Chapter 7
BLAIRE
Flora organized her cabinet with intention. Love spells on the left wall. Protection on the right. Releasing at the bottom. There’s a row of half-empty bottles of amber oil that’s used for luck.
I’m crouched in the study, pulling mason jars from the bottom shelf, when my phone lights up on the desk. I wipe my hands on my jeans and check to see it’s Autumn.
“Please tell me you’re coming to Zane’s party on the twenty-second.”
“Hi to you too,” I say, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder so I can keep working.
The dried cedar crumbles when I open the lid, which means it’s perfect for use. I set it beside the rosemary and lavender already lined up on the floor.
“Hi, hello, I love you. I miss my favorite witch. Are you coming? Please, please, please?”
“I already told Winter to tell you I would.”
“You actually showing up is a different story.”
“I’ll be there, I promise,” I say.
“Okay, thank you. Just remember, you promised me. I really don’t want a repeat of the Fourth of July.”
Our other best friend, Jules, wanted to play matchmaker with me and several of her husband’s friends at a town event. I didn’t pretend to be interested and left early. When I find my person, I won’t have to try. It was painful.
“I don’t care for how you said that.”
Her voice shifts. “Okay, busted. There’s someone I want to introduce you to.”
I set the cedar down. “Autumn. No.”
“He’s really great, and he’s not searching for a relationship either.”
“Absolutely not,” I tell her.
“He’s really attractive. Exactly your type to a T. Plus, he—”
“Setups are lame.”
“He’s friends with Nick. Smart, single, very attractive. He actually has a sense of humor, and I think you’d enjoy chatting with him. Yesterday—”
“Ugh.” The symbol at the bottom of the cup flashes in my mind. I pick up the jar of rosemary and inhale the smell, needing it to ground me.
“You deserve to be happy, Blaire. It’s just an introduction. I’m not asking you to run away with this man and get married, but he is very charming. You haven’t really dated anyone since Teddy.”
I huff. “And you know why. He tried to change me, Autumn. This is who I am. Most men can’t accept it. I can’t be with anyone who doesn’t.”
She laughs. “This guy isn’t searching for anything either, but he’s in town until the beginning of November. I really think you two would hit it off. I spent three hours with him yesterday, and I thought of how perfect you two would be the entire time.”
“Autumn,” I groan. “I’ll take the introduction, but please don’t pressure me into anything else.”
“I won’t.” Her voice softens. “I promise. Oh, I might’ve forgotten to mention, it’s a costume party. Perfect opportunity to show off those great boobs.”
“Guess if all else fails, I’ll come as a witch,” I tell her.
“Crap. Gotta go. Zane is calling me,” she says.
“Love you. Bye!”
She repeats it and hangs up.
I lie back on the floor and stare up at the ceiling. I don’t want to be matchmade. Charlie blinks over at me from the windowsill and flicks his tail.
“Don’t start with me,” I tell him.
I’m positive he rolls his eyes.
I pack the fire-spell kits into a canvas tote. It’s six mason jars, a pouch of coarse sea salt, and a stack of parchment I cut by hand during the last lunar eclipse. I grab candles, carry them to the purple Volkswagen Bug, and set them on the passenger seat next to a thermos of hot lavender tea.
At a quarter to seven, I drive to the shop, where Jamie is hanging outside, leaning against the brick like he did two days ago. The time we spent apart was needed and allowed me to do more research and put together several spells.
I roll down the window.
The evening light catches those blue-green eyes, and I keep my own on the steering wheel.
“Come on,” I say, nodding toward him.
He straightens. “We’re going somewhere?”
“I’m relocating, yes. It’s needed.”
He looks at the vintage car, then walks around and climbs into the passenger seat. His knees come up higher than the dash. He moves the seat as far back as it will go.
“Are you good? I can borrow a friend’s vehicle.”
“I’ll be fine,” he says. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise. You’ll see when we get there.” I pull away from the curb and head for the scenic route that takes us above the town toward the ski resort. “How have you felt since our last session?”
“Different.” He rests his elbow on the doorframe. “Lighter. I actually slept a full eight hours straight. That usually doesn’t happen.”
“That means it’s working. Negative energy can disrupt so much in your life.”
“Or I was tired?”
“Still skeptical.”
I take the turn onto the gravel, and the car bounces hard enough to rattle the mason jars in the back. The glass clinks together, and he looks over his shoulder.
“I’m just trying to figure out how you did all the things at the house. Did you set up the radio to say that? The door slamming?”
I laugh and shake my head. “I wish.”
He glances out the window, and I notice he’s cleaned up his stubble.
“I do have to thank you though. I took your advice and spent yesterday doing things I enjoyed. Had a great day.” He’s smiling.
It makes me smile too.
The road narrows, and the trees close in on either side.
Eventually, the valley opens to our left, and Pine Haven’s lights are already twinkling below. He looks down at them, and his face softens in the fading light. While his guard drops, I keep driving down the long gravel road.
“This is the real place where you’ll harvest my organs, isn’t it?” he asks.
Now, I’m laughing. The ease of being with him has me tightening my grip on the steering wheel.
As he grins, I focus on the road. This time, when he glances over at me, I don’t look back.
The small cabin appears through the last of the aspens. The headlights splash over the place that was used as a fire watch for decades. I kill the engine and park in front of it.
“Wow,” Jamie says, climbing out of the car, standing tall. “Reminds me of Yellowstone National Park.”
“It does have that vibe,” I tell him.
“It’s yours?”
“My parents’, but it’s more of a family cabin. My aunt came here to cast fire spells and dance naked under the full moon. It’s not quite full, but I thought we could do that tonight.”
He glances over at the firepit, and his eyes widen.
I keep a straight face for as long as I can before I burst into laughter. “I’m just kidding. You really should’ve seen your face.” I giggle, reaching into the back seat and grabbing the tote full of supplies.
“That wasn’t funny,” he mumbles.
“I found it to be hilarious,” I say to him.
He grabs the tote from my hands and studies everything that’s packed inside while I unlock the door. Instead of flicking on the overhead lights, I walk around and turn on the lamps placed around the small space. Jamie places the tote on the counter.
“This cabin is great. Exactly how I’d imagine Hansel and Gretel,” he says. “Going to chop me up and put me in the oven?”
His eyes scan over the tiny fireplace and wood stove in the opposite corner. He looks like a giant in this space.
“Keep it up, and you’ll have another curse to deal with,” I warn with a smirk. “If you need to use the bathroom, it’s right through there. It’s on a septic system, so you might have to hold down the handle on the toilet for a little longer than usual.”
“I’m good. Thanks.” He spins one of the mason jars I stuffed earlier today. “What are these?”
“Spells we’re casting tonight. Let’s go outside.” I pull the back of his shirt. “Grab the tote.”
Earlier today, when I decided I wanted to do this at the cabin, I drove up and prepped it for tonight.
The firepit is set up, and there’s food and drinks in the fridge in case we get hungry or thirsty.
Jamie sets the bag next to the pit and looks at the kindling waiting.
I bend down, pulling a flint starter from my pocket and working it until the flame catches. It takes me two tries.
“You set this up?” he asks.
“Yes,” I tell him as he sits on the wooden bench. “Tonight needed to be different. We’re building upon what we started the last time we were together,” I say. “Fire is one of the oldest forms of releasing.”
At the bottom of the tote is a stack of parchment.
I grab three pages of parchment and a pen out of the bag.
“Tonight, I’d like you to write down three things the curse has cost you.
Visualize those things going from your body and onto the page, like you are letting it go.
One item per page. You can say as little or as much as you’d like. ”
He looks at the parchment and flips the pen in his fingers, but he doesn’t write. “This is a journaling exercise?”
“No. We’re casting a spell.” I grab the salt I brought and flick it around the firepit.
The stars push over the ridge. He stares at the blank paper like I’m asking for a confession. I suppose, in a way, I am.
“Take your time,” I whisper, continuing the protection ward around us.
He exhales through his nose, and I can feel a wall sliding between us. It’s tall and bulletproof, a place where he hides his real self. The session we had at the manor helped lower it, but it’s still there.
“I won’t read it,” I say. “You don’t have to say them out loud. It’s for you.”
The fire pops, and a constellation of sparks drifts upward between us.
I hold his gaze. “You don’t have to be honest with me, but you should be honest with yourself.”
The corner of his mouth shifts into a charming smile, but it’s a real one. Then he begins writing.
I close my eyes, setting intentions and meditating while he concentrates. It’s mutually focused energy.
When I open my eyes, he’s finished and staring at me.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says.
I stand, spreading it onto the flames. Cedar, dried sprigs, bay leaves, and rosemary flutter onto the fire. The smell encapsulates me, curling up into the air. I whisper a banish spell under my breath.
“Take the first paper and read it to yourself three times, and then you’ll fold it in half, away from you. Then you’ll repeat the fold until you can’t any longer.”