42 Birdie #2
I can only sigh. Classic Phoebe. She loves to be in love.
And she just can’t bear to be bored. She’ll travel around the world to chase after a man.
But she’ll dump that same man after two days if she finds out she doesn’t like his preferred brand of toothpaste.
Lord help the person who finally catches and holds her interest.
I lean forward, elbows on the table, and cross my arms. “Are you okay?”
“Nothing I can’t handle. I’m a witch, remember? If he gets too annoying, I’ll curse his balls into raisins.”
I laugh, picturing her doing exactly that . . . if she had any magic. But she doesn’t. It feels like such a cruel twist of fate. Phoebe Prescott would make an amazing witch. “I miss you, Pheebs.”
She smiles. “I miss you too.”
“You could come home, you know. Help out in the shop this summer like you planned. We could share the apartment, and you could teach me to navigate all this witchy stuff.”
Her smile falls. “Birdie, I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because my uncle is a total ass! He used his high priest compelling crap on me. Told me to stay away.”
I sit up, snatching the phone off the table to pull her in closer. “He did what?”
“Yeah, until all the stuff back there is handled, he thinks I’m safer off island. Probably thinks I’m useless,” she adds, more to herself. “Why bother bringing me back when I can’t do anything to help?”
“Hey, that’s not true. Jasper loves you.
He’s just trying to keep you safe. And everyone knows that you’re vastly talented in, like, a thousand different ways.
So what if you don’t have active magic abilities?
You’re still clever and resourceful. You’re a smooth talker.
That mouth of yours is its own kind of magic. ”
That makes her laugh. “Yeah, Hortie always said I could charm the warts off a toad.”
I laugh too. “I don’t doubt it. And hey, you have somewhere you can go, right? I mean, if you’re leaving Sig . . .”
She waves her hand. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. I have some friends over in Cologne. I’ll couch surf for a few weeks. Drama happens on the island now and then, but it never takes more than a few weeks to clean it up.”
“Drama like this? With magic ravens, and missing grimoires, and the cold, creeping hands of Death choking us all in the dark?”
“Oooh—god—stop it,” she cries. “You’re freaking me out. I literally just got chills.”
“Try living it,” I deadpan.
She winces. “Yeah . . . look, I’m really sorry, Birdie.
I never meant to lie—well, no. That’s a lie.
I did mean to lie. That’s what it means, you know?
To be part of the supernatural world means to live under this big, heavy banner of denial and avoidance.
Even for a dud like me, keeping the secret is a full-time job.
But I never meant to hurt you. And I certainly never ever meant to see you get hurt. ”
“I know,” I say, blinking back tears. I already knew, but it helps to hear her say it.
Her expression turns a little wary. “Are you gonna take off now? I wouldn’t blame you if you did.
I know it’s a lot. I mean, Jasper’s a lot even without knowing he’s the high priest of a centuries-old coven.
If you wanna be done with Burr Island, done with Jasper and the shop .
. . if you even want to be done with me—”
“Pheebs, stop.”
“I’m just saying I’d get it.”
I shake my head, a feeling of resolve glowing in my chest. Everyone expects me to leave now that I know the truth. What, do they think I’m going to freak out and run away, hiding my head in the sand and pretending magic isn’t real?
I mean, I guess I sort of did that tonight.
I freaked out when Jasper and Hortie asked me to join the coven.
But it wasn’t just the coven that sent me running.
It was . . . all of it. It was Jasper most of all.
The way he makes me feel, the way he looks at me?
God, he can crumble me apart at a glance.
I don’t know how to hold up my defenses around him.
I don’t know how to keep my cool and keep from . . . hoping.
Because I don’t do this. I’m Birdie Rhodes.
I don’t manifest my girlish silly dreams. I keep my head down and I do the work.
I show up and I play my part. And in the past, yeah, I’ve run from my problems. But for the first time in my life, being here on this island, with these people, I don’t feel like running scared.
I feel like digging in . . . while still being scared.
I want to root myself to this earth and weather the storm.
I said the words to Jasper earlier, but I’m not sure I really meant them until now. “Phoebe, I’m staying.”
She gasps. “Wait—really?”
“Yeah. I’m staying on Burr Island. I want to stay. I want to help your coven however I can. If that means helping Jasper avoid the gripping hands of Death, then so be it. I don’t know what the heck I’m doing. But I guess we’ll figure it out.”
She sighs with obvious relief. “Oh, thank the goddess. I can never squeeze more than two words out of Jasper on a good day. And calling Hortie would eat up all my international minutes with useless island gossip. I need someone on the ground I can trust to bring me reliable intel. You gotta keep me posted, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Hey, and if you see Death again, you give him my number.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not playing matchmaker for you, Phoebe.”
“Wait—what about Howe? He’s pretty cute too, right? I told you he was.”
“I’m not interested in Howe—”
“But you’re interested in someone,” she presses. “Come on, I can see it on your face. Something happened. Oh, sweet Circe—did something happen with Jasper? Did you save his life from the creeping hands of Death only to have him thank you with a quick trip to Poundtown?”
I snort. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Come on, I wanna know! I mean, spare me the juicy details because he’s my uncle and, you know, ew. But at least tell me if something happened.”
Sighing, I sit back in my chair, holding up the phone. It feels good to laugh with my friend. A little bit of normal in this new sea of strange. “Fine. But only because if I don’t tell you, I’m sure Hortie will.”
She gasps, all but swallowing the phone with how close she gets me to her face. “Oh my god, what happened and why does Hortie know before me?”
“She knows because she sort of caught us. You know . . . in the act.”
Phoebe squeals. I can practically see her kicking feet. “Shut up! What happened?”
“Well, we kissed a little. And then he . . . I mean, we sort of . . .”
The phone rocks back a foot as Phoebe gives me an annoyed glare. “This is titillating stuff, Birdie. Really. You should record spicy audiobooks—”
“Fine,” I snap. “You really wanna know? This afternoon I got caught with my literal pants down. Pickles and Hortie found me topless with my bare butt on your kitchen floor. Happy?”
In the phone screen, Phoebe just stares. “You are my literal hero.”
“Shut up.”
“Marry him. Jasper, not Pickles.”
“I said shut up.”
“Bare butt on the kitchen floor?”
“And topless,” I add. “Can’t forget the boobs flapping in the wind.”
She bites her bottom lip to keep from smiling. “Okay . . . well on that note, I have to go.”
“Hey—” I say before she can hang up.
She looks to me, one brow raised.
“I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me. And I’m sorry you have to keep this beautiful part of who you are a secret from the world. But it’s safe with me, Phoebe. I won’t tell a soul. And I’ll still be here when you get back.”
She smiles, tears in her eyes. “I’m so glad you know, Birdie. It feels good to have another dud in the coven.”
With that, she hangs up.
Apparently, I’m joining a coven.