I Put a Spell on You (32 page)

“Where’s Xander?” I said suddenly. “Where is he? He was in there with me.”

“In there?” Esme said. She stood up and gazed at the spa, which was belching smoke and flames. She went pale. “Oh god.”

Jamie pushed the hair back from his forehead.

“Where was he,” he asked.

“He was in reception,” I said. “I went to find where the fire had started, but he was in reception…”

Jamie took off, running towards the main door. Someone tried to stop him but he shook them off. He shoved the door and we saw a flash of orange, then he was gone.

Esme didn’t speak. She stood stock still, eyes glued on the door. Behind us a fire engine swung into the mews and firefighters started heading towards the spa.

“Anyone inside?” someone said.

“Two,” I managed to gasp. “Two men. Just in reception I think.”

It was like watching a film – a horrifying, terrifying film, as we saw the firefighters streaming into the building, dousing the walls with water. Esme hadn’t said a word. Time stopped. I felt we’d been standing there, waiting, forever. And then a figure appeared at the door, and Jamie emerged, doubled over, coughing, and dragging Xander. A firefighter rushed forward and grabbed Jamie and two paramedics appeared with red blankets. Xander lay on the ground, not moving. His face was covered in ash and grime. Jamie lay next to him, coughing.

“Jamie,” Esme said. She rushed to his side and clasped his hands. She was laughing and sobbing and wailing all at the same time. “Jamie, please don’t die.”

More slowly I walked to Xander and knelt down. A paramedic was putting a mask over his face.

“Is he..?” I asked.

“He’s breathing just now. We need to take him to hospital,” she said. She looked up at me. “You too.”

Esme was already climbing into an ambulance alongside Jamie.

“He’s my fiancé,” I heard her telling a paramedic. “He saved my cousin, there.”

I watched as they lifted Xander onto a stretcher and took him inside the ambulance.

“Come with us,” the paramedic said.

I felt very alone as I slowly climbed the metal steps up to the ambulance and sat stiffly on a red plastic-coated bench. Then, just as the door was closing, I heard a shout.

“Stop,” said a familiar voice. “I’m coming in that one.”

The door swung open again and there was Lou, hair messier than I’d ever seen it and mascara halfway down her face.

“What the bloody hell have you been up to?” she said.

I patted the bench next to me and gave her a weary smile.

“You might want to sit down,” I said. “This is going to take a while.”

Epilogue

One year later

Xander didn’t die. He was in hospital for a while because he’d breathed in a lot of smoke, and he had burns on his arms, but he didn’t die. He didn’t go to prison either. It turned out he’d had some sort of breakdown – obviously coping with his powers, and the death of his mum was just too much. He was sectioned and taken to a mental hospital just outside Edinburgh. I left him there for about a week – maybe two – before I just felt too guilty, then I pulled a few strings, called in a few favours, and managed to get him into a clinic I’d heard about down in the Lake District. It was run by a woman I’d met a few times at conferences who, as well as being a brilliant counsellor and mental health practitioner, was also a witch. And slowly, very slowly, Xander began to rebuild his life and take control of his magic.

He’s living in a cottage close to the clinic now. I’ve been to visit him a couple of times. I’m not sure we’ll ever be as close as we were, but we’re working on it. Neither of us has been in touch with our dad – but I must admit I keep an eye on our little sister via the mirror, every now and then. Just to make sure she’s okay.

I had burns on my hands and bruises just about everywhere, I had a nasty cough for a few weeks, and I was scared of my own shadow for a lot longer than that. And the spa – my pride and joy – was gutted. But the insurance paid out, everyone pitched in, and eventually we reopened. It was a slog. A real slog – physically and emotionally – but I got there in the end. It’s still called In Harmony, of course, but I have renamed the Zen garden Star’s Sanctuary, just as a way of remembering her.

Esme sold her flat in London – finally – and bought a little house close to the spa actually. She and Jamie are getting there. They’ve worked really hard to rebuild their relationship and I think she’s going to ask him to move in with her soon. She and him are made for each other. They’ve been through too much to give up on their romance and I’m pretty sure they’re going to make it. In fact, I’ve been dabbling with divining the future using my trusty mirror and, while I’ve not completely got the hang of it, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen a happy ever after for Esme and Jamie. I’d never tell her that, of course. I don’t want her to get complacent.

And as for Louise, well, she’s the reason I’m here, more nervous than I’ve ever been in my life. We’re getting married. I know. I never thought I’d share my life again. But somehow, she makes everything feel doubled – not halved.

“Ready?” Esme poked her head round the door, interrupting my thoughts.

“As I’ll ever be,” I said. I turned to look at her. “You look beautiful. That dress is perfect.”

Esme smoothed her sleek silver dress over her hips.

“Ah, this old thing?” she said with a grin.

She took my hands.

“Your mum’s outside,” she said. “She’s definitely going to cry when she sees you – you look breath-taking.”

I was wearing a simple silk ivory column dress. Nothing fancy. No frills. Just a halter neck and a low back.

I waved her away, but I was pleased with her compliments.

“Shall we go?” I said.

I followed her out into the hall, where Mum was waiting with Tess. They both gasped as we emerged.

“Told you,” Esme said with a grin. She gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“I love you, you old cow,” she said. “See you on the other side.”

She took Tess’s arm and they walked down the corridor.

I looked at my mum.

“I’m proud of you,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “Be happy.”

“I will,” I said, giving her a hug. “And it’s because of you.”

“Don’t make me cry,” she said. “It took me ages to do my make-up.”

I put my arm through hers and we walked along in silence to the room where the ceremony was taking place. As we got near, the lift doors opened and out came Lou with her mum and dad.

“Oh,” I said. “Is this bad luck?”

She grinned at me.

“I think we’ve had our fair share of that.”

“You look amazing,” I said. Her dress was made from the same silk as mine, but was straighter and more tailored, and strapless.

“So do you.” We stared at each other for a moment, smiling like idiots, until Louise’s dad cleared his throat.

“Could we get on, do you think?” he said. “I’m desperate for a drink.”

Lou leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss.

“Let’s do this,” she said.

So we did.

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I Put a Spell on You
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Then turn the page for an extract from Kerry Barrett’s

Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

Chapter 1

I was completely out of my comfort zone. I perched on the high bar stool, legs swinging like a toddler in a high chair, and cursed Harry for insisting on meeting me here.

‘Seven o’clock, Esme,
Cara Mia
at Canary Wharf,’ she’d said in her message. ‘Don’t be late. It’s important.’

She was passing through town, she’d said, flying into Heathrow from the States and back to Scotland from City. Bad planning on her part. And even worse planning on mine to work spitting distance from the bar she’d chosen. I’d briefly considered changing jobs to get out of meeting her, but even I could see that was a bit extreme.

And so, here I was. With my legs uncomfortably wrapped around the chrome legs of a shiny stool, and my elbow in a puddle of something, in a bar full of the City types I spent a lot of time avoiding. And – I squinted at my watch in the dim light – it was now 7.25 and there was still no sign of Harry.

I shifted awkwardly on my perch and tried once more to get the barman’s attention. He’d been ignoring me since I arrived, despite my best attempts at eye contact.

Finally, I thought, as his gaze shifted in my direction. But no, instead he served the woman standing behind me, who had glossy hair and the kind of honey-coloured skin that comes from a lifetime of winters spent abroad.

That did it. I moved my arm out of the puddle, rested my wrist on the cold bar and waggled my fingers, gently, in the direction of the barman. A small shower of pink sparks – nothing anyone would notice – wafted from my fingertips. The barman looked puzzled for a moment, then he picked a bottle of Pinot Grigio from the fridge, dropped it into an ice bucket and presented it to me, along with two glasses, with a flourish.

‘Nice,’ said a voice in my ear. ‘And you didn’t even have to ask.’

‘Hello, Harry,’ I said. Of course she would choose that moment to arrive. She didn’t kiss me. Instead she leaned over, scooped up the wine bucket and tilted her head in the direction of a booth.

I was expected to follow, clearly. I picked up the glasses, then had to put them down again so I could slide off the barstool without mishap. I resisted the temptation to turn around and descend backwards, but only just. Then I picked up the glasses again and trotted after my cousin, just like I’d been trotting after her my whole life.

As I approached the table she’d chosen, I noticed her normally immaculately made-up face was pale, with dark rings under her eyes. And her slouchy cashmere sweater hung off her. She grabbed the glass I offered, glugged wine into it and drained it. I felt slightly uneasy. Harry being in control was one of the constants in my life.

‘What’s the matter?’ I asked as I shuffled sideways along the seat into the booth.

Harry waited for me to sit, then pushed a glass in my direction.

‘It’s Mum,’ she said in her typically forthright way. ‘She’s got breast cancer.’

I put my hand to my mouth in shock.

‘Oh God,’ I said. ‘Poor Auntie Suky.’

Harry took another swig of her wine.

‘She should be OK because they seem to have caught it early enough. But she’s in for a rough few months.’

She looked at me. ‘You have to go,’ she said.

I was already shaking my head.

‘No,’ I said. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘My mum needs you,’ Harry said.

‘You go.’ I tipped my wine into my mouth and poured another glass. ‘She’s your mum.’

Harry looked away. I thought for a moment she had tears in her eyes, but perhaps it was just the light in the bar.

‘I’ve got some stuff going on at the moment, Esme,’ she said. ‘I just can’t leave work just now. I’ll come as soon as I can.’

‘I don’t care. I’m not going.’

I was annoyed she’d even asked. Going to see Suky meant seeing my own mum and Harry knew how shaky my relationship was with her.

‘I know you’re annoyed I even asked,’ she said.

‘Don’t do that.’ I scowled at her. I hated when she poked about in my head and read my mind.

‘What?’ she said, her pretty face full of innocence.

Infuriated I shook my head again. Harry ignored me.

‘I spoke to your mum,’ she said. I felt a flash of anger that she’d spoken to Mum when I hadn’t. ‘She says there’s been a bit of trouble.’

‘What kind of trouble?’

‘A few things have gone wrong at the café.’

I shrugged.

‘There’s nothing I can do about that.’ My career as a lawyer was far away from my family’s quaint tearoom.

Harry caught my fingers and squeezed them.

‘You can help,’ she said. ‘You have to help. You know I’d be there if I could – it’s just really tricky for me at the moment.’

‘I don’t do witch stuff any more,’ I said.

Harry arched her perfectly plucked eyebrows.

‘Then what was that at the bar?’

She had a point. What I’d done at the bar –and what she’d done when she echoed my thoughts back to me – was witchcraft. Because, though I deny it and ignore it, I am a witch. So is Harry. And our mums. And our gran before them. You know how it goes.

But a long time ago, I’d turned my back on my mum and witchcraft, and now I only ever used it secretly, quietly and – often pretty badly – to make everyday life a bit easier. If I needed a parking space, one would appear. A mess in my kitchen? No problem. Couldn’t find the remote control? It would just appear like – well, like magic. Anything more complicated though, and it didn’t always go as smoothly as I’d liked so I tended to avoid pushing my luck when it came to spells. It was a strategy that worked for me and I had no intention of that changing any time soon.

‘I’ll come up as soon as I can,’ Harry was saying. ‘Next week, probably. Your mum needs you, Ez. My mum needs you. I…’

There was a pause. I looked at her in expectation. But apparently she’d finished.

I pushed my glass of wine away and picked up my bag.

‘Sorry,’ I said, shuffling back along the bench. ‘I have to go back to the office. Don’t you have a plane to catch?’

Chapter 2

‘So I told her, there was absolutely no way I was going,’ I said to Dom, my sort-of-boyfriend later that evening. I’d bumped into him when I’d gone back to the office to pick up my things, and persuaded him to come back to mine, which hardly ever happened. He looked out of place in my tiny flat; too big and too male as he lounged against my Cath Kidston cushions and smiled at me as I ranted and paced the floor in front of him.

‘Absolutely no way,’ I repeated.

Dom looked at me, a glint of mischief in his brown eyes.

‘So when are you leaving?

I screwed up my nose.

‘Tomorrow,’ I said miserably. ‘Straight after work.’

He chuckled, but to give him his due, he didn’t labour the point. Instead he patted the cushion next to him and pulled me down on to the sofa. I cuddled into him, enjoying the rare pleasure of having him all to myself.

‘I’m in court all day tomorrow,’ he said. ‘So I won’t get to see you before you go.’