I suddenly felt deeply ashamed of myself that I hadn’t even spared a thought for how Wanda was dealing with being ousted from the coven during holiday time. Those feelings only hardened my resolve to get this spell right. Wanda had spent numerous evenings trying to educate me in the art of witchcraft when she could have been producing more product to sell. I wanted to show her that all those hours hadn’t been wasted.

  I tapped my phone screen to life, checking and double checking the time. Three minutes to midnight.

  “This giggle water’s damn good… and strong!” Darla said. “Astrid’s gonna put me out on the roof!” That meant drunk, at least, that’s what I thought it meant.

  The slight surprise in Darla’s voice was a bit insulting. I wasn’t good at a lot of things, true, but creating cultured alcoholic drinks was something I’d practiced: Tabitha and Celestine were fond of a nightcap now and then.

  “What’s this called?” Darla continued.

  “A Liquid Ghost,” Wanda answered as she glanced down at the tent card. “Mine is called a Witch’s Brew, Poppy has something called Gypsy Eyes, Libby has a Zombie…”

  “And mine is virgin, correct?” Libby interrupted, still sounding miffed.

  “Correct,” Wanda affirmed as she then continued, lifting up her own drink. “Fifi’s drink is called a She-Devil and I believe… it’s spiked with a luck potion.” Wanda waved her hand over the glass as she studied it and then nodded. “Yep, Astrid added a lucky-in-love potion to the rim.”

  “Well, that was very sweet of her,” Fifi started, worrying her lower lip. “But, I wish mine weren’t called a She-Devil.”

  “Ain’t that what you are?” Darla asked.

  Fifi nodded, but her lips were tight. “Even though we might be born a certain way, that doesn’t mean we have to choose to live that way.” Then she took a deep breath and faced Wanda again. “I have to admit I’m curious about the lucky-in-love potion?”

  “It’s supposed to help encourage the right man to seek you out,” Wanda went on with an understanding smile. It was strange that she and Fifi were friends, I thought. Fifi was just so… different. But, then Poppy was pretty much night and day to Wanda also. “Astrid left the recipes on the counter if we want refills.”

  “What a sweet kitten,” Darla cooed.

  But, I couldn’t really say my thoughts were focused on the conversation. Instead, I couldn’t get past the fact that Wanda had recognized the luck potion I’d added to Fifi’s drink. Not that I should have been surprised, really, given that Wanda was a learned witch. And, I guess I wasn’t surprised, but it did make me wonder if she’d be able to sense the Regression Oil in her own glass before I’d be able to perform the spell that would activate it? I wanted Wanda’s past life re-enactment to be a big surprise—proof to her that I was advancing in my witchcraft. I wanted to make her proud.

  I checked my phone again. It was a minute until midnight. Hmm, so far it didn’t seem Wanda had noticed the potion because she hadn’t said anything about it. If she did notice it, I wondered if she’d even drink it. Instead, if she suspected I was casting something this ambitious, she might get angry with me.

  Well, it was too late to turn back now. Instead, I grabbed the Bic lighter I’d taken from one of the kitchen drawers and faced the circle of graveyard dirt (it could be handy living next to Hollow Cemetery) I’d already drawn on the floor. My fingers shook as I first anointed the candle with Ancient Shrines Oil, which would help promote my telepathic abilities and add extra juju to the spell, and then the remainder of the Regression Oil so the spell would know what I wanted to activate.

  Then I lit the candle.

  Opening my window, I drew in the power from the evening air outside, wiggled my nose, and whispered, “Through the planes we sail, allow my words to part the veil. A new perspective shall I see, this is my desire, so mote it be.”

  I waited for the flame of the candle to leap to attention, and the familiar tingle to seize my nose. Instead, a shudder ran from the crown of my head down to my toes, goosebumps popping up along my arms in spite of the heavy sweatshirt I was wearing. My stomach did a flip, and I thought I might be suddenly sick all over the hardwood floors. Then the flame grew as if powered from within, the yellow turning to blue which turned to black and then the flame simply… went out.

  It was as if some invisible person had simply blown the flame out. And that was bad. Very bad.

  “Oh, no,” I whispered. I felt like saying more, but wasn’t sure whether I was going to scream or sob. Every witch worth her pointy hat knew her superstitions and what had just happened—the candle going from roaring flame to smoking wick… it didn’t bode well.

  At all.

  When a candle extinguished itself during a ritual, it was a bad omen and then some—a sign evil was afoot. And added to the fact that it was now All Hallow’s Eve, Samhain, the night when the veil between the dead and the living was lifted, this was… very very bad.

  A successful spell should have left me tingling with satisfaction, but all I felt now was a cold, sinking feeling in my gut. And that could only mean one thing.

  I’d thrown a hex at Wanda without meaning to.

  I was on my feet, before I could consciously think about it, lunging for the light switch, desperately holding the remainder of the Regression Oil up to the light. Maybe Maverick had swapped the vial out at the last second before handing it to me? Maybe he’d somehow gotten it confused with something else? I just didn’t want to face the fact that maybe I’d done something wrong. Had I drawn the circle incorrectly? When I glanced down at it, I found the lines still bold and strong—there was no way anything unwanted would have been able to breach the sacred space. Had I used the wrong potions to anoint the candle? But, no, the Regression Oil was the same one Maverick had handed to me and the Ancient Shrines Oil was in the same purple fluted bottle it always was. Had I repeated the spell wrong? I was sure I hadn’t.

  Then… it had to be the potion. Yet…

  A sob won out over a scream as I realized the vial in my hand was exactly the same as the one Maverick and I had brewed, down to the tell-tale lavender shimmer. Whatever this hex was, it was something I’d brewed.

  Goddess, what had I done?

  I threw open my door as panicked voices chorused Wanda’s name, overlapping into a terrified swell of sound. I sprinted for the living room, arriving breathless only moments later. I couldn’t see much of Wanda at first. Poppy, Darla, and Libby were clustered around Wanda’s prone form. Only the pair of Jimmy Choos poking out from behind the couch convinced me it was Wanda on the ground. Fifi hovered nearby, holding a phone halfway to her ear, seeming confused in her fear. I could follow her thoughts—this was a Hollow and that meant she was asking herself: was this a medical emergency or was it magic?

  I wished I could tell her what to do or who to call. I wished I could tell her why the spell had gone awry. But, there was no telling what I’d done or... Goddess I hated thinking it, let alone admitting it, what Maverick had tricked me into doing.

  “Wanda?” I called out and when it seemed Poppy and Fifi were going to try to keep me from her, I pushed past them. “I need to see her!”

  I had to know if Wanda was hurt or... or... Would Maverick have tricked me into killing her? He wouldn’t have gone that far, right? He wanted Wanda too much to kill her, right? Besides, I didn’t have the strength to carry out that kind of black magic... right?

  Goddess, I could only hope I hadn’t… killed her.

  Chapter Seven

  Poppy moved out of my way, more from shock than anything else, I thought.

  As I approached Wanda’s still form, I noticed Libby’s hands were curled around Wanda’s head. Darla stood behind Libby, looking down at Wanda with wide eyes that were quickly filling with tears.

  But, it wasn’t so much Libby or Darla’s actions that struck me, it was the fact that they were still animate. That was a very good sign because I was fairly sure it meant Wanda wasn’t dead. Because Wanda’s life force powered Libby (and Darla), if something were to happen to Wanda—something that took her life, it would also end their lives. So, yes, Wanda had to still be alive. But alive and well weren’t the same thing.

  Libby was pale, eyes wide, and she kept slapping Wanda’s cheek gently, trying to wake her up. Wanda’s face was paler, if possible. If not for the subtle rise and fall of her chest, she could have looked like a beautiful corpse, but not something you’d ever mistake for human.

  Scalding tears ran down my cheeks as I took Wanda’s hand. She was cold to the touch, strengthening the impression that she was more vampire than witch.

  “Astrid, what was in Wanda’s drink?” Poppy demanded as she clutched my shoulder and I looked up at her. “As soon as she sipped it, she dropped like a bag of potatoes.”

  “It was only Libby who kept her from crashing through the coffee table,” Fifi added.

  “Astrid?” Poppy repeated my name when I didn’t respond.

  “I… it was a potion, meant to be her Samhain gift,” I said, my voice breaking.

  “Okay, what was in the potion?”

  “It was Past Lives Oil,” I started as Poppy frowned, no doubt she knew Past Lives Oil wouldn’t have this effect.

  “And?”

  “And Double XX Oil,” I answered on a breath.

  Poppy instantly froze and her eyes widened even more than they already had been. “That’s a… a hexing potion,” she said, shock in her tone.

  “Maverick swore it was safe!” I said, my voice quaking as the tears came. “He said if we mixed it with the Past Lives Oil, it would create something called Regression Oil, which would allow Wanda to witness her past lives like a movie!”

  “Maverick?” Poppy questioned as I realized I’d have to explain everything leading up to this moment. So that was exactly what I did. After telling the story, something else occurred to me and I looked up at Poppy, completely confused. “But… but I made Maverick drink it himself, to prove it was safe and that it wouldn’t hurt Wanda. And he did drink it! I saw his past lives emerge—I witnessed it for myself and, afterwards, Maverick was fine.”

  “Maybe because his make-up was different to Wanda’s or maybe he somehow slipped something into the vial for Wanda when you weren’t looking,” Poppy said, drumming her fingertips against her mouth.

  “Yes, he could have done that,” I answered, nodding.

  “I wonder if Wanda’s being a Blood Witch has anything to do with… this reaction she’s having?”

  I glanced down at Wanda again and noticed her pallor was deathly white. She looked like a corpse. But, what reason would Maverick have had to…

  And then it suddenly started to make sense—an ugly, horrible sense.

  If Wanda was no longer a witch, Maverick would be able to challenge her claim to Haven Hollow. If she was forced into becoming a vampire fully, that meant Maverick would be able to claim sanctum for himself in Haven Hollow and open his own coven, something that had been his goal for a long time. A feeling of sick realization claimed me the more I thought about it.

  Had the potion somehow forced the vampiric change on Wanda? Was it sapping the life and magic from her, leaving only the vampire half?

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered through the stream of tears that poured from my eyes. “Goddess, I’m so, so sorry, Wanda. I... I’m going to fix this.”

  I had to fix it, but how? I was just a baby witch, compared to Wanda, and the only person in the room who might have the first clue about how to undo this damage was lying, unmoving on the floor. Poppy knew about potions, sure, but she didn’t know about witchcraft.

  “Astrid,” Poppy began in a tone I’d heard her use with Finn. It made me cringe, and the tears rolled down my cheeks even faster. “Was it just the potions you used?”

  I shook my head. “I repeated an incantation, a spell.”

  “A hex,” Poppy finished, nodding.

  I looked up at her and swallowed hard. “A hex.”

  And that was the horrible truth.

  My knees ached, but I couldn’t force myself to move from my crouched position on the floor by the couch. I just… I didn’t know what to do! I didn’t know who to call!

  And then it hit me. I did know who to call.

  “Olga!” I yelled, as everyone’s attention centered on me again. “We have to call Olga Fischer! She’ll know what to do!”

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, Olga Fischer, her familiar Franz the raccoon, and Lorcan all stood in the living room, listening to me explain, in precise detail, everything that had happened from the moment Maverick had met me in Riverport.

  During my explanation of events, Libby dumped everyone’s drinks down the drain, even after I told her only Wanda had been dosed with the potion. Of course, Libby had had several things to say about my behavior, none of them nice. If I’d been in a better mood, I might have pointed out that by her own reasoning, proper ladies didn’t use those kinds of words. I didn’t defend myself though, because I deserved every insult she flung at me.

  I’d been careless. I’d been stupid and way too gullible. I should never have trusted my brother. Yes, I’d been so incredibly stupid to trust Maverick. If I had the inborn skepticism most witches possessed, we wouldn’t be in this mess. I wouldn’t still be crouching near Wanda’s head, praying she’d open her eyes.

  After Olga and Lorcan arrived, we tried everything we could think of. First, we tried to deduce what other potions or additives with which Maverick could have contaminated the Regression Oil. As far as we could tell, the potion was pure—containing just the ingredients we’d brewed together.

  Then, using the remainder of the Regression Oil (which wasn’t much), Poppy and Olga attempted creating a few uncrossing potions and anointing Wanda with them, which did a whole lot of nothing. Then Olga attempted at least ten different purifying, cleansing and banishing spells, which had zero effect on the comatose Wanda. Libby tried jolting Wanda awake with ice water, which was useless. Then Fifi gave her a bolt of good old-fashioned lust (a bolt which hadn’t been very strong, considering it had been a while since Fifi last fed).

  But, nothing.

  If this potion was designed (by Maverick) to suck away Wanda’s life force and leave her a vampire, Lorcan was the only one who’d be able to help her. And now it was pretty much looking like that was exactly what we were facing. Somehow, the Double XX and the Past Lives Oil had affected Wanda in such a way, that we were all afraid her witch half was fading.

  “And it didn’t affect Maverick the same way because he doesn’t possess vampire blood,” I said as the awful truth dawned on me.

  “Right,” Poppy said with a firm nod.

  As I looked down at Wanda again, it hit me that the final change might have been inadvertently thrust on her. At least she had Lorcan here to guide her. He and Wanda were bound together, each able to sense the other on a level the rest of us couldn’t understand. Not only that, but Lorcan was madly in love with Wanda and if anyone would go to the ends of the earth for her, it was him.

  If nothing else, Lorcan could guide Wanda’s transformation into a fully-fledged vampire if it looked like she was headed for a one-way ticket to the great beyond. It seemed unfair for her to end up this way, after how much she’d fought the change. But, vampirism was better than the nothingness that awaited Wanda in death. Tainted by vampire blood, Wanda was no longer a true witch, which meant she couldn’t move onto her next life. This time, death really was the end of the line.

  “If zee doesn’t wake before zunrize, zee vill die,” Olga said in her German accent, facing each of us with a dour expression. “Vatever ist claimin’ her, it’s strong.”

  “And it’s your fault!” Libby yelled at me as I cried even harder into Poppy’s shoulder.

  Lorcan raised a fine golden brow at her. “Lay off the poor girl.”

  He was stupidly handsome, even when his face was pinched with worry. If he hadn’t been a vampire and Wanda’s quasi-boyfriend, I might have had a crush on him.

  “Yelling at Astrid isn’t going to fix this situation,” Poppy continued.

  “Elizabeth, find something useful to do,” Lorcan continued. “Such as tracking down the fecking warlock behind this.”

  “I will do exactly that,” Libby said as her mouth pressed into a tight line, and her pale eyes blazed with barely suppressed fury. “Where should I start?”

  “Maverick isn’t allowed in Haven Hollow,” Poppy said as she looked at me. I nodded.

  “We were in Riverport, but I have no idea if he’s still there.”

  “I want you to walk to the town limits and see if he’s skulking somewhere just outside Haven Hollow,” Lorcan said to Libby, before Darla nearly interrupted him.

  “Lorcan, if Wanda does turn fully into… a fangsy (that was her word for a vampire), what’s gonna happen to Libby and me?”

  Lorcan nodded, as if he understood her concern. “Wanda completing her evolution into a vampire is not the same as permanent death, but it will wipe out her magic… and I believe you both with it.”

  “Oh, no,” Darla said as Libby inhaled deeply.

  “I don’t want to go back into the ground and become food for worms again,” Libby said.

  “Don’t worry about that, Libby,” Poppy answered as she reached out and patted the zombie on the shoulder. “We will figure this out.”

  Lorcan faced Libby and frowned. “Now bugger off for a bit.” Then he looked at Darla. “Both of you.”

  Libby shifted her glare on me. It was only a half-second, but I felt her gaze on the side of my face like a hot brand. My fingers tightened around Wanda’s limp hand and a traitorous tear rolled down my cheek. My face was warm and swollen from all the crying I’d done, and that crying didn’t seem like it had an end in sight.