Page 3 of Uncharmed
Chapter Two
ROSES ARE RED
T he restaurant was all overhead lighting and not nearly enough crusty bread with butter for Annie’s liking.
Anywhere that didn’t take their bread seriously was not the place for her.
Her mind wandered with longing to her Celeste rosemary loaf, the crystals of special salt scattered across the golden crust. She made the topping herself, the salt shards chipped away from charged citrine, the sunshine stone and clear quartz for a sprinkle of good fortune.
Eating bread was always a good idea, but an even better one when it was lucky.
Her own luck for the evening seemed to have expired rapidly.
Annie had found herself sitting opposite Cedric Reuben and his very enthusiastically lacquered hair.
She had spent half the evening unable to take her eyes off it, so pale blond and shiny that it looked as if it was made of plastic, like a doll.
It literally reflected the candlelight. Annie wondered whether it would make a hollow noise if she knocked on the top and did her absolute level best to resist finding out.
She had listened patiently as he spoke at length about his influential father, the supermodel ex-girlfriends.
He paused a fraction too long to hear her laugh at his jokes and he’d talked a lot about hedge funds, but Annie knew nothing about gardening.
Even her stubborn optimism was struggling.
He hadn’t asked her a single question, other than an empty ‘yeah, you?’ every once in a while.
She’d nodded and smiled for most of the conversation.
Not that it really mattered. She’d never have offered up anything like the truth to Cedric anyway, but it would have been nice to have the opportunity to use her favourite versions on him.
Her girlfriends were determined to play matchmaker and had been excited about this one, so Annie had dared to let herself be the tiniest bit optimistic.
They had turned it into some kind of game over the years, hunting down (allegedly) eligible bachelors for her – although their definition of the term was one that she didn’t fully understand.
If she could have sped up time to escape the company she’d found herself sitting across from, she would have.
But she certainly wasn’t one to meddle with the rules against bending time, rewinding the past or speeding through the future.
Time manipulation was strictly against coven rules and she had a stellar reputation among London’s wicchefolk to uphold.
It definitely wasn’t worth the risk of messing with the non-wicche realm’s time structure to escape a bad date. Was it...?
But sending one man’s personal timepiece temporarily haywire, like a simple battery malfunction? That felt okay.
‘You’re so mysterious,’ Cedric crooned at her, with a smug smile that edged to one side.
Dire dates called for desperate measures and she had to act if she wanted to get home with enough time for The Spell . Her spell.
Resting her chin on her right hand, Annie barely batted an eyelash (or no more than usual, anyway) as she swilled her glass of rosé to cover the movement towards Cedric’s watch.
A delicate cord of pale sparks flew from her fingers, scattering themselves across the table like rolled dice.
Fortunately, magic required a reasonable amount of imagination to be visibly seen by a non-wicche, and men such as Cedric had less than none of that to put to use.
The hands of his watch suddenly picked up speed, winding forwards three hours on the platinum face, and Annie continued her routine.
She lifted her glass to politely cover a yawn.
Right on cue, Cedric was encouraged to glance at his watch and she saw his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
‘What on earth...’ He blinked, dumbstruck. ‘I can’t believe it...’
‘Time flies, doesn’t it? I’d better get going.’ She beamed at him, her best side directly in his eyeline. She didn’t even have to consider these movements any more, they just happened of their own accord after so many years – a combination of magic and muscle memory.
‘I swear we just got here. We’re only two glasses down. We’ll miss the oysters,’ Cedric said, baffled. He gave her a frustrated bottom-lip pout, which made her feel slightly queasy. ‘Do you really have to go?’
The man could barely hide his desperation, stumbling as he shot to his feet.
As she daintily slid out of the booth, Annie almost felt bad for him.
Then she recalled the last hour of her life, which could have been spent doing something infinitely more helpful or productive or successful, instead of blankly smiling at this insufferable man.
She willed the last remaining dregs of her patience to the surface and felt the spell – her deepest, longest-running, innermost enchantment – bubble brightly beneath her skin.
She plucked determinedly at the positive, patient thoughts that strung themselves together like a paper chain.
He meant well. Surely. People usually did.
‘Sorry,’ she giggled, to a tune that was apologetic and light. She picked up her clutch from the table, along with the single red rose that Cedric had arrived with. ‘I can’t tell you what a wonderful time I’ve had. Really. We’ll do it again some time.’
‘Tomorrow?’ He swallowed, voice breaking like a teenager.
‘Not tomorrow. But soon,’ she replied kindly.
Gentle and comforting, Annie’s rehearsed departure speech slid off her tongue like warm honey.
She balanced the compliments to flatter against the gentle excuse that he could pretend wasn’t even there.
The noncommittal second-date plans were hopeful enough to cushion the blow and the reality of her rejection wouldn’t land until he arrived home without her.
She always made sure to say the right thing, the spell igniting on cue, the words adding themselves together in a formula for the correct answer.
‘Let me walk you home. Or...’ Cedric interrupted his own train of thought, then tripped over a chair leg as he skipped to follow her through the restaurant, leaving his belongings behind.
‘I’ll join you in a cab. We can share a night cap.
’ He gave Annie what she assumed was supposed to be a look of seduction as his hand reached for her upper arm.
But his voice betrayed him again, more strained with every last-ditch attempt to persuade her.
She offered another patient, sympathetic smile.
‘Not tonight. Big day at work tomorrow.’ Annie sighed, as though it was breaking her heart to hold herself back. ‘I’ll call you.’
Cedric had turned a little green around the gills.
She tapped him generously on the satin lapel of his heinous velvet blazer and left him powerless to do anything except watch her leave.
Normally she’d allow him to call her a taxi, one last gentlemanly gesture to let him think he’d been everything a woman could ask for.
But the date had worn her patience to the bone, her energy had been sapped after a long day at Celeste and tiredness was starting to blunt her pinpoint decisions.
Plus she’d left it a little late. She was cutting it fine to get home in time.
She tinkled a wave as she left Cedric looking entirely lost and forlorn, then seized her chance to disappear from view and slip into the bathroom.
Finally, she could breathe again. She turned to the wall-sized mirror above the sinks for a perfunctory check that her curls had remained where they were supposed to.
They had, of course. She checked whether her lipstick had smudged.
It hadn’t. If her mascara was running, if she’d lost an earring, if her nail polish had chipped.
..Glancing down, she noticed her knuckles had turned white from gripping onto the edge of the basin.
Her smile burst through again as she spoke to the reflection of the girl who had just wandered in and was now re-sliding a pair of plastic butterfly clips into her hair. ‘Oh, wow! I love your dress. You look gorgeous.’
The girl beamed, the ego boost visible and vivid even in low lighting. ‘Oh, thank you! Just high street, can you believe it? Such a steal.’
‘You’re kidding! It was made for you. Fits you like a glove,’ Annie replied to the girl’s reflection.
Being the friendly girl in the bathroom was a role that she loved to play.
She liked the idea of this woman going home and telling her friends that she’d met the sweetest girl.
How she’d absolutely made her day. Every time she wore that dress, the girl would remember Annie and she’d feel good about it.
When the girl was gone and the coast was clear for magic, Annie blotted her lips on a paper towel and threw one last glance back towards the door.
She twitched her fore and middle finger together.
A gentle plume of blushing sparks blossomed from her hand, cascading in a pink swirl around her for transference.
In a fraction of a moment, the soles of her heeled pumps made a smooth landing on the wooden floor of her own hallway. Her curls bounced on impact and Annie shook her head to clear away the sickly, tugging feeling of instant travel by magic.
Through the hustle and bustle of the day, Annie yearned for precious quiet at home. She thought longingly of her sofa, her books, her pyjamas...And, for a moment, the arrival did bring relief – a quiet sense of calm and joy. But quiet meant that there could be no more distractions.