9
“Now I get it,” I said, flinging open the door to the basement and taking the steps two at a time. “This is why Aunt Martha showed me that shapeshifter spell for the muffins. She knew it wouldn’t work properly on the muffins. You said it yourself. Shapeshifting spells only change the outward appearance of something. Martha knew that, but wanted me to practice for when I’d use that spell in a situation where the stakes were higher.”
Benjamin followed after me, bounding down the stairs. “What do you plan on using it on?”
“Me,” I said. “That’s how I’m going to solve this case. I’m going to go undercover as Savannah Silver.”
“You had better be kidding!” he barked. “This is reckless, absolute lunacy. You do not have the experience to pull this off safely.”
“Come on, Benjamin. The shapeshifter is already one step ahead of us. They went after Savannah and they impersonated Blake. If we want to solve this thing, we’ve got to beat them at their own game. If the shapeshifter went after Savannah once, they’ll do it again. When that happens, I’ll be ready.”
“And what happens when the spell goes wrong? We’re not talking about a batch of burned muffins. It’s your life, Natalie.”
I went to the mahogany table in the center of the almost empty room. Carefully, I picked up the old leather-bound book. “We don’t have a choice,” I said, watching as the glamour of Aunt Martha’s magic room faded, and the shelves of mason jars, crystals, and a large cast iron cauldron appeared around the perimeter of the room.
“That’s something a novice witch would say,” Benjamin growled. He tugged on the hem of my shirt, pulling me away from the cauldron. “There are always choices. The world of magic is full of infinite possibilities. If you just took a minute to actually think through your actions, you might discover a plan that doesn’t involve you performing a very risky, potentially fatal shapeshifting spell. Do you not recall the title of the spell? It’s specifically for experienced witches.”
“Aunt Martha thought I was ready,” I pointed out.
“Martha was reckless, too.”
Ignoring Benjamin, I spread the grimoire open on one of the few empty surfaces in my Aunt Martha’s magical laboratory. “I don’t know why you’re acting so uptight about this. I’m a witch—and not just any witch, but the only living witch left in the Wilder coven. Playing it safe isn’t exactly part of my job description.”
Benjamin anxiously circled my legs. “You’re going to be a sitting duck, Natalie. You’ll be transforming yourself into the person that the shapeshifter seems to have a vendetta against, and that’s only assuming you are strong enough to survive the transformation spell.”
I started gathering up magical ingredients from around the room that I intuitively thought would add power to the spell. I didn’t know a ton about magic, but I’d gotten a handle on the basics in the last few months. I grabbed five pieces of clear quartz for power pentagram. Then I selected two pieces of rose quartz to represent me and Savannah. I also snatched up a piece of labradorite—a stone that changed color when you looked at it from different angles.
That stone, when combined with an altar made up of representational images and objects, would probably be enough energy to transform me in Savannah for at least the rest of the day. “I don’t know why you’re acting like this. I once remember you saying you’d bet on my every time,” I said.
Benjamin was panting now, more worked up than I was used to seeing him. “Natalie, I’m serious. Think about what you’re doing!”
Then he did something I never thought he’d do.
Benjamin leapt up, pressing his front paws on the table, and he yanked the page with the transformation spell right out of the grimoire.
He hopped down to the floor and proceeded to shred the spell into pieces with his paws and teeth.
I stared, flabbergasted at the sight.
Were you even allowed to deface a grimoire? Would the Wilder ancestors put a curse on you? Would they smite you right on the spot Old Testament-style?
What was the witch equivalent of being smited? I wondered.
Whatever it was, Benjamin did not care.
When he was done, he sat on his haunches and looked up at me with two pissed-off amber eyes. “Now I have your attention?” he demanded.
I nodded, still too shocked to find words.
“Find. Another. Way,” Benjamin said.
Now it was my turn to get angry. “You just ripped a spell out that book.”
“How observant of you.”
“Are you crazy? Have you never seen an Indiana Jones movie? You can’t just go around defacing ancient objects whenever you want. The people who do that are pretty much guaranteed to get squashed by a huge boulder or something.”
“I have my reasons, and I stand by them,” the Rottweiler said.
“Care to share them?” I asked, flopping down on the overstuffed sofa in the middle of the room.
“No,” he said stubbornly.
“You can’t just tear up a spell without any explanation. What’s the problem?”
Benjamin paced in front of the coffee table, clearly agitated. “The problem is you’ll die, Natalie. I’ve watched you cheat death more times than I’m comfortable with.”
“That’s seriously the reason? You're that worried about me?” I sat up and looked Benjamin in the eye—like, really looked at him. It wasn’t arrogance or annoyance in the Rottweiler’s eyes.
It was fear.
And sadness.
The Rottweiler blinked. “It’s not that your plan is bad. It’s just…” Instead of finishing the rest of his thought, he looked down at the carpeting.
I knelt down and smoothed my hand down his back. “I’m going to be fine,” I assured him.
“But what if you’re not?” His eyes were wide, almost pleading.
“I will be,” I said. “And if I’m not, I guess you’ll have another witch to boss around.”
“A witch like you is not so easily replaced,” he said quietly.
“Wow, I didn’t know you cared so much about me,” I said, trying to ease the tension. “It sounds like you actually like me.”
“That’s not what I said.”
I smiled. “It’s kind of what you said.”
Benjamin got up and backed away from me. “I’ve gotten used to the brand of coffee you buy, and I can’t guarantee that my next witch will have the same appreciation of fine food and drink.”
“If it makes you feel better, I don’t want to die either,” I said. “But like I said before, being a witch means putting myself at risk for the greater good.”
“Yes, but the difference is that you are a new witch. Unlike your processors, who learned to use their magic little by little at a young age, you are an adult—by age, if not maturity—and you’ve only been using your powers for less than a year.
“You’re saying I’m like a baby witch.”
“A toddler witch at best.”
I stood up, surveying the torn up piece of paper. “I love you, too, little buddy, but seriously, stop worrying so much. You’re going to give yourself a hernia.”
“I don’t like the fact that you seem to think it’s fine to jerry-rig these ancient spells together and hope for the best.”
“So far, we’ve been OK.” I gave Benjamin a scratch behind the ear. “You’re always on my case about my emotions getting in the way, but what about yours?”
Benjamin lifted his head. “I am not being emotional, I’m fulfilling my duty as your familiar.”
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew through the basement. It lifted the torn up bits of paper from the grimoire and sent them swirling in the air like popcorn kernels in an air-popper.
In the center of the paper, a woman appeared. I immediately recognized the blonde hair and warm smile of Aunt Martha.
She pressed her hands together, and the pieces of paper flew back into the grimoire.
The page took shape as the ripped-up bits began to move
into place as if pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
Benjamin’s voice was a low growl. “Please don’t encourage her, Martha,” he said wearily.
Martha simply smiled, and said, “she’s right. This time it’s your emotions clouding your judgement. I know she’s found her way into your heart, but she has a job to do, too. She is a Wilder witch, and with each spell, she fulfills her destiny.”
A flash of blinding light filled the basement, and then Aunt Martha was gone.
Benjamin and I inched over to the grimoire. Sure enough, the page looked just as it had before Benjamin had dug his teeth into it.
“The witch of the cabin has spoken,” I said.
Benjamin grumbled something under his breath.
I picked up the grimoire. “Let’s go be reckless.”
I sat in the middle of my crystal grid that was arranged in the center of the basement floor. In addition to the crystals, I added a lock of Savannah’s dark brown hair—which was gross, but whatever—and the actress’ cell phone.
The last thing I needed were some pictures of Savannah. Thanks to the internet and a few magazines I’d had laying around, I collected almost twenty pictures of Savannah Silver. Some were from movie premieres where she was all dressed up. Others were candid photos of her walking out of a coffee shop or going for a jog in Malibu.
I looked around at my messy altar. “You know, where I come from, people who have locks of another person’s hair, a stolen cell phone, and a huge pile of celebrity photos arranged in some sort of weird shrine are considered stalkers.”
“Well, where does that leave you, Natalie?”
“This is only for a spell. Then these are all going in the trash,” I said, using a pair of blunt scissors to hack away at a picture of Savannah at the Oscars. “Believe me, making a collage of my sort-of boyfriend’s beautiful, amazing, ridiculously-famous ex is not my idea of a fun afternoon.”
Benjamin nudged one of the crystals with his nose. “Before you do this you need to be prepared for the possibility that you will not be able to perform magic while you’re Savannah. Typically with transformation spells, you’ll take on wherever power or lack of power the person has.”
I froze, feeling anxious for the first time since I hatched this plan. “Will we still be able to talk to each other?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “The bond between a witch and her familiar is sacred, and it transcends almost all forms of magic. Still, shapeshifting spells are unpredictable, so I can’t say for sure.”
“Good to know,” I said. “Anything else before I fire this sucker up?” I clapped my hands together, doing one final check.
Benjamin sat down beside the pile of pictures. “Remember that this spell is only temporary. When you are going through the initial transformation, you’ll lose consciousness for a minute or two. Then when the spell begins to wear off, you’ll sense it. Your body will feel tired and dizzy. You’ll lose consciousness again for a short time as you transform back into your true form.”
I nodded. “OK.”
“To activate the spell, begin by thinking about something that is intrinsically you—something that is strongly linked to your identity. Then shift your mind to Savannah, particularly her appearance.”
I pulled the black elastic out of my hair and shook out my messy bun. “Here goes nothing.” I closed my eyes and picked up the rose quartz stone meant to represent me. Then searched my soul for some piece of my identity to cling to.
But what would that even be?
I’d been the daughter of a single mother living in the Midwest. I’d been the rising star in a prestigious public relations firm. I’d been the heart-broken woman who left everything behind for a fresh start in a world of magic.
But which of those versions was the real me? The only consistent thing in my life was… nothing, really.
I opened an eye and was relieved to see Benjamin still sitting beside me on the floor. “I don’t know what I should think about to connect with my identity.”
Benjamin snorted. “Well, that’s just silly. You’re a very unique individual—willful, compassionate, and courageous. Pick of those traits and hold that in your mind’s eye.”
I shook my head. “You do know that I’m not actually courageous. I do what I do because I know it’s worth the risk.”
“Natalie,” Benjamin said gently. “That is the very definition of courage. Or I can gladly think of a slew of other, less flattering traits that I’ve come to associate with you—you slurp when you eat soup that is too hot, you snore after a stressful day, and I’m not even going to touch your needlessly complicated love life.”
“OK, first of all, that little pep talk went on about ten seconds too long, and second of all, my love life is not that complicated.”
“You’re sitting in a pile of pictures of the neighbor’s ex,” Benjamin said dryly.
I paused, surveying the scene. “I mean, sure—if you take it out of context, my love life might seem a little out-of-the-ordinary.”
“And if you don’t survive the transformation, I’m leaving you like this for all the world to see,” Benjamin said. His tone was joking, but his body was tense. “So see that you do.”
“You really know how to motivate a girl,” I said. Then I closed my eyes again, and thought about how I’d felt after I’d solved the mystery of my Aunt Martha’s death. I thought of the rush of adrenaline that came with going head-to-head with the killer and the joy of knowing my friends and neighbors in the little town of Wolf Mountain would live to see another day.
That was what I’d hold onto.
Underneath all my fears, insecurities, lack of experience, and questionable personal life choices, I was the woman who was brave enough to take a stand and fight for the good side.
Then I picked up the other rose quartz stone in my other hand and visualized the flawless body and glamorous lifestyle of Savannah Silver.
I spoke the incantation, with a couple changes.
What I see is what I get,
My body looks how I expect.
Make it how I want, reborn,
These words will make me now transform.
Light flooded my vision—blues, greens, and reds mixed together like the stage lights of a broadway show. I felt the familiar sensation of electric tingles coating my body, followed by an unnerving numbness.
In the distance, I heard Benjamin’s voice, “Hold the vision of your essence! Don’t let—”
Benjamin’s voice was cut off with an explosion of rainbow light. The basement fell away and everything swirled around me. My body felt like I was in the most intense yoga class of my life. My arms and legs felt like they were being pulled in every direction.
Then, all at once, the chaos stopped. I opened my eyes and found myself in the basement room.
Alone.
Where’s Benjamin? I thought frantically.
I scrambled to my feet, not caring if the spell had worked on me or not. “Benjamin,” I called. “Benjamin, where are you? What happened?”
I heard a soft rustling coming from behind the sofa. “Benny?” I whispered. “Please tell me that’s you.” I wobbled on my new legs, noticing now that I was wearing the same unreasonably high heels that I’d seen in one of Savannah’s photos.
As I moved around to the back of the sofa, I gasped.
A tiny toy poodle was licking its front paws. It had soft, puffy fur that was groomed into perky little pom poms on the dog’s legs and behind.
“Oh no,” I said, kneeling to get a closer look at the critter.
The dog’s eyes flicked up to meet.
They were yellow.
The toy poodle stopped mid-lick, and sprung to its feet. “Natalie!” It’s voice sounded high-pitched and squeaky like a cartoon character. “What have you done?”
I leaned closer, lifting the little pup to eye level. “Benjamin?”
The poodle gave me a look of pure hatred—which was kind of comical on such a tiny creature. “How are you ab
le to lift me so easily! Put me down this instant!” The Benjamin-poodle squirmed in my grasp, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
My laugh sounded light and airy, not my normal raucous guffaw. “I guess this means the spell worked.”
“I can see that,” Benjamin snapped, his yellow eyes narrowing. “But that doesn’t explain how you are able to lift me, and why does everything look so much larger?”
I tucked Benjamin under my arm and went back over to the grid of crystals and photos I had set up. I pointed at an image of Savannah walking a little pup—just like the one in my arms—through some ritzy-looking outdoor mall.
“I think you’re Savannah’s dog,” I said. I noticed a tiny metal tag shaped like a dog bone on the poodle’s light blue rhinestone collar. “Looks like your name is Lulu.”
“Kill me now,” Benjamin groaned.
“Oh, come on, it’s cute,” I said, setting the pup down. As I reached for Savannah’s phone, I caught a glimpse of myself in the screen.
I was the spinning image of Savannah Silver.
And now, I’d get to see what it was like to experience the world as Hollywood’s favorite It-girl.
“Come along, Lulu,” I sang. “We have some star-studded sleuthing to do.
10
“OK, now that is freaky. I feel like I’m looking into a mirror.” The real Savannah Silver sucked down the last of her mimosa and got up from the hanging porch swing. She reached out and touched my hair, letting it fall through her manicured fingers. “But, wow, that deep conditioning treatment is totally paying off. It’s made my hair so soft, don’t you think?”
I nodded, tucking my hair behind my ear. “It’s pretty soft,” I said awkwardly.
Savannah stretched her arms up, arching her back, and letting out a huge yawn. “Thanks again for doing this. I really didn’t feel like dying today. How long are we doing this switch-a-roo for?”
I ran my fingers along the wooden rail of the balcony, admiring the way my gel nails sparkled. “Until the spell wears off,” I said. “I’m not sure, but my best guess is for the rest of the day.”
Starstruck Witch Page 7
