Spellbound: A magical sequel to Bewitched (8 page)

In a flash the whole evening goes to shit.

“Put her down,” I bellow and shove Hamilton, which isn’t the smartest plan. He’s still holding her and both stumble to the side. Madison lands on her feet, but tilts into the cake table, sending both off balance for a second.

“Listen, Prince of Darkness—” Hamilton doesn’t finish the rest of his sentence because I shove him again.

Bad idea.

His fist flies toward my face and I don’t have time to duck. Too late I step back. I feel the impact on my face as I try to grab his arm with my left hand.

My right hand lands in something soft and squishy. Lifting my palm to my face, I see it covered in chocolate frosting. A fist-sized crater remains in the center of the cake, which I’ve just destroyed. Hamilton huffs and grumbles in front of me, rubbing his fist where his knuckles are red from their impact with my jaw. I may have started the fight, but he’s finished it. My pulse throbs in my jaw as I feel a dozen eyes staring at me.

“Please stop,” Madison pleads, tugging on my arm. “Everyone is staring.”

Let them.
 

I hold up both of my hands. “It’s stopped. I’m sorry.”

A few tears spill from her eyes and slide down her cheeks, leaving faint black streaks on her skin. I move to brush them away with my thumbs, but she shakes her head, stopping me.

“I’ve ruined your party. I’m sorry.” My anger dissipates. Not caring about the frosting, I dejectedly stuff my fists into my jacket pockets. My fingertips brush against a small box in the left pocket. Madison’s present. I know better than to give it to her now and have it forever be linked with my bad behavior. “I’m going to go.”

No one stops me as I shoulder my way through the crowd toward the door. With my head down, I force myself not to glance back. The cold night air stings against the bruise forming on my jaw. I poke the tender skin to remind myself how low I’ve sunk.

Light spills on the sidewalk when the door opens behind me. “Andrew!”

* * *

“Andrew. Please stop,” Madison calls out from behind me.
 

I’m helpless to ignore her, but I know whatever I say next will ruin us. I let my head fall forward, avoiding her eyes.

Staring at her black boots and tights, I do the last thing I ever imagined. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. You deserve better than me. Someone normal and who can treat you right.”
 

Ignoring my words, she steps closer and brushes her fingers against mine. “Shh, you don’t mean it.”

 
I nod. “I do mean it. Every word. You don’t deserve to be with a guy who ruins your birthday because of some misplaced jealous rage. No one should ever put up with behavior like mine.”

Her voice wavers and breaks. “It’s not you. I know it’s not you. It’s some weird Mercury in retrograde, Saturn alignment mumbo-jumbo nonsense.”

“How can you not believe in curses after the last few weeks?” I’m stunned she’s still doubting.

“I’m not sure what I believe. Tricks and illusions, maybe, but none of this makes sense. Ageless godfathers, animal shape shifters, and magical abilities don’t exist in the real world I’ve lived in my whole life. Why should I believe any of this?”

Incredulous, I lift my eyes to study her face. Emotions struggle in her deep brown eyes. She’s battling to ignore the evidence before us. Belief and logic are at war in her mind.
 

She finally speaks. “I agree I can’t give you a logical explanation, but there must be a simple reason for your personality change. You could be having issues with too much testosterone. Food allergy? Or someone is poisoning you? My ancestor Mary Bradbury could no more change her shape than Mistoffelees can stand up on his hind legs and do a jig.”

“Clearly you’ve never seen
Cats
the musical.” My lame attempt at humor bombs and settles near my feet, along with any hope I have of making things right with her. At least right now. “You sound like the scholars who blame the rye or hallucinations for the witch hysteria. Perhaps I’ve been hexed to become an asshole when we’re in public? I hate how I act around you, but I can’t seem to stop it. Until I can get myself under control or break the curse, I should stay away. For both of us.”

“This is temporary, right?” She tugs on my hand, silently begging me to fight for us.

I don’t speak, because I can’t lie to her.
 

“Are you breaking up with me?” Her bottom lip trembles and she rolls it into her mouth to hide the fact.

“It’s the last thing I want to do.” Pain claws at my chest. I won’t add my tears to hers.
 

“That’s not a no.”

I take both her hands in mine. “You shouldn’t want to be with a guy like me. You know this. Hell, you kneed Hamilton in the balls for less. Don’t make excuses for my behavior because it’s me. I’m just a guy.”

“We can’t break up. We’ve only barely started dating. We like each other. How can this be it?” Her voice drops to a whisper. Tears shine in her dark eyes.
 

“It just is.” I struggle to not add “for now” at the end of my sentence. This isn’t who I am. I’m not a fighter or irrationally jealous of every other man in a five mile radius. I will figure out a way to change. I need to solve this before I do more damage or ruin us forever. The thought of physically harming her sickens me. I have to protect her. From myself.

I kiss the corner of her mouth and extract my fingers from where they’re entwined with hers.
 

This time I don’t look back or pause when I hear her call my name again.

Nine

After my last episode on her birthday, I’ve avoided Madison completely for three weeks.
 

It was one of the worst nights of my life and I’ve stayed away after seeing the sad resignation in her eyes.
 

Dr. Philips has been allowing me to skip class as long as I turn in my papers and keep a journal for my thoughts and feelings. He thinks he’s some sort of psychologist as well as my godfather and professor

Mom and Madison have continued to meet, but somehow I resist the daily urge to ask any questions about their progress. Mom gives me cryptic updates. Yesterday she told me about the diminished light of Madison’s heart chakra. In new age speak, I think that means Madison misses me as much as I miss her. I touch the sharp, faceted crystal in my pocket. Known for its cleansing properties, Mom said Madison picked the small smokey quartz during one of their lessons. The gesture gives me a glimmer of hope and I carry it with me everywhere.

Despite all evidence over the six weeks since Halloween, I’m not a troglodyte-asshole-jerk. Not even close.

Chest thumping, barely containing the urge to throw her over my shoulder, and starting fights because I’m flooded with Hulk testosterone isn’t me. I took it too far and got into my first fight.
 

Not me.

The cursed version of me.

Please let it be the curse and not some latent personality flaw that only comes out when I really like a girl. How lame would that be?
 

My footsteps softly crunch small twigs and dead leaves as I make my way deeper into the woods. A light snow filters through the bare branches of the trees lining the path and dusts the ground with white, softening the voices ahead of me.

The winter solstice is still a week away, but I’m feeling confident I can break the curse and stop being the human version of a poisonous frog. I’ve spent weeks studying the old texts and working with my mother, trying to figure out the how and why of my behavior.

If darkness invoked this hex, then we’ll use ancient magic to fight it.

My simple plan involves a small gathering from the coven, a pair of glasses, fire, tonight’s first snow, a full moon, and Madison.
 

Convincing her to come out to the woods with me at midnight because there’s a full moon was the trickiest part of this idea. Thankfully my mother still believes in true love and refuses to give up on us. She listened to my plan and promised Madison would be here.

As I approach the clearing, light from candles and cell phones breaks the darkness. People cluster in small groups, speaking softly. No one is wearing black robes, but I spot a few dark hoodies and jeans. Disappointment tugs at my mood. Something as important as my future should require full traditional garb. Is it too much to ask for some pomp and circumstance to deal with suspected dark magic? If not tonight, when?
 

I spy my mother’s red chopstick pierced bun in the middle of a group of gray-haired men and women near the tree line. In the dim light the familiar sticks in my mother’s hair seem to glow. I keep to the edge of the circle, avoiding having to make conversation with anyone. Tonight may be focused on me, but that doesn’t mean I want to be the center of attention.

I sniff the air for dill and am relieved when I can’t smell any. Although I’m not sure if I’ve grown immune to it after all these weeks.

Philips’ mop of gray hair pokes out from beneath a knitted beanie hat. He nods a greeting at me, but I don’t stop to speak with him. I scan the crowd for Madison’s red coat. An unlit pyre of wood centers the clearing and I head toward it, figuring it will give me the best view of the gathered coven. The Parker and Good sisters, Mrs. Howe, Mr. and Mrs. Wardwell, and old man Bishop stand around holding steaming cups. A few of them acknowledge me with nods of their heads, lifting their mugs, or small waves. The coven members have known me my entire life. These people are my mother’s family, her sisters and brothers. For an only child of an only child, I have a lot of aunts and uncles.
 

Philips steps out from the crowd and makes his way over to me. Once he’s within a few feet, he asks me how I’m doing.

“Are you ready?” He pats my arm.
 

I’ve never performed magic in front of the coven before. Of course they all know the rumors about my powers, but none have witnessed my fire starting abilities in person.

Rolling my shoulders, I nod. “Not really.”

Mom cuts through the crowd into the open. A flash of red follows behind her.
 

Madison.

“Focus on what you really want. The rest should crumble and fall away …” Philips says something more but his words fade into silence as I stare at Madison. I haven’t seen her in weeks. It might as well be months.

I take a step closer to her, but Mom steps between us. “After.”

Abruptly I stop as if being pushed back. “Okay, no need to use magic.”

Mom lifts an eyebrow. “If not tonight, when?”

A calm energy cloaks my back and I turn to see Tate standing behind me. “You too?”

He shrugs. “Figured it couldn’t hurt, even if you’ve been immune to me for over a month.”

“Maybe it’s a good sign Tate can affect you again.” Madison finally speaks.
 

The familiar urge to sweep her into my arms returns, but it’s not as intensely. Instead I lean down to whisper in her ear so only she can hear. “I’ve missed you.”

Her smile barely moves her lips. I see hope and fear mix in her dark eyes. “Me too.”

“Don’t give up on me”

“I believe in us.” She brushes her fingers along mine and I can feel the sensation jolt through my body as if she shocked me. This is the first touch we’ve exchanged since her birthday. “Believe in yourself.”

In the snowy moonlight, Madison is all dark shadows and cream skin. Her full lips match the deep red of her coat. She’s sublime beauty.

She should be mine.

She will be mine.

Madison steps on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. “For good luck.”

I kiss the top of her head before facing my mother.
 

“Ready?”

“As ever.”

“Good.” Mom claps her hands together to call everyone’s attention. She gives a brief welcome and introduction, thanking everyone for coming out into the cold night. Before handing things over to me, she says a blessing. The coven joins in the sacred words, calling the white magic to join our gathering and protect us from the darkness.

Mom and the others silently create a ring around the unlit pyre. Standing next to the stacked wood, I silently watch as they link hands to close the circle. I thank everyone for coming and for lending their powers to me to expel whatever curse has been put upon me.
I end with a favorite quote from Shakespeare.
“This above all: to thine own self be true And it must follow, as the night the day Thou canst not then be false to any man.”

Over the past weeks, I’ve come to the conclusion that roots of the curse lie within me. I’m the only one who can fix this.

Staring at the falling flakes, I imagine them disappearing until the air stills and the clouds part to expose the moon. The light is clear and bright enough for everyone to see what I do next.

I blow the warm air over my fingers. With my eyes closed, I imagine a blue flame forming between my palms. Protecting it with my cupped hands, I breathe life into it with my exhale. I can feel the growing heat against my skin before I crouch near the pyre.

The fire sparks and begins to burn, snapping as it consumes the kindling and dried needles of the pine branches. Surrounded by drifting embers, I inhale the sweet smoke. I shove my glasses to the crown of my head and carefully remove the brown contacts I’ve worn since a teen. In my palm they crumple and shrivel as I focus all of my frustration at them. When they’re the size of dried lentils, I fling them into the fire and toss my glasses in next. Instead of popping and melting, they disappear in a bright orange flash the size of a soccer ball.

A minute later the fire begins to wind down. The flames shorten and ash forms on the logs. Whatever heat the blaze gives off lessens and I feel the cold on my arms as I watch the dwindling fire. Unlike a regular bonfire, which takes hours to burn out, my magical flame and fireball have only lasted minutes. Nervous to face my mother, Madison, and the coven, I stare at the snow-covered ground and wonder if I feel different.

The scent of vanilla and a warm body flank my right. Tate comes to stand on my left. I inhale deeply and close my eyes, waiting for the urge to throttle my best friend for standing near Madison.