Page 4 of A Witch in Notting Hill

“Do you think she’s going to a new film site?”

“Willow!”

With nowhere to hide and my anxiety knotting itself in the base of my throat, I turned back to the TSA agent, relieved she was still standing in the doorway of the small room we’d been in only seconds before. She heaved yet another frustrated sigh and swung her arm wide, motioning for me to come back in.

This was going to be harder than I thought. And if I couldn’t even manage the airport, how the hell was I going to manage London?

Before I could overthink it, I heard my grandmother’s voice in the back of my mind:Don’t be afraid to use your gift, Wills.

If only she were here. And if only I was half as confident in what I could actually do. But I knew I’d be letting her down if I didn’t try, and even though I rarely used magic in public, especially after I’d been recognized, I didn’t have much of a choice.

“Thank you,” I said to the agent as I slipped back into the room. She tutted under her breath and shook her head but said nothing. “If I could just have a minute to collect myself, maybe come up with a plan to avoid the crowd, I’ll be out of your hair. I promise.” I looked around the room, trying to clock anything that might be useful to me: desktop computer, ancient printer, stained wall calendar, stapler, file cabinet, a wilted fern. Bingo.

“In private, please,” I added, my pleading genuine. At this she scoffed, and if I wasn’t mistaken, I definitely caught an eye roll, but still, she said nothing. An angel.

The second she closed the door behind her, I unzipped Vera’s carrier and stared directly into her gorgeous feline face. “I’m going to do it,” I whispered. “I’m going to try to use magic to get us out of this. Just this one time, I swear. Once we’re in LondonI’m going to be better about hiding and I won’t get us into a mess like this.” She narrowed her eyes. “I know, I know, it was a mistake to do this without security. But I did that for your benefit, too, remember? So now we have to make do.” She made a small sound, which I took as permission.

“Right,” I continued, reaching for the fern. I rubbed its waxy leaves between my fingers, trying to remember how my grandmother taught me to channel the earth, to breathe with the pattern of the veins, to turn faces toward the sun. “If I can get everyone to just face the sunset long enough for me to get through security,” I mumbled to Vera, trying to remember exactly how my grandmother had done it all those years ago.

Ivy, my sister, had broken her leg playing in the yard, and my grandmother hadn’t wanted me to see her pain. Before I knew it, I was watching the setting sun streak across the sky and counting its colors while she was carrying Ivy inside, and I was none the wiser. Just a kid enamored by the sunset.

I let the memory well in the front of my mind, sharp and rich and palpable. I closed my eyes, smelling the wet grass, listening to the chirping crickets that signaled the start of summer, feeling the warm New York breeze on my skin.Come on.My grandmother materialized in my memory, pressing her hands into the earth for a prolonged moment just before she scooped Ivy into her arms and I lost sight of them both.

I squeezed the leaves of the fern tighter between my fingers, watching the memory like it was an old movie. As it flicked across the backs of my eyelids, I felt the familiar hum of electricity in my fingertips.Come on.I saw her yard, the swings still in motion, the faded fence, the tomato plant. Pins and needles moved from my fingers to my toes, then my chest, then the tip of my tongue.

Then the door flung open.

And all eyes were on the sky.

“Holy shit,” I whispered to Vera. “I’ve done it.” Her eyebrows were raised, like,We better get the hell out of here before the spell short-circuits and we’re both cats, and she was right. I grabbed the carrier and raced out the door, holding my breath as I slipped into the line.

I shuffled forward, with every step braced for the inevitable failure. Back through the ropes, back to the TSA agent—with the proper paperwork this time—back to praying he didn’t say anything out loud when he scanned my ID, and wanting to kiss him when he was kind enough not to.

By the time I made it through the body scanner and had my hands “randomly” dusted for bomb residue (probably on account of the suspicious cat, who was glaring pointedly at every person we passed), I exhaled for what felt like the first time since I touched the fern.

And all at once, all eyes were focused on me again.

If I was going to change Vera back, I was going to have to get a lot better at this.

Chapter 3

Willow

When we finally made it to Heathrow, we were both exhausted. Not just red-eye exhausted, but the kind of exhausted that comes with overstimulation and a general sense of panic that even the usual daily dose of antianxiety medication can’t fix.

Okay, maybe that was just me. Vera was asleep in her carrier, and I felt my jealousy like hunger pangs.

Or maybe thosewerehunger pangs. When was the last time we’d eaten? I’d been too stressed to eat on the flight and Vera had been sound asleep, so we missed every meal they’d tried to serve. And there was no way I was actually going to feed Vera cat food, was I?

I was contemplating whether that was appropriate or degrading when I saw the Pret A Manger logo in the distance, calling to me like an oasis in the desert. This reallywasthe Queen’s Terminal.

By the time we were armed with sandwiches (cheddar and pickle for me, tuna for Vera) and cold brew (just me—I had todraw the line somewhere), I was ready to get my ass to Coven & Codex and find some answers.

Though the more I looked at Vera, who seemed to be getting cozier in the carrier by the minute, I was beginning to wonder whether she was equally desperate. I couldn’t even remember the last time she went on vacation (despite my insistence), so I had to imagine there wassomethingpositive about getting the chance to lie down and do nothing for the foreseeable. Or that was just something I was telling myself to feel better about the whole thing. Hard to say.

With my suitcase in one hand and Vera in the other, I made my way to the Underground. The anonymity of a crowded train platform was so satisfying that I allowed myself to take a deep breath for the first time since LA, but I learned my lesson and remembered not to remove my hat or sunglasses, no matter how desperate I was to have a break from the disguise.

The last thing I needed on this adventure was for someone to recognize me.