Chapter Sixteen

6.30 a.m.: sunday 31 october

Harwich, England

129 miles and 8 hours and 30 minutes until the wedding

Kay and Harry groaned simultaneously when his phone alarm went off a few hours later. Sadly, not because of shared pleasure this time.

‘Nooo,' she mumbled, turning her face into Harry's shoulder. His stubble prickled lightly against her scalp and her glasses bent in that strangely fluid way they had. Even if they weren't going to break, they could still get dislodged, so she lifted her head and tried to push herself up onto one elbow, getting enough room to straighten them. Both she and Harry were in exactly the same positions they'd fallen asleep in. Or passed out in.

Harry looked even more edible than he had yesterday. Thoroughly messy bedhead and lips pink from kisses. He cracked one eye open, then blinked until the other was able to join in, bright blue spearing her, like she'd opened the curtains on a glorious summer morning.

‘Hi.' His voice was all gravel, rasping over her nerve endings, sending goosebumps down her spine.

‘Hi.'

The morning after. Why did this never get any easier? It probably helped if you weren't still naked and entwined. She wrapped a bit of blanket around her and moved back as far as she could without stealing all the covers from him.

‘We were going to talk,' he said.

But then they'd had sex instead. Very sensible decision there.

His phone alarm bleeped incessantly as background music, a stark reminder that she was still running against a clock to get to Joe's wedding. The sea seemed much calmer than the night before and, with any luck, the storm had passed from England and they wouldn't have any more trouble getting home. Provided she wasn't the bringer of all the bad weather.

Why did this all have to be happening at the same time? She felt like Leon's car last night, spinning her wheels, desperately trying to get traction.

‘We still can,' she said, attempting to put her metaphorical big-girl panties on, because she had no clue where her actual underwear was. She squeezed her eyes shut hard enough to make starbursts bloom in her vision and took a deep breath. ‘But the ferry will be docking soon, we need to get to the car.'

‘I know.' She felt his stomach lift and fall, like he was taking a deep breath. ‘I'll go grab my bag so we can get you something to wear. You just stay wrapped up warm. I'll be ten minutes.'

‘Thanks,' she said weakly and shoved her head into the pillow so she didn't torture herself with the sight of him getting dressed. Not that it helped, she could still see flashbacks of his skin in her mind, freckles dipping into curves of muscle as they flexed over her. Her whole body flashed hot with the memory. Oh sweet, sweet, Goddess, it had been good . And she hadn't got her mouth on nearly enough of him …

When she heard the door click shut, she crawled out of her cave and sent stern words to all her exhausted – and horny – limbs that they needed to move. Wrapping the blanket around her like a toga, she climbed down from the bunk and found Harry had gathered her clothes on the chair next to her tote, folding them neatly, before leaving. Her heart gave a little kick before she had several more stern words with herself – these ones about setting the bar so low for men to impress.

She riffled in her bag for her toothbrush, making use of the sink in the corner of the room, and was just about to drop the blanket and get reluctantly back into her dirty clothes when the door opened again.

‘That was quick.' She clutched at the blanket around her and Harry paused, his eyes roving from her head to her bare toes. She was nothing but a lumpy swath of fabric but his look made her flush.

He cleared his throat and closed the door behind him again, bringing his bag in. He placed it next to hers on the chair and stripped off his coat and shirt from last night, grabbing the maroon jumper from Friday to swap into. For dirty laundry, it smelt annoyingly fresh. That was the reason her mouth was watering. Definitely that. Not the sight of his stomach muscles tightening as he pulled the jumper on.

‘You refreshed your clothes with magic already,' she thought out loud.

‘It's a habit. I do it whenever I pack. Really saves on the washing when you get home. I can do the same to yours.' His eyes fell on the pile of clothes and Kay's cheeks flamed at the sight of her limp knickers.

‘You are not cleaning my underwear.' She grabbed the offending pants with one hand, holding the blanket in place with the other, and stuffed them inside her bag. ‘I'd rather die.'

‘Touch dramatic.' He laughed and his mouth kicked up at the corner. ‘You didn't mind me handling your knickers last night.'

‘That was very, very different.' She bit her lip, trying not to grin quite so ridiculously at the flirtatious comment. She couldn't help that she liked having signs he was still interested in her. That possibly it wasn't just a one-night stand in his mind. Even though she didn't know whether she needed it to be for her.

Egos were delicate and dangerous things.

‘I'd appreciate you doing the spell on the rest of my clothes though please … I'll go commando.'

His gaze travelled down her body again, before he swallowed and took the clothes over to the sink, sprinkling water and magical words over each item, before returning them to her, dry. He added the white shirt he'd worn under his jumper on Friday, too.

‘Sorry I can't make it smaller for you or fix your jumper. It's not something I've ever bothered to learn.'

She took them and smiled. ‘That's OK, it's actually reassuring to know you are not the perfect witch specimen.'

‘Goddess, Kay, I'm so far from it,' he said, so grimly, her smile faltered.

‘I was only teasing.'

‘I know but … sometimes it feels like I'm always reading from the wrong grimoire, you know?'

She snorted. ‘Yeah, funnily enough, I am familiar with that feeling.'

He raised a rueful eyebrow at her. ‘But you don't go about putting lightening spells on luggage, or influencing salesmen, thinking you're doing the best without fully considering the consequences and it ends up causing more problems.'

No, she just set fire to things. But she didn't try to argue it with him. He was making a different point … and beating himself up again. They made quite a pair, with him always thinking he wielded his magic in the wrong way, and her, sure that her magic was cursed.

She reached out for his arm, involuntarily. ‘Sounds like a Chaotic Good characteristic.'

‘Chaotic Good?' he scoffed. ‘I'm not exactly Robin Hood.'

‘And I'm not exactly a Dungeons and Dragons expert.'

He smiled. ‘Well, before you learn any better, I'll take it. We'd balance each other out quite well then.' Her heartbeat stuttered and a loaded silence settled between them, until Harry looked away. ‘I'll just wash up while you get dressed, unless you'd like me to step out?'

She shook her head but waited until he was brushing his teeth over by the sink before donning the clothes at superhero-in-a-phone-box speed, sitting on the edge of the bottom bunk. When he turned back around, she was standing, tying the unbuttoned bottom half of his shirt in a knot at her waist to avoid it coming down to her knees. He bit his lip and she knew exactly how he was feeling. She didn't need to remove her glasses to know there was a bond of sexual tension snapping between them … but also a whole lot of baggage.

It would be too easy to give into what her body craved without thinking about the consequences. Everything had changed so quickly. She wasn't even supposed to want to get involved with an influencer. She knew that it made for messy relationships.

It wasn't as if she even knew if he wanted more than something physical.

And none of this weekend was supposed to be about her love life at all. Her brother was getting married. At some point today, she was supposed to put a bridesmaid dress on, get her hair and make-up done, and walk down an aisle before her soon-to-be sister-in-law. All eyes briefly on her as she tried not to cause an inadvertent magical mishap. Depending on what she chose to believe, either the last one she'd had was when she'd accidentally broken the sofa bed in Prague … or when she called a storm down upon them in the North Sea. In the calmer light of day, that did seem a lot less likely.

No time to think about that, though. She still had to get to the wedding before she started worrying about whether she was going to wreck it or not.

‘Ready?' Harry asked, grabbing his duffel, and then holding out her coat for her.

Kay let him help her put it on, doing her best to ignore the way he smoothed his hands down from her shoulders to her arms, the heat of him behind her back, making her knees weak. ‘As I'll ever be.'

England was a mess. That much Kay could tell as they drove out of the port in the weak grey light of the morning. There were fallen trees, debris, broken windows, and tiles missing from houses. The wind hadn't dropped fully yet and the rain continued to fall in a steady stream, neither heavy nor light, just the kind that made everything endlessly drenched.

It suited her state of mind. She'd left England last week with a clear purpose and a black and white conviction about the past. Now, it seemed she barely knew herself, let alone which way was up.

She'd offered to drive, but Harry had insisted he didn't mind. That he wasn't a great passenger. She wasn't sure why, but it didn't exactly ring true to her. She got the impression he needed to keep moving, like he had in Dusseldorf when he'd wanted to walk to the train station. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his shoulders bunched, and despite what they'd said about talking about things, he was having to concentrate on the diversions that were cropping up and she was trying not worry about how it was impacting their ETA. Or what exactly she was going to say if they ever did talk about what was happening between them.

She turned on the radio, filling the silence with music, and then checked the messages on her phone.

The wedding WhatsApp group was full of photos from last night's wedding rehearsal dinner. It had taken place at the posh restaurant on the edge of the village, and from the photos and the joking comments, it looked like the bad weather had cut the power intermittently, leaving them using candles and flashlights on occasion. Kay was sure that wouldn't normally be permitted, but since her dad had helped the owners focus themselves to get the restaurant off the ground, she supposed they'd done their best to keep the party going for them. The result looked atmospheric and memorable. Her eyes stung for a moment at having missed it.

There were lots of pictures of Joe and Sandy looking adorable in the warm glow of candles and Sandy's other bridesmaids got a lot of attention too, which Kay didn't find surprising since it was Joe's best man who'd taken on the role of cameraman and he obviously fancied the pants off of at least one of them. Probably Chelsea, a knock-out blonde Kay had met at the hen do, who could flirt at gold-medal standard.

There were no pictures of her mother. She was sure she wouldn't have backed out of going, just because Kay wasn't there. Guilt needled at her, but no – she'd done everything she could to make it.

Shaking her head, she tapped out a message to tell them all she was back in the country and on her way. A couple of responses with cheering and confetti emojis came through. She was just about to put her phone away in her bag again when it started ringing.

Her eyebrows lifted as she saw Sandy's name on her display. They got along well – Sandy was a lovely person – but it was rare for her to call Kay. And given that this was her wedding day, it didn't bode well.

‘Hey, bride-to-be,' Kay answered brightly, turning the radio down slightly and hoping that it wasn't completely the wrong thing to say. How likely was it that a bride would call the groom's sister if she was having second thoughts? Ordinarily, probably not – but Kay could read emotional bonds, exactly the kind of gift you might ask someone to use if you were worried about the strength of your potential husband's feelings.

‘Hey,' Sandy's voice was so clearly waterlogged from tears, Kay found herself sending a look of panic towards Harry. He sensed it almost immediately, tilting his head towards her, his lips pressing together before he had to turn his concentration back to the road.

Despite obviously being on the verge of some kind of emotional breakdown, Sandy demonstrated her loveliness by first asking Kay if she was all right after all her travelling woes. Once Kay had confirmed she was, Sandy carried on.

‘That's great. I'm sorry if you've been through so much stress getting back in time for the wedding, though … I'm not sure it's going to happen.'

‘Why not? What's wrong?'

‘It's the venue. A tree came down in the storm and caved in part of the roof and one of the windows.'

‘In the rooms you'd be using?'

Kay knew the place. It was a big old building on pretty grounds about half an hour outside of the village. Typically, they hosted two weddings at a time there – one wing each – with the ceremonies taking place in one room and then a meal and the reception afterwards in one of the larger ballrooms.

‘That's what I asked, but it doesn't matter – the building is unsafe. They can't have the electricity on, it's a mess.' Sandy broke off to start sniffling.

‘Oh no.' Kay sat up further in her seat, as the desire to give Sandy a hug filled her. ‘Is there another place you can go to?'

‘Joe and your parents are ringing around all the venues closest to us to try to organise something, but, honestly, how likely is it at such short notice? And we can't really afford to pay for a whole other venue and the staff there, if they don't let us bring the catering firms we'd hired. It's taken months to plan this wedding – and we were keeping it fairly modest—' She sobbed again. ‘The easiest thing would be to fix the problems at the venue, wouldn't it? Get it safe again?'

‘I suppose so …' Kay said slowly, figuring they were getting to the crux of why she had been called, though she wasn't sure how she was meant to help with it. ‘But I'm guessing builders and electricians are going to be just as difficult to get hold of today, with all the damage from the storm.'

‘Do we need builders and electricians, though? What about … witches?'

‘Ohh, I see.' Kay pushed her hair back from her face. ‘That's … not as easy as it sounds, Sandy. I know it can seem like magic can fix everything, but first we'd have to find enough witches with the right affinities, and then how would we explain them coming in to do work on a property in a few hours that would ordinarily take days or even weeks?'

‘Couldn't someone, you know, just hypnotise the people at the building to forget the damage even happened?'

‘Wiping people's memories isn't as simple as that.'

‘Isn't that what happens in the village when a non-magical person sees something they shouldn't?'

‘Er … no. Not really. It's deflected. Influence is used to convince them they were mistaken in what they'd seen – not that it didn't happen altogether. People can be convinced to reconstruct a memory slightly … but it's not like plucking a photo from an album. Even if a witch could do something close to it, it's not easy or safe or … fair, Sandy,' Kay said softly.

Harry looked over at her again, his brow knitting together, and she blushed a little at explaining in front of him how the protective magic of Biddicote worked, when truly she'd only just learned the extent of it last night. Maybe she was getting it all wrong, but that was how the witches of Biddicote had always understood it.

‘That's what your dad said.' Sandy took a shaky breath and Kay blinked at the surprise of her and her father being on the same page. ‘I thought magic would be a bit more useful than it is, frankly. If it can't fix things like this, what good is it?'

‘Oh Goddess, Sandy, I understand how you feel, believe me,' Kay admitted, even though she'd definitely seen more of the benefits over the last couple of days, and even missed using her own, on occasion. Strange to miss something that she'd always had the power to use, if she'd really wanted to, but had chosen not to. ‘Sadly, magic isn't this superpower that can eradicate all the difficulties in life. Witches are still just people, with a slightly different skill set, that can bring as many problems as it fixes. We just have to try to do our best.'

‘I know,' Sandy sighed. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘You don't have to be sorry. But we'll fix this for you. We will.'

‘How? We've called nearly every wedding venue in the southeast and had no luck. Unless we're going to start knocking on doors, I don't see how we're going to make it happen.'

‘We'll think of something. I'll be with you all by eleven o'clock, I should think, OK?'

Sandy thanked her, genuine but downhearted, and Kay hung up.

‘What's wrong?' Harry asked, straight away.

She sighed, sliding back down in her seat, and explaining.

He listened and then went quiet for a moment, his eyes still scanning the road. The windscreen wipers worked back and forth against the sheets of rain, the repeated hush followed by a rubbery scrape pressing at her nerves. Then Harry spoke again. ‘How many guests are there going to be?'

‘About fifty at the service and just over a hundred at the reception, I think. Why? Have you got an idea for somewhere else they can have it?'

He nodded slowly, tapping his index finger at the top of the steering wheel. ‘Maybe … I could ask my parents if they could use the Hall.'

‘Aren't you having an event for Samhain?'

‘No. We haven't done any of the festivals for years.' He straightened his arm, pushing his shoulders back against his seat. ‘My dad's health isn't good. That's why I'm living back at home. Have been for a while.'

Kay's mouth opened. ‘What's wrong with him?' She shook her head at her own bluntness. ‘If you don't mind me asking.'

‘We're not sure exactly.' He shifted again, this time gripping the gearstick. ‘It seems to be respiratory, but none of the healers – or normal doctors – can make a difference.'

A weight pressed on her chest, like someone was doing compressions on her, as all of his stress to get home began to make sense to her. As well as Leon's comments about Harry not travelling far from Ashworth Hall for a long time because of his dad. ‘I'm sorry. I didn't realise.'

‘I know.' He glanced at her quickly, gave her a slight smile, and it skewered her straight in the heart.

She should have known. If she hadn't been nursing her own bruised feelings for so long, if her mum hadn't wrapped her up in cotton wool – she would have known. She would have known that he and Joe were still friends, that his dad was ill and Ashworth Hall had closed its doors. It might not have made her capable of being happy to see him when they had bumped into each other in Prague, because he had still owed her an apology for pushing her away so abruptly and trying to influence her, but maybe she wouldn't have been as hostile.

‘I wish I'd known,' she admitted.

‘I wish it wasn't happening,' he replied quietly, like he thought she was criticising him for not bringing up the painful subject. Sure, there had been opportunities, but there had also been a lot going on, and a lot of mercurial moods between the two of them.

‘I'm sorry,' she said again.

‘You're not a mind reader, Kay.' He raised his eyebrows and forced a bigger smile at her. ‘Are you?'

‘No. Thank Mother Nature.' She laughed weakly, appreciating he was trying to lighten the mood. ‘It's really kind of you to offer the use of the Hall, but won't it disturb your dad?'

‘I don't know. I don't think so. It's a big house and he's bedridden these days.' He cleared his throat. ‘We've even got a licence. My mum dabbled in hosting weddings when I moved back and we thought things might improve.'

Kay chewed on the edge of her thumbnail, still trying to picture Adrian Ashworth, the tall, commanding witch with a voice that could make puppets of people, unable to get out of bed. ‘Are you sure, Harry? It sounds like too much to ask.'

‘That house was made for witches and their non-magical friends and family to gather and celebrate together. And if my dad isn't up to it, my mum will say, I promise you. But I can at least ask the question, can't I? I want to.'

Well, that didn't really leave her with much room to argue, did it? And it wasn't really her place anyway. He knew his situation at home better than her, and the favour wouldn't be for her, it would be for Joe and Sandy.

‘Thank you.' She reached over and put her hand over his on the gearstick. He twisted his wrist so he could lace his fingers through hers and lift it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. Her stomach flipped over, like a turtle on its back kicking its legs, desperate to get upright again. She inhaled sharply, trying to push the sensation away, and a violent squeaking filled the quiet of the car, as the windscreen wipers started moving at double speed.

Harry let go of her to fiddle with the settings, but – of course – it made no difference.

‘It's me.' She gave a small moan, pulling up the collar of the shirt he'd given her so she could hide her face.

‘Doing that to the windscreen wipers?'

‘Yes. It's my magic shooting off and doing stupid things again.'

‘Well, that's … interesting,' he said, and she could hear the laughter in his voice.

‘Is it?' She emerged slightly from the collar and raised an eyebrow at him.

‘You told me the car would explode if you had an episode,' he deadpanned. ‘Super dry windows is not exactly a hurricane, is it? Frankly, I was expecting something a bit more destructive. Where's my Galadriel experience?'

‘Shut up, or I'll trap you in a bed again.'

He caught her in his gaze, eyes sparkling with laughter and heat. ‘Kayla Hendrix, you can trap me in a bed anytime.'

She flushed, a livewire feeling shooting through her when he said her name like that. ‘I meant by the ankle.'

‘Well, you have more knowledge of that area, but I'm very open to exploring it with you.'

Her laugh erupted from her, and the wide smile on his face in response was everything, filling her with such a sweet lightness; she almost thought she would see it glowing from her skin if she looked in the mirror.

She watched the windscreen wipers, moving at a frenzied pace, and instead of trying to shut it down, she simply waited. Recognising the excess magic crackling from her, but not trying to bury it, feeling her magic flow … and then settle.

They made it to London without too much delay despite more diversions around flooding and fallen trees. The most frustrating part was trying to find a parking space near her flat, but that was to do with it being London, rather than the weather.

Kay took the umbrella, leaving Harry in the car to make the call to his mum, hurrying through streets that looked like the aftermath of a Ghostbusters movie, pumpkins capsized and decorations of ghouls and witches bedraggled, leaning haphazardly against gateposts, or crumpled into a wet heap on the lawns, amid bright yellow warning tape.

Taking the four flights of stairs up to her attic flat, she was breathing heavily by the time she got the door open and wondering how much time she should give Harry to talk to his mother. The clock was essentially on pause until they found a new wedding venue, but her sense of urgency hadn't disappeared.

She put her phone on charge and gathered together her two dress bags, and the multiple pairs of shoes she'd spent too much money on, sending out every good thought she could, that they would be needed. Unpacking her tote bag, she repacked the contents into a small leather holdall, then paused, debating whether to take her corn husk doll. She could just leave her at home, shoved under the bed to avoid the risk of her family spotting her and asking questions. But they'd been this far together and Kay was beginning to feel strangely attached to her. Maybe even like she'd been wrong to treat the doll as if she was the aggressor when, truly, she was the injured party, having been flambéed in an unprovoked attack.

Kay rubbed her eyes. Maybe the effects of the marijuana weren't entirely out of her system?

Twenty minutes later, loaded with bags she was trying to keep dry under the umbrella, she made it back to the car. Harry popped the boot open for her and she dumped everything inside. Before she could get back in, he climbed out of the driver's seat. ‘You OK to drive the last leg?' he asked her, hunching against the rain.

‘Sure.'

‘Great,' he said with a smile. ‘Because I need to get on the phone to your brother. He's got a wedding to relocate to Ashworth Hall.'