Page 99 of Too Hexed to Handle

Hope is no longer a futile thing I can barely cling to, but a chain locked around my heart, something solid that can’t be stolen away.

It’s early evening by the time we’ve finished, and after Astin has multiplied Damian’s coins until our pockets are bursting, we gather in the hallway. Astin glares at Eira, who’s fidgeting at Nuri’s side, but he seemed content enough earlier, once he’d learned she’d agreed to go on some kind of witchy retreat.

‘I hope you feel better soon, Eira,’ I tell her. ‘And I hope you get to experience the love you deserve one day.’

I expect her to come out with some new rhyme, but her voice is quiet and steady when she says, ‘Me too.’

‘Come on, you.’ Nuri takes her arm and offers me a knowing smile. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

I wave them off, watching Cale trail after them, clueless about where they’re going, but not caring so long as he’s in Nuri’s presence. Sagging against Astin’s side, I can’t help but let out a wistful sigh. Things would have progressed much faster between them if they’d been forced to share a bed. Speaking from experience, nothing helps witch-human relations better.

Standing away from the captives, Yvette plays with the gloves I’ve enchanted for her. The rest of her skin is coated in a healing balm that diminishes the effects for anybody who accidentally touches her. It’s not a cure, but it’s manageable. Maybe, if I can get enough light magic, I can do more for her, but Astin’s already been charmed once today.

‘I have some family in the city,’ Yvette says. ‘They should be able to help me find my mother. I just hope my hex doesn’t scare her away.’

‘I doubt it will. But if it does . . .’ I slide a hand around Astin’s waist. ‘Then she isn’t worth it. And instead, you find someone who doesn’t look away from you.’

Yvette nods, a little sadly, and we accompany her into Rerta for the night. We pass people approaching the ruins for the party on the way, and are forced to break the bad news that the host has had an unfortunate accident. Our numbers swell until we reach Rerta itself and the disappointed partygoers disappear into taverns, accompanied by captives wanting to enjoy their first taste of freedom in a long while, while Yvette heads to the outskirts to find her family. Astin and I meander hand in hand down the street, seeking accommodation.

With the festival over, there’s lodging available everywhere, but when we’re offered separate rooms Astin takes great offence to the suggestion and tells the innkeeper under no uncertain terms will we be needing two beds, let alone two rooms.

We rise early the following morning for the journey home. It passes quickly – Astin answering my endless questions this time, although he still refuses to agree that autumn leaves are pretty – and eventually Honeysuckle Inn comes into sight, smoke rising from the chimney. My parents emerge from the building as we walk up the path.

‘You have got to do something about that donkey,’ Mum says with no preamble. ‘He’s developed an attitude.’

‘He gets it from Astin,’ I say with a sigh. Astin’s fingers, wrapped around mine, twitch in protest, but it’s not like I’m wrong. Basil was a sweet creature until he heard one too many humphs from Astin. I look between Mum and Dad. ‘Why are you both here? Basil can’t have given you that much trouble.’

‘Oh, well, once the festival began, nobody was coming to the store. We thought we’d make a holiday out of it. It’s a lovely inn.’

My smile is as tight as Astin’s grip, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. They could have visited this inn anytime they liked. Visited me anytime they liked.

‘Well, why don’t you stay another night?’ Astin says. His tone is pleasant enough, but it’s got a similar edge to it as when he confronted Benedict. While I’d like to think he isn’t about to whip out the poker, I stroke the back of his hand with my thumb anyway, trying to convey to him their opinion doesn’t matter. Perhaps they’ll see me differently eventually, but it doesn’t need to be today.

Although I have an idea how I can make them start.

‘Yes, you should stay,’ I tell them. ‘There’s something I want to show you. Howard’s diaries. I want to read them. Together. There’s a whole part of this family we’ve never understood, and it’s time we tried.’

My parents exchange a look, but I plough on. ‘And I want to help you. With supplies for your shop. It’s silly for you to rely solely on a Souleater you’ve never met when you have one in your family. I’m capable of making the potions you need.’

I seem to have rendered them speechless. Possibly I should have started off slower than this, but now I’ve had the idea, I’m excited. I used to spend my days matchmaking because it was the only way I knew to spread joy in this world, but now I have options at my disposal. I remember the woman at Damian’s party, who needed money for her sick son’s medicine. What if medicine was in such abundance that it was cheap? Just enough to cover my parents’ costs.

Still silent, my parents glance at Astin’s hand in mine, as if seeing it for the first time. That he’s a human, touching a Souleater – I’ll teach them the real term another day – and nothing bad is happening. Some might say he’s enjoying it, if the way he refused to let go when I had to scratch my nose earlier is anything to go by.

‘Well,’ Dad says slowly, ‘if that’s what you want.’

‘It is.’ I hesitate, before disentangling myself from Astin and reaching for my parents, taking one of their hands in each of mine. The scent of steeped tea spikes, but it’s mild, worry not fear, and although their hands tremble, they don’t pull away.

‘I have light magic now. It’s time I did some good with it.’

Epilogue

There’s a hole in my brand-new Laevothe decorations.

I’ll never hear the end of this. Astin told me the barn was a stupid place to store them, but that’s because he’s unaware all our other storage is stuffed with tubs of lust powder. Eira, having been enlightened on the ways of light magic by Nuri’s coven, keeps sending the tubs as thank-you gifts, along with a note saying No human got hexed in the making of this powder followed by several hearts. I’m choosing to believe her.

It might be time to gently tell her I don’t need any more presents though, because I’ve only just replaced these garlands. Sighing, I hold them to the light, taking in the sight of what appears to be several large teeth marks.

‘Basil,’ I say. ‘Do we need to have a conversation about the difference between fabric and carrots?’