I Put a Spell on You (15 page)

In fact, I told myself, listening in to his thoughts could be a good thing. It could put my mind at rest, convince me that Xander had nothing to do with all this and then I could move on.

Gently, I reached out into his head, feeling my way as he talked. And, nothing. I frowned.

“Are you okay?” Xander said. “You look a bit confused.”

“Oh I’m fine,” I said, stirring my soup vigorously. “Just wondering if I should text Louise.”

There was little Xander loved more than giving me advice on my love life.

“You should definitely text her,” he said. “In fact, ring her…”

He carried on talking and I tried to get into his head once more. And once again, there was nothing. It was like I was hitting a wall – a force field – that stopped me getting in. Weird. And worrying because it felt very similar to what had happened when I’d tried to read Esme’s mind when she was with Xander. Had I lost the knack or was something more sinister going on?

Beside me, two women of a similar age to me were chatting. One was telling a story and the other was laughing. I swooped into her mind as she listened.

“Shut up,” she was thinking as her friend talked. “Shut up about your stupid children and your stupid husband and your stupid dog…”

Alarmed I swooped out again and stared at her. She was smiling broadly at her friend and saying: “Kids are so funny, aren’t they?”

People, I thought, people were funny. And not in a good way. I raised an eyebrow at her and she shifted in her seat. I was pleased I’d made her uncomfortable. I was in that sort of mood.

I swooped again, this time into the head of the waitress who’d come to clear our plates.

“Just three more months,” she was thinking as she watched the rain lashing the steamed-up windows of the deli. “Three more months and I’ll be on my way to Australia.”

She gave me a big smile and I grinned back. I’d not lost the ability to read people’s minds after all. It was just Xander who was giving me trouble.

“H,” Xander said as I studied him. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired,” I said, playing with my napkin. “But you’re right, I should ring Louise.”

Xander looked triumphant.

“Why are you so interested in witchcraft?” I asked him suddenly.

He looked surprised at my out-of-the-blue question.

“Not sure,” he said. “My mum always told me there was more to life than we could imagine and I believed her. When I met you, I realised exactly what she meant.”

“She wasn’t a witch though,” I said. “Your mum.”

“Not unless she kept it very well hidden,” Xander said with a smile. “Nope, it’s only really since I met you that I started getting into it.”

“And you’ve never noticed that you can do stuff?” I said. “Things appearing just when you need them? Lost stuff being found? Dishes being done when you’re sure you didn’t so much as turn the tap on?”

“No,” said Xander, his smile beginning to weaken. “What’s this about, H?”

“Esme says you’re really good at magic,” I said. “You are. I’ve seen you. But you’ve only just started. You know…”

“What?” said Xander. “What do I know?”

“Too much.”

Xander stood up. He took out his wallet and threw a £20 note onto the table. Then he looked at me in disgust, picked up his coat and left. The two-faced woman on the table next to me paused in gushing over her friend’s stories to give me a look of undisguised glee. I flexed my fingers and her coffee tipped over and into her lap. Then I picked up my own coat and legged it after Xander.

Chapter 22

Perhaps I should have paid more attention to the rules of witchcraft that Esme had been teaching Xander. Particularly the one about any harm you do coming back on you threefold, because as I raced along the road, a bus drove by, rumbling over the cobbles. It hit a huge puddle and an arc of water rose up into the air and all over me.

“Seriously?” I muttered to the heavens as I stood there, drenched and shivering. “It was one tiny cup of coffee. This is waaay more than three times that.”

A crowd of schoolkids huddled at a nearby bus stop looked at me talking to myself, and giggled.

“Freak,” said one as I passed.

Resisting the urge to conjure up a puddle that would land all over her – who knew what would happen to me if I did – I squelched my way back to the spa, hoping no one would spot me until I’d dried out.

But of course Xander was in reception. He was sitting at Nancy’s desk, obviously covering her lunch break. Fortunately he was by himself, but he was the last person I wanted to see.

At first, he didn’t look up from his screen, just gave me the briefest of glances.

“Afternoon,” he said, making it clear I was still in the doghouse.

“Hello,” I mumbled. I tried to slink past him without him noticing my bedraggled appearance. No such luck.

“Been for a swim?” he said. He was still staring at the computer, but his mouth twitched.

“Bus,” I said. “Puddle.”

“Shower?” he said. I nodded and tiny drips flew from my hair.

“When you’re dressed, come and find me,” he said. “I’ve got something to show you.”

I headed for the changing rooms where I had a steaming hot shower and washed my hair, then I put on a soft jumper dress and leggings I’d summoned from home, dried my hair roughly and, feeling much more human – and determined never to lash out with my witchcraft again (yeah, we’d see how long that lasted) – I wandered off to find Xander.

Xander was in his office. He jumped up when I knocked on his open door.

“I’m not sure what that was about back there,” he said, launching straight in without even saying hello. “But I want you to know I’m not a witch. Never have been, never will be. I’m just interested and I seem to be quite good at it.”

I nodded.

“I don’t know why that’s important to you,” he said, obviously wanting me to explain.

“It’s not,” I said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“So we’re good?” he said.

“We’re good.”

“So can I show you what I’ve found?” He bobbed up and down on the balls of his feet like an excited schoolboy.

“What is it?” I asked. “It’s nothing rude?”

Xander rolled his eyes at me, then he sat down at his desk and pulled open his drawer. Carefully, reverentially, he lifted out a leather-bound book.

“A spell book?” I leaned over his desk and took it. “Where on earth did you get this?”

Xander smiled a dazzling smile.

“That wee shop at the top end of Cockburn Street,” he said. “It’s all joss sticks and patchouli oil out the front, but they’ve got other stuff in the back.”

I knew it well. There was a whole network of witches in Edinburgh and the woman who ran the shop – Lisa – was one of the cornerstones of the community. I didn’t mention that though.

“How did you discover that?” I asked. Lisa was quite fussy about who she let in to her inner sanctum.

“I just got talking to the owner one day,” Xander said. “People tell me stuff.”

“I can’t imagine why,” I said with a wry smile. I perched on the edge of the desk and took the book from Xander.

“Have you read it?” I asked. I turned the book over in my hands, stroking the leather, feeling its weight.

“I’ve read some,” Xander said.

“Is it genuine?”

Xander shrugged.

“I’m no expert,” he said. “But I think so.” He looked at me. “What do you think?”

I held the book in one hand and opened it to the first page.

“No name,” I pointed out. “But that’s not unusual.”

I leafed through the first couple of pages, pausing occasionally to read a charm, and muttering certain words under my breath. The air around me began to fizz with magic.

“It definitely real,” I said. My newly washed hair crackled with static energy. “I just can’t understand where it came from. These books are family heirlooms. I’ve never heard of one ending up in a shop.”

“I really, really wanted one,” he said. “I usually get what I want.”

I didn’t doubt it, and I felt another wave of worry for Esme and Jamie’s future together.

Xander leaned back in his chair, looking pleased with himself.

“So this is the real deal,” he said. “That’s amazing. This book is amazing. I was reading one spell last night, let me show you…”

He rifled through the pages, then stopped.

“Shit,” he said. He turned some more pages.

“Shit,” he said again. He put the book on the desk and pushed it towards me.

“Shit,” I echoed. Someone had scribbled in black marker pen, blanking out the neatly written spells like an over-enthusiastic wartime censor.

“So that explains why it was for sale,” I said. Xander shook his head, slowly.

“This has only just happened,” he said. “These are the pages I read last night.”

I shivered.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely sure.”

I gave him a sharp look.

“You’ve read these pages and they weren’t marked?”

“That’s what I said.”

I looked through the ruined pages.

“Can you do anything?” Xander asked.

I frowned, thinking about how to solve this problem, then I ran my hands over the marked pages lightly and whispered a few words. The pages lifted as though a breeze had blown through them, but nothing happened.

I pursed my lips and tried again, a different charm this time. Nothing happened.

“I can’t shift it,” I said. “This isn’t random destruction. Whoever did this knew how much this book meant.”

Once more, I leafed through the pages, wincing at the destruction of something so precious.

“It’s another witch,” I said, almost to myself. “I’m absolutely sure of it. There was magic when Star died, and when the music went strange…”

Xander frowned.

“Why would another witch do this to you?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Jealousy maybe? Or perhaps they don’t like how I’ve built a business out of witchcraft. Some people are very old-fashioned, you know. It could be anything.”

“Or anyone,” Xander pointed out.

I smiled at him.

“But it’s not you.”

“It’s not me,” he said.

A thought struck me.

“It’s my fault,” I said. “It’s definitely my fault.”

Xander looked like he was about to disagree and I stopped him.

“No,” I said. “Don’t argue. It’s me. Your spell book has been destroyed, and it’s because you’re friends with me.”

I got up and wandered round his office.

“The files going missing, the power cut, the dirty phone calls, the music – that was all aimed at me.” It had been what I’d feared since Star died and now I was convinced.

“Star was trying to look out for me, and she died,” I said in a quiet voice. “It’s all my fault.”

“Could you just stay still for a minute?” Xander said, as he watched me pace back and forwards. “I’ve got an idea.”

I paused in my pacing.

“What kind of idea?” I said.

“I think you should leave,” he said.

I started pacing again.

“That’s a ridiculous idea,” I said.

Xander got up from his desk and came over to where I paced. He took both my hands.

“Look at you,” he said. “You’re a woman on the edge.”

He had a point.

“Go home,” he said. “Get some Highland air in your lungs. Eat some cakes. Go for walks or whatever people do in the country.”

“Go home?” I repeated. “What about work?”

“I can cope,” he said. “You’ve trained me well.”

“And if nothing happens here while I’m away?” I said, rubbing my forehead. “Or if the bad stuff follows me, then I’ll know it’s to do with me.”

“Well, that wasn’t exactly my reasoning,” Xander said. “But yes, I suppose so.”

“And you can cope?” I said.

“Of course I can.”

The feeling of relief almost made me dizzy.

“Okay, then,” I said. “I’ll go. But only for a week.”

Xander gave me a squeeze.

“Go on then,” he said. “Get lost.”

Chapter 23

And so I found myself heading north again, back to Claddach and the comforting familiarity of home.

I got there quite late, went straight to bed, and slept for fourteen hours.

“Sleep is very healing,” Mum said when I finally emerged from my room, bleary-eyed and disorientated after so much rest. “Coming to the café?”

I shook my head.

“I’m not really up for company,” I said. “Would you mind if I don’t?”

Instead I went walking. Xander may have been joking when he suggested it, but it made me feel much better. I pulled on my North Face jacket and Mum’s boots, and tramped round the loch one day, up the peak that overlooked the town another. It was called Ben Claddach, which meant the black mountain, although really it was just a big hill. It was a fair old walk though, quite steep in parts, and I was soon sweaty and out of breath. It felt good. When I reached the summit, I sat for a while and looked over the countryside below, Loch Claddach’s black waters glinting in the low winter sun, and the town tucked in beside it, looking tiny from where I was.

Having some distance was doing me good in one respect. I felt better, physically. I was eating like a horse and I’d stopped drinking the best part of a bottle of wine every night. Mum and Tess were fussing round me, when I let them, bringing me home cakes from the café, cooking delicious meals and listening when I talked. Endlessly. Going over and over what had happened and trying to make sense of it.

“You need to phone the police,” Mum said, every time. “Phone Louise.”

But I was seemingly incapable of taking any action at all. I got my phone out a few times, once I punched in Lou’s number, but I never actually dialled. She had left messages for me, but I didn’t return her calls. Xander phoned too, and I didn’t speak to him either. He took to phoning the house and chatting with Mum or Tess, who were soon won over by his charm.

“He’s a treasure,” Mum would say. “You’re lucky to have him,” Tess pointed out. I smiled and nodded, but I didn’t call him back.

He emailed me, a lot. I’d always written up notes about each spiritual counselling session, which I kept for my own records and which I emailed to the clients along with the spells they needed. Xander was doing the same and he copied me in on each email. There were a lot of them. Clients were obviously flocking to his sessions, then coming back for more. The spells and enchantments he was suggesting were innovative and creative; sometimes the same as I’d have advised, sometimes different. They were clearly working though, judging by the amount of follow-up appointments he’d booked. I was torn between being pleased he was holding the fort so well and plunging into gloom. He didn’t need me. The business didn’t need me. And Esme didn’t need me.