Chapter 3

Rory

A few weeks have passed, and the only thing that has been sustaining me is the thrill of working through some of the simpler spells in the book. As a lifelong example of Murphy's Law, I know better than to jump right into something complicated. With my luck, I'd end up sprouting an extra arm out of my forehead. It'd be handy , but not ideal.

Now, to the actual adult problems that don't require a pointy hat and a cauldron.

I've had four interviews, with no prospects from any of them. Despite recognizing that I'm not the smartest person on the planet, I am competent. I'm motivated, and kind, and a hard worker.

Overall, I like to think I'm a good person.

Just not good enough to get a job offer, as luck would have it.

The money I inherited from Granny will provide for me for a long time, but that's not its intended use. It's for an emergency, or to retire early, or to find an opportunity to travel.

Not because I can't land a job.

My days have become a never-ending cycle of gloom, and my nights are filled with self-pity. I've always considered myself an optimist, but now I'm trapped inside this funk that I can't seem to shake. Lazily flipping through the book, I stop on a spell that has caught my eye more times than I can count. Far more complex than anything else I've attempted at this point, I scan through the long list of steps again.

Aside from the fingernails, I've crafted a potion to grow plants faster, a simple draught to get rid of allergies, something to make my hair frizz-free, and a sleeping aid that I have yet to try. The outcome has been exceptional every time, with my sleek curls and lack of sneezing proof that I must be doing something right.

So, I must be capable of pulling this one off, right?

Right?

I sigh, closing the book and securing the lock. The metal of the key is cool against my skin as I slide it around my neck, hiding it beneath my sweater. Shadow curls up by my side, nuzzling against my hand until I pet her. "One more interview, little buddy. This will be the one, I just know it. This is where my luck changes."

Spoiler alert: this was not the one, and it was not where my luck changed.

As soon as my phone rings, a jolt of adrenaline rushes through my veins as I grab it, though I hold off answering until the third ring. Can't show my cards with desperation, even if I am dripping in it. "This is Rory," I say, forcing cheerfulness into my voice.

"Rory… this is Deborah Jones from PSO Securities."

"Ms. Jones, yes, how are you?"

"I'm great. Thank you for asking." There's an uncomfortable silence as I hear her take a deep breath, and in that moment, I know. "The reason for my call is that we've reached a decision for the position, and… well, I'm sorry to tell you we've gone another direction."

"Right…" I say, my voice a breathy, defeated thing. "I understand."

She hesitates before her volume lowers. "I am sorry, Rory. If it means anything at all, I was rooting for you."

"It does. Mean something, that is."

"Chin up, dear. What's meant to be will always find a way."

Bullshit .

That's one of those phrases people use when everything sucks, but they can't outright say it's terrible because it would be rude. Just say it! It really fucking sucks and you're going to have a shitty day and even shittier week now, and I can't do anything about it. Neither can you, really, so get over it.

That's at least the truth.

We hang up, and I slump into my seat, staring at the phone in my hand that I'm gripping like a dead man's switch. Agitated, my foot kicks impatiently beneath me, teetering on the edge of a decision that could possibly be a giant mistake.

"She's right, you know," I whisper to Shadow, who only tilts her head at me. My sight falls to the spellbook sitting on the table.

Mind made up, I charge over and steel my spine as I slide the key into the tiny padlock, twisting until the click tells me it's unlocked. The cover falls open and I flip towards the end, stopping when I find the page I'm searching for.

A Spell for Summoning Good Luck.

All hesitation is gone as I read the words again. I've studied it so many times it feels like I have it engraved in my memory, every word etched into my mind.

I nod, my conviction growing the longer I do it. "What's meant to be will always find a way."

Hair frizzy and eyes watering, I blink a few times to clear my vision from the smoke that billows around the kitchen like an early morning fog. This is the most intricate magic I've attempted… far more complicated than it looked at first glance.

Each step of the spell is meticulously timed, leaving me stuck waiting for step twelve to boil for exactly seventy-four minutes, stirring once every minute.

I've had to pee for an hour, but I can't leave for… I check the stopwatch ticking down on my phone. Sixteen minutes.

Another beep goes off and I swirl the wooden spoon through the mixture a single time as I restart my timer.

My eyes glide across the page, studying the remaining steps. The draught has to cool for an hour, and I'm in a minor panic about the directions that follow. In typical Rory fashion, I got too excited and failed to plan ahead. The timer sounds, and I stir again, using my sleeve to wipe my eyes as the smoke turns them scratchy and irritated.

When the final alert dings, I pull the concoction off the heat and jet into the bathroom, groaning as I relieve myself before hurrying up the stairs to the attic.

"Step thirteen… inscribe the rune on a space not less than four feet by four feet."

That doesn't sound that big, right?

Well, it is.

It's fucking huge and I'm an idiot for not doing this before I started.

Panic flutters in my belly as I realize that I only have fifty-four minutes left to get this right or all the work I've done over the past seven hours is a waste. Not to mention, I depleted my stores of ingredients that I have no way to replace.

I mean, where does one get Eye of Howler?

What is Eye of Howler?

What's a Howler?!

The attic is the reasonable place to do this, with the large, open space that's only covered by the rug. Dust particles mushroom into the air and tickle my nose as I grab one end of it, and I sneeze. After a clearing shake of my head, I glance down and freeze.

Crimson-painted markings peek out from the wooden floor underneath, and I roll the rug into a giant burrito, revealing the pattern. "No way," I whisper, shoving the rug aside and running to grab the spell book off the desk. I stare at the drawing on the page, and then back at the ground.

It's identical.

My eyes skim the circle, the swoops that move through, and the rough marks that line the edges. Back and forth, back and forth, I double, triple, then quadruple check, disbelief poking and prodding at my brain.

I don't get lucky.

Ever.

But apparently, this time… I did. The runes are a perfect match. Relief feuds with the nerves that swarm inside me like a hive of angry bees, and I'm jittery as I realize my last excuse has just flown out the window.

There's no backing out, not now. Not when life has thrown me this colossal bone, this irrefutable sign that has to mean I'm making the right choice.

It's destiny. Kismet.

I turn my attention back to the rune, letting my eyes slide over the alien design. It's old but appears intact because it's been covered over the years. "Does this mean Granny used this spell?" Shadow mewls from beside me, and I watch as she patters onto the rune.

My phone beeps and tells me I only have twenty minutes remaining to do this, or it all goes to bust. "Sugar!" I shout, sprinting downstairs to grab the potion from the kitchen.

I'm careful not to spill a single drop as I carry it up, my heart kicking double time in a dizzying staccato. After I gently place it on the desk, I pull the book out, reading the incantation a dozen more times. Five minutes remain on my timer, and as I set up the spell, the flutters in my belly amplify until I'm surprised I don't take flight.

The draught goes in the center of the circle, and the dried herbs and flowers are placed in their appropriate spots on the rune. A strange energy fills the room, the very air waves vibrating and dancing around me. It should scare me, should make me stop and pretend none of this ever happened, but it only pushes me further.

Shadow stands in the far corner of the attic, watching with careful eyes and ready to sprint away at a moment's notice. When the timer chimes, it's now or never.

I step forward to the base of the symbol with the spellbook in my hand. Clearing my throat, I force myself to annunciate past the pounding in my chest. "Da mihi…" Dust catches my nose, and I take a deep inhale, my eyes widening as I fight the tickle. "… carmen ad me…" My words come to an abrupt end as I clamp my mouth shut and place my finger over my nostrils, but it's too late to stop my body's reactions. "…felicem-aaachhoooo!"

Silence.

Deafening, ear-splitting silence.

The kind of too-quiet stillness that tells you that you aren't alone, even if you can't identify the danger. It's the type of calm when the birds and the insects have gone into hiding, knowing all too well that they're the prey and they need to run .

All at once, light flares from the rune on the ground, illuminating the room in red. It erupts from the drawn lines, not gradual like a sunrise, but immediate and violent like an explosion. Floors, walls, ceiling… every surface is painted in a blood-deep crimson.

"Okay," I sputter nervously, squinting my eyes against the onslaught of color, "that's normal, right? That's probably…"

The ground shakes so violently that I drop the spellbook, and the pan of draught vibrates with such ferocity that the liquid crashes over the sides of the pot like a tidal wave. "Oh, fuuuuu…" My words turn into a scream as the dried items around the circle burst into flames, dancing orange flickers with touches of purple at the center.

I grab the book and hug it to my chest just as a deep, dominating growl echoes through the room. A pair of eyes finds mine through the smoke and chaos, and terror freezes my limbs, rooting me in place.

Alright.

We've made it back to where this story started. If you need a quick recap, here it is:

Evil laughter, lots of screaming, a panic attack, and a solid dose of denial before crafting the terrible idea to run until my out-of-shape legs will no longer carry me. There was even some fantasy-filled plan to swim the Gulf of Mexico to get away from the chaos I've created.

My horribly-thought-out scheme was thwarted when I crashed into something.

Up to speed?

Great. Let's continue.

"Oof!" Air is forced from my lungs as I slam into an unyielding surface that's strangely soft, and I open my eyes to come face to face with… a set of very defined abs. "Oh, SUGAR !" I shout, as my eyes drift lower to land on an impressively large penis, just hanging out between a pair of muscular thighs.

"Sugar?" A deep voice rumbles, a tinge of amusement in the gravelly tone. "That's a new one. Can't say I've ever been called that before."

"A dream… it's a dream…" I mutter, still staring in front of me, which—don't judge—just happens to be the abnormally massive dick that's swinging in the breeze.

"Oh, my precious little human, I can be a dream alright." A chuckle sounds above me, coasting over my skin with its condescension, and I decide I've had enough of people laughing at me.

Defiant, I stare up… and up… and up, until I meet the eyes of the most beautiful creature I've ever seen in my life. Language abandons me as I take in the pale skin that covers his defined, lean muscles, his obsidian eyes, and sinful smirk. Then my gaze travels higher and catches on the thick head of raven hair that shines red in the fading lights. Two slightly curved horns poke through the locks, no more than six inches long.

When I catch his gaze once more, he has an eyebrow hiked as he watches me with open curiosity. "Who… who are you? What are you?" I finally force out, my voice raspy and strained in my confusion.

He's sleek like a jungle cat, movements graceful and eyes curious. His head tilts in a very feline expression as he moves a hand to his chin, rubbing over his square jaw as he says, "I'm the one who shall ask questions right now."

"Wha… what questions?"

A giant, radiant smile illuminates his stunning face, but there's an undertone of malice to it that unsettles me further. "Why have you summoned me, human?"