Wicked sorceress Cora must ruin someone's life before her eighteenth birthday or lose her magic forever, a task made tricky when she falls for her chosen victim.
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Cora Emerson is a magical misfortune who just can't get the hang of being a wicked...
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"Can you hear me, Cora? Cora? Look, she's waking up."
Cora winced. Her head ached as she opened her eyes, meeting several or so expectant gazes huddled around her. "What... what just happened?"
"You fainted, dummy," said Willow, and it was a relief of sorts to hear the usual tone of her voice as if all was normal. As if...
Cora sat up, one hand on top of her bruised forehead. "Be easy," said Beau, reaching out for her and she almost wanted to listen, but something wasn't quite right, was it?
She struggled to her feet with help from him. Most of the crowd dispersed, seeing that she wasn't dead or having a fit. "We should get you some ice for that head," Beau said, looking at her as if she might take another tumble at any point.
"I don't need ice." She didn't mean to sound so snippy. Though the knot on her head throbbed with pain, there was a change she felt deep down but couldn't explain.
"Are you okay, sweetie?" a pink-cheeked woman asked. "Are you sure you don't want to sit?"
"No. I'm fine. I think I need to get home. Willow." She caught her sister's gaze. Willow watched her much like Beau, still in shock of what had happened. Could she feel it too, or maybe the sensation was an after effect of fainting? She couldn't tell. "Say goodbye to Oliver. It's time to go."
"Fine," said Willow, as if that wasn't strange enough because most people couldn't tell Willow what to do without a fight.
"I'd give you a ride home, but I took the train here. Hold on. I'll call you a cab." Beau had out his phone before Cora could respond, but she supposed taking the train after falling over wasn't wise in the least.
It took her some time to regain steadiness, even though she'd convinced everyone a proper homecooked meal was all she needed. "Don't worry about me. It's probably because I haven't eaten since breakfast," she reassured Beau, which wasn't a lie because she hadn't.
He didn't argue but saw her and Willow all the way to their cab, paid for it too. "Call me when you get home," he said, closing the door behind her. She didn't let herself think on it too much. It would take more than her fainting to make up for what she'd done to his grandmother. There was probably a lot more he wanted to say, she assured herself.
Sitting in the backseat beside her sister, Cora rested her head against the cool leather, hoping it would soothe her headache. The strangeness of what happened left her in a restless state of uncertainty and she still had no clue why.
"Mom's going to have a fit. She's called my phone ten times. See." Willow dangled the bright screen in front of Cora's face.
"Willow," said Cora, brushing the phone away.
"Don't look at me," Willow said. "You're the older one, the encourager." She jabbed Cora's arm with her elbow in jest.
