Cherie Colyer - Hold Tight

“What started the fight?”

“Stupidity on a friend’s part. She pissed off the wrong guy.”

“Girlfriend?” I asked. A teeny part of me was jealous at the thought of someone else kissing Isaac, and a bigger part of me was truly curious to know more about his life before we met.

“Ex,” he replied. “We’d already broken up by that time.”

“And you still stepped in to be the hero? Isaac, I do believe you’re a true gentleman.” I took a step back. Isaac’s hands slid from inside my pockets and fell to his side. I faked holding out a skirt and curtsied.

He tickled my waist. “He was hurting her, smartass.”

The bell on the microwave went off again.

“Do you want to eat downstairs?” he asked.

“Sure.”

We descended the curved staircase to Isaac’s basement bedroom. It was dark at first, but I knew now that was due to one of Isaac’s wards: a type of protection spell he’d cast when he had first discovered Gloucester crawled with people who possessed the powers. There was a nook in the wall every third step, each occupied by a candle that flickered to life as we passed.

I had tried something similar in my room, only I’d used a three-wick candle. It was supposed to light by itself when I crossed the threshold. The only thing I had accomplished, however, had been a very curious look from my dad, who had wanted to know if there was a spider in my room that was making me pace in and out of it with such a disgusted look on my face. He’d even offered to get my brother to kill it for me. My dad was full of jokes.

Isaac set a couple pillows on the stone floor and then excused himself as he ducked into the bathroom. I set my plate down and quickly took the book on Fae out of my purse.

It was Isaac’s mom who’d told me the stories about the Fae, kind creatures who would clean the homes of humans in exchange for cream. I’d nearly spit my hot cider across the dining room table when she’d brought it up.

“You’re joking,” I’d said after managing to compose myself.

She’d held her hand up, three fingers raised and thumb holding her pinky down. “Scout’s honor. My aunt used to leave a bowl of cream out so they’d keep coming back.” Taking a sip of tea, she’d then leaned forward, her heather-gray eyes alight with the memory. “Let me tell you, you could see your reflection off just about every smooth surface in her house. It was that clean.”

“Have you ever seen a faerie, Mrs. Addington?”

I’d been dying to know if they were little people with wings like Tinker Bell, but she couldn’t say for sure. Her mom hadn’t been as open to inviting faeries into their home and never let her children spend the night at her aunt’s.

Later that same evening, I had thumbed through the ironclad book in Isaac’s room. It talked about a complex world and two courts: the Seelie, which was believed to be good, and the Unseelie, which was malignant. It discussed solitary Fae, bogies, solstice celebrations, rules for seeing them, and more.

“Haven’t you read enough about the supernatural world?” Isaac had asked when he’d seen me with the book.

“Are you kidding? When a girl discovers demons and faeries are real, she’s going to look for evidence of unicorns and pixie dust.” And a summoning spell , but I’d kept that last comment to myself because, as open as Isaac was about using our powers, he’d already told me he didn’t trust anything that wasn’t human.

In fact, he had slid the book from my grasp and said, “Believe me. You aren’t going to find anything useful in The Fae .”

But it had been too late. I’d already seen a page containing a summoning spell. Seelie had been scribbled in the margin. I recognized the narrow handwriting as Isaac’s. Someone else had tweaked the incantation, though, crossing out a word here and a phrase there and replacing each with others. I bet the spell was how Isaac had managed to pack his things so meticulously when he’d moved from Amesbury to Gloucester this past October.

Isaac’s aversion to the whole subject had me believing he wouldn’t have been keen on me taking The Fae home, so I’d secretly borrowed it.

And I had to admit, after hearing that creepy voice three-fourths of the way through casting the spell to summon a faerie, I wasn’t so keen on it either.

I’d just turned to place The Fae on the black sphere chair when Isaac rejoined me.

“Why is it every girl is obsessed with faeries?” he said.

I looked at the stolen contraband still in my hot hands. Relieved he hadn’t seen me pull it from my purse, I mused, “Tinker Bell rules.”

Isaac rolled his eyes. “That’s because she’s been Disney-fied.”

I dropped the book on top of the pile and took a seat. We held our plates and used his bed as a backrest.

“How are you liking The Scarlet Letter ?” Isaac took a bite of lasagna, immediately making a face. “Needs cheese.” He held his hand out in front of him. “ Accio parmesan cheese.”

A shaker container appeared in his hand.

“Omigod! That’s a real spell?” I asked.

He chuckled, burying his pasta in a layer of white flecks. “I was just messing around. Psychokinesis is easy once you learn to manipulate matter. No spell needed. But they did get some things right in those movies.”

“Like what?” I generously sprinkled cheese over my dinner.

“The black dog, for one—it’s a hell hound—and there are a ton of uses for mandrake root. The plants don’t come alive and scream if you pull them out of dirt, though.”

“And wands?” I asked through a mouthful of noodles.

“They add flair to a spell.” He raised his hand, fingers gripping his fork in front of him, and gave a flick and a swoosh of his wrist. “Otherwise, they’re strictly decorative.”

Isaac had taught me a few spells. They pulled power from our surroundings and transformed it into energy we could use to do our bidding, no fancy words required.

He reached over me and sifted through the pile of books on the chair, eventually handing me one. “This is one of my favorite books.”

“ Earthly Elements ?” I asked.

“It’s more useful than a book on devious creatures that will twist your words to their advantage.”

After what I’d heard when I’d attempted to perform the summoning spell, I wasn’t going to argue with him.

“Besides,” he continued, “you need to know which natural elements will protect you and which will invite trouble.” He opened the book to a random page and went back to eating.

I read the first paragraph. “You think I’m going to need to know how to make a deal at a crossroad?”

“Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the best example,” Isaac replied through a full mouth. He swallowed. “But we have used crossroad dirt. Haven’t you wondered why?”

I hadn’t, but according to the book, demons could be summoned at a crossroad that passed through the point where the veil between worlds was at its thinnest. The ground in these locations absorbed the lingering power like a sponge.

“Do you really think someone would make a deal with the devil in exchange for talent?” I asked, still scanning the page.

“Yeah, I do. Ever hear Robert Johnson’s music?”

I shook my head.

“My grandfather used to listen to him all the time. ‘Cross Road Blues’ is all about a deal being made.”

I shuddered at the thought of selling my soul just to be the best at something.

“Witches don’t need to make deals, though,” Isaac said. Curiosity had me pulling my gaze away from the page to look at him. He smiled and went on. “If we want to play the guitar, we can simply bewitch it.” He shrugged. “It’s cheating, though. Not very honorable, if you ask me, but at least we wouldn’t be giving away our souls just so we can strum a few tunes. That reminds me, I checked on Emma last night.”