Page 40 of A Spell for Midwinter's Heart
The grimoire in her lap slammed shut, startling her out of the spiral. Wind swept through the window and hit her in the face in a shock of cold. She stared at the intricate face of the Green Man and pressed her fingers into the lined leather of the book’s cover.
Maybeshewas too small, but she wasn’t alone. She picked up her phone, summoning Zaide’s contact card.
Zaide,she typed.I need your help.
17
December 23
The Third Day of Yule
Dawn lightened the matte black of the morning sky to a velvety blue through massive picture windows in the common room at the Crescent Inn and Spa. A massive stuffed grizzly bear, the hotel’s mascot, sported a slouching Santa hat while a silvery tree glittered in the corner, its base stacked with presents wrapped in festive paper, identical green tags taped to their tops. It seemed the Haks were still running their annual gift drive for families in need.
Rowan let out an indelicate yawn and chased it with a swill of harsh coffee from the complimentary carafe at the hotel entrance. She’d slept little and rested even less. Zaide had been awake when she’d fired off her SOS, and they’d stayed up chatting well into the night, until the details settled into place.
From the initial proposal of “Devise a scheme to trap me in a room with Hayleigh??? Tampering with door handles or something?” Zaide had quickly gotten them to “Or instead ofHome Alonehijinks, we get you both naked at the spa and let my aunties scrub the shit out of you. She won’t be going anywhere—trust me.”
The Korean-style spa at the Crescent featured a large open room with hot tubs at multiple temperatures, behind which clients received body scrubs on a row of beds set up in a communal area. Assuming Hayleigh took the bait, Rowan would cast the truth spell and question her from the next bed over, and hopefully get her talking about what the Goshen Group had in store for Elk Ridge.
Hopefully.
“Special delivery!”
Clop.A glossy black hairbrush stamped with gold lettering landed in Rowan’s lap. Its bristles were tangled with strands of pale blond hair—this was Hayleigh’s hairbrush.
“How did you get this?” asked Rowan.
“She went out for a run. I borrowed a control key.” Zaide slid into an overstuffed chair in front of the fire at the Crescent Inn, across from where Rowan had been drinking her coffee. Her black-booted feet came to dangle over one arm, landing against the damask upholstery in a series of gentle thuds.
“Ahjin!” Across the room, Mr. Hak looked up from where he was going over paperwork behind the main desk, giving her a withering look as he called her by her Korean name.
“Sorry, Appa.” She swung around to right herself with an apologetic smile, landing crisscross applesauce so that her feet came to rest inside the chair still. Though he let out a grunt, he said no more. Her father had long since accepted there was no sitting up straight with her—nor doing much of anything straight, for that matter.
“Morning, Mr. Hak!” called Rowan. She realized after she said it that she had long since gotten old enough to call friends’ parents by their given names—Hwan, in his case—but old habits died hard.
The older man’s face crinkled with good humor as he grinned back. “Good morning, Rowan. Don’t torment my customers toomuch, hmm?” Then he gave a wave and disappeared into the bowels of the inn.
“How did you get him to agree to help with this?”
Zaide let out a long groan. “I’m sure this won’t come as a surprise, but she has been the literal worst. Imagine all the ways she’s treated you, then add the ‘interacting with immigrants who she thinks are here to serve her’ factor on top of that. My family left South Korea during the dictatorship—my dad doesn’t suffer fools.”
“Brilliant,” said Rowan with a grin. Her fingers worked to unwind hair from the black bristles, grimacing. “Goddess, I wish this weren’t necessary.”
“I mean, it isn’t totally, but if you want to make sure she tells you the truth, instead of just speaking in Latin or something…”
“I know, I know.” The less control she exerted over the spell via careful ritual and reagents, the more likely the chances it would “work, but not as intended.” And she needed this to work as intended. Rowan shivered one last time as she finished winding the hair in a ring around her finger, where it would remain until it was time to cast the spell.
“Well, the voucher’s under her door,” said Zaide. “So now we play the waiting game.”
“You’re sure there are two openings at the spa this morning?” asked Rowan, fidgeting with the crystal in her pocket.
“Yep, last-minute cancellations. Plus, a little clever rescheduling.”
Rowan cleared her throat and asked, “And the other thing?”
“She spent the night alone. Your boy’s modesty is intact.”
The answer to the question shouldn’t have mattered, but Rowan’s back muscles still loosened all the same.
