SHIVER: 13 Sexy Tales of Humor and Horror (51 page)

“Sam, I’ve told you, that means nothing. Ten generations and not a witch in the bunch,” I huffed.

“What’s your last name?” glacier eyes asked me.

“It’s Bradbury.”

“Is it? Well, that explains the reading.”

I glanced at the rune still in my hand.

Sam’s eyes settled on my palm. “See? I told you things were changing for you! And with Mabon right around the corner!” She practically bounced on her heels with excitement.

“Mabon?” I asked.

“The fall equinox to you,” Sam explained. “Equal day and night. Balance of light and dark. It’s a week from Saturday.”

Our hostess listened and nodded her head. “Time to embrace the darkness.”

Her words sent a chill down my spine, and I shivered although the room remained the same temperature.

“We’ll definitely need to smudge you soon. The sooner the better. And definitely before Samhain.” At my confused expression, Sam explained, “Halloween to you. Oh, we should do it this weekend,” she continued, nodding away in agreement with herself.

I rubbed my arms in an attempt to get warm. A familiar sensation tingled on my skin, and I turned my head to meet colorless eyes.

“When you’re ready, come back and see me again. I’m Sarah by the way.” She extended her hand.

“Madison.” When I shook her hand, I had the distinct feeling of being read or analyzed.

As we walked down the crooked streets back toward our dorm, Sam chattered on about how wicked cool it was Sarah did a reading for me and how she was a powerful witch, head of the local coven, and famous for her spells and intuition.

I stuffed my hands in my hoodie pockets while I pretended to listen. My fingers wrapped around a smooth object.

“Oh crap,” I pulled the pebble from my pocket, “I stole her rune.”

Sam laughed and shook her head. “Flying monkeys! That’s five years bad luck for stealing from a witch.”

My eyes bugged out.

“I’m kidding.” Her shoulder bumped mine. “Come on, we’ll take it back and explain you weren’t intending to shoplift, beg for mercy, and all that.”

Declining her offer, I sent Sam back to campus and returned to the shop alone. A slight breeze ominously rattled a few dried leaves along the street when I passed the bronze statue of Roger Conant. Founder of Salem or not, the statue made him look like a witch with his buckled-hat and billowing cape.

The bells chimed when I opened the door of Sarah’s shop.

“Back so soon?” Sarah asked without lifting her head.

I held out the rune in explanation.

At my silence, she raised her eyes to my hand. “I didn’t peg you for a thief.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep it.” I stared down at my scuffed ballet flats.

“Maybe it meant something to you? Struck a chord?” She returned the rune to its bowl.

“I wish. Thank you for your optimism, but I think it’s lost on me.” I shrugged in an attempt to pass off my nonexistent love life as nothing major.

“You never know. Love always happens when you least expect it, and with the last guy you’d imagine.” Her icy eyes seemed to thaw. She walked around the counter and grabbed something off the end of one of the aisles. “Since you aren’t a believer, this can’t hurt.”

I studied the packet she handed me. The label read “Love Spell” in a fancy cursive on a pink label. Inside were a candle, a vial of liquid, a tiny heart charm, ribbon, and what looked like pink peppercorns. I wondered if the vial contained the tears of dateless, single women.

“Really?” I ask, incredulous. “Pepper?”

She shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt. Right?” She winked at me.

“Okay.” I tucked the package into my bag, already planning to throw it away later. “Thank you.”

“Let me know if it works, Madison Bradbury.”

The use of my full name struck me as odd. The whole past hour was strange. I nodded, but didn’t meet her eyes. A hush fell over the store, amplifying the sound of the creaking floorboards as I walked to the door.

“A brown-haired Bradbury girl walking into my shop. Who could imagine,” Sarah mumbled when I crossed the threshold. At least I think she said that. The words were lost beneath the sound of bells.

“Can’t you use
your magical powers for something useful? Or fun? Like frozen margaritas?” I gave our broken blender a dirty look.

Sam rolled her eyes. “No, this isn’t
Practical Magic
.” She scowled as she rifled through her desk for matches. A bundle of sage lay on my bed, awaiting fire.

“Can’t you set it on fire with your mind?”

“Sadly, no.” She shoved a drawer closed and opened another one.

“Won’t we set off the smoke alarm?” I sniffed the herb. “Or get busted for smoking weed in our room? Maybe we should open the window.”

“Good idea.” She pushed up the bottom of our window.

“Great. Now the whole quad will think we’re potheads.”

“Stop your complaining. That’s the whole reason we’re doing this to remove the dark cloud of negativity surrounding you.” She held up a book of matches. “Ready?”

“No. I’m not looking forward to smelling like a Thanksgiving turkey for the rest of the night.”

“You can shower before we go to the party.”

It was Saturday night and that meant bad beer in a Solo cup.

“Another party? Haven’t we tortured ourselves enough this semester?” I scooted further back on my rumpled bed to rest my back against the wall.

“Yes, another one. School has barely started. You need to snap out of your funk. Find a cute guy. Make out in the corner. Let him touch your boobs. Maybe grab his ass.”

“Reminds me of all of sophomore year. Yet, strange guy ass sounds delightful.” I scrunched up my nose. “Can we go right this minute?”

“Enough with the sarcasm. Shut up and hold still.” Sam lit the sage, and then blew on the flame to let it smolder.

I coughed and waved my hand in front of my face. “Now what?”

“Stand up.”

I shot her a look, but stood while she waved the sage around me. The smoke stung my eyes, so I closed them.

“Think good thoughts. Or maybe conjure up your perfect guy. That’ll help.”

I remembered the love spell package in my bag. Sarah had said true love comes when you least expect it, so did that mean I shouldn’t focus on it to make it happen? All of this magic stuff was confusing.

Inhaling a deep breath and coughing again, I tried to list all of the things I wanted in a guy.

Smart.

Funny.

Chivalrous. What? Mr. Darcy was hot.

Great, now I’m thinking about Colin Firth and he’s like my dad’s age. So wrong. Okay, Madison, focus.

Sam muttered something under her breath and spun me around to do my backside.

Where was I? Right
…

Cute, but not a narcissist. A guy who doesn’t think he’s God’s gift to females, but gorgeous in his own way.

Am I superficial? Do I care?

Kind. Kind to animals, too. Always a good sign.

I inhaled, and coughed again.

Fit, but not a jock or super gym rat guy. Maybe a lacrosse or soccer player. Or a rower. Did we even have a crew team here?

More of a lone wolf than part of a pack—aka frat—but not a loner with no friends because he was too weird and anti-social to have friends.

Mysterious.

Gasping, I opened my eyes. “I have a crush on Andrew Wildes.” I’d just described him perfectly. Well, not the athletic part. Maybe he hated cats. Or kittens. He had to have some flaws. Like a girlfriend.

“You do?”

Crap. I’d said it out loud.

“The weird guy from your sem class?”

“He’s not weird, just not super normal.”

Sam rolled her eyes and walked over to our sink to extinguish the sage. “You’re cleansed.”

“I don’t feel any different.” I smelled my ponytail. “I do smell different, though.”

“It might take a while to—”

Four quick, loud knocks interrupted her. Our eyes met.

“Who is it?” I mouthed at her.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah?” she asked, stepping closer to the door, but not opening it.

“Can you open the door?” a familiar male voice asked.

I jumped on my bed and grabbed my pillow, waving it around the room, hoping to clear any remaining smoke.

Sam opened the door and Andrew Wildes stood there on our threshold in all of his dark, brooding glory. I was on my bed waving a pillow around my head like a crazy person. Embarrassed, I quickly hopped to the floor and threw the pillow behind me.

“Sorry to bother you, but I was passing by and smelled smoke.” His eyes flashed to mine. “Hi, Madison.”

“Hi, Andrew.” I gave him an embarrassed wave.

Sam grinned at me and then put on her best innocent expression to face him. “You did? How strange. Maybe we were making microwave popcorn and burned it.”

“Maybe?” Andrew’s eyes swept our room and landed on mine again. “No microwave.”

“Oh. Right. Funny that.” She shrugged.

He took a step into the room and crossed his arms. “It smells like a roasted chicken in here.”

I laughed, but stopped myself mid-ha.

“Are you a narc?” she asked.

“No, but I am an RA.”

“In this dorm?” I asked. I’d never seen him in the building.

“I’m in Emerson.”

“So your powers don’t work here?” she asked.

His eyes flashed to hers for a second before returning to me. “My powers work everywhere. Unlike illegal microwaves, cigarettes and other smoking, I’m not sure there are any rules banning sage smudging,” he said, stepping to the sink and picking up the singed bundle of sage.

“If you knew it was sage, why did you ask?” Sam asked.

“Just checking to be sure you knew.” He twirled the bundle between his longer fingers before placing it back on the small counter. “Who was the smudger and who was the smudgee?”

Apparently my brain had lost the ability to form words while Andrew stared at me and I stood there mute.

“I smudged Madison,” Sam confessed, shoving me in front of her.

His deep brown eyes swept over me, settling on a spot on my cheek. I realized he wasn’t wearing his glasses, and his long lashes brushed his cheek when he blinked. I’d never noticed before how long they were. Ridiculously long. And unfair. Andrew was the kind of guy you wouldn’t look twice at… until you did and realized how handsome he was beyond the glasses.

“Looks like you got a little close.” When he touched my cheek, I felt the heat of his fingertip ignite a trail of fire beneath my skin. He held his finger in front of my face where I saw a dark smear of charcoal.

I brushed my skin, hoping to remove anything else. Embarrassment heated my face. My recently admitted crush stood in my room and I looked like I was sporting face paint and smelled like Thanksgiving dinner. Obviously, the smudging hadn’t worked to clear my mojo.

His hand rose as if he would touch my cheek again. I held my breath and braced for impact. Instead, he subtly shook his head and stuffed his hand in the pocket of his black hoodie.

“Sorry to barge in. Lots of students are curious about witchcraft. Allison, on the first floor, almost set her comforter on fire with an enchanted candle.” He scoffed. “Probably best to avoid open flames in the dorms.”

His eyes never left mine as he spoke. I felt like I was being studied and categorized, but wasn’t sure if the judgment was positive or more “stupid college girls and witchcraft”. He was impossible to read.

While Andrew and I stared at each other, Sam cleared her throat. “What are you doing tonight, Andrew?”

“Not really sure. I was headed upstairs when I smelled the smoke. To see a friend.”

Girl friend or guy friend, I wondered.

“You know Tate? The RA on the third floor?” he asked.

Sam and I nodded. Everyone knew Tate Winthrop. Even if he weren’t a gazillionth generation Winthrop, everyone would still know him. There weren’t many six-foot-three white guys with dreadlocks down their back on our little college campus. Sam’s had a crush on Tate since the beginning of last year. He was a pretty big reason why we still lived in a double room as juniors. I couldn’t imagine Tate and Andrew being friends. Andrew seemed too quiet, and a little uptight.

“You and Tate should come to the party on Elm Court tonight.” A glimmer of a plan twinkled in her eyes. “Unless RAs aren’t allowed to go to off campus parties.”

“We can. If everyone there is legal, it’s not a problem.” He smiled at Sam. “Are you legal?” he asked me.

“She is. We both are.” Sam was lying. My birthday wasn’t until late November; hers was in January.

It would be easy for him to bust us by asking for IDs, but he didn’t.

“Okay, maybe I’ll see you there. No more smudging, ladies.” He didn’t make a move to leave. Instead, we stood there awkwardly. At least I felt awkward. Sam looked delighted at her newfound connection to Tate.