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“When you’re ready, your mate will need to move back,” the witch says. “Otherwise the spell won’t work, and we don’t have time to run through it twice.”
Cheryl lets go and moves back.
I clear my throat. “I’m ready.”
She nods. “Sit back and relax.”
Easier said than done, at least until I start to feel that tingling she warned me about. It’s like being given an injection of mellow-the-hell-out. My body feels like it’s melting into the couch. I don’t remember any drugs that ever felt this good. She should sell this as a service. Crack for the terminally tense. One spell and you’ll forget all your earthly worries for good.
I try to stay awake but it’s no use.
One yawn, my eyelids close and I pass the hell out.
Chapter Seventy-Three
Cheryl
Imovetositnext to Everett when the hairs on my arms start to raise. I don’t want to be too close for the spell to work properly. I can see Mabel’s magic rolling over Oscar, as she stands, hands outstretched in front of him. He yawns lightly, just once, and closes his eyes.
His head droops forward slightly. He’s asleep.
I fold my arms under my chest when I feel my hands shake.
I’m pinning our hopes on this spell. It must be the answer. It’s the only thing that makes sense.
I wait with my breath held, sending out a silent prayer to Freya.
Mabel’s hands start to go down and her eyes open. Her magic fades and disappears.
The spell’s been done. She knows if Oscar is saved.
Her grim smile makes my heart sink along with my hopes.
“He wasn’t possessed?” I ask, my voice cracking.
“Unfortunately, it’s not a simple answer,” she says with a sigh. “He should wake up in a moment. I’ll explain what I found to all of you once he does.”
I glance at Everett. He’s scowling, but I’m not sure that’s new. He’s been pissed off for so long it’s hard to tell at this point. I look back at Oscar.
He’s still asleep on the couch, his head still drooped in that slightly uncomfortable position.
I get up and move in close again, taking his hand in mine.
He moans softly as he wakes up, his other hand going up to his face to rub his eyes.
“Oscar,” I murmur. “How do you feel?”
“Like I could sleep for a week,” he replies, as he pushes himself up in his seat.
He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. “Well? Did it work?”
I look at Mabel and she gives out another weary sigh.
“I did find signs of possession, but they weren’t recent.”
I close my eyes, and Oscar’s hand grasps mine more firmly.
It wasn’t the answer we were hoping for, but we need to know what she means.
