Page 9 of Cursed by the Love Witch (A Monstrous Holiday #2)

9

DARCEE

T he following day, I arrive at Prue’s door with a basket of baked goods resting in the crook of my elbow.

With a sharp knock, I hear her voice calling me from the other side. Prue’s room has always been a collage of dark fabrics and sparkling tapestries. Her obsidian towers and black spell candles lay discarded atop her desk. An old leather-bound grimoire is open on her desk next to a small pot of ink—incense, and the smell of smoke swirls around me.

Along the far wall, Prue lies tucked into her purple velvet sheets. Next to her is a tired-looking Zander dressed in a wrinkled white shirt and linen pants. Dark circles are under his vibrant eyes, and his usually glowing brown skin has lost some of its luster. My heart gives a painful squeeze.

“Darcee,” Prue says. “I’m happy to see you.”

I raise the basket in my arms.

“I brought treats,” I say lamely.

Zander rises from her side to take the basket from my hand.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell him. “Truly.”

The warlock shakes his head, his braids hitting along his shoulders.

“It’s alright. Prue and I bear some of the burden in our haste to take it. We should’ve double-checked with you.”

Zander settles the basket on the small table next to Prue, snagging a blueberry muffin for himself. He kisses her forehead softly, and I watch my friend practically melt. Their love is apparent; I can almost see it tethering them together.

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” he says, nodding at me as he slips from the room.

Once he is gone, Prue’s face morphs into a conspiratorial smile.

“You’re fully recovered, aren’t you?” I ask.

She giggles.

“Nearly. I just love how much he’s doting on me.” Her eyes turn dreamy. “Even without the love potion, I’ve felt this shift between us. He’s spent every waking moment with me—making sure I have everything I need—never leaving my side longer than necessary. And I have you to thank for it.”

I meet her smile with one of my own.

“It’s what I do best. Even when I mess up, love still finds a way.”

“Speaking of,” Prue says. Reaching beside her, she opens the table's top drawer and pulls out a small cloth bag. “Here.”

Before she can hand it to me, I hold my hands and wave her off. Prue lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Darcee, take my coins. And don’t tell me it’s too much. You don’t charge enough for your services.”

I swallow. “It’s not about the money. It’s about bringing people together.”

“And you, my selfless friend, have brought dozens of people together free of charge. Allow me, as your best friend, to pay you for guiding me toward the love of my life by helping secure your apothecary so that you may bring even more people together.”

I take the bag from her and tuck it into my pocket. It is far too heavy, and Prue knows she’s been too generous. Regardless, my friend is right: the price of my apothecary is staggering. I have enough to cover the rent for the first month. Buying it would be more financially sound, but I don’t have enough for a down payment. However, through my hard work and dedication, I know I’ll have people flocking to me from all over for my love readings.

I’m manifesting that, at least.

Besides, returning home is absolutely out of the question. With the apothecary, my living accommodations are included in the price. The small apartment above is nothing special, but I’d live in a run-down shed in the Wicked Woods before returning to my parents.

A cold sweat breaks out along my skin. Memories flash all more horrible than the last. The yelling, the isolation, the pain…Goddess, I need to stop, lest I won’t sleep a wink tonight. No matter how much I wish things were different—and in moments of desperation, I feel myself reaching for them—my family will never accept me for who I am.

When will I ever make peace with that?

My sleep is already restless enough; I don’t need to add my memories to it. Last night, I was consumed with thoughts of Bael. In dreams, I reached for him and felt the weight of his body against mine. The warmth of his hands caressed me as his deep voice spoke soft words of adoration. I had awoken sweating through my nightgown. Throwing open the windows to my room and letting in the chilly night air had barely helped.

His purple eyes watched me, feeling like a physical touch along my body. It was as if he was calling to me in my mind—urging me to join him in his dreams. When I woke again, my sheets were tangled around my waist, and my heart was pounding.

Even now, I can feel him watching me. Calling out to me and?—

“You seem distracted,” Prue comments.

I glance up at her and offer a sheepish smile.

“Lots on my mind,” I say. “Graduation.”

“Speaking of, did you ever decide what you would do about the High Warlock?”

I still at her question.

“What—uh, what do you mean?”

Prue’s dark brows lower. “Your grade. Did you ask him for help like I suggested?”

I nearly sag with relief.

“Oh! Yes, I did. He’s going to let me retake the exams.”

My friend’s mouth parted slightly.

“Really?”

I nod. “The prospect of me failing and having to repeat the course was probably enough incentive for him to let me try again. Spare us both the agony of being around each other any longer.”

“Hmm. Well, that’s good. Zander mentioned that he seemed different when he saw him yesterday evening. Maybe the end of the semester has improved his mood.”

“Different, how?” I ask.

Prue waves dismissively and plucks a piece of coffee cake from the basket.

“Zander said he seemed lighter. Whatever that means.” She shrugs, cracking open the baked good and watching the steam rise. “I’m glad we only missed one class. I’ll be playing catch-up before our trip next weekend. It's good that we had our little mishap with the sleeping potion now and not next week. I don’t think Zander would’ve taken missing out on the Bog too well.”

I wrinkle my nose. I had nearly forgotten all about our end-of-the-year trip to the Bog . We were supposed to use our field skills to secure one of the rare ingredients needed for our final exam. Our final test would be crafting the Dead Man’s Serum , a highly valuable and convoluted potion. If I can improve my previous exam grades, failing the potion won’t ruin my ability to pass.

“I hate that place,” I mutter.

“But an overnight trip off school property? Now that sounds like fun.”

“Only because you’ll be sneaking into Zander’s tent,” I laugh.

Her eyes glint as she wiggles her brows at me.

An overnight trip with Bael. Goddess, that is an unnecessary risk. Hopefully, by that point, the potion will have faded significantly. If a week goes past with no change, I’ll craft him an antidote myself. Hopefully, it won’t come to that. I’ll just have to keep my wits about me until then.

Having heady dreams about him isn’t helping the situation.

Neither is the ease in which it is to flirt with him. There is a wretched, reckless part of me that longs to tease him as if we are true lovers. After all, that’s one of the most exciting parts of being in love—the beginning, where everything is new and you can learn about each other. Bael seems cold and standoffish, yet the heat I feel from him sets me on fire. I like playing with it—tempting him even if I shouldn’t.

Again, I hope that if he sees me as an eager participant, he will be too embarrassed to broach the subject again once the potion fades. He will end it, and we will never speak of it or each other again.

Even as I think it, I can’t help but feel a pang of sadness.

If I am already going this mushy over a few stolen touches and hushed confessions, what will I be like when he begins properly courting me? What will that even entail? I’ll need to recenter myself this weekend. I cannot afford to make this situation any worse by losing myself to the power of the love potion.

Rising on shaky legs, I lean down and kiss Prue brow.

“I have to go check on a few things. I’ll come by again tomorrow.”

“I’d love that,” she sighs.

No sooner do I turn from the bed than Zander pushes into the room as if waiting for the moment he could return. He gives me a rushed farewell before settling in at Prue’s side. I watch them for a moment. The tethers of their souls are fusing—strengthening.

Jealousy and happiness course through me, and I wonder what it is like to find that. Bael’s perceived love for me isn’t real, but it’s easy to pretend it is. Especially as I take in the look in Zander’s eyes and realize with a heavy heart that Bael looks at me the same way.

Soon enough, contempt will return to his violet eyes when he stares at me. I will not allow myself to be swept up by my spell, even if that is easier said than done.