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Devra felt a flutter in her rib cage. No, it was more like a tremor—a nervous hope.
“I’m saying, Devra, that I believe you.”
The tremor turned into a spasm.
“Bradley…” She wanted to tell him how much that meant to her, how hearing those words released a tight grip on her soul. But the man just kept going, a boulder rolling down a hill.
“I should have believed you right from the start. Or at least kept an open mind. We could have been going through this information together, learning together.”
“Learning what, exactly?” She knelt beside him, picking up one of the papers and trying to discern meaning from scribbles. “What does all this mean?”
“What do you mean, what does this mean? Didn’t you—? Oh, wait…I never finished the story, did I? I was—” His attention returned to the file folder. After a few frantic page flips, he lifted a scanned photo. “It’s the father’s watch. The daughter catalogued every item in his house. Old-timey kind of thing, isn’t it? Like it could be an ancient artifact. Anyway, the daughter’s bad luck continues, but soon she’s noticing a pattern. Things are worse the closer in proximity she is to the watch, with the worst events occurring when she’s actually wearing it. A watch, which had been locked up in a box inside a locked drawer in an abandoned study. A nice watch, which she realizes she’d never once seen her father actually wear. Coincidence? Her family thinks she’s going the way of her father, losing her grip. But she knows the truth. Convinced the watch is the source of her ills, she smashes it against a rock and throws it into a river, muttering some incantation she learned off the web. From where, exactly? You guessed it, Ms. Esmerelda’s Odd and Wonderful Things. And guess what? The next day”—Bradley snapped his fingers—“her life returns to normal. Just like that. No more tragedies.”
Devra’s breath was trapped in her lungs.
“Which means curses can be broken,” Bradley said with all the confidence of a man riding a high. “And I am going to help you break yours.”
DEVRA
Together they went through the information Bradley had discovered page by page. Devra read printouts from Ms. Esmerelda’s Odd and Wonderful Things, flipped through bookmarked texts both old and new, and studied a glossary of “Witchy Terms All Hex-Breakers Should Know.” She separated fantastical stories like “The Cat Who Almost Killed Me” from more legitimate tales of sudden sicknesses and miracle cures. The logical, scientific part of her knew she should feel foolish, at least a little bit. This was preposterous, wasn’t it? This outlandish notion of using magic to break a spell? It was juvenile. It was impossible. But then how could she believe in curses and not the forces that propagated them? And Bradley was right, some of the evidence was compelling. Some of the stories were eerily familiar. So regardless of how she should have felt, she felt only one thing.
Hope.
Devra was hopeful. For the first time in her life, a path was opening up before her, and she could see a way out. Not a way to hide, to take cover, or to run away. But a way to end her suffering. Period. Why had this never crossed her mind before? Surely if something had brought about her curse, there must be some way to stop it. Some equal and opposite force she could apply to fix her broken life.
Devra and Bradley were sitting close on her living room floor, in what little space remained after accounting for the stacks of books and papers, her encroaching desk, and Tabs’ cat sanctuary. Bradley was leaning against her couch, another mystical case report in his hand. His brow creased as it did when he was deep in thought. One of his unruly strands of hair fell into his eyes, and he idly blew it away only to have it flop back down. He swiped the strand with his hand before it fell into his eyes once more. The cycle repeated. With him barely noticing, so focused on their work.
This very intense man.
Who had given her hope.
“What is it?”
Devra hadn’t realized he’d broken free from his trance and was now looking at her.
“What is what?” she asked, slightly dazed.
“You’re staring at me.” The tiniest hint of a dimple formed in his left cheek.
“I am not.”
“Are too.”
“Am n—”
She wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to lie. She was staring at him. How could she not? He was this dazzling ray of sunshine in an otherwise dreary life. He was candles during a blackout. His light-blue eyes held hidden depths, and right now those eyes were seeing her. And she wouldn’t look away this time, wouldn’t push him away. Not again. The commitment ballooned inside her. He was so lovely, the defined angle of his jaw, the masculine stubble on his broad chin. Those fine lips. Their kiss.
The memory of it brought warmth to her skin.
She leaned in, wanting more.
At the same time, he shifted away. He dropped the paper-clipped stack he’d been reading onto one of the four piles.
The rejection, however subtle, stung.
Bradley cleared his throat. “Okay, I think we’ve gathered enough info to start formulating a plan.”
“Oh, okay.” She tried to refocus on the task at hand and not on the glowing distraction that was the broad, chiselled man sitting next to her. But even as her mind moved forward with their conversation, a small part stayed behind. Were they just friends now? Was he only here because he wanted to be helpful? Had she finally pushed him away one too many times?
