Chapter Eleven
Ria
Ria had shared many kisses with many women before.
Okay, maybe not many, but at least four.
Five if you count the night in college with her roommate that may or may not have been a dream since neither said anything the next morning.
Regardless, of all the kisses shared, none of them—not a single one—felt as perfect as when Lissa kissed her.
Lissa tasted of strawberries, and her lips were soft and welcoming.
Ria felt herself melt into the kiss, surrendering all thoughts other than the pull she felt toward this woman.
It wasn’t just perfect. It was magic. It was a moment to be savored, something to remember any time she considered giving up on love.
It was the kind of kiss that changed everything.
Right up until Ria vomited.
She did, thankfully, pull back in time to keep from puking on Lissa, but Bootsy’s borrowed boots didn’t fare quite so well.
“Oh my Goddess,” Ria groaned, hunching over the end of the booth, her back to Lissa so she didn’t have to see the sheer horror on her friend’s face—if they could even be considered friends at this point.
She didn’t usually make out with her friends save for that one college night that was probably a fever dream.
Ria didn’t think she could get out of this situation by passing out and pretending it never happened though.
Or could she? Maybe if she sagged back into Lissa’s arms, she could fake falling asleep, and then tomorrow she could go join a convent in Siberia.
A solid plan, aside from having no interest in being a nun.
Not to mention she knew Lissa had to take care of a drunk girlfriend in the past, and Ria couldn’t bring herself to reopen those wounds.
She’d already done enough damage for one night.
No, she would have to deal with this like an adult…by running away.
Ria leapt from the booth and booked it out of the bar.
“Ria!” Lissa called from behind her, but Ria had no intention of stopping.
She didn’t know what she would see if she looked back, but it couldn’t be anything good.
If it was pity or disgust, she would die of mortification.
If it was anything else… Well, she couldn’t fathom any other possible reaction to the person you’re kissing violently ripping themselves away in order to decorate the floor of the bar with strawberry margaritas and partially digested funnel cakes.
Bursting through the door, she hooked a right and continued trucking at breakneck speed for fear Lissa might try to follow her. Ria made it about two blocks before her stomach reminded her it wasn’t quite empty yet, and she ducked into an alleyway to toss up the last dredges of alcohol and bile.
When there was nothing left inside her but shame, she stumbled out of the alley and slumped down against the wall. Dropping her head into her hands, she struggled to hold back the tears that were making a mad dash to escape down her cheeks.
She’d been such an idiot to drink so much.
Save for the occasional glass of wine when she was stressed after a long day, she hardly ever indulged.
She’d just been so nervous in Bootsy’s revealing outfit she was practically shaking.
It had taken everything in her not to beg a bystander to let her purchase their coat, cost be damned.
Then Lissa had arrived and looked at her with such heat Ria felt sexier than she had when she was twenty-two.
She’d long since accepted turning thirty meant she was basically a spinster.
At least, that’s how the media portrayed things.
She knew more than anyone marketing really only focused on the eighteen to twenty-five demographic.
Short of vaginal creams or support stockings, nobody actually cared what women over thirty thought.
That’s what happened when you let dumbass men be in charge of things.
So when Ria had seen that desire in Lissa’s eyes, she threw caution to the wind. Hell, she threw caution straight into a twister, never to be seen again. A decision she was seriously regretting as her stomach rumbled once more, threatening another coup.
Ria groaned. Surely, there couldn’t be anything left at this point.
She surrendered her integrity the moment she kissed her client, but if she had any hope of holding onto the last semblance of dignity, she needed to get off the street fast. Pride was very much still in full swing even as the sun began dropping below the horizon, but she’d done more than enough celebrating.
She just had no idea how to get home.
Fishing her cell phone out of her vomit-soaked boot, she dialed Bootsy’s number.
“Hey, babe,” Bootsy greeted. “How’s it going? You get any yet?”
Sick, Ria wanted to answer. She’d gotten sick and embarrassed. Instead, she choked out, “I’m so sorry, but can you come get me? I need to go home.”
She must have sounded as pathetic as she felt, because Bootsy asked no questions beyond “Where are you?”
Ria glanced up at the nearest street sign. “Corner of Fourth and Davis.”
“I’ll be right there,” Bootsy promised, and then the phone went dead.
Dropping her head back against the graffiti-covered wall, Ria stopped fighting the flow of tears. Her first chance at a real client, and not only did she clam jam destiny, but she straight-up stole Lissa away from her destined love.
How could she have done that? Witches never meddle with their own spell, magical mandate number one.
How did things go so horribly wrong? Lissa wasn’t supposed to want to kiss her, and Ria really wasn’t supposed to want to kiss her back.
Had she really screwed the spell up so badly it didn’t work at all?
“Oof, you look awful,” a sympathetic voice said, breaking through her wallowing.
Ria looked up to see Bootsy standing over her. She was pretty sure her friend had been fully dressed when they parted ways that morning, but aside from some very strategically placed rainbow stickers that couldn’t possibly be comfortable, Bootsy was basically baring it all.
Dang, Ria would kill for that kind of confidence.
She let out a sad little moan in response to Bootsy’s question, then gestured toward the pink boots. “I’m so sorry,” she croaked out.
“It’s all good,” Bootsy replied, holding out a hand for Ria to take. “You’re not doing Pride right if you don’t end the evening with at least one embarrassing story.” She giggled as she hauled Ria to her feet. “Besides, I have a closet full of shoes. Those are most definitely yours now.”
Ria let out a pathetic laugh as Bootsy slung an arm around her shoulder, guiding her down the street toward the public lot they’d parked in.
“I’m sorry I ruined your night,” Ria said. “I’m sure I interrupted something fun.”
“Nah,” Bootsy said dismissively, tilting her head to rest on Ria’s shoulder while they shambled down the sidewalk. “Witches before bitches, always. I got you, boo.”
Tears pricked at Ria’s eyes again, only this time they weren’t for shame. She couldn’t even wrap her brain around the fact this woman she barely knew was willing to end her entire night just to drag her drunk ass home.
So this is what it means to be part of a coven, Ria thought while Bootsy helped her into the car. She’d always refused to join one because she believed it meant giving up her normal life. If she chose magic, then that was it. She could never be anything but a witch.
Now, Ria was starting to think maybe she’d been wrong.
About so many things.
Goddess, kill me now.
Sunlight streamed through the curtain-free windows of Ria’s bedroom, pulling her from the fitful sleep she’d endured. Normally, she reveled in nature’s wake-up call, hence the lack of curtains, but right then she was tempted to burrow under her covers and take up residency in her bed.
After all, she couldn’t embarrass herself if she never left her room. Something to consider.
Her permanent relocation would have to wait until another day though.
After speaking with Bootsy last night, she was convinced she’d messed up the handcasting somehow.
Apparently the destiny spell didn’t just guide you toward your true love, but it specifically worked to prevent any distractions.
Considering Ria had been one huge distraction yesterday, the magic was definitely not functioning correctly.
Dragging her butt out of bed, Ria pulled on her battered purple robe and trudged out of her bedroom.
On mornings like this, she regretted not drinking coffee, but she’d settle for English Breakfast tea and maybe a tonic to banish the Irish clog dancers who’d been performing nonstop inside her skull.
Peering around the hallway, she sighed in relief at seeing her mom was nowhere in sight. She had zero patience for that basket of bananas this morning.
Moving as quickly as the headache would allow, Ria poured herself a mug of tea, then trudged out to her shed. Digging through her cabinet of potions, she found the one she was looking for and tossed it back with even more enthusiasm than she’d had when devouring the margaritas last night.
Better than ibuprofen, Ria thought as she felt the tingling magic slide through her body, taking the pain in her head with it as it faded.
That was why she loved potions. You combine the right herbs with a spark of will to amplify them and voila!
Instant relief. You screw up a potion, nothing happens.
You screw up a destiny love spell, and you find yourself making out with a hottie you’re supposed to be helping.
Ria forced the guilt down to the pit of her stomach, where it would no doubt fester for days, then turned to the spellbook she’d shoved off to the corner of her work bench.
“Okay,” Ria muttered, “let’s find out where I went wrong.”
She’d just flipped to the page of the spell, when a flash of white came flying out of nowhere to drop onto her book.
“Hey, Nibbles,” she cooed, running her fingers over his light cream-colored fur. “How’s it going? Other squirrels aren’t making fun of your new look, are they?”
Nibbles stood on his hind legs and let out a string of highly animated squeaks and chirps.
“Okay, okay,” Ria assured the annoyed animal. “I’ll see if I can fix you. But I need to fix this other spell first. You understand, right?”
Nibbles glared at her for another second, then hopped off the book and curled up in a pile of mint leaves, keeping one eye trained on Ria.
“Someone’s going to smell like toothpaste,” she commented, before turning back to the spellbook.
Ria scanned the page carefully, going line by line to see where she might have messed up. The correct words? Check. The hand gestures? Yeah, she was almost certain those were what she had done. Will? That one was the easiest. Of course her will had been focused on Lissa’s destiny.
So if she got everything right then how come…?
Her eyes drifted lower on the page to the asterisk at the bottom.
*Destiny love spell is for guidance only. To make two people fall in love, utilize the ritual on the next page.
A brief moment of vague curiosity had Ria flipping the page. She never did rituals, so that couldn’t possibly be the reason why Lissa had kissed her last night. There was no way she’d made Lissa fall in love with her.
Ritual of Love
To make two people fall in love, follow this ritual precisely. Be warned, using this spell could result in terrible consequences if done for selfish reasons.
Step 1: Conduct the ritual in a place surrounded by magic.
Step 2: Invoke Hecate’s name.
Step 3: Have both parties dine on the fruit of the earth.
Step 4: Have both parties share the milk of the land.
Step 5: Call upon your will to summon the emotion of love.
Step 6: Seal the ritual with a blood sacrifice to Gaia.
Step 7: Close with a blessing to Hecate.
A nauseous, sinking feeling kicked the guilt out of Ria’s stomach.
No. No it couldn’t be…
It all came rushing in like remembering a bad dream.
Mixie’s magic patio. Mentioning Hecate and the moonlight rituals. The huckleberry scones. The oat milk latte. Her cut finger. And of course she would never forget her awkward goodbye. “Hecate’s blessings upon you,” she’d said before racing away from Lissa.
Oh, Goddess. Ria hadn’t just screwed up. She’d fucked up so royally the stars might rearrange themselves into a new constellation to forever display her ineptitude.
Maybe it wasn’t too late though. Maybe it could be reversed…
She carefully read every word on the page, her eyes finally dropping to the asterisk at the bottom.
*Ritual love spells cannot be reversed. Love must be allowed to run its course.
Ria was really, really, starting to hate asterisks.