Page 2 of A Witch in Notting Hill

“Hi!” I shouted through the door, my voice unnaturally high in my state of panic.

“Are you ready?”

“Ready?” I asked, looking at cat Vera with wide eyes. “Ready for what, exactly?”

“The party?” He laughed, but only because he was confused and not because any of this was funny. “Vera mentioned we might walk in together, you know, to drop a hint about the film.”Are you serious?I mouthed to Vera. If cats could shrug, she would have. “She said to drop by at nine, but I can come back if it’s a bad time.”

“What is wrong with you?” I whisper-yelled at her, trying to keep my hands from flailing around and casting any other spells.

“What was that?” Kit asked through the door.

“Oh, not you! Sorry, just, uh, finishing up a phone call. Just a second.” In an effort to appear normal, I flung the door open, which I immediately realized was a mistake. I hadn’t seen Kit this up close before, and he was even hotter in real life than he was on the screen. Tall, angular, impeccably dressed, leaning against the doorjamb of the trailer with his hand high above my head. For a fraction of a second, I understood Vera’s vision.

Until my stomach jumped and the lights flickered and I felt a familiar, dangerous sizzling in my fingertips. At least this time I had a warning.

“Hi, I’m so sorry, I’m going to have to meet you there,” I sputtered, trying to keep my smile from wavering despite the increasing terror at whatever was about to happen. When I started to close the door and he slapped his big hand against it before it shut in his face, I felt my hair stand on end.Stay calm, Willow. Come on.

Normally, I could come face-to-face with a hot guy and not have to worry the sky was falling. But since I was already in a state, and the currents were still racing through my veins and this trailer and the air between us, I was fighting an uphill battle.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “I can wait if you want, or I can—”

“I’m fine!” More shaking. A dull buzzing sound. A warning meow from Vera. “I’ll meet you there!” I pushed the door back against his hand, and he let it slam, the sound ricocheting obnoxiously between us. I knew I was being rude, but what was the alternative?

With my back against the door and the atmosphere seeming to settle now that Kit was out of sight, my breathing returned to normal. Well, normal was relative. My breathing returned to what it had been before, which still wasn’t great. I needed to make some moves.

“All right, Vera, you’re going to hate this, but we have to go.” I unzipped my gown and dropped it in a heap on the floor, and I could have sworn she gasped. “I can’t go out there and leave you in here like this, can I?” Silence. “Exactly. And the solution to this isn’t in this trailer, so we need to get the hell out of Dodge before I turn anyone else into a household pet.”

I changed back into my street clothes, relieved to trade my stilettos for my well-loved Sambas and the gown for sweatpants and a crew neck, and called my driver. He was in front of the trailer before I even knew where we were going, but I knew it needed to be far from here.

With Vera in my arms and my hat pulled low in the hopes that no one (especially the vicious paparazzi) saw me sneaking away from the party, I slipped into the back of the car and took out my phone to do what I always did in moments when I needed guidance or comfort: listen to an old voicemail from my grandmother.

It took only a minute of scrolling to find the one I was looking for. May 1, 2009. The one I listened to every time something went wrong. Really wrong. I clicked Play and immediately relaxed into the sound of her voice, turning the volume up in case somehow Vera could hear it, too.

Hi, Wills. It’s me, Granny Annie. I heard what happened at school today. Being magic is hard, isn’t it? Even at my age, I still lose control sometimes. Remember last Thanksgiving? Boy, was that a scene.

The memory made me laugh every time. Granny accidentally had a few too many, and before any of us knew it, the turkey was climbing out of the roasting pan and threatening my mother with a steak knife.

You don’t have to call me back or anything,she continued,but I wanted you to hear this, so listen close. Your powers are a gift, my girl. Even when they feel like a curse. And ultimately, your magic has nothing to do with what spells you can and cannot conjure at all.Youare the magic, Wills. The spells will work themselves out. And even if they don’t, we’ll always have something to laugh about, and there are far worse things than that.

And if you find yourself really in a bind, you know I’m always here, darling. Our magic might not be transferable, but I’ll always find a way to help you. And if I can’t—

I knew the voicemail by heart, which meant I knew the exact words that were coming next. Why hadn’t I thought of this sooner?

—Coven and Codex can. I know, I know, London is a long way from California. But trust me. If I can’t sort you out, the bookshop can. Come to think of it, bookshops are always the answer, aren’t they? Oh, listen to me, rambling away like an old bat. I love you, honey. And I don’t want what happened today, or in the past, or whatever happens in the future to make you doubt your magic. Okay? Give me a call if you need me. Okay, I love you. Bye-bye.

Of all the times I’d listened to the voicemail, I’d never once internalized the bit about the bookstore. I’d never thought Gran wouldn’t be around to answer my questions, so I never bothered to make a plan B. But in classic Granny Annie fashion,shemade the plan B. It had been sitting in my voicemail this whole time.

And with sudden, crushing clarity, I knew exactly where we needed to go.

Chapter 2

Willow

Admittedly, I was spoiled. Or at least Ihadbeen, where travel was concerned. Between TSA PreCheck, Global Entry, and a manager who handled most of the logistics, travel was easier for me than most. And it wasn’t that I took it for granted—trust me, I knew how good I had it—but there was nothing that could have prepared me for traveling with a cat for the first time. Especially a cat who used to be a person. A very bossy, detail-oriented, type A person.

I scrambled to get her registered as an emotional support animal on the ride f to the airport, paid the exorbitant fee for same-day approval, and tried hard not to panic about how ill-prepared I was for a last-minute trip to London. This wasn’t about me; it was about turning Vera back into a person. So if I had to wear the same outfit for however long it took, so be it.

I’d foregone my security team in favor of Vera’s privacy, though upon arrival at the airport, I wasn’t so sure it had been the best idea. No one knew she was a cat, and I wasn’t exactly keen on tipping off the whole team, so I hadn’t done more thansend an email from her account saying she was going on a silent retreat in the UK on short notice and not to reach out until she returned, but the teeming crowds at the terminal made me wish I wasn’t alone.