o worries. I get it. But if it’s spell casting you’re after, there are a few things you should know.” His gaze meets mine, making sure he has my full attention before he goes on. “One, it’s a last resort—only to be used when all other avenues are exhausted. And two, spells are really just recipes for change, to get what you want, or alter a certain situation that needs—altering. But in order for it to work, your goals have to be clear—you need to visualize the outcome you want and direct all of your energy toward it.”
“Like manifesting,” I say, wishing I hadn’t when I see his gaze change.
“Manifesting takes too long—magick’s more immediate—or at least it can be.”
I press my lips together, knowing better than to explain how manifesting can also be instantaneous once you understand how the universe works. But then again, you can’t manifest what you don’t know, making the antidote, among other things, strictly off limits.
“Think of this like a giant cookbook.” He taps the page with his nail. “One with liner notes.” He smiles. “But nothing in here is fixed, you can alter the recipes to suit your own needs, and choose your own set of tools accordingly—”
“Tools?” I look at him.
“Crystals, herbs, elements, candles, phases of the moon—that kind of thing.”
I think back on the elixirs I made, just before I went back in time, having thought of it more in terms of alchemy than magick, though I guess in some ways, it’s pretty much the same thing.
“It also helps if you cast your spell in verse.”
“Like a poem?” I look at him, startled. Maybe this isn’t going to work after all. I pretty much suck at that kind of thing.
“Doesn’t have to be Keats, just something that rhymes and has some sort of meaning for what you want it to do.”
I frown, feeling disheartened before I even begin.
“And, Ever—”
I look at him.
“If you’re wanting to cast a spell on a person, you might want to rethink it. Lina was right. If you can’t convince someone to see things your way, or cooperate with you, by using more mundane means, there’s a pretty good chance it’s not meant to be.”
I nod and look away, knowing that may be true for some situations, but not mine.
Mine is different.
thirty-five
“I stopped by your work.” Haven studies me closely, gaze moving from my hair, to the black silk cord holding my amulet, just barely visible at the base of my tee, before settling back on my face.
I nod briefly before returning my attention to Honor, watching as she laughs with Stacia and Craig and the rest of the A-list crew as though everything were normal—but it’s not. Not for her. She’s dipping into magick now—a serious student of the craft, according to Jude. All without her ringleader’s consent.
“Thought maybe we could grab lunch or something, but the hot guy behind the counter said you were busy.” Fingers picking at the frosting on her chai-latte cupcake, gaze never once straying from me.
Miles looks up from his phone, brows merged, eyes darting between us. “Excuse me? There’s a hot guy and nobody informed me?”
I turn toward them, Haven’s words just now making an impact. She went to my work! She knows where I work! What else might she know?
“Oh, he’s hot all right.” Haven nods, still looking at me. “Muy caliente, for sure. But apparently Ever’s determined to keep it a secret. Didn’t even know he existed ’til I saw for myself.”
“How’d you know where I work?” I ask, trying to keep it casual, nonchalant, not let on just how alarmed I really am.
“The twins told me.”
This just went from bad to even worse.
“I ran into them at the beach. Damen’s teaching them to surf.”
I smile, but it’s a feeble one that feels false on my face.
“Guess that explains why you didn’t tell us about your new job—you didn’t want your best friends moving in on your hottie coworker.”