Page 31 of Spell Ya Later

Hands clasped, we follow her exact path and step directly into the market. The sounds and sights are almost disorienting in their immediacy. Like walking through a soundproof door.

There must be at least fifty stalls surrounded by all types of people in all manner of outfits ranging from distinctly human to...what I can only describe as witchy. Flowing muumuu-type numbers that are oddly enchanting.

The sun shines on dirt paths and the scent of herbs and smoke fills the air. Someone has a fire going and—oh, is that pork?

“Holy. Balls,” Laura gasps.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“Girls.” Grandma calls our attention. “This is the market. Witches and wizards who have wares to sell will set up a stall, just like any farmers’ market or art show in the human world. There are markets like this all over the world, and this one services all of Northeast Ohio. You can expect anywhere fromforty to one hundred and fifty booths depending on the time of year. As it’s fall, we’re starting to get into the slower months.”

We nod at her, my sponge brain absorbing any and all information she’s willing to give.

“Now, you will be making deliveries. Throwing you in the deep end is the best way to get you to learn your bearings. If you have questions about where someone is—ask! Maybe you’ll meet someone new. Here is your basket. I have my own errands, so you’ll be on your own. I trust you both to represent the shop, and the family, respectfully. I’ll meet you back here in three hours.”

Without waiting for a response, Grandma turns and glides off in that way only Grandma can. I’m a little surprised she didn’t disappear in a cloud of smoke, to be honest.

“Who’s first?” Laura’s practically bouncing as I lift the blanket off the top.

The basket is filled to the brim with wrapped packages, each labeled with a person’s name. I peer at one. “Someone named Lucinda Vale.”

“Badass name. Do you think there’s other things in the world? Not just witches. Like, vampires, werewolves, leprechauns...?”

“Leprechauns?” I chuckle. “That’s where you go after vampires and werewolves? Leprechauns?”

We walk leisurely through the booths, dirt soft underneath our feet. Grandma’s right, it gives off major art festival vibes. That pork scent only intensifies as we wind further into the maze of artists, farmers, and clothiers.

“I always liked the idea of leprechauns. Just doling out luck and happiness.”

I wrap my arm around her, the basket securely looped around my other elbow. “Let’s find Lucinda.”

I can’t help spending too much time at each booth. With every delivery it’s like I’m discovering something new. Even if it’s just lettuce.

I’m thankful I chose to wear sneakers today. I cast a glance toward Laura’s ruined high-heeled boots with a wince. The dirt is solid, thanks to the sunlight, but it’s still getting everywhere.

“I can try to fix them with a spell later?” I ask. Half of our basket of deliveries are gone.

She stops walking. “You could do that?”

I can’t quantify the look on her face. Is it...jealousy? No, Laura has never been jealous of me in her entire life. “Probably.”

Part of me—a dark, twisty part that I almost don’t want to give voice to—enjoys that maybe she is jealous. Just once.

“Anyway.” The look disappears from her face just as quickly as it arrived. Another of her famous talents. “I didn’t know witches gathered like this. Mom made it seem like something to be ashamed of, that everyone was ashamed of it. But all I see is pride. Who’s next?”

I nod, digging through the basket for the next delivery. “Ash Cedar.”

“That sounds more like a scented candle than a person.”

“Brutal.”

Laura laughs. “Although not the weirdest name I’ve heard since being here.”

A dark, decidedly male, voice chuckles. “It’s a family name.”

Laura and I turn toward the speaker. Ash Cedar leans casually against the side of his booth, a subtle smirk on his young, handsome face. Jet-black hair hangs over his bright green eyes. Standing to his full height, he rolls his large shoulders.

He’s built like a dramatic lumberjack—if the giant house crest ring on his hand is any indication. No man without a flair for being extra wears a ring that big.