Gray Magic

by Jennifer Snyder

  “I slept okay, I guess,” I said. She fixed her eyes on me. Did my aura show I had a headache? I headed to the stove where a kettle of hot water set waiting. “How was your midnight yoga session?” I asked to deflect attention off me as I pulled a mug from the cabinet near the sink.

  “It wasn’t midnight yoga.”

  “Wait. Midnight yoga?” Raven asked. “How did I miss that?”

  “You didn’t come home until two,” Aunt Rowena said.

  “You didn’t come home until two? How are you even awake right now?” I asked Raven as I scooped two heaping spoonfuls of peppermint-basil tea into a sachet before pouring hot water over it.

  “I slept for a while,” Raven insisted. “I’ve learned I don’t need seven to eight hours of sleep anymore. I function fine on about four.”

  “Oh, child, that’s not going to last long,” Ellen said as she strolled into the kitchen. Humor danced in her eyes when she glanced at Raven. “I can promise you that. I used to be the same way when I was younger. Now, I can’t function on anything less than eight.”

  I liked this woman. She didn’t feel like a typical guest at the inn, but more like a crazy grandmother here for a visit. She fit in. Even without any witchy powers.

  “Where did you tell me the smoothie machine was kept last night?” Ellen asked Aunt Rowena.

  “I set it out for you.” Aunt Rowena pointed to an area behind me. “It’s right over there.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Ellen crossed the kitchen. I stepped out of her way. “My green smoothie is another thing I can’t function without. I still can’t believe I forgot my machine at home. Usually, that’s the first thing I put in my suitcase when I go on a trip.”

  “Yuck,” Raven said as she cut the top off a strawberry and tossed it in the bowl with the others. “I’ve tried green smoothies before and they always taste like grass.”

  “Not mine,” Ellen insisted. “I’ll let you try some. The trick is to put in more green apple than anything else. Gives it a sweeter taste.”

  My lips puckered just thinking about green apples, they had always tasted too sour to me.

  “Is breakfast almost done?” Rose asked as she entered the kitchen, dragging her feet. “I’m hungry.”

  “Not yet.” Aunt Rowena plopped another biscuit on the baking sheet beside her. “Almost, though.”

  “Are you making cinnamon twists?” Rose asked, wiggling her brows.

  Aunt Rowena placed a hand on her hip. “I made those last weekend.”

  “Yeah, but they’re the best,” Rose insisted. “You should make them every Sunday so all the guests who stay with us get to taste them.”

  I chuckled. She could be so cute sometimes.

  “Shoot. I forgot my glasses.” Ellen made her way around me. “Hard to measure things out when you can’t see worth a lick. I’ll be right back.” She made her way to the stairs.

  Rose shifted her attention to me. “Cinnamon twists and another episode of the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina on Netflix,” she said with mock seriousness. “Best Sunday ever.”

  My grin widened.

  “I don’t know how the two of you watch that show.” Raven wrinkled her nose. “It’s gory and stupid. Nothing at all like the show from the nineties with that funny cat.”

  The four of us had watched the first episode together a few weekends ago. It hadn’t been Raven or Aunt Rowena’s cup of tea, but it had been mine and Rose’s.

  “I already told you, this one is based off the comics. Anyway…” Rose shifted her attention back to her mom. “About those cinnamon twists…”

  “Yes?” Aunt Rowena smiled. “What about them?”

  “Will you please make some? Please!” Rose begged.

  Aunt Rowena tried to fight a smile, but couldn’t. “I guess I can make some. The guests enjoyed them last weekend. In fact, Mr. Senova liked them so much he had me wrap the extras so he could take them to his room.”

  “Has he told you what kind of book he’s writing?” Raven asked. She rinsed a handful of berries at the sink. “What if he’s like Stephen King and writes horror books? Wouldn’t it be cool if he used Caraway Inn as the setting for it?”

  “Says the girl who doesn’t like the new Sabrina show because it’s too gory for her.” I laughed.

  “That’s totally different,” Raven insisted with a scowl. “And, I’m not saying I’d read it, or even watch it if it became a TV show or a movie, all I’m saying is it would be cool if he added in our house.”

  “Ridley and I asked him what he’s writing the other day. He said it’s a young adult fantasy series.” Rose shifted on her stool.

  “Which means he could be writing about witches.” Raven lifted a brow and flashed a pointed look at Rose. “Wouldn’t that be funny? That’s irony or something for you.”

  “Or something.” Aunt Rowena frowned. From the look building on her face, I knew her defensive side was about to pop up. She didn’t like when people suspected what we were. It unsettled her. When I first came to Mirror Lake, I wasn’t sure why it was such a big deal to her until she explained it. She told me people often feared what they didn’t understand, and magic, along with witches, fell into that category. She said nothing good could come from people fearing you. “None of you will ask Mr. Senova any more questions about his book. If it does happen that he’s writing about witches, I don’t want any of you influencing his story.” Her gaze drifted to each of us, but lingered on Raven the longest.

  “Why are you staring at me? I’m not going to do anything like that,” she insisted.

  Aunt Rowena intensified her gaze.

  “I’m not. I promise,” Raven said.

  “I hope so.” Aunt Rowena placed the biscuits in the oven. As she wiped her hands on a dish towel, she glanced at Rose. “Find my recipe for the cinnamon twists. I think it’s time you learn how to make them since you seem to love them so much.”

  “Are you sure?” Rose slipped off the stool beside me.

  “Positive. Cooking is a learned skill. It doesn’t come naturally.”

  “It’s a learned skill unless your name is Ridley Caraway.” Raven snickered. “Then, not even the best teacher can help.”

  “Ha. Ha. Very funny.” I rolled my eyes.

  Raven grinned wider. “I thought so.”

  “Found the recipe,” Rose said. She stepped to the island carrying a well-worn cookbook. “Do you want me to get the ingredients?”

  Aunt Rowena smoothed a few stray strands of hair away from Rose’s eyes and tucked them behind her ear. “That’s always the first step.”

  A thrumming sensation built behind my eyes. My headache was back. I swallowed a gulp of tea and then made my way out of the kitchen.

  “Ridley,” Rose called after me. “I’ll bring the cinnamon twists to your room when they’re done, then we can watch an episode and eat them together.”

  “Okay, sure.”

  I met Ellen on my way to the stairs.

  “Care to try my smoothie before you head up?” she asked.

  “Oh, no thank you. I’ve got studying to do.” Not a total lie. I was sure reading more in the book on gray magic would count as studying to some.

  “You’re missing out,” Ellen said in a sing-song voice as she made her way into the kitchen.

  Somehow, I doubted it, but I didn’t say so. Instead, I continued up the stairs.

  Chapter 9

  Rose and I spent the afternoon, and well into the evening in my room, eating the cinnamon twists she’d made while watching TV on my laptop. It was dark outside by the time she left my room to FaceTime with one of her friends. While I enjoyed spending time with her—she was like the little sister I’d never had—I was also glad to see our binge fest end, because I was more than ready to browse through my book on gray magic again and stop pretending I didn’t have a headache from hell.

  After locking my bedroom door behind her, I grabbed the book from the bottom drawer of my nightstand. My pulse quickened when my fingertips brushed
its cover. I was eager to try the spell I’d found earlier. I flipped to its page and skimmed it, making a mental note of what I needed—a single candle and a piece of string. I knew I had both lying around. My gaze drifted around my room. There was a red candle somewhere. Rose had given it to me for Christmas. When I spotted it on my dresser, I flung myself off my bed and rushed to retrieve it along with a book of matches. The candle was in a glass jar, but I figured it would help prevent me from burning down the house. When I pried the lid off, the sweet scent of apple floated to my nose. It was another of my favorites.

  Crap. Would it matter that it was scented? The book hadn’t specified. All it mentioned was that different colors stood for different things. What did red stand for?

  I moved to the edge of my bed and pulled the book closer, searching for the meaning behind the color red. Anger. Passion. Sex. Those things came to mind when I thought of red. However, they weren’t the only meanings associated with the color according to the book. Strength and courage were too. Both of which I could use a little more of in my life, especially lately.

  A string was the last thing I needed.

  The book hadn’t said how long or what type, so I grabbed the long strand Rose had been picking at for days on my quilt and ripped it off.

  Next, the book prompted me to decide on my word, what I wanted to bring more of into my life, and focus on it. Intention was everything when it came to spells. This was something Aunt Rowena always said.

  I chewed my bottom lip as I tried to think of a single word to describe what I wanted most. Strength was the first word to come to mind.

  With added strength, I could fend off these damn headaches easier, hold out against this persistent as hell spirit trying to get to me, and probably be brave enough to perform a spell that would set a veil in place I could control.

  Strength equaled control and freedom in my eyes, and I was down for more of both when it came to my gift.

  I picked up the book and moved to my bedroom floor, taking the candle and piece of string with me. The spell said to hold each item individually and allow it to absorb my intention before proceeding. I cupped the candle in my hands first and repeated the word strength in my mind three times before moving on to do the same with the string. Afterward, I was supposed to light the candle, all the while continuing to infuse my intentions into the flame. Next, the book said to pick up the string and make small knots in it while saying the incantation that went along with the spell.

  “Here goes nothing,” I muttered to myself as I picked up the string. My eyes scanned over the words I was supposed to say once more before I began, burning them to memory. Twisting the string into its first knot, I recited them, “As this knot is bound, the strength I seek is now found.”

  I repeated the words until they sounded strange to my ears and my string looked like a tiny ball. My gaze dipped back to the pages of the book, looking for what I was supposed to do next—place the string into the flame and watch it burn. Once it was finished, the book said I should have more of what I asked for soon.

  Soon? That was a vague timeline. It could mean seconds, hours, days, or even months.

  Still, I dropped the bundle of string into the flame while I repeated the incantation in my head. It caught fire and incinerated in an instant. Sparks of orange and red danced through the air above the candle flame as it crackled. The flame burned brighter and goose bumps prickled across my skin. I could feel something inside me shifting, but I had no way of proving it.

  A light tapping at my bedroom window pulled me from my thoughts. The shadow of someone’s profile caught my eye.

  What the hell?

  I crept across the room to see who it was. My reflection in the glass was the only thing I saw until I was right up on it and then Benji’s face came into view. There was a smirk on his face. Did he think he had scared me? He hadn’t. Curiosity had won the war inside me instead.

  Was it because of the spell? Would it have worked its magic on me so soon?

  I opened the window and stared at Benji. “What are you doing?” I demanded. My fingertips gripped the plastic loops on the inside of the screen, and I removed it with ease so he could slip in my room. “Why didn’t you go to the front door like usual?”

  “This seemed more fun.” He shrugged. His face was flushed with color, and his eyes glittered with liveliness. It was clear he’d recently fed, but it also seemed as though the old playful Benji was making a comeback. Even if only for a moment. “I can’t remember the last time I climbed a tree, but I have to say, it was a hell of a lot easier this time around.” He grinned.

  “I can imagine,” I muttered. His vampire abilities probably made a lot of things easier.

  “So, what are you up to?” He popped the screen back in place and closed the window, sealing out the icy winter air. “I tried callin’ you earlier, but it kept goin’ to your voicemail.”

  “Did it?” I glanced around, searching for my phone. Since I couldn’t remember where it was, I assumed it had gone to voicemail because it was dead.

  When I spotted it on top of my dresser, I crossed the room to it. Just like I’d thought, the battery was dead.

  “I must have forgotten to charge it last night,” I said as I plugged it in.

  “It’s all right, I don’t mind swingin’ by to see you.” The lit of heat in his words had me shifting to look at him. His eyes trailed the length of me in an unabashed way, soaking in my fuzzy owl pajama pants and the black tank top I wore. “Nice pajama bottoms, by the way.”

  I adjusted my glasses, my cheeks heating. “Thanks.”

  “What’s that?” He nodded to the candle burning on my bedroom floor.

  “A spell.”

  He arched a brow. “What kind? Regular or gray?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. Would it matter? It shouldn’t. After all, I’d promised I wouldn’t perform any spells from the book last night, not today.

  “Gray,” I said as I made my way to my bed.

  I wrapped my quilt around my shoulders to fend off the chill he’d let seep into the room and waited for him to tell me it was too early to practice magic from the book.

  “Find anythin’ good?” he asked as he eyed the open book.

  “It was just a simple spell. I wanted to see if I could work that type of magic.”

  His eyes lifted to mine. “Were you able to?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “When will you know?”

  I licked my lips. “I’m not sure.”

  “Okay, well… Have you found the spell you’ve been lookin’ for? One to put up a veil?”

  “No. I’ve been taking my time reading through the book. I don’t want to jump ahead.” Mainly because I knew if I did, I’d more than likely want to perform the spell right away which wouldn’t be wise.

  Benji stepped to the book and picked it up. He walked to my bed and sat. His added weight shifted the mattress beneath me, forcing me closer to him. The scent of his cologne sparked desire through my lower belly. His honey-brown eyes shifted to me and I noticed amusement glitter through them.

  “If you want to kiss me, do it,” he murmured in a deep, rich, southern timbre that heightened everything I was feeling times ten. “I’ve fed well tonight.”

  I blinked. Damn his vampire abilities. He could probably smell my arousal or some crap like that on top of being able to hear the increase in my heart rate.

  “Well, I did want to kiss you, but now that you’ve put me on the spot…”

  The corner of his lips hooked into a half-grin seconds before he leaned forward, erasing the distance between our lips faster than should be possible. If I’d tried to move in on him that fast, I knew I’d make us bump foreheads so hard I’d be rocking a knot the size of my fist for weeks.

  “You sure about that?” he whispered.

  The breath stilled in my chest. I started to say yes, but no words would come. The only thing I could focus on was how close he was and how badly I wanted him to
kiss me.

  As though he’d read my mind, he brushed his lips against mine. A tremble slipped through me in reaction. We were getting good at this whole kissing thing again—thank goodness!

  “So, what kind of spell did you do?” he asked once he broke our kiss and pulled away. His gaze drifted back to the book he held.

  I blinked, still dazed by the scorching moment we’d just shared. The desire to ignore his question and kiss him again built through me, but I knew doing so wouldn’t be smart. Pushing him past his comfort zone would only bring our tiny make out sessions to a grinding halt and that wasn’t something I wanted.

  “Um.” I licked my lips. “It was a candle magic spell. For strength.”

  It sounded stupid when I said it out loud. At the time though, it had seemed to make sense.

  “You don’t need more strength, Rid,” he insisted. His eyes lifted from the book to lock with mine. “You’re already the bravest person I know.”

  I flashed him a smile. “Thanks.”

  He adjusted the book in his hand so I could read it too and flipped through its pages. None of the spells caught our attention except for one—To Channel Magic From Witches Passed.

  “Wow, now that one seems intense.” Benji leaned closer to view the page better.

  His dark lashes nearly brushed against the soft skin of his cheeks as he read. When had they become so long? And, when had his face taken on such an alabaster tone? He’d always been tan from working on his family farm. Now, it seemed as though he was losing all his color.

  God, he was still handsome though.

  “Your heart rate spiked.” His attention snapped to me. “Is this a spell you want to try?”

  “What? No.” My reply came too quick. “I mean, it fascinates me to think of, but it’s not something I want to do. No.”

  “Good, ‘cause I was gonna say it sounds dangerous.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. If used for the right reasons, it might not be.”

  “I can’t imagine what those reasons might be, though.”

  I shrugged and flipped to a new page. And there it was. The spell I’d been searching for. I could feel it in my bones.