September 13, Friday

I'D JUST settled onto the porch swing to inspect the gathered ingredients for the spell when my phone rang. My mother's imperious face filled the screen, and I sighed deeply before answering.

"Hi, Mom."

"Josephine, what the fuck is going on with that twat-waffle ex of yours?"

I winced. "Hello to you too, Mother. I'm fine, thanks for asking."

"Don't be cute. I'm still seeing posts where Curtis claims he wrote your last book. Have you contacted an attorney to sue his lying arse?"

I sank deeper into the swing. "No, I haven't. I was hoping it would blow over."

"Blow over?" My mother's voice rose an octave. "Darling, scandals like this don't blow over, they fucking explode. You need to nip this in the bud before it gets any worse."

"I know, I know. It's just... complicated."

"What's so fucking complicated about it? He's lying, you're not."

I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache coming on. "Except I don't have proof I wrote the book. My old laptop died, remember?"

"Christ on a cracker, Josephine, have you heard of backups? The cloud? How could you be so careless?"

I didn't know, so I didn't respond.

She sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll sic my attorney on him. This could blow back on me too, you know. Can't have people thinking I raised a fraud."

Her words stung, even though I knew she didn't mean them to. "Mom, you don't have to—"

"Of course I do. Someone has to clean up this mess." She paused, and I could practically hear her shaking her head. "You have such piss-poor taste in men, darling."

Remorse flooded my chest. "I really thought he was different."

"Well, lesson fucking learned, I hope. My attorney will be in touch. Try not to bollocks anything else up in the meantime, alright?"

"Yes, Mother."

After we hung up, I sat there for a long moment, emotions swirling inside me. On one hand, I was touched that my mother was willing to help, in her own brusque way. On the other, her words had reopened old wounds, reminding me of just how spectacularly I'd failed.

I surveyed the collection of ingredients spread on a small table. The idea of the curse suddenly seemed both more real and more necessary than ever.

Maybe a tag-team approach wouldn't be such a bad idea. Hit Curtis with both worldly and otherworldly justice. If one didn't work, maybe the other would.