She plucked the spell from Tobias’s hands, tracing the tips of her fingers over the fragile, yellowed page, entranced by the looping Angelic letters. After taking a deep breath, she carefully sounded out the words. The aura rippled over her skin, raising the hair on her arms. At the spell’s end, the Fury’s agonized howl rose in the distance, and the clearing began to change.
The fallen trunk began to tremble, and Fiona jumped up, gasping as the tree transformed into a long banquet table. Moss and lichens transformed into a gold and green embroidered tablecloth. From the fabric, wooden bowls and plates bloomed with food: a spread of cheese, fruit, and marigold tarts, chicken and goose roasted in butter and spices, boiled eggs, and rows of succulent pies.
Fiona inhaled above a dish of stewed trout. “I smell a butter and white wine sauce.”
Alan’s hand was already reaching for one of the meat plates.
“It’s an actual feast.” Fiona stepped closer, her mouth watering. Dishes continued to appear, covering every surface of the large banquet table.
“Apparently they didn’t have this spell in Jamestown. Or they wouldn’t have eaten each other.” Alan bit into a spiced sausage. “Damn. This is a million times better than the cucumber soup.”
Fiona stared as blossoms sprung up in the copse around them—curling ivy with vibrant pink flowers. And as she watched them grow, her soggy teabag dress began to transform into satin—a burnt amber color that extended down to her feet. Her neckline plunged, and she could feel the air on her shoulders as the back plummeted to just above her tailbone. The dress cinched in at the waist, fitting her figure perfectly.
“Fiona, your dress!” Alan grinned.
A long necklace snaked over her shoulders, joining in front of her bellybutton and sprouting a teardrop-shaped pendant inset with diamonds. Her sneakers transformed into delicate gold heels. She pulled off her mask, staring as it shimmered into a pale gold tulle with ribbons, and vibrant wildflowers blossomed from its sides. In a final scintillating flash, rings shaped like curling plants flourished on her fingers. She smiled. Munroe would be furious.
Tobias stepped toward her, his eyes wide. Both of the boys had stopped eating to gape at her.
She twirled, intentionally giving them a view of her exposed back. “It’s not the most useful spell, but at least I have a proper dress.” Her only complaint was that the outfit came with narrow high heels that pinched her ankles and toes. She yanked them off. “I love whoever wrote this spell. But these shoes are for chumps.”
A ghost of a smile crossed Tobias’s lips. “You look extraordinary.”
Before she could reply, a clanging noise from the table caught her attention. The crust on one of the pies was quivering—bulging.
Alan started toward it. “The pie. It’s alive.”
“What is that?” Fiona stared, edging closer.
A tiny bird’s beak stabbed through the crust, trying to hatch itself from the pie. They stared as a small, furious blackbird burst through in a spray of flaky crust, taking flight. Four more followed, and Fiona stepped back, watching them squawk and flap out of the pastry.
Fiona arched an eyebrow at Alan. “Still hungry?”
“Kind of, yeah.” He picked up a chicken wing, biting into it. “Oh God. It’s really good. Dead, too.”
Fiona picked up a cranberry tart, her stomach rumbling. “I’m going to eat this while we do the other spell. I can multitask.”
She took a bite, watching Tobias tear into a thick slice of ham on fresh bread. She still had an odd feeling about him—it was almost as though half his mind had been left in Maremount. He didn’t seem to be fully present most of the time. Maybe a truth-telling spell would come in useful for him, too.
She finished the tart in a few bites and grabbed an unpeeled egg as Tobias handed her the second spell.
She looked it over. “Something to do with a spirit, you said. What’s our plan if it calls up a demon of some kind?"
Tobias took another bite of his sandwich. “You two run. I’ll take care of it.”
Alan wrinkled his forehead. “Getting a bit cocky these days, aren’t we?”
Tobias gave him an irritated look. “I’m a trained demon-fighter.”
Alan was unable to suppress an eye-roll.
Fiona ignored them, focusing on the Angelic. Once again, she pieced together the sounds until the aura tingled over her skin. She tensed, momentarily anticipating a demon bursting forth from the ground.
But it wasn’t the ground that started shifting. It was the egg clutched in her left hand.
Grimacing, she lifted it closer to her face. “Guys. Something is happening to the egg.” Thin white arms sprouted from its side, and humanoid features formed on its surface—two large, blinking eyes. She felt queasy as a mouth formed on the shell, and she shoved the creature into Alan’s hand. “This is disturbing.”
Alan held it up, and the egg coughed, rubbing its eyes with its tiny white fists. “Hark! What now, sir?” He had a surprisingly gravelly voice for an egg.
Alan stared at the creature in his hand. “Um, hello.” He looked up at Fiona and Tobias. “I don’t think this is going to help us.”