Page 97 of Rewitched

He sighed and chucked his apple core into the bin as he stood up. “Can’t a man enjoy Spider-Man in peace anymore?”

“Not when I’ve seen that he’s got two entire boxes of delivery to fit onto the fiction shelves before he should be clocking off,” Vi responded. She prodded him in the back with her stick as he left, and he pretended to stumble spectacularly to earn a cheap laugh. It always worked with Vi.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Violet asked, tapping the numbers on the fax machine to make it clear that she was far too busy and important for this conversation.

“You know I wouldn’t have ignored your messages on purpose. I got called away and have had a week like you wouldn’t believe.” Belle sighed, tidying up a small stack of proof copies by instinct. “But that’s no excuse. I’m so sorry. And I totally understand if the offer doesn’t stand anymore.”

Violet turned with a neat, smug smile. “There is no longer an offer, Belle.”

Belle’s face fell.

It was over. The dream had slipped away once and for all. How could she have dared to think that it wouldn’t?

But there was a glint in Violet’s pale eyes. “There’s no offer because it’s confirmed. Lunar Books is yours.”

Belle’s hand flew to her heart. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. This is instruction to my lawyer to begin the process, in fact.” She gestured to the fax. “It’ll take a while to deal with the legalities, but I’m ready to pass this place on to someone who I know truly loves and cares for it, who has the time and energy to keep hold of its charm in this mad modern world.”

Belle’s grin momentarily turned to a frown. “And…what about Christopher?”

“Thanks to your venerable colleagues out there, who finally decided after you walked out that honesty would indeed be the best policy, rather than your well-intentioned-but-ridiculous approach of trying to save me from the truth, I am now well aware that my son is not that someone. We have had words. I’m cutting him off, so it’s up to him to support his own ridiculous lifestyle. And I can’t believe he didn’t like the fabulous window display. The fabulous window display stays.”

Belle couldn’t help but let out a disbelieving laugh. “I tried to tell you…”

“Well, you should have tried harder. But I was wrong to blindly believe that he knew what was best. I should have remembered that, as it always has, almost all of the magic of Lunar comes from you.”

Belle grinned. “We’re really doing this?”

“I’ve known you for long enough, Belle. I know by now that you wouldn’t ignore me on purpose. I know this place is a part of you. I know your heart.”

“I won’t let you down, Vi.”

“I know you won’t, sweetheart.”

Violet left Belle with a file of dense documents and insisted that she at least take a peek at them before she left. Violet herself couldn’t stay. She had her monthly women’s meeting, which Belle had never really known too much about, other than the fact that a selection of elderly wealthy women all seemed to enjoy getting together to moan about their elderly wealthy husbands, and it drove Violet up the wall because they were all so dull.

Now wasn’t the time for important legal documents, hefty paragraphs about deeds and ownership and freeholds and leaseholds. But she jotted a pen across one or two, slid a highlighter over a couple of paragraphs so that Violet would see that she’d given it a try. Hopefully it would seem as though she’d been distracted by the shop floor instead. Her mind was entirely elsewhere. Although utterly relieved that she hadn’t lost her chance of owning her own little bookshop, now all Belle could focus on was what lay ahead.

Halloween night was about to begin.

She pulled a pink highlighter across something or other about damp proofing that looked important, but her attention was snatched to the bottom of the page. A line appeared like a footnote, the letters forming by themselves, and soon turned into words handwritten in black ink. They glowed as she read before vanishing again like puffs of smoke.

Queens Wood oak circle. See you all at 6 p.m. Don’t forget uniforms.

Rune.

Belle had seen pictures of Queens Wood before, with its otherworldly clearing of trees right at its centre, the space surrounded by oaks in an almost perfect circle that mirrored the Hecate House atrium.

Belle glanced at the clock on the back wall. Twenty minutes to six. Typical Rune to give a moment’s notice. She’d have to sprint home, grab her cloak and hat, jump on a train almost immediately…

Unless she risked it. Unless she believed in herself enough to knit a successful transference spell for the first time. Daring to believe it set off an unconscious flare of sparks at the end of her finger. As Artorius had reminded her numerous times, what was the best that could happen?

Belle headed out of Lunar, giving the front door a tap for luck as she left, as though reassuring the shop—her shop—that she’d be back soon.

The high street buzzed in the evening glow with throngs of parents and children dressed up in handmade Halloween costumes. She spotted adorably hilarious vampire collars sticking out at all angles, a trail of toilet paper spilling from a miniature mummy and, best of all, throngs of witches in the early stages of girlhood, all in their best capes and hats, celebrating their own pull towards the magical. They clutched at small brooms, carried little cauldrons and beamed sticky smiles as they skipped along hand in hand.

Belle slipped around the same corner that she’d dragged Bronwyn to all those moons ago when she’d arrived to share the news about the mentorship. Bronwyn, who had seemed so kind thirty moons back, with the best, most selfless of intentions. Belle prickled, trying to grant herself grace for falling for it. She could never have known what was to come. She shuffled back between two large bins and tried to ignore the smell. The air was cold and fresh, coated with the last of the apricot light from the row of shops. She flexed her finger, feeling the rush of that remedying glow, her magic coming to life.