Page 2 of Three's A Wrap
Someone somewhere better be getting a laugh out of this.
“Oh yeah. I remember seeing that a few times in the storeroom. Is there an inscription anywhere on it?” Mum finally says, reminding me she’s on speaker on the floor.
“No, I already told you. I didn’t notice any strange markings at all, and there’s no inscriptions. Nothing to identify its maker or magic,” I reply, turning it towards the light filtering through the shop window.
“Did you try to do magic again? You can tell me if you did.”
I wince. I’d scried one more time, but I can’t see how that would cause this.
On every witch’s eighteenth birthday, a scrying spell is performed to locate their mate. The spell is a simple, harmless one, and more than one witch without magic has been able to locate their mate on strong magical nights. Most witches find their one true love after their third attempt at the magic.
Yesterday marks thethirteenthtime I’ve scried for a mate, since my eighteenth birthday almost a decade ago now.
“Yesterday. I tried yesterday,” I murmur.
At the reminder of my magical failings and presumed forever single status, I tug at the hem of my black get-witchy-with-it shirt and pull my knees to my chest in the chair. My socked feet indent the soft brown leather.
I’ve had lots of magical mishaps over the years, accidentally summoning a demon only being one of them, but never have had an inanimate object adhere itself to me like this.
I had admired it more than once and thought it was really pretty, until it magically seized itself to my arm. It rose from a box while I searched for Halloween decor in the back room, attacking me and fastening itself to me before I knew what was happening. I guess I should really be used to this kind of mess by now.
“I’m so sorry my love,” my mum says in that soothing motherly way.
I sigh, and the old desk chair squeaks when I glance out the window, noticing a group of costumed passersby. At least I managed to get the closed sign up before a bunch of trick-or-treaters showed up wanting candy. It’s really popular here in the city, especially with teenagers and happy nightclubbers.
My arm throbs painfully as the bracelet tightens down a bit. I shake my hand out, flexing it this way and that.
I swipe up my phone from the floor and hold it to my mouth. “It’s getting tighter.”
“Delores will fix it.”
“Ugh. Don’t you have anything that can help?” I reply, pulling at the bracelet again.
“Your cousin will sort it all out in no time.”
“But—”
“After she leaves, call me. I love you,” Mum says. The line goes dead.
Ugh, okay.
Don’t panic, Chloe. No big deal.
I can handle Delores long enough to get this stupid thing off my arm, right?
Chapter 2
Chloe Landry
Twenty minutes later, and I’m realizing I may have spoken too soon.
“I can’t help unless you tell me what you did. Magical objects don’t just do this without prompting,” Delores says, her lip curling in disgust as she stares down at the bracelet on my arm.
The chair squeaks as I roll from the desk towards her, waving my arm helplessly.
“I didn’t prompt anything, and what do you mean you can’t help? ComeonDelores, you’re the best, remember?” I remind her, knowing there’s nothing that will get my egotistical cousin going more than being told she’s the best at everything.
She tuts her lips and shakes her head, making her dark hair shimmer in the light. As she backs away from where I sit at the shop table, I take in her outfit: a light pink skirt covered with tiny witches, a pink-and-white shirt, and matching pink heels. Every piece screams “look at me,” as if the universe might forget her for five seconds.
