Page 90 of Enchanted to Meet You

I eyed the Snickers bars in the basket on the sink. Never had I wanted so badly to cram something into my mouth. “That’s okay,” I said. “I’ll get over it.”

Rosalie reached for the hairspray. “You really do have the worst luck with men,” she said, giving her head a couple spurts.

There was no point in denying it. “I do.”

“If it’s any comfort to you, Professor Brewster says Lizzie’s one of the most gifted witches he’s ever met. He’s been working with her all week.”

“Great. That is so good to know.” Screw it. I grabbed a Snickers, unwrapped it, and shoved it into my mouth. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What’s his plan for tomorrow night? You know, to stop the rift?”

“Oh, Jess.” Her gaze on my reflection was pitying. “You poor thing. You know I can’t tell you that. But don’t worry. It’s a good one. Do you really think I’d put the lives of the people I love at risk otherwise?”

I swallowed. “I guess not. What’s Lizzie’s gift?”

“Her what?”

“Lizzie’s talent. Her magical gift. You know. What kind of witch is she?”

“Oh!” Rosalie laughed, gave her hair one last pat to make sure every straight, silken strand was in place, and headed for the door. “To be honest, we’re not really sure yet. She’s very good at glamours. Heavens, I better get back out there. The professor’s speech was only supposed to last twenty minutes! I’ve let him drone onwaytoo long about West Harbor history.”

I nearly choked on my mouthful of chocolate, peanuts, nougat, and caramel. “Glamours?”

“Uh-huh.” Rosalie flung me a sunny smile on her way out ofthe restroom. “Lucky little thing. Haven’t you noticed how great she always looks? Her selfies are just perfection, no need for filters. She was outside on the dock with her friends taking some last night when she saw me with Derrick. That’s how I got that photo. She was worried he was being mean to me, can you believe it? So she took that snap. More proof she’s the Bringer of Light—so protective! Well, got to run. See you later.”

Derrick

As Witches, we recognize that our intelligence is vastly superior to that of the non-magical, and that is why we have a moral duty to nurture and guide them.

Rule Number Nine of the Nine Rules

*World Council of Witches*

Derrick was seething, more at himself than at anyone else. He ought to have known that Bart would insinuate himself into the situation somehow.

But he lived all the way in London. What was he doing, concerning himself with a small-town hell rift, when he had the corporate offices of the World Council of Witches to run?

Not that it mattered, Derrick supposed. Bart had always done exactly as he liked.

Annoying prick.

As he stood in the chilly parking lot, listening to his call go to his mother’s voice mail, Derrick reflected that most grown men got along with their brothers—even with their half brothers. Most of them didn’t have to call their mothers when one of their brothers was doing something underhanded. They dealt with the situation themselves.

But then again, most brothers didn’t have a mother like his and Bart’s.

“Hello, darling,” purred his mother’s voice in his ear. “I can’t answer the phone right now because I’m busy doing... other things. But if you leave a message, I promise to get back to you... someday.”

His mother’s voice mail message never failed to irritate him, which was too bad since he had to listen to it more often than not. She “didn’t have time to text.”

“Mother,” he said. “It’s me. You’ll never guess who’s here in West Harbor. I’ll give you a hint. It’s one of your many other sons. And not one I like. Call me back and tell me what you want me to do about it. And if fratricide is on the table, I’m all for it.”

He made sure his phone was on vibrate so that when she called back, the ring wouldn’t disturb the proceedings inside, then went back into the dining room—only to find an empty chair beside his.

“Where’s Jessica?” he leaned over to ask Esther.

“She went to look for you,” the kid whispered back. “Didn’t you see her?”