“So have mine,” Laurel said. “In fact, they had another meeting after the discovery of the parchment in the grimoire. They demanded that I level up, but Lady Weatherby refused. She said it wouldn’t be fair to the rest of you.”
Millie crossed her arms. “I’m the high achiever in the class. If anyone should level up, it’s me.”
“I didn’t raise the point to be competitive,” Laurel said. “I only thought it was worth a mention.”
I shook my head at Laurel. “Are you sure you’re only thirteen?” She was, by far, the most mature thirteen year old I’d ever met.
Laurel smiled. “You always say that.”
“I guess I really mean it, then,” I replied. “Lady Weatherby mentioned I’d be attending classes. When do we do that?”
“Later today,” Sophie said. “My mom is teaching again.”
“Not Lady Weatherby?” I asked.
“She’ll be there,” Sophie said. “Professor Holmes teaches a lot of our classes, too.”
“He’s nice,” Begonia said. “Much nicer than Lady Weatherby, although he’s her right hand.”
“Is he a powerful wizard?” I asked.
“Oh, definitely,” Begonia replied. “He never shows it, though. His main concern has always been the academic side of things. He’s not interested in the politics of the coven or Lady Weatherby’s shortcomings.”
“He was very concerned about the note,” Sophie said. “I overheard him talking to Meg and Ginger about it in Brew-Ha-Ha.”
“What note?” I asked.
Begonia sucked in a breath. “You received a threatening note in class before your bachelorette party. You gave the note to Professor Holmes to share with Lady Weatherby, but I think they then gave it to Sheriff Astrid.”
“Someone threatened me?”
“Not to break the curse,” Millie said. “Which is dumb because it’s a group effort.”
“But Emma’s the lynchpin,” Laurel said. “Without her, the group’s effort is futile.”
“So maybe the memory loss is related to the curse,” I said.
“It’s certainly a strong possibility,” Laurel said. “But I’ve learned from you that the obvious answer isn’t always the right one. You have to investigate every angle.”
“You learned that from me?” I liked Laurel. She made me feel smart.
“I’ve learned a lot from you,” Laurel said. “You’re like the big sister I always wanted.”
“You have big sisters,” Millie snapped.
“I said wanted,” Laurel stressed.
“Thank you, Laurel,” I said. “That’s really sweet. I always wanted a sister.” Or a brother. Anyone, really, so that I didn’t feel so alone.
Millie emptied the contents of the basket. “I’m concerned about the doll. What if someone used it to erase Emma’s memories?”
Laurel inclined her head, thinking. “No, I don’t think that’s possible. The potion at the bachelorette party is the most likely scenario.”
“Then why take the doll?” Sophie queried.
“And, more importantly, how did someone get into the secret lair?” Begonia asked.
I scanned the room. “We’re the only ones with access?”
“Yes, that’s what makes it a secret,” Begonia confirmed. “It’s our escape from the rest of the coven. No one else even knows its location.”
“Someone clearly does” Millie said angrily. “We should make sure nothing else is missing.”
Laurel began to check the books on the shelves. “All the important items for breaking the curse were handed over to the coven. I don’t know what anyone would want in here.”
“Other than another way to hurt Emma,” Millie said pointedly.
I stared at the arms and limbs of the voodoo dolls on the floor. Someone seemed out to get me, that much was clear. The question was—why?
Chapter 8
“Today we welcome back one of the coven’s most esteemed mixologists,” Lady Weatherby said.
Sophie straightened in her chair. “My mother,” she whispered. I knew it was for my benefit since everyone else surely remembered.
“Please join us, Ariel Gale,” Lady Weatherby prompted.
Ariel entered the classroom, followed by a floating parade of colorful tubes and bottles. They danced behind her until she reached the front of the classroom. She waved her wand and the items landed on the table in front of us. Not a drop was spilled. I burst into spontaneous applause and quickly realized that I was the only one.
I slumped down in my chair. “That isn’t a big deal?”
Sophie snickered. “Not really.”
“I, for one, appreciate the enthusiastic response,” Ariel said. “We do have a tendency to take our magic for granted.”
“You can do much cooler magic than that,” Millie whispered to me. “I’ve seen you.”
Cooler than dancing bottles? I highly doubted it.
“Today I’d like to experiment with healing potions,” Ariel said. “They’re practical potions rather than defensive ones, but if you can’t reach a druid quickly enough, a healing potion may be your best bet.” She produced a vial from her cloak pocket. “I happen to carry one around at all times in case of emergency.”
“Like a First Aid kit,” I said.
“We do not interrupt, Miss Hart,” Lady Weatherby said. “Please remember to raise your hand with any comments or questions.”
Millie’s hand shot into the air. “Why can’t we develop a healing potion as powerful as the sacred unicorn’s horn now that we have one?”
Ariel beamed. “An excellent question, Millie. The good news is that we may be able to, in time. We need access to the horn to study its magical properties.”
“But that cannot happen until after we’ve used the horn as part of the spell to break the curse,” Lady Weatherby interjected. “The curse remains the priority.”
“Of course, Lady Weatherby,” Ariel said. “The gods know I’m all in favor of breaking the curse. Now, witches, I’d like you each to start with the green bottle in front of you. You’ll be mixing two parts limewhack with one part zazzlefoam.”
I opened the bottle and heard the fizz of the limewhack. It sounded similar to opening a bottle of soda. I raised my hand.
“Yes, Emma?” Ariel said.
“What does this heal?” I asked.
“We’re starting simple,” Ariel replied. “This potion can either be applied as a topical ointment or ingested to heal cuts, scrapes, and burns.”
“It tastes bitter, though,” Sophie added. “So I’d go for the topical ointment whenever possible.”
Ariel laughed. “Sophie endured many a spoonful of this mixture after a succession of falls off the broom.”
Laurel raised her hand. “Is this the one you carry around in a vial?”
“No,” Ariel said. “We’ll get to that one later.”
“How will we test these?” I asked, then suddenly remembered to raise my hand. I waved my hand in the air.
“Once you’ve completed the mixture, we’ll perform a little test,” the mixologist replied.
We hunched over the table, preparing our healing potions. If only it could heal my injured mind. I knew it wasn’t that kind of potion, though.
Lady Weatherby tapped her wand on the desk to signal that time was up.
“Sophie,” Lady Weatherby said. “We shall try your potion first. Why don’t you test yours on Miss Hart?”
My body became rigid. “We test on each other?” I didn’t even approve of cosmetics testing on animals. How could I be okay with this?
“It’s fine,” Sophie whispered. “Usually.”
“Very well, then,” Ariel said. She aimed her wand at me and chanted.
“What?” A splotch of red appeared in my arm. The pain was no worse than a pinch.
“Now then, Sophie,” her mother said. “Dab a bit of the mixture on Emma’s burn.”
Sophie gave me a nervous smile before dipping her finger in the oi
ntment and gently applying it to my skin. For a brief moment, the redness faded and the pain dissipated. Then, suddenly, the spot began to glow a fire engine red.
“Spell’s bells,” Sophie said. “What’s happening?”
The burn worsened, spreading up my arm. I cried out in pain.
“Mom,” Sophie said, her voice unsteady.
My chest began to glow red and my skin bubbled. Tears streaked my cheeks.
“Lady Weatherby!” Begonia cried.
“I can do it,” Ariel said quickly. She aimed her wand at me again. “With the power of the healing fern/magic shall erase this burn.” White light shot from the tip of her wand and sparked against the damaged parts of my skin.
My arm sizzled and steam rose from my skin. There was another flash of pain, and then it was gone. The burn, the pain—all of it. I dropped to the floor, shaking.
“Emma, are you okay?” Begonia was beside me in a flash, her arms squeezing me.
“I think so,” I said quietly.
Sophie muffled a sob. “Emma, I’m so sorry.” She glanced at her mother, her eyes pleading. “What did I do wrong?”
Ariel appeared baffled. “I honestly don’t know, Sophie. In all my years of teaching this spell, I’ve never seen that happen before.”
Lady Weatherby pursed her thin lips. “I don’t wish to undermine your progress, Sophie, because you’ve come a long way. However, you do seem to be the one partial to spells…” She searched for the right word. “Backfiring.”
Sophie sniffed. “I know. You’re right. It’s completely my fault, but I don’t know how to fix it if I can’t figure out what I did wrong.”
“We were all watching,” Laurel said. “I didn’t notice anything out of place. Her wrist is usually part of the problem, but she seemed fine.”
“It could have been the mixture rather than the wand portion of the spell,” Ariel suggested. “They’re equally important.” She wiggled her fingers. “Let me have your vial, Sophie.”
Sophie handed her the healing potion. Her mother popped off the lid and sniffed inside. Her nose wrinkled.
“The smell is normal,” she said. “Maybe a pinch too much limewhack.”
“I measured so carefully,” Sophie said, visibly distraught.
“No worries, my darling,” her mother said. “I don’t think the burn was a result of your potion. See?” Her mother tipped back the liquid and poured a few drops into her mouth.
“Mother!” Sophie yelped.
Nothing happened. Her mother stood there, healthy as can be.
“It must be me,” I said. “Maybe it’s an allergic reaction.” I mean, how would I know whether I was allergic to limewhack if I’d never been exposed to it in the human world?
“Allergic reactions to magical potions are rare,” Ariel said. She circled me, examining my exposed skin. “And my spell cleared it up straight away.”
“So what does that suggest?” I asked.
Her mother fixed her gaze on me. “It means that the burn was likely the result of additional magic.”
Begonia’s blue eyes rounded. “Someone is still targeting Emma? Even though she hasn’t recovered her memories?”
“Someone seems determined to make certain that Miss Hart is sidelined,” Lady Weatherby said. “They’re adding another layer of complication, or tried to.”
“Thank goodness you’re a quick thinker, Mom,” Sophie said.
“Thank you, Mrs. Gale,” I said.
I thought of the missing voodoo doll and wondered whether it could have been used for this purpose. I’d have to wait until after class to ask my friends, since they didn’t want other coven members to know about the dolls.
“I’m concerned that someone is breaching coven wards,” Ariel said to Lady Weatherby. “Sophie told me about the threatening note that turned up during Professor Holmes’s lecture. That shouldn’t be happening.”
“No, indeed,” Lady Weatherby agreed. “The responsible party must sense that the breaking of the curse is imminent. They’ve grown desperate.”
“If they get desperate enough,” Millie said, “they’re likely to make a mistake. Then we can identify them.”
“What if the one attacking Emma is different from the party responsible for her memory loss?” Laurel suggested. “If they don’t know she’s lost her memories, they’ll keep attacking her.”
“Then we might be looking for two possible suspects,” Begonia said with a heavy sigh.
Millie began to sulk. “You sure know how to complicate matters, Emma.”
“Let’s carry on with the lesson,” Lady Weatherby suggested. “The sooner we finish, the sooner Miss Hart can get back to the business of recovering her memories, which would be a blessing for us all.”
A blessing that would break a curse.
As I left the academy, an attractive guy with dark hair and a pleasant expression approached me with caution.
"Hi, Emma. Do you remember me?" he asked.
He obviously knew about the potion. “I’m sorry, but I don't," I said. "I'm getting the distinct impression that you’re a werewolf. How do I know that?" Maybe my sorcery skills were kicking in. About time.
He relaxed. "Yes, that’s right. My name’s Alex. You helped me once, and now I'm hoping to return the favor."
"I helped you? Did I defend you in a case?"
"Even better. You saved my life. My fiancée, Jolene, had been killed. Others tried to say it was suicide, but you figured out that it was her cousin, Kayla.” His body tensed. "If it weren't for your intervention, she would've killed me, too."
"I'm sorry that happened to you, Alex," I said. "How are you helping me now? Do you know how to reverse the memory loss spell?"
He pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket. "The sheriff had asked me to see if I could trace the scent on this note.”
“I didn’t realize you work with the sheriff.”
“I don’t, not normally. We don't get asked to do tracking very often because it's considered demeaning."
"Why would such a valuable skill be considered demeaning?" I queried.
"Because it equates us with dogs," Alex said. "But as soon as Sheriff Astrid mentioned your name, I jumped at the chance to do it."
I read the warning on the parchment. "This is the note that threatened me to stop trying to break the curse?"
Alex nodded. "I picked up a few smells and tried to track each one individually." He hesitated. "I didn't find anything definitive, but you're not gonna like what I did find."
That didn't bode well. "Why?"
He shoved his hands into his pockets. "One of the places I traced it to was coven headquarters."
I released the breath I was holding. "Well, that makes sense. The note went to the coven for examination before the sheriff gave it to you.”
Alex seemed relieved. “That’s good news. The other place I traced it to was the building you just came from. Did you take it there, too?"
"According to my friends, that's where I received the note, so it makes sense."
Alex wiped his brow. "You don't know how happy I am to hear that. I thought I was going to be delivering horrible news."
"Were those the only two places you connected to the note?"
Alex scratched the scruff of his neck. "I did track one more scent halfway across town, but it faded, as though someone realized the possibility and began cloaking the trail at that point."
"How far in town did you get?" I asked.
“Past the Mayor’s Mansion,” he replied. “That’s the eastern end of town in case you’ve forgotten.”
“What makes you think someone cloaked the trail?”
“I’ve got one of the best noses in the pack. If I lost the trail, so would anybody else.”
“Even Lorenzo Mancini?” I asked.
Alex’s dark eyes twinkled. “You remember how fond you two are of each other, huh? That’s impressive.”
“I had the pleasure of meeting him all over again at the council meetin
g. I assume you spend a lot of time with him. Is there anything I should know?” I asked.
Alex folded his arms. “Are you asking me if I think the leader of the werewolf pack is involved in a plan to harm you?”
I frowned. “Your muscles look bigger and more threatening when you cross your arms like that.”
His mouth twitched. “I suppose they do.” He dropped his threatening arms to his side. “I’m loyal to Lorenzo, Emma, but if I honestly felt that he was part of plan to hurt you, I swear to you that I wouldn’t let it stand.”
My gut told me to believe him, so I did. Without memories, my gut was all I had.
He untucked his shirt and retrieved something stashed in his waistband. “I also found this.”
My breath caught in my throat. It was like the voodoo dolls I’d seen in the secret lair, except this one looked like me.
“I think your doll got a bad case of sunburn,” Alex said, handing over the small replica.
The doll was covered in red paint and my heart plummeted when I realized the significance. “Someone tried to burn me during a mixology lesson. They must’ve used this voodoo doll.”
“I found it stuffed in a hedge,” Alex said. “I’m not sure whether it was put there to be used again or trashed there.”
I examined the doll with its tangled mess of dark hair. Yep, it was me all right. “Why didn't you bring this information to Astrid?" I asked. “She's the one who assigned you the task."
Alex seemed to struggle with his reply. "It's nothing against Sheriff Astrid. I trust her, but I'm worried for you. I hear a lot of chatter in the pack, okay? Not about her specifically, just about the future. I don't know what to believe or who to trust. So I thought it was best to give you the information directly."
“I appreciate that,” I said. “To be honest, I don’t know, either. I’m trying to rely on my instincts, since my memories are obviously not an option.”
He paused. “Make no mistake. I trust you, Emma. And I want you to get your memories back. You deserve a great wedding and happiness and all the good things that life has to offer."
His kind words warmed me from the inside out. I was relieved that my gut told me to trust him, since I really wanted to.
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