Page 11 of No Charm Done

They walked toward the enchanted waterway, with Nate in the lead and the two sisters ambling behind. “So,” Luna said, sotto voce. “Any news on your wedding?”

Scarlett rolled her eyes. “Nada. Niente. Zippo. Nate doesn’t want to pull the trigger until we can go on a proper honeymoon afterwards. But we can’t go on a proper honeymoon if the forgetting spell means he turns into a total amnesiac somewhere over Niagara Falls.”

“Niagara Falls?!” Luna repeated disdainfully. “Please aim higher than that. Think Tuscany. Think Bora Bora. Or, how about this: I studied with an amazing coven in Bali that has the most gorgeous⁠—”

“Shut up, would you?! Stop rubbing it in. You know the rules perfectly well. Non-witches like Nate can’t leave town for any significant length of time without risking their memories. And he vows that until he can travel, there won’t be any ‘news’ about any wedding.”

“Okay, jeez! I was just asking.”

Scarlett sighed, giving her sister an apologetic squeeze. “I know . . . sorry. You hit a sore spot. But sore as it is, it’s not going to help you avoid my question from earlier: How do you plan to even reach the Void, much less get a prisoner out?”

Luna’s confidence wavered slightly. “Well, yeah, that’s the next challenge. I’ve been all over the world studying magic, and I’ve never heard anyone mention interdimensional magician prisons. And if Mama didn’t know about the Void’s existence, it’s unlikely anybody else in Oak Haven would either.” She paused, thinking through the problem out loud. “I need someone who knows about the creepiest, most forbidden types of magic. Someone who has access to antediluvian knowledge that most witches won’t touch. Hmm . . . I may have to call on an old friend in Nagaland, in northern India. Or the Indonesian islands of Raja Ampat. Or maybe Slough.”

Scarlett and Nate exchanged a look.

“Luna,” Scarlett said slowly, “are you sure there’s nobody closer to home? Think about it—who do we know who’s an expert on the most unsettling things in Oak Haven?”

“Hell,” Nate added with a shudder, “who do we know who literally is the most unsettling thing in Oak Haven?”

The realization hit like a physical blow. “Oh damn.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I have to go see Louise.”

Chapter 4

Mewling Meatsack

Luna stood outside Tout le Temps, staring at the sign: “TIMEPIECES REPAIRED * TEMPORAL CONSULTATIONS BY APPOINTMENT ONLY.” The letters shifted and writhed whenever she didn’t look directly at them.

A memory surfaced: herself at eight, bored on a Sunday, wandering into Louise’s shop. She’d knocked over an hourglass, and the time witch banished her to a medieval dungeon known as an Angstloch (literally, fear hole), complete with rats the size of rabbits and distant shrieks of tortured heretics.

When Luna had finally been retrieved by a frantic Mama, Louise’s only comment had been, “Perhaps the child will learn to mind her surroundings.”

She’d learned, all right. Learned to stay as far away from Louise Demain as humanly possible.

And yet here I am, she thought suddenly. Maybe Louise will help me save the day, or maybe she’ll help me make everything a thousand times worse.

Surely there had to be easier ways to get a day off work.

Luna’s arrival was announced by the bells on Louise’s door, tinkling out Chopin’s “Funeral March.”

Inside, the air shimmered with chronological instability. The shop’s walls curved in impossible ways, and none of the timepieces made sense with one another. Water clocks predating written history were side by side with chronometers from star systems that didn’t yet exist. Each piece beat to its own rhythm, kicking up not only a racket but also a fundamental disruption to the flow of time. Luna sensed it in her bones, the way seconds stretched and compressed, the way causality itself frayed at the edges.

She’d never dreamed that Louise’s shop could possibly get any weirder from the last time she visited. And yet.

The time witch perched in an ornate chair carved from a single massive gemstone. She drank tea from a delicate china cup, working on a complex timepiece as her tools floated through the air in precise choreography around the mechanism. Antique scrolls covered in symbols lay scattered across the table.

Despite the bells, Louise did not acknowledge Luna’s presence.

She stood there for a full minute, waiting. Then another minute. Then she cleared her throat softly.

Nothing.

“Um, Louise?” she ventured. “Ms. Demain?”

Louise’s violet eyes finally lifted to fix on the young witch with a sort of predatory intensity. Her floating tools clattered to the floor. Somewhere behind Luna, a grandfather clock chimed disapprovingly.

“What pestilential mote breaches the sanctity of my domain?” Louise’s voice somehow carried its own echo, along with the promise of unspeakable consequences. “Speak, you paltry speck, before I relocate your consciousness to the heat death of the universe.”

Luna took a steadying breath. “Nice to see you, Louise. It’s Luna Melrose. I was hoping you could help me with something.”