Page 46 of Uncharmed

‘That sounds horrible, Maeve,’ Annie said, swallowing a throat full of dread so solid that the words came out thick and suffocating. She felt sick with inky black guilt. ‘I’m so sorry.’

She caught Hal’s eye. He was staring at her, a loaded look in his green eyes. Did he know that she knew something more? That was impossible, surely; the spell would ensure that her words always sounded believable and appealing to him. As far as Hal was concerned, the hex would pick up the weight of her secret and cleverly keep it hidden.

‘I am happy, I am. I’m having such a good time here,’ Maeve was quick to add. ‘But this feeling comes every night to ruin it and then, when the murmuring stops and I can eventually sleep, I spend the day feeling like I’m trying to remember a dream. All I can remember is the sadness from their voice and it stays with me all the time.’

‘You’re brave to tell us,’ Hal said, tenderness in his deep voice. ‘I promise you though, this is a safe place. There are so many protective enchantments around Arden Place. Mostly to keep people out in general, because, well . . . I hate people – but especially any kind of dark magic. I keep a close eye on things around here,’ he said, catching Annie’s eye, too.

Maeve shrugged and stretched her pyjama sleeves over her hands. ‘Like I said, I don’t really understand what it is. Do you think this place is haunted or something? That would be cool.’

‘No one’s being haunted on my watch, kid.’ Hal shot a wink in Maeve’s direction.

Annie gave the girl a weak smile and wrapped a soothing hand around the fist that was still frantically tugging at blanket threads.

‘Are you going to make me leave?’ Maeve asked quietly. It was as though she’d been daring herself to ask, steeling herself to hear an answer that she didn’t want. Annie felt Maeve’s apprehension tighten itself like a boned corset around her own ribs.

‘I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do,’ Annie said. ‘Please don’t worry about this, okay? You leave that to me. I’ll do the worrying for the both of us.’

‘How about I do it for all three of us?’ Hal added.

Annie knew what Maeve’s revelation meant. A terrifying realization had cemented itself in her mind and she knew what had to be done. She would have to give it up. After so many years of it controlling every aspect of her life, tampering with her strings like a marionette master, permitting her to remain in the confines of perfectionism to keep everybody happy . . .

The spell would have to end.

Chapter Eighteen

FAMILIAR SCENES

Maeve woke up tired and cranky, but Annie knew that it was only because she was smarting from the embarrassment of being so vulnerable – not a trait that came naturally to the girl. Annie had heard her up even before she was, treading the creaky floorboards to make snacks and sit outside on the porch as the dawn broke. She had turned down the offer of short-distance transference and even trying her first tarot-card pull, which was when Annie knew there was something really wrong. Instead, she seemed compelled to just draw. Maeve set up camp at the dining table with her sketchbooks and pencils, drawing with a fervour as though her arms were separate from the rest of her body, head bent low over the table so that her dark hair hid her work. It was only when she resurfaced, leaned back against her chair to stretch her wrist and assess her art, that Annie caught a glimpse of the drawing. It was the same character again that Maeve seemed to draw for comfort, the dark-haired girl who always cropped up in her work.

Annie busied herself with the butter and sugar that she had begun to work on while Maeve was content. It was quiet across the cottage and its meadow. Annie too felt insular and reticent, a little shocked by the realization that she had come to about her future without Splendidus Infernum. A little treat was the only answer for it all. It felt good to sink her hands into the sandy mixture, to be baking for pleasure, not under pressure. Time seemed to stand still and watch on with a small, secretive smile at Arden Place.

‘You drew that?’ Hal asked, stopping as he passed through the house with a giant bucket of freshly picked, extra shiny red apples slotted onto his shoulder. Maeve only nodded, flexing her fingers around her pencil. He raised his eyebrows to silently ask for permission and, when Maeve didn’t object, he raised the sketchbook and held it towards the window to admire it more closely. ‘That settles it,’ he said gruffly. ‘We’re sending you out onto the streets to earn your keep, kid. You’ll make us millions.’

Maeve blushed at the Hal-style compliment and let out a self-conscious snort of a laugh. It was the first smile she’d shown all day. Something about Hal’s relaxed, comfortable nature had clicked for her as much as it had for Annie. Maeve dropped the secrecy around her art whenever he asked about it. He had already insisted on hanging above the fireplace the canvas she had created with her paint magic, and asked her to recreate the sky sketches she’d produced among the stars. Having come to understand his strange, thoughtful candour a little more, Annie was grateful for it. It seemed to wrap a blanket around her own anxious, tightly wound presence, softening her sharpest edges in ways that she hadn’t known she needed.

‘A friend of yours?’ Hal asked, tapping the sketch as he returned it to Maeve.

‘Sort of. I guess she is,’ Maeve replied. He didn’t push it, only giving his signature ‘hmm’ in return. He shuffled the bucket of apples back onto his shoulder, shooting Annie a lingering, pensive look before he left, which made her pause. ‘We should talk,’ he called to her decidedly while stepping out onto the porch. She gave him a small nod from the kitchen, which he returned with a hat tip as he marched off across the meadow.

Annie glanced back to Maeve, who was tapping the pencil rapidly as she contemplated her work from all angles. The suffocating guilt from her realization that the hex was wreaking havoc with Maeve still clung hotly.

For the first time since beginning her pact with Splendidus Infernum, when she was just Maeve’s age herself, Annie had vowed not to take a bath before bed. The looming prospect was already making her feel slightly sick, rather ironically filling her with an anxiety that matched the level of worry she normally felt on everybody else’s behalf because of the spell. The possibilities of what this might really mean, who she might become and what might come crashing down around her, were too vast to allow herself to consider. Who was she if she allowed herself not to be perfect? What even was the alternative? She crumbled the butter and added an extra generous dash from her jar of serendipity cinnamon. She would need all the good fortune she could get.

‘What are you making?’ While Annie’s thoughts dragged her to a far-off place, Maeve wandered into the kitchen and leaned in beside her.

‘Friendship fancies. They’re mainly to cheer you up, but I also thought they might be useful in getting to know Hal a little better. He still feels like a bit of a mystery, don’t you think?’

‘Not really,’ Maeve said with a shrug.

‘Oh. Well. They look very pretty on a doily, but the drizzle is also my secret alchemy blend to strengthen a friendship. Grains of paradise, rose quartz reflection, moonlight milk for ease and harmony . . .’ Maeve pulled a face. ‘Don’t worry, it still tastes of chocolate,’ Annie explained. ‘It just helps to bring out the potential of a blossoming bond. He’s such a closed book, but this should help. We don’t even know where the warlock wanders off to every day.’ She gave a determined nod, pleased with herself for the idea.

‘I know,’ Maeve said. ‘He goes to the stables.’

Annie hesitated. ‘He does?’ Then hesitated again. ‘We have stables?’

Maeve didn’t seem to be listening too closely, more concerned with dunking a teaspoon into the bowl full of fondant icing. ‘Are these like the French ones? I like the pink ones best.’

Annie smiled, unable to not take that as a personal compliment. ‘Me too.’