Chapter 17
“…and bring forth the clear skies!” Shanna finished her spell by tearing an image of a storm laid down in the center of the spell circle.
The smell of a barbecue wafted past her nostrils. No, wait, that wasn’t meat—it smelled like fabric burning …
“Shoot!” She rushed for the chair across the tent and frantically waved the lacy fabric until the fire was extinguished. Phew. She’d be happy if that was the only side effect of her spellcasting.
“I can’t help but notice it’s still raining outside.” The bride, Nessa, marched into the tent. “And the wedding is in thirty minutes.”
“I finished the spell. It’ll only take a bit for the skies to clear.”
Nessa’s eyes stopped on the blackened piece of fabric in Shanna’s hand. She let out a sound similar to a frightened deer. “My veil. You burned my bridal veil.”
Shanna looked down. Oh, so that’s what it was. She’d thought it looked very pretty…
Emphasis on past tense.
“You…” Nessa’s voice built up as she snatched the veil from her hands, “are the worst witch ever.”
“I tried—”
“Get the hell away from here!”
From Nessa’s bulging eyes and red face, Shanna assumed murder wasn’t far away, so she skeddadled out of the tent, even leaving her kit on the table.
“I’m sorry, dear,” Nessa’s mother said, catching her outside. She’d been the one to call Shanna for a quick weather solution—well, called Gran, but she had a cold. “You know how brides are. She doesn’t mean it personally. I’m sure you’re a great witch.”
As the mother left for the tent, Shanna stayed, letting herself get drenched in the downpour that showed no signs of stopping.
“I’m sure I’m not,” she murmured.
***
“I tried everything I could think of, and I can’t find the exact waterfall,” Chris said from the back seat of the car. “It’s not one of the famous ones, though.”
It had been a day since they’d left Queenstown, and Shanna was the reason for the delay.
Yesterday, her usual Mom-tracking spell had failed.
After spending three hours trying to make Simon and Chris understand how, due to both her kit and herself needing a recharge, she couldn’t repeat the spell right away, they’d decided to spend the night in the town closest to Milford Sound.
This morning, Shanna repeated the spell. It failed again.
And took half of the town’s power grid with it.
Not wanting to delay them further, and worrying about causing an apocalypse in New Zealand, Shanna then suggested they might go to Milford Sound and try to find the waterfall the old-fashioned way. They set out early, wanting to have enough time to do so.
Another winding road through the mountains, and this time even a tunnel, awaited them.
As if a painter flipped the canvas and started anew, the dry climate with brown and orange trees of late fall instantly transformed back into a lush, seasons-defying jungle dominated by giant ferns, as they exited the tunnel on the side of the Fiordlands.
“Have you tried reverse image search?” Simon asked.
“I did. I only get similar waterfalls, many of them not even here. Unless someone took a photo at the exact same angle, I don’t think we’re finding it on the internet.”
“I prefer finding things with my own eyes, anyway,” Shanna said, keeping a forceful cheerful mood through what was entirely her fault. “This is begging for a sightseeing tour.” She smiled at Simon from the side; he kept his eyes on the road, but his mouth quirked up.
“Aren’t some of the waterfalls only temporary?” Simon asked.
“Many, yeah,” Chris said.
“Somebody’s been doing research,” Shanna said.
Simon’s smile deepened. “Well, it is an important matter. However…” He spared a glance over his shoulder. “Couldn’t that pose a problem? Temporary waterfalls need a lot of rain to fuel them.”
“Nah.” Chris bent forward, leaning one elbow on each of the seats. “Look at this place.”
Shanna took in the wisps of fog hugging the mountainside. Above them was pure whiteness, no sky in sight.
“It’s the rainiest part of New Zealand. For most of the year, you’ll get at least a few drops of rain in a day. We’d have to get lucky to not have a rainy day.”
“We don’t have to worry about that, then,” Shanna said with a relieved chuckle. “With me around, you shouldn’t count on luck.”
An hour later, they stood in the small harbor serving the sightseeing boats in Milford Sound, the clear, pale blue sky of the early morning announcing a fantastic day to sail down the fjord.
Simon leaned in ever so slightly toward Shanna. “You were saying something about luck?”
“I think I cursed us,” she murmured. “Again.”
The low, spread-out building in the harbor served as a passenger terminal. They headed to one of the counters offering boat rides.
“You’re so lucky, too,” the counter attendant said. “A beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Must be a rarity,” Simon said. “It probably rained all the days up to today, huh?”
“Actually, no. It’s been dry for almost two weeks. Strange for this time of the year, but I reckon you won’t complain.”
Simon looked over his shoulder. Shanna tried a pale, apologetic smile.
“So, what can I book you for?”
Shanna shrugged at Simon’s uncertain look. If it’s been dry for two weeks, the temporary waterfalls would surely be gone. And there was no chance they’d be able to match the mountainside alone for the right place.
“Can we get the Pride of MILF?” Chris said.
The counter attendant looked at the floor, holding back a smile.
“What?” Chris shrugged. “Look.”
The small fleet of tourist ships was visible through the all-glass wall; one had the ORD part of its name covered up by a column, forming a new one.
“Let me get back to you on that,” Simon said to the counter attendant, and the three of them stepped away, huddling around the seats in the middle of the building.
“Going out there doesn’t make much sense if we can’t even see the waterfall,” Simon said. “We’ll have to wait for rain.”
Shanna bit her lip. With her luck, Milford Sound might turn into a desert while she was here.
And even though Simon said he wasn’t in a hurry and it didn’t matter if he returned home in a day or a week, she knew he was itching to get back, and she’d already delayed them for at least a day.
It couldn’t be easy, knowing one of his best friends betrayed him, tried to kill him, and took over his company, and he was trapped on the other side of the world.
“Maybe I can bring rain,” she murmured, wringing her hands.
“What?” Simon and Chris said in unison.
“There are spells. For weather. But my previous attempts …” She hugged her middle. “Directing the forces of nature isn’t easy. And with my capabilities … oh, never mind.”
“Wait.” Simon touched her shoulder. “That’s a great idea.”
“Yeah, sounds dope,” Chris said. “What do we do?”
As different as Simon and Chris were from each other, currently, their faces mirrored equal fascination, making Shanna wish so badly she could deliver on her promise. “We’d need a secluded place outside where I can draw the grid. I have my kit in the car.”
“I’ll find the place for the ritual,” Chris said.
“We can go to the car,” Simon said, then added to Chris, “Meet us outside, by the lookout point?”
She nodded and scattered. Shanna watched her go, her chest contracting.
Chris and Simon being so eager to help filled her with indescribable happiness, a reassurance of support, but also with gut-wrenching nervousness.
Why, oh why, did she offer this? She’d just failed spellcasting two days in a row, and now she intended to attempt a spell she couldn’t pull off even on her best day?
“Car?” Simon prompted.
“Just a second.” She walked outside to the harbor as he shadowed her.
Beyond the boats opened a fantastic view of pointed, snow-capped mountains slicing the waters of the fjord, mingling their dark reflections with the reflections of the clear blue sky above.
A triangle-shaped mountain rose in the center of her view, splitting the fjord in half, with one side continuing toward the open ocean and the other opening into a thick forest, with a glacier rising over it.
The view calmed her, but Shanna didn’t come outside only for it.
The first few groups of tourists were boarding boats; a smaller group was drifting toward the fjord in kayaks. “I’m sorry I’ll have to ruin it,” Shanna murmured.
Simon followed her around like a loyal puppy as she walked around the building.
At the mouth of the river, away from the harbor, she captured fresh water in a bottle, and after seeing the blackboard-written breakfast menu at the restaurant, they kindly let her borrow a piece of chalk. Finally, they circled back to the car.
“A kit for Her Witchiness.” Simon reached into the trunk, handing her the bag with a little flourish.
Shanna accepted it with a nervous, paper-thin smile.
They reconvened with Chris, who led them to a spot she’d found in the woods. It was a short walk from the footpath alongside the harbor; a small clearing, with the trees around thick enough to block the sun.
“It’s perfect.” Shanna started collecting sticks, marking each with chalk and assembling the grid. Three smaller circles, connected by lines, forming a triangle; each line split in half, leading to a larger circle in the middle, where she’d put her focusing crystal and a bowl of herbs.
With that done, she paused on the edge of the clearing, observing her work.
Simon came up to her. “It looks good.”
“Just because it’s drawn well, it doesn’t mean it’s going to work.” She tensed her shoulders. “Especially when I’m the one doing it.”
“Hey.” Moving behind her, he held her arms, proceeding toward the shoulders and neck while gently massaging her. “You’re a capable, confident witch.”
A shiver ran down her spine, as much from the tickling of his breath against her neck as from her own words being repeated back at her.
“No curse can conquer the powers of nature,” he said. “But you can.”
She closed her eyes, content to swim in his voice, revel in his touch.