I Put A Spell On You. Kerry Barrett

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СКАЧАТЬ I was telling him stuff – like the rules of three and whatever – I got the impression I was telling him things he knew already.”

      I screwed my nose up.

      “He’s probably picked some stuff up,” I said. “He’s always been interested.”

      “I guess so,” Ez said. “He asked how often I do magic.”

      “What did you say?” I asked. Despite my best efforts, Esme still didn’t do a lot of magic, preferring to do things like actually clean the loo or wash the dishes with her own fair hands. I’d almost given up trying to persuade her that spells were the way forward. Almost.

      “I told him the truth,” she said, sounding surprised. “Hardly ever, I said. I told him I use it more now than I used to, but still not much. I sometimes tidy the flat with it. I’ve been known to make a bus come quicker. And I do protective enchantments if a friend’s in trouble. But that’s about it.”

      I was pleased, reluctantly. I’d thought Esme might try to big herself up magic-wise, just to impress Xander.

      “So what are you going to teach him?”

      “More rules, I guess. They’re so important. And I can go through some incantations with him.”

      She looked serious.

      “I suppose I should warn him that I can’t guarantee it’ll work,” she said. “I have no idea how much is learned and how much is innate.”

      I didn’t know either.

      “I couldn’t teach Natalie anything,” I said, remembering how keen she’d been to learn at first and how quickly she’d grown to resent it. “Not even basic stuff. She just couldn’t do it. I reckon Xander might be different, though.”

      Esme nodded.

      “Yes,” she said. “I think he might be. And he’s so desperate to learn – he just wants to keep you safe.”

      “I can keep myself safe,” I said, bristling.

      “He wanted to know if we could harm someone who’d harmed us,” Esme said. “But I reminded him that witchcraft – at least our kind – was based on goodness and that any negative spells would return on the witch threefold and taught him that we harmed no one.”

      That was exactly what Xander had told me she’d said.

      “And what did he say to that?” I asked.

      “I think he was a bit disappointed,” Esme said. “But we didn’t talk about it for long.”

      “I’m not sure these lessons are a good idea, Ez,” I said. “I’m not really comfortable with Xander’s views on magic, and” – I paused, knowing I was about to annoy her – “I think you’ve got a bit of a thing for him.”

      “I have not got a thing for him,” Esme said, as crossly as her bunged-up nose allowed her to sound. “I love Jamie. Xander’s just a friend.”

      I kicked myself inwardly for mentioning it. Now she’d go all contrary again and be arranging another lesson before I could say incantation.

      “I’ll ring him tomorrow,” she said. “Arrange another lesson.”

      See.

      “All right,” I said, getting up and rubbing her hair, the way I knew she hated. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

      She grinned at me.

      “Don’t worry,” she said. “I can look after myself.”

       Chapter 8

      The next day was chaos in the spa. Malc had saved some of our stuff to the ‘cloud’ – I pictured folders floating gently in the sky – so he was gradually retrieving a few bits. I had some things saved on my laptop, too, and by an amazingly fortunate quirk of fate (if you believe in those, which I don’t) I’d saved our entire database to a memory stick a few weeks earlier. I’d intended to use it to send out a Christmas email from home and never got round to it. When I’d found the little stick (in the fruit bowl would you believe?) I’d kissed it joyfully. I copied it on to my laptop straightaway. I even thought about asking Esme and Jamie to do the same, just to be sure, but dismissed the idea almost as fast. I was just being paranoid. What we didn’t have was our appointments diary – it had all been on Star’s computer and it was gone. All morning people were turning up for appointments we didn’t know about, and I had therapists wandering into reception and saying things like: “Anyone here for acupuncture?”

      So, I sent an email to everyone on our database explaining our technology problems and asking them to email back with details of any future appointments they had booked. I was acutely aware it all seemed dreadfully incompetent but I wasn’t sure what else to do.

      I knew that Esme had been right when she’d told Xander that when something was gone, it was gone, but I still tried magic, waving my hands over the computer and straining every bit of my brain desperately trying to restore all the lost files. But nothing happened. As the email responses began to trickle in I sent Nancy out to buy an old-school appointments diary and she laboriously jotted down every appointment we knew of by hand.

      I was so busy just firefighting that I didn’t have time to dwell on what had caused the power cut. I couldn’t quite bring myself to think that the chances of there being a power cut at my work and my home – and nowhere in between – were very slim. I was too frightened about what that would mean.

      But, eventually, as the sky outside darkened and things began to calm down, I got out the pictures I’d taken from Star’s flat and looked at them again.

      They might not even all be of Star, I told myself. The one of her with a neck collar on was the only one that showed her whole face. But the close-up of the cut on her eyebrow showed a lock of curly blonde hair – Star’s hair – and anyway I remembered her having cut her face. She’d said a car had thrown up a loose stone as it drove past her. Had that been true?

      The bruised knees could have belonged to anyone, and the burned arms and bloody hand. But why would she have photos of injuries someone else had suffered?

      A knock on my office door made me look up. Fallon, one of the yoga instructors, stood there.

      “I’ve found my diary,” she said. “I’ve got all my classes written in there – thought it might be helpful.”

      “Brilliant,” I said. “Give it here and I’ll pass it to Nancy on reception.”

      She came to hand it over and as she did so she glanced at the photo on top of the pile.

      “Oh god,” she said. “Was that Star’s hand?”

      I looked at her in surprise.

      “Yes,” I said. “I think so. Did she cut it?”

      Fallon picked up the photo and shuddered.

      “She did it on one of the baubles from the Christmas СКАЧАТЬ