Fire Spell: Ivy Grace Spell Series 3 Read online

  Holly giggled. “How is Mr. Sexy Editor?”

  “Off limits.” I had gone back and forth a hundred times about how to navigate my relationship with him. My latest decision kept me from hoping or dreaming that things could ever change. Whenever I let my guard down, the nightmares returned. I would wake up in a cold sweat and the result was always the same—he was dead. It was dangerous for him and that was all I needed to know.

  Holly placed her empty glass on the table. “My love life is so boring. Mike talks about football and basketball.”

  “I will trade you. My love life is nonexistent. I can’t go near Jack or he might die, and I can’t find Finn because he’s on a life-altering quest. Why would you be jealous?” I started to laugh. This sounded ridiculous.

  The giggling fit hit both of us until tears welled in our eyes.

  Holly dabbed at her mascara with a cocktail napkin. “I think what you need is a vacation. Get away from all of this. How about one of those dude ranches?” Before I could respond, we both doubled over in laughter again.

  “Ok. Ok. We need to get home.” I held up my hand to make her stop. “I’ve got to find a story, a new house, and an excuse Jack will believe. We have drunk ourselves silly.” My head was spinning.

  “True. True.” Holly nodded. “Hey, I wanted to ask you before we leave. Have either of your parents said anything about spell trouble?”

  I tilted my head. “Spell trouble? What do you mean?”

  “I don’t really know. My mom mentioned something in passing, and wondered if I was having any problems with my spells. It was odd the way she said it. Thought I’d check with you.”

  “Nope. Not a word from Richard or Violet. They are as happy as ever at the restaurant. All my mother talks about is the wedding she has next month. Wedding, wedding, wedding.” I rolled my eyes.

  We scooped up our purses and slid out of the booth. I watched the couples dancing near the DJ and envied the girls who were going home with someone tonight. I missed it. I missed curling up in the morning under the covers. I missed the way it felt to hold a strong hand in my palm. I missed kissing; I really missed kissing. Finn left, and then I dated Evan for a short time, and then nothing. It was as if a draught had descended on my love life. I had started to wonder if someone had cast a love curse on me. I hadn’t gone this long without a date since I was in middle school.

  “Ivy? You coming?” Holly tugged on my elbow.

  “Yep.” I smiled at the dancers then turned for the exit. It would happen for me again. I had to hold on to that.

  I WAVED my hand over the last box. “Close.” A strip of tape appeared along the cardboard folds. I liked packing this way. It was quicker than doing it by hand. Might as well use my skills when I could. I smiled and patted Cooper on the head.

  “You’re going to like the new house, boy.” I had repeated that statement to myself twenty times, but it wasn’t helping. I didn’t want to leave Southern Avenue or the memories in these walls.

  Daddy had warned me there would be consequences to writing screenplays with my real name. I wasn’t about to admit he might have been right. Leaving my cottage was one of the sacrifices I had to make.

  “Knock, knock. You home, sis?” Ian poked his head in the front door.

  “Convenient timing. I just packed the last box.” I had forgotten my brother had mentioned he was going to stop by this afternoon.

  “Yep. Didn’t want to miss the heavy lifting, but looks like you are all set.” He walked around the piles of boxes.

  It was good to see him, even if he had shirked out of helping me.

  “That just means you can help me with all of the unpacking.” I poked him in the ribs.

  “That’s why you have magic. You don’t need me.” He sat on the edge of my couch.

  I surveyed the room. It really was ending. “Would you mind doing a sweep for me just in case I forgot anything? A second pair of eyes always helps.”

  Ian hopped off the armrest. “Sure. I can handle that.” He strolled down the hall and stopped under the attic pull down. “Did you get everything in the attic?”

  “I don’t keep anything up there, but would you mind checking?” I headed to the kitchen, and opened cabinets and drawers, looking for forgotten items.

  A few minutes later, Ian walked toward me with a box in his arms. “You missed one.” He placed it on the counter.

  I didn’t remember storing anything in the attic. I pulled the flap open. “Oh. I wondered what happened to this.”

  “What is it?” Ian asked over my shoulder.

  “Daddy gave it to me when Gigi died. It’s a bunch of her stuff. I guess I put it in the attic, thinking I’d look at it later. It made me too sad at the time.” I reached for a stack of pictures. They were mostly black and white. “I forgot I had it.” I felt guilty stashing my grandmother’s things where I had forgotten them. What if I had left them in the move? Gigi, or Grandma Grace as we more formally referred to her, had selected the items in the box just for me.

  “Is that Dad?” Ian held up a picture of a little boy, who was in full toddler mode, holding a beach bucket.

  I laughed. “I think so.” I shuffled through a few more photos and landed on one of my grandmother.

  Her hair was long and blond like mine. She was smiling at a man I didn’t recognize. I held the photo closer. On her right hand was her ring. My ring. That gift from her had changed my life forever. I flipped the picture over, looking for a date. In the corner, she had scrawled May 1949 Charleston with Leo.

  Ian raised his eyebrows. “Who’s Leo? That’s not Granddad.”

  “I don’t know. But I’m sure Gigi had a life before she was a wife and a mother.” I wished she were with us now to tell me the story. Leo was kind of hot. There were so many stories I wanted to hear, starting with the one about this guy.

  I twirled the ring on my finger. It was true I could Time Spell if I wanted to see her, but I had never traveled to see anyone in my family or myself. Something about it seemed incredibly creepy, and a part of me always thought it would throw the spell out of wack if there were two Ivys in the same place at the same time.

  Leo was handsome. He had long eyelashes and light hair. He was smiling at my grandmother with an I’m-totally-in-love-with-you look. I sighed, realizing it had been a long time since someone had looked at me that way. I wondered why she had never mentioned him. I placed the photo next to the box.

  “Hey, look at this.” Ian brushed off the top of a leather-bound book. It resembled a journal.

  I reached for it before he could open it. “That’s Gigi’s. I don’t think you should read it.” Suddenly, I felt protective of her things. Daddy had entrusted them to me. Besides, I couldn’t imagine she would want her grandson reading her journal. There are limits to family sharing.

  He raised his hands in defense. “Ok. Ok. You’re probably right. I don’t want to know any details about Leo.” He made a face. “I was hoping one of her spell books would be in here. I want to work on my Locality Spell. I was thinking of upping it a little.”

  “Really? I thought it worked great.” Ian had been doing that spell for years. It was his trademark in our family.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I think I can do it without a personal object. I’m not exactly there yet, but I want to be.”

  I was impressed. I didn’t know my brother was working on his practice. He seemed to take most things in life in stride and roll with it. Magic fit in that category.

  “Is there something I can help you with?” I couldn’t do a Locality Spell unless Ian and I were connected, but I might be able to assist. Two witches were better than one.

  “Yeah, tell me if Gigi mentions her spell book in those journals.” He pointed to the box. “I’ve asked Dad for them, but he doesn’t know where they are either.”

  I looked at the boxes and my packed house. It would be awhile before I would have time to sit and read. “Sure, I’ll let you know when I get to it.”

>   I slid the picture with Leo into the front of the top journal and shut the box. “Close.” I tapped the cardboard. Even though I had sealed the box, there was something nagging at me that I should open it again and dig through all of the mementos. I walked to the foyer with the box. Curiosity was going to have to wait.

  My new house was only a mile away from Southern Avenue. It wasn’t on a main street and it was inside a gated neighborhood. Those seemed to be the two most important elements. Martha called after our last appointment. A couple needed to sell quickly to take a position in England. I met her at the house, and an hour later, we signed the offer paperwork.

  All the houses in the neighborhood had been renovated, some even flipped. My new home was built in the sixties, and I liked the vibe. It had a sunken living room and a second story for an office. It was the perfect place to write.

  I stared out of my office window. I had been moved in for two weeks. Somehow, I had postponed the travel trip with Jack. I came up with multiple excuses; one included a fake stomach bug. I was getting desperate.

  I paused before sipping my coffee. I thought if I could find my own story and start writing, I could dissuade him. I still hadn’t warmed up to the western. After several hours searching online articles, I had come up empty again. I closed my laptop and sighed. The Nashville trip was scheduled three days from now, and I was running out of ideas.

  I watched Cooper chew on a tennis ball in the backyard. I did like that we had our own fence, and he had a place to run. The doggie door was awfully convenient. I stretched my legs. From the corner of my eye, I could see the last few boxes lined against the wall I hadn’t unpacked yet.

  I opened the top one: Masquerade manuscript pages. I pulled the lid on the second one: printer paper. Then I saw the one on the bottom: Gigi’s box. I pulled it away from the wall and sat next to it.

  I took a deep breath. It was one thing to be with Ian when I rummaged through her things the first time, but this felt different. There was no one else here. Just me. Just the box.

  I remember the day my father gave it to me. It was after the funeral, and we were the only ones left at my grandmother’s house. I had offered to stay behind and clean up the kitchen. Mama escorted other family members back to her house. Funerals were exhausting, and I was glad to be in the quiet house with Daddy. We both needed the silence.

  I opted out of using magic. There was something calming about letting the water run over the plates. I felt like I was doing something, accomplishing something small by cleaning cake frosting off china plates and rinsing wine glasses.

  My father cleared his throat. “Sweetheart, I know this might seem like a strange time to do this.”

  I pivoted on my high heels, placing a glass on the counter to dry. “What is it?”

  My father held a box in his arms. He offered it to me.

  “Before the rest of the family leaves town tomorrow, I know they are going to stop by and probably start going through Gigi’s things. But these…” He eyed the contents of the box. “Are for you. She wanted you to have them.”

  My hands were wet from the dishes, but I grabbed the sides of the box. “I-I don’t think I can look at it right now.” I choked back tears. I wasn’t used to the idea that she was gone.

  “You don’t have to right now.” He rested his hand on my shoulder. “But she asked that this box go to you.” His smile was warm.

  My grandmother had given me my ring when I turned sixteen. I couldn’t imagine her giving me anything more precious. “What’s in here?” I placed the box on the kitchen table. I didn’t think I could look inside.

  “She told me it was ‘girl stuff’.” He chuckled.

  It made me laugh too. That sounded like my grandmother. Even at eighty-four, she had been a spitfire. I returned to the sink and the pile of dishes, trying to steady the tears and sniffling. I decided I would go through the box later when I could handle it. That was four years ago.

  I laid the top stack of photos on the floor next to me. There were two journals. I remembered the first one that I had tucked the photo with Leo into. I opened the inside covers. Each one was dated: 1948-1949 and 1949-1950. I calculated how old my grandmother would have been during the time the journals were written. In 1949, she would have been twenty-three. I smiled. What was my grandmother like in her twenties? I wondered if she embraced her magic or denied it like I tried to as a teen.

  Under the stack of journals was a wooden box. The sides were smooth, but I noticed a circle carved into the top. I tried to open it, but it was sealed with a spell.

  Hmm. “Open.” I pointed to the lid, but the glitter fell to the floor, and the box didn’t budge. I concentrated harder. “Open.” I used my palm this time. The floor sparkled with the useless spell. It wasn’t working.

  I ran my fingers along the seam and traced the corners. My grandmother had sealed this for a reason, and knowing her, it was going to take a few spell combinations to get into it. I rubbed the top with my right hand and noticed my ring was the same size as the round carving. I chewed my bottom lip while wiggling the sapphire stone off my hand. Was this possible?

  I placed the ring into the circular groove. It fit perfectly. I closed my eyes and held both palms over the box. “Open,” I urged the lid.

  The spell swirled around the ring forming a mini-cyclone. The ring began to spin and then stopped. I heard a click and the lid popped.

  I could almost hear my pulse thumping in my veins. I was nervous and excited. I lifted the lid. I gasped. Lying in the middle of the box was a bottle that glowed with a glittery liquid. I picked it up and held it up to examine closer. Etched on the front was an L. My grandmother had never seemed more mysterious and interesting than in this moment. I had no idea what the bottle was, but I felt like I was holding something magically important in my palm.

  COOPER’S BARK shook me. I almost dropped the bottle. I didn’t know how long I had been staring at it. The shimmering crystals floating inside were hypnotizing. I traced my fingers over the L, wondering what it stood for. Lily? Leo? Love? I placed it in my lap. I pressed the box’s lid open on its hinges, exposing gold leaves woven together in a circle. I didn’t know how long the box had been closed before I inherited it, but the leaves looked freshly painted. They reminded me of the crowns worn in Greek mythology books.

  There was a chance my grandmother had provided answers in her journals. My father had told me she wanted me to have them, but it still felt like I was invading her privacy. I opened the first one in the set labeled 1948-1949. I wish I had been better at journaling. The only time I seemed to be consistent with it was in between boyfriends.

  I turned the page, ready to hear my grandmother’s twenty-three-old voice in the entries. It was blank. I thumbed to the next page. Nothing. I picked up the other journal, flipping through the worn pages, desperate to find pencil, ink, anything with her handwriting on it. I didn’t understand. Why did she give me blank journals? And why were they dated on the covers as if they were written in succession when obviously they were empty?

  Just when I thought I was going to reconnect with her again, the hope crumbled. I tried not to let the sorrow overwhelm me, but I hadn’t realized how much grief I was holding on to until the chance to learn more about her slipped away.

  I placed the bottle in the box, retrieved my ring, and stacked everything how I found it. Everything that is except for the picture of her and Leo. I walked over to my desk and leaned it against my lamp. There was more to the sparkly bottle and the journals, but I needed a break. I slipped on my sneakers and headed outside to play with Cooper. Maybe some fresh air and a round of tennis ball would clear my head and ease my heavy heart.

  That night after I set the house security alarm and checked all the doors twice, I curled up under my fluffy duvet with a new book. It was earlier than my usual bedtime, but I had been looking forward to cracking the spine on this book all day.

  I glanced at the ceiling and cast a brilliant star scene. “Twinkle.” Re
ading under the stars was an added bonus. I smiled when I heard Cooper start to snore. He always slept next to me in his plaid bed.

  I found Cassiopeia first, then Virgo. Next, I searched for the Lion. Another one of my favorites. Leo. I sprang out of bed. I knew how to read the journals. I rushed up the stairs to my office and turned on the lamp. My grandmother and Leo’s picture rested on the desk.

  I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it earlier. If the box was spelled close, the journals were also spelled, only they were invisible. I opened the first journal, placed it in my lap, and waved my hands over top.

  “Betray,” I whispered. I always thought this was an odd spell to call. Betrayal seemed like such a nasty word. If there were words on the page, this spell should call them forward.

  I opened my eyes, waiting to see if the spell worked. Nothing. Dammit. My grandmother had locked this in secret security mode. Holly or Ian might know how to reveal the words, but I felt like this was something between Gigi and me. It was my problem to figure out how to reveal the words.

  I picked up the wooden box and placed my ring into the center divot. As the particles from the spell began to swirl, my chest tightened. I had an idea for the bottle of elixir. As soon as the lid popped, I scooped it up and removed the cork. I tipped the bottle, careful only to drop a small amount on my finger. It felt thick and sticky like honey and glowed with whirling colors. I dabbed the drop on my palm and ran my hands together, making sure I covered the mixture from the tips of my fingers to the top of my wrist.

  I held my hand over the journal. “Betray,” I called. My hands glowed from the elixir. I closed my eyes and whispered the spell again.

  I squeezed my eyes together, afraid it hadn’t worked, but when I opened them, I looked at the journal. It was heavy, thick, and full of words. My grandmother’s words. I turned to the first page and read.

  November 18, 1948

  Charleston is more charming than I expected. It seems I will have to attend parties every Saturday and tea every Tuesday, but the girls are sweet and the boys are handsome. This place will do until it’s time.