“Yeah, really busy. We’re doing inventory this week.”
It wasn’t technically a lie. Marcus had mentioned inventory. Sometime back in September.
“That’s wonderful, honey. I wanted to call about Imbolc dinner and give your apparently very busy schedule a chance to remember your dear family on one of our sacred days.” She really had to give credit to her mom’s ability to make a dinner invitation sound disappointed. “Iris will be there, and your father and I would love to have you there.”
Ramona tugged at a loose thread on the edge of her skirt, realizing her tights had a run. She traced her finger along theladder of threads. Damn. These were her last good pair of tights. “I’ll try. Work’s been really demanding.”
They talked for another five minutes, her mother filling her in on her father’s latest chess tournament and the new expansion at her apothecary. Ramona made the appropriate interested noises, gave vague updates about her “career,” and promised to try harder to make it to Imbolc dinner.
When she finally hung up, she stared at the grimoire on her nightstand.
She stood up, swaying slightly, and crossed to her dresser. She glanced toward the grimoire, but something inside of her gave a sharp tug.Don’t.
Ramona instead pointed her finger at her reflection in the mirror above her dresser. A simple Level I spell. Just a minor color correction, take the purple back to her natural brown.
She spoke the incantation clearly, deliberately, pouring what little sober concentration she had left into the spell.
Nothing happened.
Her reflection stared back at her, purple hair and all. Mocking.
She tried again, enunciating each syllable like her old professor had taught her. Intent and precision. Will and focus.
Nothing.
One more time, adding more intent, more focus, more desperation?—
Her hair flickered for half a second to a shade of purple so dark it was almost black, then snapped back to the faded mess.
She turned back to the grimoire on her nightstand. If she couldn’t even manage a basic glamour spell most witches knew at thirteen, what made her think she could successfully cast a summoning from a donation-bin grimoire?
The book sat there, innocuous. Just leather and paper and someone else’s desperation, donated alongside a turkey sandwich.
Ramona picked it up, feeling the weight of it. For a moment — just a moment — she imagined it. Lighting the candles. Speaking the words. Something,anything, changing.
Then she set the book back on the nightstand and turned off the light.
The spell wouldn’t work anyway. Nothing ever did.
She climbed into bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin, ignoring the hunger pang in her stomach. Through the window, she could hear the alley cat starting its nightly concert. The radiator clanked. Somewhere down the hall, Kashvi was still arguing with Felix about the stove’s sensitivity.
Tomorrow she’d go back to Mystic Moon Books. Marcus would have his talk. She’d probably get fired from a fake magic shop run by a twenty-three-year-old who thought crystals were a personality trait.
And the grimoire would sit on her nightstand, gathering dust.
CHAPTER TWO
Ramona wokeup to the sound of someone screaming.
She bolted upright, heart pounding, before realizing it was just the cat in the alley. Again. She lay back onto her pillow and stared at the water stain on her ceiling that looked vaguely like a duck.
The duck seemed to judge her silently.
Her phone buzzed on her nightstand. A calendar reminder: Rent due in one week.
She closed her eyes. Right.
Ramona opened her banking app and immediately wished she hadn’t. Between groceries, her car insurance, and the fact that she’d been low on hours this month, she was exactly $442 short.
