Bewitched Page 5

  There’s only one way to find out. I lift the heart charm from my jewelry dish and tie it around my neck.

  “Red doesn’t really go with the bee thing, Maddy.” Sam wrinkles her nose. “Do you have to wear it tonight?”

  “Listen, I’ve given in and let you dress me up as a bee, I mean a bee-witch. Let me wear the necklace.”

  “If you insist.” She adjusts her corset and top hat. “Do you think Tate will like this?”

  “I have no idea, but he’s a guy, with eyes, so I think he’ll love it.”

  Sam’s costume is some sort of time-traveling, Steampunk, corset wearing hottie. She’s a badass milkmaid with her braids and the vintage style revolver strapped to her waist.

  I look like a bee. Wearing a hat. And a tutu. At least my legs look great. I should be happy I’m not a sexy praying mantis.

  * * *

  Jack-o’-lanterns and luminaries line the long driveway to the enormous stone mansion the Winthrops call a summer house. It’s a far cry from the two-bedroom bungalow my grandparents have on Cape Cod. Ghostly white forms hang in the trees and sway in the breeze. Shadowy figures spill out of the house onto the lawn and driveway. It’s impossible to identify anyone, given the non-existent light, fake smoke, and costumes. A pair of sexy black cats dash past us, squealing and holding their tails. Sam’s gaze meets mine, and even in the dark I can see her roll her eyes.

  “Where do you think Tate and Andrew are?” I ask as we approach the stone staircase leading up to the front door. “We’ll never find them.”

  “We just got here, don’t lose faith yet.” She takes my hand and leads me inside, where the crowd fills the dark, paneled grand foyer with a double staircase. Loud hip hop pulses from multiple speakers.

  “Let’s find the bar,” she shouts over the throbbing bassline.

  I allow myself to be led deeper into the maze of hallways, feeling the urge to leave a trail of breadcrumbs behind me to find my way out again. We pass open doors into rooms that might be called studies or dens, each filled with a random assortment of costumed partygoers. Sexy bunnies chat up rotting zombies while vampire doctors flirt with sexy nurses.

  I spy Hamilton dressed as a pimp, complete with hideous purple zebra pimp hat. Gross. If this love spell and magic thing does really work, I plan to buy a spell to give him boils. Or make his dick shrivel up smaller, if that’s even possible. He definitely doesn’t have the cock to back up his cocky attitude.

  After asking a hobbit about the bar, we step outside on a large back terrace overlooking the dark beach and black water beyond. A huge bar—filled with bizarre looking jars of smoking potions—stands off to the left. The crowd is only a few people deep when we join the line. I scan the space for a familiar tall, lanky form while Sam chats up a sexy Tardis in line behind us. Still no sign of our hosts.

  “What’s your potion tonight?” a familiar voice asks me.

  My head whips around so fast my witch’s hat almost flies off. Andrew stands behind the bar in a suit and trench coat.

  “Maddy?”

  “Andrew? Or should I say, Dr. Who?”

  “Who?” Sam asks.

  “He’s Doctor Who.” The sexy Tardis scoffs at us while tilting her cleavage in Andrew’s direction. The fact she has cleavage while dressed as a blue British telephone booth earns her bonus points for costume execution.

  Andrew’s eyes widen before he averts his gaze as fast as possible.

  “I heard you the first time and that’s why I asked who?” Sam says.

  “He’s Who,” I reply.

  “Who?”

  “I’m Who.” Andrew laughs.

  Sam grumbles about inside jokes.

  “Sam, his costume is Doctor Who, from the show of the same name,” I explain.

  Sam’s eyes ping-pong between us like she’s watching a tennis match. “Oh, one of those geeky shows Maddy watches. Explains the tweed coat.”

  Andrew scowls at her. He focuses on me with a perplexed tilt of his head. “And what are you? A sexy bee?” His lips curl with a smile.

  “Ugh, no. I’m—”

  “She’s bewitched!” Sam blurts out, still extremely pleased with her idea.

  Andrew grins and leans across the bar. I mirror him, stepping closer so he can speak directly in my ear. I may have hip-checked the Tardis out of the way on accident. Oops.

  “You’ve bewitched me, heart and soul.” He quotes Mr. Darcy.

  I nearly swoon, and in fact do sway on my ridiculously high heels. I slowly blink a few times.

  He grins at my reaction, sharing our secret moment, before standing to his full height. Bells tinkle and my eyes seek out their source, but I can’t find it.

  Instead, I say the first thing that comes to mind, “Your eyes are different. They’re blue. Or gray.” They remind me of someone else’s eyes, but in my “ohmygod he quoted Darcy stupor” I can’t figure out whose.

  He stares at me for a few seconds. “They’re contacts. You like?” He bats his ridiculously long, dark lashes, rendering me speechless again for a moment.

  “Maddy?” he asks.

  I give him a shy smile. “I do, they’re very pretty, but I miss your glasses.”

  “Good to know.” He nods at me, another smile playing at his lips. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, what’s your potion?” He points at the labels on a row of enormous glass jars.

  Number nine is pink and much less scary than the black number thirteen or the milky-green number six. “Number nine, please.”

  “Excellent choice.” Tate appears from out of nowhere. He’s dressed in all black with a long black cape; his dreads are pulled back and tucked under a tall top hat. “The love potion.”

  My mouth drops open. Sam snickers beside me before ordering the same thing. Tate hands us both smoking glasses of pink liquid, which tastes like strawberries.

  While Sam and Tate chat, Andrew serves drinks to a teen wolf and a fairy. I watch him and play with my heart charm. If I take it off now and dropped it, would it seal my fate with Andrew? Do I want him to fall in love with me because of a spell or potion? Will it even count as real love?

  Before I can dwell, Sam tugs me away to the dance floor. I wave to Andrew before the crowd swallows us. The music is louder inside and I lose myself to the beat. We dance our way into the center of the crowded dance floor in what looks like a dining room without its furniture. I grab Sam’s hands and raise our arms in the air, giggling together as we bump hips. People jostle us, causing us to break apart. A monkey man spins Sam around, and then gives her his banana. I laugh so hard at his antics, I bend to catch my breath … and feel the ribbon at my neck loosen and give way before it falls to the floor.

  Oh, no.

  The heart.

  I freeze and search the crowd, holding my breath, wishing Andrew would be standing in front of me. Instead, my worst fear walks toward me. A purple zebra pimp hat moves through the crowd in our direction. Blond hair and brown eyes come into focus. Hamilton winks at me, licking his lips in what I assume is supposed to be a sexy gesture. It’s not.

  No. No. No.

  I close my eyes and spin around, stumbling when I meet with the solid wall of someone’s chest. A pair of hands wrap around my hips, steadying me.

  I gasp and open my eyes to meet pale blue ones, and a lopsided smile.

  “Hi.” I exhale in relief.

  Andrew grabs my hand, pulling me away from the dance floor and Hamilton. Outside he keeps walking past the terrace, leading me down a stone path to the beach.

  “My heart!” I exclaim, stopping in the middle of the path.

  “What?”

  “I lost my heart pendant on the dance floor. I should go find it.”

  “You’ll never find it in the crowd.”

  I frown as tears wet my eyes. I can’t believe I’m this upset over dropping the heart in front of Hamilton.

  He presses his index finger to my bottom lip. “It’s not important, is it?”

  The charm itself isn’
t worth anything, but how can I confess to him how important it is to find it—or even more important, he find it, for the love spell to be completed.

  He studies me for a minute before cupping my cheek.

  I want to kiss him again—more than I want to find the heart, even more than I care about superstitious hocus-pocus magic. I lean forward and press my lips to his.

  He responds by wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer. With my heels, the height difference is much less and I can easily reach my hands into his hair. His open coat forms a cocoon around us when he brushes his lips against mine. I exhale a soft sigh.

  We kiss like no one can see us, like we are the last two people alive, or the first people ever to fall in love. We kiss like we’re falling in love.

  My head spins as the earth shifts beneath my feet. Strong arms steady me. Unable to catch my breath, I break off the kiss, nuzzling my nose in his neck.

  This is falling in love.

  “Madison,” he whispers into my hair.

  “Mmm.”

  “I have to tell you something.”

  “Okay.” I lift my head to meet his gaze.

  His thumbs stroke my cheeks while he searches my eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “I know about the love spell.”

  Eight

  “What?” I try to pull away from him, but he drops his arm around my waist to hold me in place. Therefore, all I achieve is bending backward and grinding my hips against him.

  Oh. Spell or no spell, Andrew likes me. Really likes me.

  I have hard evidence … against my stomach. When he moans and pulls his hips away, I pout a little.

  “The spell?” he reminds me.

  Oh, right. The spell.

  “I don’t even believe in magic. It was kind of a joke, and I lost the heart pendant. My true love was supposed to find it when it dropped, but you didn’t. Then I saw Hamilton first. So it didn’t work,” I babble.

  Andrew stills and goes silent.

  I rewind what I’ve said. Not believing in magic, joke, not working … true love … him.

  Closing my eyes, I wish for a witch to fly by on a broom and take me away. The beach and the icy cold water sit a few yards away. A short run and I could throw myself into the sea. A dramatic, yet perfect ending to this whole witchcraft escapade. Forget death by chocolate or Andrew, I’ll go with the classic witch ending: drowning.

  His deep voice rumbles with suppressed amusement and interrupts my maudlin thoughts.

  “Madison, open your eyes.”

  I open one eye, and then slowly the other.

  Andrew smiles at me. “Even if you don’t believe in magic, I do.”

  “You do?”

  He nods. “Of course.”

  “Really?”

  “Doubts the girl who used a love spell on me.” He chuckles and pecks a kiss on my lips. “If you didn’t believe, just a little, why are you worried about the spell working or not working?”

  He has me there. “I, um.” I pause and suck in a deep breath to buy some time. “If it worked, then you don’t really like me, you’re just enchanted. Or whatever you call it. And if it didn’t work, then I’m embarrassed, and a fool.”

  “What if I told you it didn’t work, but I’m still enchanted, although I prefer the word bewitched.”

  Bewitched. My skin tingles and warms.

  “Walk with me? I want to show you something.” He entwines his fingers with mine and gently pulls me down the path.

  I follow. Of course.

  The beach is quiet except for small waves slapping against the rocky shore. Sand and rocks are madness with these heels, so I remove them and walk barefoot over the cold, wet sand. A large shadow looms down the beach. As we get closer, I realize it’s a pile of wood for a bonfire.

  “Is this the midnight surprise?” I circle the pyre.

  “It is. Tonight’s Samhain as well as Halloween. Do you know about it?” He trails behind me, but at a distance.

  “Sam and Sarah told me a little. It’s the night when the threshold between worlds gets thinner and magic is easier.”

  “Sarah?” He abruptly stops walking.

  I pause, too, and face him. “Sarah, at The Spelling B.”

  He smirks and nods. “I should have known.”

  “Known what?” I step closer. His eyes almost glow in the light from the sliver of moon above the bay. “Your contacts remind me of her eyes.”

  “How odd.” He glances down at his watch. “I’ll explain everything in a minute.”

  With a look over his shoulder toward the house, he crouches near the wood. He holds his hands in front of him, and a spark hits the kindling. I never see the match. Within seconds, a blue flame spreads through the stack before transforming into a warm blaze. Flames reach toward the sky.

  “I’ve never seen a bonfire ignite so fast,” I say in awe. “How did you do that?”

  He shrugs and stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets.

  “Seriously, how did you do that? Lighter fluid? I didn’t even see you use a lighter.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “What? That’s impossible.”

  “Not if you believe in magic.”

  I am utterly, completely, and entirely confused.

  “Andrew?”

  “Uh huh.” He steps closer and grabs my hips above my tutu.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Hmm … well, if you don’t believe in magic, nothing. Just two people standing near a bonfire.”

  “A bonfire you lit with your hands.”

  “Not if you don’t believe.”

  “But I saw it with my own eyes.”

  “Appearances can be deliberately deceiving.”

  “You’re speaking in riddles.”

  “I’m hoping you’ll catch on without me having to spell it out for you.” He chuckles at his pun and kisses me again.

  I allow myself to fall into the kiss, but my mind keeps spinning with questions. Andrew Wildes isn’t what he seems.

  Something clicks.

  “You’re not wearing contacts tonight, are you?”

  I can feel his lips curl into a small smile against my cheek.

  “I think you’re catching on.” As he speaks, his scruff rubs against my skin.

  “Glasses?”

  “Fake lenses.” A kiss to my neck.

  My forehead creases.

  He kisses the wrinkles.

  “Wait. Contacts and fake lenses?”

  He nods, or at least dips his chin in the beginning of a nod. His glacial blue eyes pierce through me. I shiver with the powerful chill of his stare.

  “All part of the illusion.”

  “At first we dress to deceive?” I ask. When I cross my arms, my wings tighten at my shoulders. This conversation is surreal enough beyond the fact it’s happening while I’m dressed like a bee. “The quiet, loner who no one notices.”

  He raises one shoulder in response.

  “But why?”

  “Maybe I didn’t want to be who everyone expects me to be.”

  “Because you’re from here.” I’m still missing something.

  “And my mom.”

  I gasp as the pieces fall into place like a puzzle coming together. “Your mom is Sarah at The Spelling Bee!”

  “The lady is on to something.” He gestures for me to keep going.

  “Your mom is the most powerful witch in Salem.”

  “Ding, ding,” he say flatly.

  “Sam told me Sarah is a real witch.” I stop myself and gape at him. “Does that mean …”

  “I’m a witch.”

  It isn’t a question.

  “You’re a witch?”

  He nods.

  I nod. “So the fire?”

  He wiggles his fingers in front of me.

  “And the love spell?”

  His laughter is soft, but heartfelt. “The peppercorns made me suspicious. When I saw your heart pendant tonight, I recognized it from my mom’s shop
.”

  My cheeks heat, and not from the heat of the bonfire. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Don’t be.” He kisses me again. “Those spells don’t work.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It’s against coven rules to influence emotions.”

  “Yet okay for us mere mortals to think they do?”

  “It’s all about the power of suggestion.” He looks smug.

  “So, according to you, the spell didn’t work?”

  “Right.”

  “But you’re kissing me.”

  “Not right now I’m not.” He kisses the corner of my mouth. “Or now.” He kisses the other corner, then smiles against my cheek.

  I grin back.

  “I like you, Madison. A lot. I have since you were a freshman.”

  I scrunch up my nose. “I didn’t know you then.” I stop. “Oh. The boy no one notices.”

  He nods, watching me carefully with a guarded expression.

  “A bio-chem major in an English lit seminar?”

  He shrugs. “I honestly like to read, but maybe I found out you’d be in Philips’ class.”

  “Magic?”

  “Friend works in the registrar’s office.”

  “Any other magic I should know about?”

  He stares down at his feet. “Maybe.”

  I use my index finger to tip up his chin.

  He barely meets my eyes. “Hamilton’s chair didn’t fall on its own.”

  My eyebrows touch my hairline. “I thought I wished that!”

  “You kind of did. I could read your face and helped a little.”

  “When else?”

  “The rain when you wouldn’t accept my umbrella.”

  “You can control the weather?”

  He nods. “Not in the grand scheme of things, but temporarily.”

  “And Sam canceling coffee?”

  Pressing his lips together, he shakes his head. “A happy coincidence. I was working on something, but didn’t need to use it.”

  “So you’re a real witch.”

  His grin returns. “I am. And you’re a Bradbury girl.”

  Sarah’s strange words echoed in my head. A brown-haired Bradbury girl.

  “I am.” I give him a quizzical look.

  “Mary Bradbury survived the Salem witch trials, but Sarah Wildes didn’t. There’s a long history between our families. And…” He pauses and exhales. “My mother saw you coming into my life two years ago.”