"I'm coming," I said, trying to remain calm even though it was a struggle. I would hate to get my hopes up only to have them dashed again, but hope was nudging me rather hard at the moment. Whoever had swept Stacy off her feet might soon have my eternal gratitude for appearing at the right time and right place.
Stacy told me her address and I jotted it down on a piece of paper.
"And listen, Sarah," she said, and then paused.
"What?" I prompted.
"I'm sorry. For everything. The past is over and the future is bright. For both of us."
I could hear that she was smiling.
After telling her that we'd be there in a half an hour, I hung up.
"She's going to break the curse," I said quietly.
George let out a very long sigh of relief. "When do we leave?"
"Right now," Thierry said firmly. "The sooner this is over the better."
I honestly couldn't have agreed more.
I filled a Thermos just in case something went wrong on the way over to Stacy's house. I don't think I need to go into detail about what was inside.
I held on to my optimism as best I could. That sliver of hope that told me that even when things were darkest in my life, they always seemed to turn out okay in the end. The optimism had been growing by the minute since Stacy's phone call. Besides, I had very good backup: George, currently the keeper of the stun gun, a role he was taking very seriously; Thierry, the strong, silent type with the grim but determined expression; and
Claire, our resident expert in crazy-ass witches.
Oh, and her little dog, too.
The four and a half of us made like The Wizard of Oz and went off to see the repentant wicked witch of the west end of the city.
I was surprised to see that Stacy lived in Rosedale, the ritziest neighborhood of Toronto and home to some of its rich and famous citizens. The area was surrounded by winding streets, parkland, and ravines that effectively concealed the fact that it was only a short drive to downtown. I seriously would have killed to live there. Luckily though, at the moment, I was speaking figuratively.
I wondered if Stacy had killed to live there. Or used her magic somehow. Actually, I was willing to bet that she had.
Thierry parked down the street, and we got out and cautiously approached the beautiful home. The lights were off, which was unexpected, considering that she was expecting us, after all.
"I'm not feeling any warding spells," Claire said. "She's not trying to keep us out."
Thierry led the way to the front door. His determination was extremely reassuring. If
Stacy reneged on her promise to break the curse, I had full faith in his ability to be… convincing.
However, I also had full faith in Stacy's ability to possibly turn him into a strong but silent toad. Or a moody, guilt-ridden armchair.
"Be careful," I warned him.
"I'll do my best," he said.
Stacy was a powerful witch. Check. She'd cursed me with a really crappy curse. Check.
She also didn't seem to care if those who'd done her wrong ended up dead in a ditch somewhere. Also check.
But she wasn't completely evil, was she? I mean, she'd even apologized to me. If she was willing to reverse things before it was too late, that had to count for something. I wondered just who this mystery man who'd swept her off her feet was. Did he know she was a witch? Would she turn him into a furry creature if he did her wrong, like Claire had done to Reggie? More likely Stacy would do something much worse. I felt sorry for this guy, whoever he was.
I still felt extremely uneasy about this whole situation. I didn't want anything bad to happen. I didn't want to put Thierry's or anyone's life in peril for helping me. Was that what I was doing?
No, I assured myself. It's fine. This all will be fine.
If that was so, then why were the damn lights out?
Thierry rang the doorbell and we waited. My mouth felt dry and my heart let out a plaintive beat before going silent again. George whistled nervously under his breath. He'd brought his lock-picking kit with him again just in case of emergency.
After a couple of silent, beat-free minutes went by, Thierry knocked on the door. I literally forgot to breathe for two minutes. He glanced at me, his brow lowered into a frown, then he turned the handle of the door and pushed it open to find that it wasn't locked.
The interior of the house was dark. I swallowed hard.
Thierry met my gaze. "Stay behind me."
He slipped into the darkness inside and I followed. As soon as I passed over the threshold
I frowned.
"Hold on," I said quietly. "How did I just do that? I thought I couldn't enter private homes without an invitation anymore? I figured that Haven and places like that were off the list because they were open to the general public, but this is an actual house."
Claire shrugged. "A witch's home must be different."
I frowned. "Maybe."
Where was Stacy? Had she given me the wrong address? I didn't like this. My skin had been crawling with bad vibes ever since being at the reunion and they'd just intensified.
"Hello?" I called out. "Anybody home?"
"I'm still not sensing anything," Claire said.
"What do you think you should be sensing?"
"A paranormal presence. Some sort of malevolent magic. It leaves an impression in a house like a stinky-cheese smell."
"Maybe she went to the convenience store for something," George suggested.
She shook her head. "I'd still sense her magic here."
"She's out," I said firmly. "That's all there is to it. She'll be back. This is the address she gave me, I'm sure of it."
"Then we shall wait for her to return," Thierry said, and there was an underlying darkness in his words. His patience had worn out with this situation. Maybe not with me, specifically—at least I hoped not—but with the curse itself and the witch who'd caused it.