A Charmed Life (Coven Corner #3)

by Charlotte French

  “Here,” she said. “This is the best spell for the biggest trees. I’ve got a whole forest in my backyard that started just like this.”

  Finally, Phoebe leaned forward in her seat, showing a spark of interest.

  “Really?” she whispered in awe.

  Then she seemed to remember herself and her gaze flicked up to Hazel. She caught Hazel looking at her and Phoebe slumped in her chair again.

  Hazel reached into her desk and withdrew a basket. She walked down the aisles between her students’ desks and waited as each student selected an acorn for themselves. Phoebe refused to take one. She merely sniffed and turned her head away.

  “Seline,” Hazel said. “Could you pick an acorn for your partner?”

  Seline rose up on tiptoe eagerly, inspecting the contents of the basket for the fattest, shiniest acorn. She picked one up and placed it on the desk in front of Phoebe.

  “That one will make a big oak tree,” she said. “With lots of red leaves in autumn. It’ll be perfect for squirrels and owls, you’ll see.”

  Phoebe poked at the acorn. She seemed to be caught between wanting to lob the acorn across the room in rejection, or clutch it close in the hopes of the magic it contained.

  In the end, she did nothing and left it alone.

  “Get your pots,” Hazel said. “They’re lined up at the windows.”

  The students hurried to carry out her directions. Except for Phoebe.

  Seline carried two small pots back to Phoebe’s desk. She didn’t seem to care that Phoebe was unresponsive and sulky. Seline would continue anyway. She loved planting trees and casting spells. She would do all the work as well as Phoebe’s work if she had to.

  “Now place the acorn on top of the dirt,” Hazel said.

  The students carefully put their acorn in the pots.

  “Pick up your wands,” Hazel continued. “And repeat after me.”

  She began to recite the growth spell. The class repeated after her. A minute later, tiny pale roots twisted out of the acorns and burrowed into the dirt. Acorn caps popped off to reveal a bright green shoot that unfurled into a tender stalk.

  The class whispered with excitement, holding their wands steady. Phoebe gripped the edge of her desk, staring wide-eyed at the sprout of Seline’s tree as it began to grow, inch by inch, taller and taller.

  “Now stop,” Hazel said. “Put your pots back on the windowsill. We’ll work on growing your trees every day for the rest of the month until we plant them at the Mabon celebration.”

  The trees were six inches tall by now, leaves spread and turned upward. The students carried their pots to the windows, peeking at the trees of their classmates.

  “Mine’s an elm! I’ve always wanted an elm outside my window,” one student declared.

  “I’ve got a willow. My mum says they’re good for wreaths at Yule time.”

  “I have a chestnut tree! I can roast chestnuts over the bonfire at Samhain!”

  But Phoebe’s pot remained empty and lifeless.

  In the distance, Bryony gave the recess bell a deafening clang. The students rushed out of the room, jostling each other to be the first ones on the playground to test out their new growth spells on other acorns.

  Phoebe trudged after them.

  “Phoebe, could you stay for a moment?” Hazel said.

  Phoebe glanced at the door, considering making a run for it. With a flick of her wrist, Hazel spelled the door shut.

  “Why didn’t you use magic today?” Hazel said. “I know you’re a very skilled witch already. You’re perfectly capable.”

  Phoebe wouldn’t look at her.

  “You don’t have to perform magic for me,” Hazel said. “But if you don’t complete your lessons, I’m afraid you will be in my class again next year.”

  Slowly, Phoebe turned to look at Hazel.

  “I don’t like you,” she muttered.

  Hazel had heard that from students often enough. But the fact that this was Nick’s daughter caused those words to sting more than they should.

  “I don’t care if you don’t like me, Phoebe,” Hazel said. “It’s not my job to be liked. It’s my job to teach you how to use your magic for good, so you don’t hurt yourself or other people. That’s all.”

  “What if I don’t want to use my magic?”

  “You were born a witch. You will always use magic in everything you do, whether you intend to or not. Besides,” Hazel said, folding her hands on the desk. “After that fever spell you cast, I think you do have a desire to use magic. Just not around me.”

  “I want my mama to teach me magic,” Phoebe said. “Not an ugly, fat old witch like you.”

  Hazel didn’t even blink as Phoebe stormed out of the room.

  If the rest of the school year was like this, it seemed Hazel and Phoebe would be fighting each other tooth and nail every step of the way.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The first week of school dragged by, day after day. Phoebe continued to be strong-willed in her refusal to perform any magic in Hazel’s company.

  During recess on Thursday, Hazel was seated at a picnic table overlooking the meadow where her students were playing. Bryony sighed as she sat down beside her, legs stretched out in front of her.

  “That Phoebe Butler is a stubborn one,” she said.

  Hazel laughed. “You have no idea.”

  “It’s terrible to say but I’m glad she’s in your class and not mine. Seline was telling me how Phoebe won’t even pick up her wand, let alone cast spells.”

  Hazel’s gaze settled on Phoebe at the edge of the meadow, sitting alone. She had her back to Hazel, hunched over…something.

  “You haven’t told me how the date went by the way,” Bryony said with a nudge of her elbow.

  Hazel huffed. “It didn’t.”

  “What?” Bryony said sharply. Her eyes darkened and her mouth went tight, shoulders tense. She was on the war path, prepared to defend Hazel if she’d been stood up.

  “Not like that,” Hazel amended. “It just never really…got underway. The babysitter called as soon as Nick showed up. Said that Phoebe took sick.”

  Bryony snorted a laugh. “And he fell for it?”

  “Well, she was sick. She cast a fever spell on herself.”

  Bryony shook her head. “Seline uses those sick hexes on herself all the time to get what she wants. They’re not effective anymore. We ignore her now. She’s overdone them. She just makes herself miserable and she doesn’t get the attention she’s looking for.”

  “Nick would never ignore Phoebe.”

  “Daddy’s little girl?” Bryony offered.

  Hazel nodded. “I think they’re very close. Phoebe’s mother left when she was three years old.”

  Bryony winced. “Ouch.”

  Bryony, of all people, understood what it was like to have a parent walk out. Her own father had left when she was little, never to come back. She had a stepfather now and a steady boyfriend, but those memories had carved a lasting impression in her mind that affected her even to this day as a grown woman.

  “Also, Nick is human,” Hazel said.

  “Ah, there’s the rub. Humans are extra gullible. And that little girl knows it.”

  Hazel fell silent, watching Phoebe. Her anger was a shield to protect her, to push Hazel away and keep her father close. But Hazel intended to be a steady force for Phoebe, a solid teacher when it came to magic. Whether Phoebe wanted her to be or not.

  “What is it?” Bryony said. “You just went quiet on me. Did I stick my foot in my mouth again?”

  Hazel dragged her thoughts back to the present.

  “No, not at all. You’re right, actually. Phoebe needs a steady presence of magic. Her mother is gone. Her father is a normal human, incapable of casting magic. Phoebe will be a handful. But she’s not any different from the other children I’ve worked with.”

  Bryony squinted at her with a skeptical hum.

  “I know that look,” she said.

  “What
look?” Hazel said, a note of defensiveness slipping into her tone despite her best efforts to hide it.

  “The sour-lemon look. You’re not telling me something.”

  “Bryony…” Hazel sighed.

  “Better just spit it out now. I’ll pester you for days on end until you do.”

  Hazel smoothed her skirt down and tore her gaze away from Phoebe to look at Bryony.

  “I got off on the wrong foot with Phoebe,” she said. “I didn’t think about what it might mean for her if I went on a date with Nick.” Hazel blew out a breath of frustration and pressed her hand to her forehead. “I can’t believe it never even crossed my mind. I was so…”

  “Moony-eyed?” Bryony offered. “Besotted? Smitten?”

  Hazel shot her a look. Bryony shrugged with a grin.

  “I thought you weren’t the romantic one,” Hazel said. “I expected this sort of talk from Sky. Not you.”

  Bryony leaned her elbows back on the table, tilting her head to the side.

  “I’m just finding this amusing,” she said. “You’re usually so put together and…implacable. Invincible. Never thought you’d go weak in the knees for anyone. But you really shouldn’t beat yourself up about it.”

  “I’m her teacher. She’s my concern, my charge. I didn’t think of her well-being. I was selfish and thought of my own desires without any consideration toward her. That was wrong and it could have caused serious damage.”

  Bryony fixed her with a level look. “But it didn’t.”

  “No. And it won’t because I’m not dating Nick.”

  Bryony sat up a little straighter. “I thought you liked him?”

  “I do. Very much. But Phoebe has enough adjustments to make without my intrusion upon her personal life beyond her education.”

  Bryony studied her for a moment. Hazel could see a protest forming in her eyes. But in the end, she decided against it.

  “If you believe that’s the best course of action,” Bryony said with a nod. “Then I’m sure you’ve considered all angles. How did Nick take the news?”

  Hazel glanced down at her hands, tracing the line of one palm with her thumb.

  “You haven’t told him?” Bryony said, incredulous.

  “Not directly, no.”

  “Why? You’re usually so straight forward and no-nonsense about these kinds of things. You don’t lead anyone on.”

  “I’m not leading him on. I just…”

  Why was she stuck on Nick Butler? They hardly knew each other. But Hazel continued to be drawn to him. To pine for a relationship that never even had a chance to take root. What was wrong with her? She never behaved this way before.

  But she didn’t have time to consider those questions any further.

  A shout made Hazel’s head snap up in alarm. Smoke like a giant claw was curling up toward the sky, black and monstrous.

  The schoolhouse was on fire.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Bryony scrambled into action, gathering the children and herding them away to a safe distance, counting students as she went to see that all were accounted for.

  “I don’t have Phoebe!” Bryony called. “She’s not here!”

  Hazel quickly scanned the school grounds.

  There was Phoebe, at the edge of the meadow. Far enough away that Hazel wasn’t worried about her. But she wasn’t paying attention to the commotion either which meant she was focused on something else.

  Hazel drew her wand from the waistband of her skirt and spread her arms wide to cast a dampening spell. This wasn’t the first time a magical fire had lit up the schoolhouse. Spells, hexes, and charms went wrong all the time during lessons.

  To make sure the schoolhouse remained standing, Hazel had placed wards throughout the walls and eaves, small black marks tucked here and there for protection.

  But the scent of smoke would have to be purged from the schoolhouse for days with consistent magic. And if the fire wasn’t tamed, it could spread to other houses, farms, and businesses that weren’t protected with wards.

  Magic crackled in the air like lightning. With a thunderous rumble, the fire dwindled down to a small spark beneath Hazel’s spell then fizzled out completely.

  With wand still in hand, Hazel approached Phoebe and touched her shoulder.

  Phoebe startled and whipped around.

  Spread across the ground was a small altar, complete with a quartz crystal at the center, blackened lines of ash in a pentagram on the ground, and match sticks lined up, three in a row.

  “I don’t appreciate that you set my schoolhouse on fire, Phoebe,” Hazel said.

  “Are you going to tell my daddy?” Phoebe demanded, chin tilted up in a defiant angle.

  “I certainly should. What you did was dangerous and could have hurt a lot people.”

  “I was careful.”

  “That fire was nearly out of your control.”

  Phoebe crossed her arms. “If you punish me, my daddy won’t like you anymore.”

  Hazel blinked, taken aback at the matter-of-fact tone of Phoebe’s voice, the bald-faced truth she so succinctly delivered. Phoebe was purposefully sabotaging Hazel, not just because she hated her as a schoolteacher but because Phoebe wanted to keep Hazel away from Nick.

  “I’m your teacher, Phoebe,” Hazel said. “And your behavior was unacceptable. It’s my job to ensure you get an education in magic. That has nothing to do with my relationship between your father and I. Now, this weekend, you will help scrub the schoolhouse clean of smoke and soot.”

  Phoebe looked insulted. “But that’s not fair!”

  “It’s perfectly fair.”

  Hazel reached down and plucked Phoebe’s wand from her hand.

  “And you will clean the schoolhouse without any form of magic at your command,” she added.

  Phoebe’s face settled in a smooth mask of smugness.

  “Daddy’s going to hate you for this,” she said coolly.

  Hazel turned away, her stomach sinking.

  ***

  Nick had barely parked his truck before he was out and moving toward the schoolhouse in long strides. His face was tense, shoulders a straight, rigid line of worry.

  He headed straight for where Hazel and Phoebe stood next to the schoolhouse. He scooped up Phoebe, enveloping her in his arms, eyes closed with a sigh of relief.

  “Are you hurt?” he said.

  He pulled away, brushing Phoebe’s hair back from her forehead. His hand cupped her cheek, tilting her head to get a better look at her.

  “I’m okay, Daddy,” she said, nuzzling into Nick’s neck. “Can we go home now?”

  Nick placed a hand against Phoebe’s back.

  “In a minute, sweetheart,” he said. His gaze shifted up to Hazel. “I need to talk to your teacher. Get a few things cleared up.”

  Hazel straightened her spine, preparing herself for the ensuing conflict.

  Daddy’s going to hate you for this.

  Nick put Phoebe down on the ground, one hand resting on her shoulder.

  “So,” he said. “I’m still not really sure what happened here. You said Phoebe set the schoolhouse on fire?”

  “She’s a liar, Daddy,” Phoebe said, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

  Nick rested his hand atop her head.

  “Phoebe, why don’t you go wait in the car for me?” he said.

  Phoebe turned to stare up at him, her eyes wide and wounded that he wasn’t immediately taking her word for it regarding Hazel’s trustworthiness.

  “Now,” Nick said, pointing to the truck.

  Phoebe stomped to the truck, climbed in, and slammed the door shut. Nick sighed and scrubbed the back of his neck.

  “All right,” he said. “Tell me everything.”

  Hazel recounted the spell Phoebe had conjured to start the fire. She handed over Phoebe’s wand.

  “Being without her wand won’t stop her from doing magic,” Hazel said. “But it will lessen the damage she can cause.”

  Nick accepted the w
and, rolling it over in his fingers. He shook his head.

  “Ever since I told her that she’d be starting school this year,” he said. “She’s been raising hell. She thinks I’m abandoning her or something.”

  “Many children feel that way. Phoebe will get used to it. In the meantime, this behavior cannot go unpunished. I’ll need her to help me clean up the school over the weekend.”

  Nick raised his eyebrows. “Is that really necessary?”

  Hazel didn’t respond right away. She’d seen this before—parents enamored with their children to the point of blindness, wearing a shroud of denial and excuses for their children’s wrong-doing. It was always a sticky situation to handle, even more so now that she was dealing with Nick.

  “Mr. Butler,” Hazel said as carefully as she could. “Phoebe is a bright young witch. What she is capable of with her magic, at such an early age, is impressive. But that is all the more reason why I have to teach her now that magic is not something to be used for violence and destruction. There are consequences for her actions.”

  “Yes,” Nick said. “Yes, absolutely. I understand. I just…” He glanced over his shoulder at the truck. Phoebe was staring at him through the windshield, arms crossed, chin lowered in a pout. “I had hoped to handle that part on my own. But you’re right. She’ll be here first thing on Saturday morning.”

  Hazel released a slow exhale of relief. She’d been prepared for a fight on her hands. But it seemed Nick was willing to listen to reason more than she gave him credit for.

  “And I would recommend that you lock up Phoebe’s wand for the weekend as well,” Hazel said. “She’ll be cleaning the schoolhouse with plain soap and water. No magic.”

  Nick let out a low whistle. “I’m glad I didn’t have you for a teacher when I was growing up. The face of an angel but tough as nails underneath.”

  Hazel’s breath stuttered. The face of an angel…

  Oh no. She had to end it here and now.

  “Mr. Butler,” Hazel said, glancing down at her hands. “There’s something else we need to discuss.”

  Nick edged another step closer.