Kiss and Spell

“You know, the operative word there is ‘seem.’ How do we know they didn’t turn him—or that he wasn’t a mole all along?”



“Have you always been this suspicious?”



“They’re sending guards around to redo the spell on everyone. I don’t think I’m overreacting.”



“No, I trust him.”



“What about someone who might have heard the information?”



“There weren’t many of us.”



“Or maybe they let him go, since it doesn’t sound like he learned anything we can use.”



Both of us were quiet for a while, and then I said, “I think we should go back out there.”



“Are you crazy?” His first word came out as something of a shriek before he remembered where he was and modulated his voice.



“If they’re re-enchanting everyone, they’re probably working off a list, and they’ll track us down. But the spell will probably be weak on me because my magic levels are really low, and I know a shield spell that might deflect enough to keep me sane without it being obvious to them that their spell hasn’t worked. I can revive you again once they’re gone, and then we can go back to the way things were, with them thinking we’re enchanted and us being free. We’ll have to start over with waking people up, but as long as one of us stays free, that’s a minor setback.”



It took him a while to answer, and I could practically hear the gears moving as he thought about it. At last, he said, “Well, I guess it beats hiding in here forever.”



Hoping I knew what I was doing, I collected an armful of books, secured my shield spell that would work like magical immunity, then headed into the store. Earl came behind me with his own load of books. “Now, we’d better get these shelved,” I said loud enough to be overheard. Not that there was anyone to overhear. There weren’t any gray guys lurking around the stockroom, so they must not have noticed our escape.



As we rounded the corner into the science fiction section, we nearly ran into a gray guy. It took me a split second to remember that I wasn’t supposed to see him, and I forced myself to keep going without wincing at the imminent collision. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Earl go still, and I felt my shields being surrounded by magic, so I, too, froze. A little of the magic made it through to tingle my skin, since my shields were awfully flimsy, but I didn’t feel the magic working on me.



While I kept my eyes unfocused, I focused my mind on who I was and where I was. The tingle stopped a moment later, and the gray guy moved on. When I saw Earl resume walking, I joined him.



I still knew exactly who I was, much to my relief. I wasn’t so sure about Earl, but there were people around, so I didn’t dare ask him any questions. Besides, I thought it would be safer to wait until the gray guys were sure their mission had been accomplished. As long as I knew who I was, I could start the ball rolling again.



Earl and I went to work on shelving those books we’d brought from the stockroom. He didn’t say much to me, but I couldn’t tell if he was being discreet or if he was back to thinking he was just another bookstore employee. It seemed like forever before the gray guys left the store.



“Okay, I think I’ve got it under control,” Earl said. “You can get back to the coffee shop. Thanks for the help.”



I studied him, looking for clues of self-awareness. There certainly wasn’t any “wink-wink, know what I mean?” on his face. They had him, I was pretty sure. “Just one more thing,” I said. “Do you have that receipt I gave you? I thought I saw you put it in your pocket.” I hoped Earl had followed directions and stashed potentially triggering memories where he was sure to find them.



“Receipt? I don’t remember a receipt.”



“Could you please check, just in case? I could swear I gave it to you.” When he just frowned at me suspiciously, I took another approach and gave a nervous laugh. “At least, I hope I gave it to you. You’re my last chance of finding it. Could you just check your pockets, please?” I gave him my best pleading look, the one that usually got my dad to cave and give me what I wanted.



With a sigh of exaggerated put-upon patience, he stuck his hands in his pockets, then his eyebrows rose when he apparently found something. He pulled his right hand out of his pocket with a piece of paper in it. “Huh, I guess this might be it,” he said. He unfolded it to check, then said, “No, I don’t think so. This is my handwriting.” A moment later, he swayed, and I jumped to steady him. He looked at me, blinking, then said, “Whoa, they really got me, huh?”