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“Justbecause something is buried doesn’t mean it’s forgotten.Justbecause something has been hidden doesn’t mean it’s not still there.”Sheturned and walked toward an ancient looking wooden cabinet, opening one of the doors with a low creak.Thenshe turned and scrutinizedHazelover her shoulder. “Sometimeswhat we most need is a little sacred medicine.Somethingto connect us to the past and the present while allowing us to step into the future with power and confidence.”
“Yes,” saidHazel, calm settling over her as she watchedFionatake out several small bottles and bring them over to the table.Theycontained things like salt, dried rose petals, chili pepper flakes, and fragments of dried bay leaves.Sheset them all in the middle of the table, and then brought out a small empty glass vial, a bundle of sage, and an unused stick of incense.Finally, she set out a small piece of plain white paper and a blackSharpie.
Itwas fascinating and new, and yet somehow familiar, too.
“First, we cleanse ourselves,” saidFiona, retrieving a lighter from her pocket and then lighting the bundle of sage, blowing on it until it was smoldering.Shewaved the fragrant smoke over herself, over the table, and then overHazel.Itstung her eyes a little, making her blink rapidly.Sheset the still smoldering sage down in a plain black bowl and then lit the stick of incense, shoving it into the small empty vial and leaving it there until it was full of smoke. “Morecleansing,” she said when she caughtHazel’scurious gaze.Sheremoved the stick and then set it in an incense holder near the cash register.
Shesat down at the table and picked up the marker, then wrote what toHazellooked like a strangely sloped letter n. “Thisis the rune for power,” explainedFiona.Sherolled up the small piece of paper and then handed it toHazel. “Holdthis in your right hand whileIprepare the spell jar.”
Hazelleaned forward eagerly, drinking in every single thingFionadid.She’dnever been into magic or witchcraft or anything remotely new agey beyond reading her horoscope from time to time, but something about this practice resonated with her in a way nothing ever had before.
Fionapoured salt into the base of the small vial, followed by some dried rose petals and the chili flakes until it was three quarters full. “Therune,” she said simply, andHazelhanded it back to her.Sheplaced it in the center of the vial, pushing it into the chili flakes and rose petals until only a small bit of it was visible.Shefilled the rest of the jar with the flakes of bay leaves and then inserted a cork stopper.
“Oh, the candle.Ialmost forgot.”Fionajumped from her seat and returned to the cabinet, where she retrieved a slim red candle.Shelit it and then dripped red wax all over the vial’s stopper until it was covered with a thick layer.
“Doesthis really work?” askedHazelin a quiet voice.Itseemed too easy.Toosimple to really be magical.Andyet she was buzzing.Likeshe’d swallowed a hive of bees.
“Itdoes if you believe in it.It’snot the ingredients that are magical.Notby themselves.Thereal magic comes from you.”
Thewax dried quickly andFionapressed the jar intoHazel’shand.Thewax was warm but the glass was cool and smooth to the touch. “Keepthis with you at all times as your power returns.Believethat your power is returning.Believethat you’ve asked theUniversefor this, and it is already so.”
“Thankyou,Fiona,” she said, slipping the small jar into her bag. “Howmuch doIowe you?”
Fionawaved her off. “Nothing.I’malways happy to help, ifIcan.I’vedone my part.Nowyou do yours and believe in yourself,Hazel.Youcan do anything, have anything, if you’re brave enough to ask for it.”Shepatted her on the arm and then returned to her supply closet, humming cheerfully.
Hazelstepped out of the shop and walked back to the inn, feeling taller with every step.
TWENTY-TWO
Adamsatbehind his small desk in his closet-sized office at the inn, the brown leather of his worn chair creaking softly beneath his shifting weight.Hazelsat on the other side of the desk, across from him, her thumbnail caught between her teeth as she stared at her phone.Itsat in the middle of desk, the screen dark.Therewas a tension in the room, thick and palpable.Hefelt like a student who knew a fire drill was imminent.
Hazelpulled her thumb out of her mouth and picked up her mug of tea, cradling it without sipping.Shewas nervous, and truth be told, so wasAdam.
SethCollins,Hazel’seditor, had sent an email yesterday saying that he was going to “squeeze them in” to his schedule for a phone call at one o’clock today.Therewas no question about if that time worked for them, just an edict that the phone call would take place today.ItmadeAdamthink back to his own publishing experience, when his editor would sometimes go weeks without answering email, treatingAdamlike a second class citizen because if he didn’t write a book that sold, there were a hundred others waiting for the chance.He’dbeen treated as a disposable commodity, not a human being with emotions and hopes.
But, according toHazel’sagentAlex, the lunch had gone well,Sethwas intrigued, and willing to work with them on this.
Didhe want to write a book forHazel’sex-husband?Fuck, no.Hedid not.Buthe wanted to write withHazel.And, honestly, he would’ve done anythingHazelasked.He’ddo anything for her.Evenwork with her ex-husband.
“God, he’s such an ass,” she muttered, glancing at the time on her phone screen. 1:07. “Healways pulls this crap.Noone’s time is more valuable than his,” she said, rolling her eyes.Adam’schest tightened, not out of jealousy, but because he could see how much painSethhad caused her, and seeing that pain in the tense line of her mouth, the tension in her jaw, made him hurt, too.
Thephone started to ring, seeming too loud in the small, quiet room, andHazelreached for it.Hebit back a smile when he noticed that whenSeth’sname popped up on the screen, so did the poop and red flag emojis, right beside it.
“Seth, hi,” she said, putting the call on speaker. “I’mhere withAdam.”
“Great,” he said brusquely, andAdamhad the distinct impression that he was annoyed by the phone call. “So, as you know,Ihad lunch withAlexthe other day, and he pitched this whole new book co-writing thing to me.”
“And?” saidHazel, leaning forward in her seat.Adam’spulse pounded dully in his temples.God, he didn’t know if he could get back on the publishing roller coaster, even if it was withHazel.
“AndIhave my reservations,” he said wearily, sounding as though he were talking to a petulant child and not aNewYorkTimesbestselling author.Thenagain, maybe he did sound very much like a man talking to his ex-wife.
“Didyou read the pages?” she asked.They’dsentAlexeverything they’d had, including the love scene they’d stayed up late drafting after finally untangling themselves from each other.
“Afew, yeah.ObviouslyIdidn’t have time to read them all.”
“Okay, so…” saidHazel, rolling her eyes. “Thepages are good.Alexwouldn’t have shown them to you if he didn’t agree.Sowhat’s the issue?”Shesat up a little bit straighter, eyes narrowed at the phone.
Sethsighed heavily. “Well, for starters, you’re deviating from the approved outline, which is a concern.”
