The bustling market smelled like melted wax and pine needles, as if someone had burned an entire shipment of holiday candles down to the wicks. I burrowed deeper into my thick, quilted coat and yanked my ski cap lower as giant snowflakes the size of feathers landed in my lashes.
I shivered, hard. My first Christmas since moving east to join the new team, and I already missed the December heat and flirty sundresses from back home. The cheesy Christmas sweaters were fun, sure, and I was about to dig into my first miracle cold case, but they couldn’t replace what I’d really lost. I was alone in a strange city, and more than anything, I missed my magic.
It was gone. Totally, irrevocably gone since the day I accidentally married Grant “the devil in a Santa hat” Delaney. I’d thought last year’s retreat would fix my glitching magic. Instead, I’d flown home without it. If faith in love had fueledmy power, then a fake marriage built on a foundation of spite and indifference had drained it dry.
For months, I’d been stewing in secrets and phony smiles, pretending everything was fine. From the outside, it looked like it was. Grant got his promotion, and I got the chance of a lifetime. I packed my bags and moved to a new city, settling into an office two doors down from my so-called husband.
Now here I was, wandering through the city’s hidden magic district, spending the last of my savings to buy a few charms to fool my coworkers into thinking I still had my meet-cute mojo.
A brass bell chimed overhead as I stepped into the entryway of the magic shop. The scent of cinnamon and melted sugar hit me like a wave. Warmth wrapped around me, along with the chatter of customers browsing the wares.
I smiled absently at a woman running her fingers along a shelf of large pillar candles while speaking into her phone about the incredible date she’d had the night before.
“Do you think he’ll call? I’m going to burn one of those candles you told me about just in case. But I’m not sure which one.”
I slowed, pointing toward a purple candle wrapped in gold foil. “Go with that one. It works its magic and burns the cleanest.”
The woman lowered her phone and mouthed ‘thank you’ before pulling it from the shelf.
The shop owner appeared from behind a velvet curtain, her wiry white hair pinned with sprigs of holly. I tugged off my hat and mittens, stuffing them in my coat pockets as I approached the counter. Along the walls, glass jars shimmered with powder, silver trinkets hummed faintly, and bundles of dried mistletoe weretied in red bows.
“What’s your poison?” she asked with a cheeky grin.
I flushed at the question, shaking my head to dispel the deep, rich sound of Grant’s voice asking me the same thing at the luau a year ago.Cyanide,then,Tequila Sunrise, and extra cherries.
I drew in a deep breath of incense, hoping it would fog my mind as easily as it did my lungs. Lately, every little thing reminded me of him, like when you notice one lime-green car and suddenly the universe is full of them.
It was a nuisance.
“I was told you carry heartstones,” I said, fumbling for my wallet and mentally counting the dollar bills inside. Hopefully, it was enough. My bank account was emptier than a punch bowl of spiked eggnog after a party, and miracle agents didn’t receive their holiday bonuses until after New Year’s.
“Ah.” She drifted toward a glass cabinet, her gauzy green skirt whispering around her ankles. “I have a few. How many do you need?”
A whole year’s worth, but I couldn’t afford that. The small ruby-red stones, shaped like hearts, acted like batteries, recharging dormant magic. But like batteries, they eventually ran out of juice. Each heartstone gave me back my magic for a week. Three would carry me through Christmas.
I forced a smile. “You’re not running a holiday discount, are you? Buy two and get the third free?”
She eyed me, gnarled fingers tapping the glass. “I’m afraid not.”
I swallowed my disappointment, knowing how pathetic I sounded. “Then just two, please.”
The old woman selected two stones from a crystal dish and dropped them into a velvet pouch. She handed them over, buther fingers clamped around my wrist before I could slip the pouch into my pocket.
She studied me with unnerving calm. “Your aura is dim. Flickering.”
Yeah, that tracked. I was a broken bulb on a string of holiday lights, blinking on and off whenever someone jostled me. Eventually, they’d toss out the whole strand.
I let out a shaky laugh. “It’s the holidays. They’re always a little rough. All the shopping, the crowded stores, the gift wrapping.” I leaned in, feeling like a marshmallow stuffed in my puffy coat. “I’m more of a gift bag girl myself. Just toss and go.”
Her fingers dug into my skin almost painfully. “You’ve lost more than your magic, haven’t you?”
My throat thickened. “How did you know?”
Her gaze softened, though her grip didn’t. “It’s not gone, child, it’s misplaced.”
“I don’t understand.”
The witch smiled thinly. “You will. Borrowed magic won’t last. Those stones can’t replace what’s buried in your heart.” Her voice dropped lower. “You’ve bound yourself to something hollow. End what’s empty, and the heart will bloom again.”
