Page 35 of Charmed, I'm Sure
She snorts before turning back to her cauldron. Whatever is bubbling inside it smells slightly intriguing, but something about it is off? Almost as if it’s meant to lure someone in, but the smell will not be as sweet to the wrong person?
Cracking open the tome, I flip to the first page only to be greeted with a solid block of text, typed in the typewriter font, without any breaks in the paragraphs. Just one solid sheet of the tiniest font I’ve ever seen. How old is this book?
It’s filled with words like “aforesaid” and clause-dependent variables. I’m powering through the first paragraph asif I have any clue what I’m actually reading. Sir Hops-A-Lot croaks from the arm of the chair, and I could swear it sounded more like a cry for help.
I glance over at him. “What? I’m expanding my mind and learning more about witchcraft?”
He croaks again.
Bellamy turns just enough to raise an eyebrow. “He’s judging you for reading a book that most witches have never read or will ever read.”
I look between them. “Maybe I should be more concerned with the fact that I’m the only one here who can’t understand what he’s saying.”
“Probably,” she says absently, before she turns back to whatever she’s stirring. “You should probably study Toadanese instead of that dry text.”
“Toadanese,” I repeat. “Sorry, Sir Hops-A-Lot, I’ll see if I can find a text about that.”
She freezes, and Nyx lifts his head up from his perch. “You named him?”
“Well, yeah, I couldn’t keep calling him Toad. So clearly he needed a proper name. I think it fits him, and I’m even considering buying him a toad-size necktie.”
Sir Hops-A-Lot lets out a low, drawn-out croak.
Bellamy is staring at me with her mouth slightly ajar, while Nyx is snickering into his bed with a paw over his snout. For a fox, he sure has way too many humanlike behaviors. That isn’t a normal fox at all. He looks at Bellamy, and she nods her head several times.
“Yeah, I agree he is a strange guy.”
“You’re doing it again. Who are you talking to? Nyx? Also, why does he have more human behaviors than fox behaviors? I feel like I’m not part of some inside joke here.”
She doesn’t answer a single question or even pretend she heard me. “Since you don’t speak Toadanese, he said that he absolutely hates the name, and you will never get a necktie around his neck.”
“Well, maybe he should learn to talk to me, and I wouldn’t have to bumble my way through this.”
Bellamy only shakes her head, muttering, “You’re doomed.”
She doesn’t know it, but I caught the slight hook of her lips, the beginning of the smile she tried to hide by turning around quickly.
I shut the tome slowly, gently, as if it might combust from any sudden movement. It won’t be my fault if this ancient thing ceases to exist. I’m sure there is a curse that would attach itself to me faster than I can blink for that kind of insult. I place it back on the table like I survived a marathon I clearly didn’t train for.
I don’t say anything. Just watch her.
Bellamy is in her element. She moved with the confidence of a seasoned professional, her black sweater sleeves pushed up above her elbows. The kind that only comes from mastering it and knowing it will work. Her fingers move deftly through the glass vials, pulling a pinch of this and that. The ease in which she works through her bundles of herbs only comes from years and years of handling them. Her lips are mouthing something I can’t quite hear, but it sounds like a lullaby meant to confuse spirits or charm grumpy vegetables. Hard to say, really.
There’s a smudge of flour—or maybe bone dust—on her cheek, and her braid is starting to come undone from where she tied it this morning. Stray curls escape and brush along her face as she leans over the bubbling cauldron. And maybe it’s the light from the fire or maybe it’s just her, but there is a soft glow to her. Not in the “she’s a goddess sent to earth” kind of way, but in a way that feels likehome.
I’m not usually one to question our Moon Goddess. I know she doesn’t get it wrong. But I do think she has one twisted sense of humor. Because of all the people to choose for me, she chose someone who would rather kiss a basilisk and risk death than admit she likes me back.
Although, I can’t argue with her taste.
Bellamy is smart, sharp, and sarcastic as hell. In the short time I’ve been around her, I already know that every day will be an adventure and there won’t be a single dull momentin my life. From the first moment I laid eyes on her, I knew that life would never be the same. When she hexed my shirt, tried to push me away with the bright pink and glitter letters, I knew then that she felt something too even if she didn’t want to. I’ve been enchanted by her ever since and there’s nothing she could do to change my mind. Even now, as she rolls her eyes at Nyx and pretends that I’m not sitting right here, I know in my soul that she’s the one.
I know that I’ll spend the rest of my life chasing after her, trying to bring out that smile she keeps locked away, and avoiding hexes like it’s my only mission.
She’s my mate. My match. Even if she would light me on fire for saying anything.
I spend the rest of the day watching her mingle with customers as they come in to place their orders for spells, hexes, and there's even one curse order. I feel bad for whomever is on the receiving end of that one. There are a few times where I walk through the shop, careful not to bump or touch anything this time around. The shop feels like what you would envision a haggared old witch’s cottage would look like. But oddly, it flows really well and I can sense every bit of Bellamy in it. I could almost envision her setting each of the pieces.
The sun has set, and the orange glow of the lanterns outside is flowing in through her paned windows. I’m blinking slowly, almost falling asleep from the warmth of her hearth and the soft jazz tunes playing from somewhere in the shop.