I Put A Spell On You. Kerry Barrett

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      “And the spa,” I said. I put my bags down on the floor and peeled off my gloves and coat.

      Esme looked at me in astonishment.

      “Really?” she said. “Oh god.”

      “That’s not the worst of it,” I said, following her into the living room. “The power cut wiped our server.”

      She grimaced.

      “But you’ve got a back-up, right?”

      “Right,” I said. “And wrong.”

      I told her about the fire.

      “Shit,” Esme said. She blew her nose loudly and for the first time I noticed she looked dreadful.

      “Are you ill?” I said.

      She pulled her horrible fleecy nightie round herself.

      “I’ve got a rotten cold,” she said. “That’s why I came home from work early. But then I couldn’t actually do any work because there was no sodding electricity.”

      A thought struck me.

      “Are the fuses blown?” I said.

      “I thought that might be the problem,” she said, shaking her head. “But I’m not sure what they’re supposed to look like. I wondered if you’d know what to do.”

      “Did you try magic?” I asked.

      Esme gave me a shocked look.

      “With electricity?” she said. “That’s asking for trouble.”

      “You’re such a goody-goody,” I said, ignoring the fact that I’d shied away from trying to sort the power cut at the spa with magic.

      “Where’s Jamie?” I had a vague – possibly ridiculous – notion that men knew about electricity.

      “Rugby,” said Esme, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But he’d be no use anyway. He can’t even change a lightbulb. It’s just you and me, sister. Let’s do it the old-fashioned way,”

      With the help of the iPad, Google and the torches on our phones, we found the fuse box and peered inside.

      “I think we just flip this switch,” Esme said, looking at the instructions on the iPad.

      I flipped it, and the lights came back on.

      “It’s like magic,” Esme said with a grin, wiping her nose again.

      I gave her a most un-Harry-like hug, then bustled her through into the living room, tucked her up under a blanket and made her a hot toddy. Then I poured myself a stiff measure of whisky – I hardly ever drank whisky but I felt it would be medicinal – and curled up on the sofa next to her. I couldn’t face thinking about the computer at the spa.

      “Tell me about your lesson with Xander,” I said.

      Esme shrugged.

      “Not much to tell,” she said.

      “Liar,” I said. “Tell me. Did you agree to teach him because of that detective?”

      “Louise,” she said in a passable imitation of Jamie’s voice. “She’s brilliant, she’s such a laugh and she’s great on the rugby pitch.”

      “Ooh,” I said. “Have I touched a nerve?”

      Ez blew her nose again.

      “I know I’m being ridiculous but we’d had such a nice evening, you know, and we’d just got engaged and suddenly he’s all over another woman…”

      I had a feeling – a hope – that Louise was gay, but I didn’t say anything. Interrupting Esme mid-rant was more trouble than it was worth.

      “So, I was feeling a bit contrary when I met Xander anyway, and he wanted me to teach him, and you said I wouldn’t have time…”

      “Ah,” I said. “It’s my fault.”

      She scowled at me over the top of her hot toddy.

      “No,” she said. “I just felt like I couldn’t say no.”

      “So what happened?” I asked. “At the lesson?”

      “Xander rang me and asked if I was free,” she said.

      “But you weren’t free,” I pointed out. “You were at work.” Esme never left work early.

      “I know,” she said. “But I felt rotten with this cold, and suddenly I just wanted to get out of there.”

      I was amazed. And uneasy. Xander was handsome and charming and funny – but so was Jamie, and I’d never known Ez to leave work early for him.

      “I met him in Princes Street Gardens, by the clock,” she said. “We just walked really. It’s all because of you, H, that he wants to learn magic. He wants to help you.”

      That was sweet, I had to admit. Xander was protective of me, which I’d found very odd to begin with. I was used to being fiercely independent and just getting on with stuff. Sometimes I liked him looking after me. Sometimes it annoyed me massively. Today, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

      “So you just walked,” I said. “Did you touch him?”

      “Harry!” Esme said in mock outrage. “I’m an engaged woman. I wouldn’t touch another man.”

      “Did you touch him?” I asked again.

      “It was cold in the park and I took Xander’s arm as we walked and chatted,” she said sulkily. “That’sokay, isn’t it? We’re friends. It didn’t feel wrong.”

      “What did it feel like?” I said.

      “It felt nice,” she said. “Warm, mostly.”

      I let it drop.

      “And what did you teach him?”

      “Mostly he wanted to know about Star,” she said. “And why you couldn’t save her.”

      “No one could save her,” I said, feeling my stomach plummet again, like it did every time I thought about Star.

      “So what did you say?”

      “I told him that when someone, or something’s gone, it’s gone,” she said, squeezing my hand. “I said that we can’t raise the dead. What we do is a kind of extension to real life. We can speed things up, or slow them down, or intensify things. Not create things out of thin air.”

      I nodded, relieved that she’d explained it all so well.

      “And did he understand?” I asked. I was desperate to know Xander СКАЧАТЬ