Page 3 of Meet Cute Magic

I cut myself off, shake my head, and take a deep breath, clearing my mind of the negative thoughts and replacing them with more pleasant and positive ones.

I am the maker of my own destiny, I remind myself. I am going to break this motherfucking curse if it kills me.

“Hey, Jack,” I say to my grumpy neighbor across the way as I approach my teal-painted bookstore with my apartment on top. I’m out of breath, eager to get home and begin my plan before I lose steam. Still, I pause to take in his new window display. Jack Haggerty owns the Gaming Den, directly across the narrow cobblestone road from Meet Cute Magic, but it has the complete opposite aesthetic. Where I’ve painted the facade of my building, added fairy lights along every surface, and constantly change my festive window displays to fit my mood or the season, Jack’s gaming store is painted a dark gray with green accents, and he rarely changes his front window decor.

He sells video games and whatever accessories go with that, as well as various collectibles and trading card games, all things I know absolutely nothing about. The new display features a black backdrop with a cut-out image of a wizard pointing a wand at the ceiling, accompanied by a swirl of gray spelling out “Check out our new arrivals!” with a few video games lined up below on a seemingly floating shelf.

Jack stares at me as he closes his mailbox out front, a bundle of envelopes in his hands. “Your display looks super cute!” I say. His jaw goes tight as he slides his dark-rimmed glasses up his nose before pushing his messy chocolate-brown hair back and crossing his arms.

“This isn’t cute. This is the Third Warlock of the Night Realm.” I give him wide eyes and fight the urge to ask who that is.

I’ve never met anyone who is as easily riled as Jack Haggerty, and to be honest I love nothing more than watching his face get all red and annoyed. Fortunately for him, tonight I’m on a mission, so I can’t devote any additional time to annoying him.

Maybe tomorrow.

“Whatever you say, Jack Attack. Have a great night!” I say with an exuberant wave.

“It’s just Jack,” he grumbles to my back, but I’m already at the store and opening my front door, shutting it behind me.

Nothing ever happens in sleepy Heartwood Hollow, so I don’t normally lock my doors, but tonight, I don’t want to risk anyone interrupting me. When the door slams behind me, I lock both the deadbolt and the chain before murmuring a locking spell to keep my sisters out, turning the lights off in my bookstore and moving upstairs to my small apartment to begin.

CHAPTER 2

Rosie

50 days until Halloween

I​’m not sure if pink Himalayan salt is the right choice for a salt circle, but I’m really hoping it is. If not, I’ve just wasted a full forty dollars’ worth of salt.

After finishing my circle and setting up the candles using the specific sequence my mom taught my sisters and me long ago, I light each candle, thinking only of my goal and whom I want to speak with.

The warlock who put a curse on the Mayfields. I need to break the—

“Meow,” Percy, my annoying fluffy cat, says. I didn’t really choose him as a pet; one day, he followed me home and hasn’t left my side since. It’s truly a toss-up if he’ll stay home when I leave the house or if he’ll follow me around town. He’s a good cat, though, and if I go into a place that doesn’t allow pets, he’ll sit outside, waiting for me to be done.

“Shut up, Percy,” I grumble, opening one eye to glare at him. “I’m trying to find you a dad.” Percy glares as if to say, You dumbass, I’m a cat, I don’t need a dad, but eventually, he turns around, tail lifted high to show me his asshole before he makes his way downstairs, probably to knock some books off a shelf as punishment for my attitude.

I return to the task at hand, focusing on whom I want to summon. The warlock who put a curse on the Mayfields, I think over and over. I want to find my true love. I need to break the curse. I don’t want to feel the pain of heartbreak anymore.

When the fifth and final candle is lit, I move the smoldering bowl of herbs, spices, and dried flowers I prepared and sit on the floor before it, taking a deep breath. Finally, I open the large, leather-bound grimoire my mom helped me create at the age of eight when my powers first started to appear.

Flipping through, I find the page I’m looking for: How to communicate with the dead.

There’s a note written in the margins in my mom’s handwriting: For emergencies only! And even then, NEVER perform this alone. Ghosts are tricky and always looking for loopholes!

I shrug, ignoring her warning. How much worse can things get? I’m doomed to a life of loneliness as it is. From what my mother told me, the spell was put on my grandmother by a jealous warlock, cursing the entire line of Mayfields to have their hearts broken over and over after they tell a partner they love them. My grandmother was left with two daughters when my grandfather walked out on them, and my own father passed when I was barely five, leaving my mother with my two sisters and me.

I refuse to face the same fate.

I want a happily ever after, this stupid curse be damned.

And tonight, I’m finally brave enough—or desperate, depending on how you look at it—to make it happen.

The spell is simple: once the setup is complete, just repeat the name of the person I’m trying to contact until they appear.

“The person who cursed the Mayfields. The key to breaking the curse,” I repeat over and over, and even though I don’t have the exact name, I feel it after a moment: the chill washing over me, the lights flickering on the candles, the creaking of the old floorboards. I continue speaking. “I want to fall in love. Bring me the person who will help break my curse so I can find my true love.” The candle directly in front of me snuffs out, sending my pulse skyrocketing, the other four remaining lit, and then a form is there in its place: an elderly man with a wide smile, only half of him formed, his bottom half coming together in a point as he floats a few feet above the ground.

If I hadn’t watched my grandmother summon ghosts when I was a child to kindly ask them to stop haunting people’s homes, cars, or couches, I might have been nervous or shocked. Instead, I smile at him.