Page 3 of Three's A Wrap
“Iamthe best,” she says with a roll of her dark brown eyes.
Delores is only a couple months older than me, and we look closer to sisters than cousins. We both have the classic Landryeyes, dark slashing brows, and even the same chocolate hair color. That’s where our similarities end.
Even her hair acts like she’s a real witch and behaves as it should. Meanwhile, mine is dry and frizzy, unable to be straightened, and cut short to my shoulders because it has a mind of its own and has for as long as I can remember.
It’s unfair, made worse since Delores has always reveled that she got her powers before me, the lucky ass.
“Can’t you just perform a protection spell and figure out who made it? That’s what Grandma Lu said to do.”
“Oh, so now you’re an expert on magic, are you?”
I swing my gaze to her and want to scoff at her snooty expression. “You know I don’t have magic; you’ve rubbed it in my face often enough. I swear it’s getting tighter. Just help me, please,” I plead, laying it on thicker than I really want to.
Agitation rolls through me as she tilts her head and scrunches her pert nose at the sight of the bracelet. She hasn’t offered to touch it yet, not that I blame her, but my arm is starting to really fucking hurt. I can feel myself about to lose it.
The only other option I have is to call the Witch hotline, something I really don’t want to have to do on tonight of all nights. Halloween is always the worst night for human mishaps and accidents, not to mention anyone who doesn’t know how to properly manage and manifest magic.
She taps one pink manicured nail on her chin. “Okay, fine. Let’s do this, but you owe me one.”
I watch as she reaches for the box she brought and starts setting random objects on the table before me.
Oh man, how did this even happen?
Today started out pretty great, all things considered. I woke up determined to face the day down no matter what, the water for my shower hot for once. Even the old coffee machine worked this morning, something that’s usually hit or miss. I’ve alsopassed by the old box containing the bracelet too many times to count. For whatever reason, it chose today to attack.
“Have you performed any spells lately?” she asks, pulling me from my musings.
I purse my lips. It’s a routine question in the witch world, but not something I want to share, at least not with Delores. Probably because the moment her magic emerged, she discovered she was mated to Clint Campbell, a powerful warlock in the area. The fact that I’ve never been given any indication I had a mate waiting is embarrassing enough without having to acknowledge it.
“I know you don’t have magic, but I still have to ask,” she says, picking up a quartz crystal.
I get to my feet and glance down at the large map she’s placed on the gift-wrapping table.
“I scried for my mate yesterday,” I admit, a bit shocked when her brows come together in a pitying expression.
“Alright. We’ll do that first then,” she states, placing the crystal back down and clapping.
My stomach dips. “Do what first?”
A genuine smile spreads across her lips.
“The scrying spell, silly.” She waves me closer, sprinkling salt around the table. “Come on, I’ll do the protection circle first, we can locate your mate and then try to find the owner of the bracelet.”
“What? No,” I answer, queasiness and not a small dose of alarm slamming into my middle. Mum and Grandma have tried before and it never worked, getting my hopes up only to be crushed again.
“Yes! It’ll only take two seconds to scry for a mate, if it works. The bracelet owner will take longer.” She holds her hand out and wiggles her fingers towards mine that aren’t encased in metal. “Now, give me your hand.”
I sigh heavily, fully recognizing that I’m not going to get the band off my wrist without going along with her idea first.
“Fine, but then you work out how to get this thing off. There’s no freaking telling what it’s been embedded with, and I don’t want to end up looking like that one guy from the Mummy,” I whisper, images of a flesh-eaten, skeletal arm running through my mind.
I’ve known more than one witch to fall victim to a cursed piece of jewelry. Sometimes the stories aren’t exaggerating.
“It’s never like what’s in the movies. Now, be quiet. I need to concentrate,” Delores snaps.
I can’t stop my eye roll and try to stand still while she works her magic.
“I call upon my guides and ancestors to help me see clearly. May I receive clear and accurate visions for Chloe Georgina Landry.” She shuts her eyes tightly as she drops a chain with a tiny crystal attached from her fingers.
