Page 8

I'm conflicted. This feels like the last straw in what is already one of the worst days I've ever experienced. First, my destroyed garden. Then an immediate mating bond with my grumpy, rude, selfish neighbor. Now a spell that's gone so wrong I can't even get thirty feet away from my neighbor-turned-mate.

We've tested it a few times along the way, hoping the spell was a fluke or would wear off after a few minutes. It isn't a fluke, and it hasn't worn off. Once Randy or I gets more than about thirty feet from the other, the magic activates, and one or the other of us will appear next to the one who moved away. We quite literally can't get away from each other.

Laz's tower stands ominously in the midst of the forest. Normally, the old man would come out to greet his visitors after watching them approach in his crystal ball, but not today.

"If he's not home, we'll have to go looking for him, and who knows how long that will take," I grumble.

"He's home," he assures me. "When I came to get the spell, he said he was planning on taking a long nap."

I glare at him. "So you got the spell from an overtired wizard with memory loss."

Randy bites his lip. "I may have also insisted that he perform the spell before going to sleep. He was rather… cross with me by the end."

"An angry, exhausted wizard with memory issues."

I am dreading this conversation. Laz is usually a good wizard and a good mayor. He's kind and tends to work well with people. But wizards are famously short-tempered, and Randy has clearly burned through most of Laz's patience already.

I approach the giant oak door cautiously, and when I'm not immediately struck down by magical lightning, I knock.

At least I try to knock.

My fist freezes mere centimeters from the wood, as if I struck an invisible cushion. The entire tower cabin ripples with a purple sheen.

"What the fu—" I start, but a smooth female voice cuts in.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?"

We turn to find a woman standing on the path behind us, her honey-bronze skin practically glowing in the late-afternoon autumn light. Her black hair falls in loose waves around soft, smoky brown eyes. It's Layla, the town bookshop owner, though she would take issue with the term bookshop.

"Layla," I greet with a tentative smile.

Layla can have fangs when it comes to her books, quite literally, but she's generally lovely. She hosts island game nights and reads to older residents who have trouble with sight or mobility.

"Why can't we knock? We need to see Laz," Randy demands in that high, nasal tone of his that makes me cringe. Randy stopped using that tone with me, and for a moment, I'd almost forgotten how rude he can be to everyone else.

I drag a hand over my face and catch the irritation flashing across Layla's. I can practically see her fangs extending. Layla is a very rare sphinx, completely capable of ripping Randy's throat out if he disrespects her enough. Which I would normally support, but with this spell over us, who's to say I wouldn't get maimed in the process?

"Please let me handle this, Randy," I say quietly.

He turns to me, the haughtiness he'd aimed at Layla immediately evaporating. Layla looks back at me, one eyebrow quirked.

"Hey, so he's not wrong. We really do need to speak to Laz. Do you know what this..." I knock against the cushioned air again, making it shimmer purple. "...is, or where we might find him?"

She glances at the tower. "Oh, he's in there. He just doesn't want to be disturbed, so he asked me to find a spell that would keep out sound and any would-be wakers. Apparently, he had some trouble earlier with a certain leprechaun who needed a spell for a pumpkin?" Her pointed stare lands on Randy, who shuffles from foot to foot and gazes at the grass.

I groan. "Do you know a way in, Layla? This really is important."

She looks between us. "I don't see blood or bone. No one looks like they're about to die," she counters.

"I know, but the spell that Laz gave Randy went wrong, and now we're having some undesirable side effects."

She nods. "I see. Well, the fact is, I can't get past the spell he put on the cabin. Aside from not having that kind of magic myself, the spell can only be turned off from inside, whenever Laz feels rested enough to come back out. Or as rested as he can get. You can catch him tonight at the town hall meeting. I might be able to give you some advice about the spell, though. What was it, and what's going on?"

Randy explains why he wanted the spell. About Laz's words when he apparently imbued him with the magic to perform it. About trying to cast it on the pumpkin but accidentally focusing on me when I called his name.

I notice he's very careful not to blame me, which gives me pause. Can Randy be considerate and thoughtful? Living next door to him all these years, I've certainly had my doubts.

Layla nods along and sighs by the time Randy finishes. "Laz likely gave you a simple strengthening spell. It would've protected your pumpkin and given it a few helpful bonuses. Repelling bugs and critters, immunity from disease, that kind of thing. Instead, the spell landed on Willoughby. I'd guess it's trying to strengthen the mating bond between you instead of protecting the pumpkin by constantly teleporting you back together."