Chapter 8
Valerie
The falls were beautiful, but whatever enchantment ran through the crystal-clear waters hadn’t worked on me.
My toes dangled in the current as I stared up at the majestic scene.
A curtain of white water spilled over the cliffs, and mist rose in cool ribbons that glittered like frost on a windowpane.
Droplets clung to the ferns like tiny glass ornaments strung along the rocks, and red flowers dotted among the greenery.
Leave it to our tropical island to look like a winter wonderland, baking in the sun.
A chilly gust threaded through the palms, as if the island read my thoughts. But it wasn’t snow about to fall from the gray clouds overhead. Grant’s superficial weather report from last night had been right. It was going to rain, and unease told me it was time to head back.
I’d hiked out at dawn, full of purpose, certain this ritual would fix my glitch.
But it hadn’t. I’d done exactly what the stories said, wading up to my knees in the current and whispering the spell.
Nothing happened. I still felt the same: off-balance, drained.
Not just my energy, but my faith in my magic.
The longer I stood there, the sillier I felt. Now my toes were numb, along with my heart.
“This isn’t checkmate,” I told the falls, pulling my feet out of the water and shoving them back into my shoes. “I’m not giving up. There are plenty of other things to try.”
I still had my magic, what was left of it, anyway. My enthusiasm, however? That was questionable. I didn’t have a solid backup plan. But before I'd left for this retreat, I'd jotted down the number for a twelve-day hex-detox smoothie kit I saw on a late-night infomercial.
So I could start there.
Hopefully, they had a strawberry-banana flavor. But realistically, a hex-detox probably tasted like mushrooms and vinegar.
I wrinkled my nose and dusted the dirt off my shorts. Maybe they offered a three-day concentrated emergency kit. Because with the waterfall failure, I was definitely veering into emergency territory.
Taking a sip of water and then slinging my pack over my shoulder, I eyed the trail leading back to the resort.
Grant was probably furious that I’d ditched him for breakfast, and cursing my name through the mandatory meditation circle.
Which, honestly, the word mandatory kind of defeated the appeal of meditation. But that was beside the point.
My romance-starved brain, apparently, didn’t care what the point was, because the moment I thought of Grant, last night’s near-kiss flashed like lightning behind my eyes.
If I kept them closed, I could still see the look in his eyes when he'd been a second away from kissing me. Mixed somewhere in all that fire and smoke between us, there was something else. Something that hummed with magic, not malice, and might’ve been the spark we needed, if we weren’t both so sure we’d get burned.
When was the last time I’d felt like that? Not some innocent infatuation or the warm buzz of attraction, but true intensity? Desire so strong it clouded my judgment.
I shook my head hard and forced my eyes wide open.
Oh, hell no.
I was not spiraling over a maybe-kiss, that definitely would have sucked—obviously—with the man who had a Valerie Spellman is the Worst checklist.
My teeth sank into my bottom lip.
I did love a good checklist, though.
No. Focus! I already had my excuse lined up for missing this morning's activities: food poisoning.
If I left now, I could still make it back in time for our bowling challenge to rise from my fictional, spoiled-shrimp ashes and lead our team to victory. Maybe I'd score a few more points with the board while I was at it.
I took my first step toward the trail, only to freeze when something tickled my shoulder.
My head turned slowly, like I was the next victim in a horror movie about to face the monster—and what a monster it was.
A beetle the size of a peppermint candy clung to my skin like it had hitched a ride back to the resort.
“Nope!” I yelped, hopping in a circle, arms flailing as I tried to shake it off without actually touching it. The beetle held on through my screeches and frantic aerobics, and for a split second, I considered throwing myself into the falls.
Bad idea. But try telling my bug-phobic brain that.
I doubled over, wildly wiping my shoulders and raking my fingers through my hair. Dear God, don’t let it be in my hair.
Finally, the beetle plopped to the forest floor and scurried under a leaf. My knees buckled with relief, and I let out a shaky laugh.
“Congratulations, Grant,” I said, checking for more insects. “You called it. I am officially the girl who freaks out over beetles.”
At least I didn't throw myself into a gorge. He'd probably shake his head and say, 'I told her so,' while they identified my body.
When I was satisfied I'd removed all the creepy-crawly trespassers, I straightened and spotted something glittering near the tree line. I almost sacrificed whatever it was to the jungle until I recognized the golden heart shape.
My lucky earring.
It must have come loose during bug-gate.
The pair had seen me through every high and low.
They were a gift from my parents before they died, along with a promise that the hearts would always guide me toward love.
I couldn’t lose them now when I was so far off love's path that a satellite in space couldn't find me.
The little gold charm seemed to wink at me from a patch of moss just out of reach. I crouched, stretching… I almost had it.
And my foot slid.
The moss gave way beneath me, and suddenly I was skidding down the slope, dirt and loose rocks tumbling with me. I landed hard at the bottom, my pack thumping against my shoulder. The air left my lungs in a giant whoosh.
Pain shot up my ankle when I rolled and tried to stand, forcing me back down into the mud. I pressed my fingers into the bruised skin and winced. Not broken, but definitely twisted.
I stared up at the bank and groaned. The climb looked twice as steep from down here, the slick earth taunting me, knowing I’d never make it back up on my own.
“Great,” I said aloud to the empty ravine. “I survived the beetle and fell into a gorge anyway. Nobody tell Grant.”
***
I belted the chorus to Deck the Halls, freezing rain pelting the pack over my head, making it the world’s saddest umbrella. I’d already worked my way through half the carols I knew. But unlike a fairy tale princess, no woodland animals had shown up to my rescue.
My arms trembled, and I dropped the pack, hugging it to my chest. I leaned against the slippery embankment, letting the rain wash over me, soaking what was already drenched. The phone in my pocket was a useless brick, and my ankle throbbed like it had its own heartbeat.
I wasn't going anywhere, either. The climb out was slicker than a bobsled track. I’d tried twice, sliding back down each time. My hair stuck to my face, mud streaked my knees, and the absurdity of it all just hit me.
This was not how my big magic reset was supposed to go. Sunbelt’s witchy meet-cute maker wasn’t supposed to die single and soulmate-less, in a muddy hole in the middle of the jungle, while singing off-key Christmas carols to the snakes.
It was too tragic for words.
But I was overreacting. I wasn’t going to die and end up a cautionary tale in a survivalist documentary about the importance of bug spray. I had water and a stash of granola swiped from the breakfast buffet. Sage knew where I’d gone. When I didn’t return on time, she’d send help.
All I had to do was stay put so the rescuers could find me. They’d send a team into the storm like survivalist heroes, wouldn’t they?
No, of course not. They’d wait until the storm passed. Safety first, as they should.
Which meant I was stuck. All night, maybe.
I should’ve asked Grant more about the weather instead of accusing him of making small talk. He’d probably had a whole Doppler monologue queued up. Was the storm passing through, or settling over the island for days? Was it monsoon season? I dropped my head into my hands and let a tired sob escape.
Swiping at my wet cheeks didn’t matter; who knew what was rain and what was tears? Everything was wet, and so cold I was convinced I’d be the first tourist to get hypothermia in the tropics. With a grumble, I went back to my carols—putting the Fa back into the La as loud as I could.
“Valerie! Where are you?”
My head snapped up. For a second, I thought I was hallucinating Grant’s voice. Except he didn’t usually sound so hoarse… or so worried.
“Down here!” I called back, recoiling when I put weight on my ankle.
A moment later, his face appeared over the edge of the ravine. Rain had plastered his hair to his forehead. He looked storm-wrecked, lightning flashing behind him like he was the Boogeyman and not a savior in a teal raincoat. I laughed, certain I was delirious, which only made his features harden.
“This isn’t funny, Spells! I’m planning to murder you after I get you back up here.” He scanned the slope, searching for handholds.
“I know. You look like a monster with that lightning behind you. I’d run, but I twisted my ankle.”
He muttered something lost to the wind and found a thick root near the top, then swung himself down. His boots skidded on the wet earth, sending a spray of mud toward me.
Halfway down, the root tore loose with a wet crack. Grant’s hand slammed hard against the rock face before he caught himself on another root. He hissed between his teeth, pain slashing across his features as his bruised knuckles held his weight.
“Grant!” I scrambled closer, my heart jumping into my throat. “Are you—?”
“I’m fine,” he shouted over the wind, flexing his hand once before gripping the next branch. “Don’t move. I’m almost there.”