’sdonereallywell.”Ipouredagenerousdollopofmilkintomytea,thentookabiggulp.“Maybeit
willhelpdefeatdemonicrifts,too.”
Derricklookedskepticallydownatthetea.“Ithinkyou’rewrong.”
“Aboutbergamothelpingtodefeatdemonicrifts?”
“No.”Heraisedhisgaze,andIwasunnervedalloveragainbyhowbrighthiseyeswere.“Ithinkyou’veearnedyoursuccess
throughhardworkandgoodchoices.”
Icouldhavearguedwithhimaboutthatone—BillyWalkerhadnotbeenagoodchoice.Butinstead,Islidontooneofthestoolsatthepass-throughandsaidonly,“Thanks.Youcouldberight.Ithinkluckhadalottodowithit,too,though.WhichiswhyIthinkyoushouldatleasttrythetea.Asidefromitsmagicproperties,bergamotisrichinflavonoids.”
“I’llstickwithcoffee,thanks.Hereyougo.”Heslidaplatedowninfrontofme.Itwaskindoflikesittingatthecounter
ofyourfavoritediner,onlythecookhadgivenyouabunchoforgasmsthenightbefore.
Irotatedtheplatetogetabetterlookatit,thengrinnedinspiteofmysleepiness.“Aw,didyoumakeaneggandbacon
smileyfaceallforme?”
“Yes.”Hedidn’treturnmygrin.Hesettledontohisownstoolacrossfrommine,withhisownplate,andbeganeatingvoraciously.
Pye,whosenormalmorningroutinewastodemandtobeletoutassoonasIwoke,satpatientlyathisfeet,gazingupathim
adoringlyandshowingnointerestatallingoingoutside—orinme.“AnotherthingI’dliketodotodayisgetalookatthat
book.”
“GoodyFletcher’sbook?”Itookabiteofbacon.ItwasexactlythewayIlikedit.Nottoocrispy,butnottoofloppy,either.
Thismanseemedtobeabletodoanything,includingcooktheperfectpieceofbacon.“Okay.Butwhy?I’vereaditsomany
timesIhaveitmemorizedbynow,andthereisn’tanythinginitaboutarift.Itreallyisjustacollectionofrecipesand
householdtips.”
“Evenso.WhydoyouthinkRosalieHopkinswantedtogetherhandsonitsobadly,backintheday?”
Ishrugged.“Asidefromthelovespell,whichdidn’tworkforeitherofus,shealwayshateditwhenanyonehadsomething
shedidn’t.Whichwasn’tthatoften,becauseherfamilyissowealthy.I’mnotsuresheeverevenlikedBillythatmuch.She
wasjustmadthatIhadhimandshedidn’t.”
“I’dstillliketotakealookatit.”
“Bemyguest,”Isaid.“It’sinthelivingroom.”
Heregardedmeoverhisnownearlyemptybreakfastplate,onegoldeneyebrowraised.“Thelivingroom?”
“Yes.Onthebookshelf.”
Hisothereyebrowrose.“Youtoldmeyouhaditinasafeplace.”
“Itisinasafeplace.Whowouldthinktolookforabooklikethatonabookshelf?Andeveniftheydid—”
“Jessica.It’sahandwrittenbookfromthesixteenhundreds.I’mnotsayingyouhaven’tdoneagreatjobkeepingitsafefor
alltheseyears,butI’msureit’sfairlyeasytofind.”
“Okay,”Isaid,scoopingupeggyolkwithmytoast.“Goaheadandlook.”
“Fine.”Herosefromthecounter.“Iwill.”
Iswiveledonmystooltowatchashecrossedthediningroomandthenwentintothelivingroomtolookforthebook.For
oncePye,perhapsknowingwhatwascoming,didn’tfollowhim,butstayednearme.Ilookeddownathimandwinked.Heslow
blinkedbackatme,asign,I’dread,thatcatsreciprocatedtheirowner’slove,andacceptedthemastheircatequal.
“It’sinhere?”Derrickwasstandinginfrontofmybookshelves,lookingupatmymanycookbooks,celebritymemoirs,books
onherbologyandtheCraft.
“Itsureis,”Isaid.
“Youhavealotofoldbooksinhere.”
“Well,myparentsdidownanantiquesshop.”
“Didtheyleavealotofbooksbehind?”
“No.Theseareallmine.”Despitetheearlyhourandseriousnessofthesituation,Iwasenjoyingmyself.“Why?IsonlyPlutarch
goodenoughforyou?”
“No,Ienjoyreadingawidevarietyofbooks,”hesaid,stillscanningtheshelves.“Ijustdon’tkeepthemaroundafterI’ve
finishedthem.”
“Oh,right,becauseyoutraveltoomuchforwork.Yourworkgoingaround,informingwitchesthattheirtownsareunderdemonicattack.”
Hegavemeasarcasticlook.Thenhereachedupandexpertlypulleddownalargebookcoveredinaluridblack-and-yellow
dustjacket.BestMoviesofthe1980s,1990s,and2000s,thedustjacketexclaimed.
“Watchout!”Icriedinalarmasheturnedthebooktowardhimandopenedit
Butitwastoolate.Athickcloudofblackpowdereruptedfrominsidethebook,coveringhischest,arms,andhands.
Icouldn’thelpit.Idissolvedinlaughter.
“Yeah,”Isaid,grabbingahandfulofnapkinsandthenhurryingovertohim.“IforgottomentionthatIdohaveasecurity
system.It’scalledmyexplodingincensepowderspell.”
HestoodperfectlystillasIdabbedathimwiththenapkins.Hewasn’tlaughingwithme,buthedidn’tlookupset,either.
“ItoldyouI’dfindit,”hesaid,stillholdingontoGoodyFletcher’sbook.
“Youdid.”Iwasblinkingbacktearsoflaughter.“Congratulations.Whatwasthetip-off?”
“Youhavealotofbooks,butyoudon’treallyseemlikethekindofpersonwho’dhangontoanoutdated‘bestof’movieguide.”
“You’rerightaboutthat.”
“Thatincensepowderdoesn’treallyseemtobecomingoff,doesit?”
“You’rerightaboutthat,too.”Buthedidn’tseemtomind.Infact,themoreIrubbedathim,themoreheseemedtolike
it.“Ithinkyou’regoingtoneedashower.”
“Yeah.Maybeyou’dliketojoinme?”
Ilookedupathim.Idon’tthinkI’veeverseenamoreintenselyglowingpairofeyes—oramoreinvitinglyupturnedmouth.
Soofcoursethat’swhentherewasaknockonthefrontdoor.
IfDerrickhadhadaweapon,Iswearhe’dhavewhippeditoutandleapedinfrontofmetodefendmefromwhateverdanger
heimaginedwasoutthereonmyporch—orwaskeepingusfrom“showering”together.
Butsincehedidn’thaveone,hesimplyusedhisbodytoshieldme.
“Areyouexpectinganyone?”heasked,thosegleamingeyesnarrowingdangerously.
“Atseveninthemorning?”Ihadtoadmit,myheartwashammering.MaybeIhadn’tquitefullyrecoveredfromyesterday’shailstorm.
“I’mnotabarbarian.”
ThenIheardDina’sfamiliar—andveryloud—voicecallfrombehindthedoor,“Jess?It’sme!Isawyourlightson.Whyaren’t
youansweringyourphone?”
IwasalreadyatthedoorandopeningitbeforeDerrickcouldmoveamuscle.
“Oh,hi,”shesaid,burstinginandnotevenpretendingtobesurprisedtoseemestandingthereinmypajamaswithDerrick
coveredinincensepowderrightbehindme.ShehelduptwolargecoffeesfromWakeUpWestHarbor.“Theseareforyoutwo.
Jess,whyaren’tyouansweringyourphone?”
“Becauseit’sseveninthemorning.Ihaven’tevenlookedatmyphoneyet.”
AlthoughMarkandDinawerebothearlyrisers—dogownersgenerallywere—theyknewthatswingingbymyhousewithcoffeebefore
eightinthemorningundernormalcircumstanceswaspointless,sinceIwouldn’tbeoutofbedbythen.
Buttheseweren’tnormalcircumstances.Sotheretheystood,withcarefullyneutrallooksontheirfaces,andsteaminghot
beveragesintheirhands.Mark,inhisblackleatherjacket,wasevenwavingaboxofpastries.
Allbecausetheywanteddirtonmyprivatelife.
Ormaybenot….
“Soyouhaven’theard?”Markasked.
“Heardwhat?”Iasked,despitemyownmisgivingsandthedisapprovalIcouldfeelradiatingoffDerrick.
Butitwastoolate.Dinahadalreadythrusthercoffeesatus,andMarkwashurryingintomykitchen.
“Therewasakingtidelastnight.”Dinacouldn’tspillthebeansfastenough.Shebegansheddinghercoatandscarf,throwing
herthingseverywhere,ashadbeenhercustomsinceweweretweens.“WaterwentallthewayuptothePostRoad.”Seeingmy
face,sheadded,“Don’tworry,itdidn’treachEnchantments.Itstoppedbeforeitgottodowntown.Butthere’sdriftwoodin
frontofthelibrary.”
Derrickwassoconcerned,hedidn’tevenseemtonoticethenewcoffeeinhishand.“Isawthattherewasseaweedandsand
ontheroadwhenIwentformyrunthismorning.ButIthoughtmaybethatwasnormalherethistimeofyear.”
“Yourun,bro?”Markcamebackfromthekitchen,anassortmentofpastrieslaidoutononeofmyplates.“Me,too.What’s
yourdaily?”
“Iliketogetinsixmiles,ifIcan,”Derrickreplied.
Markshookhishead.“Sixismurder,bro.Youspendthefirsttwogettingwarmedup,thenyoujustgetyourgroovegoing,
andyougottastartcoolingdown.Gottadoten.”
“Sixworksforme,”Derricksaid.
“Hi,weweren’tproperlyintroducedlastnightinallthefussoverthewolf.”Dinawalkedoverandheldherhandouttoward
Derrick.“I’mJess’sfriend,DinaDiAngelo.”
“Bestfriend,”Marksaid.“Don’tforget.Bestfriendsincemiddleschool.Getready,bro.Ifyoutelloneofthesewitchessomething,she’sgoingtotelltheotherone,
andviceversa.”
“Well,it’strue,”Dinasaid,asDerrickextendedhishandtowardher.“Isn’tthatwhatbestfriendsarefor?”
Derricklookedbemused.“Thanks,”hesaid.“I’llkeepthatinmind.Oh,er,sorry,I—”Henoticedtheuneasyglanceshegave
hisblackenedhand,thensaid,apologetically,“Incensepowder.JessicaandIwerejust—”
“Oh,GoodyFletcher’sbook!”Dinalaughed.“Youfoundit.Congrats.”
Hegrinned.“Thanks.”
IcarefullywatchedDina’sfacetoseeifitregisteredanything—shock,pleasure,pain—whenDerrick’sfingerstouchedhers.
Butitdidn’t.Dinalookedlikehernormalself—granted,infullmakeupevenatsuchanearlyhour,readyforadayatthe
officeinherskirtsuit,highheels,andpearls—asshedroppedhishand.“It’sverynicetoofficiallymeetyou.Derrick,
right?”
“Yes,”Derricksaid.Hestillseemedbemused…forwhichIcouldn’treallyblamehim.DinaandMarkwerealotevenat
anormalhour.Atseveninthemorning,especiallywhenyouthrewinthecannoliandthenewsofthekingtide,theywere
extra.
“Sohowbadisthefloodingthistime?”Iasked.
“Bad.”Dinashookherhead.“IheardfromSalthismorning.Hehadtocallanin-homelearningdayforthehighschool.The
cafeteriaflooded.Theentirefirstfloor,really.”
“Butitdidn’tevenrainlastnight.”Icouldn’tbelievethis.“Andthefullmoonisn’tuntilThursday.”
“Iknow.”DinawaseyeingDerrickashesippedthecoffeeshe’dbroughthim.“IsthispartoftheriftthingJessicasaid
you’reheretohelpuswith?”
“Itcouldbe,”Derrickreplied,carefully.
“Iknewit.”Dinashookherhead.“Iknewsomethingweirdwasgoingon.”
“Somethingweirdisalwaysgoingonaroundthistown.”MarkwasalsoeyeingDerrick,onlyhewasdoingsosuspiciously,makingitprettyclearthatheincludedhiminthelistofthemanyweirdthingsgoingonaroundtown.“Jesssaysyousawthewolf?BecauseIsawit,too,weeksago,butnobodybelievedme.Everyonesaiditwasonlyadog.”
Derrickshookhishead.“Thatwasnodog.”
“Right?IknowwhatIsaw.”NowthatMarkcouldseeDerrickwasonhissideaboutthewolf,hebegantowarmuptohim.“Hey,
isthatyourrideoutthereinthedriveway,bro?Dina’sbrothertoldusaboutthathailstormoveratthehighschoolyesterday.
Sal’saskeptic,sohedoesn’tthinkitwasparanormal,butIcantellyouitdidn’thailoveronmysideoftown.Firstthe
wolf,thenthehail,nowthiscrazytide.Whatthehelliscomingnext?”
Derricksentmeasilentlook,halfwaybetweenapleaforhelpandarebuke—whetherforlettingMarkandDinaintomyhouse
inthefirstplace,ortellingthemwhoDerrickwasandwhathewasdoinghere,Ididn’tknow.AllIknewwas,asecondlater,
Markhadhisarmwrappedaroundhim,andwassteeringhimtowardthefrontdoor.
“Thisisscaryshit,”Markwassaying.“Yourcarlookslikehell.Listen,Iknowaguy—”
“It’sarental.”
“Oh,man,Ihopeyoutookoutthesupplemental.Ican’tbelieve—”
TherestofwhatMarkwassayingwaslostasheherdedDerrickoutthedoortogolookathisdentedrentalcar.
Assoonastheyweregone,IgrabbedDinabythearm.“Didyoufeelit?”Iasked.
Sheshookherhead,lookingconfused.“Feelwhat?”
“Hisfingers,whenyoushookhishand.”
“No.Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“Likeanelectricchargefromhisskin—everytimehetouchesme,Ifeelit.It’slikebeinghitbyashock.Butinagoodway.Areyoutellingmeyoudidn’tfeelit?”
“No,Ididn’tfeelathing.Hisfingersjustfelt—normal.Wait—whatdoyoumeaneverytime?”Hereyeswidenedashervoicedroppedevenlower.“Likeduringsex,too?”
Inodded,unabletokeepasmileoffmyfaceasIthoughtofthepreviousevening’sactivities.“It’ssoamazing,Dee.Idon’t
knowifit’saspelloratechniquehelearnedsomewhereorjustanaturalgift.Butletmetellyou,whateveritis,it’s
hot.Ihavenever,inmylife—”
BothDina’shandsflewouttogripmywrists.“Wait.Jess.”HerfacelookedgraverthanI’deverseenit.
“What?”Iasked,alarmed.“Whatisit?”
“Whathe’sdoing,”shesaid.“Thatthingwithhishands?”
“Andhistongue,”Iadded.“Andhis—”
“Yeah,”shesaid,quickly.“That.Thatisn’tbecauseofaspell,Jess.”
“Itisn’t?Whatdoyouthinkitis,then?Reiki?Hypnosis?”Igasped.“Wait.Youdon’tthink—notcrystals?”
“No,”shesaid,shakingherhead.“Worse.”
“Why?”Iasked,alreadydreadingtheanswer.“Whatisit?”
Shegrinnedatme.“Youlikehim.”Jessica
Tomakeafriendofanyone,simplygoandbakeabun:
Butter,cream,sugar,andflourworkedtogetherforanhour
Ifmixedwithyeast,thenlefttobaketheheartofanyonewilltake.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
ItwascompletelyridiculousofDinatosuggestthatthereasonmyskinfeltasifitwereburstingintoflame—inagoodway—every
timeDerrickWinterstouchedmewasbecauseIlikedhim.
Iknowallaboutthelovehormoneoxytocinandhowitworks.Iwastherethatdaywelearnedaboutitintenth-gradehealth
class.
WhatwashappeningwithDerrickwassomethingelse.
ButIwasfinewithlettingDinathinkwhatsheliked.Allshe’deverwantedwasformetofindthesamekindofdomestic
blisswithsomeonethatshehadwithMark.
ButhowcouldItellDinathat—especiallyafterwhathadgonedownwithBilly—Iwasn’tsurethat’swhatIwantedformyself?
Thenagain,Ididn’tknowwhatIwantedformyself.
Butitcertainlyseemedlikeeveryoneelseintownthoughttheyknewwhatwasbestforme.
ThisbecameprettyobviousafterDinaandMarkhadleft,andDerrickandIfinallygottothatshower(andwhatfollowedafter,
whichwasjustasinterestingaswhathadgoneonbetweenuslastnight).Iwasinmysewingroom,finishingupsomehems
onafewgownsfortheball,whenDerrickcalledupthestairstome.
“Jess?”
Hewasalreadyhardatworkonthewirelesshomesecuritysystemhe’drunouttopickupfromHomeDepot.Notsurprisingly,
themanknewhowtoworkadrill.IkeptgoingdownstairsonthepretenseofgettingmoreteawhenreallyIwassneakingglimpses
ofhim.IwasgoingtobesoovercaffeinatedbythetimeIshowedupattheshop,mycustomersweregoingtobeafraid.And
sowereGabbyandEsther.Thetwoofthemhadalreadytextedthattheywantedtocomebyafteronlineschool.
Gabby:Icanpickoutadressandalsostarttrainingtoworkthere!AndyoucanstartmentoringEsther!
Itextedback:
Great.Seeyouboththisafternoon.
WaituntilEstherfoundoutwhatIreallyintendedtomentorherin.
ItrotteddownthestairstoseewhatDerrickwanted.IpretendedlikeIdidn’tnoticehowgoodhisarmslookedinhisshort-sleeved
Tasheheldmydrill.
“Awomanjustpulledupinfrontofyourhouse.”Derrickwaspeeringsuspiciouslyoutthewindowhewasattachingsensorsto.“Doyouknowher?”
Ifollowedthedirectionofhisgaze.Despitethegloomystarttothemorning,ithadturnedintoabeautifulfallday,the
skyacloudlessblueagainstwhichtheautumnleaveswereblazingredandgold.Aflockofbirds,alittlelateinheading
southforthewinter,formedaperfectVinthedistance.
ButthesecondIsawwhowasgettingoutofthecherry-redMercedescoupeinfrontofmyhouse,itfeltliketheskyhadturned
dark.
“Oh,no.”Iduckedbehindmycurtains.
“Whoisit?”Derrickdidn’tduck.Hejuststoodthereinthewindow,staringatthewomanwhowasflouncingdownmyfront
walk,herperfectlystraightblondhairflowinggentlyinthebreeze.“Isshefromyourhomeownersassociation,orsomething?
DidIneedtogetapermitfromthemfirstbeforeinstallingthesecameras?”
“Howcanyounotknowwhothatis?”Ireachedouttopullhimbehindthecurtainswithme.“It’sRosalieHopkins.Shepractically
runstheWCW!”
“Oh.”Helookedblank-facedforasecond,thensaidcalmly,“I’venevermether.”
“Yeah,well,luckyyou.Whatdowedo?Doweletherin?”
“Ofcourseweletherin.Whynot?We’renotdoinganythingwrong.”Heraisedhiseyebrowsatmemeaningfully.“Rightnow,
anyway.”
“Funny.Veryfunny.”Althoughitwassortoffunny.Rosalie,inherstylishensembleofpuffyvest,slouchycamelsweater,ridingjodhpurs,andboots,didlookalittlelikeshewasstridingdownmyfrontlanetoeitherlodgeacomplaintorwelcomemetotheneighborhood.Therewasadeterminedexpressiononherface,andacellophane-wrappedbasketofwhatlookedlikemuffinsinherhands.“Billymusthavetoldheraboutyou.Whatarewegoingto—?”
Butitwastoolate.Rosalie’sknockwasbrisk.“Hello,Jess?”shecalled.“Hi,it’sme,Rosalie.”
“Coming,”Icalled.TherewasnopointinpretendingIwasn’thome.IwassureRosaliehadseenmethroughthewindow.Besides,
she,likeBillyfromthedaybefore,wouldhaveheardustalkingthroughthedoor.
“Well,hello,Rosalie,”Isaid,givinghermybiggest,fakestsmileasIswungopenthefrontdoor.“Whatasurprise.How
areyou?”
“Well,I’mjustgreat,Jess!It’sgoodtoseeyoulookingso…well.”Onthewordwell,Rosalie’sgazestrayedtoDerrick,standingbehindmewithhisdrill,andstayedthere.
“Thankssomuch,”Igushed.“Won’tyoucomein?Rosalie,thisisDerrick.”Ididn’tbothertellingRosalieDerrick’slast
name.Iknewshe’dhavealreadylearneditfromBilly.“Derrick,thisismyoldfriendfromhighschool,Rosalie.Derrick’s
visitingforafewdaysfromthecity,Rosalie.”
“Oh,howlovely.”Rosaliewasquicktotakeineverything,fromthetoolinDerrick’shandtohistattootohismotorcycle
boots.“It’salwaysnicetogetoutofthecitythistimeofyear,isn’tit?”
“Itis,”Derricksaid,casuallyswinginganarmaroundmyshoulders.“Theweather’sbeenjustbeautiful.Exceptforalittle
hailyesterday,right,sweetheart?”
“Oh,right,yeah,thehail.”Whydidthewayhesaidsweetheartmakemyheartstutter,eventhoughwewereinafakerelationship?Well,fake-ish.“Thehailwasn’tsogreat.”
“Oh,thathail.”Rosalieshookherheadassheswungherbasketofmuffinsontomycoffeetable,theautumn-coloredcellophanecrinklinglikecrazy.“Wasn’tthatnuts?Billtoldmewhathappenedtoyourcar,Jess.Suchashame.Youknowhe’shadittowedovertoHopkins,andthey’redoingeverythingtheycantogetthedentsout.Andofcourseifyouneedaloaneruntilit’sfixed,well,youonlyneedtoask.”
Wait.Whatwashappening?Rosaliewasactuallybeing…nice?
“Um,”Isaid,confused.“Thanks.”
“And,here,Jessica,Ibroughtthisforyou.”Shepointedatthebasket.“Myworld-famouspumpkinspicemuffinswithstreusel
topping.Haha,Isayworld-famous,butreallyit’sonlymykidsandBillwholovethem.Ihopeyouwill,too,though.”
“Gee,thanks,Rosalie.”Ilookedthroughtheorange-and-redcellophaneintothebasket.Therereallywereatonofmuffins
inside,eachwithapieceofraffiatiedinabowaroundit,alongwithagiftcardwithagoldroseonthefront—Rosalie’s
longtimechosenpersonalinsignia.“Howthoughtfulofyou.Youreallydidn’thaveto.”
Shebattedherfauxminklashes.“ButIwantedto.Ijustfeltsobadforyou.Iknowhowmuchyoulovedthatcar.You’vehaditforever.Still,maybethisisablessing
indisguise.Maybenowisthetimetotest-drivesomethingnew.It’salwaysgoodtotrynewthings,isn’tit?”
Whenshesaid“trynewthings,”sheglancedoveratDerrick.
Sothat’swhatthiswasabout:apeaceofferingbecauseshethoughtI’dfinallymovedonfromherhusband.LikeIhadn’tmovedonfrom
Billymorethanadecadeago.
Butitturnedoutthatwasn’tallshewastalkingabout.
“Iheardyou’reaReachfortheSkymentorforoneofmyHarvestPrincesscandidates.”Hersmilewasbright.“GabriellaAquino?”
“Uh.”Rosaliehadgottenherinformationwrong,butthatwasnosurpriseinatownassmallasWestHarbor.Gossiphereflewasfastasbirds,andwasaboutasreliable.
ButIsawthequickwarningglanceDerricksentme,andsoIdidn’tcorrecther.Besides,Iwascuriousmyselftoseewhere
thiswasgoing.
“Ididsignuptobeamentor,”Iadmitted.“ButIhaven’treallyhadmuchtimeto—”
“Gabby’ssuchadarling,”Rosaliepurred.“Wealljustlovehertodeath.”
“Yes,”Isaid.“Gabbyisgreat.”
“SoIwantedtomakesuretoextendaninvitationtoyoutocometotheselectionceremonytomorrownight.It’sattheYacht
Club.Ireallythinkyou’llenjoyit.We’retryingtomakeitveryspecialforthegirls.It’sashametheycan’tallbeprincesses,
butwejustdon’thaveenoughscholarshipmoneytogoaround.”
“Sure,”Isaid,insteadofwhatIwantedto,whichwas,Youaresofullofcrap.“That’sunderstandable.I’lltrytomakeit.”
“Oh,thatwouldbesogreat.ItwouldmeansomuchtoGabby,Iknow.Andwillyoubestayingthroughtheweekend,Derrick?
It’sgoingtobeveryspecialthisyear.We’regoingtohaveaballinthevillagesquaretocelebrateWestHarbor’sTricentennial.”
“That’swhatI’veheard.”Derrickhadmadenomovetoremovehisarm.“I’mstaying…andlookingforwardtoit.”
RosalielookedasdelightedasifDerrickhadsaidhewasgoingtobackatruckloadofgarbageontoherlawnanddumpitthere.
“Howgreat!”Hersmilewasn’treachinghereyesnow.“It’sgoingtobesuchanimportantnightforourtown’shistory.Notmanytownscanboastthatthey’vebeenaroundaslongaswehave.That’swhyit’ssoimportantwecelebrateit.Speakingofwhich—”RosaliereachedintoherGuccihandbagandtookoutanenvelopethatshehandedtome.“IhappentohavetwoextraticketstotheballonThursday.Inoticedyouhadn’tsignedupyet,andIthought,well,therehastobesomekindofmix-up,becauseIcan’timaginethiseventwithoutJessicaGold!”
Ilookeddownattheenvelope,whichhadmynamewrittenacrossitinfancycalligraphy.Therehadn’tbeenamix-up.Ihadn’t
purchasedatickettotheballformyself—thoughI’dpurchasedthemforallmyemployeesandtheirsignificantothers.They
deservedtogo,iftheywantedto,afterallthehardworkthey’dputinattheFallintoFallsale,andtheworktheywere
goingtodothenextday,givingcandytotrick-or-treatersoutsidetheshop.ImyselfhadbeenintendingtodowhatIdid
everynightduringHalloweenseasoninordertoprotectmymentalhealth:gostraighthomeafterwork,turnoutallmylights,
getinbedwithPyeandsometakeout,andwatchtheFoodNetwork.
Oratleast,thathadbeenmyplanbeforeDerrickWintershadshownup.
“Gosh,”Isaid.“Thankssomuch,Rosalie.”
“Oh,it’smypleasure.”Shebeamedatme—butmostly,Icouldn’thelpnoticing,atDerrick.“Well,Jess,Iknowyou’rebusy,
soIwon’tholdyouupasecondlonger.Ireallyonlywantedtostopbytointroducemyselftoyournewbeau,andtoletyou
knowthatBillisdoingeverythinghecantorepairyourcar—andofcoursetomakesurethetwoofyougotthosetickets,
andinviteyoutoourselectiontomorrownight!”
“Thanksagain.We’lltrytobethere.”Ihopedshehadn’tdevelopedtheabilitytoreadmindsintheyearssincehighschool.
Shehadn’t—atleastifhersmilewasanyindication.“Great.”Sheshoulderedherbagandwavedatus.“Well,byefornow!”
Andthenshehurriedoff,assuddenlyasshe’dbreezedin.
“Whatwasthat?”IturnedtoaskDerrickassoonasshewasinhercarandoutofearshot.
“Idon’tknow.”Hewaslookingafterher,too,lostinthought.“Itakeitshe’snotalwaysthatfriendly?”
“No,Itoldyou,shehatesmyguts.She’sthewitchwhodestroyedmycar,remember?”
“Yeah.”Helookedafterherforamomentlonger,thenshruggedandturnedbacktomywindow.“Maybeshe’schanged.People
do,youknow.”
Istaredathim.“Intwenty-fourhours?”Ihelduptheenvelope.“Whyisshesoanxiousformetogotoherselectionthingie?
Andforustogototheball?Andwhydidshekeepgivingyoutheside-eye?”
“Well.”Grinning,heliftedthedrillandgavethetriggerapress.Zing!“I’vebeentoldIamprettygoodwithpowertools.”
Ididn’tsmilebackathim.“Youdorealizeshe’sprobablywhat’scausingtheriftinWestHarbor,right?RosalieHopkinslooksbeautiful,butherintentionsaren’t.I’mwilling
tobetmyshopthatsheknowswhatwe’redoing,andtheliveentertainmentatthepre-balldinnerisgoingtobethesacrificing
ofthevirginalHarvestPrincesses,justlikeEsthersaid.”
Hestoppedgrinning.“Ithinkyou’vehadabittoomuchofthattea.”
“Really?Youdon’tthinkIwaschosenbecauseIcantellwheneviliswalkingaroundrightunderournoses?”
Derrickshookhishead.“That’snotactuallyhow—”
“I’mtellingyou,thatwastheevil,rightthere.”IpointedinthedirectionRosaliehaddriven.“Forgetstupidwolves.TheevilisRosalieHopkins.
She’suptosomethingandshewantsustogototheballonThursdaynighttokeepusoutofthewaywhileshedoesit,which
iswhyshegaveusthese.”Iwavedtheenvelopewiththetickets.“Sowhatarewegoingtodoaboutit?”
Hetooktheenvelopefromme,sliditintothebackpocketofhisjeans,thentookmyhandandpulledmeclose.Instantly,Ifeltsoothed—butalsoalittleturnedon.“We’regoingtocarryonwithourplan,”hesaid.Therumbleofhisvoiceinsidehischestfeltreassuringagainstme.“You’regoingtotrainEsther,andI’mgoingtoprotectyouboth.Idothink,however,thatitwouldbeagravemistaketoeatanyofthosemuffins.”
Icouldn’thelplettingoutasnortoflaughter.“Agreed.”Derrick
Witchesmostreverethosewhoteach,andunselfishlygiveoftheirgreaterknowledgeandwisdomtothosewhoaskrespectfully,
inordertohelpmaketheEarthabetterplaceforall.
RuleNumberSixoftheNineRules
*WorldCouncilofWitches*
Derrickhadaproblem.
Derrickhadmultipleproblems,actually,buttheonethatseemedmostpressingwasthathehadsleptwiththeChosenOne.
Notjustonce,butmultipletimes.
Andhedidn’tplanonstoppinganytimesoon.Ifanything,hehopedheandJessicacontinuedsleepingwitheachotheruntil
oneortheotherofthemputastoptoit.Andtheonlythinghewascertainofatthispointwasthatthatpersonwasn’t
goingtobehim.
He’dknownheshouldhaveturneddownthisjob.He’dhelpeddozensofwitchesindozensofvillagesexactlylikeWestHarbor.
Manyhadbeensaved.Afewhadnot.
Butnoneofthosejobshadevergottenpersonal…untilnow.
TheobviousdifferencewasJessica.Hecouldhavelaidtheblameonherwarmlaughteranddarklyshiningeyes—nottomentionherdeliciouslysoftbodyandevensoftermouth.
Butheknewitwasmorethanthat.Moreeventhanhersarcasticsenseofhumorandskepticalattitude—bothclearlywornas
armortoprotectaheartthatwasasvulnerabletomishandlingasherhomewastotheelements.Moreeventhanthatcheerful
homeandwarm,invitingbed.
Itwasher.Justher.
That’swhyhehadtoprotecther,andwhyhewaswillingtoriskeverythingtodoso,eventhoughheknewthatwhenshefound
outthetruth,itwasprobablygoingtogethimbannedfromthatbedforever.
Butuntilthattime,hecouldmakehimselfuseful.He’dbeeninherofficeinthebackofhershop,usingaputtyknifeand
ahammertotrytounstickthewindowthere,butnowhewasleaningintheopenofficedoor,watchingwhileshefittedEsther’s
friendwithagown.Ortriedto,atleast,sincethekidwouldn’tcomeoutofthedressingroom.
“I’msureitlookslovelyonyou,Gabby,”Jessicacalledtothegirl.
“Itdoesn’t.”Thereplyfrombehindthevelvetcurtainsoundedhopeless.
“Justcomeoutandletmesee.Orletmecomein.It’satrickygown.Itmightneedsomeadjusting.”
“It’snotthegown.It’sme.Ilookterrible.”
DerricksawJessicaexchangeglanceswithEsther,whowassittinginhisoldspotintheFriendsandFamilyChair,doingher
homework.Jessica’slookwaspleading.Thekidrolledhereyesandcalled,“Comeonout,Gabs.There’snooneelsehere.”
Atthis,sheexchangedanapologeticglancewiththesalesgirlbehindtheregister.Butthesalesgirlonlysmiledandwent
backtowhatevershewasdoingonthecomputer.“I’msureyoulookamazing.”
“Idon’t.”
Butfinallythegirlflungthecurtainbackandcameoutofthedressingroom.And…shewasright.Shelookedterrible.
Derrickcouldn’tbelievethatJessica,ofallpeople,wouldhaveputherinsuchahideousgarment.Apastelnightmareof
somekindofshinymaterial,coveredinfakeflowers,thekidlookedlikeaweddingcakesomeonehadleftinthesuntomelt—and
fromtheexpressiononherface,sheknewit.
“Okay,”Jessicasaid,hertonewaytoochipper.“That’snotsobad.”
Notsobad?HedartedalookinEsther’sdirectiontoseewhatheropiniononthematterwas,butshe’dwiselyduckedher
headbackoverwhatevershewaswriting.Smartkid.
“Notsobad?”Gabbystaredatherreflectioninthefull-lengthmirrorindismay.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?Ilookawful.”
“Youdon’tlookawful.”Jessicareachedouttodosomethingtothegown.“Youjustneedalittle…”
Andsuddenly,withatwistofJessica’sfingers,thefakeflowersfellintoplace,andturnedtosilkblossomsinthepalest
ofpurplethatgentlykissedGabby’sshoulders,andthenfloatedtogethertoformaheartshapeatthecenterofherchest.
Theshinymaterialseemedtotransformintoshimmeringgossamer,nippinginsoftlytoclingtoGabby’scurvesinalltheright
places,thenbillowingoutgentlyatothers.
“There.”Jessicatookastepbacktoadmireherhandiwork.“That’smorelikeit.”
Suddenly,insteadofameltingweddingcake,Gabbylookedlikeawoodlandsprite.Anenchantedfairy.Somethingotherworldly
andethereal.Definitelybeautiful,anyway.
Andsheknewit.Shewasblinkingbacktearsofastonishmentatherowntransformationinthemirror.
Andshewasn’ttheonlyone.
“Whoa.”
Estherhadliftedherheadfromherhomeworkandwasstaringinwonderatherfriend.“Gabs.Youlookawesome!”
Gabriellasmiled—asmall,tentativesmile—andreacheduptowipehereyes.“DoI?”
“Yeah.”EsthersetherhomeworkasideandrosefromtheFriendsandFamilyChairtocrosstheshoptoadmireherfriend.“Totally.
Dude,youmightevenwin.Ms.Gold,howdidyoudothat?”
“Me?Ididn’tdoathing.”Jessicaleaneddowntofluffupthegown’slight,airyskirt.“It’sallGabriella.”
Gabby,clearlydelighted,laughedandtwirledinthemirror.Theskirtofthegownballoonedout,shimmeringinarainbow
ofcolors,allthepalesttonesofpinksandlavenders,likeaspringsunset.Thekidlaughed,andtwirledsomemore.
Derrickcouldn’thelpgrinningatJessica’spleasedexpression.Itwasheartwarmingtowatchherperformherveryspecific
kindofmagic,andevenmoreheartwarmingtoseethejoyshegotfromdoingit.Itgavehimjoytoseeherdoingit.
Goddesshelphim.HelookeddownatPye,whowassittingbyhisfeet,daintilylickingapaw.Hehaditbad.
“ButMs.Gold,”Gabriellasaid,stoppingmidtwirl,alookofanguishcrossingherface.“Icanneveraffordthis.”
Jessicanodded.“Iknow.It’sagoodthingyoudon’thaveanyextracurriculars,becauseyou’regoingtobeworkinghereevery
weekendfortherestoftheyeartopaymeback.”
ThegirlsquealedandthrewherarmsaroundJessica’swaist.Shewastooshorttoreachherneck.“Oh,thankyou,thankyou,
thankyou!”
“You’rewelcome.”Jessica,noticingDerrick’sgazeonher,smiledathimoverthetopofGabby’shead,thenpattedthegirlonthebackandsaid,“NowgotakeitoffsoIcanadjustthehem.It’swaytoolong.Anddon’tworry,I’llhaveitdonebytomorrownight.”
AsGabbyfloatedonacloudofhappinessbackintothedressingroom,JessicacrookedherfingeratEsther.“Comehere.”
Thekid’seyesgrewtwicetheirsizebehindthelensesofherglasses.“Oh,no,notme.Itoldyou,I’mnotintoprincesses.
Ordresses.”
“Iknow.That’snotwhatIwanttotalktoyouabout.”
Reluctantly,EstherfollowedJessica,wholedherbackintoherofficewherethewindowwasstillstuckhalf-open,Derrick’s
hammerandputtyknifeonthesill.Jessicasankdownbehindherdesk,gesturingforthekidtositinthechairopposite.
Derrickleanedintheopendoorway,curioustoseehowthiswasgoingtogo.Thiswasn’thisshow,afterall.Jessicawas
theChosenOne.
Jessicaopenedwith,“Chocolate?”andofferedEsthercandyfromtheopenbagonherdesk.
“Oh,cool,”thekidsaid,andgrabbedahandfulofminichocolatebars.“Thanks.”
“So,Esther.”JessicawasunwrappingaSnickersbarofherown.“Rememberthewolf?”
Thekidnodded,chewing.“Fromlastnight?Yeah,howcouldIforget?”SheglancedupatDerrick.“DidAnimalControlcatch
ityet?”
“No,”hesaid.LiketheAnimalControlDepartmentofWestHarborwouldn’twetthemselveslaughingifsomeonecalledinto
reportawolfsighting.“Notyet.”
“Oh.”ThekidglancedalittlenervouslyattheopenwindowbehindJessica’shead.Itwasonlylateafternoon,buttheautumn
sunwasalreadysinking.Itwouldbedarkinlessthananhour.“Soit’sstilloutthere.”
“Yes,”Jessicasaid,leaningforwardsothatherelbowswereonherdesk.“That’swhatIwantedtotalktoyouabout.DerrickherethinksthatthereasontherearesuddenlywolvesinWestHarbor—nottomentionthekingtidesthatkeepfloodingtheschoolandstuff—isbecauseademonicriftisopeningupbeneaththetown.”
Thekid,insteadoflaughingorrollinghereyes,nodded.Apparently,thiswasnosurprisetoher.
“AndinordertocloseitandsaveWestHarbor,”Jessicawenton,“we’regoingtoneedyou.Becauseaccordingtoanancient
prophecy,I’mtheChosenOne,andyou’retheBringerofLight—whichmeansonlywecanstoptheevil.”
EstherlookedfromJessicatoDerrickandthenbackagain.Thenshetookabiteoftheminichocolatebarshewasholding,
chewedforamoment,swallowed,andsaid,“Okay.”
Derrickwasn’tsurethekidunderstood.
“Esther,”hebegan.“Whatwe’resayingis—”
“No,Igetit.”ThekidreachedintothebagonJessica’sdeskforanothercandybar.“There’sabigbadintown,andyou
needmetofightit.”
DerrickglanceduncomfortablyatJessica.“No,that’snotwhatwe’resay—”
“Yeah,itis.”Thegirlshrugged.“Don’tworryaboutit.Iknewthisdaywasgoingtocome.I’maScorpio.Spookystuffis
myjam.”Settlingfartherbackintoherchair—socomfortablethatshemightalmosthaveputhersneakeredfeetupontothe
deskifithadbeenherownandnotJessica’s—shecontinued.“So,whatdoyouneedmetodo?”
DerrickexchangedglanceswithJessica.Shewassmiling,hereyeswarmlypridefulandeasilyread.See?Itoldyouthiswasthegirl.Isn’tsheamazing?
Hecouldn’thelpfeelingalittlemorecautious,however.He’dbeenthroughthisbefore.
“Wedon’tactuallyknowyet,”hesaid.“Butwedothinkwhateverisgoingtohappen,itwillbeduringthefullmoononThursday.”
“Makessense.”Estherwasnibblingthechocolatesidesoffhercandybarandleavingagooeymessofcaramelandpeanutsin
herfingers.“So,duringtheTricentennialBall,wheneveryoneisatthevillagesquare.”
“Exactly.”
“AndIpersonallythinkyoumightberightaboutthisHarvestPrincessthing,”Jessicasaid.“IfindMrs.Hopkins’splanof
selectingninegirlsforitalittlesuspicious.”
“Butwedon’tknowanythingforsure,”Derrickhurriedtosay.
Esthersquintedupathimthroughherglasses.“Sagittarius,”shesaid,pointingathim.“AmIright?OnthecuspofCapricorn?”
Whenheonlygapedather,shenodded.“Yeah.Definitelyaworkaholicwholikestokeepthepeace.”
Jessicaburstoutlaughing.“Uh-oh,Mr.Winters.She’sgotyournumber.”
Derrickcouldn’tbelieveit.HewasaSagittarius,butbornjustbeforeChristmas.Hismotherhadalwayscomplaineditwasdifficulttofindhimtwogifts,one
forhisbirthdayandoneforChristmas,andsoeveryyearhe’dreceivedonlyonefromher,thoughithadalwaysbeenabig,
absurdlyimpracticalone.
He’dnevercomplained,however,becausehe’dwantedtokeepthepeacebetweenhisseparatedparents.
Estherhadbeenabsolutelyright…notthathebelievedinanyofthatastrologicalcrap.
“Veryfunny,”hesaidtoJessica.“Listen,Esther,thisisserious.Wehavenowayofknowingwhattoexpect.Wesimplyhave
tobealert.Andyou,especially,havetobecareful.Idon’twantyougoingoutbyyourselfafterdark.Iunderstandthat
spookystuffisyour,uh,jam,butthatwolfcouldbetheleastterrifyingthingtocomeafteryouinthenextfewdays.”
Shelookedjustasshehadthenightbefore:absolutelythrilled.“Cool!”
“No,notcool.”MaytheGoddessgivehimpatience.“I’mserious.Halloweenisthedayafterthefullmoon,andistraditionally
believedtobewhenspiritsroamtheearth,lookingtoavengetheirdeath.Soinadditiontodealingwiththeriftandthe
threatfromanylivingbeingswhomightbeonthesideofthedemons,we’vealsogottobewaryofthat,aswell.”
“Oh,noworries,Mr.Winters.”Estherpulledherhomeworkfromherbackpack.“I’vegotitcovered.I’vewrittenallabout
itinthislettertothemayor.”
“Themayor?”TheGoddessclearlywasn’tlisteningtohispleas.“Idon’tseehowthat’s—”
“It’scomplicated,butI’mprettysurethemayorcanhelpwithourdemons.”
Derrickdidn’twanttobetheonetobreakittoherthatonlyEstherherself—withtheaidofJessica—couldridhertownof
itsdemonproblem,especiallywhenthekidwaslookingdownatherletter,herbrowslightlycreased—thefirstsignofreal
anxietyshe’dshownsofar.
“I’mjustnotsurehowtogetthistoher,”shewenton.“IfImailit,itwon’tgetthereintime.AndifIaskmymomto
giveittoher—becausethemayorandmymomarefriends—she’sgoingtowanttoknowwhatitis.ButIdon’twantmyparents
toknowaboutthisstuff.They…”Herbrowcreasedevenmore.“Theydon’tknowaboutmymagic,andIdon’twanttotell
them.Itwouldonlyworrythem.”
Jessica’svoicewaswarmasshestretchedherhandoutacrossherdesk.“Ifeelthesamewayaboutmyparents,soIunderstand.
Givethelettertome.Iknowthemayor’swife.I’llmakesureshegetsit.”
Estherbrightenedwithrelief,allthelinesgonefromherface.“Thatwouldbegreat.”ShelaidtheletterinJess’shand.“Thanks.”
Derrickwasabouttosaysomething—what,hehardlyknew.Maybe,Idon’tthinkaletterisgoingtowork—whenPye,tiredofallofthisconversation,leapedfromDerrick’sfeettothewindowsill.Thecatwasobviouslyintenton
goingoutsideforaprowljustasthesunwasbeginningtoset.
“No!”Jessicacried,springingfromherchair.ShelungedtograbholdofPye’ssleekblackbody,butthecatmovedtooquickly
forher.Hispawswereonthesill,poisedtopushhimselfoutofthewindow,whentheentireofficeshook—fromthefloor
totheceiling—asiffromasmalltremorbeneaththeearth.Samplesofcandlesandcrystalstinkledontheshelvesabovetheir
heads,andpilesofstock—fortunatelymostlyonlycolorfulclothing,stillinplasticwrapping—cametumblingdownupontheir
heads
Butthatwasn’tallthatfell.Theofficewindowcamecrashingclosedwithabang,trappingaverystartledPyeinside.The
catjumpedfromthesilltocrouchatJessica’sfeetbeneathherdesk,hisbackarchedinindignation
Derrick—who’dgrippedthesidesofthedoorframeinwhichhe’dbeenstandingatthefirstsignofwhathe’dassumedwasan
earthquake—sprangacrossthedesktoreachthewindow.Becausejustastheframehadcomecrashingdown,hecouldhavesworn
he’dglimpsedashimmeroflightbehindtheglass.Theglowofaflashlightbelongingtosometeenagers,performingapre-Halloween
prank?
OrtheeyesofthedemonwhowasbehindwhatDerricknowrealizedwasn’tanearthquakeorprankatall,butaconcentrated
efforttotraptheminside,andthendestroythem?
Butwhenhegottothewindow,hesawnothingoutsideexcepttheparkinglotbehindthestore.Therewasnoonethere—pranksters,demons,orotherwise.
“Areyouallright?”heturnedtoaskthewomenastheybothpushedclothingfromtheirlaps.“Areeitherofyouhurt?”
“I’mfine.”JessicahaddugPyeoutfrombeneathherdeskandwasstrokingtheaffrontedcreature.“Esther?”
“Yeah,sorryaboutthat.”Estherpickedapieceoffuzzfromherlipsthatacashmereshawlhadleftbehindasitfellon
her.“Ididn’tmeantoslamthewindowdownsohard.Ijustwantedtomakesurethecatdidn’tgetout.”
Derrickstared.“Wait…youdidthat?”
“Yeah.Sorry.I’venevermovedanythingthatheavybefore.I’msurpriseditevenworked.Eitherthatwindowwasstuckharder
thanIthought,or…”Shetrailedoffwithashrug.“Idon’tknow.”
Derrickknew.Derrickknewexactlywhyithadworked.Thereasonithadworkedwassittingnexttohim,holdinghercatclose,
andstrokingthethoroughlyunimpressedfeline.
TheChosenOne.TheChosenOnehadfoundherBringerofLight.
AndEstherhadbroughtthelight,allright.
Derrickfeltlikeheneededadrink—astrongone,andnotcoffee,either.Hehadneverinhislifeseensomeonewithpowers
asstrongasEsther’s
Andshewasonlyakid.Jessica
OfferingsshouldbemadetotheMotherGoddessduringthetimeofreapingtoshowthythankfulnessforasuccessfulharvest.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
Derrickwantedadrink.ItoldhimtherewasnobetterplacetogetonethanTuesdayNightTriviaattheBrewport.
“Thatisn’texactlywhatIhadinmind,”hegrowled.
“Look,Idon’twanttogo,either,”IsaidasIlockedPyeupintomyhouse,anacthewasexpressinghisoutrageagainst
bymeowingloudlybehindthefrontdoor.“ButInevermissTuesdayNightTrivia,soifIdon’tshowup,it’sgoingtolook
weird—likesomethingisup.”
“Youmeanlikeyoujustgotanewboyfriendandyouwanttostayhomesohecanravageyou?”
“Um…”Ipausedbeforedroppingmykeysintomybag.MaybeIwasmakingthewrongdecision.“Iwasn’tawarethatwasan
option.”
“Itis.Itwouldbesaferandthereforemoresensible.Alsovastlymorepleasurable.”
Hestillseemedabitshakenbywhathe’dseenbackattheshop.NotthepartwhereI’dfoundtheabsoluteperfectdressforGabby—thepartwhereEstherhadperformedhertelekinesis.
Thathadshakenme,too,thoughnotasmuchasitseemedtohaveshakenhim,sinceI’dseenherdoitbefore.
“Iagree,”Isaid.“ButEsther’sgoingtobethere.Herparentsowntheplaceandaremakingherworkatthehostessstation.
Don’tyouthinkweshouldgoandkeepaneyeonher?EspeciallysinceRosalieandBillymightbethere.”
Helookedalmostphysicallypained.“Mightbe?”
“They’reonateam,yeah,”Isaid.“Theydon’talwaysshowup.Iwouldn’texpectthemtothisweek,withalltheTricentennial
stuffgoingon.Butiftheydo,dowereallywantthemaroundEstherwithoutusbeingtheretokeepaneyeon—?”
“Triviaitis.”Heheldouthisarmtoescortmedownmyporchsteps.
Ismiledandlaidmyhanduponhisarm,likehewasagentlemanandIwasalady.“Thankyou,kindsir.”
“ButI’dratherstayhometonightandravageyou.”
Mypulsequickened.Somuchforhimbeingagentleman.
“ObviouslyI’dpreferthat,too,”Isaid.“ButIthinkwe’llhaveplentyoftimeforthatafterTrivia.Shouldwewalk?It’s
anicenight,andtherestaurant’snotthatfar—”
Derrickcastanaggrievedlookinthedirectionofhisrentalcar.“Walkingisfinebyme.”
WehadtogoalmosthalfablockbeforeIcouldnolongerhearthesoundofPye’spiteouswailingatbeingleftinsideon
suchacool,clearnight
“Sodoyoufeelalittlebetteraboutourchancesofbeatingthisthing—whateveritis—nowthatyou’veseenwhatEsthercando?”Iaskedasweturnedontothecoastalroad.ThoughIcouldn’tyetseethem,thesoundofthewavesgrewlouder.Andthenightair,whichI’dthoughtpleasantlycoolbefore,grewcolder.
“Idon’tknowwhattofeelnow,”Derricksaid.“I’veneverseenanythinglikethat.”
Ilaughed—butmorewithuneasinessthananythingelse.“Oh,comeon.Youmusthave.You’vetraveledallovertheworlddoing
this,haven’tyou?Surely—”
Hecutmeoff.“No.Never.Notlikethat.”
“Well.”Iwashuggingmyself,butIwasn’tcertainifitwasbecauseofthechillofthewindcomingofftheSound—orfear.
“Thatbodeswellforus,doesn’tit?She’sonourside,soifshe’sthemostpowerfulwitchyou’veeverseen,thatmustmean
wecan’tlose.”
Hestoppedwalkingandlookeddownatmeintheamberlightfromthestreetlamp.Thenearlyfullmoonwashiddenbehindswiftly
movingdarkclouds.Amistwasbeginningtorollinfromthesea,andIcouldsmellitsbrinyscent,likeshuckedoysters—only
theseoysterssmelledasifthey’dsatoutabittoolonginthesun.
“Wecanmostdefinitelylose,”hesaid,hisgazehoodedandunreadableinthehalf-light.“Andmorethanjustthistown’s
rankingasacutestopforleafpeepers.Wecouldloseourlives.Shenearlybroughttheceilingofyourshopdownonour
heads.”
“Oh,comeon,”Iscoffed.“Estherwouldnever—”
“Ofcourseshewouldn’t—notonpurpose.Butshe’sakid.Andlikemostkids,shedoesn’tknowherownstrength.Ifshegets
emotional,there’snotellingwhatkindofdamageshecoulddo.”Henoddedtowardmybag.“Whatdoesherlettertothemayor
say?”
Igraspedmytote.“Areyoukiddingme?Wecan’treadherletter.That’sprivate.”
Hefrowned.“Thefateofyourtownmightrestonwhatthatkidhaswritteninthatletter,andyou’renotgoingtotakeapeek?”
“No.Iwouldnever!”
Then,justasI’dbeguntoworrythatI’dputallmytrustintosomeonewhowouldopenlettersthatweren’taddressedtohim,
hesnakedoutanarm,pulledmeclosetohim,andburiedhislipsinmyneck.
“That’swhyyou’retheChosenOne,”hemurmured,andthefeelofhisskinagainstminesentshiversofacompletelydifferent—and
entirelypleasurable—kindthroughme.
“Getaroom,youtwo!”
DerrickandIbrokeapartasacarswervedupclosetothesidewalkwherewestood.IlookedovertoseeDinaleeringatme
fromthepassengerseat,whileMarksatbehindthewheel.
“Hey,lovebirds,”shecalledthroughthewindowshe’dputdown.“Headedourway?”
Ihopedthelightwasdimenoughthatneitherofthemwouldnoticemyflamingcheeks.
“Oh,hi,”Isaid.“Idon’tknow.Whereyouheaded?”
“Youknowwherewe’reheaded,byotch.”Iheardtherearpassengerdoorclosesttouspopassheunlockedit.“Getin,losers!”
Ismirkedandreachedforthedoorhandle,untilInoticedDerrick’shesitationtofollowme—andhisconfusedlook.“Oh,”
Isaidtohim,rememberinghisupbringing,andthathe’dprobablyneverseenMeanGirls.“That’salinefromamovieDinaandIlikedaskids.”
“Oh.”Hedidn’tlookparticularlycomforted—especiallywhenhefollowedmeintothecaronlytohearMarkcry,onlyhalfsarcastically,
“Dude!How’sithanging?”
ButI’mnotsureanythingcouldhavepreparedDerrickfortheshockofthefactthatGetIn,Loserswasourtriviateam’sname,andwasshiningdownfromalltheflat-screenTVs(ofwhichthereweredozens)intheBrewport,alongwithourteamstats(whichweren’tgreat).
Alargefamily-stylerestaurantbuiltonadeckrightovertheSound,withadockleadingfromit,theBrewportofferedeverything
fromcraftbeersandburgerstoavideogamearcadeguaranteedtokeepthekidsoccupiedwhiletheirparentswatchedtheir
favoritesportsteam(orplayedTrivia).Packedwithbeachgoersinthesummertime,businesswasnolessslowinthegolden
glowofautumn.Thebeginningofhockeyandendofbaseballseasonalwayslefttheplaceslammed,rightonthroughtothe
Superbowlandbasketballplayoffs.
ButeverythingstoppedforTuesdayNightTrivia.
Esther’sparents’team,theBrewportBruisers,includedtheirfriendsaswellaswaitstaffandbartendersfromtherestaurant.
Theywonnearlyeveryweek.
ButthatneverstoppedDinaandYasmin—whowerebothcompetitivebynature—fromstrategizingoverhowGetIn,Losersmight
stealtheBruisers’crown.
DinawasquizzingDerrickasMarkandherbrother,Sal,wereupatthebar,securingbeerandwineforourhightop.
“Sowhatareyourareasofexpertise?”DinaaskedDerrick.
Cunnilingus,Ithought.
ButDerrickonlysaid,“Idon’tknow.I’veneverplayedtriviabefore.”
“Neverplayedtriviabefore?”Yasminechoed.ShehadbeenattherestaurantforanhouralreadywithSalandthekids—who,
havingfinishedtheirburgers,wereoffinthevideoarcadesection,happilyassassinatingdigitalalienswiththeirfriends—and
wasonherthirdglassofpinotgrigio.“NotevenTrivialPursuit?”
“No.”Derricksmiledather,definitelygivingtheappearanceofpayingattentiontotheirconversation.
ButIcouldseehisgray-eyedgazequicklysweepingtheroom,takingintheothertablesandteams,tryingtofigureoutiftherewereanysupernatural—orotherwise—threatsheneededtoworryabout.
He’dalreadyclockedEstheratthehostessbooth.She’dseatedus,assumingapolitelydistantprofessionaldemeanorasshe
broughtustoourtableandhandedusourmenus.I’dcomplimentedheronhowshelookedinherBrewportuniformofkhakipants
andnavypoloshirt,andreceivedinreturnanicy“Thankyou.”
Estherhatedhernewjob.
“Well,it’ssimple,”YasminwassayingtoDerrickasshepointedtotheflatscreensoverhead.“Dr.Steve—he’sourlocalveterinarian,
butalsothetriviamaster—willprojectthequestionsuponthescreens,andthenwewriteouranswersonhere.”Sheshowed
himouranswersheet.“Whenwe’redone,eachteamhandstheiranswersin.ThenDr.Stevetabulatesthem,andtheteamwith
themostrightanswerswinsareallygreatprize.”
IsmiledatDerrick.“ABrewportT-shirtinthecolorofyourchoice.”
“Everyteammembergetsone!”Yasmincriedexcitedly.“Sofarwe’veneverwon.”
“Well,”Derricksaidwithmockseriousness.“ThenIguesswe’dbetterwintonight.”
Igrinnedathim,andtriedtoignoretheflutterIfeltinmyheartwhenhegrinnedback.Thiswasbad.Thiswassobad.
Dinacouldn’tberight.Icouldn’tlikeDerrick—notthatway.ItneverworkedoutwhenIlikedaguy.Italwaysendedindisaster—occasionallyspectacularly.Icouldn’t
letthisendthesameway,especiallywithinnocentteenagersinvolved.
Butsurelyitwouldn’t—notthistime.Derrickwasleavingsoonanyway,regardlessofhowthingsturnedout.Hehadtogetbacktohisimportantjobofsavingothertownsfromdemonicruin.SoprobablyIwasworryingunnecessarily.Probablyeverythingwasgoingtobe—
“JumbonachoplatterfortheSistersInLaw?”aserverasked,beforeslidingaheavyplateinfrontofus.“Complimentsof
thehouse.”
“Yay,”Yasmincried.“Yep,that’sus!”
“Oh,it’ssosweetofthemtoremember,”Dinasaid,beforediggingin.“Thanks!”
Derricklookeddownattheheapingplateofgooeydeliciousnessbeforeusandraisedaquestioningeyebrow.BeforeIhada
chancetoexplain,anattractiveBlackwomanappearedatourtable,herhandsrestingontheslimshouldersofaveryembarrassed
teenagedgirl.ItwasEstherandhermother,VirginiaDodge.
“Oh,good,”saidMrs.Dodge.“Theybroughtyournachos.”
“Thankssomuch,Virginia.”Yasmin’smouthwasfull,butthatdidn’tstopherfromgushing,“Youreallydon’thavetokeep
doingthiseverytime.”
“Areyoukiddingme?”Mrs.Dodge,softandcurvyinalltheplacesherdaughterwassharpandangular,alsosharedthesame
intelligenteyesandwarmlygenerousmouthasEsther.“Afterwhatyoudidforus?Ithinkwewouldhavehadtomoveifyou
twohadn’tclearedupthatfencelinesituation.Andnowyou,JessicaGold,agreeingtobeEsther’smentor?Doyouknowhow
muchmoneythat’sgoingtosaveus?Collegetuitionhasgottenoutrageous,andofcoursethisonewantstogotooneofthemostexpensiveuniversitiesinthecountry.Andwehaveherlittlebrotherstosend,aswell.
Weoweyoualotmorethannachos!Pleaseorderanythingyoulike,onthehouse.”
IsmiledwhileEsthersaidnothing,merelylookedasifshewishedtheflooroftherestaurantwouldopenanddropherstraight
intothesea.
“Youdon’thavetodothat,Mrs.Dodge,”Isaid.“It’smypleasure.Estherisaremarkablegirl.”Inmorewaysthanhermotherknew.“Shereallydoesn’tneedanymentoring.ButI’mgladtodoit,justthesame.”
“We’lljustbehappyifyoucangetheroutofhershell.”Mrs.Dodgewrappedherarmsaroundherdaughterandsqueezedher
tight,whileEstherrolledhereyes.“She’ssoshy.We’rehopingherworkinghereafewnightsaweekwillhelp.”
Derrickglancedquestioninglyatme.Esther,shy?
Igrinnedback.Iknow.
“Mom.”Estherwiggledoutofhermother’sarms.Itwasamusingtoseehowthenormallypoisedandconfidentgirlreverted
intosomeonecompletelydifferentwhenherparentswerearound.“CanIgobacktoworknow?”
“Oh,yes,go.”Mrs.DodgepattedEstherontheshoulderasthegirlreturnedtothehostessbooth.“Andplease,Jessica,call
meVirginia—orbetteryet,Ginny.Reggie”—ReginaldDodge,Esther’sfather—“isaroundheresomewhere,Iknowhe’sgoingto
wanttostopbytothankyouaswell,butthere’saproblemwithoneoftheATMs.Areyouallreadytogetyourbuttsbeat
tonightbytheBruisers?”
“Notgonnahappen!”Yasmindrainedherwineglass.“Tonight’sthenightfortheLosers!”
“Sure,itis,”Ginnysaid,smilingsweetly.“Haveyoucheckedoutthecategories?”Shepointedtothelargestscreenabove
ourheadsjustbeforehurryingbacktoherowntable.“Ihaveafeelingweallmightbeintrouble!”
Ididnotagree.Tonight,Dr.Stevehadselectedhiscategoriesbasedonaholidaytheme,andtheholidayhe’dchosenwas
Halloween.
SowithcategorieslikeHauntedHouses,GhostsandGhouls,SpookyMusic,IWantCandy,andWitches,itseemedliketheLosersmighthaveanunfairadvantageovereveryoneelse,evenifnoneofthemknewit.
“ThankGod,”Yasminsaid,confidentlyscrawlingourteamnameatthetopofouranswersheet.“Thingsmightfinallygoour
wayforonce.”
“Haveyoueverconsideredchangingyourteamnametosomethingthatdoesn’thavethewordloserinit?”Derrickasked.
“Whywouldwedothat?”
“Becauseitcouldbeaself-fulfillingprophecy.Maybeit’swhyyouneverwin.”
Yasminshothimadirtylook.“Jess,I’mnotsureaboutthisguy.Ifyouwanttokeephangingoutwithhim,youmighthave
toleavehimathomenexttime.”
Shewasonlyhalfjoking.Yasmintookhertriviaveryseriously.
IwasgivingDerrickamock-reproachfullookwhenSalandMarkappearedwiththebeerandwine.
“YougirlsarenevergonnaguesswhoIranintoatthebar.”Markslidwineglassesandfrozenbeersteinsinfrontofus.
“Ifyou’regoingtosaythemayor,don’t.”DinawaspouringpinotgrigiofromthecarafeSalhadbroughtoverintoourglasses.
“IalreadyspottedheroveratthetablewiththerestoftheRightHonorables.”
“Themayor’shere?”IlookedaroundandsawhersittingwithherwifeandseveralofWestHarbor’sjudges,alongwiththe
cityattorneyandacouplecouncilmembers.
WouldthisbeagoodtimetosneakEsther’slettertoMargoDunleavy?Probablynot,withEsthersoclosebyatthehostess
booth.Shehadn’twantedherparentstoknowanythingabouthermagic.
ButifIcouldcatchMargoalone…
Sallooked,too.“Oh,damn.Halfofcityhallishere.They’regreatatthis.We’regonnagetcreamed.”
“No,we’renot.”Yasminwasexudingconfidence.“Whatdotheyknowaboutwitches?We’vegottwoofthewitchiestwitchesintownsittingrightherenexttous.We’regoingtoicethosenerds.”
“Themayor’snotwhoIwastalkingabout,”Marksaid.“ImeantRosalieHopkins.”
“Rosaliereallyishere?”Thehaironthebackofmyneckrose.I’dknownshe’dbethere,ofcourse,evenhearinghername
causedmeanxiety.ThatwomanhadgivenmeparanormalPTSD.
“Yeah.ShejustwentbacktoherseatatthattableovertherewiththeVeuveCliqueOhs.”
Iswungaroundtolook,thenletoutaninwardgroan.Rosaliewasthere,allright,sittinginoneofhermanypastel-colored
cashmeresweatersetsandsippingchampagnewhileidlychattingwithherfriendsfromtheYachtClub.Billy—who’devidently
comestraightfromwork,sincehewaswearingasuit—seemedtosensemygazeandbeganturninghisheadtowardme.
“Oh,God.”Iduckedbehindamenu,pretendingtobesearchingforsomethingtoorder.
“Subtle,”remarkedDerrick.
“Idon’tcare.”Ikeptmyfaceburiedinthemenu.“Ishestilllookingoverhere?”
“Uh.”Derrickshookhishead.“No.Oneofhiskidsjustcameupandistalkingtohim.AtleastIthinkit’shiskid.Ayoung
girlinacheerleadingoutfit?”
“Lizzie.”Iloweredthemenuandpeeked.Billywasengrossedinconversationwithhisdaughter,whowasasmaller,perkier
versionofRosalie.DressedinaWestHarborHighjuniorvarsitycheerleadinguniform,herblondhairwassweptintoahigh
ponytailtiedwithalargemaroonbow.Lizziehadasweetfaceand,fromallI’dheardontheteencircuit,anevensweeter
disposition.
ButitwastheadoringlookonBillythatgottome.Billyclearlycherishedhiskids.Rosaliehadgivenhimexactlywhathe’dalwayswanted:afamilyofhisowntolove.Maybeshewasn’tasbadasIthought.
OrmaybethespellDinaandIhadcasthadactuallyworked.
“Good,”Isaid,asIturnedbacktomymenuandbegantoreadit,thoughImostlyknewitbyheart.
Derrickraisedaquizzicaleyebrow.“Goodwhat?”
“Imean…thefoodisgoodhere.”Ihadn’tmeanttosharemymusingsonBillyoutloud.“Doyouwantsomethingmoreto
eatthanjustnachos?Ireallyliketheburger.”
“Sure,”hesaid,grinningatsomethingheseemedtofindamusing.“Let’smakeittwo.”
IsignaledourserverandputinourorderfortwocheeseburgerswithfriesjustasDr.Steve,thetriviamaster,beganwelcoming
everyoneoverthemicrophone.Thegamewasstarting.
Meanwhile,Markwascomplaining.“Ireallydon’tknowwhatyouallhaveagainstRosalie.”
“Shhh.”DinawasalmostasintenseduringTriviaashersister-in-law,becauseitwasoneoftheonlynightsMarktookoff
fromtherestaurant.“Dr.Steveisspeaking.”
“She’sjustaverynicepersonwhenyougettoknowher,”Marksaid.
“Mark,whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“Rosalie.”
“What?”
“RosalieHopkins.”
Dr.Stevehaduploadedthefirstquestion.ItflashedontothescreensaboveourheadsintheHauntedHousecategory.Dina
spunaroundonherstoolandhissed,soshewouldn’tbeheardbynearbyteams,“SleepyHollow.It’sSleepyHollow,isn’tit?”
Derrickagreed.“IwasgoingtosaySleepyHollow.”
“Writethatdown,”DinacommandedYasmin,whohadthepen.“SleepyHollow!”
“Waitaminute,”Isaid.Somethingwasbotheringme.“Mark,whatwereyoujustsayingaboutRosalie?”
“Isaidshe’sactuallyverysweetonceyougettoknowher.”Markchewedthoughtfullyonamouthfulofnachos.“AndBilly.
He’ssuchagreatguy.Idon’tknowhowwe’veoverlookedthatforsolong.”
“Mark,”Isaid.“Areyouallright?”
“Yeah,”hesaid,smilingatme.“Neverbetter.Iwasjustthinking.Don’tyouagreethatRosalieandBillyaregreat?Just
areallycoolcouple.Idon’tknowwhywedon’thangoutwiththemmore.”
Dr.Stevepostedanotherquestion,andDinawhippedaround.“Whoistheearliestrecordedwitch?Youguys?Firstrecorded
witch?Hecate?”
“Actually,”Derricksaid,“it’stheWitchofEndorintheBible,FirstBookofSamuel.”
Dinagasped.“Itis!You’reright.Yasmin,writethatdown.”
“Uh,”Isaid.“Mark,canyouaskDinawhatyoujustaskedme?AboutRosalieandBilly.”
“Sure.”MarkturnedtowardDina.“Honey,howcomewedon’thangoutwithRosalieandBilly?”
Dinalookedawayfromthescreenaboveourheadslongenoughtostareathim.“Whatthehellareyoutalkingabout?”
“They’resuchanicecouple.Weshouldreallyhavethemoversometime.”
“Areyoukidding?Nowyoudecidetomesswithme?”
“I’mnotmessingwithyou.”Mark’seyeswerewide—butInoticedtheyalsohadaslightlyglassyhazetothem,likethestreetlampoutside,asifthemistfromtheseahadrolledinandwasobscuringtheirlight.“MaybeweshouldinvitethemtotherestaurantforSundayGravy.”
“RosalieandBilly.BillyWalker?”
“Yeah.”Heshrugged,smilingpleasantly.“Whynot?”
Dina’sgazeflickedovertowardme.“What’swrongwithhim?”
Concerned,Ishookmyhead.“Idon’tknow.Mark.Mark.”
Itwasloudintherestaurant,withthebuzzofalltheteams,thedroneofthebaseballplayoffsontheTVscreensthatweren’t
projectingthetriviaquestions,thebing-bongofthegamesoverinthevideoarcade,andDr.Steve’svoiceoverthemicrophone.
PlusloudrockwasbeingpumpedoutovertheBrewport’ssoundsystem:Irecognizedtheirclassicrockstationasbeingfrom
thesamemusicstreamingserviceIusedatEnchantments,onlyminewassettoCoffeeShop.
ButMarkwasonlysittingafootortwoawayfromme.Heshouldhavebeenabletohearme.Itstilltookafewmomentsfor
himtorespond.Whenhedid,itwaswiththesameslow,glassy-eyedlookI’dnoticedbefore.
“Yeah?”heasked,andtookatinysipofhisbeer.
“Mark,”Iasked.“HowlonghaveyoufeltthiswayaboutRosalieandBilly?”
“Oh,Idon’tknow,”hesaid,thoughtfully.Markneverdidanythingthoughtfully.Hediditquick,andthoughtaboutitlater.
“Iguessit’sbeencomingonslowlyovertime.Butitreallystruckmejustnow,upatthebar,whenIranintoRosalie,and
shegavemeoneofherhomemademuffins.Thosethingsaredelicious.”
Derrick
ATrueWitchacknowledgesthatevilexists,anddoestheirbestwheneverpossibletocombatit.
RuleNumberSevenoftheNineRules
*WorldCouncilofWitches*
Derrickhadwitnessedmagicinallofitsmanyformsaroundtheworld.NyamainWestAfrica.KotodamainJapan.SeierinIceland.
Buthe’dneverwitnessedanythingquitelikewhatwashappeninginWestHarbor,aplacewheremagicseemedtobeemanating
fromeverywhereandeveryone—evenfromthepeopleheleastexpected.
ThesecondJess’sfriendMarkmentionedtheword“muffin,”DerrickglancedbacktowardthehightopatwhichRosalieandher
husbandweresittingandsawwhathe’dfailedtonoticebefore:thebasketsittingonthefloorbesidethem…abasket
thatwasthetwinoftheoneRosaliehaddroppedoffatJessica’shouse.
Onlythecellophanewrappingaroundthisonehadbeenbrokenopen.
AndonthetableinfrontofthepeoplesittingaroundRosaliewerecrumpledcellophanewrappersandstringsofraffia…theremnantsofthemuffinsthey’dconsumed.
“Whatthehell,”heheardJessicamutter.She’djustnoticedthesamething.
“Youguys.”Yasminturnedaround,peninhand,towhispertothemurgently.“Youguys,whichcountryexecutedthemostpeople
forpracticingwitchcraft,andhowmanypeoplewasit?”
“Germany,”Derricksaid.“Fortythousand.”Buttheresponsewasautomatic.ToJessica,hesaidinalowvoice,“Rosalie’s
usedafriendshipspell.”
“Lovemuffins.”Jessica’snormallywarmbrowneyeswereblazingwithanger.“Ican’tbelieveit.She’shandingoutlovemuffins.
Whatisshethinking?”
“Thatshewantspeopletolikeher.”
Jessicasnorted.“She’snotakidanymore.Whatkindofadultwouldresorttoafriendshipspelltogetpeopletolikethem?”
Onewhoisuptonogood.Butaloud,heonlyasked,“Hassheeverdoneanythinglikethisbefore?”
“AsidefromthelovespellshetriedtodoonBilly?NotthatIknowof.BakingismoreDina’sthing,really.”
Dina,meanwhile,wasstilltryingtofigureoutwhatwasgoingonwithMark.
“Whatdoyoumean,Rosaliegaveyouoneofhermuffins?”IfJessica’seyeswereblazing,Dina’sweretwinnuclearwarheads.
Anddetonationwasimminent.
“Itwassogood.”MarkwassmilingamiablyinthedirectionoftheVeuveCliqueOhs.“Howcomeyounevermakemuffinsthat
good,hon?”
“That’sit.”ThelegsofDina’sstoolscrapednoisilyagainstthecementfloorasshepushedherselfawayfromthetable.“Whereisthatwitch?I’llshowherwhathappenswhenyougivemyboyfriendamuffin—”
ButwhenthediminutivebrunettejumpedoffherstooltostormawayinRosalie’sdirection,Derrickcaughtherarm.
“Holdon,”hesaid.“Violenceisnevertheanswer.”
“Areyouserious?”Dinawrenchedherarmfromhisgrasp.HergazehadgonefromDEFCONFivetoOneinseconds.“Lookathim.She’sgoingtohavetopayforthis.Myboyfriendishighonmagic.”
“Heisn’thigh.”DerricksteeredDinagentlybackintoherseat.Hewastryingveryhardtomakeitlookasifeverything
wasnormaloverattheGetIn,Loserstable,eventhoughofcourseeverythingwasfarfromnormal—startingwiththefactthat
theirteamnamewassoterrible.“It’sonlyafriendshipspell.”
“Afriendshipspell?”Dinaspat.“I’llshowthatwitchsomefriendship.Myfoot’sabouttogetrealfriendlywithher—”
“Idon’tknowwhereallthishostilitytowardRosalieiscomingfrom,”Marksaid,holdingouthishandsinahelplessgesture.
“She’sneverbeenanythingbutnicetous.”
Dinastaredathiminhorror.“Whattheactualf—”
“Hey.”Yasmintappedurgentlyonthecarafeofwinetogettheirattention.“Howmanypeopleaccusedofwitchcraftwereburned
atthestakeinSalem?”
“None,”Salsaid,andalleyeswenttohimforachange.
“What?”Heshruggedhislargeshoulders.“It’satrickquestion.IsawitontheHistorychannel.Nopeopleaccusedofwitchcraft
inSalemwereburnedatthestake.Theywereeitherhangedorcrushedtodeathbeneathstones.”
“Gross,”Yasminsaid,andwrotedownZero
“Dee.”Jessicahadleftherownstool,andnowlaidahandonherfriend’sarmtokeepherfromphysicallylaunchingherselfatRosalie.Peoplewerebeginningtoglanceintheirdirection,mostlybecauseoftheagitationemanatingfromDina.“Youknowfriendshipspellswearoffinafewdays.”
“InafewdaysitwillbetheTricentennialBall.”Dinaslidbackintoherseat,butshedidn’tlookhappyaboutit.“She’s
tryingtogeteverybodyonhersidesothey’llwriteextranicereviewsofhereventonline.”
DerrickhadthefeelingthatRosalie’smotivesforhandingoutthemuffinswereabitdarkerthanadesireforpositiveonline
feedback.
“Isthiskindofthingokaywithwhoeveryouworkfor?”DinaaskedDerrickbitterly.“Slippingpeoplehappymuffinswithout
theirconsent?”
“No,”hesaid.“Itisnot.”
“Well,thenwhatareyougoingtodoaboutit?”
“This,”Derricksaid,andheheldhisrighthandouttoMark.“Howareyoudoing,Mark?”
MarkslippedhishandautomaticallyintoDerrick’s,givinghimaheartyhandshake.NotasheartyastheoneMarkhadgiven
himwhenthey’dmet.ButMarkhadn’tbeenstrungoutonRosalie’slovemuffinsthen.“Hey,man,”hesaid.“Thanks,I’mdoing
good.Howare—”
Markbrokeoffwithaperplexedexpression.Heseemedtobehearingsomethingtherestofthemcouldn’t.Hecockedhishead,
listening,whileDerrickcontinuedtogentlyclasptheotherman’sfingers.
Itwasn’tsomethingDerrickeverlearnedconsciouslytodo.Itwasn’tsomethinghe’deverevenknownhecoulddountiloneday,whenhe’dbeenakid,afavoritehorsehadrunafoulofsomebarbedwire,andDerrick,inapanic,had
laidhishandsuponthewounds.
Likemagic,thehorsehadcalmed,thepaindisappearing.Thewoundsthemselveshadhealedupbythetimethevetarrived.
Amiracle,anyoneelsewouldhavecalledit.Buthisfatherhadtakenonelook,shookhishead,andsighed.
“Yourdamnedmother,”he’dsaidtoDerrick—notwithoutaffection.
MaybeDerrickhadinheritedtheabilityfromher.Ormaybeithadbeenanotheroneofhergifts.Sincesheonlygavehimone
ayear—whichwasalsothenumberoftimesperyearshevisitedhim,sinceotherobligationskeptherbusytravelingallover
theworld—shetriedtomakeherpresentsespeciallyimpressive.
True,asaboyhe’dhavepreferredaNintendo,particularlysince,afterthat,itwasDerrickwhogotcalledanytimeananimal—or
ranchhand—fellillorwasinjuredonthefarm.
Butthegiftofhealingiswhathismothergavehim,andsoitwaswhathegavebacktoothers…likenow,intherestaurant,
holdingMark’shandashewaitedforthefoggyglazeintheotherman’seyestolift.
“What…”Markblinkedafewtimes.ThenDerricksawtheclarityreturn,seepingbacklikethetidebeneaththedock.Mark
hastilysnatchedhisfingersfromDerrick’s.
“Hey,bro.”Hisvoicesoundedonceagainlikehisown,hisdictioncrispandrapid-fire.“What’sgoingon?”
“What’sgoingon?”Dinastruckherboyfriendintheshoulder.Hergazewasstillfiery,butnowhereyeswerelitwiththewarmthofaffection
andworry,notrage.“What’sgoingon?What’sgoingonisthatRosaliegaveyouoneofherhomemadehappymuffinsandyouateit.Whatthehellisthematterwithyou?”
Markshookhishead,hislongdarkhairbrushinghisshoulders.“What?No,thatdidn’thappen.”
“Yes,itdid.YouweregoingonandonabouthowgooditwasandhowgreatsheandBillyare.”
“No.”ButMarklookedvaguelytroubled,asifhedidhavesomedistantmemoryof…something.“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.Ihatethatstupidwitchandherdopeyhusband.Ialwayshave.”
“That’snotwhatyouweresayingtwominutesago.”DinapointedatDerrick.“Ifhehadn’tdonehislittlemagictrickwith
hisfingersonyou,you’dprobablystillbeall,Oh,RosalieandBilly,they’resogreat,whydon’twegettogetherwiththemforSundayGravy?”
Marklaughed—butnervously.“Iliterallyneversaidthat.”
“Youliterallydid.”
Derrickfeltahandslideintohis.HelookeddownandsawJessicalookingupathim,herfaceverypaleunderthebright
lightsofthebrewpub.
“Thankyou,”shesaid,inavoicesoquiethewouldn’thaveheardherifhisverybeinghadn’tbecomeattuned,overthepast
fewdays,tohereveryword,hereverymovement,hereverybreath.
Hesqueezedherfingersinhis.“Ididn’tdoanything.”
“Youdid.”Hereyes,inallthewildlightsaroundthem,lookedlargeranddarkerthanever.Herhand,sowarmandalivein
his,feltoddlyreassuring.“EvenMarkknowsit,deepdown.Idon’tknowhowyoudidit,butyoudid.Thankyou.”
“Youdon’thavetothankme.It’smyjob.”Thewordswereautomatic,andcameoutsoundingmoregruffthanhemeantthemto.
Butthat’sbecausehewasfilledwithsuddenemotion—emotionhecouldn’tidentify.Allhecouldthinkwas,Whyisshethankingme?Doesn’tsheknow?Doesn’tsheknowhowIfeelabouther?
Butevidentlyshedidn’t,sinceshebegantopullherhandaway,hervoicegoingtartastheessenceofbergamot.
“Oh,soyouwereonlydoingyourjob?Well,inthatcase—”
Hetightenedhisgriponherfingers,keepingheranchoredbesidehim.
“Theremightbemitigatingcircumstancesinthiscasethatmayhavecausedmetogoalittleaboveandbeyondmyjob,”he
admitted.
Thesmilereturnedtohereyes—andherlips.“Mitigatingcircumstances?WouldIqualifyasoneofthose?”
Hecouldn’thelpsmilingback.“Itcouldbe—”
“M&M’s!”Yasmincried,startlingeveryone.Hergazewastotallyfocusedonthescreensoverhead.“They’rethecandythatmelts
inyourmouthandnotinyourhand,right?”
“Honey.”Salshookhisheadathiswifeasshehappilyscrawledherresponseontotheanswersheet.“Readtheroom.”
Itwasgoodadvice.Paylessattentiontotheattractivewomansittingbesidehim,radiatingsexualenergy—atleast,toDerrick—and
moretowhatwasgoingonintheroomaroundhim.That’showhehappenedtonoticethatRosaliehadlefthertable.Aquick
scanoftherestaurantshowedhimthatshewasoverbytheentrancetothevideoarcade,talkingtoaboywhocouldonlybe
herson.HewasthespittingimageofBilly,onlymuchyounger,shorter,anddressedinskinnyjeans.
“Excuseme,”Derricksaid,releasingJessica’shandandreachingfortheemptybeerpitcherandwinecarafe.“Ihavethenext
round.”
“Oh.”Jessicahadn’tnoticedRosalie.“Youdon’thavetodothat.Wecanasktheserver—”
“It’snotrouble.”Derrickmadehiswaythroughthethronggatheredaroundthebarandsetbothcontainersdown.“Twomore
forthattableoverthere,please,”hesaidtothefirstserverwhoacknowledgedhim,andpointedbacktowardtheGetIn,
Loserstable.Whenthebartendernodded,Derrickturnedtowardtheentrancetothevideoarcade.
Rosalie’sbackwastohim.Shehadherwalletopenandwashandingafifty-dollarbilltoherson.Derrickwascloseenoughthathecouldhearher,despitethethrumofthebarandmusicfromthegamesinsidethevideoarcade.
“Now,Iwantyoutosharethiswithyoursister,”Rosaliewassayingtotheboy.
“Aw,Mom,”thekidsaid,lookingannoyed.Hehadhisfather’sdarkhair,onlyhe’dslickeditdowninthefrontwithsome
kindofproducttomakehisbangsresemblethoseofamemberofaboybandDerrickhadseenonthefrontofamagazineat
theairport.“That’snotenough!”
“Useyourallowance,then.”Rosalie’svoicewascrisp.“That’swhatit’sfor.”
Theboymadeaface,thenspunawayfromhismotherinirritation.Derrickreflectedthatifhe’deverrespondedtoeither
ofhisparentsinsuchamanner,he’dneverhaveseenanallowanceagain,butRosalieseemedunfazed.Sheclosedherwallet
andturnedaroundtoheadbacktohertable.
ButinsteadshewalkedstraightintoDerrick,whowasstandingbehindher,hisarmsfoldedacrosshischest.
“Hello,”hesaidwithasmile.“Ithinkit’stimewehaveachat,don’tyou?”
Rosaliepaledvisiblyunderthebrightlightsoftheflatscreensabovetheirheads.Buthedidn’tmissthewayhergazedropped
downtotheamuletathisneck.
“Oh,I…uh…”Sheglancedtowardhertable,butneitherherhusbandnoranyoftheVeuveCliqueOhswerelooking
inherdirection.“I’msorry,butIdon’tknowwhatyoumean.Ireallyshouldgetbackto—”
“Oh,youknowexactlywhatImean.That’swhyyoucameoverthismorningwithyourmagicmuffins—andwhyyou’repassingthemouthere,aswell.BillymayhavegonehomeyesterdayandtoldyouJessicagotanewboyfriend,butwhenyoumetmethismorning,yoususpectedtherewassomethingmoregoingon,didn’tyou?”
Herblue-eyedgazewasdartingallovertheplace.Shereallywasn’tverygoodatthis.“Idon’t—Ireallydon’t—”
“Oh,Ithinkyoudo.Infact,afterthatstuntyoujustpulled,IthinkIdeservefiveminutesofyourtime.”Derrickmotioned
towardtheexit.“Shallwegooutsidetodiscussthis?Ordoyouwanttodoitinfrontofyourhusbandwho,fromwhatIgather,
isn’tawareofyour…extracurricularactivities?”
HergazeflewtowardBilly,whowaslaughingwithoneofherfriends.Then,beforeDerrickcouldsayanotherword,Rosalie
spunononeofherhighheelsandmarchedtowardthenearestdoor,whichhappenedtoletoutontothepier.Hefollowed,reflecting
thateveryonehadtheirsecrets…buttheoneRosaliewaskeepingfromherspousehadtobeoneofthebiggest.
Theburstofwindthathithimthemomenthesteppedoutsidewassostrong,itsnappedthedoorshutbehindhim.Itwascold,
too,butnotascoldasthesprayofsaltwaterthatcrashedagainstthesideofthedeckingwheretheywerestanding.It
hadbeennoisyinside—arudeonslaughtofmusicandseeminglyendlesschatterfromboththetelevisionscreensandthepatrons—but
themomentthewindknockedthedoorshut,allofthatended.
Nowtherewasadifferentkindofnoise:thehowlofthewindandthesplashingofwatersurgingaroundthepylonsbeneath
them,thehardrhythmicslapofthewaveshittingtheseawallbeyond.Themoonwasstillbusyplayinghide-and-seekwiththe
darkstormcloudsoverheadthatwerebeingsentskiddingfastacrosstheskybythewind.
Thefoulweatherwasn’tcourtesyofRosalie’sgift,however.Hekneweventhemostpowerfulstormwitchcouldn’twhipupagalethisfast.
Thatdidn’tmeanthatRosaliewashappy,though.
“Thisisharassment,”sheprotested,huggingherarmstoherchestasthewindbuffetedherblondhairaroundherface.“I
don’tevenknowwhoyouare.”
“Don’tyou?”Derrickliftedaneyebrow.“Wewereintroducedthismorning.”
“Whoyoureallyare.”Shepointedattheamuletheworearoundhisneck.“Wheredidyougetthat?AndwhydoesJessicahaveone?Ireported
you,youknow,forstolen—”
“Ididn’tstealanything,”hesaid.“Andspeakingofreporting,doesyourpreciousWorldCouncilofWitchesknowthatyou’re
handingoutmagicmuffinstomembersofthegeneralpublic?”
InthefluorescentsafetylightingtheDodgeshadinstalledalongthepieroutsidetheirrestaurant,hesawhermakeaface
thatwasremarkablysimilartotheonehersonhadmadewhenshe’dtoldhimhehadtosharethefifty-dollarbillwithhis
sister.
“Ididn’tdoanythingwrong.”Thewindandseawerechurningsowildly,hervoicewasbarelyaudible.
“Didn’tyou?”
“No!”Rosalieshovedloosestrandsofhairfromhermouth,wheretheywerestickingtoherlipgloss.“Rulenumberthree:
‘AtrueWitchdoesnotseekpowerthroughthesufferingofothers.’Friendshipspellsdon’tcausesuffering.Peopleenjoy
mymuffins.”
“Ithinkthatmightbeanoverlygenerousinterpretationoftherule.”
Rosaliedidn’tlikehearingthis.Herglossylipstwisted.“Idon’tknowwhyyouthinkIhavetostandhereandlistentoanythingyousay.IcalledtheWorldCouncilofWitches,andyou’renotamember.Noonetherehaseverheardofyou.Noone.NotevenBartholomewBrewsterhimself.”
Derrick’sgrinbroadened.“SotheoldGrandSorcerersaidhedidn’tknowme,didhe?Well,isn’tthatakickinthepants.”
Rosaliewassofocusedonherownindignation,shewasn’tpayingattentiontoDerrick’ssmile.“AndhesaidIshouldwarn
Jessicathatyou’renotaCouncilmember,andthatyouneverhavebeen!”
Thatmadehissmiledisappear.“Shealreadyknows.”
Thissetherblinking,andnotjustatthesaltspraythewindwasstillkickingupatthem.“She…shedoes?”
“Ofcourseshedoes.Doyouthinkthisisagame?ThefateofthistownrestsonwhathappensThursdaynight.Ithinkyou
knowthat.Ithinkyou’rewellawareofit,asamatteroffact.Andwhatareyoudoingtohelp,exceptgoingaround,phoning
BartBrewstertocomplain,andgivingoutmagicmuffins?”
“How—”Shelookedstunned.“HowdoyouknowaboutThursday?Unless…unlessyou’reheretostopit!”
“Tryingtostopwhateveritisyou’redoing?Absolutely.Youdon’tseemtohavetheslightestideawhatitisyou’replayingathere,Rosalie.Ifthewitchingcommunitydoesn’twork
togethertotrytostopthisrift,peoplearegoingtodie,oratleastgethurt—likeJessicaGoldgothurtyesterday,whenyouchose
tonearlykillher”—Rosaliesuckedinherbreathtoobject,butDerrickcontinuedrelentlessly—“anddestroyedhercar.Honestly,howdidyouthinkthatwasgoingtohelp?Now,youmaynotlikethatI’mhere,butyouhave
toadmitthatit’sagoodthingIam.Becauseotherwise,youwouldstillbeworryingabouthowpeoplefeelabouttheparty
you’rethrowingforyourtowninsteadoffocusingonwhat’sactuallyimportantrightnow:keepingthattownfrombeingdestroyed
byaveryreal,verydeadlythreat.”
NowRosaliedidn’tlookstunned.Shelookedfrightened.
Hewasn’tsureitwasbecauseofwhathe’dsaid,however.Thewavesaroundthemweregrowingstronger.Theywerebeginningtobreachtheconcreteseawallattheendofthepier,nearthefrontoftherestaurant.Somedinerstryingtoentertheplacegotsplashed,andscreamedinbothdelightandterror.
Rosalie,seeingthis,blinkedrapidly.
“I—Iamfocusingonkeepingthistownfrombeingdestroyed,”shestammered.“That’swhyI’mtheboardchairoftheWestHarborTricentennial
Committee.Iwanttobringpeopletogethertocelebrateourhistoryandheritage.AndIhadnothingtodowithwhathappened
toJess.Thatwas—thatwas—”
“Sure.Whateveryousay.Look,here’swhat’sgoingtohappen,”hesaid,verycalmly—morecalmlythanhefelt.“You’regoing
totaketherestofthosemuffinshometonightanddestroythem,andanyotherbakedgoodsyoumighthavethatcould,inany
way,alteranyone’sfeelingsaboutyou.Isthatunderstood?”
Rosaliedidn’tnod.Herface—herentirebeing—seemedfrozen,butwhetherwithcold,fear,oranger,itwasimpossibletosay.
“Andthen,”hewenton,“fortherestofthisweek,andeveryweekafterthisfortherestoftime,ifWestHarborcontinues
toexist,you’regoingtodoeverythingyoucantomakeJessicaGold’slifeeasier,notharder.DoImakemyselfclear?”
“Whoareyou?”Rosalieasked,lookingnotathimbutataroguewavetoonesideofthepierthatwassoenormous,itmanagedtosurge
overtheseawallandintotherestaurant’sparkinglot,delugingthecarsthere.Hereyesflashedwideinthesafetylighting.
“Howareyoudoingthis?”
“I’mnotdoinganything,”hesaidinatiredvoice.“Exceptstandingheretryingtotalktoyoulikewe’retwogoodwitches.
Becausethat’swhatweare,right?”
Anotherwave,thisoneevenbiggerthanthelast,heavedrelentlesslytowardtheshore,seemingtoheadstraightforthem.Thewind’showlgrewlouder,asdidthethrumofthesea.
“Now,”Derricksaid.“AreyougoingtoleaveJessica—”
“Yes!”Rosaliethrewherhandsoverherfacetoprotectitfromtheonslaughtoficewatershewasexpecting.“I’llleave
heralone!Iswear!”
Butinsteadofbreakingoverthepierrailing,thewavesuddenlycollapsed,dippingdownbeneaththeplanksuponwhichthey
werestanding,andcausingonlytheirfeettogetsprayed.
“And?”Derrickasked.
“Andmakeherlifeeasier,”Rosaliesaid.Thewordsseemedtohavebeenwrungoutofher.“Fromnowon.”
“Perfect.”Derrickdrewhiscellphonefromhispockettocheckthetime.“Oh,look.It’slate.We’dbettergetbackinside.”
“Please.”Rosalie’svoicewasweak.“Pleasetellme.Whoareyou?”
Heblinkedather.“Youalreadyknow.I’mDerrickWinters.”
HeleftRosaliestaringafterhim,hereyesburningwithresentment—andmaybealittlebitoffear.
Backinside,anewpitcherofbeerandcarafeofwinehadbeendeliveredtotheGetIn,Loserstable,aswellastwocheeseburgers.
Jessicawasdiggingintohers,andlookedupreproachfullywhenheappeared.
“Wherehaveyoubeen?”sheasked.“Yourfood’sgettingcold.”
“Sorry,”hesaid,andslidontohisstool.“Hadtomakeaquickcall.Thislooksdelicious.”
Herealizedhewasstarving.Thefoodsmelledespeciallygoodafterthesmallvictoryhe’dscored.
“Here,”Jessicasaid.Hecouldbarelyhearheroverthedinfromthebaseballandhockeygames,themusic,andtheothercustomers.
“Havesomeketchup.Orareyouamayoandfrieskindofperson?”
“Both.Thanks.”
Shegrinnedalittlewickedlyathim.“Both,huh?Ilikethatinaman.”
Hegrinnedbackather.
MarkandDinahadstoppedarguing.Theynowhadtheirarmsaroundeachotherandweremurmuringlovinglytooneanother.
“Youguys.”Yasminwhippedaroundonherstool.“Youguys,look.Dr.Stevehasfinishedtabulatingtheresults.”
AndthensheandDinabothletoutear-piercingscreams.Becausethere,ontheflatscreenabovetheirheads—andalltheother
flatscreensintherestaurantthatweren’tshowingsports—wasthetriviateamwiththemostpointsthatevening:GetIn,Losers.
“Wewon!”DinaandYasminleanedacrossSaltohugoneanother,whileheprotectivelysnatchedhisbeeroutoftheirway.
“Yay,”Jessicasaid,raisingherglass.“Finally!TotheLosers!”
“TotheLosers!”
EveryoneatthetableraisedtheirglassesinajoyfultoastasDerricknotedRosaliehurryingbackintotherestaurantfrom
outside.Thesaltsprayhadnearlyflattenedherhairtoherhead.Shehadtohavebeencoldanduncomfortable.Butnoone
wouldhavebeenabletotellfromthewayshewassmilingandchattingwithherfriendsandhusband,lookingeverywherebut
inDerrick’sdirection.
HeandJessicaandherfriendswerepickingouttheirWestHarborBrewportT-shirtsandacceptingthecongratulationsofDr.
StevewhenEsther’sfatherwalkedoverandaskedifhecouldborrowthetriviamaster’smicrophone.WhenDr.Stevetoldhim
ofcourse,therestaurantowner’svoicecameboomingoverthesoundsystem.
“Sorrytointerruptthefun,folks,”hesaid.“Butanyonewithacarparkedneartheseawallmightwanttothinkaboutmovingit.Thetide’sactingupagain,andtheweatherservicejustissuedanothercoastalfloodwarning.”
Anumberofpatronsstoodupandreachedfortheircoats,andevenmoregroaned,butEsther’sfatherputoutahandtocalm
them.
“Comeon,it’snotthatbad.There’splentyofroominthebackparkinglot.Sorryagainfortheinterruption,andthanks,
asalways,fordiningattheBrewport!”
“Well,”Salsaid.“That’sus.I’llgoroundupthekids.It’spasttheirbedtimeanyway.”
“Yeah,we’dbetterleave,too,”Dinasaid,slidinganarmaroundMark’swaist.“Ihavetogobonethisone’sbrainsout.”
“Ew,Dina.”Jessicawinced.
“Why?”Dinaasked,abrightglintinhereyes.“It’snotlikeyoutwoaregoingtogohomeanddoanythingdifferent.”
“Onthatnote,”Jessicasaid.“Goodnight,Losers.”
TheywerestrollingarminarmtowardthedoorwhenDerrick’sgazefelluponRosalie.Shewasgatheringupherfamily,too.
Thesonwasresisting,whiningthathestillhadmoneyleftonhisgamecard,butthedaughterwascomingalongwillingly
enough.BillywaswavingfarewelltotheotherVeuveCliqueOhslikehedidn’thaveacareintheworld.Rosaliewasgiving
averygoodimitationofthesame…untilhergazehappenedtofalluponDerrick.Thenshelookedquicklyaway.
Buthedidn’tmisshowthesmileonherfacewentfromlookinggenuinetofixed,likeamannequin’s.
Hewasn’ttheonlyonewho’dnoticed.
“What’supwithRosalie?”Jessicaaskedhim.“I’veneverseenhersmilesofake.Doyouthinksheknowswe’reontoherabout
themuffins?”
“Oh,”Derricksaid,takingherhand.“Ithinksheknows.”
“Isthatwhytheweather’sturned?Isshetryingtopunishus?”
“No,”Derricksaid.“Thisweatheriscourtesyofsomeoneelse.”
“Who?”
Hesmiledandsqueezedherhand.“MotherNature.”Jessica
Growbasilinapotinsidethyhometopromoteprosperityandkeepthylovertrue.Useitsleavestothickenpottagestew.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
Idid,infact,gohomeandboneDerrick’sbrainsout.OratleastItriedto.WhenIwokeupthenextmorning,hissideof
mybedwasempty.
Ifhewasabletoputhisclothesbackonandleave,heprobablystillhadsomebraincellsleft.
PlusIsawthattheclotheshe’dputonwerehisrunninggear.Ifhewasoutexercising,Idefinitelyhadn’tfulfilledmy
duties.
Butthatwastheleastofmyproblems,itturnedout.ThereasonIwokeupwastheinsistentbeepbeepbeepofatruckreversinginfrontofmyhouse.
Iliveonasmallstreet,soit’snotlikewegetthatmuchtraffic.
Andhavinglivedtheremostofmylife,Iofcoursekneweverythingaboutmyneighbors.SoIknewitwashighlyunusualfor
anyofthemtogetadeliverytheyhadn’ttoldmeaboutinadvance.
SoofcourseIleapedfromthebed—disturbingPye,whowascurledattheendofit—andrantothewindow.
Idon’tthinkIcoulddescribemyshockatseeingabrightblueMiniCooperElectricHardtopbeingunloadedfromanopencar
haulerthathadtheHopkinsMotorslogowrittenacrosstheside.Therewasalargewhitebowontheroofofthecar.
“Whatthe—”
Billyhadpromisedmealoaner.Buthe’dneversaidhewasdeliveringit.He’dsaidIshouldstopbytopickitup.
Flingingonarobeandapairofboots,Ihurrieddownstairsandthrewopenthefrontdoorjustasamanwithaclipboard
inhishandwasabouttoknockonit.
“Oh,hey,there,”hesaid,affably.“YouJessicaGold?”
“Yes.”
Icouldseethatbehindhim,myneighborswerealreadygatheringattheedgeoftheiryards,somebrandishingrakestomake
itlookasiftheyhadareasontobeoutsideatsuchanearlyhouronsuchachillyOctobermorning.Butmosthadn’tbothered,
andweresimplyholdingmugsofsteamingcoffeeintheirhands,enjoyingtheshow.
“Carforyou.”Themanhandedmetheclipboardandapen.“Youneedtosignforit.”
“Ithinkthere’sbeenamistake.”Butthereitwas:abillofsalesignedbyWilliamWalker,CFOofHopkinsMotors,listing
thecarashavingbeenpaidinfull.“Iwassupposedtocometothelotandborrowacar—”
“Thisain’taloaner,”themansaidwithachuckle.“It’sforyoutokeep,soonasyousignforit.”Heindicatedwheremy
signaturewasneeded,downatthebottom,beneathBilly’s.Likesomeoneinadream,Isigned.“That’sgood.Andonthenext
page,too.”
“That’swhyIthinkthere’sbeenamistake,”Iprattledon.“Ihaven’tboughtanewcar.BillyWalkersaidthatHopkinsMotorswasgoingtofixmyoldcar.”
“Well,Iguessitcouldn’tbefixed.”Thetagontheman’scoverallssaidthathisnamewasEarl.Pyeseemedtolikehim—though
Pyelikedalmosteveryone—sincehewasrubbinghisheadagainstEarl’slegs.“’Causehegotyouawholenewcarinstead.Even
thetaxesbeenpaid.Mr.Walkertoldmetotellyouthatallyouneedtodoishaveachargingstationinstalled,andcall
yourinsurancecompanytoaddthiscartoyourpolicy.Oh,andI’msupposedtogiveyouthese.”
Earlreachedintothepocketofhiscoveralls,thenwithdrewanenvelopeandsetofkeys,bothofwhichhedroppedintomy
hand.
“But…”Istareddownattheitemsinmyhand.“Sir…Idon’t—”
Itwastoolate.Earlwavedawaymyprotests.Heambledbacktohistruck,climbedin,anddroveaway,leavingtheMinigleaming
inmydrivewaybesideDerrick’sbeat-uprentalcar,andPyemeowingafterhiminfarewell.
“Uh,”Isaid,lookingdownatthekeys.Whatwashappening?
Iassumedthatasowner—co-owner—ofHopkinsMotors,Billygotasignificantdiscountonthecarshesold.
Butevenso.Thiswasridiculous.
“Isn’tyourbirthdayinFebruary?”myneighborAnnaliseasked,asshesippedhercoffee.Annaliseandherhusband,Ronnie,
hadlivednextdoorsincebeforeIwasborn.Theykneweverythingaboutme,exceptofcoursethemostimportantthing,that
Iwasawitch.
“Itis,”Isaid.
“SowhyisBillyWalkergivingyouanewcarwhenit’snotevenyourbirthday?”
“That’sagoodquestion.”ItoreopentheenvelopeEarlhadleftme.
Insidewasacardwithagoldroseonthefront.WhenIopenedit,Iwasflabbergastedtoseeonlytwowords,scrawledin
bubblycursive,followedbyasingleletter.
I’msorry.
R.
Rosalie.Itwasthesamecardthathadbeeninsidethebasketofmuffinsshe’dgivenme(andthatI’dthrownintoadumpster
behindOfficeDepotyesterdayonmywayintowork,evenbeforeI’dknowntheywerelovemuffins.Noanimalsorfreeganswere
likelytofindandingestthemthere).
ButwhywouldRosaliebeapologizingtome?Andwhywouldshegivemeacar—orrather,forceherhusbandto?
“Itsureispretty,”remarkedVal,whowasretiredfromthepostoffice.
“Yes,”Isaid.Itwasaprettycar.PrettierthanBluebellbyamile.Andmuchmoreenergyefficient.“ButIcan’tpossiblykeepit.”
“Whynot?”Valshrugged.“Takethatboyforallhe’sworth.”
Therestofmyneighborsnoddedinagreement.Althoughithadbeenmorethantenyearsearlier,allofthemseemedtoremember
Billy’sscreamingofmynameoutsidemybedroomwindowlateatnightwhenI’drefusedtocomedown
Awkwardthatnoneofthemhadthoughttocallthepoliceoreventellmyparentsaboutitatthetime.
Oh,well.
Iheardthesteadyslapoffootsteps,andlookedupfromthecartoseeDerrickrunningdownmystreet.OnsuchachillygrayOctobermorning,withhislongblondhair,silvereyes,andwideshoulders,helookedlikeaVikingracingthroughthemistacrossabattlefield,towardhisladylove.
Iwon’tlie:itwashot.
Myneighborsmusthavethoughtthesamething,sincewhenDerrickreachedme,pantingandsweaty,andbenttokissmycheek,
Isawallofthemsmile,evengrumpyVal.
“Goodmorning,”Derricksaid.“Iseverythingallright?”
Icouldseewhyhe’dask.Iwasstandingoutsideinmyrobe.HemusthavethoughthisNordicprotectionspellhadfailed,
andsomekindofsupernaturalthreathadforcedmefromthehousewhilehe’dbeenoutrunning.
Butallofmyneighborsonlynoddedtheirheads.Everythingwasallright.
ThenDerrick’sgazefellonthecar.“Wheredidthiscomefrom?”
“Wheredoyouthink?”IshowedhimRosalie’scard.
Heraisedaneyebrowwhilereadingit,thentookaswigfromthebatteredmetalwaterbottlehecarriedwhenheran.“How
unexpectedlygenerousofher.”
“Isn’tit?”Iglancedbackatmyneighbors,allofwhomwerestillwatchinguswithraptattention.
Butwhentheysawmygazeswingtheirway,theypretendedtobebusydoingsomethingelse,nowthatDerrickwasaround.Val
wentbacktoraking,andAnnalisesuddenlyhadanimportanttextinherphonethatneededherattention
“Maybe,”Isaid,“weshouldtalkaboutthisinside.”
“Yeah.”Derrickgavethecaranappreciativesweepwithhishand,admiringitssmoothcurves.“Let’sdothat.”
“Seeyoulater,”Isaidtomyneighbors,whoallcalledcheerfulgoodbyesbacktomeandreturnedtotheirpretendyardwork.
NosoonerhadIshutthedoorbehindusandspunaroundtotellDerrickwhataduplicitouspieceofgarbageRosaliewas—becauseIdidn’tforasecondbelievethathergifthadn’tcomewithsomekindofstringsattached,oratleastfaultybrakelines—thanIfoundthathe’dstrippedoffhisshirtandwasheadedformywasher/dryer,whichwerelocatedinthemudroom.
“What…”ItwasdifficultformetoconcentrateonmyoutrageoverRosalie’sblatantattempttomanipulatemewhenthere
wasahalf-nakedmanstridingthroughmylivingroom.
“Yes?”Hepausedtositononeofmydiningroomchairstopulloffhisrunningshoes.
“Imean,it’snotlikeshecanjustgivemeacarandthinkI’mgoingtoforgiveher.”
“Ofcoursenot.”Hissockscameoffnext.
“It’sprobablybooby-trappedinsomeway.LikewhenIgodownahill,thetransmissionwillburstintoflamesandI’llcrash
intotheSoundanddrown.”
Hecockedhisheadthoughtfully.“Idon’tthinkso.Becausenumberone,thatisn’thowtransmissionswork,andnumbertwo,
thatwouldreflectbadlyonHopkinsMotors.AndifRosalieisanything,it’sproudofherfamilyname.”
“Okay,but—Ican’tjustacceptit.WithmyhistorywithBilly,itwouldn’tberight.”
“AfterthewayRosaliehastreatedyou,”hesaid,standingup,“Ithinkit’smorethanright.Ithinkyounotonlycan’tturn
itdown,youdeserveit.”
Thenhepulledhisjoggersdown.Beneaththemhewasonlywearingapairofbriefs.Averytightpairofbriefs,whichhe
casuallypeeledoffashespokeandtossedintothewasher.
“Whydon’twetakeashowertogether,”hesuggested,“thengetchangedandtakethecarforatest-driveovertoWakeUpWest
Harborforbreakfast?Thenyoucandecide.”
Whatmagicwasthis?Iwondered,asIfoundmyselfnoddingandthenheadingtowardthestairswithhim,asifhewerealighthouseandIwassomestorm-tossedvessel,allowinghimtoleadmetothesafetyofshore?
Butofcoursethewitchinmeknewitwasn’tmagicatall.Itwashim.
Andthatmighthavebeenmorefrightening—andyetexciting—thananyenchantment.Derrick
ATrueWitchkeepstheexistenceofmagicandwitchcraftasecretfromthenon-magical,knowingthattheirmindsaretoofragile
tohandlethetruth.
RuleNumberEightoftheNineRules
*WorldCouncilofWitches*
Derrickwasintrouble.He’dknownitwhentheserveratWakeUpWestHarborlookedathimassoonasheandJessicasatdown
andsaid,“CheeseDanishandanAmericano,black.AmIright?”
Buthe’dhadaninklingevenearlier,whenhe’dbeenonhisrunandsomeonelivingblocksawayfromJessicaopenedtheirfront
doortopickupthenewspaper,sawhim,waved,andcalledout,“Congratulationsonthewinlastnight!”
Atfirsthehadn’tunderstoodwhatshewastalkingabout.Thenhe’dremembered:TuesdayNightTrivia.
Theyknewhim.ThepeopleofWestHarborwerebeginningtorecognizehimonsight.
Notjustrecognizehim,butsmileandwavetohim,andrecallhisfavoritebreakfastorder.
Noneofthiswasgood.Noneofthiswasgoodatall.
Itconfirmedwhathe’dalreadyrealizedthatmorning,wakinginJessica’sbed—Pyeadeadweightontopofhim,agentlerainpatteringdownontheroofabovehim,Jessicasleepingtheresopeacefullybesidehim.Thiswasthehappiesthe’deverfeltinhislife.
AllsignspointedtothefactthatWestHarborwasabouttosufferanotherofitsninetyyearcalamities.Inforty-eighthours—maybe
less—thistownwouldbeunderwater,onfire,orpossiblysimplyagapinghole.Andbecausethepopulationofthissleepyvillage
wasnowsodense,thistimethedeathtollwouldbestaggering.
Yethecouldnotremembereverfeelingthishappy.
Howwashesupposedtodohisjobifhecouldn’tbeimpartial?
He’dthoughtthatdragginghimselfoutforaruninthatcold,stingingrainwouldcurehim,smacksomesenseintohim,bring
himbacktoreality.
Buttheonlythingthathappenedwastherainstopped,hesawtheneighbor,andthenhesawtheobjectofhishappinessherself,
standingoutsideherhouseinherrobe,andhisheartseizedup—untilherealizedshewassafe.
That’swhenheknewthathewasn’tgoingtobeabletorunawayfromthehappinesshewasfeeling.Worse,thathewantedto
stay.Hecared.Heactuallycared.Hewantedtocomehometoherlikethiseveryday.
Exceptthatunlesssomethingextraordinaryoccurred,shesoonwouldn’thaveahome.
ThisawarenesspresseddownonhisheartmoreheavilythanahundredPyes.
Notthattherewasanythinghecoulddoaboutitatthemoment.Jessicahadgottenoverherperfectlylegitimatefearthat
Rosaliehadsomehowbooby-trappedhernewcaralmostassoonasshegotbehindthewheel.
“IneverthoughtIcouldloveanycarasmuchasBluebell,”Jessicasaidlater,aftertheirshower(andsubsequentreturntobed).TheyweresittinginsideWakeUpWestHarbor,atatablewhereshecouldgazeathernewcarthroughthewindow.“ButIthinkIcouldlearnto.”
Thisbecameevenmoreevidentwhentheserverwho’dbroughtthemtheirbreakfastsuddenlyletoutanexpletiveafterattempting
torunDerrick’screditcardtopayforbreakfast—theywereonparanormalbusiness,DerrickreasonedwhenJessicatriedto
arguewithhimthattheyshouldatleastsplitthebill,soheshouldpay.
“Internetisdown,”Stacy,theserver,groused.
Jessicareachedimmediatelyforherbag.“Ugh,again?Iknowhowyoufeel.TheInternetgoesdownatmyshopallthetime.
Butthat’sokay,Ihavecash.Wereallyhavetogo.”Shewantedtogetbackintohernewcarasquicklyaspossible,todrive
itsomemore.Theyweredeliveringmoregownsshe’dhemmed,includingGabby’s
“Yeah,butthistimetheInternet’sdownallovertown.”Stacyshookherhead.She’dpickedupherphoneandwasscrolling
hertexts.“Onlineschooliscanceledtoday.Godknowswhatmykidisuptoinstead.”
Jessicainstantlysnatchedupherownphone.
“OhmyGod.It’strue.”SheleanedforwardtoshowDerrickatextfromDina.“Thekingtidefromlastnighttookoutachunk
oftheroadwhere,intheirinfinitewisdom,theylaidtheInternetcables.”
Derrickknithisbrow.“Sowhatdoesthat—”
“Sal’sdeclareditadayofcommunityservice.Hewantsallthekidsfromthehighschooltogoovertothevillagesquare
tohelpcleanandpaintinpreparationfortomorrow’sfestivitiessincetheycan’tbeinclass.”Sheshookherheadsoforcefully
thathercurlsswayed.“Ha!Goodluckwiththat.”
Derrickconsideredthis.“Itmightworktoouradvantage,though.”
“How?”
“NowisthetimeformetobetrainingEsther—andyou—forthefightahead.”
AnxietycreasedJessica’sforeheadattheword“fight,”butsheliftedhertea.“Let’sgo.”
Whichwashow,afewhourslater,theyendedupstandinginabarrenfieldinfrontofalineofpumpkinsDerrickhadbalanced
alongawoodenfenceseveraldozenyardsaway.
“Youcan’tbeserious,”Esthersaid,afterDerrickhadexplainedtoherwhathewantedhertodo.
“Justtryit.”
Jessicawasleaningagainstthehoodofhercar.Ofcoursesheknewthefarmerwhoownedthefield.She’dsuppliedhiswife,
daughters,andonesonwithclothesforalltheimportantoccasionsintheirlives—proms,graduations,weddings.FarmerFrank
wasmorethanwillingtogivehersomeofhismoremisshapenpumpkinsthatwereunlikelytosell.He’dalsoallowedherto
parkonhisbackfieldforwhatshe’dcalled“alittletargetpractice.”
“ButIdon’twanttohurtyou,”Estherprotested.
“They’repumpkins,Esther.Andthey’refiftyfeetaway,”Derrickpointedout.“Andyoudidn’thurtanyoneyesterdayinJessica’s
office.”
“Yeah,butIcouldhave.”
Estherwashuggingherselfmiserably.She’dbeenlessthanthrilledwhenDerrickandJessicahadshownupatherfrontdoor.Dressedinherpj’sandfuzzyslippers,thekidhadbeenwatchingaMarvelmoviewithheryoungerbrothers,unbotheredbyWestHarbor’slackofInternet.Shesurelywasn’ttheonlyteenintownwho’dcompletelyignoredtheprincipal’spleatocometothevillagesquaretohelpcleanit.
“WhywouldIwanttodothat?”she’dasked,whenJessicahadwhispered—unsurewhetherornotthegirl’sparentswerewithin
earshot—thattodaywasthedaytobegintrainingforThursday’ssupernaturalbattlewiththepowersofevil.“It’scoldoutside.”
Shewasn’twrong.Itwascold.Thesuncontinuedtoremainhiddenbehindabankofgrayclouds,andflocksofbirdsthathadn’talreadymadetheir
waysouthforthewinterweredarkeningtheskyastheyfledforawarmer—andsafer—locationthanfrozen,doomedWestHarbor.
Thebirdsknewwhatwascoming.Birdsalwaysknew.
ButJessicakepthertoneupbeat,evenassheturnedupthefauxfurcollarofhercoatagainsttheicygustsofwindthat
keptsweepinginfromtheSound,tearingattheleavesthatstillremainedonthetreesattheedgesofthefield.
“Oh,comeon,Esther,”she’dsaid.“Itwillbefun!Don’tyouwanttoseewhatyoucoulddowithyourpowersifyoureally
tried?”
Thekidhadglanceduncertainlybackatthesoftwarmcouchonwhichherbrotherswerepiledwithabowlofpopcorn,ablanket,
andabigslobberydog.“Iguess.ButIthoughtthiswholethingwasgoingtobemoreaboutlearninghowtodoruneortarot
cardreadings.Areweactuallygoingtobeblowingpeopleup?”
“Manipulatingtheenergyaroundyou,”Derrickcorrectedherquickly.“Nooneisgoingtogetblownup.”Hehoped.
Foramomentthekidhadlookeddisappointed.Itwasevidentshe’dhavebeenmorewillingtocomeifblowinguppeoplewas
onthetable.
“Well,”she’dsaidfinally.“Gabby’satthesalonallday,gettingablowoutandspraytanforthestupidHarvestPrincessselectionthingtonight.SoIguessImightaswellcomewithyou.I’veseenthismovieahundredtimesbeforeanyway.”
Whichwashowthey’dendedupinFarmerFrank’sfield,thekidhavingexchangedherpajamasforherusualConverse,sweatshirt,
andleggings,thistimepairedwithadownparkaandaknitcapwitharainbowpom-pomonthetop
“So,”shesaid,squintingthroughthelensesofherglassesatthepumpkinsonthefence.“Whatisitthatyouwantmeto
doagain,exactly?”
“FirstIwantyoutofeelthemagic,”Derricksaid.
Thekidlookedskeptical.“There’smagicatFarmerFrank’s?Myparentshavebeenmakingmeandmybrotherscomeheretopick
pumpkinssinceIwasalittlekid,andI’veneveroncefeltanythingmagicalaboutit.”
“There’smagiceverywhere,”Jessicasaidfromthewarmhoodofhernewcar.Derrickcouldtellbythedimplesatthesides
ofhercheeksthatshewastryingnottolaugh.“Itsenergyispresentineverygrainofsalt,theleafofeverytree,every
animal,andeverypersonthatinhabitstheearth.”
Estherscratchedhernose.“YoumeanliketheForce?”
“Ifthat’showyouwanttothinkaboutit,”Jessicasaid.Thedimplesdeepened.Hecouldn’tbelievehe’dnevernoticedthem
before.“Theabilitytomanipulatethatenergyisonethateverywitchpossesses.”
Derrickwasstartledtohearhisownwords—oraversionofthem,anyway—comingoutofJessica’smouth.
“MagicissimilartotheForce,”shewenton,“butit’smorecomplicatedthanthat.Magicisinthesun,themoon,thestars,andtherhythmsofthesea.Andagoodwitchlearnstoharnessthatmagicandcreatepositivethingsfromit—kindofthewayaseamstresscreatessomethingbeautifuloutofabunchofcloth.Insomeways,awitch—agoodwitch—isaseamstressoftheuniverse.”
“You’realreadyverygoodatharnessingmagic,Esther,”Derricksaid.“ButI—we—needyoutogetevenbetter.”
Thekidnodded.“Becauseoftheprophecy?”
“Right.Becauseoftheprophecy.”
“Okay.I’lltry.”Estherpulledherhatdownmoresnuglyoverherears,thenturnedtowardthepumpkins.“Whatdoyouwant
metodo?”
“Tryknockingdownoneofthepumpkins,”Derricksuggested.“LikewhenyoushutthewindowinJessica’soffice.”
“Allright.”Esthershrugged.“ButI’mjustlettingyouknow,I’mprettybadatsewing.Youguysprobablyhavethewronggirl.”
Asecondlater,sheglancedatthemisshapenpumpkinsittingonthefenceposttothefarright,thenliftedasinglehand….
Therewasaflashoflight,andthenanexplosion.Bitsoforangepumpkinwentflyingeverywhere,causingcrows,perchedhigh
inthebaretreetops,totakeflightwithloud,indignantcries.
Eventhoughtheywerestandingcarefullyoutofrange,Jessicaletoutacryaswell,andduckedbehindhernewcar.
Derrickstaredatthepumpkincarnagebeforethem.ThenhelookedatEsther,whohadherglovedfingersoverherface,clearly
asshockedasheandJessicawerebywhatshe’ddone.
“See?”shesaid,whenshenoticedhisstare.“Itoldyou.Youhavethewronggirl.”
“Oh,no,”hesaid.Hissmilewaswide.“Weabsolutelyhavetherightgirl.”Jessica
Acrowflyingsouthmeansgoodfortuneisabout.
Acrowflyingnorthmeanstroublecomesforth.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
“Idon’tunderstandit,”Esthersaid.“I’veneverbeenabletodothatbefore.Notlikethat.”
“It’sbecauseofher,”Derricksaid.
ItwasaminuteorsobeforeIrealizedhewastalkingaboutme.BothheandEstherwerestaringinmydirection.
“Me?”Ishookmyhead.“Oh,no.Ihadnothingtodowiththis.”
Ilookeddownatthebitsofshatteredgourdonthecold,hardground.Therewerepumpkinseedseverywhere.Itwasgoingto
beimpossibletocleanup.IhopedFarmerFrankwouldn’tmindthemesswe’dmade.Maybecrowslikedpumpkinguts?
“Youhaveeverythingtodowiththis,”Derricksaid.Hisvoicesoundedunnaturallyloud,butonlybecauseithadgrownquietinthefield.Thecrowshadstoppedtheiroutragedshriekingand,strangely,therewerenootherbirdsflyingoverhead.Eventhewindseemedtohavedieddown.“‘WhentheBringerofLightisjoinedbytheChosenOne,herpowerwillincreasetenfold.’”
IglancedatEsthertoseewhatshethoughtofthis,andsawthatanenormousgrinhadbrokenoutacrossthegirl’sface.
“Cool,”shesaid.“Let’sdoitagain!”
Andsoshedid.
WiththeexceptionofRosalieHopkins,I’dneverseenanyonewithpowersasstrongasEsther’s.
Butshewassocasualaboutit.Justawaveofherhand,thenboom!Aflash,andapumpkinexplodedtobits.
“Wasthatokay?”she’dask.“Howwasthat?Wantmetodoanotherone?”
Boom!Therewentanotherone.
WhenDerrickaskedhertolevitateapumpkininstead,noproblem.Suddenlyoneofthepumpkinswasfloatingacrossthefield,
threefeetintheair,seeminglywithoutanyeffortonEsther’spartatall.ItwasagoodthingFarmerFrankdidn’tchoose
thatmomenttowanderovertoseewhatwewereupto,sincewhatEstherwasuptomighthaveblownhismiddle-aged,firmly-rooted-in-reality
mind.
WhatEsthercouldn’tseemtodo,however,wasconcentrateonwhatshewasdoingforverylong.Thesecondhercellphonechirped—which
itdidconstantly,becausethoughtheInternetwasdown,therewasnothingwrongwiththelocalcelltowers—shepulledit
fromherpockettolookatthescreen.WhileIdidn’texactlyblameher—IwasgettingconstantcallsfromBeccasincewecouldn’t
doanycreditcardtransactionsatEnchantments—thisdidcauseanythingEstherwaslevitatingtofalltothehardgroundwith
asplat,ornearlycollidewithmynewcar.
Mostofthetime,thetextsshewasgettingwerefromGabby,askingEstherifshelikedGabby’shair,herspraytan,hermakeup,hernails,allsentwithaccompanyingphotosthatEstherwasrequiredtoscrollthroughandlikeorotherwiseexpressanopinionon.Everythingweweredoinginthefieldhadtoshutdownuntiltheserepliesweremade.
“Can’tyoudoanythingtostopthis?”DerrickwhisperedtomewhenEstherbeganrecordingherselftellingGabbyabouthow
gorgeousshelookedinthedressI’ddroppedbyforherthatmorning.
“Stopwhat?”Iwastextingmybrotheraphotoofmynewcar.
“Thechitchattingaboutthehairandclothesandmakeup.Whatwe’redoinghereisactuallyimportant.”
“Um,excuseme,whatthosetwoaredoingisactuallyimportant,too.Firstofall,they’reacouple.Peoplewholoveeach
othersharethings.Andsecondly,peoplearealwaystryingtobrushoffthethingsthatwomenlove,likefashionandmakeup,
assuperficialorfrivolous.Butthey’renot,becauseforsomepeople,thosethingsarearmortheyputontofeelmoreconfident
inaworldthatcansometimesfeelcruel.They’retransformativeandempowering.”
Derrick’seyebrowswereasfurrowedasthefieldwewerestandingin.“I’msorry.Igetitnow.Butcanyounotseethatmaybe
rightnowisn’tthebesttimeforthosediscussions?Inadayortwo,allofthislandwillmostlikelybeunderwater.Andthenit
isn’tgoingtomatterwhatcolorGabby’shairis.”
“Um.”Iloweredmyphone.“Goodpoint.Esther?”
Shelookedupfromherscreen.“Yeah?”
“Weneedtoconcentrateondoingmagicstuffrightnow.”
“Sorry.”Estherslippedherphonebackintoherpocket.“Gabbyhasananxietydisorder.SometimesshefreaksoutifIdon’t
respondrightaway.”
“It’sfineforyoutocallyourfriend,”Derricksaid.Icouldtellfromhisconciliatorytonethathefeltbadforhisearliercomplaintabouttheirchitchattingandwastryingtomakeamends.Itwassocute.“Butweneedtoknowthatifthingsgotohell—andImeanthatliterally—inthenextforty-eighthours,you’llbeabletodefendyourself.”
Esther’sfacepuckeredwithworry.“Why?Whereareyougoingtobe?”Shewaslookingstraightatme.
“I’llbearound,”Isaidquickly.“Ofcourse.ButI’mnottheBringerofLight.Youare.”
“You’retheonethey’regoingtocomeafter,Esther,”Derricksaid.Inoticedhowtactfullyheavoidedexplainingwhotheywere.Demons?OrRosalieandherfriends?IstilltendedtofavorRosalie,despitehergenerousgiftfromthismorning.“So
weneedtoknowyoucanprotectyourself.”
“Oh,Icanprotectmyself,allright,”Esthersaid,herworriedlooksuddenlyreplacedwithaconfidentgrin.Shenoddedat
astraypumpkinthathadfallendangerouslyclosetomynewcarasshe’dbeenlevitatingit.“Seethatrightthere?”
“Esther.”Thepumpkinwasalsodangerouslyclosetome.Derrickflungaprotectivearmaroundme.“Don’t—”
“Getready,”shesaid.“Getset…”
“Wait,Esther!”Icried.
“Go!”
Ididn’tseewhathappenednext,becausetheflashoflightwassobright,itseemedtofilltheentirefield.Plus,Derrick
hadthrownbotharmsaroundme,blockingmyview.Forasecond,allIcouldseewastheinteriorliningofhisjacket,and
allIcouldsmellwasleather…andburntpumpkin.
Whenhefinallydroppedhisarmsandstraightened,thelightwasgone…andsowasthegourd.Allthatwasleftwasa
smallgapingholeinFarmerFrank’sfield,withastreamofsmokerisingfromit.Therewasn’tevenasingleseedtobefound.
Mynewcarwasfine,though,andsowasI.AndsowasEsther,whowasgrinningeartoearatheraccomplishment.
“Okay,”Derricksaid,lookingresigned.“Ithinkit’stimetocallitquitsfortheday.”
Estherwasalreadyslidingherphonebackintoherpocket.“Good,”shesaid.“BecauseIneedtogethomeandchange.Gabby’s
parentsreservedatablefortonightattheYachtClub.I’msupposedgowiththemtobeatthisselectionthingandsupport
her,sincethere’snowayshe’sgonnagetpicked.ThenhopefullythiswholeHarvestPrincessthingwillbeover,andstuff
cangobacktonormal.”
“Iwouldn’tbesosure.”Derrickwasstaringatthehorizon.WhenIfollowedthedirectionofhisgaze,Isawthathewas
lookingtowardthetreetops.Almostallofthebrightredandyellowleaveshadbeenstrippedawaybythecoldoceanbreeze.
Intheirplacesathundreds—maybethousands—ofcrows.Theirblackfeathershunchedagainstthewind,theyclungtothenaked
branches,peeringdown…atus.
“Whyaretheresomanyofthem?”Estherwhispered—althoughneitherofushadtoldhertolowerhervoice.“Whataretheydoingupthere?”
“Waiting,”Derricksaid.
“Forwhat?”
“Crowsarescavengers.”HeputoutbothhisarmsandbeganslowlyinchingEstherandmetowardthecar.“They’lleatjust
aboutanything.Buttheirfavoritefoodiscarrion.”
Estherwrinkledhernose.“What’sthat?”
“Decayingflesh.”
Iswallowednervously.“Sotheythinkthere’sgoingtobealotofthatlyingaroundWestHarborsoon?”
“Inmyexperience?”Derricknoddedsomberly.“Yes,theydo.”Jessica
Blueisthecommoncolor.Wearbluetowinthetrust—andhearts—ofothers.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
“That’swhatyou’rewearing?”IaskedwhenDerrickcamedownmystairsinhisusualblackjeansandleathermotorcyclejacket.
“Why?”Helookeddownathimself.“What’swrongwithit?”
“Nothing’swrongwithit.ButtheBringerofLight’sgirlfriendmightbegettingcrownedHarvestPrincesstonight.I’dhave
thoughtyou’dgetdressedupalittle.”
“Ididdressupalittle.”Hepluckedathisblacklong-sleevedhenley.“Ichangedmyshirt.”Thenhisgazefellonme.“Oh.Isee.”
Hecametherestofthewaydownthestairs,tookoneofmyhandsintohis,thenspunmearound,causingmyfullskirtto
twirlaroundme.“Youlookbeautiful.NowIfeelstupid.”
“No,you’refine.Youlookgreat.”Iwastheonewhofeltstupid.Hewasjustbeingnice,whereasIhadsnarkedathim.Oneoftheunfortunatethingsaboutmygiftwasthatitdidn’tworkonmyself.Prosperityspells?Yes.Mybankaccountwasfull,andEnchantments,evenwithoutbeingabletotakecreditcards,wasdoingrecordbusiness,thankstothecrowdscominginfortheTricentennialFestival.
Buttheabilitytodesignagownthatlookedgreatonmyself?NotaskillthatIpossessed.EverythingIownedcameoffthe
rackfromthediscountoutlets—includingwhatIwaswearing,amidnightbluevelvetminidresswithacorset-inspiredwaistline,
long,drapeysleeves,andafullskirt.
Iwasgreatatmakingmoneybytellingotherpeoplewhattowear.WhatIwasn’tgreatatwasmuchofanythingelse.
“We’dbetterhurryifwewanttogetthereontime,”Isaid,droppinghishandandthesubject,andreachingformyhandbag
andcoat.
“Howcomeyoucan’ttakeacompliment?”Hereachedformeagain,hisfingersskimmingthemanybuttonsalongthedress’swaistline.
“Oh,Ican,”Iassuredhim.Lie.“I’mjustworriedaboutthedresscode.”
“There’sadresscode?”
“Yes,ofcourse.It’stheYachtClub.”
“HowamIsupposedtoknowwhatpeopleweartoayachtclub?”
“Ishouldhavetoldyou.It’sfancy.It’sformembersonly.”
“Areyouamember?”
“No.WhatwouldIbedoing,joiningayachtclub?DoIlooklikesomeonewhoownsayacht?”
Hisgazeflickedovermyblacklacepatternedhoseandplatformboots.Iwon’tlie:therewassomeheatthere.Thatwasmore
flatteringthananyverbalcomplimenthecouldhavegivenme.“Maybe.”
“Theanswerisno.No,Idonot.Andneitherdoyou.Butit’stoolatetochangenow.”Andthetruthwas,Ididn’treallywanthimto.Icouldn’twaittoseewhatalltheWestHarboryachtiesmadeofDerrick,withhislonghairandblackleathermotorcyclejacketandboots.“Comeon.Let’sgo.”
Pye’scriesattheunfairnessofbeinglockedinsidethehouseforyetanothernightfollowedustomycar,buttherewas
nowayIwaslettinghimroamfreely.Notwhenthemoonwasnearlyfull,anotherkingtidewaspredicted,andtherewererumors
ofmorewolfsightings.SomeoneclaimedtohaveseenoneintheDairyQueenparkinglotaftermidnight—astrangeplacefor
awolftohangout—whilesomeoneelseinsistedthey’dseenseveraloverbythehighschool.
GoodthingSalhadgivenupandcanceledschoolfortherestoftheweekafterlearningthenewlyresoddedfootballfield
hadbeenflooded.NobodyhadbeenthatenthusiasticaboutattendingclassduringTricentennialWeekinthefirstplace.Who
wasgoingtowanttoshowupwithabunchofapexpredatorsontheloose?
“Sowe’reonlygoingtothistosupportEsther,”IsaidtoDerrickasIsteeredBluebell2intotheYachtClubparkinglot.
“Andshe’sonlygoingtosupportGabby.Assoonasthetwoofthemareoutofthere,we’reout,too.Right?”
“Ofcourse.”Derrickwasfrowning.“Whywouldwestay?”
“Becausepeoplewilltrytomakeus.”
“What?”Helookedasalarmedasifinsteadofpeople,I’dsaiddemons.“Why?”
“Theywantmetojoin.”IpulledintoaparkingspacemarkedVisitorandswitchedofftheengine.“Theyusedtonotallow
membershipstoJewsandobviouslynotwitches,butIguesstheycan’taffordtobechoosyanymore.Membershipshavegoneway
down,probablybecausethey’reaskingfortwentygrandayeartojoin.”
Derrick’ssilvereyeswidened.“Whatkindofplaceisthis?”
“TheoneplaceonearthevenworsethantheWorldCouncilofWitches.”
TheYachtClubwaslocatedrightontheSound—obviously,sincepeopledockedtheiryachtsintheadjoiningmarina—andthescentofseawasstrongenoughtopermeateeventhenewcarsmellinsideBluebell2.Icouldhearwavessloshingagainstthenearbypier,aswellasthemoredistanttinkleofthelivejazztrioinsidethesingle-story,mostlyglassstructurethathousedtheclub.Theoriginalbuildinghadbeendestroyedbyanor’easterbackinthe1950s,andthemembershadrebuiltinthestylethatwaspopularbackthen.
“Soahellscape,”Derricksaid.“We’reabouttoenterahellscape.”
Ismiledandwinkedathim.“Comeon.Let’sgo.”
ObviouslyI’vebeentotheYachtClubbefore.Mark’sparentsjoinedforared-hotsecondbackwhentheirrestaurantfirst
tookoff.Mr.Giovannithoughtthatgivinghiswifeaneveningouteverynowandthen,withsomedinneranddancing,would
benice,andMark’ssistersweredelightedbytheprivateoutdoorpool.
ThenMrs.Giovannitastedthefood.Theensuingbattletogetherfamily’smembershipfeebackwaslikenothingConnecticut
hadseensince—well,possiblythewitchtrialsofthesixteenhundreds.TheWestHarborYachtClubwasstilltryingtorecover
fromMamaGiovannihavinggonescorchedearthonit.
Eversince,wheneverIenteredthebuilding,Ifeltalittlechilldownmyspine.IhadafeelingDerrickmighthavefelt
it,too,sincewhenheheldthedooropenformeandIshiveredgoingintothewarmbuilding,helookeddownatmewitha
quizzicalexpressiononhisface.
ButbeforeIcouldexplain,Rosaliewastherebeforeus,atabletinherhandandahands-freeBluetoothheadsetcurledover
oneear.
“Jessica!”shecried,lookingstartled,herblueeyesasbrightandshinyasthefloor-lengthgownshewaswearing.“Youcame!I’mso…happytoseeyou.”
“Thanks.I’m…happytoseeyou,too.”BeforeIknewwhatwashappening,aglassofchampagnehadbeenthrustintomy
handfromthetrayofanearbywaiter,who’dbeenpassingby.
“What?”Rosalieasked.
“IsaidI’mhappytoseeyou—”
“No,notyou,sorry.”Rosaliereacheduptotouchherearpieceandspoketowhoeverwasontheotherendofthecallshewas
receiving.“No,that’snotwhereIsaidIwantedthem.Iwantthemfrontofthestage.Frontofthestage.”
“Okay,”Isaid,salutingherwiththechampagne.“Well,we’lljust—”
Butshereachedoutandgrippedmyarm.“No,wait.”Intotheheadset,shesaid,“That’sright.”Thentome,shesaid,“Did
yougetit?”
Forasecond,Ididn’tknowwhatshewastalkingabout.ThenIrealized.“Oh,thecar!Yes!Thankyou.”Itwaskillingme,
butIhadtodoit.“Thatwasverykindofyou.AndBilly.Itwaskindofbothofyou.Youdidn’thaveto.”
Shedidhaveto.Shereallydid.
“I’mgladyoulikeit.”Rosaliesmiledfrostily—thoughforsomereasonIfeltitwasmoreatDerrick,standingbehindme,
thanatme.“I’msoglad.ItseemedliketheleastBillyandIcoulddoafterallofyourrecent…troubles.”
Hmmm.SameoldRosalie.
“Yeah,well,itwasreallyniceofyou,”Isaid.“Goodtoknowwecanletbygonesbebygones.”
“Ofcoursewecan.”RosaliewasaschillyastheiceprincessfromFrozen.“Andthankyouforcoming.Ithinkyou’rebothgoingtoenjoywhatI’vegotinstoreforyoutonight.”
Ididnotlikethesoundofthat.IcouldtellbythecrookofhismouththatDerrickdidn’t,either.
ButbeforeIcouldaskRosaliewhatshemeant,atallolderwomaninawine-coloredjacketandwide-leggedtrousersuit—that
Ihadsoldtoher—camehurryingoverfromthebar.
“Jessica!”shecried.“Iwasn’texpectingtoseeyouhere!Howareyou?”
“I’mfine,howareyou,Mayor?”IraisedmyeyebrowsatDerricktomakesurehecaughtmyemphasisonthewordmayor.Henoddedsubtlyback.“DidyourwifegiveyoutheletterI—”
Herbrighteyestwinkledatme.“Ofcourseshedid.Whatalittlego-getteryouhaveinthatmenteeofyours!NextthingI
know,she’llbegunningformyjob.”
Ilaughed.Shehadnoidea.“Well,Idon’tknowaboutthat.”Esther’saspirationswereprobablyfarhigher.President,maybe.
“MayorDunleavy,mayIintroduceyoutoDerrickWinters?”
“Howlovelytomeetyou.”Themayor’sgazerangedacrossDerrickthewayPye’sgazerangedacrossbirdshesawoutthewindow.
Hewasn’tsomethingshewantedtoeatsomuchasthoroughlytearapartandinternallyexplore.“I’veheardsomanygoodthings
aboutyou.You’vereallythrownthepeopleofthistownintoatizzy,haven’tyou?”
Fortunatelyitwassoloudinthebar,thankstothecrushofpeopleandtheverynoisyjazztrio,thatIwassureDerrick
couldn’thearathingshewassaying.Heonlysmiledpolitely,whichseemedtopleasetheolderwoman.
“Here,letmegetyoubotharealdrink,”themayorsaid.“Randy.”Themayorwavedinthedirectionofthebarman.“Randy,
twomorevodkasodas,please.”
“Oh,noneed,MadamMayor,”Isaidquickly.“We’reveryhappywith—”
Butitwastoolate.Twovodkasodasappearedonthebarandwerequicklysnatchedupbyabroad-shoulderedmaninatuxedo.Becausehewasstandingwithhisbacktous,Ididn’tseewhohewasuntilheturnedaround.
Billy.
“Yourdrinks,MadamMay—”HefrozeuponseeingmeandDerrick,thegrinhe’dbeenwearingvanishingcompletely.Heseemed
topalebeneathhisspray-ontan.“Jess.I—Ididn’tknowyouwerecomingtothis.”
“Oh,well.”Iplasteredasmileacrossmyface.“Youknowme.I’lldoanythingtosupporttheyouthofWestHarbor.”
“Yeah.Sure.Ofcourse.”Hehandedoneofthedrinkstome,andtheothertoDerrick.“Hey,bro.”
“Thanks,man,”Derricksaid,cheerfully.
Thetwoofusstoodthere,adrinkineachhand,stillinourcoats,mewithaneveningbagdanglingfrommywrist,while
Istruggledtofigureoutwhattosay.Thankyouforthecarseemedinadequate.Doyouknowyourwifeisawitchwhotriedtomurderme?seemedlikeoverkill.
FortunatelyRosalie,afewfeetaway,gotasignaloverherheadset,andsuddenlybangedonhertablet.
“Everyone?Everyone!”Rosalie’syearsofcheerleadinghadtaughtherhowtouseherdiaphragmtoprojecthervoice,soshe
couldeasilybeheardoverthejazztrioandallofthevoicesinthebar.“We’rereadytobegin.Ifyoucouldalltakeyour
seats…”
IwasmorethanhappytofollowthecrowdintotheYachtClub’sdiningroom,whereEsther,lookingtallandelegantinslim-fitting
blacktrousers,whiteblouse,and,forachangeofpace,pink-sequinedConverse,gesturedtomefromatablewhereshewas
sittingwithawomanwholookedlikeGabby’solder,plumpertwin.
“Overhere,”Esthercalled,wavingurgently,asiftherewassomewayDerrickandImightmissher.
“Hi,Esther,”Isaid,whenwereachedher.“Wewerejusttalkingaboutyou.Themayorgotyourlet—”
“That’sgreat.Couldyousithere?”Estherpattedtheseatofthechairbesideher,andthen,whenIloweredmyselfintoit,
hissedinmyear,“Gabby’sdadisstuckonthetrainfromthecity.There’sfloodingonthetracks.He’stryingtogethere
asfastashecan,butfornow,onlyhermomcouldcome.Gabby’sreallyupset.”
“Oh,no.”Iputdownmydrinksandmybag,thenpeeledoffmycoatandintroducedmyselfandDerricktoGabby’smother.
Sheshookbothourhands,butseemedespeciallythrilledwhenDerrick’sfingersgrippedhers.Ididn’thavetobeagenius
toguesswhy.Thepoorwomanlookedlostandalittleoutofplaceinthebigroomwheresheseemedtoknownooneexcept
Esther,andthensuddenly,ahandsomeguywithawarmgripslippedheranelectricmickey?Bliss.
Especiallywhenhefolloweditupwithagrave,“Youhavealovelydaughter,Mrs.Aquino.”
“Oh,thankyou,”shefluttered.Thereweretwobottlesofwineonthetable,redandwhite,toaccompanythecomingmeal,
butMrs.Aquinohadn’ttouchedeither.She,likeEsther,wasonlydrinkingcranberryjuice.“Andthankyou,MissGold,so
muchforthedress.Gabriellalovesit.It’sjustsuchashameherfathercan’tbehere.Butthenagain,ifshedoesn’twin,
Isupposeit’sjustaswell.Iknowhowmuchhe’dhatetheideaofherbeinghumiliated—”
“Shewon’tbe,”Esthersaidfirmly.Isawherhand,slenderandbrownagainstthestarkwhitetablecloth,ballintoafist.
“She’sgoingtowin.She’dbetterwin,or—”
Theflowersinthedecorativecenterpiecebegantotremble,andthesaltandpeppershakerstinkledagainstoneanother.I
laidahandoverEsther’sfistandsaid,quietly,“It’sallright.”
Theflowersstilled.Thetinklingstopped.Esthertookasipofhercranberryjuice,likenothinghadhappened.
Butsomethinghadhappened,allright.Iwastheonlyonewho’dnoticed,sinceDerrickwasbusyscanningtheroom(probably
fordemons),andGabby’smotherwastoonervoustofocusonanythingexceptthestageinfrontofus.
Whichwaswhy,whenRosaliesteppedontoitasecondlater,Mrs.Aquinowasthefirsttonotice.Shereachedouttograsp
mywristwithanexcitedsqueak.
“Oooh,”shecried.“It’sstarting!”
“Ladiesandgentlemen.”Rosalieseemedanxious.Shewasbarelygivingherguestsachancetotaketheirseats,letalonethe
waitstaffachancetopassoutthefirstcourse—amesclunsaladsosadlooking,itwouldhavesentMamaGiovanni’sheadspinning—before
takingthepodiumonthestageatthefrontoftheroom.“WelcometoourfirstannualHarvestPrincessPageant,incelebration
ofWestHarbor’sTricentennial.”
Rosaliepausedforbothemphasisandthesmatteringofapplauseshe’dknownwasgoingtofollowthewordTricentennial.ItooktheopportunitytoleanovertosaytoMrs.Aquino,“I’msorryyourhusbandisn’thereyet,butI’msureGabbyis
goingtodojustfine.Andplease,callmeJessica.”
Mrs.Aquinogrinnedandpointedatherself.“I’mAnna.”
“Yourdonationsarewhat’smadeallofthispossible,”Rosaliewenton.“Becauseofyou—andofcoursethegenerosityofboth
HopkinsMotorsandWalkerHardware”—IsawBilly,atatablenearthefrontoftheroomwithbothofhischildren,beamwith
pride—“nineofthetrulyremarkableyoungwomenwhowillbeonthisstageshortlywillhavemorethanayear’sworthofcollege
tuitionpaid.”
Itwasagoodthingthelightshadbeenturneddownlow,becauseotherwisesomeonemighthavenoticedhowfarbackintomyheadmyeyeswererolling.
“ButbeforeIintroducethem,pleasejoinmeinwelcomingthemanwhohelpedchoosetherecipientsoftonight’sscholarships,
atrueacademic,publishedauthor,andhistorian,ProfessorBartholomewBrewster.”
Suddenlymyeyessnappedopen.
“BartholomewBrewster?”IwhisperedtoDerrick,aseveryonearoundusapplauded.“Buthe’s—”
Derrickwasfrowning.Herarelysmiled,buthisexpressionlookedgrimmerthanI’deverseenit.Inthedimlightofthedining
room,helookedpositivelymurderous.“Iknow.”
Ihadtosayitanyway.“He’stheGrandSorcererofthe—”
“Iknow.”
Derricklookedphysicallypainedasadashingdark-hairedmanleapedfromatablenearthefrontofthestageandthensprang
upthethreeorfourstepstojoinRosaliebehindthepodium.Forsomeonewho’dfoundedtheWorldCouncilofWitchesinthe
1980s,OldBartdidn’tlookallthatold.Infact,inhisredsmokingjacketandblackcravat,helookedalittlebitlike—
“Thankyou,”hesaidinadeep,culturedvoiceashehelduphishandstostillthesmatteringofapplauseforhispresence.
HowhadInotknownthatBartholomewBrewster—atleastjudgingbyhisaccent—wasBritish?“Thankyousomuch.It’sapleasure,
honestly,tobehere.Idon’tknowwherethiscountrywouldbewithoutlittletownslikeWestHarbor—theyreallyarethebackbone
ofthisgreatnation.”
ThisearnedevenmoreapplausethanRosalie’smentionoftheTricentennial.Derrick,however,wasn’tclapping.Neitherwas
I.
“Ifwewerebeingaccurate,WestHarborwouldbecelebratingitsquadricentennialratherthanitstricentennialbecauseitwasnearlyfourhundredyearsagothatEuropeansestablishedasettlementinthisarea—”
Esther,lookingdisgusted,foldedherarmsacrossherchestandmuttered,“Morelikespreadsmallpoxandwagedwaragainst
theNativecommunitiesactuallylivinghereatthetime.”
Amentothat.
“ButofcourseWestHarboritselfwasn’tfoundeduntiltheseventeenhundreds,whenitincorporatedseparatelyfromthetowns
andsettlementsaroundit.Andlookhowit’sgrownsince!I’mhonoredtobeinvitedtoshareinyourwell-deservedfestivities.
AndwhatmakesmybeingheretonightsomuchsweeteristhatIgettosharethisgreatprivilegewithnoneotherthan…
mybrother.”
ProfessorBrewsterraisedahandtoshadehiseyesfromthebrightstagelightsashepeeredoutintothediningroom.“Derrick,
willyoucomeupheresoIcanintroduceyou?”
Jessica
Writethenameofthineenemyonpaper.Hidethepaperintheicehouse.Thineenemy’spoweragainsttheewillbefrozen.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
AtfirstIdidn’tunderstandwhatwashappening.WhywasBartholomewBrewster,theself-proclaimedGrandSorcereroftheWorld
CouncilofWitches,callingDerrickWintershisbrother?
Thiswassurelysomekindofjoke.Derrickcouldn’tpossiblyberelatedtothemanwho’dfoundedthemostdespicablyelitist
organizationinallofwitchkind.
Thenagain,Derrickdidhavethesymbolforthatorganizationtattooedonhisarm.Andhedidhandoutamuletsbelongingtothatorganizationpretty
freely.
Andhe’dtoldmethathehadalotofhalf-siblings.
Hewasn’tdenyingthatBartholomewwasoneofthem,either.
True,hewasn’tleapingontothestagetojoinhim.Instead,hewasglaringdaggersatRosalie.Infact,ifIwereRosalie,
andDerrickwasglaringatmelikethat,I’dhaverunfar,faraway.
ButinsteadRosaliewasstandingbehindBart,grinningliketheproverbialcatwho’dswallowedthecanary.
It’spossibleshecouldn’tseeDerrick,orhisglaringsilvereyes,sincethelightsonthestageweresobright,andwewere
sittingatthebackoftheroom.FarenoughawaythatwhenEstherwhispered,soundingconfused,“Derrick?Doeshemeanyou?”
probablynotthatmanypeopleheardher.
ButDerrickdid.
“Yes,”hesaid,shortly.Andtheninsteadofofferinganysortofexplanation,hesimplysaid,“Excuseme.”
Thenhereachedintohispocketforhisphone,gotup,andlefttheroom.
Everyonedefinitelysawthat.IncludingBartholomewBrewster.
“Ah,”theprofessorsaid,withaflippantsmileandshrug.“Mybrotherseemsotherwiseengagedatthemoment.Well,wecan
chooseourfriends,butnotourfamily,asthesayinggoes.”
Thisearnedhimagentleandunderstandingchucklefromthecrowd.Oh,haha.Yes,familiesaresuchapain.
“Shallwecarryon?”theprofessorasked,andpulledastackofnotecardsfromthebreastpocketofhissmokingjacket.“What
canItellyouaboutthegirlsyou’reabouttomeetthatyoudon’talreadyknowyourself?”
Esthertouchedmyhand.WhenIlookedather,Icouldseethatherdarkeyes,behindthelensesofherglasses,werewide
andtroubled.
“Aren’tyougoingtogoafterhim?”shewhispered.
Inodded.Ofcourseshewasright.IshouldgoafterDerrick.That’swhatagoodgirlfriendwoulddo.
ExceptthatIwasn’treallyDerrick’sgirlfriend.Ourrelationshipwasonlytemporary,whileweworkedtogethertotrytosavemytown,afterwhichhe’dbemovingon,andI’dbe…well,nolongertheChosenOne.IwasonlyDerrick’sfakegirlfriend.
HowmuchofwhatIknewabouthimwasfake,too?
Istoodupandslippedfromtheroom,leavingmycoatandbagbehind.I’dfindDerrick,getareasonableexplanationoutof
him,andbebackintimeforwhateverthisceremonywas.Whatwasithisbrotherhadsaid?Wecan’tchoosefamily.
No,wecertainlycan’t.NoneofthiswasDerrick’sfault.
Wasit?
ExceptthatwhenIgotouttothebararea,Derrickwasnowheretobeseen.Therewasnoonethereatallexceptthebartender,
busilycleaningglasses,andthejazztrio,packinguptogohome.
“Excuseme,”Isaidtothemusicians.“Didyouseeamaninamotorcyclejacketcomethroughherejustnow?”
“Tall,blond,chiseledcheekbones?”askedthedrummer.
“Thatwouldbetheone,”Isaid.
Hepointedtowardthedoubledoorstotheparkinglot.“Hewentthatway.Hewasonhisphone.”
Ofcourse.Derrickwasalwaysonhisphone.Whowashetalkingto?Ihadnoidea.
MaybeitwastimeIfoundout.
Iwasabouttohitthedoubledoorstogolookingforhimintheparkinglotwhensomeonecalledmyname.Iturnedandsaw
Rosaliestandingbehindme.
“Jessica.”Shenolongerworethecat-who-swallowed-the-canarygrin.Ifanything,shelookedsomber.Shestillclutchedher
tablet,butshe’dditchedherheadset.“CanItalktoyouforaminute?”
Iturnedbacktothedoors.“Nowisreallynotagoodtime.Andthatwasaveryshittythingtodo,Rosalie.Idon’tknowwhat’sgoingonbetweenthosetwo,butthere’sobviouslybadblood,andyoujust—”
“Iknow.AndI’msorry.Jessica,I’mprettysurewe’vebothbeenplayed.”
Thatcausedmetodropmyfingersfromthedoorhandles.“What?How?”
“Ithinkithassomethingtodowiththis.”Sheliftedthetablet.“Doesthislookfamiliartoyou?”
IknewIshouldn’t.IhadnoreasontotrustRosalieHopkins.Sure,sheandherhusbandhadgivenmeacar,buthonestly,
aftereverythingthey’dputmethrough,theyowedmethatcar.Thatdidn’tmakeuseven.
ButsomehowIfoundmyselfcrossingthebartoseewhatshewantedtoshowme,awarethattheguysinthejazztrioandbartender
werewatchingmyeverymove.Oooh,catfight!theywereprobablythinking.Ididn’tcare.IhadtoseewhatRosaliewastalkingabout.
WhenIgottoherside,IsawthelastthingIwasexpectingonthetabletbetweenherFrenchmanicuredfingers.
Itwastheprophecy.AphotooftheexactsamepagefromthegrimoirethatDerrickhadgiventomeaweekago,predicting
thepreventionofthedestructionofWestHarborbytheChosenOneandBringerofLight.
“What?”Isnatchedthetabletfromherhandsinordertogetabetterlook.“Howdidyougetthis?Whogaveittoyou?”
Rosalieglancedatthemenintheroom,allofwhomwerestaringatmeinalarmduetotheintensityofmyreaction.
“Uh,”shesaid.“Whydon’twestepintotheladies’roomtodiscussthis,sowecanhavesomeprivacy.”
EventhoughthelasttimeI’dsteppedintoaladies’roomwithRosalie,ithadnotgonewell,Iagreed.Ineededtoknowwhatwasgoingon.Besides,backthenI’dbeenayoungandnaivewitch.NowIwasolderand,ifnotwiser,atleastlesswillingtobelieveRosalie’scrap.
Shestartedladlingitonthesecondthedoorclosedbehindus.
“Jessica,I’msosorry,”shesaid,takingthetabletfromme,thenglidingovertothenearestcouchtositdownonit.
That’sright.TherewerecouchesinsidetheWestHarborYachtClubladies’room.Twoofthem,insomekindofretropink-and-greenLauraAshleyfloralpattern.
Iguesstheywerethereforwomentostretchoutonincasetheyfaintedfromhavingseenacircumcisedpenis,orsomething.
Idon’tknow.
TherewerealsobasketsofTampax,Halloweencandy,andhairspraybythesinks.ThoseIrememberedfromthefewtimesDina
andIhadbeenthereastweens.Apartofmewantedtoinhalethecandy,butIknewIhadtofocus.
“Rosalie,didProfessorBrewstersendthattoyou?”Idemanded,pointingatthetablet.“Andtellyouthatyou’retheChosen
One?”
Rosaliecrossedherlegsandrestedherhandsonherknee,lookingprim.“Jessica,Iknowit’shardforyoutounderstand
sinceyou’renotamemberoftheWCW.Butthefactis,hedidn’thavetosendittome.Ihavetheoriginal.I’mtheChosenOne.”
ItwasagoodthingIdidn’thaveEsther’sparticulargiftofmagic,becauseIforsurewouldhaveblownsomethingupatthat
moment.Probablythecouches.
“Rosalie,that’ssimplynotpossible,”Isettledforsayinginstead.
“Why?DidDerricktellyouthatyou’retheChosenOne?”Somethinginmyfacemusthavegivenawaythetruth,sinceRosaliewenton,knowingly,“Iwasafraidofthat.IsuspectedthemomentIsawthatyouwerewearingtheamulet.That’swhyIcalledtheprofessor.Youknow,hetoldmethatDerrickisn’tevenamember.He’sneverhadanyaffiliationwhatsoeverwiththeCouncil.”
“I’maware.Rosalie—”
“Well,ifyouknewallalong,whyonearthdidyoubelievehim?”Rosaliewasgazingupatme,herperfectlythreadedeyebrows
constrictedwithphonyconcern.“NotthatI’mblamingyou.Itisn’tyourfault.Iknowitmusthavebeenhardforyouall
theseyears,notqualifyingformembershipintheCouncil,andneverhavingbeenpartofacoven.Youwereeasypreytoanyone
whocamealongandsaidyouwerespecial.”
Ifeltmybloodbeginningtoboil.“Rosalie—”
“Butdon’tworry.”Shehadthegalltoreachupandpatmyhand,likeIwasEsther’sage.“Noharm’sbeendone.AndBartholomew
sayshislittlebrotherreallydoesmeanwell.Hejusthasabizarreantipathytowardauthorityfigures.Somethingtodowithhowhewasraised.Norespectfortradition—which
iswhy,ofcourse,hehatestheWCW.Funny,youtwoseemtohavethatincommon.”
Ichosetoignorethatlastdig.“Rosalie,whatdidyoumeanwhenyousaidyouhavetheoriginalofthisprophecy?”
“I’msureDerricktoldyouaboutthewitchtowhomthegrimoirebelonged,theonewhohiditinsideawallinahomeinupstate
NewYork?”
“Yeah.So?”
“Sothatwitchwasmyeleventhgreat-grandmother,Elizabeth,”Rosaliesaid.“TheoneItoldyouabout,whowasfoundguilty
ofwitchcraftrighthereinWestHarbor—well,whatwouldbecomeWestHarbor,butwasthenjustasettlement,liketheprofessor
said.”
Istaredather.“Yousaidshewasbanishedinsteadofexecuted.”
“Yes!Butonlybecauseasawidow,shewaswealthyenoughtobribeajudge.”Rosalie’sgazehadmovedsothatitwasonmyreflectioninthemirrorinsteadofonme.Whatitwasactuallydoingwasmovingbetweenmeandherownreflectionasshedeliveredhernews,enjoyingwatchingherselfasshetalked.“ShehadjustenoughmoneyleftafterwardtofleetoNewYork.That’swhereshehidthebookthatprophecycamefrom—theonethatsaidtheBringerofLightwhowouldsavethisplacewouldcomefromthethirteenthgeneration—mydaughter’sgeneration.”
Ittookamomentortwofortheinformationtoregister.
“Wait,”Isaid.“YouthinktheBringerofLightisyourdaughter?”
Rosaliefrowned.Nowshewasn’tlookingatourreflection.Shewaslookingdirectlyatme.
“Idon’tthinkit,”shesaid.“Iknowit.AndBartholomewdoes,too.SodoesDerrick,ofcourse.Headmittedasmuchtome
lastnight.”
“Lastnight?”Noneofthiswasmakinganysense.
“Yes,whenheaskedtomeetwithmeduringTrivia,andbeggedmenottotellyouthetruth.”
Sheliftedthetabletandscrolledtoanotherpage,thenhandedittome.Onthescreenwasaphotoofthedeckoutsidethe
Brewport.Itwasdifficulttomakeoutbecauseithadbeentakenatnight,atanoddangle,andthereappearedtobemoisture
ofsomekindonthelens.
ButIcouldclearlyseetwopeoplestandingclosetooneanother.Thewoman’sbackwastothecamera,butherhairgleamed
asgoldastheroseonRosalie’sstationeryinthefluorescentsecuritylighting,andshewaswearingthesamesweaterset
thatRosaliehadwornlastnight.
AndtherewasnodoubtwhatsoeverthatthemanglaringdownatherinthephotowasDerrick.I’drecognizethosefuriously
loweredbrowsandthatsarcasticfrownanywhere.
Rosaliemusthaveseenthedismayinmyface,sinceshesaid,“Oh,don’tbetoohardonyourself…orhim.Apparentlyhe’sdonethistodozensofwomen—convincedthemthathe’sworkingforsomesecretorganization,andthattheirtownisinmortalperil,andthey’retheChosenOneandonlytheycansaveit.Bartholomewsayshe’sbeendoingitforyears.Iguesshe’salwayshadissues.Theirmotherissupposedlyaveryrefinedandculturedwoman.SheobviouslyprefersspendingtimewithBartholomew,who’sdonesomuchwithhislife.Derrickwilldoanythingtogetherattention.Hisfatherisjustafarmer,orsomething,whereasBartholomew’sfatherwasadeanatOxford.Look,I’msorry.Iknowyoulikehim,whichiswhylastnightItriedtogethimtopromisehe’dtellyouthetruth.Hesaidhewould.ButI’mguessing,fromthelookonyourface,itdidn’twork.”
Icouldn’ttearmyeyesfromthephoto.WhenhadDerricksnuckoutofTriviatomeetwithRosalie?Andwhy?Surelynotbecauseanythingshewassayingwastrue.DerrickandIwereinafakerelationship,butnotallofitwasfake.Youcouldn’tfakethelightEsthermadewhensheusedherpowersandIwaswithher.
AndDerrickcouldn’thavefakedwhatheandIhadtogetherinbed—ortheglowinhiseyeswhenhelookedatme.Couldhe?
TherewasnowayIwasgoingtoletRosalie—orBartholomewBrewster—knowthatIhadanysuchdoubts,however.
“Huh,”Isaid,andhandedthetabletbacktoher.“Iguessheforgottomentionit.”
IsawRosalie’sshouldersrelax.She’dwon,andsheknewit.Hergazeswungbacktowardherreflection,revelingintheknowledge
thatonceagain,she’ddefeatedme—eventhoughI’dneverwantedtobeincompetitioninthefirstplace.
“I’mreallysorry,”Rosaliesaid,smoothinganotherinvisiblehairawayfromherface.“Ican’timaginewhatyoumustbegoing
throughrightnow.”
IeyedtheSnickersbarsinthebasketonthesink.NeverhadIwantedsobadlytocramsomethingintomymouth.“That’sokay,”Isaid.“I’llgetoverit.”
Rosaliereachedforthehairspray.“Youreallydohavetheworstluckwithmen,”shesaid,givingherheadacouplespurts.
Therewasnopointindenyingit.“Ido.”
“Ifit’sanycomforttoyou,ProfessorBrewstersaysLizzie’soneofthemostgiftedwitcheshe’severmet.He’sbeenworking
withherallweek.”
“Great.Thatissogoodtoknow.”Screwit.IgrabbedaSnickers,unwrappedit,andshoveditintomymouth.“CanIaskyou
something?”
“Ofcourse.”
“What’shisplanfortomorrownight?Youknow,tostoptherift?”
“Oh,Jess.”Hergazeonmyreflectionwaspitying.“Youpoorthing.YouknowIcan’ttellyouthat.Butdon’tworry.It’s
agoodone.DoyoureallythinkI’dputthelivesofthepeopleIloveatriskotherwise?”
Iswallowed.“Iguessnot.What’sLizzie’sgift?”
“Herwhat?”
“Lizzie’stalent.Hermagicalgift.Youknow.Whatkindofwitchisshe?”
“Oh!”Rosalielaughed,gaveherhaironelastpattomakesureeverystraight,silkenstrandwasinplace,andheadedfor
thedoor.“Tobehonest,we’renotreallysureyet.She’sverygoodatglamours.Heavens,Ibettergetbackoutthere.The
professor’sspeechwasonlysupposedtolasttwentyminutes!I’velethimdroneonwaytoolongaboutWestHarborhistory.”
Inearlychokedonmymouthfulofchocolate,peanuts,nougat,andcaramel.“Glamours?”
“Uh-huh.”Rosalieflungmeasunnysmileonherwayoutoftherestroom.“Luckylittlething.Haven’tyounoticedhowgreatshealwayslooks?Herselfiesarejustperfection,noneedforfilters.ShewasoutsideonthedockwithherfriendstakingsomelastnightwhenshesawmewithDerrick.That’showIgotthatphoto.Shewasworriedhewasbeingmeantome,canyoubelieveit?Soshetookthatsnap.Moreproofshe’stheBringerofLight—soprotective!Well,gottorun.Seeyoulater.”Derrick
AsWitches,werecognizethatourintelligenceisvastlysuperiortothatofthenon-magical,andthatiswhywehaveamoral
dutytonurtureandguidethem.
RuleNumberNineoftheNineRules
*WorldCouncilofWitches*
Derrickwasseething,moreathimselfthanatanyoneelse.HeoughttohaveknownthatBartwouldinsinuatehimselfintothe
situationsomehow.
ButhelivedallthewayinLondon.Whatwashedoing,concerninghimselfwithasmall-townhellrift,whenhehadthecorporate
officesoftheWorldCouncilofWitchestorun?
Notthatitmattered,Derricksupposed.Barthadalwaysdoneexactlyasheliked.
Annoyingprick.
Ashestoodinthechillyparkinglot,listeningtohiscallgotohismother’svoicemail,Derrickreflectedthatmostgrown
mengotalongwiththeirbrothers—evenwiththeirhalfbrothers.Mostofthemdidn’thavetocalltheirmotherswhenoneof
theirbrotherswasdoingsomethingunderhanded.Theydealtwiththesituationthemselves.
Butthenagain,mostbrothersdidn’thaveamotherlikehisandBart’s.
“Hello,darling,”purredhismother’svoiceinhisear.“Ican’tanswerthephonerightnowbecauseI’mbusydoing…other
things.Butifyouleaveamessage,Ipromisetogetbacktoyou…someday.”
Hismother’svoicemailmessageneverfailedtoirritatehim,whichwastoobadsincehehadtolistentoitmoreoftenthan
not.She“didn’thavetimetotext.”
“Mother,”hesaid.“It’sme.You’llneverguesswho’shereinWestHarbor.I’llgiveyouahint.It’soneofyourmanyother
sons.AndnotoneIlike.Callmebackandtellmewhatyouwantmetodoaboutit.Andiffratricideisonthetable,I’m
allforit.”
Hemadesurehisphonewasonvibratesothatwhenshecalledback,theringwouldn’tdisturbtheproceedingsinside,then
wentbackintothediningroom—onlytofindanemptychairbesidehis.
“Where’sJessica?”heleanedovertoaskEsther.
“Shewenttolookforyou,”thekidwhisperedback.“Didn’tyouseeher?”
Derrickshookhishead.Hedidn’tlikethesound—orlook—ofanyofthis.TheHopkinswomanwasgone,too,henoted.Itwas
onlyhisjackassbrotheronthestage,stilldroningonaboutpre–RevolutionaryWarWestHarbor.Thegasbaghadneverbeen
abletoresistanopportunitytolistentohisownvoiceoveramicrophone.
“I’llberightback,”DerrickwhisperedtoEsther,whoseonlyresponsewasalong,boredsuckthroughthestrawofhercranberry
juice.
Exitingthediningroom,henearlycollidedwithRosalieHopkins,whowascomingbackin.
“Pardonme,”shesaid,givinghimaheftydoseofsideeye.
Heheldthedooropenforher.“No,pardonme,ma’am.”
Shesailedpasthimwithaself-satisfiedlittlesmirk.Derrickcouldn’thelpthinkingwhatagoodpairsheandBartwouldmake.Toobadshewasalreadymarried.
Backoutinthebar,thejazztriowerenearlypackedup.
“Hey,”Derricksaid.“Didyouseeawomaninabluedresswithdarkcurlyhair—”
“Andthefaceofanangel?”thedrummersaid.“Yeah,shewaslookingforyou.Shewasintherewiththeblondewhojustcame
through.”Hepointedtowardthedoortotheladies’room.“Blondecameout,brunetteisstillinthere.”
Derrickgrinned,thenreachedintohispocketforhiswallet.“Thanks,guys.Haveagoodnight,”hesaidasheslippedahundred-dollar
billintothetipjarthedrummerwasholding.Theywouldn’tbeabletotellitwasahundreduntiloneofthemunfoldedit.
Derrickwasalwayscarefultocreasehistipbillsninetimes,sotherecipientwouldreceivegoodfortune.
Butevenwithoutknowingthis,themusiciansbeamedinappreciation.
“Thanks,man,”theysaid,andleftwithalloftheirequipment.
“Drink?”thebartenderaskedDerrickwhenhesettledontoabarstool,hisgazelockedonthedoortotheladies’room.
“Clubsodawouldbegreat,thanks,”Derrickreplied.Heneededtokeephisheadclearforwhatheknewwasabouttooccur…
Andthenitdid.
Thedoortothewomen’srestroomswungopen,andJessicaslowlyemerged,lookingshell-shocked—thoughwhetheritwasfrom
whatshe’dheardinthediningroommomentsbefore,orjustnow,fromRosalie,hehadnowayofknowing.
“Jessica.”Herosefromthestool,thedrinkthathadonlyjustbeenplacedonacoasternearhimcompletelyforgotten.“I—I
canexplain.”
Hergazerosefromthefloortocenteronhisface,andhisgutimmediatelytwistedfromthepainandbetrayalhesawinthosetwindarkpools.
“Youcanexplain?”Hervoicewasroughwithsarcasm—andpossiblyevensomeunshedtears.“Oh,really?Justhowcanyouexplainthefactthatyou’vebeenlyingtomethiswholetime,Derrick?”
Thebartender,who’dbeenstandingbehindhimpolishingglasses,tookthatashiscuetobeatahastyretreatforthekitchen,
andthenthetwoofthemwerealone…exceptforthehundredorsopeopleDerrickcouldhearlaughinginthediningroom
nextdoor.
“Look,”hesaid,takingasteptowardher,hishandoutstretched.
Buttohisutterheartbreakandhorror,sheretreatedfromhim,shrinkingagainstthewallasifshewereafraidofhim—of
histouch.
Heknewshehadarighttobe.
“Jessica,Ineverlied,”hesaid.“Ijustcouldn’ttellyouthetruth.”
“Whattruth?”Herdarkeyesflashed.“Thetruththatyourownbrotherfoundedthemostexclusionaryandscrewed-uporganization
forwitchesthat’severexisted?Youmeanthattruth?”
Hedroppedhishand.Thiswasgoingtobemuchmoredifficultthanhe’dthought.
Andthatwastheproblem,really.Hehadn’tthought.Notwithhishead.
“Okay.Yes,you’reright.ButIdidn’ttellyouthatbecauseIknewhowyoufeltabouttheWCW.Andalsobecausethetruth
issooutrageous,Ineverthoughtyou’dbelieveme.”
“Uh,thefactthatI’mtheChosenOneismorebelievablethanwhateverelseyou’rehiding?”
“No.Imeanyes.”Hecouldn’tstandthepaininhervoice.Hewantedtowalkoverandputhisarmsaroundherandsweepherbackintime,backtothismorningandthewarmcozinessofhercottage,ofherbed,wheretherainpatteredagainsttheroofandtheoutsideworldcouldn’tintrudeanditwasjustthemandPyeandherendlesssupplyofleftoversandminiaturechocolatebarsandcoffee.
Buthehadn’tbeenblessedwiththegiftoftimetravel.
He’dbeengivenadifferentgift,instead.
“BartholomewBrewsterismybrother—halfbrother.”Hisvoicesoundedasroughandasrawashers.“AndhedidfoundtheWorldCouncilofWitches.Allofthatistrue.Butit’salsotrueI’veneverbeenamember.Ihateclubs.Ialso
hatemybrother,forwhateverthat’sworth.”
Thatdidn’tearnhimthelaughhewashopingfor,onlyareproachfullook.
“ButIwassentheretohelpsaveyourtown,”hewenton,desperatenow.Therewasnothingelsehecoulddo.Hewasgoingtohaveto
tellherthetruth,eventhoughdoingsomightbeworsethanlettingherthinkhe’dlied.“JustnotbytheWorldCouncilof
Witches.”
Sheletoutatiredsigh.“Whosentyou,then?Goahead,layitonme,Derrick,I’vehearditall.I’mawitch,remember?
Conspiracytheorieshavebeengettingpeoplelikemekilledsincethebeginningoftime.Sowhowasit?TheCIA?Homeland
Security?MI6?”
“No,”hesaid.“Mymother,Gaia.”Jessica
Toridthyselfofsadness,peelthewholeofanonion.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
OfalltheexcusesI’dexpectedDerricktogiveforhisbehavior,claimingtobethesonofthegoddessofallcreationwas
notoneIwasexpecting.
Ihadtoadmit,itwasprettycreative.Itmademelaugh.
Nothahahalaugh.Butmetaphorically.
Rosaliewasright:Ireallydidhavetheworstluckwheremenwereconcerned.
“Goodone,”Isaidtohim.ThenIstraightened.Ididn’tneedthewalltosupportmeanymore.IcouldmanagethewayI’dbeen
managingforalltheseyears:onmyown.AndwithDina’sshouldertocryon.“Look,I’mgoingtogointhereandbewith
Esther.Evenifitturnsoutshe’snottheBringerofLight,she’sstillmymentee,so—”
Helookedgenuinelyconfused.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
Ismiledathim—verysweetlyinmyopinion,giventhecircumstances.ThecircumstancesbeingthatwhatIwantedtodowas
kneehimintheballs.
“Gosh,Derrick,didn’tyouknow?ThatprophecyyoushowedmelastweekwaswrittenbyRosalieHopkins’switchyoldancestressElizabethbackinthesixteenhundreds.WhichmakesRosalietheChosenOne,andherdaughterLizzietheBringerofLight—afactIwouldhavethoughtthatyou’dbeawareof,consideringthatyouclaimtobethesonoftheMotherGoddess,whoisallknowing.Oh,well.”I’dstartedbacktowardthediningroomdoors,stoppingonlytopathimontheshoulderalong
theway.“Betterluckinthenexttown,champ.Idon’tcarehowmagicyourmotheris.Ithinkyoushouldfinddifferentaccommodations
thanmyhousetonight—”
Hereachedupand,withlightning-fastreflexes,seizedmywrist,anchoringmetohisside.
“Hey,”Isaid,lookingupathiminsurprise.Notbecausehisgriphurt—itdidn’t.Thecontactofhisskinagainstminewas
sendingwavesofpainlessgoldfireallupanddownme.Hewasplayingwithanunfairadvantage,andhehadtoknowit.
Hedidn’tletgo,however.
“Whotoldyouthat?”Hebreatheddownatme.“Abouttheprophecy?WasitRosalie?”
“Yes,ofcourseitwasRosalie.Yourbestfriend,whoyousnuckoutontothedockwithlastnightatTrivia.Whoelse?”
“It’snottrue.”Hekepthisholdonmywrist.Thetinglescontinued,inpartsotherthanmywrist,unfortunately.Honestly,
Ishouldhaveknownallalongthathewasotherworldly.Whatmortalmancouldtouchyouonthewristandmakeyouwetbetween
thelegs?Dammit.“Yes,ItalkedtoRosalielastnightonthedock,buttowarnheraboutthemuffins,nothingelse.Can’t
youseethey’retryingtoplayus,Jess?”
“Whois?AndIsweartoGod,Derrick,ifyousaydemons,I’ll—”
“Idon’tmeandemons.”
“Whothen?Yourbrother?”
“Yes.AndRosalie.”
“Towhatpurpose?”
Derrick’ssilver-eyedgazehadgonehardasflint.Adrunkmaninatuxcamebarrelingthroughthediningroomdoors,evidently
setonorderingsomethingalittleharderthanwinefromthebar,butgotonelookatDerrick’ssteely-eyedgazeandmuttered,
“’scuseme,”andtrundledrightbackintothediningroom.
“Youknow,”hesaid.“Rosalieisanarcissist,sodesperateforpowerandattentionthatshe’lldoanything,anythingatalltomake
sureshegetsit,evenputthelivesofeveryonearoundheratrisk.Lookwhatshedidtoyouwhenshefoundouttheboyshe
likedlovedyouinstead.Thisisnodifferent.”
Irolledmyeyes.“We’retalkingaboutanentiretown,notahighschoolcrush.It’salittledifferent,Derrick.”
“Isit?MybrotherhasalwayshadexactlythesameissuesasRosalie,alwaysneedingtobethecenterofattention.Hecalls
himselfaGrandSorcerer,forGod’ssake.I’vealwayshadarelationshipwithourmotherthatheenvied.I’mtheonesheasksforhelpwhenthere’s
aproblemwithatownlikeyours,nothim,andit’salwaysdrivenhimcrazy.”
“Wow,that’ssofunny,becauseRosaliesaysthathesaystheexactsamethingaboutyou.Unfortunatelyforyouthere’sproofRosalie’sgreat-great-grannywrotetheprophecy.AndRosaliesaysLizzie’sawitch.Shecancastglamours.”
“Rosalie’sgreat-grannymayverywellhavewrittentheprophecy,”Derricksaid,releasinghisholdonme,andleavingmefeelingwarmandtingly…andregretfulhehadn’ttouchedmeinmoreplaces.Buthedraggedahandthroughhishairinstead.“AndLizzieverywellmaybeabletocastglamours.Butglamourswon’tsaveustomorrownight.YouandEstherwill.”
“Oh,Isee.Andthatinformationcamefromyourmother,theancientpagandeityGaia,Isuppose.”
“Yes.Iknowhowharditmustseemtobelieve,butyes.”Hespatthewordsthroughgrittedteeth.“It’snotinformationIgenerallyshare,becauseofexactlythereactionyou’re
havingrightnow.Idon’trelishpeopleknowingthatmymothermakesaregularhabitofroamingtheearthlookingforlonely,
virilemenbywhomtoimpregnateherself,andthenabandoningthebabywiththemninemonthslaterbecauseshehasnointerest
inchild-rearing,thengoingoffonhermerrywaytofindsomeotherpoorsaptoscrew.Butsheisliterallythemotherofcreation.It’swhatshedoesforfun.She’sbeendoingitsincethedawnoftimeandwillprobablykeepdoingituntilArmageddon.”
Istaredathim.“Wait.Yourmomgotpregnantbyyourdadandthenjust..leftyouwithhim?”
“Yes.”Whenhenoticedmyexpression,hejabbedafingerinmydirection.“Don’t.Donotlookatmelikethat.IdonothaveabandonmentissuesorwhateverelseRosalietoldyouthatmybrothersaid.DadandIwere—are—fine.”
“I’msureyouare.”Still,myheartweptalittleforthemotherlesslittleboyraisedallaloneonthatdesolatefarmin
Montana—if,infact,whathewassayingwastrue.“Howmanysiblingsdoyouhave?”
“Far,fartoomanytofitintoanynormalvenueforafamilyreunion,withthepossibleexceptionoftheGrandCanyon.”
Ishookmyhead.“Ireally…Ireallydon’tknowifyou’retellingthetruth.Orhowtoprocessthisinformationifyou
are.BecauseifyourmotherisGaia,thatmeansshe’simmortal.Whichmustmeanthatyouare,too.”
Hewasshakinghishead,aswell.“No.No,itdoesnot.Whydoyouthinkshekeepshavingchildren?Shecan’tbearwatchingusgrowoldanddie.Everyoneofusleavesher,intheend.”
“Oh.”Nowmyheartswelledwithpityforhismother.“Derrick.”
Itallmadesensenow….
Wait.No,itdidn’t.Noneofthismadesense.NothingI’dheardthisevening—thiswholeweek—madesense.WhywasIevenstandingherehavingthisconversation?
Thisguywasastark,raving—
Except.
ExceptthatifIbelievedmagicwasreal—andIhadincontrovertibleproofthatitwas—whyshouldn’tIbelievethatthiswas
real,too?
Becausenoneofitmadeanysense.
“ButifyouandBartholomewBrewsterhavethesamemother,”Iasked,“whywouldshetellyouthatI’mtheChosenOneandhimthatRosalieis?”
“Shedidn’t,”hesaid.“Brewsterandmymotherdon’tspeak.”
Iraisedmyeyebrows.“Theydon’t?”
“No.Doeseveryoneinyourfamilygetalong?”
“Yes.”
Hiseyebrowspracticallyhithishairline.“Butyourparentsdon’tevenknowyou’reawitch.”
“Well,yes.Butasidefrom—”
“Asidefromyouactivelylyingtothemaboutthemostimportantthinginyourlife,youmean.”
“Notactively.Itoldyou…Iconsideritmoreomittingatruththeywouldn’tunderstand,andwouldonlyhurtthem.I’mprotectingthem.”
“Oh,soit’sfineforyoutoomittruthstoyourparentstoprotectthem,butwrongformetoomittruthstoyouforyourprotection?”
Iglaredathim.“Yes!BecauseI’mnotaseniorcitizen.Andstoptryingtochangethesubject.Whydon’tyourmotherand
brothergetalong?”
“Haveyouseenhim?”
“Stopit,Derrick.IsitbecausehefoundedtheWorldCouncilofWitches?”
“Forstarters.”
“Becauseshebelievesit’sbettertokeeptheexistenceofmagicsecret?”
“Notatall.Becauseshe,likeme,agreesthatit’stooexclusionary.Magiciseverywhereandineveryone.Itisn’taninheritable
trait.ButBrewsterissoproudofhavingmagiconbothsidesofhisfamily—MomchosealittlebittoobigofalonerwhenshepickedoutBart’sdad—hemadeinheritingitthefirstoftheninerulesofhisorganization.”
IthoughtfullyfingeredtheamuletIstillworeatmythroat.“AndthesymbolofGaiaasitsinsignia.”
“Yes.”Derrick’seyesnarrowedwithregretashelookeddownatmythroat.“Shewasn’ttoohappyaboutthatdecisionofBart’s,
either.Butitisaprotectivesymbol.Ididn’tlieaboutthat.IknowIshouldhavetoldyoutheabsolutetruthfromthebeginning.Butshe—I—we
bothdidn’tknowhowyou’dreact.Andyouhavetoadmit,itsounds—”
Completelyinsane?That’swhatI’dbeenabouttosaywhenahugeburstofapplausecamefrombehindthediningroomdoors.
Thentheybrokeopen,andafloodofpeoplecamestreamingout,mostofwhomwentstraighttowardthebar.Likeclockwork,Randythebartenderreappearedfromthekitchen,alongwithseveralofhiscolleagues,andbegantakingcocktailorders.
Ibitmylip,lookingaround.IsawBillyheadedstraightforme.“Thisisn’tthebest—maybeweshouldcontinuethisconversation
anothertime.Like…tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?Jessica.Youcan’tbeserious.”Derrick’sfingerswereonmyskinagain,butthistimetakingmyhand,thelookinhiseyes
pleading.“I—”
Buthenevergottofinishwhateveritwashe’dbeenabouttosay,becausearainbow-hairedmeteorhitusoutoftheblue,
cryingmyname.
“Jessica,Jessica!”Gabbythrewherarmsaroundme,buryingherfaceinmychest.“Thankyousomuch!Becauseofyou,Iwon!
I’maHarvestPrincess!”
Shewas,indeed,wearingacrownofdriedroses,spray-paintedgold,withgoldribbonstrailingdowntheback.Althoughthe
thornshadbeenremoved,theleaveswerestillabitstiff,andpointyenoughtojabmeallthewaythroughmybraasshe
clungontome.
Still,Ihuggedherback,wincingagainstthepain.“Congratulations!”
“Itneverwouldhavehappenedifitweren’tforyou,”Gabbysaid,releasingmefinallytodashtearsofjoyfromherprofessionally
made-upeyes
“Itwould,actually.”Esther,who’dfollowedalongbehindGabby,woreherseeminglypermanentexpressionofwryamusement.
“Onlyninegirlsshowedupintheend.Therewereninecrowns.Soyouallwon.”
“Stopit,Essie!”Gabby’smotherhadfollowedherdaughterintothebarareaaswell,andnowshesmiledgratefullyupat
me.“Gabriellawouldhavewonanyway,nomatterhowmanyothergirlsshewasupagainst.”
“Shewould,”Isaid.“Andjusttobeclear,conteststhatjudgewomenontheirlooksaresexistandlimit—”
“Dad!”Gabby’sshriekofjoywassopiercingitnearlybrokemyeardrum.Shedartedthroughthethrongtowardabaldingolder
maninabusinesssuit.Hethrewhisarmsaroundfirsther,andthenhiswifewhenMrs.Aquinojoinedthem.
“SorryIwaslate,mija,”Mr.Aquinomurmuredaffectionatelyintohisdaughter’shair.
IwasstartledfrommyenjoymentofthisfamilyreunionbyBillysayingmyname.Heseemedtohavegothisfacialcoloring
undercontrol.“Jess,howareyou?Sogladyoucouldcome.Areyouthinkingaboutjoiningtheclub?I’montheselectioncommittee
andI’dbehappytoputinagoodwordforyou—”
“Uh,no,thankyou,”Isaid.“Justheresupportingafriend.Idon’texactlyownayacht.Ionlyownacarthankstoyou.”
“Doyoulikeit?”Hissmilewaswide.“Iknowit’snotthesameasyouroldcar,butithassomeimpressivefeatures.The
amountyou’llsaveonfuelalone—”
“Iloveit.”Icouldn’thelpbeingawareofDerrick’sburninggaze.
“Andyouknowyoudon’thavetoownayachttojointheYachtClub,”Billyassuredme.“Thereareallsortsofmembership
privilegesbesidesreduceddockagefees—”
“Youknowwhat?Ileftmyphoneatmytablewithmycoat.”Igavehimasmilethatwasn’tnearlyaswideashis,butatleast
Itried.“I’mjustgonnagograbthem.Butwe’lltalklater,okay?”
“Oh.”Hisfacefell.“Okay.”
Ispunaroundandheadedquicklybackintothediningroomtosnatchupmythings.Ijustwantedtoputonmycoat,makesure
EstherhadaridehomewiththeAquinos,thenheadout—alone.Ineededsometimebymyselftoclearmyhead.
DerrickandBartholomewBrewsterwerethesonsofGaia?
Gaiawasreal,andwalkingtheearth,andmakingbabydaddiesoutoflonelyfarmersinMontana(andapparentlyOxforddeansinEngland)?
Icouldbelievethatmyhometownwaslocatedonahellrift.ButtheMotherGoddess,notbeingaparticularlygoodmother?
Thatwasahardonetoswallow.
Allofthiswasjusttoomuch,toofast.IfRosaliewantedtobetheChosenOne,thatwasfinewithme.AllIwantedwasto
beleft—
Andthenithappened.IwalkedoutoftheYachtClubdiningroom,mycoaton,baginhand,andspiedBartholomewBrewster
talkingtoEsthernearthegrandpianointhebar.
No.Justno.
Thatwasnothappening.
Sure,Rosalieandherdaughter,Lizzie,werebothstandingrightthereaswell,lookingdazzlingintheirmatchingice-blue
sheaths.
AndIspiedDerrickafewfeetaway,lookingtallandfairlymenacinginhisall-blackensemble,hisgazestillburning,but
inadifferentway,andthistimedirectedathisbrother.
Butthisjustwasn’tokay.
Iwalkeduptothelittlecircleandsaid,“Esther,I’mleaving.CanIgiveyoualifthome?”
Estherlookedsurprised.She’devidentlybeenenjoyingwhateverBrewsterhadbeensaying.
“Oh,”shesaid,glancingaroundthecrowdedroom.“IthoughtI’dgetalifthomewithGabby.”
“No.”
EveryoneglancedinsurpriseatDerrick.Hisgazemetmine,andstayedthere.“Changeofplans.You’regoingwithJessica.”
Estherlookedfromonetotheotherofus,bitbackwhateversarcasticremarkshe’dbeenabouttomake,thensaidquicklyinstead,“Letmegogetmycoat,”andduckedbackintothediningroom.
“Derrick!”Brewsterheldhisarmsopenwideforahugthathisbrotherdidn’tstepinto,andeventually,hedroppedthem.
Buthedidn’tdrophisjovialtone.“Whatapleasuretoseeyou.I’dheard,ofcourse,thatyouwerehereintown.”Heshook
afingerathisyoungersiblingasifatanaughtychild.“Yousee?Ialwaysknow.Ihavespieseverywhere.Howhaveyoubeen,
myboy?”
DerricklookedasifhewishedEstherhadblownhisbrother’sheadoffwithherhands.Butheonlysaid,“Fine.Andyou?”
“Well.Verywell.SadthattheonlytimeIgettoseeyouisatfunctionslikethis.Whatdoyousaytocomingbacktomy
hotelafterthis,andjoiningmeforanightcapsowecantalk—reallytalk?Thislovelyyoungwomanherearrangedformetohavethemostspacioussuite—”HegesturedatRosalie,whoduckedher
head,managingtolookmodestforwhatwasprobablythefirsttimeinherlife.
Itwasloudinthebar,andIwasstandingafewfeetawayfromhim,butIcouldhaveswornIheardDerrickgrindinghisteeth.
Still,hisreplywastheheightofpoliteness.“That’dbegreat.”
ThenBrewsterturnedhiseyes—thesamesilverasDerrick’s,onlysomehowlackingtheirbrightness—onme.“Andfeelfreeto
bringyouryoungfriendhere,Miss,uh—”
“Sorry,”Isaid,sinceI’dseen,withaburstofrelief,thatEstherwascomingtowardmewithhercoatandbackpack.“Ihave
togo.Maybesomeothertime.Butthiswasalovelyevening.”Iplasteredawidefakesmileacrossmyface.“Thankyouso
much.”
“Iguesswe’llseeyoubothtomorrow,then,”Rosaliesaid,lookingfrommyfacetoDerrick’s,“attheball?”
“Maybe,”IcalledbackovermyshoulderasItookEstherbythearmandbegantosteerherthroughthecrowdandtowardtheexit.“Byefornow.”I’dhadtowrenchmygazeawayfromDerrick’s.Hisstareseemedtopleadwithmeformyforgiveness.
ButIneededtheonethingIknewwedidn’thave:time.
“Maybe?”EstherechoedasIdraggedhertothedoor.“Whatdoyoumean,maybe?Youaren’tgoingtomorrow?”
“OfcourseI’mgoingtomorrow,”Isaid.“Ijustdon’tknowifI’llseethem.”
“Who?Mrs.Hopkins?Or—”Shegasped,hereyeswidening.“OhmyGod.Areyouand—”
Gabbycamerushingover,hergoldrosecrownaskewonherrainbow-coloredhair.“Wait!You’renotleavingyet,areyou?”
“Weare,”Estherinformedher,soberly.“MommyandDaddyarefighting.”
Gabbysuckedinherbreath,lookinganxious.“No!Why?Isitdemons?”
“No,it’snotdemons.”Ipausedinthevestibuletoopenmybagformykeyfob.“DerrickandIarenotfighting.Wehada
littledisagreement,that’sall.”
“Howdoyouknowit’snotdemons?”Gabbyasked.“It’snearlyHalloween.MaybedemonshavepossessedDerrick’sbodyandare
makinghimfightwithyou.”
“Yeah.”Esthernodded.“AsaSagittarian,he’dbeespeciallysusceptible.Sagittariansarealwaysupforadventure.”
Iglaredatbothgirls.“It’snotdemons.Esther,saygoodnighttoGabby.Wehavetogo.”
“Holdon,”Gabbysaid.“I’llcomewithyou.Myparentsnevergetanightoutalone.Itwillbefunforthemtohangoutat
theYachtClub.YoucandropmeoffatEsther’s,ifyoudon’tmind,Jess.”
WhichiswhatIendedupdoing,chauffeuringthetwogirlsinthebackseatofmynewcarlikeIwasaridesharedriver.Themoonwasonlyadayawayfrombeingfull,sobrightinthecloudlessnightskythatIcouldeasilyseetheroadbeforemedespitemyheadlights,shininglikeariver….
Aswellasthesleekbodyofthegraywolfrunningalongsidemycar.
Yes.That’sright.
ThoughIwascertainIhadtobeimaginingit,thereitwas,themythicalwolfeveryoneelsehadbeenreporting.
Oratleastanextremelylarge,lightgraydog,lopingfastaslightning,leapingoverhedgesandunderguardrailsinorder
tokeepupwithme.
SinceIwasfairlycertainthatnocaninecouldkeepupwithacargoingfortymilesperhour,Iwonderedifthiswassome
sortofhexRosaliehadputontherearviewmirror,sothateverytimeIglancedintoitonamoonlitnight,I’dthinkIwas
beingfollowedbyawolf.Andnotonlyone.Asmyspeedincreased,sodidthenumberofwolves.Firstone,thentwo,then
four,untilfinallywewerebeingfollowed—orescorted—byanentirepackofwolves,theirsilvercoatsandeyesgleamingin
themoonlight,theirpawssilentonthefrozengrass.
Thegirlsinthebackseatdidn’tnotice.Theyweregigglingawaywithoneanother,flippingthroughimagesfromthenight
ontheirphones.Iwasn’tabouttoaskthem,Hey,doyouseethosewolvesoutthere?andfreakthemout.Well,freakGabbyout,anyway.
IwasrelievedwhenIpulledupinfrontofEsther’shouseandsawnotonlyeverylightinherhouseblazing(asusual),but
alsothatthewolveshadvanished.
They’dprobablyneverbeenthereinthefirstplace,Itoldmyself.I’dprobablyimaginedthewholething.Maybetheentire
villageofWestHarborwassufferingfrommasshallucinations.Somethinginthedrinkingwater?
“Goodnight,”Isaidtothegirlsastheygotoutofthecar.“Trytogetsomesleep.Bigdaytomorrow.”
Estherpausedbeforeclosingthedoor.“Thanks.Andhey,Jessica?Idon’tknowwhatDerrickdid,butIpersonallydon’tthinkyoushouldbetoohardonhim.”
Iblinked.“Oh?”
“No.He’snotreallythatbad—foraguy.”Sheshutthedoor,thenranupthestepstoherfrontporch,whereshewavedgood
night.
Iwavedback,thendroveaway.Ididn’tseeasinglewolfduringmyridehomeJessica
Insertaneedleintothewickofacandle,thenlightit.Concentrateonthylove.Histhoughtswillbepierced,andthou
wilsthearfromhimwithinfourandtwentyhours.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
“TechnicallyDerrickdidn’tlietoyou,”Dinasaid.
“Dina.”Iwasinmybed,alone—unlessyoucountedPye,curledatmyfeetontopofmycomforter.“Youaren’tsayingyouactually
believethiscrazinessthathe’sthesonofGaia?”
“Whyshouldn’tIbelieveit?”IcouldtellbythewayshewashuffingthatDinawasonherphoneoutside,beingdraggedby
thethreebeaglessheco-ownedwithMark.“There’snowaytodisproveit,especiallysinceyoudidn’tstickaroundlongenough
toaskOldBartifitwastrue.”
“Dina.”Ihadthetelevisiononinmybedroom—aluxuryIhadn’thadmuchofachancetoenjoysinceDerrickhadmovedin,asI’dbeenpreoccupiedby…otherthings.NowIflippedthroughthechannelswiththesoundonmute,vainlylookingforsomethingtodistractmefromthefeelingthatI’dbeenwrongtoaskDerricktofindalternativelodgingsforthenight.NotonlybecauseIknewhotelroomsweresolimitedinthearea,butalsobecausemybestfriendwasn’tonmyside.Evenworse:Imissedhim.“Areyououtwalkingthedogs?Inthedeadofnight?Withapackofwolvesontheloose?”
“It’stenthirty,”Dinasaid.“Andtherearenowolves.Certainlynonethatcanrunasfastasacar.”
“IknowwhatIsaw.TextmewhenyougethomesoIknowyou’resafe.”
“TextmewhenDerrickgetstherewithadozenrosesandyoutwoaredonehavinghotmakeupsex.”
ButalthoughIreceivedDina’stextafewminuteslater,lettingmeknowsheandthedogswerehomesafe,Iwasn’tableto
sendheroneinreturnsayingthatDerrickhadcomeoverandheandIhadhadhotmakeupsex.Becausenoneofthosethings
happened.
WhenIwokeupThursdaymorningafterevidentlyhavingfallenasleepwatchingamarathonofHalloweenCake-Off,notonlywasallofDerrick’sstuffstillinmyhouse,hishail-batteredrentalcarwasstillinmydriveway,aswell.His
runningclothesfromthedaybeforewerestillinmydryer.HisbookaboutPlutarchwasstillcrackedopenonthetableby
hissideofthebed.TherewasevidencealloverinsideandoutsidemyhousethatDerrickWintershadlivedtherefordays…
buttherewasnoDerrickWinters.Itwasasifhe’dvanishedentirely—likemagic.
Onlynotthegoodkind.
“It’swhatyouaskedhimtodo,”DinasaidwhenIswungbyherofficethatmorningtocomplainaboutit.
“Iknow,”Isaid,handingheracheeseDanish—Derrick’sfavorite.There’dbeennosignofhimatWakeUpWestHarborwhenI’dgoneinthere,though—nottolookforhim.Notatall.Isimplyenjoyedtheirbreakfastspecial.AndwhenIaskedher,Stacysaidshehadn’tseenhimsincethedaybefore,either.“ButIdidn’tthinkhe’dreallydoit.”
“That’sbecauseyou’reusedtostalkerslikeBilly,”Yasminsaid.
Dinaignoredhersister-in-law.“Look,Jess,whydon’tyoudoyourselfafavorandjustcallhim?Talkitout.Bothofyoumademistakes.”
“Ididn’tmakeamistake,”Isaid.“Heliedtome.”HowcouldIexplaintoDinahowmuchthisstung?ItwastrueIhadn’tknown
Derrickforverylong,butI’dthoughtthatwhatwe’dhadwasthestartofsomethingpromising.Notnecessarilylong-term,
ofcourse,sincehehaddemonfightingtodo.Butdefinitelyextremelyclosefriendswithmajorbenefits.“Youcan’tbuildarelationshiponlies—”
“Firstofall,hedidn’tlie,”Dinainterrupted.“Hejustdidn’ttellyouthewholestory.Andsecondofall,weonlyhave
Rosalie’swordthatshe’stherealChosenOne.Andsincewhenhaveweeverbelievedanythingshesaid?Ipersonallyrefuse
to.”
Ididn’twanttobelieveit,either,butnotforthereasonDinadidn’t.Ididn’tbelieveitbecauseIcouldn’timagineDerrick
doingsomethingascruelasgoingaroundthecountry,convincingimpressionableyoungwitchesthattheywerethesaviorsof
theirtown,onlytoturnouttobemakingitallup.Thethoughtofitturnedmerightoffmybreakfast.
“Um,Idon’tcarewhoistherealChosenOne,”Yasminsaid,brushingpastrycrumbsoffherskirt,“solongasoneofyoufixes
theInternet.I’vehitmydatacaponmyhotspot.Andbetweenthecafeteriaandthefootballfieldflooding,Sal’slosing
hismind.Thismorninghefoundoutthere’sblackmoldgrowingbeneaththeEmoDome.”
“Gross!”Dinacried,atthesametimethatthegroundbeneathusrumbled.
AndthoughatfirstIwastemptedtothinkitmightbetherift,openingayawningchasmtohellbeneathourfeet,aquickglanceouttheSistersInLawofficewindowsshowedmethatitwasonlyamassivetruckfromConnecticut’sBestCateringdrivingtowardthevillagesquare.
“Oh,yeah,”Yasminsaid,noticingmyquestioninglook.“Thosehavebeengoingbyallmorning.They’resettingupfortonight.
Youshouldseeit.OnlyRosaliewouldchoosetohaveaballoutsideinConnecticutattheendofOctober.They’vealreadygotthetentsup,incaseitrains.Orsnows.Butitlookslikeit’s
goingtobeabeautifulday.”
“Rosaliewillmakesureofthat,”Dinaagreedwithasnort.
Inoddedandcheckedmyphoneforthehundredthtimethatmorning.
NomessagefromDerrick.NotthatIwassurprised.WhywouldhecallwhenI’dtoldhimtostayaway?
“Justtexthim,”Dinasaid,noticingwhatIwasdoing.
“No,”Isaid,andputmyphoneaway.“It’sfine.Ihavetogotothebanktogetcash,thenopentheshopanyway.It’sgoing
tobeabusyday.”
Predictingthefutureisn’toneofmygifts,butIwasn’twrong.Enchantmentswasfloodedwithshoppers,manylookingfor
last-minutefinerytoweartotheball,andotherssimplybrowsing.I’dhadtocallallhandsondecktomanagethecrowds,
sobothBeccaandZahrahwereworking,aswellasoneofmyextraholidayhelpers,Naomi,whonormallyonlydidgiftwrapping.
I’devenpulledinGabby—notsomuchbecauseIneededher,asbecauseIknewshe’ddragEstheralongwithher,andIwantedtobeabletokeepaneyeonher.IhadnowayofknowingwhatkindoftrickstheWCWmightpulltogettheircandidateforBringerofLightinplaceinsteadofmine.Ididn’thaveanyreasontothinkLizzieWalker-Hopkinswasinleaguewiththeforcesofevil.ButIwasn’tsosureabouthermother.
IputGabbyandEstherinmyofficeintheback,sortingandpricingnewmerchandise.
“Youhavetobekiddingme,”EsthersaidwhenshesawtheboxesofformalsequinedjumpsuitsforNewYear’sEve.“It’sHalloween.”
“Gottakeepupwithdemand,kid,”Isaid,andhandedheraboxofpricetags.“Gettowork.”
“Capitalismiswild,”shesaidwithasigh.
ButbothsheandGabbyhappilybegantyingtagstothemerchandise,leavingmefreetoroamthestore,offeringhelptocustomers
insearchofthatspecialsomethingtoweartotheball.Likethedark-hairedolderwomanwiththeenormous—andexpensive—designer
totebagIsawcombingtheeveningwearrack.Judgingfromthebag—andhermatchingshoes—shehadstyleandtaste.Shewas
goingtobeadelighttodress.
“Excuseme,ma’am,”Isaid,makingabeelinetoherside.“Areyoulookingforsomethinginparticular?”
“Iam,”thewomansaid,turningtome.Shehaddarkeyes—expertlymade-upàlaCleopatratoaccentuatetheiralreadyimmense
size—andasleekhelmetofshoulder-length,jet-blackhair.Hersmilewaswideandbright,hertasteinjewelry—thickgold
chainsaroundherneckandbanglesatherwrists—exquisite.Hervoicewashoarse,asiffromoveruse,heraccentcrisply,
untraceablyEuropean.“Canyouhelpme,darling?”
Shepronounceditdahling
“Ihopeso,”Isaid,instantlycharmed.Purple,Ithought.Thiswomanshouldbeawashinamethystandturquoise.Somewhite,
too,aroundherface,tobringoutherlovelybrownskintone.“ButIthinkyou’reinthewrongsection.Yousee,youwant
petites.Everythingoverherewillbeswimmingonyou.”
Thewomanlookedsurprised,thentossedbackherheadandlaughed.Itwasadelightfulsound,sohappyandinfectiousthatIcouldn’thelpsmiling,too.
“No,darling,”shesaid,reachingouttolayahandonmyarm.“I’mnotheretoshop.I’mlookingforthislovelylittleshop’s
owner,JessicaGold.That’syou,isn’tit?”
Inodded,slightlydazedbythewarmtouchandevenwarmermanner.“Yes.ButI’mafraidIdon’tknow—”
“Oh,yes,youdo.”Stillsmiling,thewomanreachedoutandtookmebythehand.“Youknowmeverywell.I’mGaia,Jessica.
Derrick’smother.”
Derrick
Characterissimplyhabitlongcontinued.
Plutarch
Derrickcouldn’trememberbeingsohungover.
Fallingasleeponthecouchinhisbrother’shotelsuitehadn’tcontributedmuchtohisnight’srest,either.Nownotonly
washisheadpounding,buthisneckwasstiff.
Heknewheshouldn’thavedrunkasmuchashehad.Buthisbrotherhadkeptpouring,andDerrickhadfeltsomiserable,remembering
thewoundedlookinJessica’seyesasshe’daskedhimtostayaway,ithadseemedonlyrighttokeepdrinking.
Heregretteditnow.Especiallysincehisbrotherhadorderednearlyeverythingontheroomservicemenuforbreakfast,and
wasstillintheroom,eatingit.
“WhatIfindmostappallingaboutAmericans,”Bartwassaying,“istheirportionsizes.Lookatthis.Justlookatthesefried
potatoes.Afamilyoffourinanyothercountrycouldmakeanentiremealofthesealone.”
Derrickstaggeredintothebathroom,strippedoffhisclothes,andsteppedundertheshower.Heranitashotashecouldstanditfortwominutes,thenascold.Thenhetoweledoffandgotdressedagain.
Heusedoneofthesparetoothbrushesprovidedbythehoteltocleanhisteeth,thencameoutofthebathroomtofindhis
brothercomplainingabouttheketchup.
“IsittruetheycountthisasavegetableinAmericanschoollunches?”Bartasked,holdinguponeoftheminibottlesfrom
theroomservicecart.“Idon’tunderstandhowyoucanstandlivinginthiscountry.WhatwasMotherthinkingwhenshebegat
youwiththatunculturedyeoman?”
Derrickknockedtheketchupbottlefromhisbrother’shandandseizedhimbythecollarofthehotelrobehewaswearing.
“Wh-whatareyoudoing?”Bartdemanded,shocked.“Haveyoulostyourmind?”
“Whatareyoudoing?”Derrickshotback.“YouknowRosalieHopkinsisn’ttheChosenOne.”
“Oh,that’sright.”Bart’svoicedrippedwithsarcasm.“BecauseI’dgotoallthistroubleforsomeoneIdidn’tthinkwasgoingtobeabletosavethisvillage.”
“Youwould,”Derricksaid.“Youwouldifyouthoughtitmightresultinaspectacularenoughbloodbath.ThatwouldgetMom’s
attention,wouldn’tit?Becausethat’sallyou’veeverwanted.”
“Don’ttryplayingamateurpsychologistonme,littlebrother.Itwon’twork,anymorethanyourhealinghandsorthatridiculous
theoryofyoursthatdemonsarethespiritsofthosewhodiedunjustdeaths.BloodyNewAgenonsense.Demonsaredemons,and
deservetobesentrightbackwheretheycamefrom—hell.Andthat’swhatRosalieandIintendtodoheretonight.”
Derrickblanched.“Anexorcism?That’swhatyou’replanningtodowiththerestlessspiritsthatarecausingthisrift?”
“Pleasecallthemwhattheyare,brother:demons.”
“They’veonlybecomedemonicbecausethey’vegonesolongwithout—”
“Soweshouldwastetimecoddlingthem?AllowthemtohealandallofyourotherNewAgepiddlewhenwecouldsimplybanishthem?Iknowitmightbehardforyoutounderstand—aman
whothinksthebestwaytohonorhismotheristogetatattooofherfavoritesymbolonhisbody—butwhenyou’reinpossessionofahammer,thebestwaytodealwithanailistoflatten
it.”
“That’snothowthatsayinggoes,”Derrickgrowled,tighteninghisgrip.“AndIthinkthere’sasimplerexplanationforwhyyou’redoing
this:notonlydoyouwantMother’sattention,youwanttogetintoRosalieHopkins’spants.”
“No,thatwouldbeyou,littlebrother.AtleastI’veneverbeenfoolishenoughtofallformyChosenOne.Ialwaysthoughtyouweresmarterthanthat.”
DerrickreleasedBrewsterindisgustandwenttothewindow.OfcourseRosaliehadarrangedfortheGrandSorcererofthe
WCWtohavethepenthousesuite,sotheviewlookedoutacrossallofdowntownWestHarbor,includingthevillagesquare—now
tentedinpreparationfortonight’sball—andstretchingallthewaytothesea.
“SodidI,”Derrickmurmured,ashegazeddownatthefrontentrancetoEnchantments,whichhecouldjustmakeoutthrough
thered-and-goldtreetopsthatlinedthemainroad.“SodidI.”
Jessica
Forlonglife,vitality,andattractiveness,drinkwine.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
“OfcourseIwantedtomeetyou,”Gaiasaid,tearingatthebreadinthebasketMarkhadreverentlydeliveredtoourlunch
table.NotthatMarkknewGaiawasthemotherofallcreation.IhighlydoubtedDinahadsharedthatpieceofinformation
withhim.
ButI’dintroducedhertohimasDerrick’smotherwhenwe’dshownupatMamaGiovanni’swithoutareservationafterGaiaasked
metohavealatelunchwithher.
“Oh,Mrs.Winters!”Markcried,hisdarkeyebrowsnearlyhittingtheroof.“Yes,ofcoursewehaveatable.Youknow,we’rebigfansofDerrick’s.”
“Isn’tthatadelight?”GaialookedfrommetoMarkwitheyesthatshined.“Onedoessowantone’schildrentobeliked.It’sapitywhentheyaren’t.Idohavesomechildrenwhoaren’tverymuchadmired,you
know.It’stheriskofhavingchildren.There’snoguaranteethatalloftheseedsweplantwillflourish.Somecanturnout
tobedamagedattheroot.ButeveryonedoesseemtolikeDerrick.”
Mark’seyebrowshithishairlineatthe“damagedattheroot”line,buthegamelyescorteduspersonallytothebesttableinthehouse,thewhite-tableclothedtablefortwointhefrontpicturewindowlookingoutoverthePostRoad.
“Hereyouare,”Marksaid,pullingoutachairforGaia,thenhandingusbothmenus.“Don’thesitatetoaskforanythingwe
cangetinordertomakeyoumorecomfortable.Andbuonappetito.”
Thenhewasgone,leavingmealonewiththeMotherGoddess.
Oratleastasaloneaswecouldbe,consideringthatrightoutsidethewindowstreamedhundredsoftouristsandlocalsalike,
comingtotakeintheofficialstartoftheTricentennialfestivities.Theconstructionofthetentsanddancefloorforthe
ballhadbeencompleted,andthePostRoadwasnowclosedtovehiculartrafficalongthecourthousesquare,sopedestrians
hadtakenoverthethoroughfaretostrollinthelateafternoonsunlightwithTricentennialTricorns(cookiesshapedastricorn
hats)andConnecticutConfections(bagsofkettlecorn).Soon,GabbywouldchangeintoherHarvestPrincessgownandgoout
toofferunsolicitedfactsaboutWestHarborhistorytothetourists.
AndI’dhavetokeepEstherfrombeingattackedbyeitherdemonsorwolvesorboth.
“Oh,Jessica,”Gaiaexplainedwithasigh,“allofthisismyfault.I’mtheonewhosentDerricktofindyou.”
Istared.“Youdid?”
“Yes.Inormallydon’tinterfereinmychildren’saffairs.It’sbetterifparentsdon’t,forthemostpart.Otherwise,how
willtheyeverlearntostandontheirowntwofeet?ButIdosowantDerricktobehappy.AndBart.Oh,Bart.He’smydamagedroot.I’vehadseveral,ofcourse,buthe’sthelatest.”
Shewavedtotheserver,whocamehurryingovertorefillourglassesfromthebottleofpinotgrisshe’dordered.Shewaiteduntilhe’dgoneawaybeforecontinuing.“Hewassothoroughlyspoiledbyhisfather,hegrewuptobeconvincedofhisownsuperiorityoverothers.Nowtheonlyvoicehe’lllistentoishisown.Itpainsamothertohavetoadmitthataboutoneofherownoffspring.ButinBart’scase,it’strue.”
IwasstilltryingtodigestthefactthatIwassittingatMamaGiovanni’swithDerrick’smother,Gaia,andsohadbarely
touchedmywine,letaloneanyofthebreadshewasgenuinelyattacking.Forsuchatinywoman,Gaiahadaprettyvoracious
appetite.
“Soletmegetthisstraight,”Isaid.“YousentDerricktofindme.”
“Idid,yes.”
“Becauseyoubelievethere’sariftinWestHarbor—”
“Idon’tbelieveit,Jessica,darling.Iknowit.Ithinkthatshouldbeobvioustoanyone.”
“Andyouwanthimtobehappy.”
“Ido.Ofcourseit’swrongforamothertohavefavorites,andI’mnotsayingthatIdo,butDerrick—he’ssensitive,don’tyouthink,Jessica?”Herdarkeyesglitteredintelligentlyatmeoverthetopofherwineglass.“Perhapseverymother
sayshersonissensitive,butI’vehadmanysons,andIknowsomeofthemhave—howshallIputthis?Lackedempathy.Derrick’s
positivelybrimmingwithit.AndIwanthimtobehappy.”
“Andyouthink…Icouldmakehimhappy?”
Itwasaguess.AwildswingataballIwasn’tevensureshewasthrowinginmydirection.
Shesmiledandwaggedafingeratme.
“Ah-ah-ah,”shesaid.“Itoldyou.Idon’tliketointerfere—exceptwhenIhaveto,ofcourse.I’mnotsayingwhetherornot
youmakeDerrickhappy.That’sforthetwoofyoutodecide.”
“Right,”Isaid.“ButyoudothinkI’mtheChosenOne.”
Shelaidahandovermine,smilingwarmly.“Ido,darling.YousawforyourselfwhatEstherwasabletodoinyourpresence.Shereallyisamostremarkablegirl.”
“Sheis,”Iagreed.“Andyou’rereallyGaia?Asin…theMotherGoddess?”
Shenodded,hershiningblackcurtainofhair—curledunderjustwhereitskimmedhershoulders—swinging.“Yes,darling.I
swearit.Iknowit’sbeenadifficultpastfewdaysforyou.Years,even.AndIknowthatHopkinswomanhasbeenanabsoluteshittoyou.I’msorryforswearing—butsometimesit’scalledfor.
Butyou’vehandledallofitsoadmirably—really,veryadmirably.Andyou’veonlythenextfewhourstogetthrough,andthen
everythingwillbeallright.I’malmostsureofit.”
“Almostsure?”
“Well,noonecanbeabsolutelysureofanything,Jessica.”
“Notevenagoddess?That’swhatyouare,aren’tyou?”Whenshesmiledandnoddedatme,Iplungedon.“Thenwhycan’tyou
justgetridoftherift?Whycan’tyoupreventevilinthefirstplace?”
“Icould,ofcourse,butIalreadytoldyou:Idon’tliketointerfere.Childrenneverlearnfromtheirmistakesiftheireldersare
alwaysswoopingintorescuethem—and,frommyexperience,thatappliestoadults,aswell.You’veallbeengivenfreewill.
Youmustmakeyourownchoices.AllIcando,”shewentonwithasigh,“ishopethosechoiceswillbegoodones,andtry
toguideyouasbestIcanwhentheylookasiftheyaren’t.ButIwillsaythat,inmostcases,yourchoiceshavenotdisappointed
me.”
“By‘yourchoices,’”Isaid,“doyoumeanhumansingeneral,ormychoicesspecifically?”
“Humansingeneral,”shesaid,andletoutasurprisinglyheartylaugh.“Why,Jessica?DoyouthinkI’vebeenspyingonyou?”
“No!”Ireachedformywine,hopingshewastellingthetruth.BecauseIwasn’tsureshe’dhavesuchagoodopinionofmeifshe’dseenwhathersonandIhadbeenchoosingtodotooneanotherallovermyhousethepastfewdays.“Notatall.”
“Well,Ihave,”sheadmitted,causingmetoalmostchoke.“That’swhyIknewyouwereWestHarbor’sChosenOne—andmyson’s.
ButIonlylookedalittle.Anditwasbecauseyou’veperformedsomanyspellsovertheyears,invokingmyname.Evenagoddess
can’thelplookingwhenshehearshernameoverandoveragain.Oh,howheavenly!”Sheglancedpastmyshoulder,thenrubbed
herfingerstogether,lookingexcited.“Ourstuffedartichokesarehere.Ihaven’thadoneoftheseinages.”
“Specialoftheday,”Marksaid,proudlysettingaplatedowninfrontofeachofus.“Wouldeitherofyoucareforpepper?”
“NowhowwouldIknowbeforeI’vetastedit?”Gaiaasked,showingabitofherflirtatiousside.
Markplayedalong.“Goodpoint.Youtasteitandletmeknow.”
“Iwill,”Gaiasaid,andgavehimasmilethatlookedthewayDerrick’sfingersfelt—likethesuncomingoutafteralong
winter’sday.Markwentawaygrinning,whileIcontinuedtositthereincompletedisbelief.
Whatwashappening?Whatwashappeningtomylife?Myhometownwassittingontheprecipiceofapocalypticdisaster,andI
waseatingstuffedartichokeswiththemotherofmynot-so-fakewitchboyfriend?Amotherwhoalsohappenedtobeaprimordial
deity,whofreelyadmittedtohavingbeenspyingonme—but“onlyalittle”?
Howwasanyofthisevenpossible?
“What’swrong,darling?”Gaiaasked.“Whyaren’tyoueating?Doyouwantpepper?Howrudeofme,Ididn’tthinktoask.Don’t
worry,I’llgethim.Mark?It’sMark,isn’tit?Oh,Mark!”
“No,”Isaid,grippingthetabletop.“Idon’twantpepper.Ijust…Iknowitprobablysoundsrude,butIjust…I’dlovesomekindofproofthatthis—anyofthis—istrue.Thatyou’rereally…Gaia.”
“Oh,isthatall?”Shelaughed.“Well,whydidn’tyousaysosooner,darling?”
Asecondlater,IlookedoutthewindowbesideourtableandsawDerrick,dressedinafulltuxedo,ridingdownthestreet
onamotorcycle.
Derrick
Themindisnotavesseltobefilled,butafiretobekindled.
Plutarch
Derrickdidn’tthinkhecouldrememberatimewhenhe’dbeenquitesosimultaneouslyannoyedandelated.Oneminutehe’dbeen
packinguphisthingsatJessica’shouse,takingcarenottoletPyeescapeoutsidedespitethecat’spersistenteffortsto
doso.
Andthenext,hewasridingamotorcycledownaclosedroad,narrowlyavoidingstrikingpedestrians.
ItwasonlywhenheslammedonthebrakesandskiddedtoahaltinfrontofMamaGiovanni’sItalianTrattoria,thenlooked
throughthewidepicturewindowtherethathehadanyclueastowhatwasgoingon.
That’swhenhesawJessicastaringathim,slack-jawedinastonishment…andhismothersittingacrossthetablefrom
her,liftingaglassofwineinasaucysalutetohim.
Ofcourse.Gaia.Heshouldhaveknown.
“Hey!”yelledanangryfatherofthree,yankinghischildrenfrominfrontofthecycle’spath.“Can’tyouread?ThesignsaysRoadClosed!”
“Sorry,”Derrickmutteredasheswitchedoffthebike.Heglanceddownathimself,noticinganunfamiliarflashofwhite.
WhathadGaiadressedhimin?Atuxedo?
Helookedathismotherthroughthewindowandshookhishead.Sheshrugged,smiled,andtookasipofherwine.
Jessica,meanwhile,hadthrowndownhernapkinandheadedoutside.Hercheekswerebrightpink—whetherfromthewineorseeing
himdrivedownaclosedroadlikeanidiot,hehadnoidea—andherhairitsusualchaoticmessofcurls.Shelookedbeautiful
andwarmandsexyinanoversizedFairIslesweaterandjeans,andDerrickwantedtokickhimselfforeverhavinglefther
sideinthefirstplace.Heshouldhavestayedlastnightandbeggedonhiskneesforherforgiveness.
Maybehe’ddoithere,onthestreet,instead.
“Jess,”hebegan,swinginghislegfromthebike.
Butshedidn’tlethimsayanotherword.
“Where.Have.You.Been?”shedemanded,herfistsonherhips.
Nowheknewhercheeksweren’tpinkfromthewineorsecondhandembarrassment.Shewasangry.
“I—Youtoldme—Yousaidtostayaway,”hestammered.
“Yes,”shesaid.Theblushwasdeepening.“ButIdidn’tthinkyou’ddoit.”
“I’ddowhateveryouaskedmetodo.”Hewasawarethatpeopleweregatheringaroundthem—somefromthestreet,somefrom
insidetherestaurant,includinghismotherandMark—butDerrickhadeyesonlyforher.“Anything.Youshouldknowthatby
now.”
“Exceptwearasuit,”hismothersaid.Shewasstandingonthesidewalkholdingherglassofwineinherhand,thoroughlyenjoyingherself.“Iputhiminthesuit,Jessica,becausehe’dneverwearoneotherwise,andIknewyou’dlikeit.Doesn’thelookhandsome?”
Derricksenthismotherawitheringlook.“Mom.Please.”
“Well,youdolookhandsome!”shecried,defensively.“Tellhim,Jessica.”
Jessicagrinned.Herblushwasabating.“Yourmother’sright.Youdolookhandsome.”
Hefoundhimselfgrinningbackather.
“Andthebikeisforyou,yousillyboy,”hismothercried.“You’vebeencomplainingaboutthatrentalcarfordays,soI
thought,whynotgivehimoneofthoseterriblemotorbikeshelikessomuch?Thatwaythey’llbothbehappy.”
MarknoddedattheDucati.“Sweetridethere,man.”
Derrick’sgrinwidened.“Thanks,man.”
“Ma,”Marksaidtohismother,whowasstandingonthesidewalkbesidehim,watchingtheirlittledramaunfold.“Whydon’t
yougetmeabikelikethat?”
“Whydon’tyougetmarried?”Mrs.Giovannidemanded,smackinghimonthebackofthehead.
Acrackofthundersoundedoverhead,startlingeveryone.Itwassolongandsoloud,itseemedtobecomingfromeverywhere
allatonce.Derrickglancedtowardthesquare,thinkingithadcomefromthatdirection,buthesawnocloudsinthatpart
ofthesky.ThenJessicanudgedhisshoulder.
“No,”shesaid.“Lookthere.”
Helookedwhereshewaspointing.Totheeast,stormcloudsweregrowing,pilingupabovetheSoundlikewreckedcarsonan
expressway.
HeandJessicaweren’ttheonlypeoplewho’dnoticed.Manyofthetouristshadseentheclouds,too,andwerecheckingtheirphones,confusedsincetheforecastfortheeveninghadcalledforclearskiesjustsecondsbefore.
Locals,however,usedtotheintemperatenortheasternweather,merelyshruggedandheadedforthesquare.
“IsthisRosalie?”Derrickaskedhismother,urgently.“Oryou?”
“Me?”Gaia’seyeswidened.“WhenhaveIevertamperedwiththeweather,especiallytospoilaparty?Iloveparties.”
ButJessicawastheonewhoknewtheanswer.
“It’snotRosalie,”shesaidfirmly.“Sheworkedhardonthisevent.She’dneverruinitwithastorm—especiallywithLizzie
there.”
“Thenthisistherift,”Derricksaid.“It’sstarting.Andit’sworsethanI’dthought.Brewsterintendstotrytoexorcise
thedemons.”
Jessicashookherhead.“Andthat’sbadbecause—?”
“Itwillonlymakethemangrier,andputthepeopleofthistowninmoredanger.Demonsfeedoffnegativity.Whatdrivesthem
awayispositiveenergy,understanding,andjustice,notattemptstocastthemintoeternaldamnation.”
“Comeon.”SheseizedDerrick’shand,andbeforeherealizedwhatwashappening,hefoundhimselfbeingtuggedtowardhis
newbike.“We’vegottofindEsther.”
“Youtwogoon,”hismothercalledtothemastheystrappedonthematchingblackhelmetshefoundinthebike’sstoragecompartment.
“I’vealreadyinvolvedmyselfmorethanIshould.I’mstayingherewithmynewfriends.”
“Yeah,”Marksaid,puttingonearmaroundDerrick’smother,andtheotheraroundhisownmother’s.“I’lltakegoodcareof
ourmoms.”
“Goodluckwiththat,”Derrickmuttered,asheheeledbackthebike’skickstand.
ThenJessicawrappedherarmsaroundhiswaist,andhefelthersoftbreastsagainsthisback.Hisheartstaggeredasifhewereaboyagain.
“Isyourmotherreallynotgoingtohelp?”sheasked.
“She’salreadyhelped,”hesaid.“Shebroughtyouandmetogether.Therestisuptous.Areyouready?”
Hefelthergriponhiswaisttighten.“I’mready,”shesaid.
Heflippedontheignition.“Let’sgo.”Jessica
Duringawaningmoon,performspellstobanish.Duringawaxingmoon,performspellsforgrowth.Duringafullmoon,perform
spellsforpower.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
OfcourseIhadalotoffeelingsaboutmyboyfriend’smotherforcinghersontoshowupinatuxedoattherestaurantwhere
sheandIwerehavinglunch.
EventhoughDerrickseemedtogetoverhisindignationwithherprettyquickly,thisdidn’tfeeltomelikethehealthiest
relationship,especiallysinceshewouldn’thelpsavemytownfrompossibledemonicannihilation.
ButunfortunatelyIdidn’thavetimetosortthroughmyemotionsaboutthat.
WhenDerrickpulledhisbikeupinfrontofEnchantments,Ihoppedfromthebackandwhippedoffmyhelmet,hopingmycurls
wouldcomestreamingoutandthenbouncerightbackintoplacelikethehairofmodelsalwaysdoesonshampoocommercials.
ButI’mnotamodel.Andtherewassomuchdampnessandstaticelectricityintheairfromthestormbrewingouteastofftheocean,mostofmycurlsseemedtostickwetlytomyfaceinstead.
Evenso,DinaandYasmin,who’dheardtherumbleofDerrick’sbikeengine,cameoutoftheirofficeacrossthestreetand
hootedappreciatively.
“Yeah,lady!”Dinacatcalledme.“Lookinggood!”
Iturnedaround.DinaandYasminhadalreadychangedintotheireveningwearfortheball—gownsI’dselectedforthematEnchantments,
inwhichtheyseemedtoglow,despitethegrowingdarkness.
Iwavedtothem—Ididn’thavetimeformore—andhurriedintotheshop.Becca,Zahrah,andNaomihadchangedintotheirgowns
aswellandwereclosingup.TheyglancedupatmeinsurpriseasIburstin.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Zahrahasked.
“Isthatamotorcyclehelmetinyourhand?”Beccateased.“Boldfashionchoiceforaformalevent.”
“Wherearethegirls?”Iasked,mygazetearingfranticallyaroundtheshop.Ididn’tseethemanywhereinit.“Gabbyand
Esther?”
“Theywentonuptothesquare,”Zahrahsaid,lookingconfused.“Esthersaidshegotamessagetomeetyouthere.Didyou
not—?”
“No.”
IswallowedbackthesuddenfearIfeltwellinginsideme,thenspunawayfromtheirconfusedexpressionsandpeltedback
outontothestreet,whereDerrickwaswaitingwiththebikestillrunning.
“She’salreadyatthesquare,”Itoldhim,tuggingmyhelmetonceagainovermydampcurls.“Someonesentheramessagetelling
hertomeetmethere.”
“Oneguessastowhoitwas,”hesaidasIswungupontotheseatbehindhim
“Idon’tneedtoguess,”Isaid,wrappingmyarmsaroundhiswaist.“Iknow.”
“Hey!”IheardDinayellbehindusastheDucati’sengineroared.“Whereareyougoing?Theroadisclosed!Youtwoaregonna
getyourselveskilled—orarrested!”
GoodthingIknowacoupleoflawyers,iswhatIwouldhaveyelledback—ifIhadn’tbeentoobusyclutchingDerrickinanxietyashethundereddownthenarrow,
cobblestonedroad,nowcloggedwithWestHarborcitizensinformalwear,allattemptingtojamthemselvesbeneaththemultiple
tentsthatcoveredthetownsquare.
Theyhadtolineuptoshowtheirticketsfirst,however,inordertobeadmitted,anditwaspastthislineDerrickrumbled.
Andthoughhisbike’senginewasloud,Icouldstillheartheoccasionalshoutandcommentleveledatus:“Theroadisclosed!”
“Gettothebackoftheline!”“Peoplethinkthey’resoentitledthesedays.”
I’msureDerrickheardthem,too,buthedidn’tstopuntilwe’dreachedtheredvelvetropesattheentrancetotheclosest
tentattheveryfrontoftheline—justasthefirstdropsofrainbegantofallfromtheheavyblanketofcloudsthathad
closedoverWestHarbor.
“Hey,”Isaid,flingingmyselfoffthebackofDerrick’sbikeandrushingtothetickettaker,whowaswearingfullColonial
garb—aservingwenchcostume,completewithcorset,scullerycap,andasurlyexpression.“I’mnotherefortheball.Ijust
needtoruninsideandtalktosomeone.”AndsaveWestHarborfrombecomingahellmouth.“IswearI’llonlybeasecond.”
“Noticket,noentrance,”shesaidwithoutskippingabeatasshescannedtheticketsoftheguestsinfrontofher.Ithadgrowndarkenoughthatsheneededtouseaminiflashlighttoseethem.Eitherthat,orRosaliewassoworriedaboutforgeries,she’dtoldthestafftouseflashlightstochecktheticketsforauthenticity.“Andyou’llhavetogetbackinlineandwaityourturnlikeeveryoneelse.”
“Ihaveaticket,”Isaid,openingmybagandrootingthroughit.WherehadIputthoseticketsRosaliehadgivenmetheother
day?“Ijustdon’tknowwheretheyarerightnow.Istherealist?I’msureI’monit.”
“There’snolist.”Thebarmaidspokeinaboredvoice.She’devidentlybeenaskedthisquestionalot.“Ticketholdersonly
willbeadmitted.”
“Youknow,youcan’tparkthatbikethere,”amaninfullBritishredcoatuniformsaidtoDerrick,pointingatasignthat
hadbeencalligraphedinOldEnglishscript.“Thestreetisclosedtovehiculartraffictoday.”
“Iwashopingyoucouldmakeanexception,”Derricksaid,removinghisblackhelmetandblinkingatthebarmaidwithhissilver
eyes.“It’sanemergency.”
SomethinginDerrick’svoicecausedhertoactuallylookupfromherticketinspection—butnotmagic,whichiswhatI’dthought
atfirst.Sheliftedthefrillyrimofherscullerycap.
“Oh,hey,”StacythewaitressfromWakeUpWestHarborsaidwithasmileofrecognition.“It’syouguys.”
I’dpulledoffmyhelmet,aswell.“Oh,hi!”
“Youfoundhim,Isee.”Stacygrinnedatmeknowingly.
“Idid,yeah.”IlacedmyfingersthroughDerrick’s.“Finally.So,um,woulditbeokayifwe—”
“Oh,yeah,sure.”Shecasuallywavedusthroughthevelvetropedentranceusingthebeamofherflashlight.“Takeallthe
timeyouneed.I’llwatchthebike.”
“What?”objectedthehaughtyBritishredcoat.“Youmademegobacktomycarformytickets,andI’mparkedallthewaybythetrainstation!”
“Next,”Stacysaid,inaboredvoice,ignoringhim.
“Thankyou,”Isaidtoher,andDerrickandIduckedthroughtheentrancejustasthecold,stingingrainbegantofallwithmoreearnestness.
Insidethetent,however,itwasacompletelydifferentworld.Warmanddry,strandsofwhitepartylightshungfromthebranches
oftreestogiveafestive,evenotherworldlyglow.Tablesstrewnwithwhiteclothsanddecoratedwithdancingvotivecandles
wereplacedinfrontofastagethatbackedupontothecourthousesteps,onwhichsatapodiumandsmallorchestra,playing
apiecethatcertainlysoundedasifithadcomefromtheseventeenthcentury.ServersdressedsimilarlytoStacymilledaround,
offeringchampagneandsmalldishestothemanypartygoerswho’dalreadymanagedtomakeitinsidethetents.
Lookingoutoversuchapicture-perfectscene,listeningtothelovelymusicandseeingallthehappy,beautifullydressed
people,itwashardtobelieveanythingcouldbeamiss.
UntilIheardanothercrackofthunder—thistimesoundingasifitwasrightoverhead.Peopleallaroundusducked,looking
up,thengiggledasifattheirownfoolishnessforforgettinghowsafetheywere,beneaththisseriesoftents.
Exceptofcoursetheyweren’tsafe.Theyweren’tsafeatall.
DerrickandIscannedthesquare.
“Idon’tseeEsther,”hesaid.“Doyou?”
“No.”I’dalreadyfishedmyphonefrommybagandcalledher.Noresponse.“Idoubtshecanhearherphone,withallthis
racket.”
“That‘racket,’asyoucallit,”Derricksaid,“istheAllegrofromBach’sBrandenburgConcertoNumberFour.”
“Wow,”Isaid,pretendingtobeimpressed.“Youknowalot,forafarmboyfromMontana.Oh,wait,Ialmostforgot.Yourmomisthecreatorofalllife.”
Hegavemeapleadinglook.“I’msorry.Iwantedtotellyou.”
Isqueezedhishandinmine.“Iknow,”Isaid.“It’sallright.Truthfully,evenifyouhadtoldme,Iwouldn’thavebelieved
you.”
“Andnow?”
“NowIbelieveyou.ButIalsothinkyourfamilyneedsalotoftherapy.”
Heliftedmyhandtohislips,hiseyesseemingtoburnintomysoul.
“YouknowIloveyou,don’tyou?You’retheonlythingmyheartbeatsfor,”hemurmured,anddespitethemusic,despitethe
chatterofallthepeoplearoundus,despitetherainpatteringevenharderagainstthetent,Iheardeveryword,asifhe’d
burneditacrossmyskinwiththegoldenfireofhistouch.
IwantedtotellhimthatIfeltthesame.Iwantedtotellhimalotofthings.ButIdidn’tgetthechance,becausesuddenly
hisgriponmyhandtightened.
“Theresheis,”hesaid,hisgazesharpeningonsomethingbehindme.
“Esther?”Myheadwhippedaround,butallIsawwasRosalie,standingattheedgeofthestagewithhertabletandheadset
again.Theonlydifferencebetweentonightandlastnightwasthattonight,hersheathdresswasred.Myshoulderssagged
withdisappointment.“That’sRosalie.”
“Iknow,”hesaid.“Butshe’llhaveanideawhereEstheris.Comeon.”
Hekepthisgriponmyhandashesteeredmetowardthestage.Iwasgladhedid,sincewecouldeasilyhavebecomeseparated—notsimplybytheever-growingcrowd,butbyleakswhichhadbeguntoappearintheseamsbetweenthetents.Rainwaterwassluicingdowninsteadyrivulets,somebetweentables,someevenontothem,dousingthecandles,andcausingpartygoerstoleapfromtheirchairsunexpectedly,directlyintoourpath.
Derrickdidn’tcare.Heveeredpastthem,untilwereachedthestage—andRosalie.
“Thisisinexcusable,”Icouldhearherbarkingintoherheadsetasweapproached,eventhoughtheorchestrawasplayingas
energeticallyaseveronlyafewfeetaway.“Thecitypaidoverahundredandfiftythousanddollarstorentthesetents.
Iwastoldthey’dstanduptodrivingrainandgaleforcewinds.Iwantsomebodyheretofixthisrightnow!”
“Rosalie,”Isaid.I’dnoticedthatBilly,dressedinhistux,wasslouchedatanearbytable,nursingwhatlookedlikea
whiskyontherocks.Heliftedhisglassuponmeetingmygaze,thenwentbacktodrinking.Besidehim,BillyJuniorslumped
inatuxofhisown,playingvideogamesonhisphone,andLizzie—Rosalie’scontenderforBringerofLight—washunchedafew
chairsaway,wearingaredgownthatmatchedhermother’s,onlywithacrownofgoldrosesinsteadofaheadset.
Rosalieheldasingleindexfingerouttome,toindicatethatIshouldwaitaminuteuntilshewasdoneonhercall.
“Whatdoyoumean,theroadshavebecomeimpassable?”sheasked,inavoicethatwasascoldastherainthatsuddenlybegan
streamingdowninthemiddleofthestringsectionoftheorchestra.“What—”
Shetappedtheheadsetseveraltimes,thenlookedatme,hereyeswidewithastonishedoutrage.“Theyhungup.Theyhungup!Canyoubelieve—?”Shelookedaround,noticingthattheorchestrahadceasedplayingandthemusicianswererisingfromtheir
seats.“What’swrong?Whyhasthemusicstopped?”
“Wecan’tcontinueplayinguntiltherainisover,Mrs.Hopkins,”theconductorinformedher.“It’saliabilityissue.Someoftheseinstrumentsareworthanenormousamountofmoney,andiftheygetwet,they’llberuined.That’snottomentiontheriskofelectrocutionfromthesoundsystem.”
“Great.”Rosalie’sgazefellonme,andwhenitdid,Itookastaggeringstepback,andDerrick’shandswentprotectively
aroundme.Rosaliedidn’tlooklikehernormallycool,collectedself.Shedidn’tevenlooklikeastormwitch.Shelooked
likehell.“Therewasn’tevenrainintheforecast.Wheredidthisstormcomefrom,huh?Areyoutheonecausingthis,Jess?
Areyou?”
ButbeforeIcouldreply,aman’sdeepvoicerangout.IthadaBritishaccent.
“Ofcourseit’snotJessica,Rosalie,”Brewstersaid,soundingamused.Ispunaroundtoseehimstandingbehindme.
AndhehadonehandonEsther’sslimshoulder.
“Weallknowexactlywhat’shappeningrightnow,don’twe?”Brewsterwenton,amiably.“Sowhydon’twesitdownanddiscuss
it,likecivilizedwitches?”
Jessica
WhentheBringerofLightisjoinedbytheChosenOne,herpowerwillincreasetenfold.
“I’msorry,”Billysaid,puttingdownhisdrinkwithathump.“Butdidhesaywitches?”
“Idid,myboy.”
Brewster,hishandstillrestingonEsther’sshoulder,propelledherforward.She’dchangedfromtheclothesshe’dbeenwearing
earlierintooneoftheNewYear’sEvejumpsuits.She’dchosenmycross-necksequinjumpsuitinsilver,withflaredwide-leg
bottoms.Shewaswalkingalittlestiffly,butotherwiseseemedallright
Exceptforhereyes.Hereyes,behindthelensesofherglasses,werehuge.Andterrified.
“Yourwifeisawitch,”BrewsterinformedBilly.“Averypowerfulwitchwhoisgoingtohelpmesendthedemonswho’vebeen
plaguingyourvillageforcenturiesbacktotheirgraves,wheretheybelong.”
Witch?Thewordrippledthroughthecrowd.Nothorrified.Amused,mostly.Therewasasmatteringofgiggles,andevensomesnickers.Itseemedtomethatmanypeoplethoughtthiswassomekindofpre-balltheatricalskitfortheirentertainment.
ButnotBilly.BillyshotRosaliealooksohurt,youwouldhavethoughtshe’dstabbedhim.She,inturn,cried,“It’snot
true!”ShewasstickingtoRuleNumberEight:ATrueWitchkeepstheexistenceofmagicandwitchcraftasecretfromthenon-magical,
knowingthattheirmindsaretoofragiletohandlethetruth.
LookingatBilly’sstrickenface,itwasn’tdifficulttoseewhythisrulehadbeencreated.
RosaliewhirleduponBrewster.“Excuseme,butwhatdoyouthinkyou’redoing?Noneofthesepeoplehere”—onthewordpeople,shegesturedtowardthoseofuswhowerestillintheaudience,andincludednolessdignitariesthanthemayorandher
wife,multiplecitycommissioners,andthefirechief—“areinterestedinhearingabout—”
“Well,theyshouldbe,Rosalie,”Brewsterinterruptedasacrackofthundersolouditfeltasifitmightteartheskyin
twoshookthetent.“Becausethisconcernsallofthem.”
“That’senough,Bart,”Derricksaidinahardvoice,steppingintohisbrother’spath.
“Oh,it’snotnearlyenough,”Brewstersaid.“Butgetready.Itwillbe—”
Pop!
Oneofthebulbsinthestrandofpartylightsaboveourheadsexploded.Iwasn’ttheonlyonewholetoutashriekandduckedastinyshardsofglassraineddownonus—especiallyasanother,andthenanotherpopped.Lizzieandherbrotherscreamed,too,anddoveforsafetybeneaththetableatwhichthey’dbeensitting.Allaroundus,guestswentrunningfortheexits—thenstumbled,sincetherestofthetentwasquicklyplungedintoneartotaldarkness.Mostofthevotivecandleshadbeenextinguishedbytherain,andtheotherfairylightsappearedtohaveshortedout.
Theonlylighttoseebywasthatofthefullmoon,lowinthenightsky,andbarelyvisiblethroughtheslowlydissipating
clouds,shiningthroughtheripsinthetents.
Butthatlightwasseemingtoglowbrighterwitheverypassingsecond.
“Thedemons!”ProfessorBrewstercried,coveringhiseyesasabulbburstabovehishead.“Iwarnedyou!”
“Demonsaretheleastofyourproblems,”Derricksnarled.
AndthenhisrightfistlandedonBrewster’sfacewithasickeningthud—thesoundtheynevergetrighton-screen,notasmacksomuchasasquelchoffleshstrikingflesh,andbonesbreaking.
Brewsterwentstaggeringback.Rosalie,stunnedbysuchaviolentdisplay,letoutascream,andEsthercamerunningdown
thestairsfromthestage—andintomywaitingarms.
“Areyouallright?”Iaskedher.
“Yeah,”shemanagedtochoke.ShewasclutchingmeastightlyasIwasher.“Fine.I’msorry.Hesentmeatextmessagesaying
tomeetup,thathewaswithyou—itwasn’tuntilIgotherethatIsawthathewaslying.Iwouldhaveblownhisheadoff,
butGabbywastherethewholetime.Ididn’twanttoupsether—”
Iknewthenthatshe’dneveractuallybeenterrified.Norwasshehurt,orevenslightlyannoyed:shewasangry.Estherwas
simmeringwithrage,andhadonlymanagedtokeepthatrageincheckbecauseshehadn’twantedtofrightenhergirlfriend.
Brewsterdidn’tknowhowluckyhewas.
“Where’sGabbynow?”
“Somewherearoundhere,harvestprincessing.”
“Wasthatyou?”Iasked.“Whoblewupallthelights?”
“No.”Shewasholdingmesoclose,Icouldfeelherheartdrummingagainstmine.“Iwouldnever.Glassisdangerous,andtherearekidshere.Wasit…wasitthedemons?”
Crap.
Rosaliecamerushingovertous.“Whyareyoujuststandingthere?”sheshrieked.“Aren’tyougoingtodosomething?”
IreleasedEstherandturnedtowardher.“IthoughtyouweretheChosenOne,Rosalie.Whydon’tyoudosomething?”
“WhatamIsupposedtodoaboutthis?”Shewavedherhandsintheair,indicatingthewreckedtent,soddentables,thesoundbooththatwasnowonfire,andthe
twomenonthestepstothestagewhowerestillsluggingitout.Derrickdefinitelyseemedtohavetheupperhand,however.
Brewsterhadcollapsedagainstthemuddyground,withDerrickstandingabovehim.“Can’tyouputastoptothat,atleast?”
Tobehonest,Iwaskindofenjoyingtheview.Derrick’sbowtiehadcomeundone,andsohadhisponytail.Helookedlike
anavengingVikingineveningwear.
Still,Irealizedthatthiswasn’texactlythepositiveenergythatDerrickhadsaidwe’dneedinordertocombatthedemons.
Eveninthesemidarkness,IcouldseethatRosaliewascrying.
“Please.”ShesoundedmoredesperateandunhappythanI’deverheardher.“Ihavenoideahowthisbecamesuchadisaster—”
Shepointedtowardthetablewhereshe’dbeensittingwithherkids,andwhereBilly,nowslumpedwithabottleofwhisky
he’dstolenfromsomewhere,wasdrinking.“Butifyouhaveanyideahowtofixit,pleasehelpme.”
Myhighschoolnemesis,askingformyhelp?Wasthistheworkofdemons?
ButbeforeIhadtimetofigureitout,Esthersteppedforward.“IthinkIknowwhatmighthelp,”shesaid.
Thenshereachedintothepocketofherjumpsuit,withdrewwhatappearedtobealetter,andclimbedthestairstothestage.Miraculously,whenshereachedthemicrophoneandgaveitatap,itletoutasound.Itmighthavebeentheonlyobjectleftinthetentthatwasstillelectrified.
“Testing,”Esthersaid,leaningintothemic.“Canyouhearme?”
“Wehearyou!”someonecalledfromthebackofthetent.IwasfairlycertainitwasGabby.
“Good,”Esthersaid,andunfoldedthelettershe’ddrawnfromherpocket.“MynameisEstherDodge,andIjustwantedtosay
afewwords.”
Mymentee—theBringerofLight—wasabouttogiveaspeech.
Itensed,halfexpectingthedemonsI’dheardsomuchabouttocomeswoopingoutfromthedarknessandattackher.Atthe
veryleast,IthoughtBrewsterwouldyellatEsthertogetoffthestage.
Buthedidn’t.Instead,Isawhimlyingthereatthebottomofthesteps,staringupatherwithalookofhorroronhisface.
AtfirstIdidn’tunderstandwhy.
ThenDerrickstaggeredthroughthemudandbrokenglasstocomestandbymyside,andIsawhimstaringinthesamedirection.
Heworealookofwonder,nothorror.
WhenIlookedbackatEsther,Isawwhy.
Thesilversequinsonherjumpsuithadcaughtthereflectionofthemoonlight,andwerecastingasparklinglightshowall
aroundthetent.Likesunbeamsdancingonthesurfaceofwater,thereflectionofthesequinsswayedacrossthewallsofthe
tents,asdazzlingasdiamonds.Dozensofthem,hundreds,theytilteddizzyinglyaroundus,asdisorientingastheglitter
fromadiscoball,butjustaspleasing.
“Iwrotetothemayortheotherday,”Esthersaid.“Andshewaskindenoughtowriteback.I’mholdingtheletterIreceivedfromher.Someofyoumayknowthatbackinthesixteenhundreds,righthereinAmerica,anumberofmenandwomenwerewrongfullyaccusedofwitchcraft.TheveryfirstwitchtrialsinthiscountryoccurredhereinConnecticut.Mostoftherecordsfromthosedayshavebeenlost,butweknowforsurethatnearlyfortypeoplewereindicted,andelevenactuallyexecutedinaspotveryclosetowherewe’restandingnow.Iknowthat’snotasmanyaswereaccusedandexecutedinotherplaces,butnoneofthosepeopledeservedtodie.Andtome,that’stherealcrime—thecrimeofpersecutingsomeonefortheirsupernaturalbeliefs,acrimeforwhichpeoplearoundtheworldeventodaycontinuetobeaccused,andtosufferanddie.Ibelievethecourtsystemsshouldbeheldaccountableforthis.”
That’swhenthereflectionsonthesidesofthetentchanged.Beforethey’dmerelybeenround,likethesequinsonEsther’s
jumpsuit.Themoreshespoke,however,thebrightertheygrew—andthemoredistinctlyidentifiableinshape.
Andthatshapewas…wolf.Dozens,hundreds,maybethousandsofshininggraywolves,allthewolvesthathadeverexisted
inWestHarbor,backbeforethey,likethewitches,hadbeenhuntedtoextinction—glowedallaroundus.
Icaughtmybreath.I’dneverseenanythingmorebeautiful.IcouldtellDerrickfeltthesamewayashefumbledformyhand.
Icouldseeitinhiseyes—thesamesilverasthewolves,andthelightfromthemoon.
“Iaskedthemayoriftherewassomewayshecouldclearthenamesofallofthepoorpeoplewhowereaccusedofwitchcraft
backintheearlydaysofWestHarbor,”Estherwenton,seeminglyunconsciousofwhatwasoccurringallaboveandaroundher.
“Andshesaidthatunfortunately,shedidn’thavetheauthority.Butshesaidthatshewoulddoallshecouldtohelpget
myrequesttotherightpeople.Peoplewhocouldhelp.”
Thewolf-shapedlightsbegantoshiftandsway,likesunlightontheSound,asifthepackwasonthemove—incelebration,orinthanks.Itwashardtotell.AllIknewwasthatIwasintears—buttheyweretearsofjoy.
“Thewolveswereneverheretohurtus,werethey?”IleanedclosetowhispertoDerrick.“Theywereheretoprotectus.”
Henodded.Isawthathiseyeswerelookingdamp,aswell.
“Aredemonsalwaysthisbeautiful?”Iasked.
Heshookhishead.“No.That’sbecauseofEsther—andyou.”
Ismiledthroughmytears.
“AllIwant,”Esthercontinued,“isforthesoulsofallthosewrongfullyaccusedtobeabletorestinpeace.Theydidnothing
criminal.AndIintendtofightforthem…andIhopesomeofyou,atleast,willjoinmeinmyfight.”
“I’lljoinyou,”IheardGabby’svoicecry,clearandstrong,fromthebackofthetent.
“Me,too,”criedsomeoneelse.
“M-me,too,”Rosaliechoked.Tearswerestreamingdownherfaceasshegazedaroundthetent,andatEsther.“I—I’msorry.”
Rosaliehadsomanythingstoapologizefor,itwasimpossibletosaywhat,specifically,shewassorryfor.
ButtheBringerofLight,unlikeme,wasn’tpettyenoughtoquestionit.Esthermerelysmiledatherkindly,asinthedistance—the
fardistance—thunderrumbled.Thestormwasmovingon.Aroundus,thewolflightswerebeginningtofade.Justicehadn’tyet
beenrestoredforthoseinWestHarborwho’dbeenwronglykilledsomanycenturiesago.Butsomethinglikeitwaspouring
intorepairtherift,likeatouchfromDerrick’sfingers,fillingthehurtwithgoldenwarmth.
“It’sallright,”EsthersaidtoRosalie.“Youdidn’tknowbetter.”
Brewster—who’dsunktohiskneesinthemud—liftedhisowntearstainedface.“I’msorry,too,”hemurmured.“Please…”
Estherlookeddownathim,andherexpressionhardened.“Youdidknowbetter,”shesaid,andsheraisedherhand,exactlyasshehadwiththepumpkins—
“No!”Icried.
Estherlookedatmeandliftedaneyebrow.“Whydidyoutwobotherteachingmehowtocontrolmypowersifyoudon’twant
meusingthem?”
“Youdiduseyourpowers,”Derricksaid.“Yourpowersofcompassionandempathy.”
Sherolledhereyes.“Boring.”
“Isn’titbetternottobelikehim,though?”Iasked,noddingatthesnivelingBrewster.
Shethoughtaboutitforamoment.Icouldseeherconsideringheroptions—thensheshrugged.
“Yeah,”shesaid.“Iguessyou’reright.Besides,IcanalwaysblowstuffupwhenIgettocollege.”
Then,justlikethat,thelastshaftofwolflightdisappeared,thepartylightsintherestofthetentturnedbackon,and
Estherwasherselfagain.
AndProfessorBartholomewBrewsterslumpeddownintothemudinadeadfaint.Jessica
ToshowgratitudetotheMotherGoddessforallherbounty,placesacrificesofwineuponheraltar.Orsimplydrinkitin
hername.
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
IttooktheEMTsawhiletogetintothetent,becauseofthecrowdandtheroadclosures.
ButwhentheyfinallygotachancetoexamineDerrick’sbrother,theyfoundhispulseandbloodpressurecompletelynormal.
Hebeggedthemtotakehimtothehospitalanyway,andholdhimovernightfor“observation.”
IguessIcan’treallyblamehim.Iwouldn’twanttohangaround,defenseless,againstawholebunchofpowerfulwitcheswho
hatedme,either.
Itwasastheyweretrundlinghimawayonthegurneythatweturnedaroundandsawthemayorwalkinguptoourtable,her
wifeintow.
“Goodevening,”themayorsaid.“Thatwascertainlyaninterestingperformancepiece.”
“Itwasn’taperf—”Estherstartedtosay,butRosaliejumpedinbeforeshecouldfinish.
“Oh,MadamMayor,Ican’tapologizeenough,”shegushed.“Iwasassuredthetentswouldbewind-andwaterproof.”
“That’squiteallright.”Themayorshruggedsympathetically.“Thesethingshappen,especiallyinNewEnglandinthefall.
Wecan’tcontroltheweather.”
Noneofussaidanything—especiallythoseofuswhoknewbetter.
“Idon’tthinkit’stoolatetotrytosalvagetheevening,though.”Shelookedupatthedrippingtentceiling.“Well,what’s
leftofit,anyway.Theskyisclearnow,andtherearestillquiteafewpeopleleft,includingthecaterers.”
Itwastrue.Theservershadbegunputtingoutthefirstcourse—asomewhatsoggylobsterbisque.Cold,hungrypartygoerswere
dryingofftheirchairswiththeirnapkinswithgood-heartedcheer,andsittingdown.
“Andlook,”saidthemayor,pointingtothestage.
Theorchestrawasback,apparentlynolongerfearingeitherdamagetotheirinstrumentsorelectrocution,andhadresumed
Bach’sBrandenburgConcertoNumberFour.
“Aw,see,honey,”Billysaid,beamingdownathiswife.“Thingshaven’tturnedoutsobadly,afterall.”
IhavenoideawhatBillyhadseen—ordidnotsee,ortoldhimselfnottosee—inthehourbefore.Butwhateveritwas,the
whiskyseemedtohavecausedhimtodecideitwasallright.Hewasbacktobeingthehappy-go-luckyBillyhe’dbeenever
sincehe’dmarriedRosalie.
WasthatbecauseofthespellDinaandIhadcastuponthecouple,somanyyearsearlier?Orsimplybecausehelovedher,
witchornot?
Whateverthereason,Rosalieseemedrelieved.Sheswayedagainsthim,andheputanarmaroundhertosupporther.
“Yes,”shesaid.“Yes,you’reright.Iguessthingsareturningoutallright,afterall.”
“I’veoftenfound,”themayorsaid,“thatnothingbondspeoplemorecloselytogetherthanalittleadversity.”
Wasthatsmilethatshegaveasshesaiditasecretone,meantforDerrickandme?Orhaditbeenmeantgenerally,forall
ofus?
Becausewehadn’tstoppedholdinghandssinceEstherhadnarrowlysavedWestHarborandallitsresidentsfromtheapocalyptic
deluge.
Notthatsheseemedtobeawareofit.She’dturnedbacktotheservingofbisqueshewassharingwithGabby,who’dfinally
managedtofindher,andwasastonishingEstherandLizziewithtalesoftheadventuresshe’dhadwhilevolunteeringasa
HarvestPrincess.
“Andthen,”shetoldthem,“thesepeoplefromOhioaskedmeifwecatchourownlobsters.Justgoouttothepierandcatchourownlobsters.Withfishingpoles.Ialmostdied.”
Estherlaughedgently.SheseemedasunfazedasBillybyherbrushwiththesupernatural.Thatwasprobably,Iwassureshe’d
say,becauseshewasaScorpio.
“Oh,Esther.”ThemayorreachedintotheinsidepocketoftheredvelvettuxedoI’ddesignedforher,thenpulledoutanenvelope.
“Ialmostforgot,thisisforyou.IwishI’dgottenittoyouearlier,but…well,youhaveitnow.”
Estherlookedsurprisedasshetookit.“Anotherletter?ShouldIopenit?Here?”
“Ithinkso,”Mrs.Dunleavysaidencouragingly,lookingradiantinthegownI’dsoldher.“Iknowwhatitsays.Ithinkyou’re
goingtolikeit.”
Curious,Estheropenedtheenvelope,thenpulledoutandunfoldedastiffpieceofpaper.
“What’sitsay?”BillyJuniorasked.
“It’saproclamation,”Esthersaid.Shehadafunnylookonherface,oneIdidn’trecognize.That’swhenIrealizeditwas
emotion.Estherdidn’t“do”emotions,excepttheteenbasics:sarcasm,amusement,andanoccasionalcombinationofboth.
Butshelookedgenuinelytouchedbywhateverthemayorhadwritten.
“Aproclamationofwhat,Ess?”Gabbyasked.
“Declaringmywitchancestorpardonedofallchargesagainsther.”Esthersmiledupatthemayor,hereyesshining.“Thank
you.Thismeansalot.”
“It’snotofficial,ofcourse,”themayorsaidapologetically.“Mayorscan’tofficiallypardonpeople—especiallypeoplewho
livedoverfourhundredyearsago,andrecordsofwhosetrialnolongerexist.ButlikeIsaid,I’mhappytohelpyouthrough
thatprocess.”
“Youhaveanancestorwhowasaccusedofwitchcraft?”Rosalieasked,soundingstunned.
“Yes.”Estherfoldedtheproclamationandputitinherbackpack—whichofcourseshe’dkeptclosetoherallevening.“On
mymother’sside.ElizabethFletcher.Shewasn’texecuted,though,justbanished.”
Ifeltadeliciousshiverdownmyspine.MaybeitwasbecauseDerrickwastouchingme.Ormaybeitwassomethingelse.
“Us,too!”Lizziecried,delighted.“Hey,Mom,isn’tElizabethFletcherthenameofourgreat-great-whatever-grandmotherwho
wasbanishedforwitchcraft?”
Rosalie’slipswentverysmallasshelookedatEsther.“Yes.Yes,that’sher.”
“Hey!”Lizzielaughed.“Iwonderifwe’rerelated!”
Esthergrinned.“That’dbecool.”
ItwasclearfromthewayRosaliewasstrugglingtosmilethatshedidnotyetconsiderthiscool—butshewastryingtoget
there.
“Didyouknowaboutthis?”IaskedDerrick,undermyvoice.
“ThatthewitchwhowroteyourbookleftitbehindaftermovingtoNewYork,thenwroteRosalie’s?I’lladmit,Isuspected.
Thehandwritingissimilar.”
“Didn’teveryonebackthenwritethesameway?Besides,theinkissofaded,it’salmostimpossibletoreadthething.”
“Almost,”hesaidwithaknowingsmile,“butnotquite.Youcertainlymanaged.”
Ishookmyhead,amazedthatawitchwhohadlivedsolongagocouldhavehadsuchanimpactonnotonlymyownlife,but
thelivesofsomanyothers—andhadevenmanagedtocreateahappyendingforherself,aswell.
“Look!”Billycried,pointing.“Peoplearestartingtodance.Isn’tthatnice,Rosalie?”
Ilooked.Isawdozensofpeople—includingpeopleIknew,likeDinaandMark,andYasminandSal,andevenBeccaandZahrah
andNaomiandtheirpartners—hadfinallymadeittothevillagesquare.Allofthemweredancing.DinanoticedthatI’dcaught
sightofher,andsmiledandliftedahandtowave.Ismiledandwavedback,myheartfilledwithasuddengladness.Somany
peopleIlovedwerehere,righthere,underthesesoddentents.Thishadtrulyturnedintoacelebration—thankstoGoodyFletcher,
Esther,andtheotherwitches.
Rosalie,however,barelyglancedup,shewassodevastatedatdiscoveringherdaughterwasn’tonlynottheBringerofLight,
butnottheonlywitchdescendantofhergreat-great-grandmother.“Yeah.That’sgreat.”
IhadsomethingelsethatwasgoingtomakeRosaliemad—ifsheeverfoundoutaboutit,thatis.IwouldhavetodoeverythingIcouldnottoletthathappen,ofcourse.
“Hey,Esther,”IsaidtoherassheandGabbygotuptodance.
“Yeah?”
“IthinkIhavesomethingofyours,”Isaid.“SomethingthatbelongedtoElizabethFletcher.OrGoodyFletcher,asshewas
calledbackthen.”
Esther’sgazesharpenedwithinterest.“Oh,yeah?What?”
“You’llsee,”Isaid.“I’llbringitbyforyoutomorrow.”
“Yeah,butwhatisit?”
“Abook.”
Estherrolledhereyes.“Abook?AftereverythingIjustdid,youthinkIstillhavethingstolearn?”
“Oh,youdo,”Derricksaid,severely.“Andyou’dbetterlistentoher.”
Hergazesharpenedevenmoreasshelookedathim.“Whataboutyou?Areyoustickingaround?”
Icouldn’thelpstealingaquestioninglookathimaswell,myheart,whichhadfeltsofullbefore,suddenlyseemingtostand
still.
“Oh,”hesaid.“WestHarborwon’tbegettingridofmeaseasilyasitgotridofmybrother.”
Andwiththat,hetightenedhisgriponmyhandanddraggedmetowardmyfriends.
Relieffloodedthroughme.Reliefthathewasstaying.ReliefthatIwouldn’thavetobeghimnottogo.ReliefthatIwouldn’t
havetoputupabravefrontwhenhedidgo,andpretendIdidn’tcare,andthatI’dbefinewithouthim.
Iwouldbefinewithouthim.
Butmydayswouldn’tbeassweet.Likedinnerwithoutdessert.Likecandywithoutchocolate.Likelifewithoutmagic.
OnlywhenIsawthatwewereheadedtowardthedancefloordidIdiginmyheels.
“No,”Icried,puttingonthebrakes.“Idonotdance.”
“Youdonow,”hesaid,andpulledmeplayfullyforward.
Andthen—Idon’tknowhow—somethinginmeloosened,andIwasinhisarms,dancing,mylongdarkhairswayingaroundmyshoulders,
whichweresuddenlybare,becauseIwasinaslim-strapped,satin-topped,tulle-skirtedeveninggownofmidnightblackin
astyleIdon’tevensellinmyshop.Someonehadmagicallytransposedituponme.Itcouldn’thavebeenLizziecastinga
glamour,thoughIsawherbrightfacelaughingjoyouslyasDerrickspunmearoundtheroom.
CouldithavebeenGaia?
Ididn’tcare.Ididn’tcarebecauseIwastheChosenOne.
Chosenbyhim.Jessica
Forlastinglove,laughmuch,quarrellittle,andkeepthyheartandmindopen
GoodyFletcher,BookofUsefulHouseholdTips
Ithrewopenthefrontdoor.Mylittlebrotherstoodonthefrontporch,lookingrumpledandtiredandsurroundedbyduffel
bags.Onlyhewasn’tsolittleanymore.
“Ethan!”Ithrewmyarmsaroundhim.
Heseemedsurprised.IguessIcouldn’tblamehim.We’dneverreallybeenhuggers.
Butwhenyou’rehappy,youwanttohugeveryone.
“Youlookgood,”Ethansaid,cominginthedooranddragginghisbagswithhim.“God,theridefromtheairportwasabitch.
Sincewhendidtheyshutdownthecoastroad?”
“Oh,that.”Ilaughedandclosedthedoorbehindhimtokeepouttheheat.“Yeah,Ishouldhavewarnedyou.They’reredoingthehighschoolcafeteriawhileschoolisoutforsummerbreak.Didyouknowtheyfoundoutitwasbuiltovertheexactplacewheretheyusedtohangwitches,backinthesixteenhundreds?That’swhytheEmoDomewasalwaysleakingandgrowingmoldandstuff.Sal’sgoingbananas,butatleasthe’srelievedtoknowit’snotanykindofstructuralfault.”
Ethanlookedshocked—althoughmaybenotsomuchbymywords.Hisgazewasrovingaroundthehouse.
“Ilikewhatyou’vedonetotheplace.”Helethisbackpackslideoffhisshoulderandfalltothegroundwithathump.“Are
thosenewwindows?They’vereallybrighteneditup.”
“Thanks,”Isaid.“SoletmeshowyouwhereIkeepPye’sfood.Wantabeerorsomecoffeeorsomething?Youmustbethirsty
afteryourflight.Howmanyhourswasit?Twenty-two?”
“Twenty-four.”Ethanfollowedmeintothekitchen.“Sure,I’lltakeabeer.Butyoudon’thavetoshowmePye’sfoodnow.
There’splentyoftimeforthat,isn’tthere?”
“I’mafraidnot.”
BothEthanandIturnedatthesoundofaman’sdeepvoice.ItwasDerrick,comingdownstairswithourbags.
Andasalways,myheartdidalittledanceinsidemychestwhenIsawhim,evenafterallthesemonthsoflivingtogether.
Hewasfreshlyshoweredfromhismorningrun,dressedinhisubiquitousblackT-shirt,jeans,andmotorcycleboots.
Helookedabsolutelydelicious.Andhewasmine,allmine.AndIwashis.
Andwebothhadeveryintentionofkeepingitthatway.
“Hi,”hesaid,settingdownourbags.I’dfinallylearnedtopacklight,soit’snotliketheyweighedmuch.“I’mDerrick,
Jessica’sfriend.”
“Hi,”Ethansaid,stickingouthisrighthand.“I’mEthan,Jessica’sbrother.”
“Greattomeetyou.”DerrickpumpedEthan’shand.“I’veheardsomuchaboutyou.Infact,canI—”
AndthenDerrickpulledastartledEthanintohischest.BecauseDerrickhadturnedintoahugger,too.
“Uh—Imean,Iguess,”IheardEthansay,soundingalittlestrangledfromDerrick’sembrace.HewasawkwardlyholdingthebeerI’dgivenhim,tryingtokeepfromspillingit.“I’veheardalotaboutyou,too,man.”
ThenDerrickletEthango,butonlytoholdhimbybothshouldersandstaredeeplyintohiseyes.“Iwantyoutoknowthat
Iloveyoursister,”hesaid.“AndIintendtomarryher.”
“Uh,”Ethansaid,hisgazedartingtowardmeashetriedtohideasmirkatthisovershare.“That’sgreat.I’mgladtohear
it.”
“Okay.”DerrickgaveEthanafriendlyslapontheshoulderandthenreleasedhim.“Gotthatoutoftheway.Nowyouronly
jobistokeepPyealivewhilewe’regone.Thinkyoucanhandlethat?”
Ethanlookeddownatthecat,whowassittingwherehecouldusuallybefound…atDerrick’sfeet.“Seemssimpleenough.”
“Itis,”Isaid.“I’veleftalistofinstructionsabouthiscareinthekitchen,butsincehespendsmostofhistimeoutside,
youprobablywon’tevenseehimmuch.Weusedtohavetokeephimlockedinbecauseofwolves,butthatproblemgotsolved.”
“Wait…wolves?”EthantrailedaftermebecauseI’dheadedtothefrontdoorafterDerrickandthebags.
“Yeah,”Isaid.“Noneedtoworryaboutthoseanymore,though.I’mleavingyouthekeytomycar.Justmakesureyouplug
itineveryonceinawhile.DinaandMarkknowyou’rehere,socallthemifyouneedanythingandcan’treachme.Dinacan’t
waittohearfromyou,asamatteroffact.Didn’tyouusedtogotoschoolwithMark’slittlesister,Cat?She’sbackin
town,too.IthinkDinawantstohaveyoubothoverfordinner,orsomething.”
“Uh,great.Wait,”Ethansaid,asIliftedmymotorcyclehelmetfromthehallbench.“You’renotevengoingtostickaround
forafewdaystohangout?Ihaven’tseenyouinages.Doyouhavetoleavenow?Rightnow?”
“Wedo,”Derricksaid,soberly.“I’msorry.Butthere’satownthat’sinverygravedanger,andwehavetogohelpsaveit.”
Ethanlookedatus—atme—likewewerecrazy.“Danger?Whatkindofdanger?Jessica,youownaclothingshop.Whatisthere,afashionemergency?Whatthehellisgoingon?”
IglancedatDerrickandsawhiseyes—eyesthatI’doncethoughtsohardandflinty,likesilver,butwhichInowknewwere
softandwarm,likegoosedown—andknewwhathewasurgingmetodo.Itwassohard,though,aftersomanyyearsofnottelling.
Still,forDerrick—andforEsther,whowasgrowingnotonlyintoapowerfulwitch,butamature,responsibleyoungwomanunder
mycontinuedmentorship,andforalltheotherwitcheswho’dhiddentheirpowersforsolongbecauseoffearofpersecution—I
didit.
“Ethan,”Isaidgravely.“I’mawitch.DerrickandIarebothwitches.Derrick’smom,infact,istheancestralgoddessof
alllife,Gaia.Andwhenthere’satownthat’sintroubleofasupernaturalnature,sheletsusknow,andwegothereand
seeifwecanhelpout.That’swhat’shappeningnow.SoIcan’tthankyouenoughforcatsittingwhilewe’regone.Beccaand
Zahrahcan’tdoitbecausethey’realreadytakingcareoftheshop,andEstherandGabbyreallyaren’toldenoughtohouse-sit
ontheirown.”
“Thoughthey’dloveto,”Derrickadded.
Ethanstaredatuswithoutexpression.“Witches,”hesaid,finally.“Youtwoareacoupleofwitches.”
“Yes,”Isaid,bitingmylowerlip.“Doesthatfreakyouout?”
ThistimeEthandidn’tbothertohidehissmirk.“No,notatall,actually.Itexplainsalotofwhatwentonaroundhere
whileyouwereinhighschool.”Thenthesmirkfaded.“Youhaven’ttoldMom,haveyou?”
“Oh,Godno.”Ishookmyhead.“We’regoingtodropbyandseeherandDadthistrip—andDerrick’sparents,too.ButIdon’tthink—Imean,we’regoingtotellthemwe’regettingmarried.Butthewitchthingjustdoesn’tfeellikesomethingMomandDadwouldbequitereadyto—”
“Yeah.”Ethanshookhishead.“Iwouldn’ttellMomifIwasawitch,either.”
Ismiledathim.ThenIreachedupandkissedhimonthecheek.“Thanksagainforhelping.”
Hegrinneddownatme.“Anytime,sis.I’mjustgladtoseeyousohappy—finally.”
“Thanks.”Ibeamedathimandtuggedmyhelmetovermyhead,whileDerrickgrabbedourbags.
“Seeyou,Ethan,”hesaid.
“Yeah,seeyou,man.”MybrothercametothefrontdoorwithPyeathisheelstoseeusoff.“Takecareofmysister.”
DerrickthrewEthanonelast,glorioussmile.“Iwill.Butshedoesn’tneedmeto.Yoursisterismagic.”Acknowledgments
Ioweanenormousdebtofgratitudetomanyindividuals—mostofallyou,myamazingreaders,withoutwhomthisbookwould
neverhavebeenpossible.Butfirstawordaboutthesubjectmatter:
WestHarborisafictionaltown.Thisfactdoesn’texcuseanymistakesImayhavemadeinwritingaboutConnecticut,aplace
I’vevisitedmanytimes,andwhichisfilledwithwonderfulpeople,afewofwhomI’mluckyenoughtocallfriends.
UnlikeWestHarbor,theConnecticutWitchTrialsarenotfictional.Butatthetimethisbookwasbeingedited,Connecticut
statelawmakerswereconsideringposthumousexonerationsforallresidentstherewhowereaccusedofwitchcraft.Suchexonerations
wereunheardofupuntilafewyearsago,whenamateurhistorians,descendantsofthoseaccusedofwitchcraft,researchers,
andevenschoolchildrenbegandemandingthem.
Soadditionalthanksareowedtoallofthosewhohavebeenfightingsohardandforsolongforthe“witches.”Likesomany
membersofmarginalizedcommunities,thesepeople—thevastmajorityofwhomwerewomen—hadnoonetofightforthemwhile
theywerealive.I’msogratefulthatthisischanging,andIhopethechangecontinues.
Specificthanksareowedtothefollowingpeople:myagent,LauraLanglie;editor,CarrieFeron;andassistanteditor,AsantéSimons,fortheirkindnessandpatiencewhileIwaswritingthisbook,aswellastoBethAder,GailAder-Fecci,JenniferBrown,GwenEsbensen,MarkandDinaGambuzza,TrishThomas,RachelVail,andespeciallyMicheleJaffe,allofwhomhelpedsomuchinsomanydifferentwayswhileIwaswritingthisbook.
Andfinally,mybiggestthanksofalltomyhusband,BenjaminEgnatz:there’dbenomagicinmylifewithoutyou.AbouttheAuthor
MEGCABOT’smanybooksforbothadultsandteenshaveincludednumerous#1NewYorkTimesbestsellers,withmorethantwenty-fivemillioncopiessoldworldwide.HerPrincessDiariesserieswasmadeintotwohitfilms
byDisney,withathirdontheway.MegcurrentlylivesinKeyWest,Florida,withherhusbandandvariouscats.
Discovergreatauthors,exclusiveoffers,andmoreathc.comPraiseforMegCabot
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FromtheNotebooksofaMiddleSchoolPrincessseriesCopyright
Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentsareproductsoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously
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