“But moving to Manhattan and finding a cheap loft to live in is what we’re supposed to be doing together after graduation,” Dina reminded me.
“Yes.” I felt numb. “I told Billy that. But he must think now that he and I are together . . .”
Dina looked heavenward and sighed. “Oh, Jess.”
“See?” Mark shook his head. “This is what I was trying to tell you nutjob witches. It’s great you wanted a date to Homecoming, Jess, but you went a little too far. Now the slob’s in love with you. More than just in love with you: he wants to marry you and fill you with baby Billies.”
“Oh, God.” I dropped my head down onto the tabletop. “What have I done?”
Dina patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe there’s a spell in Goody Fletcher’s book that will undo it.”
“And by the way,” Mark went on, polishing off his cannelloni, “there is no way you two are going to find a cheap loft in Manhattan. Those only exist in those dumb rom-coms that you love to watch. And I would know because my uncle Richie is a contractor on Staten Island.”
“Here, Jess.” Billy had come back. He slid a frozen Snickers bar as well as a can of Diet Coke in front of me. “I got you this as well as the soda. I know how much you love chocolate.”
I felt a wave of nausea sweep over me. It wasn’t the frozen Snickers, though. It was Billy, and what I’d done to him. This wasn’t what I’d intended. This wasn’t what I’d intended at all.
Oh, God. What had I done? And how was I going to fix it?
Dina was right: the book. There had to be a spell in Goody Fletcher’s book that would undo this mess. There just had to be!
Jessica
Boil together equal parts fountain water and pure honey. Add a little nutmeg and dressed ginger, along with the rind of half an orange or lemon (if one can be found). Let stand till lukewarm, then add three parts rum. All who drink in good cheer will be friends for life.
Goody Fletcher, Book of Useful Household Tips
“Wait,” Dina said over hot toddies that night on her brother’s front porch. “This guy wants you to what?”
“Implant the light into this girl,” I said. “And then guide and protect her. Because she’s the Bringer of Light.”
“What does any of that even mean?”
“How should I know?” I took a sip of my drink. “But the fate of West Harbor depends on it.”
“Well, screw that.” Dina—still as petite as she was in high school, but now brunette with blond highlights—sat cross-legged on the porch swing beside me. “Why doesn’t this Derrick just do it himself?”
“I told you, he can’t. Only I can do it, because I’m the Chosen One.”
“Yeah, about that. How do you even know any of this is legit? There isn’t a single guy on here who matches his description named Derrick Winters.” Dina waved her phone at me. “Not on any social media platform that I can find.”
“Not everyone is on social media, Dina. Especially witches.”
“Yeah, but this guy isn’t on Classmates.com or LinkedIn or anything. Did he not go to school? Has he never had a job?”
“Apparently this is his job,” I said. “Driving around, telling women their towns are in mortal peril, and that they’re the Chosen One.”
“I’m the Chosen One!” Dina’s seven-year-old nephew, Toby, out in the front yard, declared as he swung his light saber in the direction of his older brother, Daniel. “Stand down, villain!”
“You’re not the Chosen One,” Daniel scoffed, his own glowing plastic saber cutting a swathe of brilliant red light across the darkened lawn. “I am. Prepare to meet your doom.”
“Neither of you have been chosen for anything except bed,” their mother, Yasmin, declared as she came out onto the porch carrying a thermos containing more hot toddy, since our mugs had been running low. “Head on inside now. Your father’s waiting for you upstairs to help you brush your teeth and put on your pajamas.”
“Aw, Mom!” Both boys put up considerable resistance, but were eventually wrangled inside, leaving us in blissful quiet—for the moment, anyway.
“So let me get this straight.” Dina’s sister-in-law settled onto one of the cushioned wicker couches and pulled a faux fur blanket over her lap, since the autumn air had become more chilled than brisk once the sun went down. “You’re saying a wizard walked into your shop today and said the world was going to end if you didn’t find this little high school girl and implant the light into her? And you believe him?”
“Uh,” I said. Dina and I exchanged glances. Dina and Yasmin got along well—well enough that they’d taken over Dina’s dad’s old real estate law office together, right across the street from Enchantments, and adorably renamed it DiAngelo & DiAngelo, Sisters In Law.
But that didn’t mean book-smart but tenderhearted Armenian American Yasmin was a believer. She tolerated what she called our “little hobby,” but only because she seemed to view it as a harmless vestige from our school days together—like cheerleading, except that school spirit had been the one kind of spirit that had never held any interest for Dina and me.
“First of all, a male practitioner of witchcraft is a witch,” I said. “Not a wizard or a warlock. The word witch is gender neutral.”
“All right,” Yasmin said. “No need to get defensive.”
“And he didn’t say the world was going to end,” I went on. “Only West Harbor.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” Yasmin’s tone was mildly sarcastic. “But what does this male witch expect you to do? Just walk up to this girl and say, ‘Hi, hello, I’m the Chosen One, come with me if you want to live’?”
“It is hard to believe,” Dina said. “I’m not saying the stuff he said about the rift isn’t true. Obviously we’ve seen the flooding with our own eyes—and Mark’s wolf, if it even is a wolf, which I still doubt. Mark knows Italian food and cars, not wild dogs. But how does this guy know about our rift, especially if he isn’t affiliated with the WCW?”
I shrugged. “How would I know?”
“So why do you even trust him?”
“I . . .” I held my mug in both hands, letting the hot beverage inside thaw my chilled fingers as I remembered the look on Derrick’s face, so urgent and serious, as he’d spoken to me that afternoon in my office. But more than that, I remembered the shock of electric warmth that had gone through me when he’d touched my shoulder—and the oddly reassuring comfort of his sarcastic words: Other entities exist in the world besides the World Council of Witches. Entities that care as much as you do about saving this town from evil.
“I don’t know,” I said, finally. “I just do.”
“Great.” Dina pushed her foot against the porch railing, making the porch swing we were sitting on sway. “So you just have a feeling this guy is legit. A feeling that has nothing to do with those great big shoulders of his that Becca keeps talking about.”