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“I’m sorry,” I say through a laugh. “I’m not really laughing at you so much as with you.”
“That saying only works when the other person is actually laughing.”
“Oh, well, then …” I tickle his side.
He chokes on a laugh, his arms giving out on him. His body presses down on me, and I can feel every rock-hard inch of him. It’s the perfect moment until my phone goes mad crazy inside the pocket of my pajama bottoms.
“Magic, answer phone,” I say loudly over Hunter’s laughing. When the phone doesn’t answer itself, I clear my throat and try again. “Magic, answer phone.”
Nothing.
I frown. Such a simple spell, and I can never get it to work.
“Guess I’m going to have to do it old-school,” I announce with a sigh.
Hunter pushes up on his elbows, allowing me enough room to dig my phone out of my pocket. “Don’t get discouraged. Some spells take time.”
“I’m not getting discouraged,” I lie, swiping my finger across the screen. I just wish I didn’t suck so much when it comes to magic.
Balancing his weight onto one arm, he hooks a finger under my chin and forces me to look at him. “I know when you’re getting discouraged, so don’t try to lie to me.”
“Sorry,” I grumble. “You’re right; I am getting discouraged. But I don’t want to be. I just get so sick of being the ditzy, powerless witch all the time.”
“You’re not powerless or ditzy,” he says sternly. “And I don’t want you ever saying that again.”
I want to point out that almost the entire town disagrees with him, but I decide to stop wallowing in self-pity for the day. “Fine, I’ll stop saying it.”
“Good.” He presses his lips lightly to my forehead, and my heart literally dies momentarily. “Now, I’m going to show you something that will help.” Pushing back, he stands up and offers me his hand. I reach up, thread my fingers through his, and he lifts me to my feet.
“Aw, so you can be a gentleman,” I joke to lighten the sullen damper I put on the atmosphere. “Guess you sure showed me.”
A small smile graces his lips. “That’s not what I want to show you.” He gestures for me to put my other hand in his.
Unsure what he’s up to, but completely and utterly curious, I move to place my palm against his. Then I pause as my phone vibrates.
“Just a second.” I start to glance down to read the message, but he steals the phone.
“I need you to not read that yet.” He returns my phone then signals for me to place my hand in his.
“Is my weirdness rubbing off on you?” I ask, fighting the urge to read the message as my phone buzzes yet again. “Because you’re acting strangely weird right now.”
“If it was, it’d be a good thing.” He wiggles his fingers, indicating for me to take his hand.
Sighing, I slip the phone into my pocket and line my palm with his. “Okay, so what’re we doing exactly? Trying to channel spirit energy or something? Because, while I’m all for séances, I should probably get my ass ready for the class I’m already late for.”
“Just chill, okay,” he says. “I’ll drive you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I want to.”
“Aw …” I playfully pretend to be charmed. “And there’s my gentleman friend again.”
His eyes narrow into slits, but his lips threaten to turn upward. “He never left.”
“Tell that to the bump on the back of my head,” I tease, moving to touch my head, but he tightens his fingers around mine.
“Nope. I need you to hold still for this.”
“Yes, boss, sir.” I grin sweetly at him when he gives me an impatient look. “What? I thought you liked my sarcasm.”
“Most days, yes. But right now, I need you to be serious, because we’re about to do some serious things.” His grin is all sorts of wicked and conspiring.
“Serious things?” I mockingly shiver. “Now you’ve got me terrified.”
“There’s no need to be scared,” he assures, gently stroking the back of my hand. “I’d never let anything hurt you.”
“Aw …” This time, my gushing is far less playful. “I know you wouldn’t.”
“Good.” He smiles, but appears nervous, which makes me a mountain of jitters. “Okay, so first, I need you to assure me that you’ll trust me and won’t freak out.”
“Um … I’m okay with the trusting part, but freaking out might be out of my control, depending on what you’re about to do.” I pause. “Although, if you told me what you’re about to do, I might be able to keep my freak out level under control.”
He swallows hard. “I want to try a connecting spell with you.”
My jaw nearly ninja punches the floor.
“A connecting spell?” I ask, positive I didn’t hear him correctly.
He bobs his head up and down. “To help you answer your phone.”
“Oh.” My brain stops functioning. Words don’t exist at the moment. And not just because I’m having one of my spaz moments.
No, my stunned confusion is mainly coming from the fact that he wants to use a connecting spell with me. A spell that allows another wizard or witch to temporarily share their magic with another. A spell that is considered intimate by many and rarely used by anyone other than couples.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Hunter says after a minute of silence ticks by. “I know it’s not a spell that’s generally used between friends, but I figured since we’re such good friends … you’d be okay with it. And I think it might help you harness some control over your powers.” He blows out a stressed breath. “You know what? Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
He starts to move his hands away from mine, but I clutch his fingers.
“No, it’s okay.” I sound embarrassingly breathless. “We can—”
A thick, rolled up piece of newspaper smacks me in the face. My hands leave Hunter’s as I press my fingertips to my throbbing forehead.
“What the hell was that?”
“An emergency newspaper delivery,” Hunter mutters. “Are you all right?”
No, I want to say. I’m not all right! I want to go back to a minute ago, put my hands in yours, and do the connecting spell. Only, instead of you saying we were doing it because “we’re such good friends,” you’d declare your undying love for me.
Instead, I manage a, “Yeah, I’m just peachy.” Sucking in a subtle breath, I lower my hand from my head. “So, what’s the emergency?”
Hunter already has the paper in his hand and is reading the front page. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask. When he makes no move to show me, I lean over to sneak a peek.
He hurriedly puts the newspaper to his chest and swings around me, rushing toward the kitchen at the end of the hallway. “You know what? I think we should get you to school before you end up missing the entire class.”
Worry clutches at my throat, and I dash after him. “Hunter, tell me what it says.”
“I can’t, Eva. Not right now, anyway.”
“Why? Is it because …?” Fear pulsates through my veins. “Did something happen to my parents?”
He hastily shakes his head but won’t look me in the eye. “No. It’s not that bad.”
I trip over the threshold as I follow him into the small kitchen area, the teal countertops littered with dirty dishes and empty food containers. “If it’s not that bad, then just tell me.”
“I can’t.” He rakes his free hand through his hair and casts a glance over his shoulder at me. Worry consumes his expression, causing my stomach to drop. He must see the fear in my eyes because he hastily adds, “Not until I look into it more and find out exactly what happened. Once I have, then I’ll show you.” He tucks the newspaper under his arm and begins opening cupboards. “Now, what are you craving this morning for breakfast? Popping cereal? Glittering eggs? Oh, if you want, I can make you some of my famous magic juiced do
nuts?”
“Thanks, but those make me really jittery. Too much magic, I think. And besides, I already ate. Remember the soggy cereal?”
He opens the cupboard above the stove. “Still, you should eat something better than that.”
While his back is turned to me, I move up and tickle the crap out of him.
Letting out an embarrassingly high-pitched squeal, he drops the paper as he stumbles forward. I feel a tad bit bad when he knocks his hip against the edge of the counter, but not enough to not read what’s on the paper.
“Another dead body stolen! Ryleigh Witcherford’s, who reportedly died a couple of weeks ago, body has gone missing.”
“What the freakin’ giggling sprites?” I gape at the headline staining the top of the paper. “How did this get reported … especially when my sister’s body isn’t …?” The paper falls from my hands as I realize that sometimes the news prints fast in Mystic Willow May and that the article might carry some truth.
I spin around and run for the basement door.
“Eva, wait!” Hunter calls out. “Let me go down there first, just in case something dangerous is still down there.”
I keep running, not slowing down until I reach the bottom of the crooked stairway. I need to see for myself if the article holds any truth. Then I screech to an alarmed halt.
