No Charm Done

Chapter One

The night before her senior year of high school began, Lily Allerton meticulously readied her new backpack, laid out the perfect outfit, and unwrapped the black silk cloth from around her tarot cards.

A hint of frankincense clung to the cloth like a stain, and Lily inhaled the incense’s remnants as she surveyed her bedroom with satisfaction.

Her backpack (purple, because it was her favorite color) waited by the door.

She’d already filled it with her laptop and a brand-new notebook, and she’d decorated it with seven pins from her enamel pin collection.

The pins were attached in such a way as to appear haphazard, but in truth, Lily had contemplated their placement deeply to make sure they ended up in the most artistically pleasing formation, and the results were worth the time spent.

Her clothes hung over the back of her desk chair.

Her outfit was new, and it was stylish without being overly trendy.

The shirt was a rich forest green that contrasted with her strawberry-blond hair and made her brown eyes seem like maybe, just maybe, they had a touch of green in them, too.

They weren’t witchy eyes, like certain girls had, but the green shirt made them more interesting.

Lily’s hands clenched around her tarot cards and she took a deep breath, trying to dislodge that thought from her brain by sheer force of will and stale incense smoke, but it was no use.

It, too, remained like a stain.

Witchy eyes.

Chrysanthemum’s eyes.

Damn Chrysanthemum, damn her witchy eyes, and damn her stupid name. Merely thinking of her was like summoning a demon.

Who named their child Chrysanthemum in the first place? It didn’t exactly roll off the tongue, and Lily refused to do her the courtesy of calling her Chrys, like she insisted.

Ella—one of Lily’s two rabbits—nipped at her bare foot as though to remind her that she, too, was named after a flower.

“Well, okay,”

Lily said, setting the cards down on her altar and scooping up the brown-and-white ball of fur.

“But mine’s a normal flower name. She could have been Rose, or Violet, or Daisy.”

Besides, there was nothing flowerlike about Chrysanthemum herself … unless, possibly, Lily considered blooms of the poisonous variety.

Monkshood.

Foxglove.

Datura. Those names would have been more fitting for someone as bitter and spiteful as Chrysanthemum.

With another deep breath, Lily buried her face in Ella’s soft fur, and the rabbit hummed contentedly against her ear.

She needed to put Ella and her sister back in their castle before proceeding with her tarot reading.

Thanks to her particular witch talent, they’d probably stay out of her way if she asked them to, but while being able to communicate with animals was a nice gift, it was pretty basic.

She couldn’t hold a full conversation with them or command them to do anything.

Her rabbits had minds of their own, and just because they understood her did not mean they cared to listen.

Much like people. She certainly couldn’t stop them from jumping onto her lap while she was trying to concentrate.

Or from eating her new sandals’ straps.

“Cinder, no!”

Lily gave Ella a light push into the rabbit castle, an enormous network of cage and tube that gave them plenty of space to wander unsupervised. Her brother, David, had helped her build it a few years ago, the summer before he left for college on the mainland. They’d decorated pieces to look like stone, and David had painted purple flowers along some of the walls. As annoyingly perfect as he was, he was also a good brother.

Lily hustled Cinder into the castle, lecturing her for the hundredth time on why she was not allowed to chew on shoes, and locked the door. Snippy, Cinder turned her back on Lily.

Whatever.

Lily turned off her bedroom lights and padded back to her altar, moonlight illuminating the way. She was lucky to have a large enough bedroom to do this is in, so she wouldn’t be disturbed. Sure, it was possible her parents might knock on her door, but that was about as likely as Ella and Cinder starting to speak. Her mother was working a late shift at the ER, and her father was just always working. Lily didn’t understand how there were enough houses on Thornhaven Island for him to constantly be selling something, but between his job and his volunteering on the Thornhaven Historical Society board, he was never around. And on the very rare occasions when her parents weren’t working, they were fussing over her younger sister, Sara.

Lily would have to burn the house down for them to remember she was here.

In her irritation, she snapped her fingers with a bit too much force, and flames streaked from the five candles on her altar all the way up to the ceiling before settling back into place.

Lighting a candle with your mind was one of those spells that looked cool but was mostly useless.

All young witches attempted it endlessly as they waited for their powers to develop, as success was often the first sign, but it lost its novelty quickly.

Most days, Lily found it less tiring to use a match like a normie.

Anger, however, made it easier to draw on her power.

Unfortunately, anger also made it harder to control her power, and control was what a witch needed to master to do anything worth bragging about.

Lily knew she needed to practice that part more, if only she had time.

In retrospect, that was how she should have spent her summer instead of hanging out by the pool or going sailing.

Without a doubt, it was how Chrysanthemum had spent her summer, which meant Lily was going to regret her choice soon enough.

Focus, she commanded herself as she lit a fresh stick of incense from a candle flame.

She was really not in the best headspace for performing magic, not even anything as simple as a tarot reading, but there was no way she was starting her senior year without magical guidance.

Too much was at stake.

She was neck and neck with Chrysanthemum for being named valedictorian, and with the number of report cards between her and the finish line dwindling, she had no room for error.

If there was a way to use magic to help her, Lily was certain Chrysanthemum would do it, and as her witchy eyes would attest, Chrysanthemum would likely have more success.

Whatever advantage Lily could give herself, she had to take.

She had to win.

Maybe then her parents would fuss over her a little, too.

Scowling, Lily closed her eyes and shuffled the cards.

The key to tarot magic working was the same as the key to any magic working—intent.

Cards were a tool, like the candles and the incense.

They helped a witch focus, but magic always came from within.

The most powerful witches, it was said, needed nothing but their minds.

Lily concentrated on her breathing, the feel of the smooth cards between her fingers, the scent of frankincense as the incense filled the air and mixed with the light sulfur smell of the burning candle wicks.

She shuffled the cards five times.

One for sea.

Two for earth.

Three for sky. Four for fire. And lastly, five for the magic they created.

When she opened her eyes, a shimmery purple haze surrounded the deck.

(Her magic always took on a purple tint, one reason purple was her favorite color.) Although the tinge—as it was called—was faint and already fading, it was proof of the power she’d released, the magic that had guided her hands as she shuffled.

Lily peeled off the top cards, one by one, and laid them out left to right.

The present—the Knight of Wands.

The obstacles—the five of Wands.

The future—the two of Cups.

And atop them all, a fourth card. The binding thread—Death.

Lily blinked, thrown for a loop. She’d wanted insight into her year academically, but the cards seemed focused on anything but her grades.

The Knight of Wands suggested movement or change, but possibly in the form of a boy.

The five of Wands meant conflict.

That was straightforward.

Finally, the two of Cups usually represented deep, abiding love.

And the thread linking this change of events? Death.

Contrary to its scary imagery, Death simply implied change, albeit big change.

Bigger than the Knight of Wands, and since it was unlikely that change was both her present and the force connecting everything, that suggested the Knight was probably truly about a boy.

That was strange, and Lily considered what she’d been focusing on as she shuffled.

She hadn’t actually been thinking of academics specifically, had she? Her intentions had all been about what she needed to do to make her senior year perfect.

She’d just assumed the universe would understand that perfect meant beating Chrysanthemum for valedictorian, winning the top prize at the magic fair, getting into her first-choice college, and basically everything academic or magical.

So. A boy?

Lily didn’t believe high school was her last chance to fall in love and meet the person she’d marry.

Her parents hadn’t met until college.

But maybe there was something to sharing the experience with someone you were close to that made it better.

All the movies and TV shows about high school seemed to suggest it, and if nothing else, Lily had always assumed she’d have the perfect date for the prom—someone she could pose for beautiful pictures with, someone who would walk into the dance with her in a stunning entrance that turned everyone’s heads, just like a movie scene.

There was only one problem with that prom scenario, a problem she hadn’t thought about until this moment.

Unlike most of her friends, Lily had never once believed herself to be in love.

In fact, she so rarely felt even the slightest stirring of her pulse that she’d started to wonder if she ever would.

Most of the time, this didn’t bother her.

Between academics, witch school, and her extracurriculars, she didn’t have time to be distracted by boys.

It hadn’t happened yet, and she was fine with it continuing to not happen.

Or she had been fine.

The more she contemplated the situation, the more the absence of a boyfriend stood out like a glaring hole in her social life.

Before she realized what she was doing, Lily bit down on her thumb.

She’d started chewing on her fingertips after having trained herself to stop biting her nails, but it wasn’t much of an improvement.

It didn’t leave behind as ugly a result, but it looked silly and childish and was unbefitting an Allerton witch.

Sighing, she occupied her twitchy fingers by writing the reading down in her tarot journal as the last of her magic’s tinge dissipated like so much candle smoke.

If pressed, she could admit that tarot readings were not her magical strength, but this one seemed easy enough to decipher yet disappointing.

To make the most of her last year, she needed a boyfriend.

The five of Wands suggested there would be some conflict along the way, but the two of Cups assured her of a romantically satisfying outcome—assuming she did what was required of her.

Whatever that was.

And Death? Death was likely the discovery that she was capable of falling in love, which would honestly be a relief.

Lily didn’t think there was anything wrong with her, exactly, but the lack of a romantic life made her different, and everyone knew being different made life harder.

So yes, a boy.

She would finally fall for someone and make that perfect-senior-year vision come true.

After all, no matter what challenges the cards dealt her, Lily Allerton did not fail.