Neither of my maids had precisely lost what I was looking for, but I thought the spell might do. That is, if earth magic worked on them at all. They were half-human, but would that be enough? Never hurts to try, I thought to myself.

Firstly, I tracked down paper, pen, and ink. After giving it a bit of thought, I wrote clove oil on the paper and then rolled it up. Next, I needed something belonging to one of the girls. I looked myself up and down. Élise had lowered the neckline on the dress I was wearing – that meant the work was hers. I hoped that counted. Carefully, I pulled loose the piece of thread and wrapped it around the bit of paper, followed by a twist of rosemary. “Water,” I mumbled, finding a basin and filling it to the brim. From what Martin had told me about human magic, I understood that a witch drew power from the four elements, in this case water, but I didn’t understand why. Nor did I know why certain herbs were used in certain spells, but not others. Her grimoire was like a recipe book that told me how to perform certain spells, but I had no idea how or why they worked. And I didn’t have time to figure it out now.

Looking over my shoulder, I checked to make sure Victoria hadn’t moved from the spot where I left her. But my friend was slumped in a chair, chin resting on her chest. I could faintly hear the sound of her snores.

Speaking in a quiet but firm voice, I recited the strange incantation, substituting Élise’s name and clove oil in the appropriate spots. Eleven times, I repeated the phrase. On the twelfth time, I threw the rosemary-wrapped package into the basin. On the thirteenth repetition, I touched my finger to the water. The sound of waves roared loudly in my ears, and the package began to rotate around the basin. Faster and faster it spun, and with each turn, I felt magic flood up into me. I pulled my hand from the water and the contents stilled. Nothing. I could see nothing. Either the spell hadn’t worked because Élise wasn’t completely human, or she had no memory of what I’d asked for. Or maybe the thread I’d included didn’t count as hers. There were so many factors, and I had no way of knowing which one had interfered.

Sighing, I reached for the basin, but pulled back when an image appeared in the water. It wasn’t my reflection. I watched wide-eyed as a pair of hands folded linens and stacked them on shelves. The same hands then picked up a dark bottle and carefully tucked it in next to the folded sheets. This was a memory. This was Élise’s memory.

Clapping my hands together, I crowed with delight.

“What’s going on?” Victoria shouted, the chair she’d been sitting on clattering to the ground.

Snatching the water-soaked package out of the basin, I shoved it in my pocket and spun around. “Nothing,” I said, wishing for a moment I could be truthful to my friend. “I just remembered where to look. In the laundry room.”