Page 54 of Uncharmed

‘But . . . but this feels more like a home than anywhere I’ve ever lived.’

Annie had to close her eyes for a moment, not allowing the heartbreak to take hold. Instead, her hands flew to her hips in a pretence at some authority and she tried to give a light answer. ‘Well, we can’t stay here for ever, can we? This is Hal’s house, for starters, and he doesn’t want us here.’

‘That’s not true,’ said Hal, who sat very still, his eyes narrowly fixed on Annie. There was cool determination across his face.

‘See,’ Maeve said emphatically, crossing her arms. The pair of them shot a conspiratorial look to one another across the fire.

Annie laughed at the ridiculous simplicity of Hal’s reply, but it came out as more of an incredulous, angry breath. ‘Oh, so all three of us are supposed to just abandon our entire lives and stay in this house together, are we? You’re crazy. We already spend half of our time wanting to throttle each other. There’s no way.’

‘Why not?’ Maeve hit back.

‘Because life doesn’t work like that, okay?’ Annie’s voice was rising, the temper that she had kept locked away for so many years choosing now of all moments to wake with an impatient lion’s yawn. It wasn’t fair. ‘This isn’t real life, the three of us holed up here together in a cosy cottage like all the realms’ most mismatched, dysfunctional family. I have a job and real responsibilities. I already have a life, without the two of you in it making everything feel so completely confusing and . . .’

‘Well, that’s just charming, isn’t it, Hal?’ Maeve interrupted. He grimaced.

‘I had a task to complete for the coven. And, look, we’ve done it.’

Annie brandished the letter, but Maeve snatched it from her grasp and promptly chucked it straight into the fire.

‘I am not a task,’ Maeve spat. Annie noticed the static of unbridled magic spark between the girl’s fingertips again in a way she hadn’t seen since their first days. But she quickly reeled herself back in and her powers’ temper quelled. ‘Annie, come on,’ Maeve continued, her tone more bargaining. ‘You’ve said it yourself that you’re unhappy with the corner that you’ve been backed into. So am I. I know you wish that you could go back and change things for yourself. Maybe this is how we . . .’

‘This is not a case of “we”, Maeve. You have to go home and so do I. And Hal has to go back to his normal life without the two of us ruining it for him.’

Maeve stared at her, open-mouthed. She turned to Hal for support. ‘C’mon, cowboy, back me up here.’

Even across from the bonfire, Annie heard Hal’s deep sigh as he stood up to speak. ‘Annie’s right, Maeve.’

Maeve faltered. ‘Since when have you ever called me Maeve?’

‘Since I’m backing up your guardian on this one, kid. Neither of you belong here, holed up with me. That’s just the way it has to be. It’s the way that this was always supposed to go.’

Annie hoped that she was imagining the crack in his voice. She steeled herself to deliver the final word. It felt unnatural and ugly, to know that she was causing someone that she cared for anything other than happiness. And this wasn’t just a someone, this was Maeve.

‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, but the matter is closed. Our time here has finished.’

Maeve looked as though she’d been slapped; Annie could barely believe that she was seeing or hearing herself right. It felt as though she had been placed in a body that wasn’t hers. She hastily brushed away a rogue tear that had escaped despite her best efforts.

‘Go and pack your things, please.’

It felt as though her heart splintered when she noticed Maeve’s bottom lip quiver for a fraction of a second, wavering like the shadows of the bonfire flames. But the girl quickly steeled herself, as she always did. Maeve stormed away and Karma leapt up hastily to follow her friend. Moments later, the sound of a slammed door crashed through the cottage with so much force that the entire house rattled.

Annie let out a heavy breath and slumped back down onto the hay bale, folding in half to hug her legs and rest her forehead against her knees. The silence, speckled with the angry spitting of the fire, felt so heavy.

Eventually, Hal dared to break it.

‘Stay.’

He was hunched over, too, staring fixedly at his fingers that were laced together, elbows on thighs. Their bodies mirrored one another either side of the bonfire, silhouetting them both in orange and red.

‘But you just said . . .’

‘Well, I had to back you up in front of the kid, didn’t I? But I’m serious, you should stay. For as long as you like.’ Hal leaned towards her, his face illuminated by the flames. ‘What is it exactly that you are trying to prove, Annie?’

She pressed her lips together, fighting the temptation to tell the truth but quickly buckled, the answer forming itself without any hexes or curses or spells to temper it into a more palatable, less startling truth. ‘I don’t even know any more.’

Hal didn’t reply, simply raised his eyebrows to invite her to explain.

She picked at a cuticle before catching herself ruining the nail. She turned her distraction to the hay bale instead as she tried to talk sense into him, still not permitting herself to meet his eyes as she pulled at single strands. ‘Things might seem okay right now, but a few more days and we’ll end up driving you crazy. Maeve’s scrunchies constantly lying around, my glitter everywhere . . .’ Annie breathed an empty laugh. ‘You already think I’m the worst.’