Page 51 of A Witch's Guide to Surviving Halloween
Lucy pushes the book back toward me with a harsh glare. “We figure out a way to solve the riddle on our own.”
My frustration rises by the second, because this is what we’ve been looking for. This is how we can get all the answers we need.
“We’ve tried that already, Luce. Not only have we tried that, but we’ve tried two different tried-and-true methods to break it, and it’s only managed to backfire spectacularly. Tonight is our only chance. ‘On the night the veil between here and the other side is at its thinnest.’ That’s tonight, that’s right now.”
I run to the front door and flip the sign to CLOSED, making sure there’s no customers still in the store before grabbing the book off the counter and storming toward the back room.
Lucy is right on my heel. “Amelia, stop!”
I whirl on her, holding the book close to my chest. Tears are already starting to well once again, and I have to choke them down.
“No!” I yell at her, voice rising loud enough to stop her in her tracks. “I’m so tired of everyone telling me what I should and shouldn’t do. Of everyone thinking they know what’s best for me.”
“And you think this is what’s best for you?” She points an accusatory finger at the book still clutched tight in my arms. “Sacrificing a piece of your future? When the magic is already going crazy? Youreallythink that is the right thing to do?”
I close my eyes, and I can hear Grandma’s voice reach out to me from the past.
“Girls, I usually believe in enjoying magic and honoring everything our ancestors fought for and passed down to us. But you must listen: Never, ever touch this spell. Do you understand? Magic requires balance, and to reach into the past, you must first sacrifice a piece of your future, and I promise you, it’s not worth it.”
A tear tracks down my cheek, dripping from my chin in a single salty drop.
“Yes,” I decide. Even though the words are quiet, they don’t invite any more questions; my mind is made up. “Yes, this is what I need to do.”
Lucy’s face falls, and after a long, unbearably loud pause, she nods. “Okay. What do you need?”
“What do you mean?”
She swallows hard. “The spell. What do you need? What do I need to grab?”
It takes me a moment to process what she’s saying, but the moment I do, I jump into action. I lay out the book on one of the cluttered counters and run a finger down the page, truly reading the spell for the first time.
“First, we need something of Grandma’s. Something personal. Something we can burn.”
Fingers tapping against the counter, Lucy and I glance around in turn before she jumps up and runs out to the sales floor and returns in the blink of an eye. In her hand is Grandma’s old diary.
She throws it down on the counter. “Nothing more personal than this, and I think we can both agree it’ll feel good to watch it burn. What else?”
“Five candles, a burning bowl of cedar chips and moon-soaked salt, matches, and a piece of paper to . . .” My finger hovers beneath the words on the page, but I can’t bring myself to say them around the lump in my throat.
The written name of the future willingly sacrificed.
Lucy nods, a determined glint in her green eyes. “Okay. I’ll grab the candles and the paper if you get the rest?”
Silently, I agree.
It takes us a few minutes to gather everything. Before my phone can blow up with more texts from Stacy, we’ve arranged the candles in the shape of a pentagram and placed the burning bowl in the center, filled with the cedar chips and salt.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt, looking over the setup one more time, ensuring everything’s in place.
“I think that’s everything. I guess . . . all that’s left is to start. Do you have the paper?”
Lucy refuses to meet my gaze as she pulls the folded piece of paper from her pocket and hands it to me with shaky fingers. When I take it, she crosses her arms tightly across her torso, holding her middle tight. Her eyes never leave the paper as I pull out a pen and unfold it to write my name down, only to realize it isn’t blank. I freeze, reading the name over and over again until it blurs together.
Lucy Graves
My mouth falls open, and it takes several thunderous heartbeats for me to find anything to say. “No,” I whisper with disbelief. “Luce, you can’t.”
She shifts on her feet, rolling on the edges of her boots as she stares at the floor. “It’s willingly given.”
