Page 11 of A Witch’s Guide to Surviving Halloween

Chapter Six

Lucy and I stand side by side, arms crossed, staring at the open spell book behind the coffee bar counter, the way TV detectives watch a suspect through the one-way glass of an interrogation room.

“You’re sure you did it right?” I question for what feels like the dozenth time.

Lucy huffs, annoyed. “Of course I did. I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve cast a communication charm with a friendship focus, but I followed that spell to the letter.”

The toe of my boot taps against the wooden floorboards as my lips purse and I side-eye her.

Lucy turns to face my skeptical gaze head-on, crossing her arms as if to say try me.

I study every inch of her. From the top of her fiery hair to her heavily studded ears, and all the way down to her platform combat boots.

With a sassy quirk of her lips, she takes my scrutiny, tapping her polished fingernails against her bicep.

After a tense moment of silence between us, I meet her eyes again. “Luce, I swear . . .” I warn her, and she throws her hands in the air.

“Look, I know I’m not exactly employee of the month, but I would never pull something like that.”

I quirk an eyebrow at her, and she softens, conceding a hair. “Fine, I would never pull something like that on a tourist—and especially not this close to Halloween. Magic always acts a little nutty this time of year, and I’m not about to risk that shit becoming permanent.”

I sigh through my nose, turning my attention back to the book lying open on the counter.

Despite all the evidence to the contrary, I believe her.

Lucy might be a bit of a wild card, but I’ve always been able to tell when she’s lying.

The horrified look on her face last night when I brought the gibberish-speaking girl into the shop was completely genuine.

But no matter how I rack my brain, I can’t think of another explanation.

Unless . . .

As if she can read my mind, Lucy worries at her lip before asking, “You don’t think something’s wrong with . . . the book . . . do you?”

I shake my head, but I’m not sure if I’m answering her question or so utterly lost for an explanation that I can’t find the words. The air between us and the book is thick with tension, as if it’s luring us in like bait on a hook we know we shouldn’t bite.

“I can’t figure out how that’s even possible. It’s a book. It can’t change its own spells”—I pause, briefly meeting her concerned gaze—“right?”

Lucy’s lips press into a thin line and she leans a hip against the counter as black and purple nails click against the granite with thought.

“I mean . . . it did come from Grandma.”

“I know it did, but it didn’t just come from her.

” I wave a hand at the yellowed pages for emphasis.

“It’s been passed down for generations. Grandma wasn’t afraid to mess with magic, but I can’t imagine her ruining something like our family book for a few laughs beyond the grave.

” I glance around the shop as if something else could possibly explain last night’s charm gone wrong.

“All the ingredients are good, right?”

Lucy gestures at the line of spices and toppings before letting her hand fall against her hip. “It’s all fresh.”

“And you had full consent?”

“The girls came in and asked for the Witch’s Market special, which we agreed would be our Cast-A-Wish Latte.

They both ordered caramel macchiatos and asked for their friendship to withstand going to different colleges or whatever.

So, I thought an open communication spell with an emphasis on friendship would be what they needed.

They’d have some good talks over the course of the festival and then make an effort to stay in touch going forward.

That’s as close to consent as you can get in this business.

Plus, you and I both know that lack of consent would backfire on me, not them.

And I’m the one speaking perfect English. ”

Everything she’s telling me matches what the girls told me last night, once we got them all calmed down.

After we reversed everything and compensated each of them with a free book and a promise of free lanterns at the Enchanted Lantern Walk tonight, of course.

If they don’t go tell the entire world about what happened, I’ll be amazed; I can only hope no one believes them, and that it fades away before the rumor of actual witchcraft catches fire.

“Maybe it wasn’t the drinks. Maybe the festival did something. Was anything weird at the market?” I can feel Lucy grasping at straws, and I wish I had something better to offer her.

I shake my head and proceed to run through the entire night, right down to the strange flutters of magic.

“And . . . that happened while you were talking to Oliver? About what?”

I look away, trying and failing to hide the heat rising to my cheeks at the memory of my conversation with him last night.

We have love here in Ashwood Haven.

I don’t doubt it.

My stomach flips all over again, his deep voice so clear in my head that it sends shivers over my skin. I pull the sleeves of my long-sleeve shirt down over my hands, the roll hem stretching between my anxious fingertips.

“We were just talking about travel.”

Lucy’s entire face screws up into a skeptical recoil. “Travel? You’ve never traveled more than a few hours from here.”

I shrug, using my thumbnail to pick at an invisible spot on the counter. “I could travel.”

The red-haired barista looks unconvinced. “To where? Across the county line?”

“You know what?” I counter, meeting her challenge head-on to avoid furthering this conversation as much as possible. “My desire to or not to travel is not the focus here. I’m not the one who practically hexed someone last night.”

“You sure about that?” she mutters under her breath.

“Excuse me?”

“It just seems like there’s a common denominator here, and it’s not me.”

“I didn’t make their drinks last night,” I bite at her.

“No, but you were there when the charm went wrong. Just like you were there when the books started throwing themselves off the shelves, and when the ballerinas started flying, and when the skeletons started dancing!” She lists off each event on her fingers, her serious exterior crumbling by the time she gets to the last offense.

“This is ridiculous!” I shout, a laugh bubbling out of my chest and up my throat at that absurd list of events. Lucy breaks with me until we’ve both dissolved into fits of half-exhausted cackles.

“Okay, okay,” Lucy starts, catching her breath. “So, we know I’m not messing with the magic, and you’re not messing with the magic. That leaves us with one other common denominator.”

I groan, and in unison we both say what we’re thinking.

“Oliver.”

Using a spoon to dump a handful of chocolate chips into her palm, Lucy stares at her hands, a line forming between her brows. “Can guys even fuck with magic?”

“Theoretically, yeah.”

“What does that mean?”

I shrug, holding my chin in my hands as I lean against the counter.

“Magic itself is rooted in the earth. Some places are more magical than others, and only certain people can tap into them. Ashwood Haven hasn’t had a man capable of tapping into the magic for .

. . I don’t even know how long, but that doesn’t mean men elsewhere can’t.

It’s entirely possible that one of them moved here to open a bakery and found himself with a well of magic at his fingertips. ”

She pops a chocolate chip onto her tongue, humming with thought. “So, what I’m hearing is you need to continue prying into the past of the new guy and find out if he’s the one causing all of this.”

My heart races at the thought of getting more one-on-one time with Oliver. Normally, being forced to spend time with others makes my chest ache with dread. This time, though, it’s rushing with excitement, and it’s such a foreign feeling I have to press a hand to my chest to calm the sensation.

The movement isn’t lost on Lucy, so I speak before she can comment on it.

“Fine,” I chirp, “but that leaves you with research duty.”

Lucy freezes, her hand hovering midair on its way to pop another chocolate chip. “Come again?”

“You heard me. We’re going to call in Marilyn for backup during the lantern walk, and you get to go look through Grandma’s tomes on town history to figure out if anything like this has ever happened before.”

“No way. Not happening. Bad idea.”

I grin at her, reveling in the way her eyes go round with panic. “Too late. Thanks to you, I’m on new guy duty.” I turn away and head to the front door to flip the sign from CLOSED to OPEN, feeling smug as she scampers after me.

“Have you lost it? Do you not remember my two-point zip GPA? I can not be on research duty. End of story.”

I pause before the front door, whirling on her as Don waves at us, cheeks rosy with cold as he waits for his daily caffeine fix.

“High school was a decade ago. You’re an adult, in case you’ve forgotten.

Besides, you and I both know that your crappy grades had nothing to do with your ability to do research and everything to do with your need to piss off every teacher in school by passing tests without completing a single piece of homework. ”

“But—”

I hold up a hand to cut her off. Don tilts side-to-side, trying to make eye contact and get our attention through the glass.

“But nothing. If it turns out Oliver isn’t behind this, then we’ll need a lead on what is before Halloween hits and all hell breaks loose.”

Lucy glares at me, her mouth snapping shut with a pout. An argument is building in her eyes, and I leave her to stew as I unlock the door and let Don in.

I paste on my customer service smile, but the mischief in my eyes makes Lucy’s glare narrow in a dangerous way. “Good morning, Don.”

“Good morning, girls!” He steps past me into the shop, rubbing his palms together, and gives Lucy a wary look. He leans into me. “Should I be concerned? She has that look.”

I suppress a chuckle. Lucy chews on the inside of her cheek, cocking her hip to the side in a way that would make anyone nervous.

I shake my head. “No. She’s just upset she has to read a book.”

“Ah, well . . .” Don beams at me, giving me his best mayor’s smile. “Perhaps you should make my usual this morning, Miss Amelia.”

“I’d be happy to.” I flash one more smirk Lucy’s way before heading for the coffee bar with Don close on my heel to avoid Lucy’s wrath.