Page 54 of Two’s A Charm

IF THE brOOM FITS, RIDE IT

Bonnie

The beaded strands that covered the door to Behind the Curtain clicked as Bonnie shoved through them, Theo and Effie right on her sparkly heels.

‘Ouch,’ muttered Theo, as a bead whacked him across the cheek. ‘Solid security system.’

‘Luckily I find welts becoming,’ whispered Effie.

At any other time, Bonnie would applaud her sister’s sudden facility for witty repartee.

Only the stars and moon themselves understood how diligently Bonnie had been trying to school Effie in the art of flirtatious conversation.

But right now, it was Bonnie’s own gift of the gab that was needed to save the townsfolk of Yellowbrick Grove from the threat that Uncle Oswald represented.

‘Where is he?’ Bonnie’s words bounced off the multifaceted stones and metallic incense lamps that cluttered the shop, hiding the leaky bits and the bowed sections of floor that Uncle Oswald tried to wave off as being examples of ‘character’.

Seen in the sharp light of her new-found awareness, the shop had lost whatever charm it had held in Bonnie’s eyes.

The string lights screamed scam . The giant amethyst chunks bellowed one thousand per cent markup .

The alluring scent of vanilla and sage reeked of the off-brand plug-in air freshener she could see peeking out from behind a $300 broom with apparent aura-cleansing properties. And that damned Enya playlist...

How had she been taken for such a fool? Bonnie had been known to play the guileless ingenue, sure, but only when she had something to gain.

And not in a bad way. Just, say, when an extra piece of Toblerone was on offer, or a movie discount.

Not when it came to fleecing people. Or wiping their memories.

Bonnie had worked so hard to hold on to the fading mental snapshots of her mother, and the thought of someone siphoning them from her mind for the sake of a quick buck filled her with a boiling rage.

‘There’s a sale on those at the pharmacy,’ Bonnie told a wide-eyed tourist frowning at the price tag on one of the wire-wrapped crystal mushroom charms that Bonnie knew in her heart had been ordered in bulk from an online vendor she absolutely wouldn’t trust with her credit card details. She nodded at the door.

‘Good to know!’ The tourist dropped the mushroom with a plink and hurried off into the misty night in search of a more affordable trinket, leaving just Bonnie, Effie and Theo in the shop.

Impressed, Effie raised her eyebrows. ‘You’re good.’

Pride bubbled up amid Bonnie’s rage. A compliment from Effie was a rare thing. ‘I might not have your spell skills, but I have my own magic.’

Effie’s eyes sparkled. ‘That you do. Oof!’

She grabbed at Bonnie as Theo stumbled into her, having tripped on a tasselled rug that stuck out from a fake tree-stump display.

The display had, until a second earlier, sported a bowl of yellowish crystals that looked an awful lot like glass beads that had been sitting for decades in a pack-a-day smoker’s house.

These were now all over the floor – along with a hand-scrawled sign that read ‘rare yellow obsidian’.

‘Sorry. I swear that rug jumped out at me,’ said Theo, rubbing his shin. Effie was giving him a slightly hungry look that suggested he was welcome to stumble into her any time.

Bonnie, meanwhile, was tapping one of the stained crystals with her sharp heel. Yellow obsidian. There was no such thing as yellow obsidian!

She clenched her fists in renewed fury. Every hanging trinket basket, every artfully arranged display on a mirror-studded wooden elephant, was a lie.

As Bonnie’s manicured nails dug into the soft skin of her palm – it had been a while since she’d made a fist – the air crackled with the electricity of a coming storm.

‘Wow, your hair,’ marvelled Theo, pointing to the gold-rimmed Medusa mirror leaning against the wall opposite.

Wow, their hair indeed.

Bonnie and Effie were quite the sight. Their hair had risen up under the invitation of magic in the air, revealing all the ways they were alike beneath their vastly different hairstyles.

Their cheekbones, their lips, their strong don’t-mess-with-me-buster chins – she and Effie were just as similar as they were different.

She met Effie’s gaze, and though unspoken, their words fizzed across the room: Let’s do this, sis .

‘Uncle Oswald!’ Bonnie shouted. ‘Get your—’

‘—fatuous butt out here!’ yelled Effie, looking very proud of herself for speaking up.

Theo gave her a thumbs up.

‘I mean, let’s not fat-shame,’ said Bonnie.

‘I wasn’t...’ Effie shrugged, then put away the pocket dictionary she’d produced the way Crocodile Dundee might a knife. ‘Another time.’

There was a rattle and a clatter from the back of the shop, and then some choice swearing.

Momentarily, the green velvet curtain along the rear wall swung aside, revealing Uncle Oswald, who was peering over an old book, halfway through concocting some sort of potion out of what seemed to be tea leaves.

And was that a bag of guinea pig straw bedding?

The sham never ended with this man. Bonnie was offended to think that they shared a branch of the family tree.

Oswald’s oversized emerald ring glinted in the dim light as he gestured sardonically at them. ‘Oh good. It’s the whole posse. Is it about that Bastet cat statue? Because I don’t do refunds.’

‘It’s over, Uncle Oswald,’ snapped Bonnie. ‘ You’re over. You’ve done enough damage. We want you out.’

Uncle Oswald snorted, amused. ‘Damage indeed. I took your little business from abject failure to profitable enterprise in mere weeks! You certainly didn’t seem to mind bespelling your friends and loved ones if it meant you could buy a new purse or get that silly car of yours detailed.’

‘I didn’t...’ Bonnie had been about to say know , but that wasn’t true.

She’d been just as much a part of this as Oswald had.

But just because you’d done a bad thing didn’t mean you had to keep doing it.

It was better to see the error of your ways than double down on a bad decision out of stubbornness.

‘Of course you didn’t.’ Uncle Oswald regarded her over his tiny spectacles. ‘So, what’s the plan here? Are you going to bat your eyelashes at me and have me do your bidding? Or maybe your sister will present me with a petition?’

‘Petitions can be very effective.’ Effie tugged meaningfully at the sleeve of her cardigan.

Beneath its woollen edge, the green marks on her wrist glowed.

The book Uncle Oswald was poring over clapped shut on his hands, then flew off out the front door, which the crystal-shopping tourist had failed to close properly.

‘Hey!’ he howled. ‘I was using that!’

‘It was overdue.’ Effie’s voice was as clear as Bonnie had ever heard it. Turned out her sis had sass. ‘You can borrow it again once you’ve returned any other outstanding books.’

‘Which will never happen,’ snapped Bonnie, so harshly that her throat burned. ‘Because you’re leaving. Now.’

Uncle Oswald’s moustache twitched with scorn.

‘You can’t bully me out of my own town! After all, you were complicit.’ He jabbed a finger at Bonnie, that awful emerald flashing as though it contained lightning.

Bonnie folded her arms, flinching at the fervent heat of her wrists against her ribcage. It was a feeling she hadn’t had since childhood.

She didn’t dare break Oswald’s gaze, but she knew, just knew that beneath the tattoos on her wrists, the ones that she’d commissioned as a teen to cover up her magic, her skin glowed lavender.

The static in the air heightened. Now even the fake taxidermied animals on the walls were rocking mohawks.

Oswald snorted. ‘Your housekeeping spells don’t scare me. Please don’t vacuum me to death!’ he pleaded mockingly.

Bonnie unfolded her arms, staring down at her hands.

They glimmered with violet light. Her pink-tipped fingernails flashed and gleamed, growing hot with the strength of the magic she’d kept deep within her for so long.

She was more than a pretty face. More than a social butterfly. She was more than she appeared .

In a movement so deft she’d recount it a thousand times over breakfasts to come, she bent and whipped off one of her sparkling heels.

Then she flung it with all of her might at Uncle Oswald.

Its sharp heel, helped along by a crackle of magic, pinioned his chunky-knit scarf to the wall behind him. Uncle Oswald whimpered.

‘Holy shit,’ whispered Theo to Effie. ‘Your sister is like if Carrie Bradshaw and Bruce Willis in Die Hard had a magical baby.’

‘She’s pretty great,’ Effie whispered back.

Even sans heels, Bonnie felt ten feet tall.

‘Taunt my magic again and the other shoe will aim for a more sensitive bit,’ she snapped. ‘Out.’

Uncle Oswald swallowed, then lunged forward.

He grabbed one of the potion jars next to him, gave it a quick shake, then lobbed it in their direction.

Its glass container shattered as it hit the hardwood floors, erupting in a sudsy foam that hissed and seethed.

A solid splash hit the Bluetooth speaker hidden behind the record player, cutting Enya short mid-vocalization (thank goddess for that).

Effie grabbed her sister’s hand, pulling Bonnie back to safety.

Bonnie sniffed. A familiar lemony scent filled the air. ‘It smells like...’

‘Lemon sherbet.’ Theo gingerly prodded the foam with the handle of the $300 broom, then did the same with his finger. His skin, fortunately, did not dissolve. ‘It’s just cleaning solution and detergent.’

Of course it was. Like everything Uncle Oswald touched, the whole thing was a pretence.

‘That fraud !’ Effie’s eyes were wide with disbelief. ‘Wait, where’d he go?’

In the ruckus, Uncle Oswald had disappeared into the back of the shop – no doubt hightailing it out to his gleaming green Beetle, the way he’d done last year when a student journalist had asked one too many pressing questions about the provenance of the moon-charged water he’d been selling on a subscription basis online (no refunds).

Bonnie reached for Effie’s hand. She marvelled as she felt their magic twine together, coursing up through their arms and creating a warmth that connected them, always, for ever.

They were sisters, and nothing would come between that.

Not jealousy. Not their different ways of seeing the world. And certainly not some guy .

Beneath her cat’s-eye glasses, Effie’s eyes glowed with the hues of an unearthly sunset. Bonnie’s contact lenses felt dry, and she knew her own eyes were doing the same.

Damn, the Chalmers sisters could be impressive when they wanted to be.

Bonnie squeezed her sister’s hand. Effie squeezed right back.

‘Let’s get him,’ said Bonnie.

With Theo trailing nervously – and looking appropriately awestruck – behind them, they strode through the back of the shop and out into the misty night.

Clouds gathered around them, deepening from white to pink to purple, then bursting open in an outpouring of magical rain that travelled upwards somehow.

Up from the homes and businesses of the town and away into the night.

Sparks of purple, gold and green flickered, creating brilliant new stars in the hidden sky.

The puddles on the cobblestone alleyway steamed.

Uncle Oswald was in his vintage car, hunched over the steering wheel as he turned the ignition key over and over. The car clicked and ticked as the engine strained to start.

‘Sorry,’ called Bonnie. ‘Magic and motors are a bad mix. It’s a domestic charm thing. Do you want me to bring out the magic carpet you’ve got sitting in the shop?’

Uncle Oswald made a noise of strangled anguish that was up there on the list of the best sounds Bonnie had ever heard.

Finally, he clambered out of the car, dragging a suitcase with him. He always had one pre-packed, ostensibly because of potential disasters, but now Bonnie was seeing the real reason.

Effie clicked her fingers, tipping the suitcase sideways so that it burst open into a particularly oily puddle.

‘You think you’ve won,’ snapped Uncle Oswald, scrambling to shove his sodden clothes back into the misbehaving suitcase. ‘But just wait until you hear from my attorney!’

‘Oh no,’ said Bonnie, with faux despair, ‘a sternly worded letter! Whatever shall we do!’

‘My dad can help with that side of things,’ whispered Theo. ‘If you need it. Which...I’m not sure you do.’

Abandoning the suitcase, Uncle Oswald tossed a few items of clothing over his shoulder, then grabbed an e-scooter that a tourist had dumped by the side of the road and zoomed off into the night, his torn scarf whipping behind him. Ah, what a damp, pitiful figure he cut.

‘Well, this calls for a cocktail,’ said Bonnie, blowing on her fingernails to cool them off. They smoked lightly from the ribbons of magic that had coursed through them. ‘Hex-free, I promise.’

Effie hesitated, but only for a second. ‘That sounds magical, sis.’

Bonnie’s grin was as bright as the path the moon was cutting through the clouds. ‘Well then. Let’s go make some memories.’