Love Charms

by Multiple

He touched his lips. “I can’t go back to Mariah now.”

  Good God. “Yes, you can. She’s perfect for you. I’m a mess. And a nix. You know, forbidden.” The buzz was a text from Dad. It would have to wait.

  I flipped through screens, searching for the image of the spell book. “I need you to read something for me.”

  Caleb sank onto his bed. “I thought I liked kissing Mariah. I thought we had a spark.” He looked at me, all puppy-dog eyes.

  I wanted to slap him. “Snap out of it!” Finally, I found the photograph of the spell. “Read this to me, then say ten hail Mariahs, go forth and kiss no more.”

  He peered at the image on the phone. “It’s all basic enchantment.”

  “Good. Tell me how to say it.” I flipped to the voice recorder. “Enunciate.”

  Caleb shoved the phone back at me. “I won’t let you blow yourself up.”

  “I don’t have a choice. I have to do this.”

  The door rapped again. “Caleb, I’m about to perform a truth rite if you don’t come out.”

  “Shit,” Caleb whispered. “You have to go.”

  I looked at the window. “You’re sending me out in the cold?”

  “Coming, Mom! I was sending an email to Mariah!”

  I stifled my laugh. “Oh, you suck at lying.”

  Caleb lifted a silk cloth, revealing a silver bowl much like my mother’s. “Go this way. You can come back for your car later.”

  “The portal links our houses?”

  “Caleb! I mean it!” Genevieve rapped on the door again.

  I felt a prickle in my scalp. “She’s doing something!”

  “Go!”

  “I don’t know how!”

  “Right. Nix. Okay, hold your breath and try not to throw up.”

  “Why would I —” Caleb started singing a — what — nursery rhyme? Then he pushed me and the world inverted, the colors splitting into a kaleidoscope that spun in a tilt-a-whirl. I did indeed feel like throwing up, and I gulped air, my lungs constricting like all the oxygen had been sucked from the universe.

  The dissonant clang of something ringing focused my attention, and I could see a circle of silver ahead. I sensed I should aim for it, so I did, and with a horrid freight-train sound, I dove headfirst and landed on the floor of Mom’s lair.

  Hallow popped his head up from his bed. “I see you’ve figured out the portal.”

  I stood up, shaky, disoriented, and sick as hell.

  The ferret covered his eyes. “Aim for the trash can.”

  I stumbled to the sink on the back wall and waited through several stomach heaves, but I didn’t actually throw up. I knelt on the floor, grateful for solid ground.

  “You didn’t hold your breath.” Hallow peered over the edge of the desk. “Rookie mistake.”

  My stomach began to calm down. “Shut up, please.”

  Colors still danced in my vision. What was that place between portals? I stood up, legs still shaky, and peered into the bowl. It showed nothing but my own reflection. Caleb had told me I could come back through it. I put my hands above my head in a diver’s pose and leaped for the dish.

  My hand crashed into the desk, knocking the bowl to one side.

  Hallow wheezed. “This is the most amusing thing I’ve seen all year.”

  I sat in Mom’s chair. “I need help.”

  “I’ll say.”

  I pushed at his furry side. “You are the worst sidekick ever.”

  Hallow nodded. “Probably. Did you get him to read you the spell?”

  I shook my head. “He said it was too dangerous. But he’s convinced I’m his match. Whatever that means.” I remembered the kiss and touched my lips. “There is definitely something there.”

  Hallow closed his eyes. “You people and your monogamy. It’s a lot easier to just raise your tail to the strongest scent.”

  I dropped my head to the desk. “I’ve lost a day. And Caleb is certain I’ll blow up the potion.”

  The ferret sighed. “My bet is on impotence, not pyrotechnics.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I pushed away from the desk and nudged the bowl, bringing up the fog. Maybe you could only dive in when it was activated or something. I raised my arms again.

  Hallow opened one eye. “Don’t bother. You have to say the spell to make it open. You don’t even know how to aim. You could end up in Siberia. Or worse, New Jersey.”

  I lowered my arms. The bratty little furball had a point. “So how do I get back to Caleb?”

  “The old-fashioned way.” He settled deeper into his bed. “In the snow. Uphill both ways.”

  But in the next instant, none of that mattered. The bowl shifted from side to side, and Caleb emerged, landing neatly on the floor right next to me. And within seconds, his lips were on mine again.

  I could hear the ferret making a retching sound, but I shut it out. Caleb pulled me close this time, and I could feel his body fully against mine. His chest was lean but muscled. I wrapped my arms around his back, and he reached to hold my neck and push me deeper against his mouth.

  I parted my lips, and his tongue found mine. He tasted like party food, toasted bread and spice. He couldn’t get enough of me, twisting his fingers in my hair, and I relaxed into him, not fighting the swirl in my head, a spiral of stars like Disney magic. Suddenly, I got it. The tweeting birds and sparkling lights over cartoon kisses. They were talking about this.

  His mouth slowed down. My chest was so tight that breathing wasn’t an option. He turned gentle, teasing my lips with soft quick kisses, moving across my jaw, down my neck. I gulped in air while I could. I’d just met this guy fifteen minutes ago, but the pull inside was like we were already a couple, and flashing through my vision was a future, sitting in grass, laughing, walking along streets, talking, lying in bed —

  I jerked backward. “Why can I see our whole future together?” I took several steps away. “Is this a spell? Are you doing something to me?”

  “No!” His hair was all mussed, his turquoise eyes a deeper hue than even a few minutes ago. “I wouldn’t do that!” He ran his fingers through the black curls. “This is so screwed up. I’m feeling everything they told me I would feel. But it’s you! A nix!” He sat in Mom’s chair. The Book of Shadows rested at his elbow.

  He flipped the page. “Have you figured out what she did wrong?”

  I exhaled. He was going to help me. “Won’t your mother miss you?”

  “I sent a doppelgänger. She’s so busy she won’t notice.”

  “You can DO that?”

  “It’s a first-year spell, actually. Gives us more time to study if we send a copy of ourselves out to do ordinary chores.” He looked up at me, his eyes returning to a normal shade, if our vibrant turquoise could be called normal. “Nothing I’ve learned as an enchanter prepared me for meeting you.”

  I leaned against the desk. “I just found out about all this yesterday.”

  He laid a hand on my knee and traced the seam of my jeans. The contact was electric, and I had to stuff down the need to touch him back.

  “If I’m a nix, why do I feel the same as you?”

  “Could be ordinary chemistry, I guess. Like any human pair.”

  I shook my head. “I’ve been in a lot of pairs.” When he pinched his lips together, I amended, “Well, a few.” I didn’t dare say how many. I had always been, well, hopeful that a new one would be The One. I was known for rushing into things. “And it’s never been like this.”

  The pressure of his hand on my leg increased until he was gripping my knee. “Enchanters don’t really pair off until it’s time for a match, although we’re allowed a dalliance if we start sticking out as unusual among the humans.”

  I snorted a most unladylike laugh. “Dalliance? Like in the Victorian age?”

  He let go of me and stood up. “We have a lot of traditions. You have yours. Marriages. Ceremonies. Vows. Right?”

  “But you’re a person, just like me.”

  “No, I
’m not. I’m an enchanter. I am raised among humans, go to college where I’m told, and during the course of those four years, I am to meet my seven matches and choose one.”

  “Just like that. You fall in love with one of them.”

  “Madly. It just works. I’m sure it’s something in the bloodline that makes us so chemically attracted.”

  “Chemically attracted. Oh, you’re killing me with romance.” I wandered over to a case and peered at my wavery reflection in the glass. I could only make out my headband, which seemed like it was humming, a gentle vibration like a refrigerator makes.

  I pulled it off. It might be doing something to me, and right now I needed a clear head. “Look, Caleb, all that was nice. But I have a bigger problem. Some dude called Dei Lucrii —”

  “What? Who invoked Dei Lucrii?”

  “Why? Is that bad?”

  Caleb’s hands were in fists at his sides. “Yes, that’s bad. He’s a Dark Enchanter. The worst kind. He’s been through hundreds of matches, bred a half-dozen little bastards.”

  I held up a hand. “Then why does he need a love potion?”

  “Wait? Your mother was making the potion for him?”

  “Yeah. That’s kind of weird. Why doesn’t he make his own?”

  Caleb looked positively distraught, his face red and mottled. “Not even a Dark Enchanter breaks the rule of three.” He looks away. “He must have forced your mother somehow.”

  “Why would she bow to that?”

  “She was trying to keep to herself. No one knows why. Well, maybe he did.” He paced in a circle. “I have to get back to the party. My copy won’t behave well for long, and there’s a match in the house. I can’t have her thinking the spell is me.”

  “Can you at least read me the words so I will know how to pronounce them?”

  “I can’t have you doing that. You don’t know anything about what you’re attempting.”

  I slumped into Mom’s chair. “I have to try.”

  He exhaled in a long rush. “I tell you what. You go over the ingredients. If you can figure out what might have set up the blast, we’ll work on the spell.”

  I jumped up to hug him. “Yes! I can do that.”

  He wrapped his arms around me. The warmth seeped back in, like cement sealing us together. “I can’t let go of you,” he said and lowered his face to mine again.

  No headband, no trickery, and yet, the connection was even stronger. This time the softness of his lips created a fire that licked through my body, touching all the important parts, and I pressed myself into him. I wanted to know him, every inch of him, and my hands explored his back, his neck, the curls at his nape. Down his shoulders, those sinewy lean arms. His sides started wide at his chest and tapered down to his waist. The sweater was cashmere, soft and silky. I tucked my thumbs into his waistband, and he jerked against me, a rumble in his throat.

  The effect I had on him became apparent against my belly, and now my breath was ragged. He kept the kiss light and gentle, but his hands started to move, sliding down my back to the waist of my jeans, then up, beneath the cotton shirt. “Just one small contact at the core,” he whispered, and his hand connected with my spine.

  The touch was like lightning, firing through me with a thunderbolt. I clutched at him, my entire body aware of each part of him, and his kiss became a frenzy, claiming my mouth like we were two parts of the same whole. I wanted skin, more skin, and as his hand flattened against my bare back, I felt dizzy with it, sick with it.

  He broke the kiss and pulled me in, tucking my head against his shoulder. “I’m not sure what it’s like for normal humans, but this doesn’t happen to us. Not that anyone has told me.”

  I closed my eyes and buried my face into his neck. “Not for us either. Not for me.”

  We stood like that a long moment, the energy moving between us. Hallow’s little claws tapped along the desk. “Ahem.”

  We turned to him. “What is it, Hallow?” I asked.

  “Lover boy needs to get back.”

  Caleb pulled away. “What’s happening?”

  “Your match is making a move on your doppelgänger.” He sniffed at the bowl.

  Sure enough, the image showed another Caleb, backing into a corner. A statuesque girl in a blue silk dress moved toward him.

  “Shit.” Caleb moved toward the bowl. “I have to get in there.” He turned back to me. “I’ll come back tomorrow. Look at the spell.” He mumbled a nursery rhyme again and disappeared into the bowl.

  I peered into the fog. I could see bits of the scene still, the girl’s sapphire dress, Caleb, diving into himself.

  The girl stepped back and turned for a moment to where I could see her clearly. Her turquoise eyes were a mirror of mine, although her skin was dark and her hair sleek and black. She shook her head, then moved back to Caleb as though nothing had happened.

  “Fooled her,” Hallow said. He licked a paw. “She can’t be too useful an enchantress if she didn’t realize he performed a stun spell on her.”

  “Looks like she’s recovered.” The girl draped her arms around Caleb’s neck, trying to pull him in. He glanced up at us and waved his hands. Fog covered the bowl.

  “Peep show’s over.” Hallow sat back on his haunches. “That was a very risky thing he did, coming here.”

  “I don’t see why a nix is such a curse. Just because Mom married Dad?”

  “It’s a code with a reason,” Hallow said. “Children outside of bloodlines have a high incidence of becoming Dark Enchanters. It’s a way to control the bad guys.”

  “Like Dei Lucrii?”

  Hallow shivered. “Beastly man. Your mother should never have had anything to do with him.”

  I sat in her chair. “Why did she?”

  Hallow shrugged. “Bad judgment apparently runs in your bloodlines.”

  I sighed and turned back a few pages in the Book of Shadows, but every page was Caleb, his face, his lips, his hands. It had to be a spell. Only fairy tales talked about a connection like this.

  I shook my head, trying to force myself to focus. Time to study these ingredients, alkaline and acid, flash points, combinations that could go rogue. Mom was brilliant, but surely she had made a mistake. Her flunky girl-child would have to figure it out.

  9: Potion

  In my dream, giant vials in every color spread out before me like a city of glass. I walked along streets paved with crystals, orange, blue, red, and green. Each doorway was pewter, and white fog rolled out of the cracks.

  At the top of a blue jar, my mother sat, gripping the ledge.

  “You’re going to fall!” I shouted.

  She waved at me, and I cringed, expecting her to tumble down. “Did you fix the potion?” she called.

  “I can’t do it!” I yelled up. “I flunked out of school!”

  “You know enough!” she shouted down.

  Tears streamed down my face. I hated crying, even in dreams. I couldn’t make it stop. “You have to help me!” I reached the base of the jar and tried to scale the side, but the slippery surface made it impossible.

  “You can do it!” she called again, then raised both arms in the air. “Just don’t cry!”

  She fell backward in slow motion. I could see her body, turning in somersaults, tinted by the glass. I pressed my hands against the jar, not wanting to look but unable to turn away. “Mom!” I screamed.

  I popped awake, cheek pressed against the Book of Shadows. Something made a tapping sound.

  I jumped out of Mom’s chair, still upset by the dream. Her headband was rattling on the desk.

  My heart thumped so hard I could scarcely breathe. I wasn’t up for this. Everything new, most of it scary. The silver circlet continued to shake, and finally I placed my hand on it to make it go still.

  The converted garage had no windows, so I had no idea of the hour. Hallow was gone, his bed empty. I actually missed the little rat, sarcastic bugger that he was. At least I could talk to him without fear.

  I fum
bled in my pocket for my phone to check the time. 3 a.m. I wondered where Caleb was, if he slept easily. The circlet began to shimmy again, so I picked it up and slipped it back on my head.

  The Book of Shadows was not as I had left it, but on a blank page. I think I understood what to do. Across the top, I wrote:

  Jet’s Dream

  I drew the city, the vials and doorways, the glass jar, and Mom at the top. Then I wrote the things Mom had said.

  You can do it.

  Just don’t cry.

  I set the pen down. Mom had never told me not to cry before. In fact, she was a big proponent of gettin’ your emotion on. “Don’t bottle it up,” she always said. “Let it all hang out.”

  I picked up the vial of newborn tears. Only a few drops remained. I set it down next to the mushrooms. In the bowl with the pestle, I had crushed a fair amount of the glasswort before falling asleep. I hadn’t mixed anything yet, although I’d discovered a cast-iron pot that looked especially witchy. I didn’t know if you had to say the words while you did it, or immediately after, and I had no idea when Caleb might come.

  The green bottle of Aphrodite’s sea foam was too close to the edge of the table for my klutzy self. I couldn’t imagine how anyone knew it was foam from Aphrodite. It seemed impossible to collect something from a mythical moment. But maybe it was just a name, not an actual recovery from her oceanic birth. It should have evaporated into sea salt millennia ago.

  Actually, that was a lot of salt. The tears. The foam. And wasn’t glasswort a chloromethane producer? And wouldn’t the foam also have methane? What happened when you released thousands of years of built-up methane?

  I backed away from the desk. Introducing water — if you were crying — with the chloromethane trapped in the vial of ancient sea foam would create a vapor. When she added more methyl chloride in the glasswort —

  Yes, yes. The most volatile of all the chemicals. The balance of the potion had to be just right, or —

  A chill ran through me. Mom hadn’t gotten the potion wrong. She’d added something that made an already unstable mix of chemicals even more volatile.

  She’d cried into the mix.

  My circlet hummed and buzzed against my head. I longed for Caleb, needed him with more intensity than I’d ever felt.