Chapter Three

7 p.m.: friday 29 october

Prague Airport

810 miles and 44(+1) hours until the wedding

Delayed.

Kay had made it to the airport, only to find the departures board full of delays, including her flight to Heathrow. This did not bode well at all. It might only be a delay now, but what if the flights started getting cancelled?

The terminal was packed, with everyone either looking a little lost, staring up at the boards with concern, or charging off towards the customer service desks, which were already inundated with people.

Kay's knitted work dress clung to her in a number of unflattering places and her feet were cramping in the boots that had betrayed her in Old Town Square. All she really wanted to do was sit down and get a cup of tea, but she needed to know what was going on.

The queues for the desks were overlapping and winding around the terminal in a nonsensical way, like one of those ‘find the right path' mazes in children's magazines. No doubt it was more organised than this usually, but no one had foreseen the bad weather picking up pace so much – apart from Aunt Lucille with her aching teeth, and probably a bunch of seers who weren't allowed to tell non-magical people anyway.

Apparently, there'd been a period in the eighties when some enterprising witches had decided to sell their talents to companies for extortionate amounts, giving those businesses a leg-up with financial forecasting, and influencing others to get unfairly beneficial agreements. Then had come the crash and the Witches Council had decided that it was unethical to participate. That it broke the ‘do no harm' tenet. Now, witches were only allowed to use their gifts for a living secretly and if they ensured it brought about no undue attention. A healer could become a doctor, but not go performing full-blown miracles every single day. Not that healers could cure everything anyway.

Even if Kay's gift was useless, she was at least relieved her affinity wasn't something which had to be curtailed or was limited according to the tenets. It would have been more devastating to have all that potential and still not be able to save every sick child that came to the hospital. Like the moment in The Imitation Game when Benedict Cumberbatch realised, even though he'd cracked the code, they couldn't use the information or it would completely give them away. They couldn't save everybody once without the risk of losing the advantage and saving nobody going forwards. Soul-destroying.

Pushing Benedict Cumberbatch from her thoughts, she found the desk for her airline, wheeled her case over to join the end of the queue and perched herself on top of it to give her feet a rest for a minute and check her messages.

Mum: Are you on your plane yet?

Kay: We'll be leaving soon. Fancy anything from the duty-free while I'm here?

She was beginning to consider picking up a bottle of vodka herself. That might make the wait more bearable.

Mum: I don't know. Let me get back to you. I still haven't decided whether to take one of the pills for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow, or just leave it until the wedding? I might need you to drive my car for me if I do. What time are you arriving again?

Kay rolled her neck. This was not about her mother taking pills – it was about wanting to arrive with Kay and stay glued to her side when she was in the same building as her ex-husband. They might dampen her mother's ability, but they weren't going to make all the anxiety she was feeling about seeing Kay's dad disappear.

Kay: Probably mid-afternoon.

Mum: You could come straight here from the airport? I don't mind waiting up for you.

Kay rubbed her temple. It was like her mum thought Marvin was going to pop out of the rosebush at the bottom of the garden or something. Relationships really wrecked people.

A lifetime with a gift to read people's moods had left her mother a chronic people-pleaser, always trying to ‘fix' bad feelings. When you coupled that with a husband who boosted people's motivation, it transpired to create a really unhealthy dynamic, encouraging Tallulah even more to try to make him happy all the time. And of course, ultimately, it had been a lost cause. With or without magic, you couldn't make people love you.

Although relationships with other witches might seem easier from the perspective of them understanding the supernatural world, both partners having gifts led to too many complications, in Kay's opinion. Especially if those gifts fell under the influencer, empath or seer designations. It all got too messy. Ripe for manipulation, over-sensitivity and second-guessing. Since she was in the empath camp, Kay thought it safest to only date non-magical people. It tended to keep things light – brief – and she'd managed to avoid getting hurt that way.

Kay: I have to pick up my clothes for the wedding first. I didn't bring them to Prague.

Mum: Oh, of course. Silly of me. Let me know when you're back home, OK?

Kay agreed that she would and debated sending a message to Joe about the level of their mother's anxiety, but held off. When she'd looked earlier, the WhatsApp chat for the wedding party had seventy-five new messages in it – partly to do with drinks before the rehearsal tomorrow and partly to do with cravats. He had enough he was juggling at the moment.

Standing up to wheel her suitcase forward a few paces, shuffling forward with the queue, a flash of blue caught her eye. Kay leaned around the couple in front of her, looking down the line, but whoever it had been wearing something the same colour as Harry's coat, they had disappeared. She was seeing Harry Ashworth everywhere and it was not helping her mood. Not least because she knew the initial leap in her stomach was excitement, before common sense took over.

And what was that coat all about, anyway? It was so long and dramatic – like he wanted to be pegged for a wizard or something. Maybe it was a male-ego thing? Joe had tried to get people to call him a sorcerer when they were little. Ha. Kay made a mental note to ask Sandy if he'd presented himself as a sorcerer rather than a witch, when he broke the magical news to her. It definitely would have appealed to her. Sandy tended to get excited about anything magical. It reminded Kay a little bit of how she used to be before the sparkle wore off and her gift had woken her up to the truth; magic was a paper aeroplane. It looked fun and easy, but it required engineering and, despite seeming harmless, the edges could still cut you.

An hour later, Kay had finally made it to the customer service desk. The woman there had explained that planes were grounded in the UK as winds of seventy-five miles an hour plus were expected for at least twelve hours. No flights were going in or out anymore. But she could transfer her to a flight to Paris that was leaving in the morning and – by that time – the storm should have passed and Kay would be able to get another flight into the UK or a ticket for the Eurostar.

Kay wasn't sure twelve hours for this storm sounded right at all, and even if the bad weather had moved on from the UK, where would it have moved on to? Surely it was heading east?

For want of any better options, though, she agreed to the transfer and thanked the woman. She'd been remarkably helpful and patient, considering the amount of grumpy travellers she was having to deal with. It made Kay wonder if maybe she was some kind of empath, but it was just as likely she was a non-magical person who was really good at her job. Kay left her with a thank you and the small box of chocolates she'd received as part of some swag at the conference.

The queue she walked away from was just as long as when it started, with more people arriving and finding their flights delayed. Gifting that box of chocolates felt like leaving someone a colander as a ‘helpful tool' to empty a swimming pool. Everywhere she looked, there were people, and all the bars, eateries and shops were packed too. Finding somewhere to camp out for the night was going to be a challenge, but how much easier would it be to find accommodation in Prague now half the people at the airport were stuck?

Another flash of blue from inside one of the bars drew her eye. She swore, catching herself before she tried to find it again and instead spotted a small table tucked in the corner by the wooden barricade. Pushing past the throbbing in her feet, she raced over to claim it, dipping and dodging between people as fast as her suitcase would allow, and throwing herself onto the tall bar stool so it teetered onto its back legs and she had to grab the edge of the table to steady it.

She let out a breath of relief. An actual seat. Step one of the plan complete. Next, she needed some food and maybe a strong drink. Just the one. Something like that woman over there had. She was holding a large tumbler filled with bright orange liquid, a slice of orange on the side and a sprig of rosemary inside. Kay's mouth watered at the thought of all that refreshing citrus, she could almost feel the burn of vodka in her stomach now.

And then the drink was flying out of the woman's hand, speeding towards Kay like it was a bullet aimed at her face. All she had the time and brainpower to do was scream ‘no' in her head. It arrested its motion mid-air, hovered for a second and smashed to the floor.

Heart pounding, Kay's cheeks flamed as the woman and her friends exclaimed over it – mostly swinging from joking about how she must have gestured and it slipped out of her hand, and apologising to the bartender who came over to sweep it up. Kay wanted to apologise too, but she couldn't. Obviously.

She put her elbows on the table and bracketed her face with her hands, trying to block out the scene she had created. It was so lucky no one had been hurt by the flying drink. How in the hell was she meant to stop using her magic, when she wasn't making a conscious choice to use it in the first place? And where was the so-called ‘blockage' when her magic was shooting out of her like a geyser?

‘Kay. Kay?' Outside Kay's little bubble of denial, a male voice was calling her. Getting closer. It wasn't husky and gentle, so her stomach decided it wasn't worth doing backflips, but when she dropped her hands to face the owner, she stifled a sigh. A young man of medium height and infinitely too much hair gel was grinning at her. ‘Hey. It's me. Dean. You remember? From the conference bar last night?'

‘Yeah.' How could she forget? ‘Hi, Dean.'

He crossed his arms on the table, leaning towards her. ‘Guess you're delayed too. We were probably meant to be on the same flight.' He pointed over his shoulder to a small booth closer to the bar that was spilling over with more of the sales team, suit jackets strewn everywhere in a fog of beer and aftershave. ‘Why don't you come and join us?'

‘Oh, that's OK thanks, I don't think I can see a spare seat.'

‘Don't worry, we'll squeeze you in. I don't mind getting cosy.'

She was sure he wouldn't, given the explicit invitations he'd been issuing last night. His crew had come over to talk to them, and she and Ilina hadn't minded, but then Dean had gone from zero to a hundred with no encouragement, and they'd needed to beat a hasty retreat before Kay's magic reacted. ‘No. Thanks. I've still got to sort out what I'm doing between now and my flight.'

‘When's yours? Ours is in the morning now, so we figured we'd make the most of it. Managed to get a suite here. It was one of the last ones, but Paddy talked them into it …' He rolled his eyes with a grin. Obviously, that was classic Paddy. Bully for him.

None of them were witches as far as Kay could tell. It wasn't as easy to figure it out as one might have thought. You couldn't just go up and ask someone if you suspected – that might earn you a trip to a psychologist or a slap to the face if you were wrong. In some countries, witches used a little sign – Ilina had a rune pattern tattooed on her inner wrist – but British witches were far too old-fashioned and secretive for anything subtly inclusive like that.

‘There's space in the suite for you too, if you need it.' Dean wiggled his eyebrows at her.

She struggled not to wrinkle her nose. Did he really think a woman on her own was going to feel comfortable going back to a hotel suite with four male strangers? ‘Er, well, that's kind, but I'll let you know.'

He pulled out his phone. ‘Give me your number and I'll text you mine.'

‘Don't I have your card from last night?' she deflected.

‘No. I don't think so …' he cocked his head, as though trying to remember.

‘I'm sure I do—'

‘Well, just to make certain you don't get stranded, why don't you give me yours.'

‘I don't have any business cards on me.' She shrugged, all the while internally screaming, please, someone, anyone, get him to take a hint.

‘Not your card, your number.' He rolled his eyes with a smile again. Clearly, she was being classic Kay now. ‘I'll worry about you otherwise. It's going to be a nightmare finding somewhere to stay, you know. You don't want to end up sleeping on one of those plastic chairs, do you?'

Kay took a deep breath, preparing herself to tell him to push off in the politest way possible, when a voice spoke up from the other side of her. And this one was husky and gentle.

‘This is a nice surprise, again.'

She turned to look at Harry, who was standing with his big coat undone, one side pushed back past his hip so he could put his hand in his trouser pockets, and a half-pint of Pilsner in the other hand which had barely an inch left at the bottom.

So. It probably had been him when she'd seen those flashes of blue earlier. One brief meeting in Old Town Square and her subconscious had dialled up her Harry-proximity-alert to obsessed teen sensitivity levels again.

She bit her lip, realising that how she responded here would determine whether she could shake off Dean – with his dubious protestations of worry about her – or not. She should have known better than to make that silent plea for help dealing with him, even in her head. Of course the person who would turn up would be the last one she would want to see. The last one she wanted to feel grateful towards.

Well, it was happening now, so the quicker she could get Dean to shove off, the quicker she could go back to ignoring Harry, too.

‘Hey, Harry. Sorry I had to dash off so quickly earlier.' She forced a smile. ‘Clearly it didn't get me very far.'

Harry's reddish-brown eyebrows drew together, making little lines appear in his faintly freckled skin, as his gaze lingered on her face for a moment, taking the time to study her.

She remembered this look. It could make you feel as though you were the most important person in the world to him at that particular moment. And then if he smiled … Kay's belly flipped over as her mind supplied the memory of how it could magnify all that intensity even further. Lopsided and wide and seemingly adorable. But this time it was just the corner of his mouth that ticked up, as though he couldn't quite muster the impetus. Which was fine. She didn't want to see his manipulatively lovely smile anyway.

‘Have you got some time to catch up properly now?' he asked. ‘Maybe grab something to eat? It's been a long time, and twice in one day seems like the universe trying to tell us something.'

She almost snorted at that. If the universe was trying to tell her anything, it was that she should never have come to Prague. She didn't know what god she had angered at the beginning of this year, but she had obviously done a thorough job.

‘I thought you needed to sort out somewhere to stay?' Dean asked, wedging himself back into the conversation.

‘Yes. I do.' She glanced over at him, but found her attention dragged – against her will – back to Harry, as though, if she didn't keep looking at him, she'd find that she'd been imagining it all.

‘I have a place. It has a sofa bed. I'll take that and you can have the bedroom,' Harry immediately offered.

Of course he had a place. Sometimes they'd talked about the destinations they wanted to travel to and it looked like the job he'd walked into with his dad's company had given him that opportunity, with a generous enough salary to afford special-edition trainers and ostentatious coats. As well as being the head of one of the oldest witching families, Adrian Ashworth was the CEO for a very large marketing company. He had to find the money to keep Ashworth Hall running in its accustomed splendour somehow, and he'd had very clear plans for how Harry would play his part in upholding that.

She tapped a fingernail against the table. This had taken a turn she hadn't anticipated. Apparently she'd attempted to dodge the lava flow of a volcano by taking refuge in Satan's favourite torture chamber. ‘Oh, that's—'

‘Remember we've got that suite I offered,' Dean jumped in.

‘I know, but—'

‘And it's right here. Makes life a lot easier. Where's your place?' Dean asked Harry, the challenge in his tone unmistakable.

Kay blinked, wondering where all the men eager for her company had been when she was debating whether to take a date to Joe's wedding. Of course, what Dean was after was clearly not anything to do with being a potential wedding date, and as for Harry's motivation, who knew? Maybe he was just extending the Ashworth protection for a Biddicote witch? Because it definitely wasn't about genuinely wanting her company.

Harry put his pint down on the table and extended his hand across it. ‘I'm sorry, so rude of me, butting in and interrupting your conversation. I'm Harry Ashworth, an old friend of Kay's.'

‘Dean.' He shook Harry's hand briefly.

‘Are you two …?' His gaze flitted quickly between Kay and Dean and back again.

‘No, no. Oh God, no. Dean is an acquaintance from the work conference we've been on. We just bumped into each other. That's all.' She told herself that her eagerness to explain there was nothing going on between her and Dean was all so the salesman would finally realise his attentions weren't welcome. Subtlety obviously wasn't working. This man was thicker than Henry Cavill's thighs.

‘I see.' Harry continued looking at Dean for a long moment, his jaw set, and Kay had a strange moment of seeing something in him she'd never seen before. Something hard and reminiscent of his father. It wasn't like she should be surprised. She'd known for a long time that his faux-humble, yet undeniably attractive, glory was the perfect sheep's clothing to hide the wolf inside. ‘Kay? Would you like to stay with me?'

She didn't really want to spend any longer with Harry, but if she said no, Dean might take it as an indication she still wanted him around. And, despite everything, maybe it was a case of better-the-devil-you-know.

‘Sounds like it would be perfect.' To someone completely ignorant of our history – as Dean was. ‘I'll catch up with you another time, Dean. Have a safe journey home.'

Dean barely waited to hear her finish speaking, giving her a wave as he was turning away in a gesture that could be interpreted either as a goodbye or dismissal, depending on the way you chose to look at it. She was perfectly happy with either, other than the fact it left her with …

‘He was persistent.' When she looked back, Harry was watching her, the deep blue of his eyes almost black in the dingy lighting of the bar, but she could still see an annoying twinkle in them – like triumph.

She glanced out at the travellers clogging the terminal, so she wasn't staring at him like his very presence had reawakened all her adolescent … yearnings. Ick. It made her cringe to think how desperate for every scrap of his attention she'd once been. Well, that wasn't who she was now.

‘He's a salesman. They're like the influencers of the NM world, aren't they?' she commented coolly, keeping the reference to the non-magical world abbreviated in case they were overheard.

He raised his eyebrows and a quizzical smile touched his lips. ‘Aren't … online influencers the influencers of the NM world?'

‘Hmm, I don't think so. Online influencers gain a following by portraying an appealing lifestyle and then people listen to their opinion because they value it. Rightly or wrongly. Salespeople are about getting what they want from people and using their manipulative skills to achieve that end.'

‘But most influencers' – he scanned the area around the table and leaned in closer, his voice lowering – ‘magical ones – can't make anyone do what they don't want to do. It's suggestion. Closer to hypnosis.'

‘It's way stronger than hypnosis. You can't always make people do it for long , necessarily, but you can definitely shove people in a different direction to the one they wanted to travel in.' She paused, her eyes narrowing, heart beating painfully against her ribs. ‘Or if, like you say, they're predisposed to the feeling anyway, maybe they'll never shake it off.'

Awkward silence reigned again. Strange how even though she knew it was a point to her, she didn't feel like she'd won anything.

Harry's tongue poked out the corner of his mouth before swiping across his bottom lip. She did not allow herself to stare at it. He started riffling in his ridiculous coat, bringing out an enormous bag of pick ‘n' mix sweets. How had he even fit that in there without a bulge? He'd probably Mary Poppins'ed his whole wardrobe into there.

He offered her the bag once he opened it.

‘No thanks, I like my teeth with no fillings.' Even magic dentistry involved having someone up close and personal, poking about in your mouth, and not in the pleasant way.

‘Comfort eating has numerous pitfalls,' he admitted with a small laugh, dipping his hand in to grab a sweet shaped like a banana, while simultaneously showing off his annoyingly neat, white teeth. ‘Is there anyone else from your company you're travelling with?'

Ah, so, he was fishing to get rid of her now she'd shown she wasn't as enamoured with his presence as she'd first made out?

‘Nope.' The two developers who'd flown out had left earlier in the week because they had a big project they were working on, and even though her boss had already planned to stay in Prague for the entire weekend, it wasn't like he was a viable person to call upon for assistance. He probably would have told her it was against company policy to share with colleagues. She would prefer to sleep on the runway than in the same room as that man anyway. ‘Why?'

Harry swallowed the last mouthful of his sweet. ‘Just in case they needed somewhere to stay, too. Shall we make a move, then?'

Huh. Maybe he wasn't trying to ditch her after all. It definitely had to be some Ashworth-code motivating him, then. It was bad enough she'd had to pretend to be happy to see him without knowing he was thinking of her as some kind of charity case.

‘That's not necessary. I can find somewhere for myself.'

‘But you said—'

‘I was just trying to shake Dean off,' she admitted. ‘I'll survive.'

He frowned. ‘What if you can't find anywhere else? You can't sleep here, surrounded by all these strangers – and Dean. ' He took the head of a gummy worm between his teeth and yanked it off with surprising aggression. ‘It's not safe.'

She was about to argue back, because a) who was he trying to kid that he cared, and b) this was sounding like a very similar conversation she'd already had once this evening with a man who couldn't take a hint to go away. But then the woman whose glass she'd magically stolen and smashed caught her eye over Harry's shoulder. If Kay did get stuck at the airport all night, she would be surrounded by people. And security cameras. What if something else went wrong? It wouldn't be safe. Not for her, and not for other people.

If she went with him, it would at least minimise the risk. She could manage one night in the same room as Harry Ashworth if she really had to, couldn't she? And if something accidentally went flying at his head, he'd at least be able to use his own magic in self-defence.

‘OK, fine,' she said. ‘Let's go.'