I had a suspicion that my magic faded with age, like estrogen, draining youth and power from my body, turning me into an old crone soaked in wine, and leaving me with an excessive amount of bitter baggage. At least, that was how I felt at thirty-one, past my prime. I’d stupidly wasted my youth on a man who put off marrying me for so long, only to dump me at the altar and banish me from his life and his kingdom, all in a matter of minutes.
I groaned, settling down onto a tree stump caked with a questionable fungus. The drizzle of rain dissolved into a mist, wrapping around me in a blanket of wet gloom and matching my mood. Anger bubbled inside me like a cauldron of witch’s brew, ready to explode and destroy its next victim.
Could this be early menopause? I thought with a sudden pang of panic.
“Ahem,” I cleared my throat and shook the thought from my head, determined to focus on something I’d not tried yet—the darker creatures of the forest.
My spells usually involved singing birds, cuddly bunnies, and doe-eyed deer. But there was one time, a while back, I’d accidentally summoned a rabid alligator. Of course, I’d hidden up in a tree until he left, but I always wondered if my charms could be used for more than sweet, princessy qualities, as my ex used to put it. You know, those things I’d lost when I became a worthless humanish bag of bones.
“Fa-la-la-la, rawr, la-la-la,” I tried, bellowing out the lowest spooky tone I could.
But nothing happened.
“I said, fa-la-la-la, rawr, la-la-la!” I screamed into the clearing, but only the windswept leaves echoed back.
I scuffed my boot into the dirt, kicking a pebble across the way before taking a deep breath and trying again.
“La-la-la, rawr, la-la-la.” My voice rang out as it had years ago when my magic was strong and powerful enough to command an army of squirrels, nibbling the ankles of all my enemies.
A blanket of clouds thickened overhead, forming a sinister chill in the air. The hair on the back of my neck prickled. I had a feeling I wasn’t alone anymore.
“La-la-la, rawr, la-la-la,” I sang again, louder.
Footsteps, much heavier than a bunny’s, pattered behind me. I stood up and threw my hands in the air, still singing and ignoring the feeling of someone watching me. I twirled, singing in harmony with the wind in the trees, the drizzle of rain, and the low hum of the clouds growing overhead. My senses awakened to the natural life around me, and for the first time in a year, I felt whole again.
I spun around the clearing, singing my heart out and skipping through the mud until—as my luck would have it—a man, not a beastly creature under my command, walked into my life.
“You rang,” said a deep voice behind me.
I turned to see a tall, dark figure stepping out of the shadows. His mouth curled, as if on the edge of laughter, displaying a glimpse of two deadly sharp fangs.
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