Talis had a problem. They’d copied the spell incorrectly, in a fury, after seeing photos of their ex with a new date in “their” spot. Adelite was supposed to have experienced a night of terrible dreams leading to a remorseful morning after. Instead, he just hadn’t woken up.

The magic traces would be there for anyone to follow back to Talis once the coma was deemed supernatural. And now the remorse their ex was supposed to suffer lived inside their chest. They felt strangely hollow otherwise.

I need your help, they’d texted their friend Robin. She wasn’t a magic user, but she lived with the coven headed by her older sibling. Talis took a deep breath before knocking on their door. Robin answered, pulling Talis into a hug. “What’s up?” she asked.

“I screwed up a spell,” Talis muttered, looking around for Robin’s housemates while a pair of corgis took it upon themselves to cover Talis’s black jeans in hair.

“Oh, so you’re not really here for me.” Robin sighed and crossed her arms, feigning hurt.

“I’m always here for you. But I need help from Ursul.”

Robin took Talis into the living room and sat them down. It was evening—it had taken several hours to verify the outcome of their hex on Adelite. Eventually his roommate had alerted social media channels, and between that and spell whispers, there was a full-on candlelight vigil planned outside the hospital (since they didn’t allow that many people in a room). After so many of Talis’s friends had soothed them and nodded along at their descriptions of Adelite’s toxicity, it rankled that in his bewitched sleep he’d become a martyr.

“Did you do the thing I told you not to do?” Robin asked, placing a cup of hot tea in front of Talis.

Talis looked away with a frown. “Yes.” They struggled not to cry. “It’s been two weeks and he’s already ‘in love’ with someone new.”

“Siiiib!” Robin hollered. “Talis is here because they fucked up and they need your help!”

Talis felt their pale cheeks reddening and buried their face in their hands.

“Hey, Tally.” Ursul whistled for the corgis to stop fighting over sniffing Talis’s socks and walked into the room, sweeping a hand through indigo hair. They stood head and shoulders taller than Talis.

“Hey,” Talis whined through their hands.

“So, what’s up?”

Talis took a deep breath and dropped their hands. “I did a hex wrong, and my ex is . . . in a coma.”

Ursul tapped their cheek and nodded. “Yep, that’s a fuckup, all right.” They projected their voice toward the kitchen. “Sweetie! I need your help!”

“Just a moment!” Eventually Rosa appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron.

“So, what did you do?” Ursul asked.

Talis pulled out their diary, where they’d hastily scribbled the hex between rants about Adelite’s self-centeredness and all the ways they’d been hurt.

“Wow,” Rosa said. “It’s like you did exactly what you’re not supposed to do.” She looked Talis full-on and began counting off on her fingers: “Casting a spell in the heat of emotion; casting a spell about or on a lover; not double-checking the spell.”

Talis stared at the floor between their shoes. “I know.”

“The good news is, we can fix this . . . and based on what I’ve heard through the grapevine”—she gestured at the room, which included Robin and Ursul—“Adelite kind of deserves it.”

Robin stifled a laugh.

“I said kind of!”

“So, what do we do now?” Talis asked. “Is this a whole-coven thing?”

Rosa shared a glance with Ursul. Their other two housemates had different skills that all rounded out nicely when the four worked together.

Rosa opened her mouth, but Ursul put a hand on her shoulder and turned to Talis. “This is a you thing,” they said. “We’ll help you find a counter spell, and you’re welcome to anything in our pantry—”

“But you have to cast it,” Rosa finished. “And it won’t be an easy one.” The couple nodded.

Talis felt sweat under their arms at the thought of handling such big magic, but it was only fitting. They’d always cleaned up Adelite’s messes, and now they had to take responsibility for their own.

“Okay.” They got to their feet. “Where do I start?”

“Follow me.” Ursul led them upstairs to the room they shared with Rosa. There was an alcove with bookshelves covered in manga, science fiction, and spell books. Talis sat on a small futon couch while Ursul pulled out a few books. They handed half of the pile to Talis. A spider skittered across Talis’s wrist, and they gently shook it off.

“Ancient tomes, huh?” they muttered.

“Mostly garage sale finds. But that’s where you get the good stuff.” Ursul planted themself on the futon opposite Talis and began paging through their set of books. “Remind me how long you’ve been practicing?” they asked.

Talis blushed. “About three years now.” They’d picked up the craft with a different ex, a top-notch hedge witch who both impressed and terrified them with her knowledge of poisonous plants and untraceable spells. Though she’d never once hexed anyone; she’d said never to use a hex unless the victim was truly deserving of a bad end. Perhaps Talis hadn’t learned as much from her as they thought they had.

“Do you mostly practice alone?”

Talis paged past incantations for finding love and success, amulets for protection, minor glamours and simple charms. They’d taught Adelite a few basic spells, especially to help him go unnoticed by transphobes and cops, but he wasn’t much for keeping up the practice on his own. “Mostly alone, yeah. Here and there with friends.”

“Have you considered joining a coven?” Ursul set aside one of their volumes and picked up another.

“I guess. It’s just everyone’s is already full, or I’m looking at the leftovers . . .” Talis held a page up with a wakefulness spell on it, but Ursul shook their head.

“You could join ours. Five is a nice number for a coven.”

“You’d have me?” Talis hugged their arms for a moment. “Even after something like this?”

“Everyone would have to say yes,” Ursul shrugged. “We could always do a trial period if folks are mostly down but have concerns.”

“Thank you. That’s really generous . . .”

Ursul tousled Talis’s hair like they were a kid. “I mean, yeah we’d be doing you a favor, but we’d also be protecting the community of your exes.”

Talis blushed even more deeply and gently batted Ursul’s hand away with an open book. “Ooh, look!” They set the spread down where they could both see it.

A Revival Spell was set across the page heading. “‘This can be used for recovery from wounds and other illnesses, in dilute form as a curative tea, or as a counter spell on certain hex-induced conditions,’” Talis read.

Ursul gestured for the book and skimmed down the page. “‘Can be combined with elements from Petunia’s Counter-All for specific hexes.’ Oh, I have that one!” They dug around and brought out a slim volume that looked more like a zine than a spell book. “Let’s see. ‘Counter sleep’—no, we don’t have any of their eyelashes . . . ‘Counter love.’ Ha . . . Here we go!” They pointed out an entry.

“‘Counter retaliation.’” Talis put their hands over their face again. “I’m a monster.”

“Well, you could definitely use a refresher on Witching Ethics.”

Talis blinked tears away. “Thank you for being so kind to me. I really don’t deserve it.”

Ursul pulled them into a hug. “Friends help friends, eh? You’re going to have to make reparations, but let the community handle that and not the ‘justice system’.”

Talis nodded. “Okay.”

“Now let’s get you down to Rosa. She can help you pull this together.”

Rosa skimmed the ingredients from both books. “Mullein, sweet gale, rosemary, thyme, yarrow . . .” she began pulling jars from cabinets. “Talis, go get an egg from the coop—one of Sylvia’s. She’s the big Ameraucana.”

“Uh . . .”

“Sylvia is the largest black-feathered chicken!” Robin yelled from the living room.

“Okay, but how do I know which egg is hers?”

“It’ll be the biggest pale green egg!”

Talis slipped their feet into the pair of boots by the back door as they’d seen Robin do many times. Rosa was busy muttering under her breath and trying to get at something in the back of a cabinet. Talis flicked the backyard light on and went out to the coop. They’d “met” the chickens before, but aside from tossing occasional scraps to them, they’d never gone into the chicken yard.

It was dark, so all the girls were already inside the coop. Talis grimaced and opened the fence, boots sinking into the mess. They tried to remember where Robin had gotten eggs from. There was a latch at the top of the coop with a brick over it. The neighborhood had raccoons.

They lifted the brick carefully, set it aside, and lifted the hatch to peer into a huddle of feathery bodies. Talis gently ran their hand between the chickens, who made uneasy noises, but they came up empty. There were a few dark-feathered chickens. Starting with the largest, they prodded underneath the bird.

Sylvia clucked warily, but Talis’s fingers closed around an egg warmed by the hen’s body. They grasped it and checked the color. Satisfied, they replaced the brick and locked up the coop for the night.

“Got it!” they announced upon arriving back in the kitchen.

Rosa pointed to the sink, ostensibly for Talis to rinse the egg, which they noted to their dismay was smeared with chicken excrement. The counters were now covered with a collection of herbs, seeds, and a few bags of powders. Something boiled on the stove, and Rosa pulled it off the heat and strained it into a cup.

“What’s that?” Talis asked, expecting a spell component.

“My tea.” Rosa set a timer for three minutes and then picked up the egg. “This is Sylvia’s all right.” She gestured toward a bowl. “Crack it in there.”

Talis did so, and Rosa inspected the egg, pinching the membrane and examining the color of the yolk. She traced the edges of the broken shell too. “Good. It looks like we have favorable conditions for spell work tonight.”

Ursul joined them briefly in the kitchen, and then roping Robin in, the four invoked basic protection to start their spell.

“Is it okay I’m not a witch?” Robin asked.

“Not a witch, just a bitch.” Ursul patted Robin’s head affectionately.

“You got that right!” The siblings swept out again, leaving Talis with Rosa and dozens of ingredients.

Rosa took a sip of her tea and sighed. “All right then.” She instructed Talis on measurements for each ingredient, but it was Talis who added them all, whisking or folding as the spell required. There were some particularly pungent mineral powders, as well as elements that frothed and bubbled when added.

“I don’t have to drink this, do I?” Talis asked.

Rosa laughed and shook her head. “Not this time.”

When the mixture turned a soft shade of green, much like the eggshell on the counter, Rosa held up a hand. “It’s time for you to read the incantation.” She passed Talis the Counter-All pamphlet.

“How do I know this will work?”

“Don’t bring your doubts into this kitchen!”

Talis took a deep breath and gave themself a full-body shake. “Okay.” They stood over the bowl and read, feeling their gut tense over words like revenge and resuscitate. As they spoke the spell, the eggshell-green liquid became lustrous and shimmery.

Rosa pulled out a set of kitchen shears and approached Talis. “The spell needs a piece of you.”

Talis brought their hands up defensively, but Rosa shook her head. “Some hair.” Before Talis could stop her, she snipped the braided lock hanging in front of one of their ears.

“Hey—”

Rosa sprinkled the hairs in a vial and gestured to Talis to fill it with the glowing liquid. They capped the vial, and Rosa spoke a binding word over the cork. “It should travel safely,” she said.

“Travel where?”

“Did you even read the instructions?”

Talis had skimmed the pages before, but now they looked them over more closely. “‘To be applied in a circle around the victim’s body’—Oh no.” They looked up at Rosa. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Ursul came into the kitchen and nodded at the vial in Talis’s hands. “Remember what I said about community reparations?” They looked at the kitchen clock. “Looks like the vigil’s going to start in an hour. You might want to get there before there’s a crowd.”

Talis swore and began to gather their things.

“You’ll never make this kind of mistake again, right?” Rosa called from the kitchen.

Talis bobbed their head as they pulled on their boots.

“Don’t forget this—” Ursul offered them the slim Counter-All book. “There’s another incantation for when you apply the mixture.”

Talis fumbled the vial and caught it, placing it and the book gingerly in a tote bag.

“Hey, you got this,” Ursul said. “Remember, calm emotions.”

“Easy for you to say,” Talis muttered.

Robin walked up beside Talis and started pulling on a pair of shoes. “I’m coming with you.”

“So you can make fun of me in public?”

Robin crossed her arms. “Have I ever?”

“I’m sorry. I just feel like an especially terrible person tonight.”

“I know. I’m coming for emotional support, ya ding-dong. Actually, I’ll drive.”

Talis gulped and nodded. “Thank you.” They patted the corgis goodbye and followed Robin to her car.

• • • •

Talis examined the potion while Robin did her speed-demon thing.

“The original spell was supposed to just give him bad dreams, huh?” Robin asked.

Talis nodded.

“But if they were all dreams about you, wouldn’t that just make him reach out to you? Do you really want him back?”

“No—maybe—I just want him to know how much he hurt me.” The liquid in the vial swirled as Talis spoke, but the color remained unchanged.

“And then what? He knows, he reaches out to you and apologizes. And that’s it?” Robin glanced quickly at Talis, the skepticism written all over her face. “Would an apology really be enough?”

Talis shrugged. “Maybe not. But it’s like he doesn’t understand—”

“Tally, what you’re looking for is called ‘closure.’ And people rarely ever get it the way they think they need it.”

Robin downshifted to take the highway exit to the hospital. Talis put the potion back in their bag and checked their face in the mirror. By now there would be folks setting up for the vigil—they could run into anyone, including other exes or Adelite’s closest friends. “This is going to suck.”

Robin patted their arm. “Yeah. But I got you.”

When they got a block from the hospital, Robin dropped Talis off and went to find parking. Talis caught the sound of voices as they came closer to the front courtyard, and rounding the corner of the building, they saw several dozen people milling around with flowers, signs, and other gifts like stuffed tigers—Adelite’s favorite animal. At the front of the crowd was Oria, Adelite’s BFF, handing people battery-operated tealights.

Resisting the urge to wait for Robin, Talis strode toward Oria. They caught a few hushed gasps from folks in the crowd, followed by whispers. Well, gossip wouldn’t matter once they set the record straight about what they’d done. Adelite had talked at length about Oria’s work in abolition and community reparations. In some ways they were the best-worst person to run into.

Oria swept a chunk of foxy-red hair out of their face and set down the candle in their hands. “Hi, Talis,” they said uncertainly.

“Hey—are they still allowing visitors?”

Oria’s expression became guarded. “I don’t know. His sister’s up there with him right now.”

Talis gulped. They’d met most of Adelite’s family, either in-person or by video call. Adelite didn’t have a great relationship with his mother, but his sister Sara lived a few hours away and visited from time to time. Talis drew closer to Oria and lowered their voice. “Oria, I owe an explanation to the community, but first”—they lifted the edge of the vial out of their bag so Oria could see its glow—“I need to go fix the problem I created.”

“You did this?” Oria asked, their voice gaining volume.

Talis spared a glance for the crowd, most of whom were carefully watching their exchange. Robin picked that moment to cut through the gathered folks and slide in beside Talis. She squeezed their hand.

Talis took a deep breath. “I did. And I’m the only one who can make it better.”

“Can you, though?” Oria asked, their voice thickening with emotion.

Talis sighed. “I can reverse the spell tonight. I’ll have to do a lot more to make this better.” They gestured at the gathered mourners and at Oria.

“Hey, Oria,” Robin interjected, passing them a tissue. “I’ve heard about you and your work—I’m Robin, and Talis is one of my besties. I’m committed to holding them accountable in this.”

Oria wiped their eyes and sighed deeply. “I need to think about this.”

“You’ll want to talk to Adelite about it,” Talis said. “But I need to wake him up first.”

Oria nodded. “Okay. Go in. You’ll have to use his deadname to see him.” Talis winced. Oria looked at Robin. “You stay here with me while we figure out what to tell people. Talis needs to deal with Sara on their own.”

“Sure,” Robin said. She gave Talis a quick hug. “You can do this.”

“Thanks.” Talis crossed the lawn and entered the hospital.

They had to produce their own deadname ID and pretend to be family before they could get a VISITOR sticker. Apparently, they were still listed as one of Adelite’s emergency contacts—Talis felt a familiar painful squeeze in their chest at that discovery. The attendant at the desk notified them that visiting hours ended in twenty minutes. Talis nodded. It would be just enough time. They took an elevator to the ICU and wound through the halls, triple-checking that they still had both the vial and the spell book.

A familiar voice echoed down the hall as they got closer to the room, and Talis found Sara on her phone outside the door. She dropped off mid-sentence when she noticed Talis. Recovering herself, Sara said, “Mom, I’ll call you back.” She lowered the phone from her ear, clenching it in her hand. “Can I help you?”

Talis wrung their hands. “I’m sorry to interrupt your time here. I wouldn’t have intruded at all, but I have a spell with me that should bring him out of this.”

Sara shook her head, stuffing the phone into her pocket. “This isn’t the right time for games.”

“I agree with you,” Talis said. They stepped closer to Sara and the cracked open room door, where the foot of a hospital bed was visible. “I hexed Adelite. I did the spell wrong. That’s why he’s here. If the doctors have told you they can’t figure out what’s going on, that’s why.”

Sara’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her skull.

“I brought a counter spell, and I have”—they checked the hall clock—“fifteen minutes to cast it.”

Sara looked like she was considering calling Talis every bad word she could think of, or screaming for security, or decking them across the face. She settled on: “How the fuck am I supposed to trust you on this?”

Talis closed their eyes. “I didn’t want to send Adelite to the hospital. I did the worst thing I could think of doing, and it went even worse than I could have imagined. I am so sorry.” They took a deep breath, opening their eyes to face Sara’s glare. “I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m not here to ‘save the day.’ But I do have something that will wake him up, and I don’t want to put his friends and family through any more pain than I already have.” They waited, watching until Sara looked away and pinched the bridge of her nose.

She glanced at her phone. “If I were a meaner person, I’d make you come back in the morning so you had all the overnight tests to pay for too.”

Talis nodded. By now Adelite’s stay had probably racked up quite the bill. “I told Oria. I’m not planning on walking away from this like it was nothing.”

“Good. You better get in there and start working, and if he doesn’t wake up . . .”

Talis didn’t even want to consider it. They gestured for Sara to follow them inside. “You can watch the whole time. I’ll have to touch his head and his limbs, but aside from that the potion and the incantation will do the rest.”

They swept in and closed the door, but the sight of Adelite brought them to a full stop. He looked paler than usual in the white and green hospital gown, and a breathing tube covered his nose and mouth. An IV was strapped to the back of one hand, and several monitors tracked his vitals. In the sea of it all, he looked very small.

The long parts of his hair were pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, presumably by someone who’d needed them out of the way. Talis wanted to smooth his forehead and fix the flyaways, but they pulled the vial from their purse instead and instructed Sara to remain outside the circle as they worked. Thankfully, she knew enough not to record or interrupt the casting. Talis made her hold a protective charm just in case—the spell ought to be processed inside the circle, but if anything went wrong, the nearest person could suffer ill effects.

Talis moved to the head of the bed and steadied themself. Calm emotions. They uncorked the mixture and started at Adelite’s head, marking the pillow just above where he lay and placing a hand briefly on the top of his skull as they uttered the beginnings of the incantation. They moved to his left hand, sprinkling a line of spell behind them, then on to his feet, left to right. Moving counterclockwise, as the zine instructed.

Finally they came back to his head, and now there was a glowing oval trail around Adelite’s body in the bed. This time they placed both hands on his head, covering each lobe of his brain. The pamphlet had offered some lines, but improvisation was encouraged. Talis took a deep breath. “This caster worked in pain and shadow upon an unsuspecting victim. That victim is here, encircled by resuscitative magicks. With these, I dispel my work. I restore this individual to his former status. Remove the ill effects, and time will mend the rest.”

The liquid circle brightened with the final words of the spell, and its pale green shade grew lustrous and gem-toned. Talis felt heat between their hands, not just the warmth of Adelite’s head, but murky things inside, fluttering nightmares drawn to their hands by the spell. Talis was the conduit to guide the bad dreams, and the other misshapen effects, out of Adelite.

Talis’s palms burned. They couldn’t break contact until the circle dissipated, or the spell would be disrupted. Eventually the heat moved up their arms, to their shoulders, and before it could work its way to their heart and lungs, Talis screamed the final words again, the nightmares streaming out like pale ghosts and burning away in the green light.

After the last nightmare vanished, something cold shifted in Adelite, cold and sharp and ugly. Adelite’s whole body shuddered as it moved from his chest upward. Talis was faintly aware that they likely only had a moment or two before a nurse came to check on the noise. This, though, this felt familiar. Something that didn’t belong to Adelite—something that had been growing inside Talis, that they’d unwittingly set loose.

It worked its way up his neck, and only Talis’s hands on his head kept him flat on the bed, kept the ugly prickle moving to them instead of pouring out between his lips. Their palms were soothed and then frosted by the sudden change from heat to intense chill. Their fingers and wrists became numb, and the numbness moved up their body, to their own heart. It lodged itself there, deep inside, and Talis felt tears spring to their eyes. This pain to carry—it was still theirs. They couldn’t spell it away. There was no easy healing.

As the realization came to Talis, the glow of the spell began to burn away, the room’s fluorescents becoming brighter once again. The last traces of green became dust. Adelite’s head was no longer full of ill spells, and he shifted naturally beneath Talis’s hands, his eyes blinking open.

Before he could attempt to speak, Sara was at his side. Talis moved away, the cold in their heart just heaviness. They gathered their bag and left, barely missing the nurse who’d been summoned by the commotion. They might have to talk to Adelite later, but Sara deserved this time with her brother.

Talis texted Robin as they took the elevator down, their entire body leaden. Robin met them by the front doors. “Oria gave everyone the news that he’s awake,” she said. There was a festive atmosphere on the lawn, with sign waving and music.

“Are we okay to get out of here?” Talis asked.

“Yeah.”

As they skirted the edge of the crowd, Oria made eye contact with Talis and nodded to them, the gesture saying at once I see what you did and We’ll talk later. By the time they reached Robin’s car, Talis was exhausted. And hungry.

“Mexican takeout on you?” Robin asked.

“Sure. Let’s get enough for Ursul and Rosa too.”

“Great. I hope you know you’re crashing on our couch tonight.”

“Oh, I know.” Talis watched the city lights blur by erratically as Robin resumed pilot mode. Tomorrow they’d likely be coordinating with Oria and Sara and maybe even Adelite, if he wanted to talk to them, about conversations to be had, approaching their shared community—learning which spaces no longer wanted anything to do with them, for one. It was a lot on top of their glacial regret and sorrow, the unshed tears and healing that lay before them.

“You okay?” Robin asked.

“Maybe?” Talis looked at their friend. “I don’t know. I guess I will be. Eventually.”

“Yeah, you will.” Robin patted their shoulder, and Talis felt just a bit warmer.