WishCraft

by Savannah Kade

  His brain went through it logically, since what he saw stunned him. He’d walked in with Delilah, he hadn’t lit candles. They hadn’t been burning all day either. There wasn’t a wax drip in sight. And as he watched, still a little stunned, one by one they winked out.

  His gaze came back, amazed, to rest on Delilah.

  The tone in her voice was resigned. “I’m dangerous. It’s why I didn’t want to get involved with anyone. The first ideal of Wicca is ‘harm none.’”

  Brandon knew that, he’d read it in his witchcraft book. There was a sign with those words as you entered and exited Blessed Be. He’d told himself he wasn’t harming her. More like teasing her.

  “You’re not dangerous, Li.” His brain caught on something. “Besides, I thought Juliet was the most powerful of the three of you. So how did you, the less powerful one, get to her?”

  Delilah shrugged. “Maybe she didn’t see it coming. You can do all kinds of things with spells, but you have to do them. You have to think of it ahead of time and you have to remember. A lot of times I can’t remember to get milk on the way home from work.”

  “Juliet made you forget you saw her in bed with your husband. More than once. Then she knew she’d screwed it up. She told you she was more pregnant with your husband’s baby than you were. Then she cast another spell on you to get you to come back and forgive her. And you honestly believe she didn’t see it coming?”

  Delilah blinked.

  “Baby, you didn’t do it.” His arms tightened around her, the feelings settling in. He’d been uptight, because you never knew where these big talks might lead. But they were going to be okay—even if they clearly had a long way to go. “You lost your baby trying to save her and hers. I read that you have to have pure emotion for a strong spell. Is that right?”

  She managed a small nod in response, though she didn’t look at him.

  He leaned over, to where he was practically speaking into her hair. The feel and the smell of her next to him were almost overwhelming. “I doubt you had a single pure emotion about your sister or even your husband those days.”

  Delilah sank into him and his eyes closed as he held her. This was where he belonged. With his arms around Delilah. Here on his couch. Waiting for her to smile at him again.

  She looked up. “I’m sorry for what I did to you. Really sorry. I was way out of line.”

  “Apology accepted. If you’ll take mine.” He grinned. “I’m sorry for what I did, too. Even though it didn’t work at all.”

  She nodded, then laughed. “What were you trying to do anyway?”

  Oh great. She wanted to know that! But he needed to confess. They were clearing the waters. Still, even though he told himself it was the right thing to do, he knew his face was beet red. He was simply grateful that the day had darkened into evening and maybe she didn’t see. He worked to keep his voice steady. “I tried to cast a love spell on you.”

  “With Tansy? What did you—”

  He jerked back. “How did you know what I bought? Are you spying on me?”

  She looked at him like he was nuts. “My brother owns the store. We went through the receipts.”

  “I paid cash.” How the hell had they gotten his shopping list? Was there a camera in the store? Oh, hell, it was a family of witches, he could just guess how they figured it out. “So it wasn’t enough that you messed with my brain, you had to spy on me, too?”

  “It wasn’t like that. You know, if you were casting love spells with Tansy you were really off base.”

  No shit, he was off base. He felt violated all over again.

  Delilah got up and paced. “You bought the ingredients for the equivalent of a spell bomb the first time. If you had Tansy and the black and green candles . . .”

  He was so busy being upset at her again, he didn’t register that her voice had trailed off. He didn’t like where this was headed or the knot it made in the middle of his chest. He wanted to ask if she knew what he’d eaten for lunch or what searches he’d done on the internet at work today.

  She turned and stared at him. “Your spells did work. Just not the way you wanted.”

  She was angry at him? Brandon stared back at her, wondering where the hell she thought she had the right and where she was going with this.

  “You did it.”

  She looked like he’d killed her puppy.

  Then she got mad and yelled. “Tansy is for female problems! You made that pregnancy! That’s why there was never a baby. You put a spell on me and you screwed it up!”

  Where did she get off getting upset at him about this? Who knew how many she’d put on him. He was opening his mouth to say so when she burst into angry tears.

  “I wanted that baby! There is nothing I wanted as much as a baby.” Her shoulders heaved and Brandon braced himself for whatever she might throw his way: harsh words, a spell, the lamp.

  Instead she took a few deep breaths and sniffed twice, trying to get herself back together. “You couldn’t have picked a better way to get revenge on me. You found the one thing I really wanted. Something I didn’t even know I wanted that badly.”

  She gathered her purse from where she set it by the front door. “I’m going home. I’m going to put a binding spell on you so you can’t mess with anyone else.”

  “And who’s going to stop you, Delilah?”

  She looked like he’d slapped her, but that was ridiculous. “Fine, promise me you won’t do anything else.”

  “Delilah, with you gone there won’t be any need.”

  She nodded, yanked her purse to her shoulder and headed out the door.

  Chapter 36

  Several days later, Delilah still didn’t know quite how it had happened. One minute Brandon was holding her, telling her it wasn’t her fault. The next she’d been yelling at him.

  Looking back, she’d accused him of getting his revenge. That’s what he’d been trying anyway. By accident, he’d succeeded far better than he planned. That idiot, using Tansy in a love spell. That Almanac was doubly dangerous because of the occasional error. Lilac was for love spells. Any decent witch would know better. Anyone with a rudimentary herbal knowledge would never put Tansy into a love spell. But an idiot with a book sure would.

  She shouldn’t have said those things.

  But he hurt her. The fact that there was no baby was a very bitter pill to swallow. That Brandon had fabricated the whole thing was a knife in the back. Even though he hadn’t intended to make her think she was pregnant, he had been trying to get back at her. She probably could have lived with one or the other, but that Brandon caused such great hurt, and that he’d been trying to hurt her was just too much.

  She was better off without him, she knew. They were a volatile match right from the first day. If only that first forget spell had worked.

  Delilah went to work, she came home and slept, she went to work again. She put in extra shifts and stockpiled spare days because it seemed like a good thing to do. By the second week she began thinking about taking a vacation. A real vacation. She hadn’t had one since she’d started the job almost a year and a half ago. She hadn’t thought of anything beyond the next day. Until recently. But now . . . now she needed to get somewhere and find herself. The idea rolled around in her brain—five days off somewhere alone.

  She swore off all spells that altered anyone but herself.

  She didn’t run into Brandon.

  Tristan came over for dinner and breakfast a few times. When he was avoiding the subject of Brandon, he talked about Yasmin and how it appeared Delilah was right about his assistant. Of course, she was. When he was tackling things head on he told her she was better off without Brandon. Verbally she agreed. To herself she figured she’d completely messed it up.

  Tuesday night, she made herself an apple and raspberry pie. Then she sat down with a steaming slice of it, doctored with caramel sauce and a scoop of really good French vanilla ice cream. She popped the top on a pale ale and—while she limited herself to just the on
e—got tipsy enough to let herself really think about Brandon.

  She didn’t hate him. She just ached whenever she thought about him. She finally opened her brain enough to ask herself how it was that Brandon managed to cast spells on her when she’d been protected from them. She and Tristan had seen the protection spells—the fine thin layers that the birch bark smoke showed. But she’d also seen the globs Brandon put there. They should have slid right off her with no effect. Yet he’d been able to make her think she was pregnant. He’d made her turn the test positive.

  If she had done the protection spells herself, Delilah would have easily written the incidence off as something she messed up. She’d certainly not been meticulous girl this last year. But Tristan put those spells there—carefully, knowing full well she wasn’t likely to take good care of herself. So how had Brandon gotten through that?

  By the time her plate was empty and her beer was gone, Delilah didn’t have any better answers. She wasn’t about to drink another beer to find them. She also didn’t think any decent answers would be found at the bottom of a second bottle.

  So she cleaned up and pulled the shades against the light, before curling into a tiny ball in the middle of her bed and finding a little sleep.

  The next morning after work she waited for Maggie to arrive. Told her about how she’d thought she was pregnant, but wasn’t. Without admitting to any of the witchcraft, she told about how the fight had broken her and Brandon up. How she’d like to take six days in a row off.

  Maggie obliged her.

  Delilah worked the next night. She made last minute arrangements when she got home. For the first time she dug into David’s large life insurance policy. The money covered the very expensive plane tickets and a nice hotel room. By Thursday evening, she was on the beach in South Carolina, watching the waves come in and trying to find some peace.

  Chapter 37

  Delilah sat upright in bed, disoriented for a few moments. As her eyes adjusted, she realized she was in her hotel room and the strange sound like a slow heartbeat in the background was the waves crashing on the shore just beyond her patio door.

  She’d left the heavy drapes open and the sheers allowed the light of a partial moon to filter in. The room was squarish, and nicely decorated with airy colors and beachy prints, but there was nothing in here to compare with what lay beyond the sliding glass door.

  Though it was the middle of the night, Delilah quickly dressed in jeans and flip flops. She slid into a long sleeved t-shirt and quickly pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Her main goal was to get out onto the beach, but she didn’t think it would be a good idea to just head out there in the oversized nightshirt she had slept in. In less than two minutes, she was hauling back the heavy glass door and slipping out to the sand.

  The edge of the patio gave way to a beach that rolled right up and into her slip-on shoes. She stepped out of them, leaving them neatly aligned at the border of her territory and wandered off into the cool sand. There was always a breeze by the ocean, but tonight some mild alteration in the weather pattern kept it fairly warm. With her hands shoved deep in her pockets and her heart hanging out, Delilah made her way down to where the sea lapped at her feet.

  Stopping at the water’s edge, she stared out over the tips of the waves where moonlight bounced at every angle. Only for a moment did her mind absorb the beauty of it, enjoying the pleasure of being the lone person on the beach. Then her brain turned back to the dream that pulled her from sleep.

  It had been simple, really. Jules hugged her and said good-bye. She walked away to her little car and drove off. Much the same way she had the day the whole family gathered to see her off for her first day of college. But in this dream it had just been the two girls.

  Again, Jules’ eyes had been blue. In life, her eyes had been a hazel blend of gold and green, just like Tristan’s. But in all the dreams she’d had Delilah’s shade of blue. Only now, as she stood on the beach, did Delilah get some understanding of that. Although whether it was Jules reaching from beyond her death, or merely her own mind showing her what she’d always known, Delilah was unsure. Finally she saw what she had missed when her little sister had been alive.

  Jules had never truly been comfortable in her own skin. As powerful as she was, it had been hard for her to connect with others. Delilah had seen little of it—she’d been too wrapped up in her own teenage life—but the other kids were always a bit afraid of Juliet. And maybe with good cause. Her younger sister never set fire to anything or put a pox on anyone, but she could have. And with very little effort.

  Delilah rolled her pants up above her knees and walked just a little further into the ocean, to where the waves washed up to her calves. Memories came flooding back, Jules at the dinner table, upset that she had no friends in LA. Not that she’d had many before they moved. Delilah brushed it off, not understanding. After all, she had no problem making friends—so why would her sister?

  But as easy as the craft came to Jules, the rest had not. Only now, years later, did Delilah see. She had been jealous of Juliet’s power more times than she could count. Even as an adult she’d harbored those feelings. But they came and went. Mostly she’d been good at seeing what she did have and being content with it.

  But Jules had been jealous of her for years. There were things her sister said, times she’d commented on trading her power for Delilah’s life. Delilah always laughed it off. Apparently her sister hadn’t been able to. She’d wanted to be Delilah. She’d wanted the house and the husband, when in her own life Jules hadn’t been able to maintain a serious relationship. Looking back, Delilah couldn’t count a single time that Juliet managed to hold onto a real boyfriend.

  No wonder she’d taken David. He was the focal point of Delilah’s ‘perfect’ life. It was easier to admit, standing there on the beach over a year later, that Delilah rubbed it in a little. She hadn’t intended to, but she had Jules involved up to her neck in the wedding planning. She’d talked incessantly about the house they were building, about how they were going to try for a baby. Would Jules like to help decorate the nursery? Her perfect life had once revolved around David, and she always praised her amazing husband for accepting her as she was. Witchcraft and all.

  Yes, she had been very good at seeing what she had. And not so good at seeing what the people around her needed.

  She’d been that way with David, too. He must have been easy pickings for her powerful little sister. Still, Delilah didn’t miss him the way she ached for Juliet. She must not have loved him as much as she thought she did. Looking back, after loving Brandon, she wondered if she’d really loved David at all—or if she had merely loved the life they shared. At least for a while.

  She stood in the ocean for a little bit longer, her thoughts turning to her lost baby. The second one she couldn’t even grieve for because it never existed.

  Later, when she was getting cold and she needed to go inside, she raised both her hands to the sky, finally offering up a silent apology to the moon, since she could no longer offer one to her sister. Then, stuffing her hands back down into her pockets, she turned and went back to bed.

  Chapter 38

  Brandon drove home feeling restless. He’d been taking this class for three weeks now, but it was just another beginner’s witchcraft class. At least he could catalog the things he’d improved in.

  No longer bent on revenge, he paid far better attention in class. He now actually did what he was told to do and practiced tiny little spells. This time, it seemed he was getting things right on target. Then again, he wasn’t using that cumbersome and possibly erroneous witchcraft Almanac either.

  He got better parking spots. Well, everywhere except at the class. There were definitely better witches vying for those spaces. Every time he walked up to the front door, he would pass a space that was wide open, that he hadn’t even seen when he’d driven by. That, it seemed, was the art to most witchcraft. Not that you could make a spot appear, the universe just finagled things in yo
ur favor. But at the mall, he watched car after car drive by an open space. Bethy would shout to him to take it, and he would just smile, still not telling her about any of it. Even though she could see he was nursing a serious wound.

  Still, with Delilah gone, and his magick skills finally improving, it didn’t seem he was any closer to figuring out what he needed than he had been when he started.

  He wanted to forget about Delilah, but as it was turning out that was practically impossible to do. Early on he thought about throwing out the books he’d been reading. It was easy to toss the pregnancy book. There was no pregnancy. There was no need for him to read it. But it had been much harder to toss out the witchcraft book. Although he was no longer looking up spells in it, it was still a Wiccan book of days. It told when the full moons were occurring and when the magicks would have the greatest power. When it was best to do protection spells and when to cast for self improvements.

  Even before he started the class, Brandon found himself reassembling his altar. He’d used a kitchen knife this time, instead of returning to the store and buying another cheap athame. The kitchen blade worked remarkably well, especially when combined with the knowledge he gained from class.

  Brandon was surprised by the simple things that were going right. Investors were frank up front, those who expressed an interest and took up a day of presentations routinely signed on the spot. He and Dan reached their capital level last week and were able to start hiring additional programmers.

  Only later did Brandon realize that Delilah often used the kitchen knife he was casting with. Maybe that’s why it was working so well. He wondered if she affected everything she touched. If maybe she wasn’t aware of what she did.