Page 2 of How Not to Hex a Gentleman (Witches of Edinburgh)

Chapter Two

KENNEDY

W hen I said Edinburgh is a dream come true, I meant it. These kinds of things just don't happen to people like me. I'm a planner. I like my facts and I like them laid out in pretty lists, with post-it notes for color. It's the only way I can keep the worry and the fear away when I have an aunt constantly reminding me that there is something very wrong with me.

My aunt was enraged when I told her about Edinburgh. She couldn't imagine what I would do on the other side of the world when I had one of "my magic flare-ups" as she likes to call them. But what am I supposed to do? Never leave my house in fear that I might shock someone with a little party trick. If she had her way, that would be exactly what she'd have me do.

A party trick is all my magic has ever been to me, but that's not the way my aunt has seen it. She always expected the end of the world if anyone every found out the magic exists. She had her own problems when she was younger—betrayal she has never fully recovered from—and those experiences led her to pretend she has no magic, which means I've spent my whole life putting up walls between me and all things magical.

Then the letter came. Followed by the apartment offer. For exchange students like myself, there are usually apartments available to rent for the duration of their stay. However, I was one of the later accepted individuals and all the places were taken. After some research though, this little beauty popped up. I can't believe I get to live by myself. I never have before and it feels like an extra cherry on top of this very sweet Scottish dream.

The tenement building, with its signature high ceilings and bay windows, is absolutely perfect. I expected to be stuck in some one-bed, one-desk shared space, but when I saw the pictures for this listing I fell in love. However, right now, I'm not enjoying the dark cement stairs or the awkward narrow pathways leading up to this gorgeous haven of an apartment.

When I finally make it up the stairs, I feel like cheering. There are only two doors on this landing. Hopefully, my neighbors are nice. There was a lock box downstairs, and after I entered the provided numbers, it popped open to produce a key. I reach for it now, inserting it into the door on the right. One turn, and I'm in.

The door opens soundlessly into a small foyer. I tug my suitcases inside and shut the door before taking a breather. At least all these stairs are going to be great for my cardio. I pull at the scarf around my neck, a bit of sweat rolling down the back of my neck and into the collar of my shirt. Leaving the scarf on top of my luggage, I push past the suitcases and step around the corner.

Only to be greeted with a knife.

I scream, jumping back, my hand coming up—but thankfully with no sparks—just as the girl wielding the knife screams as well. My mind shuffles through self-defense tactics and I'm ready to fight if need be when the girl's words register.

"What are you doing in my apartment?" she shouts and I drop my hands, fear merging into confusion.

"Your apartment? This is my apartment." Whatever moment of panic I had at the knife-wielding stranger is gone. I am ready to fight for my apartment.

"No, you crazy. Get out!"

The girl waves in the direction of the door with her knife. She looks like she means business. I narrow my eyes, processing this information. Her hair is curly and a mix of brown and black as if she couldn't decide on just one color. She's wearing a tight black long-sleeve shirt and dark jeans, but her wrists are adorned in numerous colorful bracelets. A large ring with a red stone blinks at me, the color matching her lipstick. She seems to be my age and sounds American, although probably from the west coast. I take a deep breath and try a rational approach. After the day I've had, I really don't need this.

"This apartment is part of the university housing and I booked it for my exchange program," I say, my voice soothing but firm.

The girl narrows her eyes dropping her knife-wielding hand to her side. "Well, so did I," she sighs. Her words bring another bout of annoyance to an already annoying day. I really just want to take a shower and head out into the city to keep my jetlag in check, but I guess I'll be dealing with this situation instead.

"I'm Parker, by the way," the girl says, raising an eyebrow. She's giving me one of those thorough studies, where she assesses everything from my hair to my clothes. Much like I've done with her.

"Kennedy," I reply, somewhat reluctantly. If she's a student, then someone messed up.

"Well, Kennedy, did you book a three-bedroom apartment or a single residence?"

"What?" I'm confused again and the girl motions for me to follow her.

"See for yourself."

We leave the tiny corridor and step into the room behind her which opens up into a circular sitting area with a bay window. There are two doors on one side and one door on the other, and an opening leading to the kitchen, almost like this is the center of the flower and those are the petals. It's adorable, no doubt about it. It's just much larger—and shared—which is not something I expected.

"I don't understand. It's supposed to be a one-bedroom apartment," I comment, peaking into the first open door and seeing a barely furnished bedroom. Just a bed and a dresser.

"That's what I thought I was getting as well. I suppose they forgot to mention this communal space.”

"That makes no sense."

I saw the pictures; I knew what I was getting into, and this is definitely not it. I was looking forward to living by myself. I had a plan and everything.

"This is stupid. There has to be some mistake. We'll need to figure this out." I pull out my phone, scrolling through the contacts until I reach the realtor's office—or I guess they're called letting agents here.

"I've tried that," Parker comments, now studying the kitchen knife like one would look at their nails.

"Why do you even have that?" I ask and she raises her eyebrow at me.

"Because every woman should own a weapon," she says with a silent duh at the end. I roll my eyes but don't comment, pushing dial on the phone. It rings a few times before going to voicemail, but as I open my mouth to leave one, the phone shuts off.

"Yep, it's been doing that to me too. Maybe it's because it's Saturday."

"That doesn't make sense," I say, still looking at my phone and pulling up the notes app to check the information I typed out for them. "The website said they're open all day Saturday. At least until six."

"Wow, you are organized."

I didn't realize Parker moved until she's reading over my shoulders. I dim the phone and turn to her. "Every woman should have her bases covered."

Parker smirks and I do another perusal of the space. "Well, we can't just let it be. We need to get to the bottom of this. I suggest a trip to the office."

Parker nods and turns for the door.

"Might want to leave that here," I call out and she glances at the kitchen knife.

"Oh yeah, wouldn't want to scare the locals." She grins and I shake my head, frustration adding pressure to my temples. Parker grabs her coat and we reach the door just as it swings open without a sound.

A girl our age with long blonde hair jumps back, a hand on her heart. She stares at us and we stare at her, and I sigh.

"Let me guess, you booked a single-bedroom apartment too?" Parker asks.