Spells Trouble

by Kristin Cast

  Hunter set the jar in the empty cauldron and resumed her scan of the few remaining jugs of moon water. Again, the tips of her fingers heated as she glossed them over the final Mason jar labeled: MANGANO CALCITE. Hunter couldn’t quite remember when she’d prepared this batch of moon water, but she was no stranger to its loving, compassionate, forgiving energy. It was one of her go-tos. She placed the second Mason jar into the cauldron and balanced the heavy bowl as she descended the stepladder and shuffled to the kitchen island.

  The moment she placed the cauldron on the counter, her phone vibrated. It was funny how little coincidences like that happened. Like the universe was speaking directly to her, telling her she was doing the right thing, on the right path. Hunter suppressed the smile lifting the corners of her lips and tapped the notification. Emily’s latest message in the group text lit up the screen in all caps. They were here.

  Hunter blew out a calming breath and brushed her ponytail off her shoulder. She could do this. She had to. She ran her hands over the bumpy outline of the moonstones in her pocket, picked up her cauldron, and hurried to the front door.

  Mercy continued to tug on the pillow fringe and blankly stare at the floor while Hunter balanced her cauldron in one hand and opened the door with the other. The jars clanked as she pulled open the door, rushed out, and nearly collided with Jax.

  Jax’s black brows knitted and he held out his hands. “Need some help with that?”

  “Yeah, definitely.” Hunter’s cheeks heated as Emily and Kirk stepped onto the porch and the trio swarmed her. “Thanks for coming over so quickly.”

  Jax took one jar of moon water and the black-and-white stone clinked against the glass. “We came the second you sounded the alarm.”

  Emily crossed her arms over her chest and blew a bright pink bubble. “Yep,” she said as the gum popped without leaving a trace of sticky pink on her glossed lips. “All of us.” She rolled her eyes and tilted her head in Kirk’s direction.

  The quarterback reached for the second jar and hiked his broad shoulders. “What? You guys came and got me because I was included in the group text, too.”

  Hunter rubbed her fingers over the rough outlines of the moon phases etched in the side of her cauldron. “Well, I need all of you to make this spell work, so—”

  Kirk held up the jar. “Wait, wait, wait. Spell? Like actual witch stuff?” He handed the jar to Jax and brushed his hands on his pants.

  “Duh. They’re actual witches.” If Emily kept rolling her eyes she’d puke before the sun finished setting.

  Kirk ran his hand through his hair, further spiking the gelled tips. “So, what? Are we going to do a séance or something?”

  “No, moron.” Emily shoved the confused football star. “Hunter’s text said we’re here to help Mercy, not make everything worse.”

  Kirk’s thin nose and round eyes scrunched as he rubbed his shoulder. “Talking to her mom’s ghost could make things better.”

  Hunter’s pendant heated against her chest. “Stop!” She clenched her jaw and flattened her palms against the cool brass cauldron. “We’re doing a spell to cleanse Mercy of her grief. She—” Hunter swallowed and tucked back a strand of hair that had fallen from her ponytail. “She goes through these periods where she won’t even talk. She just sits there crying, or worse, doing nothing at all.” She motioned toward the large window that looked in on the couch and part of the living room. Sunlight continued to drain into the horizon, giving the group a better view of the bereaved twin. She’d remained on the couch, awash in the gentle golden glow of the setting sun and the antique chandelier.

  Emily’s fingertips flew to her lips. “Oh, Mercy.”

  Jax’s smoked topaz skin smoothed as he set his jaw. “We’ll do whatever you need.” Rocks clanked against glass as he lifted the jars. “I’m assuming we’re using these?”

  Hunter nodded. “They’re moon water. If I do the spell right, they’ll wash away her pain.”

  Kirk shoved his hands into the pouch of his hoodie and took a nearly imperceptible step back.

  “Kirk, I don’t have time to hold your hand through this. You’re either in or out. Make a decision.” Hunter’s pendant remained hot against her skin as she narrowed her eyes at Mercy’s boyfriend.

  He stiffened and lifted his chin toward the darkening sky. “We’re helping Mercy, so I’m in. No question.”

  The moon was brighter now, its glow no longer paled by the harsh brilliance of its sister sun. Hunter’s fingers itched to draw down its powers. “Good. Just don’t make a big deal about it.” She swept her gaze along her three friends. “Mercy has to be an active participant, but she doesn’t know that yet,” Hunter said as she adjusted her grip on her cauldron and turned to open the door.

  Emily rushed forward and propped open the screen with her foot. “Then how do you know she will be an active participant?”

  Jax and Kirk had followed and mirrored Emily’s furrowed brow concern.

  Hunter shrugged and gripped the doorknob. “There isn’t a spell Mag has met that she hasn’t wanted to be a part of.”

  “Wait.” Kirk cleared his throat and scrubbed his hand down his cheek. “Your aunt isn’t here, is she? I don’t think she likes me very much.”

  Hunter bit the inside of her cheeks. She’d laugh again someday, but not today. “She’s napping. She naps a lot. Very … catlike.” She turned the handle and leaned against the heavy wood. “If it helps, she doesn’t really like anyone.”

  Like she’d read Hunter’s mind, Mercy popped up off the couch the second her twin pushed open the door. “We’re doing a spell? To talk to Mom? To see her?”

  For a moment, Mercy was herself again. But it faded as quickly as it came. She knew just as well as Hunter that the magic needed to lift the veil was its own form of evil.

  The quarterback shoved past Jax and Emily into the house. “What’d I tell ya? My girl and I are on the same page.”

  Mercy dropped the tassel-rimmed pillow and stepped forward. “Kirk, what are you—”

  “Hey, numb nuts,” Emily began before squeezing past Hunter and extinguishing another pink bubble. “Hunter already said that’s not what we’re doing.”

  Hunter stepped aside as Jax entered and held up the jars of moon water and gave each a little shake. “We are doing a spell, though.”

  Kirk’s long legs quickly carried him to Mercy’s side. “Dude.” He draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him. “Hunter said not to make a big deal about it.”

  Hunter carried her cauldron to the middle of the room and set it on the floor. “Yes, Mag, we’re doing a spell.” She rubbed the bumpy moonstone outlines in her pocket. “All five of us. To help you.”

  Emily hooked her arm around Hunter’s. “Because we love you.”

  Jax set the jars down next to the cauldron and twined his calloused fingers around his best friend’s. “And care about you.”

  Kirk kissed the top of Mercy’s head. “And want you to be okay,” he said and buried his cheek in her dark waves.

  Mercy chewed her lip in that dramatic way she did when she wanted to impulsively shout yes but instead added a few moments of silence for effect. Even in the clutches of grief Mercy knew how to command an audience. “I’ll do it.”

  The moonstones vibrated in Hunter’s pocket. They’d heard the promise of a spell, sensed Hunter’s energy and the fuel from the rising moon, and were ready to get to work. Hunter dug them out and motioned for her sister and friends to gather around the cauldron.

  “Mag, you’re next to me. The rest of you will sit here, here, and here.” She pointed to the floor in three specific areas that surrounded the copper bowl. She used her free hand to gather the jars of moon water as Jax claimed the remaining spot next to her and Emily shuffled to the open space between Jax and Kirk. If Hunter ever got a girlfriend, she hoped Jax wouldn’t be as sullen about it as Emily was about Kirk. Although, none of them, Mercy excluded, were completely convinced that Kirk wasn’t a cloudy
bag of old douche. But none of that really mattered. If Hunter was being honest, there was zero reason for her to think that she’d have a girlfriend any time before graduation. At Goodeville High, if anyone else’s sexuality landed outside of the hetero portion of the spectrum, Hunter and company definitely didn’t know about it.

  The moonstones thrummed and sizzled against Hunter’s palms as she cupped them and held her hands over the empty cauldron. “Pick whichever stone calls to you.”

  Jax, Emily, and Kirk blinked at one another before each shrugged and nodded like they shared a hive mind.

  Emily tucked a stray curl behind her ear, leaned forward, and plucked a stone from the pile. “Whoa. It’s warm, like, really warm.”

  Jax went next. He wrapped his fingers around the pearlescent orb and smiled. “It’s magic. Real magic.”

  Kirk’s eyes widened as he picked up a stone and inspected it. “Have you ever seen Sabrina?”

  Hunter ignored him as Mercy carefully stared at the final two stones. “I can’t feel anything, H. I’m all blocked.”

  Hunter chose for her sister, handing her a lovely pink-tinted moonstone that was the smallest of the bunch. “You’ll be good as new after this.”

  Jax rolled the charged rock between his palms. “What exactly is this?”

  Mercy clutched the little stone against her chest and cocked her head. “You’re going to scry, aren’t you?”

  Hunter didn’t want to share with the group. What if she failed? It was quite possible she’d bitten off way more than she could chew, and they’d all end up holding warm and aggravated moonstones while staring at a basin of room temperature water. No, she wouldn’t tell. She’d pull a Mercy and leave it up to her friends’ imaginations.

  The wood floor made a hollow clank as Kirk set his rock in front of him. “Scry? Is that what it’s called when you take out an emotion, kill it, and bury it in a hole?”

  Emily sucked the air from a bubble and placed her stone on the back of her hand. She spoke as she balanced the moonstone and studied her perfectly manicured nails. “It’s the act of using a crystal ball or something reflective, in this case I’m assuming it’s the jars of water, to see, like, the future and stuff.”

  Hunter clenched her teeth to keep her mouth from flopping open. Emily was right. Unfortunately, Hunter wasn’t gifted enough to see into the future (at least, she wasn’t gifted enough yet), but she could perform small spells—or, in this case, a medium-sized one.

  The stone rolled off Emily’s outstretched hand and she caught it before looking up. “Gawk much?” She fisted the moonstone and crossed her arms over her chest. “What? The pretty girl can’t also know things?” She cocked her head and squinted at Kirk. “Try reading a book instead of streaming. There’s no way H would remove an entire emotion from Mag. That’s insane.”

  Hunter opened her mouth to agree, but Mercy’s sniffle pulled her back to what mattered most. “We should begin.” Hunter set her stone in her lap and picked up the first jumbo-sized Mason jar and unscrewed the lid. “So, I’m going to say a few things while I pour the water.” Her mouth went dry as she spoke and she dragged her tongue across her lips. She didn’t have a script or any words prepared or a book to quote. She’d only read about spells like this one, but they weren’t exactly this one. She’d have to trust herself and her abilities, which was a lot easier to do before the moment as opposed to in it. But Hunter did know one thing they’d need to do for sure.

  “It’s important that we set and maintain our intention throughout the entire spell.” Her voice caught. In that moment, she reminded herself of her mother, of last night. Had that only been yesterday?

  Mercy folded her legs against her chest and buried her face in her knees. She felt it, too.

  Hunter cleared her throat and continued, “We’re here to cleanse Mercy of her grief. That is our intention. That is our focus.”

  The three friends nodded and leaned closer to the cauldron as Hunter set the lid on the ground and lifted the jar over the basin. “At this time and at this place we meet before Mother Moon and Father Tyr to call for the cleansing of grief from our friend and sister, Mercy Anne Goode.”

  She lifted the moon water toward the sky and closed her eyes as the Apache Tear clanked in the bottom of the jar. “We humbly thank the Apache Women who shed enough tears for their lifetimes and ours.” Hunter opened her eyes and poured the water into the cauldron. Emily, Jax, and Kirk gasped as the moon etchings flickered to life, then went out.

  Hunter repeated the same gestures and uncapped the second jar and hefted it skyward. “We thank the sweet vibrations of mangano calcite as they free us to love and let go.” Again, the etchings sputtered with magical light as the water splashed into the cauldron.

  Hunter looked up and was met with a wide-eyed excitement that fed her hammering pulse. “When I say, we’ll all drop in our moonstones at the same time.”

  She pressed her fingertips against her pendant and continued, “At this time and at this place we come together, strengthened by friendship and love, to ask for the purification of heart and mind and soul and the return of peace and hope and light.”

  The others joined Hunter as she reached out and held her moonstone over the brimming cauldron. “Now.” She nodded, and the five stones released as one.

  They fell through the water with the slow, magical syrupiness of honey through a sieve. Jagged lines of power cut through the water in electric white currents. Their intention had been granted by the moon and by Tyr and by the power that had stitched Hunter back together time and time again. The frosty white charges connected the glowing moonstones in a sacred symbol, a powerful symbol.

  “Is that a star?” The reflection blazed brilliant white in Kirk’s eyes.

  Mercy unfurled and leaned forward. “It’s a pentagram.” She took Kirk’s hand in hers and sat up straight and tall. “Join hands,” she instructed and clasped her fingers around Hunter’s. “It’ll make the incantation stronger.” No, there was no spell that would keep Mercy Anne Goode away.

  A geyser erupted from the center of the cauldron when the five joined hands. Enchanted moon water rained into their circle like glitter.

  Hunter unclasped her hand from Mercy’s and placed her palm against the back of her sister’s head. As Mercy closed her eyes, a single tear washed down her cheek. Hunter squeezed Jax’s hand as she began the final part of the spell. “Be rid of this despair, Mercy, and come back to me.” She’d intended the last words to be a beacon of strength, a clarion call through the magical haze that filled their quaint living room. Instead, they’d been a whisper, a prayer. The words had rushed from her heart and flew out of her mouth with the ease of an exhale. Hunter released Jax’s hand and rolled Tyr’s pendant between her fingers. She needed her sister back. Her world was unbalanced without her.

  Again, Hunter took Jax’s hand in hers as she guided Mercy’s head down to the cauldron. The water didn’t ripple as her sister’s face broke the surface. It was like glass, like ice, like Goode Lake in the dead of winter—still and peaceful. Mercy’s hair fell into the cauldron, raven wings beneath the calm surface. Hunter’s fingers numbed as she felt her sister take one breath and then another and another.

  Kirk reached out to grab Mercy but was deflected by a magical shield of glowing white light. “Get her out of there!”

  Hunter had been waiting for this. She knew Kirk wasn’t the type of guy to sit back if something went wrong. Not because he was a protector but because he believed he knew what was best. Plus, she had seen Sabrina. If that’s what he thought of her, of them, he’d pull out his pitchfork in no time. “Maintain your focus! Breaking it will—”

  Mercy sat up. Her hair arched through the air with the perfected drama and grace of a TV starlet. Hunter couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t force her eyes away from the glowing cauldron and the image of her sister still caught in the skin of the water.

  Jax’s hand went clammy. “Hunter?” He squeezed her fingers once, twic
e, three times before Hunter brought herself back to the present.

  Mercy’s face and hair dried before any water dripped onto her shirt. “Is that me?” she asked, blinking down at the cauldron.

  It worked. Hunter’s heartbeat hammered between her ears. It worked. It actually worked! Hunter Jayne Goode accomplished an advanced spell using only her natural gifts and the strength of the moon and her chosen god, Tyr. If Jax didn’t have hold of her hand, she’d probably float away.

  “No way!” Emily pointed at the Mercy trapped in the basin of water. “She blinked!”

  Kirk pressed his palms against the floor and scooted back a few inches. “She? That’s an it! A water creature that we’re supposed to, what? Just ignore?”

  Hunter’s nostrils flared and she bit down on the meaty sides of her tongue before allowing herself to react. “It’s not a creature. It’s Mercy. A very small part of her, anyway.” She sat up a little straighter. This was her spell, her successful spell, and she would own it. “We asked to have her grief washed away. Not the whole thing but a tiny piece of it. Enough that she could be herself again.” She gestured to the image of her sister staring up at them from the cauldron. “And that’s exactly what happened.”

  Mercy clapped and managed to sit up a tad straighter. “It is me! I knew it.”

  Kirk scooted back toward the circle and leaned into his girlfriend. “You’re okay with all of this?”

  Mercy cocked her head and shrugged. “Nothing we do is evil or bad. It’s all based in love and light. And, like Hunter said, it was just a small piece of my grief.” She turned and took Kirk’s hands in hers. “Those same two things brought you here tonight to help me, and they did. You were so powerful tonight, Kirk. So perfect. This couldn’t have happened without you.”

  Hunter’s cheeks flamed. Love and light hadn’t brought Kirk there; she had. She had been the beacon of peace and hope. She had wielded the power. Hunter tightened her free hand into a fist. If Kirk had left, and he almost had, she would have figured out how to make the spell work without him. He was unnecessary, trivial. A small blip in both of their lives. A high school fling. Hunter’s jagged nails bit into her palm. In ten years, neither one of them would be able to remember his name. They’d call him “the quarterback” or “that guy” or maybe they wouldn’t call him anything at all. Maybe Hunter would become a Sabrina witch and erase all trace of Kirk Whitfield from her sister’s memory and they’d never have to speak of him again.