Halfway Hexed by Kimberly Frost Page B

had to do was to come up with some brilliant plan to get them not to cancel each other out so much.
    “Should I try a spell here?” I asked Mercutio. “It’s only divination . . . a passive kind of spell. Nothing that’ll send magic spiraling out into the neighborhood to affect other people. At least, I don’t think it could.”
    Mercutio put his paw on the book, tapping it.
    I smiled. “Come on then.”
    Downstairs, I found a jar of tart apples in honey that I’d canned myself. I opened them and ate several, the sweet and tart fruit sliding down my throat.
    “Yum.”
    Merc licked my fingertips, but I don’t think he likes honey as much as I do. Well, probably hardly anyone does.
    I collected two pairs of candles, a box of matches, and the brooch. I took off my socks and shoes and went into the yard. I positioned the tallest candle at true north and then set the other three at east, west, and south. Mercutio sat next to me in the center of the candles, and I propped the brooch up against the north candle. I lit the wicks and then dug my toes and the fingertips of my left hand into the dirt.
    I stared at the dancing flames. My gaze fixed itself, unblinking, until I seemed to get sucked into the light. I saw my childhood self near the Corsic Creek Bridge with Zach. We were small. Only eight. It was our first kiss.
    And then a swirl of things. On my bike. On a tire swing. Bryn walking down the corridor of the fancy hotel in Dallas where I’d first talked to him. A smile curved my lips. I’d been in awe of him back then, had never dreamed we’d become friends. Never dreamed of a lot of things.
    Then I saw myself in a pale gold dress that I’d never worn, my hair upswept. My mouth went dry as I watched myself walk down an aisle, a creamy bouquet of flowers in my clasped hands. Someone waited. Waited for me to come and marry him? Who? My heart pounded and I felt slightly sick. I was afraid of seeing my own future.
    I stretched a trembling fingertip to the brooch and stared at the flame. The scene changed and the beautiful dark-haired woman was there. This time she faced me. She flung her hand, as though casting a spell. A rush of fragmented images, running, falling, cobbles. Blood! The flame shot unnaturally high, and I jerked, falling out of the vision trance as I knocked over the candle with my foot. Merc yowled. He smacked out the flame of the fallen candle as I tried to catch my breath.
    “It was all mixed up. I couldn’t tell what was happening.”
    I rubbed my arms and glanced at the house on the property behind ours where the local judge and his family lived. They’d spied on me before, and their lights were on now. I was pretty sure the lights hadn’t been on before I’d started the spell.
    “We need to go,” I said.
    With a still-pounding heart, I blew out the other candles and collected everything. Inside, I dropped the candles and matches on the kitchen counter and put the brooch carefully into its box. I wiped the dirt from my feet quickly with a damp paper towel and washed my hands.
    “Okay,” I said, grabbing the brooch box and the spellbook. “We’ll go to Bryn’s. We’ll be safe there, and maybe I can sneak a few books from his library that’ll give me more control over looking into the brooch.”

    On the drive to Bryn’s, I saw George’s mail van. I slowed down and waved to him out my window.
    “Morning,” he said.
    “George, I need to stop my mail. I’m not going to stay at Zach Sutton’s house after all. Can you hold my mail and then I’ll pick it up from you?”
    “Where will you be staying?”
    “I’m not entirely sure yet. I’m in a bit of spot. Would it be okay for me to get it directly from you?”
    “I always keep to my schedule.” He glanced at the clock on his dash. “I start my route by five a.m. on Saturdays, so people’s mail is waiting for them when they wake up. Otherwise, they go out and don’t open it until Saturday afternoon or night or��Sunday