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Dripping blood onto the charm, I whispered the transference spell, so the calming energy would be absorbed into it, which would slowly release over the next few weeks, helping to keep me from panicking whenever Ivan terrorized me. The air became infused with the tranquil aura I always wished I could use in the shop, but that was the opposite effect of what Ivan wanted.
We sat in the stillness for a few long minutes, with only the soft crackling of the incense and the occasional sip of coffee breaking the silence. The magic’s presence saturated the air around us, and a serene clarity washed over me. Deep down, though, I knew it wasn’t real. This was a temporary balm, soothing but not erasing the underlying truth.
As the spell progressed to completion, the expected duality of mind seeped in—everything felt fine, yet I knew that beneath this magical calm lay the unresolved echoes of my ordeal. The charm was absorbing the calming energy of the room, creating a dissonance. It was an uncomfortable feeling I wouldn’t subject anyone to, and I used to try to warn Addie off when I performed this ritual, but she wouldn’t listen. I would still feel guilty, knowing she’d sat through it with me, but for now, I allowed myself to embrace the peace, savoring the moment of respite in the bright, friendly kitchen with my best friend.
When it finally finished, all that was left was a slight feeling of refreshment rather than peace. I began to clean the dagger to put it away.
Addie let out a long sigh. “I don’t know. I think you put too much into that calm charm. It makes you reckless.”
I fished the charm out of the mortar and wiped it clean with an enchanted cloth before returning it to the bracelet. “Fighting him is reckless, which is what I did last night.”
She cringed. “You did?” I nodded, and she stood up to get another cup of coffee. “Yikes.”
“Yeah.” I cleaned up the bowl and packed it away.
She leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee. “Are you sure you can’t come up with some kind of ‘nice guy’ charm for him?”
I laughed. “That would definitely backfire. I can’t risk hexing him. He’d kill me if he ever found out.”
“You warded us against him here. You warded me against him with my necklace.”
As I put everything away and closed the lid of my box, I pushed it away and sat back in my seat, looking up at her. “Yeah, and he’ll kill me if he ever finds out about that.”
She fingered the edge of her cup with an uneasy expression I didn’t like. “Maybe I shouldn’t wear it then.”
I stood up to pour myself some more coffee, gently elbowing her out of the way. “No, you have to wear it. I promise he won’t find out. He doesn’t come here because of the ward. You don’t come to the shop. You know that if we run into him when we’re out, you keep walking when I stop to talk to him. There’s no reason for him to find out. But I can’t risk doing anything else against him. The more I do, the more likely he is to catch me.” She chewed on her lip, and the silence ate away at me. I hated the risk our friendship put her in. “Pancakes?”
She beamed and left her cup on the counter, the delicate clink resonating through the quiet kitchen. She opened the fridge, its cool air wafting out as she rummaged for eggs, butter, and milk, the containers clattering softly as she moved them around.
Meanwhile, I reached into the cupboards, pulling out flour, salt, and sugar. The familiar, comforting sounds of kitchen activity filled the room, a stark contrast to the earlier tension.
“I wish we could find a way to get you free of that binding.” She pulled out a pan and threw a knob of butter into it, placing it on top of the stove.
“Same. But there isn’t one.” I flicked the burner on, the blue flame springing to life with a soft whoosh and the butter sizzled, its rich aroma filling the room.
“Are we still going to Verve on Halloween?” She cracked an egg and measured out the milk.
“Of course we are. Do you have a costume?” I measured the dry ingredients into a large bowl, the fine particles creating a soft, white cloud.
She tossed some butter into the microwave to melt it and set the timer, pressing go. “Wait till you see it. H-O-T hot!”
I smiled. “I bet.”
She poured the wet ingredients into my dry ingredients and took the bowl from me to whisk them up, the rhythmic motion transforming the mixture into a smooth, perfect batter. By then, the butter in the pan had melted completely, spreading in a golden pool. She poured four small, perfect circles of batter into the pan, the sizzle and hiss a promise of delicious pancakes to come.
Taking a sip of her coffee, she closed her eyes, savoring the warmth and flavor. “What about you?”
“I think I have something.” I pulled some plates and silverware out of the cabinets, the clatter adding to the symphony of domestic sounds, and placed them on the table, ready for our meal.
“Not the same one as last year?”
I grimaced, because, yes, it was the same dress I’d worn three years in a row. She raised an eyebrow at me, and with a subtle shake of her head, I knew it wasn’t going to fly this year.
The rich aroma of brewing coffee soon mingled with the smell of pancakes, filling the air with a heady blend. My stomach gurgled, and my mouth watered the more I thought about our breakfast.
When the first round was done, the pancakes golden and fluffy, she flipped two onto each of our plates and sat down. I poured four more pancakes into the pan, the batter spreading and sizzling anew. Sitting down, I prepared my pancakes with butter and syrup, the sweet and savory scents enveloping me in a warm, comforting embrace.
She stabbed a section of her cut-up pancakes and lifted them to her mouth. “Let me find you something?”
