Page 50 of Cuffed By the Wolf

The woman with honey-brown skin turns and smiles. “Yes?”

“Put the closed sign up and go take your lunch.”

She waves goodbye.

“Let’s get to work.”

Ms. Gloria lines four cans on a table along the back of the tent. The candlelight seems to lean toward her hands as she moves, like it’s paying attention.

“Hold your hands in front of you and we’ll say the spell together.”

I nod and focus on the cans.

“Taysay Meireoria. Taysay Meireoria,” we chant.

“Means to bring great pain,” she adds.

Thinking about the women with Gavin, a tingling sensation drives down my arms into my hands, and it feels like sparks of electricity move through my fingers, hot and cold at once, gathering at my fingertips like static before a storm.

White and black lines shoot out from my fingertips, zapping two of the cans. They drop to the floor, smoking faintly, little scorched dents punched clean through the metal.

“Goddess, I did that?” I ask, eyes wide.

The same sparks leave her fingers, zapping the cans. “Yes, you did that.”

“I can’t believe I’m a witch.”

It’s a lot to take in.

“Can I tell my mother that I know?”

“Because magic is forbidden in Charleston, I’d say she already knows better than to talk about it out loud. But yes — tell her you know who you really are now.”

It made me wonder. Is my sister a witch too? She has to be.

After my session with Ms. Gloria, I feel like I’m seeing the townspeople for the first time. I peek at the man running the basketball hoop game. Two big beaver teeth flash into his mouth, then vanish just as fast, gone before I can be sure I saw them at all. He catches me staring, smiles wide enough that I almost catch a second glimpse, and gives me a slow, knowing wink before turning back to his line of customers like nothing happened at all.

Wow, I guess he could sense my power. Will Gavin notice it too?

Standing back, I watch a guy try to win a big teddy bear for his girlfriend.

“Yesterday evening I entered the house of mirrors,” the woman beside me says to her friend. “I heard a woman moan, ‘Sheriff, your tongue is wicked good,’” she whispers, giggling behind her hand.

“Did you see who it was?”

“I caught a glimpse of her side profile.”

My eyes widen and I’m instantly embarrassed. I duck my head and move quickly to the next gaming booth.

“Sasha?”

I turn to the familiar voice. “Jenny,” I squeal.

I’m trying to do what the sheriff said — carry on the way I had previously, so I don’t make her nervous or suspicious.

My arms curl around her neck briefly, then I step back. “I hope you’re ready to eat, because I’m starving.”

And just like that, the woman who saw me exit the house of mirrors points in my direction. She and her friend laugh.