Chapter 2 Rosie #2
“Listen, this is getting a bit ridiculous. Maybe we shouldn’t—” I start, reaching to put out a candle and hopefully break the connection, but his eyes go wide.
“I can remove your family curse,” he says quickly, and I stop, fighting my smile.
“From my entire family and future witches,” I demand, clarifying again.
He grins. “You’re a smart little witch.”
“Thank you,” I say, preening.
“I can do that, but I’ll need a favor in return. Once you accomplish it, I’ll break the curse, and you can go on your merry, lovestruck way.”
I narrow my eyes, not liking this at all. Mom told me never to make deals with the dead, and this feels very much like a deal. But also… I want to fall in love. I want to find my soulmate.
“What’s the favor?” I ask, trying to seem nonchalant despite my pounding heart.
“I want you to help me…” he hesitates as if he’s trying to decide how to phrase it, “… move to the afterlife.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’m stuck here, between planes, not quite alive, but not in the afterworld, either.”
“Maybe you cursed too many people and have to repent?” I suggest, and he shakes his head.
“No, no, I chose to stay here. Wanted to hang out, see what happened before I really kicked the bucket.”
“So you chose to stay?” I ask, skeptical.
“Yes, yes, I wanted to watch and make sure my… curses went well.” There’s a self-satisfied smile on his lips as if he knows his curses have been playing out exactly as he had hoped.
“So you want me to help you?”
He nods fervently. “And when I do break the curse, you’ll no longer feel the burden of heartbreak.”
“The burden of heartbreak?” I ask. I wave a hand over my chest, where my most recent heartbreak is festering, an unfortunately familiar feeling at this point. “Will I still feel all of this? The pain of the failed relationships?” He contemplates my question for a moment, then shakes his head.
“No, all previous heartbreak won’t matter after the curse is gone.
You won’t even remember all of those men you dated before.
” My mind reviews my many, many heartbreaks over the years, each one taking a bit more from me.
What would it be like to be unburdened of all of that, to be free of the bitterness each one left behind?
A beam of glee moves through me, and I fight a smile.
“Mhmm,” I hum, not wanting to give anything away. “And what would that entail?”
“Well, you’ll need to gather some ingredients.”
“Ingredients?”
“Yes, yes, for a potion. Simple things, you know. A hair from the most powerful man in town, three a.m. moonflowers, tears from a vampire—” he starts.
“Are you kidding me?” I glare at him.
“They should be relatively simple to find.” He waves his hand like it’s no big deal. He tips his chin to my desk in the corner. “Do you want to grab a pen?” I stare at him, then at my desk, before sighing.
“In a second,” I say, crossing my arms. “Once I have the ingredients, then what do I have to do?”
“Well, you have to brew it up on the next full moon, then I drink it.”
“You drink it? But you’re a ghost.”
“This kind of potion, I can drink,” he explains with a wave of his hands.
“And what, then is the curse broken?”
He nods eagerly. “Once I pass on, all of my curses are broken. Your curse will be broken.”
“Forever?”
He nods again.
“And I won’t remember my past heartbreaks? They won’t hurt anymore?” I’m so over the pain, the dread of it all. That might be the best part of breaking this curse, after all: not the promise of new love, but the relief from the past disappointments.
“You won’t feel the pain of your past heartbreaks, and the first person you date after the curse is broken will be your true love.
” I furrow my brow, not really believing it.
“Same as how your magic works,” he says, and I raise an eyebrow.
“If they have pure intentions and are ready for love, they’ll find you first, and it will work out.
” I sit on that, but I can’t argue his logic.
He’s right: it’s exactly how my own magic works, after all.
And I desperately want this curse gone.
“Do you promise?” I ask, knowing a promise between a witch and a warlock is unbreakable.
“I promise, Rosemary Mayfield, on the life of my own line, that the Mayfield curse will not exist in any regard when you brew this potion for me.” His words are so specific, as if he knows I’ll look for loopholes and trip wires, and I stare at him for what feels like an eternity, his spirit floating before me, before I decide to go for it.
True love is worth the risk, after all. Right?
I nod, stepping back and grabbing my pen and notebook, writing each obscure ingredient down as he rattles them off.
“So, waxing crescent dew, hair from the most powerful man in town, the most expensive liquor from a local tavern, moonflowers collected under a full moon, tears from a vampire, a sweet exchanged in harmony… what else?” He smiles then, and I know I’m going to regret thinking this would be simple.
“And finally, I need you to get a vessel I touched when I was alive. That’s the only way I’ll be able to hold the potion and take it.”
I stop writing and glare at him. “Are you fucking kidding me? How am I supposed to—”
“Calm down, little witch. My grandson has a flask of mine. You might know him. His name is Jack Haggerty; he owns the Gaming Den.”