Don't Hex with Texas (Page 95)
Owen slumped in his seat, and my necklace went still. I glanced over at him, and he’d gone a grayish shade of pale. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“I will be. It’s draining to sustain that kind of magic around here, even worse than I realized. It’s almost like there’s nothing there at all right now. I can recharge a bit before tonight, and I don’t think we’ll have to worry too much about all our would-be wizards having too much force. If they haven’t learned good control, they’ll be burned out with one or two spells. In fact, the ones who were using magic while following us will probably be useless tonight.”
The next time I glanced over at him, he was sound asleep, his head resting on the window. I tried to be careful about hitting bumps or taking turns too fast the rest of the way home.
I had to wake him up when I parked behind our house. He already looked a little better, but he was still pale. Mom noticed that the second he set foot in the kitchen. “Are you okay?” she asked, taking him by the arm.
“I think his allergies must be acting up,” I said. Fortunately, Mom didn’t question me.
“I’ll make you some soup,” she said. “I may even have some homemade chicken soup from last winter in the freezer. It won’t take too long to heat it up. You just sit right down. Katie, you get him some juice.”
She went off to dig around in the deep freeze in the laundry room, and I poured Owen a tall glass of orange juice. I figured he needed the sugar as much as he needed the vitamins. I noticed Granny’s bottle of potion hidden in the back of the refrigerator, and I added a splash or two of that to the juice.
The earlier dose she must have given him hadn’t killed him yet, and there was always the chance it might help. Soon, he was being stuffed with soup, cheese and crackers, fruit salad, and cake for dessert. By the time he insisted he couldn’t eat another bite, he looked much better. He still appeared tired, but his color was healthier. Mom didn’t argue with him at all when he said he wanted to lie down for a while.
I could have used a nap myself, but I hadn’t drained myself of power and I was afraid to have no one on the lookout when we had gangs of rogue wizards out hunting for Owen. I shocked Mom by volunteering to do the dishes after lunch. It wasn’t because I was feeling particularly helpful, but rather because the kitchen window gave me a good view of the driveway.
“He’s fine. I just don’t think he’s sleeping well in a strange place, and then with the allergies on top of that it’s leaving him a little rundown. Not to mention he was overdue for a vacation, so he has a lot of rest to catch up on.”
“Well, I hate for him to get here, and then spend the whole time sick.”
“He hasn’t. He’s just been a little tired a couple of times. You can quit worrying about him.”
“Goodness knows, I have enough to worry about. Everyone’s acting so strange lately, even you. But I suppose love makes you act funny, doesn’t it?” she asked with a wink. “Speaking of which, I really think you ought to put in more effort. He’s a nice boy, and very good-looking. Maybe you should wear more lipstick and do your face up a bit. I have some samples.” When she wasn’t busy meddling in everyone else’s business and running the town through committees, she sold makeup through home parties and personal visits and never stopped trying to do makeovers on me.
“Mom, I’m fine the way I am. He likes the natural look. He’s said he doesn’t like women wearing a lot of makeup.” Well, I was sure he would, if someone asked him.
“Just a little maybe? The spring collection had some nice, natural-looking colors.”
“Mom!” I knew my voice had taken on an annoying teenage whine, so I tried again, this time sounding more like an adult, I hoped. “It’s not me. Really. I think it might scare him if I suddenly looked like a Miss America contestant.”
“Well, suit yourself. But you know, you haven’t had much success before, so it could be time to change your ways.” I couldn’t respond to that without getting angry, so I chose to ignore it. She was still muttering under her breath as she went back to clearing off the kitchen table. The ring of the telephone interrupted her muttering. She answered, then handed me the phone. “It’s Dean. He wants to talk to you. There must be something going on at the store.”