Page 6 of Of Poison & Pumpkins (Of Witches & Men #3)

“Alice chose to magically maintain the ideal temperature for her roses to thrive,” the leader announces. “So, this is the time to go to Alice’s for roses in case anyone’s getting married soon ... okay, next is Bailey Barnes.”

They fly through the list with ease. Elias has stayed uncharacteristically quiet. When he shifts his stance and accidentally bumps against me, jolts of electricity surge through me, like I’m being awoken from a violent dream. There’s no rational reason to react this intensely.

I need to focus on anything other than his all-consuming presence.

On stage, an author casts a spell to type without having to move her hands.

Then, a notable gym rat chooses the ‘most insane pump-up music to follow him around at the gym without using a phone.’ Next, a businesswoman I’ve never met casts a spell to wake up on time without snoozing an alarm.

A college student from out of town asks to not experience hangovers.

The last one I hear is a dog walker who picks the ability for the dogs’ poop to clean up itself.

“They called your name, Miss Pozinne,” Bob says and points to the front of the crowd.

All of a sudden, I realize how silent the crowd is. I pivot slowly. Every eye on me … curious … watching.

I make it to the front stage without tripping on my heels.

Selecting a cool, smooth stone, I place it in my hand, then grab a fresh knife from the unused pile and slash my palm across the scarred line.

Blood trickles down my wrist and I stare at the crimson flow.

My last spell whooshes out of my body like I’m attacked by a gust of wind.

Emptiness follows. Then comes the short period when magic ceases to exist, when I feel like I’m suffocating and want to curl into a ball on the street.

There’s no chance I could live for an entire month without a spell running through my veins.

With eyes locked on Elias, I open my mouth to declare my selection.

“I choose the magical ability to mix purple paint for all my business needs.”

Since I’ve asked for the same spell for years, it’s no surprise that the Nergs approve it. Little do they know I carefully word my request so all my businesses are covered, even illegal ones.

Once my turn is complete, I breathe out a needed sigh and make my way through the crowd.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, because yes, this terrible dress has amazing pockets.

The screen shows my brother’s face, but I ignore the call.

Orion always calls on Ceremony night. Which is ironic, because for the years I participated in them while living at home, my family didn’t support me.

It was na?ve of me to ever expect them to ask what it was like to have magic, or how it felt to be gawked at while standing on stage, or to question every friendship, waiting for when a Nergs would use me for magical enhancements.

Elias clips to my side like a magnet, and starts asking questions about my life.

Ten years ago, I’d be honored to be the center of his attention, but now, it’s confusing as shit. Why does he have his sights set on me?

“Did you know I’m also afraid of anything sticky?” Elias continues to ramble nonsense. “Yeah, I had an intensely traumatic event. I can’t be anywhere near peanut butter, playdoh, stickers, honey, syrup, jelly, birch sap, glue, tape, or tree frogs.”

“Tree frogs?” I glance up at him, understanding settling deep in my bones that he’s trying to get me to relax.

“Don’t ever offer me a tree frog, Rynnlee, or gum, or a particularly gooey booger, unless you’d like to witness a severe panic attack.”

I honestly can’t tell if he’s joking.

“Elias Thoren.”

“That’s me. Be right back.”

A man whistles a catcall as Elias walks towards the front. I feel my skin flush warm and I want to run into the shadows of the alleyway to hide, but I’m fixated on the stone in Elias’s hand. What magic will he pick?

I lean forward as the leader brings the microphone to his mouth.

“We have a new spell, ladies and gentlemen. It’s stronger than usual, with the restriction of a single use.

Elias Thoren, owner of the new Peculiar Pumpkins shop, has chosen to successfully fulfill someone else’s wish.

He will choose who. It cannot be granted if it involves breaking a law or injuring someone.

Do you, the people, allow this new spell to be activated? ”

Per custom, a cheer erupts, followed by one snarky ‘Boo,’ which seems to be the same voice as whoever cat-called him earlier.

“You have been granted permission, Elias. Good luck.”

Elias meets my eye. I hope he knows what he’s doing requesting that monthly spell. I hold my breath as he joins my side again. Why couldn’t he go stand with his brother? Or by the food truck?

“How’d I do?” he asks earnestly. “First Ceremony in a new city is always a bit nerve-racking.”

From the corner of my eye, I see his hands trembling. Wait. He’s sweating … at midnight.

“Are you actually anxious?” I gape, turning towards him.

There’s no way this man is afraid of anything, let alone of being center stage.

He could charm anyone in a public debate or be the type to receive a thousand bouquets if he performed in a play.

And any speech he’d recite would roll off his tongue like a slippery lollipop.

So, why can he suddenly not look me in the eye?

“Um, Elias? You’re shaking.”

“Only a little.”

“What’s something you’re afraid of?” Elias asks randomly.

“Is that the first question you ask all your dates?”

“Aha! You admit this is a date.” His smile takes up half his face and I want to zip it shut.

“Fine, I’ll humor you. I’m afraid of the dark.”

“Liar.” He swallows. “Come on, I need a real one. Pretty please.”

I groan and rub my temple, then whisper, “What are you doing to me?”

“Hmm?”

“Agh, you’re the actual worst… I’m terrified that my family will randomly show up for a visit without warning me.”

He nods, no judgment lurking in the depths of his gaze. “Well, I’m afraid of disappointing others … to the point of paralysis. Do you think my spell was a mistake?”

The genuine sincerity and concern in his tone zaps through me, alerting me to run far away.

All I can do is shrug. Why is he telling me this?

Why are we talking at all? Why is he standing by me?

Elias belongs near someone hyperactive and smiley, like Jessica over there, or the lady who owns the tattoo parlor.

This whole night is backwards. I should sneak home before my life contorts until it’s unrecognizable.

The risk of staying feels too high, the air practically crackling with a sharp intensity.

“Do I have permission to use my spell on you?” Elias asks, with eyes wider than a puppy begging for a treat.

“What? No!” I step back, needing to flee, to go home and pretend Elias never bulldozed into my life.