Page 11 of The Nowhere Witch

“That’s never happened before,” I said as I tried to sop up the mess around the glass.

“It’s normal. Usually happens at a younger age, but considering your history…” I must’ve looked stumped, because he continued. “Your magical muscles are growing, and you still don’t really have any practice controlling them.”

“At least it’s hot again,” I said, then took a sip as I eyed up Oscar.

The first time I met him was when he’d brought the magic tester gem to Hawk, and his arrogance and glib remarks had runneth over. Turned out he was a pretty nice guy. Maybe nicer than I even realized.

“You didn’t just run into me on the street today, did you? You came to find me. You knew what Hawk was up to.” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“I still don’t know if this was his plan or a happy happenstance for him, but I suspected you’d have an issue.”

“Your friend is a jerk.”

“Like I said, he can be.” Oscar spread his hands in awhat can you dogesture.

“Thanks, Oscar. You really helped me out.” It sucked that hugs weren’t acceptable in Xest.

He shook his head. “Don’t go laying that halo on my head anytime soon. I have my own reasons.”

“What would your reasons be to get me a job?” My desire to hug him was diminishing.

He leaned back in his seat with his drink, a small smile on his lips. “I have them. Don’t worry, though—no debt to be paid, at least not from you.”

5

I’d been avoiding the broker’s office, more specifically, the owner of the brokerage. Now I barged in, hoping to find Hawk here. The place was closed, but the door still opened for me, which meant he hadn’t revoked my key. How nice of him to allow me easy access here, considering he was trying to have me run out of Xest.

The main office was empty, and so was the back room. The door upstairs wouldn’t open to his place unless he wanted it that way, which he wouldn’t. I could leave him a note, but a scathing memo didn’t pack the same punch as a good old rant in person.

There was a pile of newsflash papers on Zab’s desk. That would certainly get him here, but then all of Xest would know my business—or more of it, anyway. There had been enough of it on display today.

I wandered about the room I hadn’t set foot in for months. My table was still there, baskets in place, the flower still there as well. Was Zab watering my flower, or had Hawk hired someone else to come and do the sorting and they were tending it? I ignored the urge to throw the table onto its side at the thought. He could do whatever he wanted. Hawk and this place were in my rearview.

The Helexorgomay’s gears churned, stopped, and then repeated a little faster. I glanced up at Helen, the wish machine that took up most of the upper wall. Some people found the sound of the ocean, or birds chirping in spring, soothing. Not me. This was the sound I’d missed. It reminded me of a screen door slamming in summer as you walked in your house after a long day, the sound of your family’s laughter and the familiar creak of a floorboard.

“It’s been a long while,” I said, laying a hand on the bronze machinery, feeling the hum of her immense magic as it sent a tingle through my fingers.

Helen’s gears picked up speed and then stopped. A little slip of paper flew out of the slot and landed by my feet, face-up.

I told you not to leave. You’re supposed to be here.

Did she know why I’d left? The way things had gone down? The way Hawk had rushed me out before I’d gotten a chance to even say proper goodbyes? Probably. She was the great Helexorgomay machine. The all-knowing Helen. She’d know every detail, probably down to the kiss and the angry reaction right afterward. She probably thought I should’ve been tougher. I had been most of my life, but when I came here, I’d had a blip.

When I came here, not knowing what to do, at a complete loss, I’d trusted Hawk. I’d started to rely on him. I’d let him take control of my life in a way I’d never let anyone before. And when he told me to leave, I’d done it, even if it hadn’t felt right. I’d regretted it ever since. I wouldn’t fold again, not ever.

I folded the paper and put it in my pocket, wanting a small piece of this place, of her, in case I never set foot in here again. It was a reminder that even if things got tough again, Helen thought I belonged. She was the wish machine. If someone had an opinion I should trust, it was hers.

“I know. I should’ve fought harder. I will this time, though.”

Another slip shot out.

Don’t. Fold. Again. You’re stronger than you realize.

Fold. She’d used the same word I’d thought of. Yeah, Helen knew it all.

Another slip flew to my feet.

Yes, I do.