1
I woke up, barely opening my bleary eyes before stretching. Clunk! My eyes snapped open as I wondered why the hell my hand had connected with something hard in bed. “Oh no,” I said, touching the clear, glassy shell that enclosed me. “Oh, no, no, no. Damn you, Tess!” I reached out for my phone that I always kept beside me for just this reason. I hadn’t had it with me the morning I’d woken surrounded by thorny rose vines, so I’d been bloody careful since then. I felt around on the sheets, unable to look away from the thick glass case. It wasn’t even that close to me, I had to extend my arms out fully to touch it, but my breath was already starting to come in faster and shallower. “Breathe, breathe,” I said, but my heart just started to gallop. I turned on my side deliberately to actually search for my phone. All I had to do was find it, ring Tess and she’d come and get me out of this. She’d better. It was then I saw where my phone was, lying outside of my glass cocoon, a slightly warped dark-grey shape.
“Fuck!” The tide of anxiety I was trying to hold back rose and swamped me. I really needed a piss, I always did in the morning, like any bloody normal person. What was I going to do? My bladder felt like a bomb sitting between my legs, just waiting to go off. And how much oxygen did I have in this thing? I looked around me for air holes or vents anywhere. I started to pant, it didn’t have any. It was then that I realised why; this was a glass coffin.
“Snow fucking White. Tess, are you serious?” I smacked my head back on my pillow and tried to get my mind to race as fast as my heart. What happened in the Disney movie? She took a bite of the poisoned apple, and the dwarves buried her in a glass coffin, and then . . . her prince arrived and gave her true love’s kiss. I cursed, slamming my palms into the lid of the coffin, getting nothing more than sore hands for my efforts. Waiting around to be rescued, typical damned Tess. I was going to kill my sister when I got to work.
I knew there was no point, but I kicked the glass and when that didn't work, felt with tender fingers along the surface, looking for a catch or even a seam where the lid met the base of the coffin, but it all just felt resolutely smooth and cool. I belted the casket one more time with my elbow out of sheer frustration. “Ow! Ow! Ow! Mother fucking . . .”
My eyes snapped open as I felt a slight breeze on my face. A go
rgeous-looking guy peered down at me with a dumbstruck expression. “Madam, are you quite well?”
“Oh, God, yes!” I vaulted to my feet, shoved the lid off the coffin and made a beeline for the bathroom. “Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go,” I said and then slammed the door behind me. “Blessed, blessed relief,” I said, relaxing muscles I didn’t know I’d been holding tight. I took deep breaths, sucking in the clean, though perhaps not sweet-smelling, air. I was never taking oxygen for granted again.
“Ah, madam . . .?” The toilet door handle began to twist.
“Are you serious? I’m on the loo!” I quickly finished off the process and yanked my pyjama pants up as he opened the door.
“I’m sorry, I don’t under . . . Oh!” the prince’s face was a picture of mortification as he saw exactly what he’d opened it on. “I’ll wait out here then.”
“You think?” I snapped before slamming the door, locking it and heading over to the sink to wash my hands. Then I saw it. “Oh, you’ve got to be joking.” In the mirror instead of my usual shaggy light-brown hair and hazel eyes, I had waist-length black hair, cornflower-blue eyes, and skin that looked like it had never seen the sun. I scrubbed at my mouth, which currently looked like I’d put on bright-red lipstick before bed. Nope, that wasn’t working. Looks like I was stuck with this for today. I opened the bathroom door with a frown.
“Who opens the door on someone going to the toilet?” I snapped.
“I apologise most profusely, madam. I had no idea you were using the facilities. My horse led me to your building, and I climbed your many stairs to come to your room and find the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, in a glass coffin. I felt a completely overwhelmingly need to kiss you . . . like I do now.” He started to lean towards me, puckering his lips.
“Ah, no! None of that! Seriously, you saw someone in a coffin, and you felt like kissing them? Is that normal? I’ve never really thought about it before, but it's kinda weird to go around trying to kiss girls who’ve been laid to rest.”
“Well, it was obvious you weren’t dead. You were hitting your bed and crying a little–”
“Was not!”
“Well, perhaps it was perspiration. I apologise again. I’m not normally so completely devoid of manners. May I introduce myself? I am Prince Harold of the Eastern Marches.” I took his hand and shook it despite wanting to just throw him out on the street. As with every other manifestation of my grandmother’s spell, he would only last the day. He could fend for himself on the mean streets of a modern metropolis, couldn’t he? I let out a long sigh, pulling my hand back and scrubbing at my scalp. I was a bitch, but not that much of a bitch. I checked him out, it was the usual combination of high cheekbones, strong jaw, a wave of black hair and piercing blue eyes. We looked more like brother and sister than potential lovers.
“Look, I’ve got to get dressed and get ready for work. You can come and stay with me and the gang at the Magicorium for the day, we’ll keep you out of trouble. You’ll be back in the Eastern Marches this time tomorrow. Just . . . no more trying to kiss me, OK?”
“Of course, that was a . . . well two, unforgivable lapses. I’m not sure what a Magicorium is, but I’m sure it will be delightful.”
“It’s my grandmother’s, was my grandmother’s magic shop,” I said, “and now it’s mine and my sister’s.”
2
“Tess!” I shoved open the front door of McKinnon’s Magicorium, the many brass bells, which hung on the back, smashing against each other in a noisy clang rather than their usual more genteel twinkle. “Jez, where the hell is my sister?”
“Morning, Ash. What are we today?” Jez , looking me over with a broad smile. Jez had worked for my grandmother before we inherited the business and was in her late 20s, like me. Unlike me, she embraced the whole witchcraft thing, rocking a kind of quirky Goth vibe with ripped black jeans, big boots, heavy black-rimmed glasses, and a black t-shirt that read 'Witches aren’t real? Weird, I’m standing right here.’ “Aurora? No, that was last week. Belle?”
“Fuck off, you know exactly who I am.”
“Rapunzel? The hair is longer but not that long.”
“Jez, where’s Tess?”
“In the back, Snow White. Ah, and this must be your prince.” Prince Harold came inside the door, eyes wide. I couldn’t take him in the car because he had a bloody huge horse waiting for him downstairs. The shop was only a couple of blocks from my apartment, so I gave him directions and told him to meet me here. Obviously, negotiating a horse in peak-hour traffic was a bit of an eye-opener.
“Harold, this is Jez. Jez, babysit the prince for me.”
“Well, sure,” she said with a purr and waved him over, settling him down in one of the big velvet-covered armchairs we kept in the reading area.
“My lady, if you are about to face a challenge, I should be by your side,” he said as I moved to the back of the shop, trying to get up, but Jez pushed him firmly down.
“I’m just going to talk to my sister. It’s OK.”
She knew before I even opened my mouth. “I’m sorry! I didn’t read anything last night, I promise!”
“So, how the hell did I wake up inside a glass coffin?”
“I-I dreamt about that time Nan and Pa took us to see Snow White at the cinema. Do you remember?”
“You vomited popcorn all over me in the car ride home. Of course, I remember. Jesus, Tess, couldn’t you call me? Do you know what it’s like to wake up in a coffin?”
“I know, I know, and with your claustrophobia and everything. I sent you a text. You said you were going to keep your phone on you.”
I grabbed my phone out, and sure enough, she’d sent me several texts. I sighed, “So it’s not just what you’re reading. Dammit, I thought we had this sorted.”
“It’s not going to stop, not until the conditions of the spell are fulfilled. You know that.”
She was right, I just didn’t want to know it. When the family had attended the reading of Nan’s will, specifically the part when she said she’d willed us ownership of her old magic–sorry, occult supplies–store, we had been shocked. That had shifted into disbelief and questions about Nan’s mental health when the lawyer read out, “And tell my granddaughters that I love them, that I always regret not being able to live long enough to see them continue to grow into the amazing women they already are. But I am an old meddler, and I can’t help but use the power I have left and leave as my dying wish that each of you will find true happiness and someone to share your life with. I have crafted a spell on the Magicorium that will activate the moment the two of you take over the shop.”