Page 85 of Strike It Witch

Three o’clock rolled around fast. I’d finished the salt, crafted a few charms, and spent time soaking up the energy of growingthings. Joon tapped on the window above my workstation while I was tidying up, and I invited him inside. He was wearing the clothing he’d worn earlier, but he was barefoot.

“I’ve been walking the property,” he said.

“And?”

“My walk was … unsettling. May I show you something?” He gestured for me to follow him. His eyes were downcast, his tone serious.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” He led me to Red’s grave. Placed his hand over the spot as if testing to see if an electric burner was on. “There’s power here. A lot of it.”

“Makes sense. It’s the grave of a hundred-year-old saguaro.” I said it lightly, but, except for when I’d cast the protection spell, I hadn’t felt anything here since Red died, and I was angry and more than a little jealous that Joon could.

“I tried to connect with it.” He knelt beside the rocks. “It rejected me.”

An odd combination of relief and fear went through me. I was reassured to not be the only one the soil rejected and scared Joon would leave. “But the grass grew for you. It responded.”

“The thing is, I don’t believe it did respond—not in any real sense. The grass wanted to be green in that one spot, and I gave it some help, is all.” He scooped up a handful of soil and sifted it between his long, thin fingers. The rest he poured into a pouch, presumably to work with in private. “The earth here is deeply injured, and I’m not sure I can heal it.”

Damn. I’d so hoped the soil would accept him. I plopped down cross-legged on the other side of Red’s ring. “You’ve only been here a few hours. Could you at least give it a few days?”

“I don’t see that it will change anything, but I’ll try.” He stood, dusted off his hands. “At the very least, I’d like to help you with the spell tonight.”

“You don’t have to do that. It’s a pretty straightforward summoning spell. I’m familiar with the demon.”

“Have you summoned it before?”

“Actually, no. The first time we met, he was loose in the world. I trapped him and booted him back to Limbo. The second time, someone else summoned him. He was pretending to be Mictlantecuhtli.”

Joon shook his head. “To gain power from worship, I presume. Demons are as transparent as they are stupid.”

“The lower caste, maybe,” I said, thinking of Sexton. “Not all of them.”

He tucked the pouch and one hand into the front pocket of his trousers. “No, not all.”

“I took care of his burgeoning ‘Aztec god of death’ cult. So all is well on that front.”

“Sounds like you have a good grip on the magical world here.” He gave me a soft, friendly smile. “Why do you want to leave so badly?”

“I have my reasons,” I said, because he seemed to be waiting for a response and I wasn’t going to tell him that living on soil that hated me was killing my magic.

Joon was great, but I didn’t know him well enough yet to trust him with something I hadn’t even explained to my best friend. Not to mention, it was never a good idea to let other magicals know your weakness.

I cleared my throat to indicate the subject was closed. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like, Joon, whether you decide to take over the park or not. The Siete Saguaros likes guests, and it’s nice having another earth magical around.”

“Yeah, it is.” He smiled, brown eyes sparkling, and I could see why Ida had immediately fallen for him. “I wish it would’ve worked out, Betty. I like it here.”

“Even though Ida keeps trying to get you to sing her favorite K-pop songs with her?” I teased.

“She’s a character. I like characters.” He smiled but then quickly grew serious. “I’ve always wanted a staying place like this. You’ve got an amazing home here, Betty.”

We sat in silence for a couple minutes before he excused himself and left me alone, replaying his question in my head.

“Why do you want to leave so badly?”

“I don’t want to leave,” I whispered to Red’s grave. “I’veneverwanted to leave. If I’d had my way, I would never have taken over Mom’s route, never gone out on my own, never even bought a travel trailer at all. If it were up to me, I’d still be living in the bedroom at the back of Mom’s house, surrounded by my herbs … and thriving.”

An hour before midnight,I hauled a bag of my salt and rosemary mix to the parking lot. I’d raked the gravel at the far end of the lot into a pile after dinner to give myself a flat, five-by-five-foot dirt surface to work with.

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