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Back Spells for Lost Things Save as PDF
Chapters (42)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Prologue
  5. – 1 – Willow
  6. – 2 – Mason
  7. – 3 – Willow
  8. – 4 – Mason
  9. – 5 – Willow
  10. – 6 – Mason
  11. – 7 – Willow
  12. – 8 – Mason
  13. – 9 – Willow
  14. – 10 – Mason
  15. – 11 – Willow
  16. – 12 – Mason
  17. – 13 – Willow
  18. – 14 – Mason
  19. – 15 – Willow
  20. – 16 – Mason
  21. – 17 – Willow
  22. – 18 – Mason
  23. – 19 – Willow
  24. – 20 – Mason
  25. – 21 – Willow
  26. – 22 – Mason
  27. – 23 – Willow
  28. – 24 – Mason
  29. – 25 – Willow
  30. – 26 – Mason
  31. – 27 – Willow
  32. – 28 – Mason
  33. – 29 – Willow
  34. – 30 – Mason
  35. – 31 – Willow
  36. – 32 – Mason
  37. – 33 – Willow
  38. – 34 – Mason
  39. Acknowledgments
  40. More from the Author
  41. About the Author
  42. ALSO BY JENNA EVANS WELCH

– 24 – Mason

Please don’t bail on me, please don’t bail on me, please don’t bail on me.

“Mason, do you think we should start without her?” Emma asks in a low voice. The tour group has been waiting for nearly ten minutes and is starting to mutiny, which is only making my steadily rising anxiety worse. She’s going to show up, isn’t she?

“It’s nine minutes past seven,” a woman in a Red Sox cap says in a decidedly uncheerful tone.

“One more minute, please. We are missing a guest,” Emma says in a voice that says I realize you’re paying me, so I’m being polite, but also I am in charge and you will do what I say. I guess this is where she learned how to take charge in the many situations I’ve seen her in—handling groups of unruly tourists on the mean streets of Salem. If I wasn’t so stressed out, I’d be impressed.

Willow is coming, right? I double-check the text she sent me while I was at the beach. I could use your help with something. Mind if we talk about it after the tour?

Yes, and absolutely, and also, YES. But what could she possibly use my help with? The thought sends electricity zipping through my body. Whatever it is, I’m in.

I’d shown excellent restraint by responding with a very relaxed-sounding No problem. I’d even managed to send it all in one message. But now I’m wondering if she changed her mind. What if she had something come up? Should I text her? And if I start texting her, will I snowball into sending her ninety texts?

Baby steps. Navigating myself around Willow is weirdly difficult.

“Can we give it another few minutes?” I stand on the balls of my feet, scanning the crowds on Essex Street, as though an extra few inches of height will make Willow magically appear.

“Absolutely,” Emma says. Red Sox Hat scowls at this, but Emma ignores her. And yes, it’s sort of nice to be stood up for.

Right then, I see a flash of red, and then there’s Willow sprinting toward us, her ever-present journal tucked under her arm. I’m so relieved, I could melt into the brick road.

“She’s here!” I want to punch my fist into the sky, but that seems dramatic, so I settle for bouncing on my toes.

“About time,” Red Sox Hat grumbles.