And Ben just looks . . . furious. Defeated, but furious. As if he wants to wring Abernathy’s neck but he can’t, because we need him.
I’m so frustrated that I’m tempted to rip the next book out of Abernathy’s hands when he hesitates, then turns his back again. “We know you’re stealing those books,” I snap. “How would it look if I went and found the host and told him all about how you’re here at this party just to steal from him?”
That gets a response. Abernathy stiffens, then straightens to his full height. “Or how would you like it if I cast a spell that put your fingerprints all over these books instead?”
“Or,” I retort, trying a different tactic, “how would you like it if I smuggled those books out for you in exchange for our help?”
That makes him pause. “You . . . what?”
Ben looks at me, a hint of a smile playing at his hard mouth. He’s been so frustrated that I love the look of approval he gives me. It makes me feel good, like we really are a team.
“Yup.” I gesture at Abernathy’s jacket. “It’s obvious that you’re stuffing the books inside your coat. The outlines press through the material, and it makes your clothing hang funny. The moment you leave this room, it’s going to be incredibly obvious what you’re doing. You’re going to piss off your host.”
Abernathy adjusts his glasses, peering at me. The stubbornness is gone from his face, replaced by mild interest. “What do you suggest, then?”
I hold up my purse.
“You suggest I carry a purse?”
No, you idiot, I want to say, but I bite it back and keep my voice sweet. “No, I’m saying girls carry purses so we can smuggle tampons and other things with us. I could slide a book or two into my purse and carry them out for you. No one would be the wiser. We could meet up, you could cast the spell for us, and I’d give you the books.”
Abernathy considers. He looks at Ben, then at me. He clutches a book to his chest and sighs. “I truly would like to help you both, but . . . I shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” Ben’s frustration is evident in his tone, in the tightness of his shoulders. “We’re running out of options. You’re our best hope for figuring this out.”
Abernathy shakes his head. “No one likes the answers. Every time I dissect a spell, someone gets mad, so I’ve stopped doing it.” He shrugs, running a hand over a leather-bound book. “It’s just easier.”
“Please,” I whisper. “Please help us. We won’t get mad. We just want answers so we can save Drusilla.”
He stares down at the book in his hands, and Ben reaches for mine. I clutch him tight, feeling as if I’m going to shatter if Abernathy says no again. Shatter . . . or fling myself at him in a rage.
The elderly warlock sighs. Fingers the book in his hands some more. Then he looks over at me. “How many books will your purse hold?”
34
REGGIE
It turns out my purse holds only two slim volumes, and Abernathy wants six books smuggled out. We figure out a compromise, and I put two books in my purse at a time, then find a bathroom with a window. We mingle for a bit, pretending to enjoy the party. Ben talks to Willem for a while, or another warlock, and then I make excuses and head to the restroom. I drop the books out the window, and when all six are deposited in the yard, it’s near the end of the night, and my shoulders are screaming with tension and my head is throbbing.
We leave the party, circle around to the back of the house, and, thanks to the already-existing obfuscate spell, don’t set off any alarms or trip any magical traps. We collect the books and then head to the hotel that Abernathy said to meet him at.
It’s three in the morning before we get to his hotel room, but when he sees us, his eyes light up with greed. He clutches the books to his chest and sighs with bliss. “Perfection. I shall have to get a handbag of my own for the future.”
“Or just bring a familiar that has one,” I point out.
He wags a finger at me. “Genius. Now, come on. If you really want this spell cast, follow me.”
Ben escorts me inside, his hand on my shoulder. I can feel the tension brimming through him, and I feel the same. We so desperately need answers for poor Dru, and Abernathy is our best hope. If he can’t help us, we have to start over again.
The hotel room is an utter mess, so much so that it makes me twitch. There are books of every kind stacked all over the generic hotel dresser and tables, and dirty clothes strewn on the floor that Abernathy kicks aside. I see a blanket and pillow are on the sofa, as if he’s been sleeping there instead of in the bed. As we get farther into the room, though, I catch sight of the bed, and I’m right—he’s not sleeping on it. Instead, it’s been set up as a table of some kind, I think. A sheet covers the bed itself, and underneath the sheet, I can make out a variety of shapes that look like bowls and unlit candles and a few other things. He’s set this up as his spellcasting station.
I move to the bed and touch one corner of the sheet, curious to see what’s underneath. Immediately, Abernathy rushes to my side and slaps my hand. “It’s covered for a reason, little girl!”
I scowl at him, rubbing my fingers. Ben moves to my side, his hand rubbing my shoulder. “If the components are secret, we won’t look,” Ben promises.
“Very secret,” Abernathy says, shooting me another displeased look. “You’re going to have to turn your backs as I cast. I won’t do it otherwise.”
I don’t care if I see him casting or not. “That’s fine. Whatever you want to do. Let’s just get it done.”
We stand aside, watching as Abernathy rolls the two chairs in the room to the far side of the bed, making them face the wall instead of the spread he has atop the mattress. He indicates that we should sit, and so Ben and I do, and I stare at the ugly, generic pink-and-brown abstract on the hotel room’s wall as Abernathy makes noise behind us, the clinking of glass and the rustle of dried leaves making my ears prick. I rest one hand on the arm of my chair, a foot away from Ben’s chair, and when Ben touches my hand with his pinky, I link mine with his.
It’s a small touch, but we’re in this together and it’s comforting. Linking pinkies with him gets rid of some of my anxiety. Just knowing that Ben’s right there with me as we try to fix this . . . It’s everything. With him at my side, I feel like it’s all going to be okay. We’ll save Dru, figure out who’s behind this, and get them before they can curse me, too. Once all that’s been handled, we’ll figure out the two of us.
“I’m going to need a few components from the two of you,” Abernathy says. “Are you averse to kissing?”
“Not at all,” Ben murmurs, and his pinky strokes mine, ever so lightly.
“Excellent,” Abernathy says, and then he pushes a bowl between us. “Both of you chew these leaves and then kiss. Make it good and wet, or the spell won’t be as potent.”
I give Ben an odd look, but he only shrugs and tugs my chair closer to his. I pop a leaf into my mouth, crunch down, and wrinkle my nose at the acrid taste. Horrid.
Ben leans toward me, cupping my cheek, and I can’t help but ask a question. “Is this sex magic?” I whisper, curious. “Or do a lot of spells require kissing?”
“Does it matter?” Ben smiles, then leans in and brushes his lips against mine. He tastes like peppermint. No fair. I clearly got the short end of the leaf stick, and as we kiss, I’m torn between wanting to lose myself in his soft mouth and wanting to pull the leaves out of mine. But then Ben does this thing with his tongue, and I forget all about the spell. I wrap my arms around his neck, hungrily kissing him back—
“That’s plenty,” Abernathy snaps. “I just need a kiss for this to work, not coitus.”
Ben smirks at me and pulls a leaf out of his mouth. My leaf. I can’t decide if that’s sexy or gross. Probably a little of both. I brush my lips with my fingers, flustered.