Chapter 7
Iknew which light it was by the quality of the light—a small antique one with a stained-glass shade that stood on a mosaic table in the corner by the herb storage drawers, casting jewel-bright patches of red and pink onto the walls.
I stared at it, trying to remember if it was possible I hadn’t turned it off the afternoon before; but I had a clear memory of bumping my elbow against a potted plant beside it, and nearly knocking it over.
I had turned that light off. I was absolutely sure about that.
My heart began to pound against my ribs as a hundred scenarios chased themselves across my mind.
Could we possibly have an intruder? Asteria had never bothered with anything resembling modern security, so I knew there were no cameras I could check, or alarms that would go off if someone broke in.
Persi had once told me that there were some magical protections on the store, but they were all triggered by malevolent magic, not a simple physical intrusion.
So, I supposed that ruled out the Darkness, but unless they’d cast a spell that set off our protections, it could be literally anyone else, and the Darkness wasn’t the only presence I would fear to find waiting for me on the other side of that door.
My frightened brain conjured up a memory of Veronica Meyers sweeping confidently into the store last summer, and I shuddered.
We hadn’t heard from her in months, but I wasn’t foolish enough to believe she’d given up on her plot to unlock the Source.
Had she finally risked a return to Sedgwick Cove, and was I walking right into a trap?
For what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds, I stood paralyzed with indecision. Then a shadow passed in front of the light and, as though the sight of it flipped a switch in my head, I leaped into action.
As quickly and quietly as I could manage in my clunky, snow-crusted boots, I crept along the walkway and up onto the porch, cursing the creaking floorboards as I went.
I hesitated, trying to decide which door to enter.
The intruder was upstairs, which meant they were probably a witch—only locals knew about the upper level where we peddled real magic instead of kitschy tourist fare, and only witches could see past the glamour that concealed the staircase from common view.
And as that staircase was as old and rickety as the porch, I decided to use the interior stairs instead.
My pulse still racing, I unlocked the front door and eased it open, reaching up to silence the bells that usually jangled cheerfully whenever someone entered.
The last thing I wanted was for my arrival to be announced to whoever was lurking upstairs.
Once I was able to close the door behind me, I held my breath, listening.
Sure enough, I could hear muffled footsteps from above me.
They weren’t heavy stomping footsteps, but rather light and quick, and I was fairly confident, after about a minute or so of listening intently, that there was only one person up there.
I crept over to the counter, and ducked behind it to where I knew Persi kept some belongings in the drawers beneath the antique register.
In the third drawer, I found what I was looking for.
It was a small blue glass bottle with a cork stopper and a silver ribbon tied around it.
It wasn’t labeled, but I recognized it at once.
“What is this?” I’d asked the first time I’d found it while searching for a pen.
“That’s a charm I’ve been working on for upstairs,” Persi told me after a cursory glance to see what I was holding.
“Do you want me to bring it up and stock it for you?” I asked.
“No, it’s not ready yet. I’m still experimenting with it,” she replied.
“What does it do?” I asked.
“It’s a protective charm. If you’re in a situation where you need to make a quick escape from someone, you smash it open. It’s meant to cause disorientation and confusion in the other person, so that you can make your getaway.”
“That sounds… useful,” I had admitted. “But what’s wrong with it? I mean, why isn’t it ready to sell?”
“It’s too strong,” Persi said. “If the caster isn’t careful, she’ll confuse and disorient herself as well. I need to fine-tune the specificity of the effects. Now put it down before you drop it, and we all wander around the store dazed and confused for the next hour.”
I had put it away as directed, with no intention of ever touching it again, but now I kept it clasped tightly in my hand as I tiptoed up the stairs to the second floor, muttering the incantation on the label to myself, ensuring I could say it without stumbling over the words.
I would only have one shot at this, and if I screwed it up, I would only have myself to blame.
The thought of accidentally making myself more vulnerable to an intruder was almost enough to send me creeping back down the staircase, but somehow I managed to keep climbing.
In these few tense moments, as I ascended the stairs toward whoever was waiting on the other side of the door, I vaguely clocked that I was surprised at myself.
Wren of half a year ago would have fled in terror at the first hint of a robbery in progress.
She would have cowered behind the nearest piece of furniture and called the police.
Now, here I was, creeping purposefully toward the danger, ready to attack rather than flee.
I had no idea if that was a good thing or an incredibly stupid thing, but apparently, it was who I was now.
Finally, I reached the door at the top of the stairs, miraculously without tripping or making some other obvious sound that would give me away.
I pressed my ear to the door and listened hard.
I could hear scraping and shuffling noises, as well as an occasional whisper.
Was I wrong in my assessment that there was only one person upstairs, or was our mystery intruder merely talking to themself?
I decided it didn’t matter. If Persi was right about the bottle I now clutched tightly in my hand, the spell would have the same effect on however many people might be lurking on the other side of the door.
The tension building inside me as I ascended the staircase had now reached such a peak that I felt like a rubber band about to snap.
At last, I couldn’t take it anymore—I didn’t care what happened as long as something happened.
I rolled the tiny bottle once, twice, three times in my hand.
I whispered the incantation. Then I opened the door a crack, hurled the bottle inside, and closed the door again.
I heard the tinkle of breaking glass, a gasp, a whooshing of magical energy, and then, decidedly, a resounding thump.
I forced myself to count to ten before I opened the door.
The little stained glass lamp in the corner was the only light on in the room, but it was still enough to see by.
Red rose petals lay scattered all over the room, but I could tell they were not a result of my sneak attack.
Someone had scattered them intentionally, in the shape of a heart.
There were also candles—white tea-light candles in gold holders shaped like tiny bowls, placed carefully all around the room.
None of them were lit, but I could tell from the box of matches lying on the floor that they soon would have been.
Layered beneath the scent of the charm I’d just cast—a pungent and heady combination of geranium and hazel and chamomile—there was another smell, one I knew well from my many wanderings through the gardens at Lightkeep Cottage: lilies.
A moment after I identified the smell, I found the source: a large bouquet of them tied together with a purple velvet ribbon, and lying slightly crushed beneath the arm of the figure now splayed on the floor of the room.
Nauseous with fear, I stepped forward, slowly circling the figure until I could make out the features of the face. I realized with an unpleasant jolt that the figure was someone I knew. I swallowed hard, fighting down panic and confusion.
The Shadowkeep intruder was Leila Nightjar.
I stood staring down at Leila’s unconscious but peaceful features, wondering what the hell to do next. All my catastrophizing visions of Veronica Meyers or the Darkness itself melted away as I began to synthesize the details around me: the candles, the rose petals, the bouquet of flowers.
Oh, for goddess’ sake. This wasn’t a robbery or an attack. It was a grand romantic gesture. And I’d just destroyed it.
I ran over to the window and shoved against the warped old frame until it grudgingly screeched open a couple of inches, enough to start dissipating the overpowering scents in the room out into the frigid, salty air outside.
The quicker I could clear the air, the quicker Leila would come to her senses.
I picked up the lilies, pulled off the few petals that had been bruised and crushed when Leila toppled over, and cast them into the trash.
Then I found an old pitcher to place them in.
Finally, I clicked on the lights and sat on the floor beside Leila, waiting anxiously for her to regain consciousness, and wondering whether to pull out my phone and text Persi.
Hey, so if I, theoretically, used your confusion charm, how long would it take for the person I hypothetically used it on to wake up in this totally made up scenario?
Nope. Not doing it. I’d just have to wait. Leila was breathing easily and steadily, like someone deep in the arms of a contented dream. I watched her as the seconds ticked by, as her lips moved faintly, muttering words I couldn’t hear, and wondered if she was dreaming about Persi.