Hexed (The Gwen Sparks Series Book 4) (10 page)

After grabbing lunch at a café called Espresso Self, Fiona and I went to my shop while Dorian disappeared on an errand. We were currently sitting on the carpeted floor eating turkey sandwiches and sucking down iced lattes. Glass cases formed six rows across the floor, filled with items I had yet to check out. I saw small glass vials filled with colorful liquids on one shelf. Each had die cut tags hanging from the corked top, and I immediately thought of the “drink me” vial from Alice in Wonderland. As I stared at the potions, I wondered if I had anything similar.

A counter with a checkout station sat toward the front of the store. Pieces of broken wood, bags, papers, and pens littered the floor as if a tornado had swept through the store. Broomsticks had a very comforting feel with wood shelves lining the walls, low lighting and paned front windows. And it was
mine
.

“Any of this look familiar?”

I shook my head. “No.” I dropped my sandwich onto the flattened wrapper and allowed my eyes to inventory everything. I wanted to remember the woman that owned this place, see myself stocking shelves or ringing up customers. But I couldn’t connect with that woman, couldn’t remember her life—couldn’t remember myself. It was a lonely feeling not knowing who you were or not recognizing the faces surrounding you. What sort of things had Fiona and I been through that led us to becoming friends and living together? What had Dorian done to win me over? Sure, he was very attractive, but it saddened me to not remember our shared time together that led me into a relationship with him.

“Hey,” I said. Fiona’s eyes lifted to my face. “That stuff Dorian said back at the apartment …” I began.

“It’s okay,” Fiona said, holding up a hand. “He was kinda right about me.”

I studied her face, the bend in her mouth, and the fading in her eyes. “I doubt that.”

She set her iced latte down and rested her elbows on her bent knees. “Gwen, you and I have been friends since we were sixteen. From the first moment we spoke I knew we’d be best friends.” She laughed to herself as though remembering that first conversation. “And we are, but we’ve also grown into our own women.” She bit her lip and exhaled a deep breath as though needing a moment to collect her thoughts. “I shouldn’t be having this conversation with you when you can’t even remember our friendship.”

“No, go ahead,” I told her.

She eyed me for a few seconds. “I haven’t been a great friend. I’m needy and selfish sometimes. I’ve watched you deal with shit that would make me crumble, and it makes me wonder if we’re friends because we generally have things in common or because of routine. I love you to death—” I cringed at her words and she continued. “—that’s probably a bad expression considering everything that’s going on, but I do love you, Gwen. Our lives are just going in different directions.”

I scrunched up my face. “Why do I feel like you’re breaking up with me?” I knew Fiona meant well, but I had no clue how to respond. Since I didn’t remember her, she was virtually a stranger to me. Having this sort of conversation under these circumstances was awkward as hell.

“Ethan asked me to move in with him,” she blurted. “He’s getting a little frustrated with me because I haven’t given him an answer yet.”

“Why not?”

“I want to, but I feel guilty for leaving you with all the bills.”

I eyed the store again. “It looks like I do decent in the income category. I think I can handle the bills by myself.” I smiled at her. “If you like Ethan that much and want to move in with him, do it. Never allow guilt to hold you back from doing what you want. I’m a big girl. I can handle living alone.”

“Gosh, I feel horrible about even bringing this up with all the stuff that’s going on,” Fiona said. “See, I told you I was selfish.”

“The first step is admittance,” I joked. “In all honesty, I think it’s great he asked you to live with him. Everyone deserves a little slice of happy.”

“Like you and Dorian?” She winked and produced a knowing smile, except I wasn’t in the know. Were Dorian and I happy before I forgot who he was?

I decided to voice my thoughts. “Am I happy with Dorian?”

“Right, you don’t remember.” Fiona pursed her lips in thought. “You guys haven’t known each other that long, but yes, I think you’re happy with him. I’ve spent most of my time in Moon lately, but when we’d talk on the phone you sounded thoroughly smitten. It was nice after what happened with Aiden—” Her words cut off, and she looked away apologetically.

“Aiden, my ex. Dorian told me a little bit about him. What happened between us?”

“Let’s just say he lied to you about something major and broke your heart in the process. You guys had been friends for two years before you started dating. The two of you were intense, loved each other like crazy. Because I’m a horrible friend, I wasn’t there when you learned the truth about him.” Her voice fell, and I knew she was experiencing guilt again.

“Enough about men,” Fiona exclaimed, jumping up and getting a glint her eyes. “Wanna see some magic?”

Up until this point I hadn’t really considered the truth behind the explanations I’d been given, that witches actually existed or what it meant to be in a town full of supernatural creatures. I had been so busy trying to remember myself that I forgot to spend time wondering about these monsters that I called my friends and neighbors. And I admit, Fiona’s willingness to show me real life magic squashed all the bothersome things weighing on my mind.

“Absolutely!” I stood up, brushing breadcrumbs off my fingers and readying myself for Fiona’s show. I had no clue what to expect, and I found that’s what made all of this so exciting—the unexpected. I was sure this must be how children felt when their parents read bedtime stories, their naïve minds full of wonder and imagination, always secretly wondering ‘what if.’ I could feel the giddiness of all the what-if questions swirling through my head as I pictured the many things Fiona might do. Somewhere in the back of my mind I could remember hearing about witches when I was a child. A memory flicked through my brain of a time where I trick-or-treated, and as I made my way down a walkway, a little girl dressed in a black dress and pointy hat passed me. I looked up to the person holding my hand—just a blank spot in my head—and asked if witches could really fly on brooms and, if so, why didn’t everyone fly on brooms? The person holding my hand—a parent, perhaps?—laughed but their explanation was lost to whatever spell stole my memories.

I blinked back to the present, coming out of my head and focused on the actual witch standing across from me. Fiona rolled up the sleeves of her cream sweater, and stretched her fingers as though an athlete might stretch their muscles before a big game. Her Cupid’s bow mouth thinned and stretched as she smiled at me. Her eyes fell away from my face as she focused on the shelf to my left. Crisscrossing her arms, she waved her hands dramatically and muttered words that didn’t make it to my ears. She circled her arms, forming a large O in front of her body. When her hands met, palms facing upward, she pulled them toward her stomach. I stared at her with one part curiousness and one part ‘what the hell-ness.’

Just then, every vial sitting on my shelves exploded. Broken glass and corks rained across the room like shrapnel from a war. My arms instinctively came up to cover my face and head, and an unintentional shriek leaving my lips.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” I heard Fiona saying. “Oh my gosh!”

I lowered my arms and hesitantly peeked at the damage. Colorful liquid dripped from the shelves, some even bubbling as it made contact with the air.

“That can’t be good,” I said, eyeing Fiona. “Right?”

“Did you get any on you?”

I surveyed my body, panic racing through my chest. I wasn’t sure what type of potions I stocked, but I didn’t want to find out either. Releasing a relieved breath, I said, “No, I don’t think any got on me. What about you? Are you okay?”

Just as Fiona’s eyes landed on my face, I felt a stinging sensation on my back. Reaching an arm behind me, I tried to figure out what caused the pain.

“Fiona, my back. Something is burning.” When the vials exploded, I had turned my back toward them to protect my front. I worried a piece of glass had found its way into my skin.

Fiona pushed my thin sweater up to inspect my back. The gasp that followed did not comfort me at all. “What? What is it? Is it bad?” I cringed when the burn intensified. It felt as though someone was pouring salt into a fresh wound.

“Um…” Fiona drawled. “It’s not a piece of glass. It’s a…”

“What?” I snapped, my panic growing the longer she hesitated to tell me.

“It’s a leaf.”

“A leaf?” I asked with disbelief. “Get it off my skin then. I must be allergic or something because it stings really bad.”

“Uh…well it’s not really sticking to your skin; it’s growing out of it.”

“What?!” I spun around, fully freaked out. “I have a leaf growing out of my skin?” Surely I had heard her wrong. “Fix it. Pull it. Do something.”

“Okay, okay, calm down.”

I took a deep breath and tried to take Fiona’s advice, but just as I was calming down, another burning sensation erupted from my hand. As I brought my arm up, sure enough another leaf sprouted from the back of my hand.

“Fiona,” I said, showing her my hand. “Make it stop.” I had a vision of me being covered in hundreds of leaves, and the panic returned with a vengeance. At Fiona’s laughter, I ceased all worrying and gawked at her.

“You think this is funny?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. “It’s not.” She dropped her hand and straightened out her lips, looking all serious, but her eyes still twinkled with amusement.

“Actually,” Fiona said, the twinkle fading from her eyes faster than it appeared, “this is very serious.” I felt my jaw slacken, worried there was no cure for sprouting leaves and, not only would I not have my memories, but I would be forced to live the rest of my life looking like a bush.

“Oh, not this.” Fiona waved her hand toward me. “There’s a counter spell for this. I just mean, my magic backfiring. That has never happened. It has to be because of the balance being off. It’s not good.”

“Because magic backfiring is dangerous,” I said, and Fiona nodded.

She headed across the store, me on her heels, and searched the hooks on the wall. Packages of dried stuff hung from plastic bags, things I didn’t look at too closely. I was pretty sure I saw bat wings and rat tails, but I didn’t want to chance another look.

“Here”—Fiona handed me a package—“Eat this, and the leaves should stop growing.”

“
Should
?”

She shrugged. “In a normal world, it would stop the leaves from growing. But, since magic is all wonky, the best I can give you is a maybe.”

I looked down at the package in my hands, and my lips peeled up over my teeth. “What is this?”

“It’s just a mixture of natural items,” Fiona responded, still eyeing the wall of products. “Don’t you want to stop growing leaves?”

Since we’d walked across the store, three more leaves had popped up. I now had one on my back, one on my hand, one on my left arm, one on my neck and one just below my ear. Yes, yes I wanted to stop growing leaves. Eying the package again, I sucked in a deep breath and tore it open. I tried very hard not to inhale the scent, but it fought its way through my nostrils anyway. It wasn’t as bad as I suspected, just a strong earthy dirt smell. Considering the unsavory things I’d seen hanging on the wall, eating dirt wasn’t all that bad.

Tipping my head back, I poured the contents of the plastic sleeve into my mouth. My eyes closed as my teeth ground the gritty ingredients into dust. After a few more crunches, the taste of something worse than rotten meat tangled with the dirt taste, and I had to slam a hand over my mouth to keep from throwing up all over the floor. My throat worked against my stomach, swallowing the nasty concoction down. Luckily, there had only been a couple teaspoons of stuff in the package.

“That didn’t taste natural,” I said, retching and fighting back the vomit. My mouth was coated with the disgusting stuff, dry and gritty. I jogged over to where I left my iced latte and sucked on the straw until I slurped against an empty cup.

“Probably the grubs,” Fiona said behind me, chuckling.

I spun around. “Grubs?” A visible shiver traveled through my body, the thought threatening what little control I had over my gag reflex. I glared at Fiona as I held a hand over my mouth. The latte had not helped.

“What?” Fiona shrugged with a sheepish smile. “Bugs
are
natural.”

I shook my head and walked over to the countertop. Resting my hands against it, I hung my head and closed my eyes as I tried to will myself to stop feeling sick. All I kept picturing were fat white worms being ground up beneath my teeth, their insides squishing out along my tongue.

“Oh, God,” I groaned, kicking the mental picture out of my head.

“Here.”

I spun around to see Fiona handing me the last of her iced latte. I grabbed it and drank it greedily, swishing it around the inside of my mouth to help dislodge the grit from my teeth. When I got home I was going to brush my teeth ten times, and then one more time for good measure.

“If it makes you feel better, I think it’s working.” I looked at Fiona again, and she nodded toward my arm. Sure enough, the little leave protruding from my skin withered before my eyes and fell to the carpeted floor.

“Thank the Goddess,” I breathed, setting the cup on the counter.

“Uh,” Fiona said thoughtfully.

“What?”

She pursed her lips and studied me. “You said ‘thank the
Goddess.
’ Normal people, non-magical people don’t say that. Perhaps your subconscious is remembering things.”

That was enough to make me momentarily forget about what I had just eaten. Maybe this memory loss was only temporary, and in a few days I would remember everything about my life. I had to hope that was true if only for the simple fact that it gave me something to look forward to.

“You ready to head home?”

I nodded and started toward the door, and then remembered about the cup I had set down Picking it up with the intention of throwing it away, I stopped short as my fingers brushed against the countertop. A sudden flash of memory spiraled through my head. I saw my body lying along the counter, bloody and unconscious. Large hands brushed my hair back, and it was only the glimpse of leather at the wrist that led me to believe they belonged to Dorian. Was this where the rogue had attacked me? I couldn’t remember if Dorian ever told me where it happened. The memory faded faster than it came, flashing in and out like a strobe light before all that was left was darkness swirling through my head. The debris on the floor and the plywood covering the front door led me to believe something sinister had happened at Broomsticks, and I suddenly had a feeling that this was where I had died.