Page 17 of A Witch in Notting Hill

Willow

I t was nearly eleven thirty when I heard a knock on my door.

I’d gotten so used to staying in hotels alone over the many years of traveling for work that I’d more or less stopped freaking out every time I heard a sound, but a knock on the door was unusual. A knock on the door close to midnight in a hotel where no one even knew I was staying was even weirder.

I glanced over at Vera to confirm she’d heard it, too, and her little head was peeking up from the foot of the bed, her wide eyes darting back and forth from me to the door. So it wasn’t just me.

“What the hell was that?” I whispered to her, and she blinked back like my guess was as good as hers.

By the time I got back to the hotel and realized I was no longer in the right headspace to conduct the spell to get Vera to be able to speak, we’d decided we’d have to wait until morning.

Or at least I’d decided, but she’d seemed to agree.

Ivy had given me the confidence I needed, but I was so tired from the day, I had a feeling that if I did manage to get Vera to speak, it would be in another language or she’d only be able to communicate in early nineties song lyrics or something equally tragic.

When I tried to explain this to her, she seemed to understand. Or at least I hoped she did. Everything I was doing was for her own good, and until I got the spell to work, I just had to hope she knew that.

So she still couldn’t say anything, but her eyes told me all I needed to know: the knock was real.

I slid off the bed and crept toward the door, straining on my tiptoes to see through the peephole. All I could see was the chest of a man in a hotel uniform. I was about to ask who it was when I heard whispering on the other side.

“This is insane.”

“Just trust me.”

“We’re going to scare her to death. Why didn’t anyone think of that sooner?”

“It’s going to be fine as soon as she realizes it’s us.”

“Unless she calls the police first and we’re all handcuffed before she can even open the door.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Do you want a chance to apologize or not? Focus on what’s really important here.”

I swung the door open in the middle of their argument, all four of us equally shocked to see each other. Me because they were dressed like hotel staff, and them because I opened the door.

“Willow, hi,” Lola said, smiling wider than I’d even known was possible. People in my industry would have killed for teeth that straight.

“Hi.” I resisted the urge to look down at my pajamas, suddenly painfully aware I was standing in the doorway in nothing but boxer shorts and an old UCLA T-shirt.

Bare feet, hair tied into a low braid, bleary eyes.

Definitely not my best look. And definitely not a way I’d ever allow anyone else to see me, either.

But I couldn’t deny my curiosity.

“How did you guys find me?”

“Please don’t be mad,” Lola said. “But I saw the key card in your wallet, and then everything after that was like a bad spy movie. Uniforms hanging in the service entrance, key fob in the pocket, easy access to the computer, a few clicks, and—”

“Does anyone else know I’m here?”

“No.” Oliver stepped forward, shaking his head. “And it’s going to stay that way. I just owe you an apology, and we didn’t know how else to get in touch with you. It’s not like we can just find your email or, I don’t know, DM you on Instagram.”

“No.” I laughed a little. “I suppose it isn’t.”

“Are you mad?”

“Not mad,” I said. “Confused, maybe. And a little impressed? And a little concerned, you know, with security and all that.” If it was this easy for them, would it be that easy for someone else?

“That’s part of why we’re here,” she said, gesturing to Oliver to continue. I furrowed my eyebrows, hoping he was going to make sense of the late-night visit. He cleared his throat and glared down at Lola, and she nodded like she’d just remembered the plan.

“We’re going to, er, be down the hall.” She grabbed Minho by the arm and dragged him in the direction of the elevators, disappearing around a corner.

“Hi,” Oliver said, and exhaled, clearly gearing up for something. “I’m sorry it’s late. And I’m sorry we barged in like this.”

“This is the British version of ‘barging,’ I assume.”

A smile, small and tentative.

“And mostly I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier.”

When we’d parted ways and I got the Tube, I’d convinced myself I didn’t need an apology. That I’d never see him again, if I was lucky, and it didn’t matter what he thought, anyway. I knew what was real, and I didn’t need to convince anyone otherwise.

Except I did.

Item number six. Right there at the bottom of the page. Convince a skeptic.

Though if I could do anything to help it, he wouldn’t be the one I tried to convince.

“Go on,” I said, eager to hear what else he had to say, if only to unclench my jaw.

He said some shitty things earlier, and I wasn’t about to let him get away with a simple I’m sorry.

Not that it seemed like he planned to, what with all the deep breaths and the squared shoulders and the practiced cadence of his speech.

“I was a wanker. I shouldn’t have said I thought you were smarter than someone who believed in magic, and I shouldn’t have been so pushy about my beliefs. It isn’t nonsense. And I’m sorry I said it was.”

Well done. “Thank you.” I sighed. I didn’t have it in me to hold a grudge. Especially against a man I hardly knew. I had enough to keep me busy.

“And I do hope you can forgive me, because I—we—would like to help.” This last part came out a bit like he was announcing he wanted a root canal, but the words held meaning all the same.

“The three of you?” I asked. “Want to help me...”

“With the quest,” he said, smiling a little when I laughed at the word. “Lo’s been calling it that and it just kind of stuck.”

“But you don’t even believe in any of this. Why would you want to help me?” It made sense for Lola and Minho to want to help, but Oliver?

“Well, those two are interested in the list itself,” he explained. “The tasks, the items, the whole lot.”

“And you?” I asked, holding my breath.

“I’m interested in you,” he said. The words floated between us like snowflakes: beautiful and sparkling and gone before I knew it.

“Your safety, I mean. I’d like to come along to make sure you aren’t swarmed in the Tube station or anything like that.

” The callback to our moment in the cutout made my face warm.

As did his four simple words: I’m interested in you.

In fact, my face was really warm. Warmer than was appropriate for a comment that was quickly modified to be something entirely platonic.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You’ve gone quite... rosy.”

I tried to laugh, to seem like I had control of the situation, but as he brought the back of his hand to my forehead and I pulled away, my hair started to float up from my shoulders, and I knew it was hopeless.

“Fine,” I said, closing the door a little. He didn’t budge. “Just a bit warm in here. You know how it is, no AC here in England.” I tried to shrug, but it was manic. More of a twitch, really. An unfortunate muscle spasm.

“Are you sure? Your hair, it’s—”

Smoking. My split ends were smoking .

“Heat damage,” I yelped. “Anyway, thank you for the apology and for the offer to help. Let’s talk tomorrow? I’ll come by the shop? It’s late, so I should just, you know, good night, Oliver.”

I closed the door before he could respond and dashed into the bathroom, dunking my head in the sink and turning the faucet on full blast.

Fire? My hair was catching on fire ? Because a man touched the back of his hand to my forehead to make sure I was all right?

I wanted to accept their help, but I needed my magic to work now more than ever. I couldn’t afford for it to go haywire because Oliver touched my forehead with the back of his hand, for god’s sake.

If I was going to accept their help, I needed a plan.

And no one was better at a plan than Vera. Which was why, first thing in the morning, I was getting her to talk.

Sip of wine on the edge,

Pruning like you would a hedge.

All that’s left is an

Upright walk.

Big deep breath

And now you talk.

T he spell was simple enough in nature: formulaic, like the ones we practiced as children. Only I really had to muster the conviction not to mess this up. The words were basic but the magic was advanced, and I couldn’t afford any more mistakes.

“All right, Vera,” I muttered, studying the spell once again.

Wine on the edge because alcohol and nerves made everyone talk too much; pruning and upright walking because the more animals acted like people, the more likely they were to speak.

It made sense. I believed in it. And I believed in myself.

Or at least I believed Ivy believed in me, which was even better. “Here we go.”

I used nail scissors from the complimentary vanity kit in the bathroom to trim the hair around her eyes and on her tail, brushing her gently and smoothing every stray whisker into place.

She was as beautiful as a cat as she was as a person, even before I started the grooming, but I hoped this would do the trick.

Then, with my feet hanging off the edge of the bed (it was the best I could do in the hotel room), I poured us both a healthy swig of minibar wine, held Vera by her front paws with her back feet planted next to mine, and recited the spell.

I said the words loud and clear and with a slight rhythm, the way Granny Annie had taught me, believing every one of them. I envisioned Vera speaking, put all my energy into doing something for her, all my energy into that moment, the moment she opened her mouth and—

“Thank god,” she said.

My eyes sprang open, and I collapsed onto my knees on the floor. “What? Was that you? What did you say?”

“I said thank god . I was getting so sick of listening to you ramble to yourself and not being able to say anything back to you. And if you didn’t get your shit together and find some conviction to get this done, I was prepared to start shredding the curtains.

” She stretched out her paws and admired her nails. “Quite the manicure, don’t you think?”

“You can talk,” I cried, pulling her into my chest and resisting the urge to sob. “Oh my god. You can talk.”

“But I can’t hug, and you’re crushing me,” she said.

“Sorry.” I laughed, holding her out in front of me. “I’m so relieved.”

“Put me down, you psycho,” she said. “Well done, Willow. I knew you had it in you. Thank you for this.”

“Please don’t thank me ever again,” I said with a shudder. “I haven’t exactly done anything good. Just made the horrible situation I put us in slightly less horrible.”

“At this point, we’ve got to take what we can get. Especially since it’s going to be another six months before I’m a person again.”

“You’ve been able to understand me this whole time?” She nodded. “Oh god, Vera. I’m so sorry. I had no idea I’d have to wait for another solstice to do the spell again. I wish there was another way out of this. I’m going to keep looking. I can’t leave you like this until December.”

“Willow, I’m just glad you’ve found any way out of this,” she said. “What’s important is you do what you need to do between now and then so you can reverse the spell when the time comes. We have plenty of time to prepare, and we need to make sure we use it to our advantage. Do things right.”

“But, Vera—”

“I’ll be okay until then,” she said. “I’m getting used to being off the grid, spending all my time in a luxury hotel in a beautiful city with nothing to do. That’s what all celebrity managers dream of, isn’t it?”

“You’re being such a good sport about this,” I said.

“I’m always a good sport.”

“You’ve never been a good sport.”

It felt good to laugh together.

“I know you didn’t do this on purpose, Willow. I just need you to be ready to get me out of this when the time comes, okay?”

“I will be,” I said. “I promise.”

That promise was either going to hold me accountable or eat me alive, and there was only one way to find out which.

“But in order for me to do that, we need a plan.”

“Beyond the obvious?”

“Beyond the obvious,” I confirmed. “I need Oliver to, uh, keep his distance. Or maybe I need to keep my distance. Either way—”

“I saw the whole thing,” she said. “Burning hair and all.” I collapsed onto the mattress, properly mortified. “This is what we’re going to do.”

“Talk to me,” I muttered with my face pressed into the sheets.

“We’re going to make it seem like you and Kit are seeing each other. Nothing serious, still early days. Just enough to make Oliver think you’re involved with someone else, so he doesn’t go doing anything else sexy like... checking your forehead for a fever.”

“What if you just killed me instead?” I asked, face still shoved into two-thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton.

“Have you forgotten I’m a cat?” Vera said.

“Besides, this is going to be a piece of cake. No killing necessary. Right before the summer solstice party I saw a fan edit of the two of you on Instagram. Photoshopped together, you know the deal. Let’s find it again, set it as your phone wallpaper, et voilà . That’s all you need to do.”

I might not have liked it, but it was a plan, and I was desperate. Besides, when had Vera failed me before? There was a reason she was one of the most coveted managers in the industry, and it wasn’t lost on me how lucky I was. I needed to trust her.

Even if I hated the idea of Oliver thinking I was with someone else.

Though for all I knew, he could be with someone else.

What mattered was that I was removing any temptation, which would hopefully reduce the threat of errant magic, and we would be on our way to reversing this spell without causing any other damage in the process.

Easy enough.