Her eyes widen. “Your house?”
I slide onto a stool at the breakfast bar. “He told me unless I find a way to make all this disappear, he’s going to ... ruin my life.”
“Let me call Rowe.”
Cristina reaches for her phone on the counter, but I grab it before she can wrap her fingers around it. “No. We’re not calling Rowe on her honeymoon. I can handle this and I have a way—maybe.”
“How’s that?”
I unzip the fabric bag I sewed in high school when I was really into making my own clothes, and pull out the spell book.
Cristina takes one look and shakes her head. “No, Coco.”
“Cristina—”
“No. I can’t believe you even brought that here. Are you crazy? If something happens ...” Her voice fades, but her pointed look does not.
“All that’s in it are wart-removal recipes.”
“Then why is it here?”
I stammer. “I—I just thought—”
“No.” Cristina nods to the book. “No. That thing spells trouble, and I’m not trying to make a pun.”
My entire body deflates. “I know this isn’t what you expected when I asked to come over, but Stone Maddox is ... what he’s doing with the resort is wrong.”
“How?”
“He needs to fix things but refuses to. If I can make Stone see the materials he’s using are bad for Mystic Meadows”—yes, I thought this up on the way over—“then maybe he’ll change them.”
“‘Change them’?”
“It’s better than nothing.”
She studies the book warily. “But, Coco ...”
“I know what you’re thinking—this is wrong. This is evil, this is all the bad stuff. But magic is back in our land, and no one’s ever said a piggycorn is evil. Besides, it’s all just stupid fun.” I let that sink in and then add softly, “You don’t think this will really work, do you?”
“Well, maybe . . .”
“Come on. It’ll make me feel better.”
My friend stares at the book for a long moment until she finally says, “Okay. Let’s see what we’ve got.”
I slowly open the spell book, and this time, a full-on gale rips through the room, rattling the rooster-painted dishes that hang on the walls.
The piggycorns scurry to the back of the kitchen, where they bunch into a huddle, glancing around the room nervously.
Cristina takes a step back and whispers, “I think we’re going to need something stronger than hot chocolate.”
Chapter 9
Coco
Ten minutes later, a frozen margarita sits to my left and Cristina is on my right.
I run my fingers down the book. “Ready?”
