Chapter 1 #2
Ka-ching. I mailed out that sucker soon as the payment hit my account even as I expected the buyer to bail or cancel or chargeback.
Given my trepidation—because who the fuck would pay that much for a joke of a book?
—I put the money from the sale into a savings account and didn’t touch it for a month.
But it turned out to not be an anomaly because the second dusty book, How to Train Your Fairies, fetched even more.
The success led to Flo saying, “Maybe we should hold off selling for a bit. You know, until we find out more about the books.”
“Find out what? I’ve searched for them online, and it’s like they don’t exist.”
“Well, obviously they must be known in some circles, or we wouldn’t have people getting into bidding wars,” she countered.
“No accounting for folks’ weird taste.” But Flo had a point. Was I underselling the tomes? Could it be the right collector would pay even more? How would I even find them?
I held off posting any more of Grams’ collection, meaning to delve deeper into their origin, only life got busy.
AKA, I went on a few dates with a dude that seemed promising.
Handsome. Employed. Awesome kisser. Pity he turned out to be married.
Such a bummer and why I found myself in the living room on a Friday night, smoking a joke, drinking wine, lamenting life.
“I’ll never find a man.”
Which was when Flo exclaimed, “I’ll bet there’s a spell in one of those books to turn your love life around.”
I snorted. “A love spell? Really?”
“Why not? You’ve got nothing to lose, and it’s not like you’re getting any younger.”
A comment that earned her a glare. “You’re the same age as me,” I reminded.
“But I’m fine being single. I know, when the time is right, my prince charming will swoop me off my feet.”
“Kidnapping is not romantic,” I reminded.
“It is when a pirate does it,” she countered.
I sighed. She had a point. The romance novels did make it seem exciting and sexy.
“I don’t want to be abducted. I want to enter a coffee shop and have our eyes meet as we’re waiting for our matching iced blonde vanilla lattes with salted caramel cold foam or while strolling down the grocery store aisle and we both reach for the same box of Captain Crunch. ”
“What boring meet-cutes.”
“Ah yes, because some rando tossing you over his brawny shoulder is so much better,” I drawled. Come to think of it, that did sound rather hot.
“To each her own. Seeing as how our eggs are shriveling, though, and the clock is past ticking and its alarm is ringing hard, I say we need to nudge the whole meeting Mr. Right along.” Flo leaned for the stack of books and heaved off the thickest, raggiest one from the pile.
“I’ll bet your Grams’ spellbook has something about finding your true love. ”
I grimaced. “You do recall she hated my grandfather, right? Don’t you think if she had a proper love spell she’d have used it?”
“She hated him only after he ran off with another woman,” Flo countered.
“True.” And I couldn’t blame him.
“Of the books we’ve got left to sell, this one is in the roughest shape so the best one to experiment with. I figure if we spill some wine on it, won’t matter, as it’s the one least likely to sell for much.”
Good logic. “Fine. Let’s see what the Grimoire”—the title of the tome—“has to say about love.” I heaved the ragged book onto my lap and began flipping through the pages, some of them loose from the binding.
“Oh, look at that, a spell to make your garden grow. Maybe we’ll start a veggie garden next year.” Flo pointed.
“Um, did you notice the second ingredient?”
“What the fuck. It needs the corpse of a virgin?” Flo squeaked.
“Rare in this modern time and probably explains the weeds in the yard.” I turned a few more pages, and my nose wrinkled. “Make your cunt smell like honey. Ew.”
“I mean, I can see the benefit,” Flo murmured. She reached over and paged a few sheets before stopping. “This sounds useful. Ward against morons. I wonder if your Grams used to cast it before you visited and got annoyed when it didn’t affect you.”
“Might explain her shitty mood,” I retorted with a snicker.
“Oh, now here’s one that sounds promising,” Flo crooned. “The Summoning.”
“And what would I summon?”
“Your tall, dark handsome prince, of course.”
“Doesn’t have to be dark. I like blonds too,” I muttered, taking a sip of wine.
“Fine then ask for a tall, golden Adonis.”
“Pretty sure I wouldn’t want to date a man prettier than me,” I stated, lighting a second joint and squinting as the smoke stung my eye.
Flo reached over and snared the doobie, taking her own haul. “Okay, so not too handsome. Any other criteria?”
“No pussies.” I’d once gone on a date with a guy who’d been confronted outside the restaurant we’d just eaten at, and when the punk—who’d been several inches shorter—demanded Derek’s wallet, he handed it over without argument.
Me, when the fucker demanded my purse? He got it, slapped across the face several time.
Needless to say, I didn’t go on a second date with Derek.
“Okay, so someone a bit alpha, taller than you, which shouldn’t be hard.”
“Ha. Ha.” Flo had long mocked my five-foot-three frame from her statuesque five-foot nine height. We’d often lamented the size difference mostly because we could never share clothes.
Flo stood and clapped her hands. “Let’s grab the ingredients.” Before I could refuse again, she did the unthinkable. “Do it! I triple dog dare you!”
Now I had no choice, hence why I frowned as I eyeballed the list. “Dude, it wants us to sprinkle graveyard dirt in step three.”
“And requires a drop of menstrual blood. Good thing it’s your shark week.”
I gagged. “Gross.”
“It’s a natural bodily function,” she informed me.
“Still gross.” And uncomfortable. My boobs ached. My uterus cramped. My tampon felt like it had soaked through again, already.