Being a bitch was one thing. Actually misusing the Craft to force someone to fall in love with her—that was something else altogether. That was serious. That was bad. Maybe it wasn’t as awful as murder, but Cecily had been brought up to believe that subverting someone’s will was more or less in the same general category.
That would explain why Kathleen had skipped the afternoon coven meeting too—the enchantment on Scott would’ve been a powerful one, so much so that traces of it might have lingered and affected the coven’s work. Kathleen’s cover would have been blown, and all the other witches would’ve known what a horrible thing she’d done.
The thought of Kathleen publicly shamed gave Cecily a little thrill of satisfaction, and almost instantly she felt ashamed.
If you really thought she’d done it, you wouldn’t be happy, Cecily told herself. You’d be horrified, and worried about Scott. But you don’t really think Kathleen’s that wicked. You just enjoy thinking that she could be, because it’s easier than thinking that Scott might actually be in love with her for real. Which he obviously is. So get over it.
But the idea wouldn’t quite go away.
Finally, Cecily decided that she’d prove to herself how ridiculous her theory was. Quickly she pulled her Craft supplies from beneath the bed and grabbed a small plastic spray bottle from her luggage. On hot days at the beach she filled the bottle with water so she could cool down while remaining in the sun; obviously, she wouldn’t be needing it for that anytime soon.
A simple solution would be best. Something she didn’t have to cook up. Thinking fast, Cecily realized that a couple of the elixirs from this morning might do the trick if she poured them together in the right proportions. It was difficult without a measuring cup, but she managed to get it close.
First she tested the solution, tiptoeing into Theo’s room. Cecily determinedly didn’t look at Scott’s things on the bottom bunk; instead, she took the Game Boy she’d used for the spyglass spell. After glancing down the hall to make sure that nobody was watching, she squirted the bottle over the Game Boy.
The mist of liquid turned briefly brilliant pink—proving the Game Boy had been the subject of a spell or enchantment in the recent past.
Cecily nodded, satisfied. If nothing else, at least she’d learned how to work up a spell-detection elixir on short notice.
Are you actually going to spray this on Scott? she asked herself. What are you going to do when nothing happens? Remember, he’ll also think you’re a complete weirdo who goes around stalking guys with squirt bottles of pink crap.
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