“Hey, Daise.” She answered on the second ring. “What’s going on?” I was so relieved to hear her voice, I had to choke back an involuntary sob. “Daisy?” Jen’s voice sharpened. “What’s up?”

“Not sure,” I whispered. “Either I’m having an aneurysm or I’ve been hexed.”

“Are you serious? Jesus! Did you call 911?”

“No.” I closed my eyes. Blocking out the light helped a very little bit. “Can’t see to dial.”

“Okay, hang on. I’m coming to take you to the ER.”

“Wait, wait!” Now that my panic was ratcheting down a notch, the prospect of massive medical costs alarmed me. As a part-time employee, I didn’t have health insurance, which had never worried me that much because I never got sick. And I’d never had to explain the quirks of my hell-spawn physiognomy to unfamiliar doctors. They’d probably want to hospitalize me for my temperature alone. “I just . . . it really might be a hex, Jen. Or a migraine! What if it’s a migraine?”

“What if it’s not?” she asked with acerbity. “And by the way, why do you think it might be a hex?”

“Long story.” I cupped my right hand over my pulsating jaw. “I’ve got a toothache, too.”

“A toothache?”

“I know, I know! But seriously, it feels like someone’s trying to chisel it in half.”

“Okay, listen.” Jen’s tone was pragmatic. “It doesn’t sound like you’re dying. More like maybe you have an impacted wisdom tooth or something. Maybe you’re having a severe reaction because you never freakin’ get sick. Let me call Doc Howard and see if he can take a look at you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Call you back in a sec. Oh, and, Daise? If he can’t, I am taking you to the ER,” she warned me.

“Okay,” I repeated.

Within three minutes, Jen called me back to say Doc Howard would see me and she was on her way to pick me up. Within ten minutes, her ancient LeBaron convertible pulled into the alley. I grabbed my messenger bag, put on my hobgoblin-cracked sunglasses, and fumbled my way down the stairs, my head swimming with pain. Even with the sunglasses, the sunlight hit me like a ton of bricks. Closing my eyes again, I began feeling my way around the LeBaron to the passenger side.

“Jesus!” Jen got out of the car and steered me by the elbow. “You look like crap, Daise. Are you sure you don’t want to go to the ER?”

“Yeah.” I slid into the cracked vinyl seat. “I’m sure.”

“Are you aware that your sunglasses are broken?”

“Uh-huh.” I leaned my head against the headrest.

She put the car in gear. “Just checking. Now what the hell’s up with this hex business?”