The server sets two new mugs of cocoa on the table. Perfect timing. I grab mine and take a sip.
“We didn’t order these,” Luna says.
“Oh.” She flusters. “My mistake. I must have gotten you confused with another table.” She glances at me and my partially drunk coco. “They’re yours now unless you prefer I take them away.”
Luna blinks. Considers the question. Glances at me. “It’s fine,” she says.
The server nods and moves away, heads back toward the kitchen.
“I don’t know why I did that.” I motion to the mug, referencing the haste with which I took a sip. “I should have realized it was a mistake.” I glance toward the kitchen entrance and our disappearing server. Note a familiar face. “Or was it?”
“What?” Luna starts to turn around, but I grab her arm and stop her. “We need to go.” I pull a twenty from my bag, pray it’s enough, drop it on the table, and once more, drag us away from the bokor’s crazy lackeys. “Are they here? Did they find us?” She glances over her shoulder.
We rush out the door, head for my bike. I really don’t want to take the time to mess with the lock. Not now. I reach into my pocket and grab a pinch of spice, toss it toward the bolt.
The spice swirls through the air in a beautiful, seamless dance. The tiny particles sprinkle over the chain and connecting latch. It springs apart, and the bike jumps to the ready. Without hesitation, I leap into position, and Luna slips in behind me.
“How did you do that?” she asks and I push us into a quick exit. Pedal with all my might, moving us down the sidewalk.
“I told you I was a witch.” I don’t glance back at her. I keep my attention on our forward motion.
People are jumping out of our way and yelling at us as we pass.
“Yeah, but.” Luna tightens her grip around my waist. “I thought magick required the casting of spells and timing with the moon phases.”
“Some. Not all.” I crank, crank, crank us forward. My stomach rolls, and a thick churning of discomfort slides through me. The urgent desire to race to a bathroom hits me, and for a moment, it is all I can think about.
I groan.
“Are you alright?” Luna asks.
I want to say that I am, but I think that would be a lie. The pressure of her hold creates within me the desire to hurl. Why? Why am I feeling this way?
An image of the gratuitous cocoa jumps to mind, followed by the vision of the bokor’s two goons standing near the kitchen. Did they do something to me in an attempt to stop me from helping Luna?
I groan again.
“Get off of the sidewalk, kid,” someone yells.
I ignore them, keep moving away from the men.
A clueless jaywalker jumps onto the sidewalk in front of me.
I swerve right.
Someone stepping out of the adjacent market, yelps, jumps back, drops their bag. Items spill from the bag and scatter across the pavement.
I swerve left. Then a hard left. Jump the bike off the sidewalk and into the street. One of the spilled items rolls into our path. I have no time to react. The front tire slams into it, and we stop hard. The back of the bike rises. We are going to crash.
I witness everything happening in slow motion. It’s a nightmare I can’t escape. The bike flipping. Luna and me flying through the air. The asphalt our projected destination. The cars moving down the street in our direction. My spices breaking free from my pockets.
It’s an ugly, nasty nightmare that is one hundred percent true.
“I want to be home. I wish I were home,” I mumble, tight and fast.
I hit the ground. Roll onto my back.
I’m lying on the grass, looking up at the façade of Grandma’s house.
I jolt to a sit. Did I just magickally transport us across town?
Luna sits up and rubs her head. “How did you do that… and where are we?”
Bastian is there in an instant, rubbing against my side. Grandma steps out onto her new front porch. “That looked like a hard landing. Are you girls alright?”
I stare at her for a moment, then lurch sideways and vomit on the lawn.
“Oh dear.” Grandma rushes down the front steps as quickly as her weary legs will allow. “Oh goodness,” she says, putting her arms around me and helping me to a stand. “Let’s get you inside.”
We move toward the house, and Luna lingers on the front lawn, shifting her weight and swaying in place.
“Come on, child.” Grandma motions for Luna to follow. “I’m not going to bite you. I’m Belle’s grandma. I just want to see that you are both properly cared for.”
Bastian circles at her feet, mewing and begging for attention. She pets the cat and moves to retrieve the bike.
“Leave it,” Grandma says. “We’ll get that later.”
Luna glances at the bike, then back to me and Grandma. She obediently follows. Once inside the house, I extricate myself from my grandma’s guidance and rush for the downstairs bathroom. Relieve more vile substance from my system.
I wash my face, drop the lid down on the toilet, and take a seat. Rest my head in my hands.
My head is thrumming, insides are twisting, bones are aching, and I can’t decide if I am hot or cold. Death has got to be easier than suffering through this. Did those creepy dudes slip me something in the cocoa? Did they poison me?
“How are you doing in there, sweetie?” Grandma calls through the door.
“I’m going to live.” My response is close to a moan and slithering in misery.
“I would sure hope so.” She moves away, out of earshot.
With a harsh shiver, I break into a cold sweat. So, I wet a washcloth and press it
