Spellbound: A magical sequel to Bewitched (6 page)

Bradbury.

A name linked forever with my family because of the witch trials in 1692.

My ancestor, Sarah, was hung while Mary Bradbury survived.
 

Only one of them was a witch according to our history. In spite of her protested innocence, Sarah had the Gift. Some might call it second sight or downgrade it to empathy. My mother carries not only her name, but the same abilities.

However, rumors and testimony did have Mary shifting into various animal forms. If Madison carries such genes, I wonder what animal familiar she would assume.
 

A napping calico cat in a library with bright green eyes would be my first guess.
Mistoffelees
brushes my side as if in agreement. I’m almost certain he is only a cat, but he’s been around for most of my life, making him a very old cat. At least seventeen, although he doesn’t look old.
 

“How old is the cat?” I ask out of nowhere.

Mom gives me a sidelong look. “I have no idea. He showed up one day and never left. I’ve never asked him his age. Like I never ask him where he goes at night when I let him out. His business is his own.”

Madison stares at me.

“Mom can do readings on animals as well as humans.”

Mom scratches the cat between his ears and he leans into her touch. “We all have souls. This shouldn’t be surprising.”
 

“Do toads have souls?” Madison asks.
 

Mom thinks about it for a minute. “I suppose they do. If you believe in reincarnation, then they do, but they are underdeveloped and not fully formed.”

“That explains a lot.” Madison accepts this information with a nod. “I think Luke Hamilton has the soul of a toad.”

Mom flips a few pages in her dusty book. “Luke’s involvement seems to complicate things between the two of you.”

“Do you think somehow the love spell worked?” Doubt and annoyance fill my voice. “A fake spell in the wrong hands?”

“I followed the instructions. I even used the peppercorns.” Madison defends herself.

“It’s nothing you’ve done, sweetheart.” Mom opens a cupboard door and reaches behind a row of glass bottles. “I wish the same could be said for my impatient son.”

She places three crystals on the wood countertop.
 

“I’m probably overreacting, but these will help us find the truth.”

“Overreacting how?” I ask.

“It’s possible it’s nothing.”

“Or?”

“You may have triggered a reverse love spell.”

“What does that mean?” Madison’s eyes widen. “Like a hate spell?”

“Andrew’s cursed himself.”

“Great,” I mumble.
 

“You’re the most powerful witch in Salem, Sarah. Can you reverse it?”
 

Mom arranges the crystals by color. The clear one sits on the right, the amethyst in the middle and the smoky quartz on the left. If this didn’t possibly have to do with my future, I’d make a joke about hippie three-card monty. The prospect of being cursed, and possibly an amphibian, dulls a man’s sense of humor.

“Pick one, Madison.”

Madison chooses the amethyst.

“The protector. A wise choice.” Mom scoops up the other crystals and returns them to their cabinet. “Keep it with you. Hopefully this means you’ll be immune to whatever magic is being used on Andrew.”

“Philips thinks Hamilton and I have switched bodies.”

Mom tsks. “Oh, it’s not as bad as that.”

“Is that even possible?”

“Of course he’d think that. Given—” She stops herself and straightens a stack of papers. “Your godfather has always had a creative imagination.”

“Professor Philips is your godfather?” Madison asks.

“He is. What Mom was trying not to say is he’s a witch.”

“Andrew.” Mom’s voice holds a warning.

“I don’t want secrets with Madison. She’s a Bradbury. She needs to know the truth.”

“But she’s still twenty. Your impatience is probably what created this mess. Don’t make it worse by telling her more than she can handle all at once.”

“Wait, Philips is a witch, too? Is that why you said he never ages?”

Mom presses her lips together. “You shouldn’t know any of this.”

“She can be trusted.”

“It’s not a matter of trust. With knowledge comes power. She’s not ready.”

“I won’t tell anyone. I haven’t even told Sam about Andrew with the bonfire. Or the rain.”

My mother gives me a withering stare.
 

I shrug in response. “If Madison is fated to be mine, I don’t see what the issue is.”

With a sigh, Mom closes her book. “Fates can be changed. You know how magic is limited by belief. In the wrong hands at the wrong time with the wrong intentions, dark magic can form.”

Madison gives us a weak smile. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about me. I definitely have zero magical ability. No special skills or talents. Except for never getting lost.”

“Ever?” Mom asks.

“Sometimes I get turned around when it’s raining or snowing, but otherwise I always seem to know which way is north.”

Mom writes something on Madison’s chart. “Interesting.”

“You keep saying that.” My crankiness returns.

“Have you heard of magnetoreception?” Mom asks Madison.

“Like Magneto in X-Men?” I love that her mind goes to comic books and superheroes.
 

“Sadly, no.” I shake my head. “It’s a sensory ability to perceive direction. Like a homing pigeon.”

“Are you calling me a bird brain?” Madison squeaks.

“No, of course not. But perhaps your ancestor’s ability to shape shift has left a mark on you.”

Madison pales. “I thought that was all lies and rumors. Mass hysteria started by the original group of mean girls.”

“Within every legend is a seed of truth.”

Madison rests her face in her hands. “At some point I’m going to turn into a bird or cat or armadillo? With a full moon or something?”

“Oh my dear, I’m not saying you can change your form, but perhaps you have some latent animal instincts that could be beneficial.” Mom pats Madison’s forearm. “Don’t look so petrified. These are good abilities to have.”

I’m not sure Madison would agree.
 

“I’d like for you to come by the shop a couple of times without Andrew. We can work on discovering what abilities you’re hiding.” Mom adds her herbal concoction to tea strainers resting atop two mugs. She pours the boiling water from the kettle over the top and the scent of dill fills the space.

“I’m not drinking tea that smells of pickles.” I stick out my tongue and gag. I can’t stand when a pickle is anywhere near my food. Pickle essence contaminates everything.

“You will. In fact, I’m not sure one cup will have any effect on you at all. You should probably drink this daily until we get you sorted out.”

“Dill?” Madison sniffs her mug.
 

“It can break a witch’s spell. I’m testing a theory.” Mom shoves the other mug into my hands. “Drink.”

“This tastes like pickle juice. Watery, bland, leftover pickle water.” I scowl before taking a sip.

“Besides the dill, there is thyme for courage, marjoram and rosemary for love, and a pinch of cumin, to keep either of you from wandering.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I want to spit out the tea, but know better than to do it in front of my mother. Dutifully, I sip from my cup.

Mom gives me a sympathetic smile. “It’s not you I’m worried about. Poor Madison is the one who has to deal with your charming personality change. Could you blame her for wanting a little distance?”

“I don’t. I won’t,” Madison protests, giving me a sad, reassuring look.

I jump off the counter to stand, wrapping my arms around her from behind.

Resting my chin on her shoulder, I glare at my mother. I know our situation isn’t her doing and she’s trying to figure out a solution, but my bad mood returns.
 

“We should go. I’ve had enough tea for one day.”

“Let me know if anything changes.” Mom scribbles some more notes in her book. “You should add dill to all of your water. I’m not sure what we’re dealing with. Or who. I’ll bring it to the coven. You might want to slow things down between the two of you. Try some time apart. See if that lessens your bad mood and the other effects of the curse.”

The curse part is obvious, but I struggle to admit she might be right about spending less time with Madison. As much as I don’t want to be apart from her, I don’t want to drive her away by being an out of control asshole.
 

Is this a love spell gone awry or is there something else at work?

Seven

A week later, Sam, Madison’s best friend, is standing in my doorway.
 

Neither my mood nor my relationship with Madison have improved since meeting with my mother. After shouldering a guy because he asked Madison if she was in line for coffee, intentionally causing him to spill the hot liquid all over his torso, I finally admitted defeat. I’ve always lived by the coven’s motto of “do no harm” and now I’m burning an innocent man with scalding liquid. I’ve gone medieval.
 

I’m a menace. Unless I want to lose Madison, I need to get my shit together. No matter how much I focus on controlling my feelings, I end up creating a scene. At first, I believed she liked my passion and inability to be close without pawing her. But being a spectacle and the subject of campus gossip isn’t what either of us wants. We’re both miserable and end up bickering or feeling awkward around each other. Not exactly the beginning I’d been waiting all these years to have with her.

“Can I talk to you about Madison’s birthday party?” Sam asks over the angry death metal blasting through my Bluetooth speaker.

Resisting a snarky
can you
, I close my laptop, turn down the music, and gesture for her to enter. Apparently my jealousy over anyone close to Madison now extends to her friends. “Sure.”

She enters the room and perches on the edge of my bed. I should offer her my desk chair, but I’m currently sitting in it and don’t feel like getting up.

“I’m know things haven’t been exactly smooth between the two of you lately.”

I nod. “Understatement.”

“I’m sure it’ll all get sorted out soon enough. I mean, I have faith in your mother and Madison.”

“But not me?”

“You’re the cursed one.”

“Did Madison tell you that?” What I’m thinking is a lot more rude and sounds a lot like fuck you. My anger begins to simmer.

“She hasn’t said those words, but something’s up with you. Given your mother owns the magic shop, I came to my own conclusion.” Her eyes dart nervously in my direction.

“This is temporary.”

“How can you be sure?”
 

She’s right. I can’t. I never assumed whatever personality switch has taken over would ever be permanent. Without waiting for my response, she continues.

“If it helps, I’m really sorry. I know how much Madison likes you and it’s clear that you like her. Maybe someone wants to keep you apart.”

“I see you believe the same theory as my mother.”

“I’ve used that same love spell on Tate. They clearly don’t work.”

I resist spilling that the crush is mutual. I’m the last person who should meddle with the hearts of others. “Some people think we’ve switched personalities. Or our personalities have switched bodies. Something like that.”

“Like
17 Again
?”

“Something like that.” I rub my hand over my jaw. I haven’t bothered to shave all week. What’s the point if all I do is run, go to class, and lock myself away in my dorm room like it’s a tower? “What can I do for you?”

“I’m planning a surprise party for Madison for Saturday and I think you should be there.”

“Does she want me there?” Dread gathers in the middle of my chest.
 

“Of course she does.” She gives me the ‘don’t be crazy’ look.

“Did she tell you specifically?” I inhale a deep breath and slowly exhale.

A small gap of silence grows between us and she won’t make eye contact.

“She hasn’t mentioned you to me all week. I’m sure she would be sad if you aren’t there.”

Something in her statement piques my curiosity. “Do you normally talk about me?”

Sam studies her nails. “Look, I don’t want to gossip about my best friend.”

“Understandable.” I’m not going to force her to break Madison’s trust.

“But I will say that up until you started acting like a weirdo, she talked about you all the time. Honestly, it was pretty sickening in a super sweet doughnut kind of way.”

I nod along although I have no idea what she means. I’m happy enough to hear Madison talks about me constantly to not bother figuring out the doughnut analogy. Sometimes I worry my feelings aren’t reciprocated.
 

“A happy occasion could be a good thing for the two of you. Everyone loves a birthday party. It’s probably the cake. Does Tate like cake?”

“As far as I know he’s not anti-cake. I’ll invite him.” I save her the embarrassment of having to ask.

“I’ll need you to ask Madison out on a date to get her to the party. Do you think you can handle that?” The worry in her eyes dampens my confidence.

“I’ll be so charming she won’t be able to resist.”

“Are you going to use magic?” Sam’s face reveals her excitement. Her eyes practically pop out of her head and she’s grinning.
 

I’m not sure how much she knows about the old witches of Salem and our magic. I lighten my tone and smile at her to let her know I might be joking. “No magic necessary. I can be charming and nice without invoking ancient spells.”

“Is there a spell you can use as back up?”

Remaining silent, I stare at her in response.
 

“Right. Sure. I’m sure everything will be fine.” She beams confidently at me. I can see why Tate likes her. Even when faced with negativity and impossibility, she somehow manages to create her own sunshine. “I’ll see you and Tate on Saturday.”

With a chipper wave, she leaves.

I scowl at the Doctor Who Tardis poster on the back of the door.
What would the Doctor do?