Chapter Thirteen

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Hazel replayed the image of Nick walking away from her over and over. She couldn't stop kicking herself for the whole thing. She was the one who'd broken it off. She was the one who turned him down.

And then she'd let her hand linger on his forearm like that—a voluntary act of intimacy that she shouldn't have instigated, sending all sorts of confusing signals in Nick's direction.

The change that had come over Nick had been painful to witness. How stiff and rigid he was. How distant and cold his voice had been when he'd spoken.

Hazel sighed as she climbed the steps of her house, opened the door and stepped in. She had stayed at the Mabon celebration until well after midnight, if only to serve as a distraction.

But now she was home, alone in the dark, and she couldn't escape the memory of that moment she dreaded.

Hazel tucked her broom in the stand by the door, shrugged out of her coat and hung it up. Her large black cat, Belladonna, came stalking out of the shadowy hallway to twine around Hazel's ankles.

Hazel scooped her up, carrying her to the bedroom. She buried her fingers in Belladonna's fur and golden sparks of magic like static electricity glowed in the night.

"Did you enjoy your Mabon nap?" Hazel said, depositing Belladonna on the bed.

Hazel changed out of her clothes and into her nightgown, sinking into her pillow. Belladonna curled up behind the crook of her knees and began to purr.

Hazel closed her eyes, hoping sleep would come quickly so she didn't have to replay the evenings events. But she lay in bed wide awake, staring at the ceiling as one hour slipped into another and another, haunted by the image of Nick leaving her in that orchard.

***

The start of a new week was a relief when it finally came around. Hazel was eager to set her mind to thinking of something besides Nick. And her students would no doubt keep her busy.

But on Sunday night, as Hazel struggled to fall asleep once again, the phone rang.

The sound was jarringly loud in the dark. Most witches and warlocks communicated through a crystal ball or with a note sent by bird. But Hazel had a few students with human parents that required regular methods of communication to get in contact with her when needed.

Why one of those parents would be contacting her at two o'clock in the morning on the eve before a school day had warning bells of impending trouble going off in Hazel's thoughts.

She scrambled for the phone on her nightstand and answered it.

"Hazel Aven speaking," she said.

"Miss Aven, it's Nick."

Nick's voice sounded strained and somewhat muffled, as if he was whispering. A crash echoed in the background followed by a scream.

Hazel sat up, shoved the blankets aside.

"Nick, what's going on?" she said.

"Phoebe had a nightmare. I can't calm her down. I can't find Luna either. She bolted as soon as Phoebe started screaming..."

Another scream, this time riddled with terror, pain, fear.

Hazel was on her feet in a heartbeat. She grabbed her black silk robe and cast a spell to tie it around her waist. A witch in emotional distress was not a good combination. All sorts of things could go haywire, especially with how strong Phoebe was with her magic.

"Tell me what's happening right now," Hazel said, grabbing her wand from the nightstand and stowing it in her pocket. "Is Phoebe using magic?"

"Yes, she's..."

He swore follow by a rattling clank.

"Nick?" Hazel said. "Are you there?"

No answer. Faint voices could be heard in the background but Hazel couldn't make them out. More crashes and more screaming.

Hazel marched into the hallway, snatched up her broom, and stepped out of her house. She hadn't bothered to grab her boots or a coat and the cold air made her shrink back. But Hazel tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder, gripped her broom in both hands and she rocketed into the air.

It took only minutes to reach Nick's house but it felt like hours as Hazel continually tried to contact him only to receive no response. She could hear Phoebe's voice, high-pitched and scared, but she couldn't understand what was being said. It was too indistinct.

When Nick's house came into view, the windows were pulsing with purple and orange light. And the entire building was hovering, lifted off of its foundations to float in the air.

Hazel skidded to a stop on the porch, the floor bucking underneath her. She released her broom and it clattered to the ground as she yanked the door opened.

"Nick? Phoebe?" she called.

"We're in Phoebe's room!" Nick called from upstairs.

The house pitched and a fresh wail came from Phoebe. Hazel took the stairs two at a time.

She found Nick on the floor, cradling a sobbing Phoebe in his arms, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head as he attempted to whisper soothingly to her.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he said. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Clutched tightly in Phoebe's fist was her wand. She held it like a weapon, like a sword. Magic poured from it in a stream of green sparks, turning the entire room upside down.

A mattress floated on the ceiling. Spellbooks and toys hovered in mid-air.

Tears coursed down Phoebe's face. With each hiccup, a floating object—books, toys, clothes, pillows—slammed into the walls.

Nick raised his gaze to meet Hazel's, imploring her for help.

Hazel knelt on the floor across from him and pressed her hand to Phoebe's forehead. Phoebe's skin was blistering with magical heat and not from a spelled fever this time. She had so much magic coursing through her that the power of it was burning her up.

Hazel pressed a kiss to Phoebe's forehead and touched her hand that still gripped her wand like a weapon.

"Phoebe," she said as gently as she could. "You have to give me your wand for safe keeping, all right?"

Phoebe shook her head and sniffed. "Mama gave it to me. It's just like hers."

Nick closed his eyes and bowed his head, resting his cheek on top of Phoebe's head.

"It's all right, sweetie," he said. "Miss Aven just wants to keep you safe. She'll give the wand back when you're feeling better."

Slowly, Phoebe uncurled her fingers one by one. Then she passed the wand into Hazel's hand. She turned and burrowed deeper into Nick's arms.

Hazel stowed Phoebe's wand in her pocket and withdrew her own wand. She cast a spell to counter-act the levitating objects and sent everything upright, tucked neatly back in their proper places. Then she returned her attention to Phoebe and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Would you like to talk about what's bothering you?" Hazel said.

Phoebe didn't respond at first. She wrapped her arms a little tighter around Nick's neck. Then she raised her head and peeked at Hazel with one eye, her cheek wet with tears.

"I miss Mama," she whispered. "I wanted to show her Luna. She'd like Luna. But she's not here. Daddy never says so but I know she's not coming back. Ever."

Phoebe's voice cracked on the last word.

To Hazel's surprise, Phoebe broke away from Nick and crawled into Hazel's arms. She curled up on Hazel's lap and slipped her hand into Hazel's palm, small fingers holding on tight.

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