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“Something had better be on fire,” she snarled. “Or something is about to be.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m cursed,” I blurted out, twisting my hands in the front of my sweater. The dawning realization had been plaguing me all day, and I was desperate for an answer, even if Wanda had already given me one.
“I already told you—you aren’t cursed.”
I frowned. “I’m pretty sure I am—can you... check again?” I mean—witch magic wasn’t a science, right? There had to be times when Wanda might make a mistake—say like—failing to detect a curse that had been placed on me.
Wanda blinked at me blearily for a few seconds. Then she heaved an enormous sigh, like I was the most trying person on the face of the entire planet, and raked a hand back through her hair. “I don’t make mistakes.”
“I’m sure you don’t, but would you mind just checking again? I mean—just to put my own mind at ease?”
The frown became more pronounced. “Who would ever bother to curse you—someone so sickeningly cheerful who doesn’t have an enemy... anywhere? Honestly, where do you even get these ideas?”
I knew, in her own special way, Wanda was trying to reassure me. But what had been happening lately—well, it was all just too much for it to be a coincidence.
“Wanda.” It came out as more of a wail than I’d meant it to. “I’m serious.”
She tugged at the belt of her house coat and stepped back from the door. “Well, you’d better come in, then. I’m not doing any kind of magic without caffeine.”
She bustled me through the house and into the pristine looking kitchen. I had a little bit of tidiness envy, because my kitchen looked a bit like an essential oil bomb went off in it, until I remembered that a kitchen in a vampire’s house probably didn’t get a lot of use.
Wanda turned on the coffee machine, one of the fancy industrial ones that could make some kind of double shot caramel macchiatos in point three seconds, and stared at it with the kind of desperation that was a little uncomfortable to watch.
I just sat in the chair she’d dumped me into, trying not to fidget too much. I wanted Wanda’s help, and she was my BFF, but I wasn’t entirely sure about my safety if I got between her and her first cup of coffee. Wanda didn’t even sit down for the first cup. She just sucked it back right there at the counter, and set the machine for a refill.
I jumped when she plonked a mug down onto the table in front of me. The liquid was a pale gold, and still steaming as I cautiously nudged it towards myself. “What is it?”
“Chamomile.” Wanda half sat, half collapsed into the chair across from me. “To calm your butt down. I’d dose you up with horse tranquilizers, but I’m fresh out.”
While it wasn’t exactly nice, my stomach was trying itself in knots, and some tea actually did sound good. So, I sipped at it, waiting impatiently for Wanda to wake up so we could face the task at hand.
Wanda finally finished her second cup, and she gave a longing look towards the machine, but turned back to me reluctantly. “Alright, why do you think you’re cursed, for spell’s sake?”
I took a deep breath and tried to loosen my grip on the mug before I cracked it. “It’s a lot of things. Just, everything keeps going wrong. It started out with me feeling clumsy, tripping, dropping things, you know? But then it progressed.” My fingers were white at the knuckles, so I forced myself to let go of the cup and folded them in my lap instead. “And then it was my usual supplier having issues, so I had to go to another place for product, and they sent me bad ingredients that were mislabeled. But in general, I’ve been suffering all sorts of nightmares, difficult customers, and then, last night…”
Wanda yawned so widely, I could see her tonsils. “Sorry,” she managed with a little smile. “Keep going.”
“Then last night, when I was out with Andre—”
“Oh my Goddess,” she started, her eyes going wide. “You were going to finally get some and it went wrong? Hmm, that could be a curse. If nothing else, a hex. Either way, this is serious. Hang on, let me get some supplies.”
“It wasn’t like that,” I protested weakly, but she was already out of the room and racing down the hall.
“Keep explaining!” she called out. “I can hear you.” Right—courtesy of her vampire hearing, which was courtesy of her Blood Witch magic.
“Just as things were getting good between us,” I continued, a little louder, just in case. “And we were finally making some headway into whatever is going on between us, the electricity went out.”
I buried my face in my hands, kind of hoping the ground would just open up underneath me and I could fall into a sinkhole and not have to finish this conversation. When Wanda came back, to my relief, she wasn’t lugging any elaborate supplies or curse-breaking tools. She was dressed, which was fair enough. She’d also taken the time to get another cup of coffee before she sat back down.
“All kidding aside, everything you mentioned kind of sounds like crappy luck. No cursing required.” She raised her mug like she was toasting me. “Annoying, but it happens. Grin and bear it, and I’m sure everything will be sunshine and roses for you soon enough.”
Wanda was the High Witch of Haven Hollow, and no one could say she didn’t know her stuff. But I just couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was very wrong with me.
“I keep dreaming of fire.” The words came out just louder than a whisper, like I was confessing something. “And the dreams feel so real—they’re more like visions. And that’s what I’m afraid of—that I’m somehow getting a vision of the future. I feel like something terrible is going to happen.”
I must have looked like a wreck, because Wanda actually put her mug down with a small click. She reached across the table and wiggled her fingers at me. “Hands.”
I’d been clutching at the hem of my sweater so tightly that it actually hurt to make myself let go as blood rushed back into the tips of my fingers.
