She had jinxed herself.
CHAPTER TEN
A light tap came at Sky’s door the next morning. She flung an arm over her eyes and burrowed deeper into the pillows.
Memories flooded back into her consciousness. A perfect kiss with Aiden. Her confession. The gut punch when she found out that she was a diversion, a fling that Aiden found amusing.
“Sky, can we talk?”
Aiden’s voice.
“Sweet Nicniven,” Sky muttered. She sat bolt upright, her hair tangled in her face, her shirt lop-sided and sliding off of one shoulder. “Go away, go away, go away,” she muttered.
“I’m sorry for offending you last night,” Aiden continued. His voice was muffled through the door and she could barely hear him.
Sky slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the door. She stood in the hallway but she had no intention of speaking to Aiden or seeing him. At one time, she had wanted him, flustered by his mere presence.
Now she was still flustered by his presence, but in a different way. A potent blend of shame, embarrassment, and guilt swarmed up Sky’s spine, heating her face with a brutal flush of anger.
“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now,” Aiden said.
“You got that right,” Sky muttered.
She moved to the back door and snatched her broom from the rack. Before she took off, she heard Aiden’s voice one last time, practically a whisper.
“You were never entertainment to me, Sky,” he said.
Sky huffed. “How do you expect me to believe you now?”
And she veered into the air.
She knew better than to look back. But she glanced over her shoulder anyway. Aiden was still standing at her door, his forehead pressed to the wood, his hands hanging limp at his sides.
She almost turned around.
Almost.
Then she faced forward again. The wind blew her hair out of her eyes, sending a chill creeping under her clothes. A thick layer of grey clouds had moved in overnight, blanketing Wildemoor in shadows and the threat of thunderstorms, the perfect atmosphere to match Sky’s mood.
She fled to Pagan Posies. Half a dozen Torres children were milling around the orchard, cleaning up after the party the previous night. Sky glided to a stop and propped her broom in the crook of her elbow as she spied Seline who was pocketing the remaining caramels from the party.
“Where’s your sister?” she said.
Seline pointed to the house.
“She’s not awake yet,” she said. “She was up late helping Mom with the celebration.” Seline squinted at Sky and reached into the bowl that held the last caramel. “You should take this,” she said. “You don’t look very well and candy always makes everything better.”
Sky smiled and stroked Seline’s unruly curls.
“Thank you, Seline,” she said.
“And I won’t tell anyone you had candy for breakfast.”
Basil darted up to the table and inspected the empty bowl that had previously held the caramels.
“What happened to the candy?” he said.
Seline cast a sideways glance at Sky as if to say, are you going to tattle on me?
Sky pretended to drag an imaginary zipper across her lips and headed to the house. When she knocked at the door, it swung open and Sky tiptoed inside.
“Is anyone home?”
She peeked into the living room to see Bryony fast asleep on the couch, her face buried in a pillow. Her curls were peppered with pieces of bright scraps of confetti, twigs, and leaves. Sky gently combed Bryony’s hair clean with her fingers.
Bryony grunted and raised her head.
“Go away, Seline,” she muttered.
“It’s me,” Sky whispered.
Bryony twisted around as she sat up to face Sky. She scrubbed her hands over her face and shook her head to wake herself up.
“What happened last night?” she said. “You took off like a bat out of hell. I went looking for you but you just disappeared.”
Sky settled on the couch beside Bryony.
“I went home early,” she said.
“Uh oh,” Bryony said. “That can’t mean anything good.”
Sky nodded. “I broke the spell. Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“There wasn’t really a spell to begin with. Aiden deflected it but he decided to go along with it for…entertainment.”
Bryony grimaced. “Saint Circe above, come here.”
She enveloped Sky in a tight hug.
The door banged open and Seline ran shrieking through the house, followed by Basil. Bryony groaned and pulled away from Sky.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said. “Too many hobgoblins running around. How about some mushroom hunting?”
Sky nodded and managed a small smile for Bryony’s benefit. She trailed after Bryony through the orchard, past the greenhouses and deep into the woods. The sounds of Torres children screaming, laughing, and casting spells back and forth faded until it was nearly silenced by distance and the wind in the trees.
Bryony toed through the underbrush with her bare feet.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she offered.
Sky plucked a peach-orange leaf from a nearby bush and twirled it between two fingers. She tossed it into the air and watched as it drifted to the ground, carpeting the forest floor in a wash of oranges, reds, yellows, and greens.
“I got what I deserve,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to be in love and I let my heart rule my head instead of thinking through what the consequences might be.”
Bryony blew out a breath of a laugh and nodded. “Well, you’re not alone in that department. Plenty of people go a little crazy for a pretty face and a charming smile. Aiden Hall has both of those qualities in spades.”
Sky settled on a patch of moss and laid back, her hands tucked behind her head. She gazed up at the pattern of black branches that swayed against the gray clouds. Bryony shuffled around, kicking at leaves and forest debris.
“Gotcha,” she muttered.
“It was nice while it lasted,” Sky said.
Bryony brushed off the cluster of mushrooms she’d found. She whispered a spell and white light dripped off of them like liquid before it vanished, leaving the mushrooms clean and glistening as if they had just been washed and scrubbed.
Bryony plopped onto the patch of moss beside Sky, tucked her legs underneath her and offered Sky a handful of the tiny mushrooms, no bigger than buttons. Sky took one and popped it in her mouth.
“So, can I ask a question that will sound terribly tactless?” Bryony said.
Sky shrugged. “Might as well.”
“Did you love him? Or did you like the idea of being in love?”
Sky blinked at Bryony, owlishly.
“I…”
Her voice faltered and she snapped her mouth shut. Aiden was handsome, yes. But even now, looking back she realized that she didn’t truly know him. Every piece of information she had collected about him was through gossip she had heard around town.
And if last night had been any indication of his true colors, she certainly wanted nothing to do with him.
“I guess I liked the idea of being in love,” Sky said.
“Meaning Aiden was caught in the wrong place, wrong time,” Bryony said. “You wanted to be in love so badly that your magic responded to that desire. Aiden just happened to be there.”
Sky scrubbed at a tea stain on her skirt and brushed off an invisible fleck of dirt.
“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” she said. “Because it’s not quite working.”
“You could point the finger at me, you know,” Bryony countered.
Sky looked taken aback. “Why on earth would I do that?”
Bryony plucked at the dry grass absently. “Because I was the one who told you to wait it out.”
“And I was the one to make the final decision. I’m not blaming you.”
Bryony wrinkled her nose then held up he
r hand in a staying motion.
“Wait here,” she said. “I have the perfect remedy.”
Bryony dashed off into the woods. Sky could see her for a while, Bryony’s shining carrot-orange curls gleaming in the dull light of the morning. Then Bryony skidded down an embankment and out of sight.
She returned a minute later carrying a bottle of wine and two wooden cups.
“Spiced pumpkin wine,” Bryony said. “I hid a bottle because the hobgoblins at home drink it all before I get a taste.”
She filled a cup and passed it to Sky. Bryony raised her own cup.
“Now that autumn has officially arrived,” she said. “I propose a toast.”
“To what?”
“To being single.”
Sky stifled a sigh and tapped her cup against Bryony’s cup.
“To being single,” she said. “Again.”
Bryony looked delighted. But Sky gulped down her wine and drained it to the dregs. At the bottom of the cup were remnants of spices—cloves, anise, and nutmeg. It wasn’t tea. But she found herself reading it anyway.
A sloppy little star hovered close to the cup’s rim, indicating it was in the past.
Sky couldn’t help but remember the magical stars that had hovered over the Mabon celebration the night before. They had cast the party in a golden glow, the light hazy and soft, like a dream.
It was yet another cruel reminder that her rendezvous was over. She’d had her fun. Now it was time to live with the consequences.
The wine turned sour in her mouth and Sky set the cup aside. Now it seemed the tea leaves were mocking her, rubbing it in her face that her greatest desire was behind her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
As the days melted together, September faded into October. Wildemoor bloomed with the colors of autumn in shades of crimson, shining gold, and fiery orange. Pumpkins lined every porch and perched on every step. The lingering scent of smoke from fireplaces hovered in the air, sharp, acrid, and comforting with its familiarity, the reminder of warmth as the creeping chill of fall became stronger each night.
Sky knew she would cross paths with Aiden again at some point. But she didn’t try to avoid him as she had attempted to before. She simply focused on her business again. With the arrival of a new season, the tearoom was brimming with clients, eager to get a glimpse at what new changes might be coming their way.
Bryony waltzed into Sky’s kitchen one morning in early October, bringing with her a wooden crate full of dark red turnips, bushels of chamomile with bobbing white heads, and golden raspberries.
Sky gathered a handful of golden raspberries and popped them in her mouth.
“I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow,” she said. “What’s the occasion for the surprise visit?”
“A particularly loud infestation of hobgoblins,” Bryony replied. “I needed to escape.”
Sky gestured to the kitchen table.
“Have a seat,” she said. “You’re safe here. Tea?”
“Always.”
After a pause, Bryony added, “How are you holding up?”
Sky poured tea into two cups and carried them to the table, sliding one cup in front of Bryony.
“I’m doing okay,” she said. “The tearoom has been busy.”
“I bet that…helps,” Bryony said with pointed emphasis.
Sky shrugged as she took the seat across from Bryony and peered into the swirling water of her teacup.
“I saw him,” she said. “Yesterday.”
Bryony was silent, eyebrows raised, teacup halfway to her lips.
“And?” she coaxed.
“I was passing The Eye of Newt and he was coming out. He didn’t notice me.”
It had hurt at the time but now it felt…normal. And she needed normal. No surprise love spells. No accidental romances to turn her life topsy-turvy. It had been a whirlwind at the time, falling for Aiden Hall. But now Sky found that she rather enjoyed the peace and quiet that her life had returned to.
Bryony studied her for a moment. “You seem to be handling this whole thing surprisingly well. I would have kicked him in the teeth.”
Sky laughed. “I think enough damage was already done. Besides, it was partly my fault, remember?”
Bryony grunted, clearly disagreeing on that point. Sky reached over and took Bryony’s teacup.
“Let me take a look at that,” she said.
“I don’t need a reading,” Bryony objected. “I’m perfectly fine without vague hints about my future.”
Sky squinted at Bryony with a playful look and tilted the cup toward her anyway. She studied the contents for a moment and her heartbeat quickened.
“What?” Bryony said.
Sky raised her head. “Nothing.”
“Tell me. It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“I thought you didn’t want to know?”
Bryony huffed and crossed her arms. “You just got this sour pickle expression on your face, like what you saw was hideous.”
“Not hideous, I promise,” Sky said. “Just…abundant.”
Bryony’s skepticism deepened, her mouth pulled down at the corners in a wary frown.
“Now you have to tell me what you’re talking about. You’re freaking me out a little bit here.”
Sky set the cup down and folded her hands on the table. Bryony would throttle her if Sky was honest about what the tea leaves prophesied for her future.
Love. Romance. Intimacy.
Everything that Sky wanted and Bryony didn’t.
Sometimes, it seemed the tea leaves were cruel and malicious, mocking her.
But she refused to take the bait. Sky set the cup back on Bryony’s saucer.
“Seems to me,” she said in a coy tone. “You’re going to have lots of fat, happy children running around your feet in a few years.”
It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the bald-faced truth either, a truth that Bryony would reject instantly. And Sky wasn’t in the habit of bringing stress or discomfort on those she cared about if she could help it.
Bryony slid further into her chair with a groan and tipped her head back.
“You have to be joking,” she said.
“How do triplets sound?” Sky chirped.
Bryony made a strangled noise in the back of her throat.
“I already have kids running around my feet day and night,” she said. “Maybe you’ve got some bad tea.”
Sky hummed. “No such thing, I’m afraid. More tea?”
Bryony groaned. “I’m going to need something stronger than tea.”
A tap came at the glass of the kitchen window. Sky turned to see a crow perched on the sill with a scroll of parchment attached to its leg. She opened the window, untied the scroll and the bird flew off without waiting for a response.
In looping purple ink, the scroll read, THE SILVER CIRCLE JOINS TONIGHT.
“What is it?” Bryony said.
Sky passed the scroll to her.
“A surprise coven meeting,” Sky said. “And Samhain is still three weeks away. Do you have any idea what this could be about?”
Bryony shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Looks like we’ll find out after sunset.”
***
Coven meetings were usually reserved for celebrations like Mabon, Samhain, or Yule. Wildemoor was a traditional magic community and the coven was kept to the traditional number of thirteen members, varying in ages. Sky was the youngest member at twenty-four. The oldest member was Mother Hestia at ninety-seven.
The Silver Circle Coven was like a group of guardian angels, watching the goings-on that happened throughout Wildemoor and reporting any incidents of black magic or cruelty by spell casting. If a witch or warlock was found guilty of abusing their power, their magic would be taken from them and they would be turned out of Wildemoor.
A prickle of concern stabbed at the back of Sky’s mind as she fished her black coven robe out of her closet. Had this meeting been called because of her? Was it her misuse of magic with that sil
ly little love spell that had marked her as unfit for witchcraft?
At that thought, Sky slowly sank onto the edge of her bed. To think that one accident might get her kicked out of Wildemoor made her ill. Her stomach squeezed and pitched. Even though she rarely used magic, it was still there. She could still feel it coursing through her veins. She was a witch, through and through. She always had been. And Wildemoor was the only home she had ever known.
If Sky didn’t have Wildemoor or her magic, then what was she?
Merely human.
Sky tugged on her robe, pulled it tight around her until the fabric felt like a reassuring embrace. Various forms of apologies raced through her mind as she moved into the kitchen and retrieved a pot of tea with a single cup for the tea-pouring during the Circle. She stepped out onto the porch and a gust of cold air blasted her in the fase.
Sky tucked her chin into the collar of her robe, recoiling from the chill. She reached for the broom by the door, got a running start, head bowed against the wind, and she was airborne.
Ever since the Mabon celebration almost two weeks ago now, the sky had been overcast and cloudy, threatening to rain in a massive downpour but not a single drop was spilled. Lightning darted from cloud to cloud in flashes of gold and pale blue. The air crackled with electricity, sending goosebumps rippling across Sky’s skin.
Mother Hestia was a weather witch. She had been able to conjure storms and dry spells with a snap of her fingers for as long as Sky had been alive. Mother Hestia made magic look as easy as breathing. If anyone knew the reason behind the grim atmosphere that had settled over Wildemoor, it would be Mother Hestia.
The meeting meadow was well past Pagan Posies at the outskirts of town. There was a sacred oak at the center of the clearing. The branches sprawled wide like welcoming arms and in the heart of the trunk was a small tongue of flame where the ceremonial fire had been lit. The tree never burned, never even bore a single scorch mark.
Sky was one of the last to arrive. Eight other witches and warlocks had already gathered around the oak, hands joined together to form a crescent moon-shape waiting to be completed to full moon status by the other witches and warlocks that were flying in.
Jinxed (Coven Corner #1) Page 7
