Rowan
I slip into the seat across from Seth. “Tell me the name and contact information of everyone you’ve dated recently.”
He jumps, his eyes wide.
Seth takes his lunch break at the same time every day, always right in the café—something I know from the times when I stop by for a quick sandwich and coffee. He shouldn’t be looking at me with so much shock, but he is.
I remain unflinching, waiting.
“What a greeting.” He laughs and runs his fingers through his perfectly tousled dark hair. A soft beam of golden sunlight illuminates his dark eyes, transforming them into amber. “What counts as recently, anyway?”
The simple movement would usually sway me in some direction, a direction I don’t particularly want to go in—with thoughts of his fingers, of running my hands through his hair, of gazing at him as he—
No. Not again.
I click my pen and look down at my brand-new midnight-blue notepad, one I bought specifically for my hex studies. “It’s almost as though you don’t want to be rid of this hex.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“Then”—I flip open to a fresh page—“I require names. Whom have you dated?”
Truthfully, there are already a few names I could add to the list myself. I’ve seen him around with multiple people—witches and otherwise—but I would rather work with facts than assumptions when it comes to such a serious matter.
He shifts in his seat. “Can’t we do this later? I have to get back to work in twenty minutes.”
I glance around the shop. “Then you have plenty of time to give me a few names.”
Farrah Poole is dutifully attending to the few customers in line, while a few patrons relax, enjoying their drinks.
They could overhear, sure, but he shouldn’t be so worried.
It’s not as if I’m one of my loudmouth sisters.
As much as Seth might hope for a little privacy, I have a busy schedule, too.
I’m skipping my lunch to fit him in between two of my more demanding clients.
“I guess…”
I lower my voice accordingly and give him a pointed look. “Perhaps you don’t need my help after all? You’re pleased to let it run its course?”
Doubt it. Seth has never been particularly patient.
I press my fingers into the table and move as though I’m about to stand, but his hand covers mine. I’m frozen; he’s fire.
My breath catches as his warm eyes meet mine.
“Ro. I do. I need you.”
How many times have I daydreamed about him saying exactly that?
I shake my head. They’re never thoughts I allow myself to linger on for long, and for good reason.
Namely, the list of people we’re about to compile.
Seth can, and has, done better. I’m not his type.
I’ve always known that. He likes cool, confident, attractive, talented women.
I have my uses, but I’m not any of those things.
There’s a reason that, historically speaking, he’s hardly looked at me as a friend.
Lately, I think we’ve become closer friends, but I still worry if he would have me around at all if not for the hex and other magical, practical reasons. I know better than to read into his pretty words.
I yank my hand away from his, and his fingers twitch, resting on the table.
“Then… the list, please.” I write his name at the top of the page and underline it, looking up at him expectantly. “This shouldn’t take too long, right?”
He sits back in the wooden chair, staring up at the ceiling. “Victoria Welsh.”
I blink. “Oh?”
It’s true that I’m not Seth’s type, but I didn’t think Victoria was his type either. Victoria Welsh is… perfect, at least from the outside looking in. Wealthy. Athletic—I suppose they have that in common, but they play different sports. She’s a figure skater.
Then again, what do I know? She was always too popular to pay me much mind.
Seth, though, and even Laurel—they got along with that crowd much better. Apparently, well-liked enough for Victoria Welsh to date him.
He nods. “Over the summer. We went on three dates, and she ghosted me.”
“Quite a change of pace. Don’t you prefer to do the ghosting?”
“Ha ha.”
I jot the name onto the list. “She’s a witch. There is a chance someone who isn’t a witch could have enlisted a witch for the hex, but we should focus on witches first. Process of elimination, and all that.”
“So, you only want to know the witches I’ve dated?”
I smile subtly. That would make it easier, easier on him and on us, but I’ve never enjoyed taking the simple route. “No. Name them all. We’ll have to move on to the others if none of the witches confess.”
“Well…”
We spend his entire lunch there, writing the names of everyone he’s dated over the last year. Ten people. Most of the time, he’s never had a second date with the people on the list, or so he’s told me.
With two pointed exceptions.
Still, it’s good to keep them in mind.
I put stars next to the three witches on the list: Victoria Welsh, David Archer, and Scarlet Moreau.
“At least they’re all local.” I flip the notebook closed. “We won’t have to do too much traveling.”
The gods know that would eat away at my already precious time.
“What next?” he asks. “We’re going to track down every witch I’ve dated and question them?”
I nod slowly. “That’s the plan, yes. The easiest way to remove a hex is by the one who cast it. Even if these witches didn’t do it, perhaps they know who did.”
He squints. “Why do I feel like you’re trying to torture me?”
That’s an interesting idea, and perhaps it would be the best way to remove the hex—force him to face each of his exes, and hopefully he’ll learn the lesson. But I’ve never been that cruel. That’s why we’re starting with just three names.
“Don’t be silly. What reason would I have to do that?” I stand up, holding my notebook close to my chest. “You and I both have work to attend to, so we will have to get started later. Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
It’s too soon. I’m not ready to face it—to see each person Seth has dated, everyone he was looking at while I was forcing myself to look away from him. But Seth needs this. He needs to remove the hex and perhaps secure some kind of closure with Victoria Welsh. So… that’s what we’ll do.
Though it would shock some to hear me admit it, there’s only so much I can learn from studying the topic.
Hexes: more lighthearted than a curse, but far trickier, and closely akin to chaos magic and trickster deities.
Often cause varying degrees of bad luck.
Sometimes general bad luck, other times concentrated on one area of life.
They can grow in strength as long as the witch continues feeding energy to the spell.
But there’s still more for me to learn, even if the grimoire and online searches don’t have the answers I’m looking for.
I enter Aphrodite’s Cove and wipe my snowy boots against the vibrant welcome mat, shaking my head so my hood falls from my face. My wet bangs cling to my forehead, in desperate need of restyling.
The person I’m looking for is at the front counter: Aspen. For once, I’m not here to save her. If all goes according to plan, she’s the one who can help me.
Her eyes widen as I approach. “What are you doing here? I thought you would be hard at work.”
And I don’t have work to do for her today, so there’s no reason for me to be here. No reason for me to push my entire calendar back, rescheduling my afternoon calls, just to gather information for…
For Seth.
“My client rescheduled.” The lie comes out smoothly. In fact, my client seemed quite annoyed when I requested to reschedule, even though it was my first time doing so. Something tells me I’ll regret it later. “And I’ve been meaning to speak to you in private about a sensitive matter.”
“Oh?” She sets her phone, covered in a baby pink case, face down on the counter. “How sensitive? Should we go to my office?”
“Not that sensitive.”
Laurel already knows. Juniper and Maple know.
Sensitive may not be the right word, but the more people realize how much I’m helping Seth, the stranger I feel about it all.
Perhaps the strangeness is that I couldn’t help him on my own.
I’ve already enlisted the assistance of so many others. It’s unlike me to be so needy.
Aspen leans forward, her bright eyes sparkling. “Way to build up the anticipation. It’d better be good.”
“I’m unsure if good is the word to use in this case, but you’ll enjoy the gossip.” I frown. “What do you know about love hexes?”
Of the five of us, Aspen hasn’t always seemed the most interested in magic. She’s quite talented with love and glamour magic—hence my enlisting her for help—but her magic has been more… mundane.
The shock at my arrival only seems to grow when I reveal why I’m here.
“Are you trying to cast one?” Her eyes narrow. “Because I can help.”
That’s not quite the reaction I was expecting. Aspen Hawthorne casting love hexes? I’ve always known her to be more interested in creating love and beauty than destroying it.
My lips part, and for several moments, the only thing that passes through is air. “What do you know about casting a hex?”
She lifts a shoulder. “It’s within the realm of my abilities. Don’t look so shocked.”
“I didn’t know you practiced malevolent magic.”
She’s the last person I assumed would. My mother warned us against all kinds of baneful magic, but it appears Aspen didn’t take her words all that seriously. I did. That’s why I’m more interested in curing the hexes than casting them.
“Only when it’s deserved.” She sniffs. “And love hexes are usually deserved, in my experience. They’re not as powerful as a curse, of course—”
“I already know that much, yes.”
“But people tend to use them on cheating exes, things like that. They’re an emotional form of magic. And temporary. Why wouldn’t I help my friend process their emotions?”
Because it isn’t the healthiest way one can process their feelings, is it? Aspen may know better than I do, though. Sometimes, it’s like everything I’ve felt or experienced is stuck in a locked box right in my solar plexus. Now and then, it comes out, a sucker punch to the gut.
“I see…”
“Don’t judge me.” She waggles a finger. “If your friend shows up at three in the morning with red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, telling you that her boyfriend spent her paycheck on an anniversary gift for his secret girlfriend, you’d help them.”
It’s a specific enough story that I believe it may be based on fact.
A smile tugs up the corners of my lips. “You’re right. I would.”
Of course, I would help my friend. Perhaps I wouldn’t do so with baneful magic, but I would give them an astrology reading so they could see what they have to look forward to. Aspen and I both help in different ways, and I don’t mean to judge her approach.
But I have trouble imagining Seth doing something like that. He may not be the type to commit, but cheating… or doing something worse? I’d hope he isn’t capable of those things. I wouldn’t put it past most men, and I want to believe the best in every witch—that they wouldn’t cast an undeserved hex.
Doing so can result in the spell backfiring, which is rarely worth it.
There has to be some kind of misunderstanding, or something I’ve yet to see about the situation.
“What is it?” Aspen whispers, walking around the counter. She presses her hands into my shoulders. “You know you can talk to me about anything. You haven’t been hexed, right?”
“Me? No. Goddess, no.” I purse my lips. “It’s. Well, it’s Seth. He appears to believe he’s cursed, and the spell we cast affirmed it, but he doesn’t know why.”
“Seth? As in, Seth Bautista? I can’t imagine anyone would want to curse him.”
“Nor can I. We tried a cleansing bath, but it didn’t work. It seems trickier than that.”
“And you’re sure it’s a love hex? There are other kinds, you know.”
“Almost positive.” I roll my eyes. “He says it’s been impacting his dating life. Exclusively.”
“Hm…” She taps her long, manicured nails against the glass counter. “Then you’ll have to figure out who he wronged and make it right. If it’s a hex, not a curse, it probably isn’t anything too serious. Nothing that can’t be cured with a bit of communication.”
“Is that the easiest way? Talking about it?”
“If you already tried the cleanse, and it didn’t work, yes. Or you can give it time, but there’s no saying how many things could go wrong in the meantime. If the witch is still upset, the hex could change, start creating bad luck around other types of relationships, like…” Her face falls.
“Like family?” I ask, my voice raw.
She nods somberly.
Liezel.
She’s already ill, and the last thing he needs is another reason to worry about her.
I look away, my jaw tightening. “I am going to keep that bit of information to myself, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.” She squeezes my arm. “Remember, until you find who cast the hex, don’t assume the worst. But make sure he doesn’t deserve it. We don’t want anyone else getting hurt, do we?”
Aspen gives me a knowing look.
I could get hurt. In a way, being in Seth’s life has always been a point of pain and pleasure. The moments we share bring me such great bliss, but there’s harm in knowing the silly crush I’ve always had on him will never be returned.
It started in high school. He was always popular, and I… definitely wasn’t. Debate club. Academic decathlon. Chess club.
Meanwhile, Seth was an athlete, beloved by all. But he didn’t care if the other students made fun of him for being friends with me. He would sit with me at lunch, walk me to class, and he was never afraid to stand up for me.
I was a friend. And that was all I’d ever be. He always had his eye on someone else, and after a while, I learned to stifle my feelings.
And then, there’s greater pain when I realize how pathetic it all sounds. I’ve never found the strength to say it aloud, to him or anyone else, and even with Aspen looking at me as if she can see my entire soul, I won’t start now.
She’s never been the sort to pay attention to anything outside of her interests in fashion, beauty, and love, and I’ve often silently judged her for it, but when she looks at me like that… I wonder if she knows me better than she’s ever let on.
How many people can see right through my facade? I’m in love with the boy next door. I’ve always been in love with him, and he’ll never truly look my way. He’s annoyingly oblivious, truly disinterested, and I’m… ridiculous.
“I have to get to work,” I whisper. “See you at home.”