Page 2 of A Witchy Spell Ride
Like a storm in the distance.
Like something was coming.
I stand and pour more coffee into my mug. “You think she does house cleansings?”
“Oh, honey,” she says, sliding off the couch with the grace of a cat in a spin cycle, “she’ll do more than that. She’ll know things.”
And that’s what scares me.
Because deep down… I did too.
Something wasn’t right.
I just didn’t know how to explain it.
The psychic’s place doesn’t look like much. A faded green awning, chipped doorbell, the sign on the window saysPalm Readings & Herbal Tonicsbut the vibe is more haunted antique shop than crystal store.
Inside, it smells like rosewater, dust, and something sharp, like ozone after lightening.
The woman who greets us couldn’t be older than forty. She has a braid down to her waist, eyes the color of storm clouds, and nails painted black with tiny white crescent moons. She doesn’t ask what we are there for, just looks at me and smiles.
“You brought her,” she says to Briar. My stomach tightens.
“I said she needed it,” my friend replies, like they were old acquaintances. “Didn’t tell her anything, swear.”
“Doesn’t matter.” The woman nods toward the back room. “Come.”
We follow her past a velvet curtain and into a cramped room lined with candles, mirrors, and a low round table. She gestures for me to sit. I do because I can’t seem to not. She doesn’t touch the cards, doesn’t ask for my birthday or birth time or blood type. Just stares at me for a long, long time, then she says:
“There’s someone watching you.”My heart jolted.
“Close,” she adds. “But not close enough.”I try to keep my face blank.
She leans in slightly. “You already know, don’t you?”I swallow. “Know what?”
“That someone isn’t who they say they are.”I blink.
The psychic smiles. “You’ll take a ride soon. One that’ll mean more than you expect. One that’ll change everything.”Beside me, Briar leans in, fascinated.
The woman holds my gaze. “But be careful. There is love in your path… and danger. One may wear the face of the other.”
I exhale. “Are you saying love is dangerous?”
She just smiles. “Or that danger looks like love?”Still, she smiles.
“I don’t do riddles,” I mutter.
“You will,” she says. “After the spell.”
Before I can open my mouth to protest, she reaches into a pouch, pulls out a tiny charm wrapped in red thread, and places it in my palm.
“Keep this close. It’s done.”
“What’s done?”
“The spell.”
Briars jaw drops. “You actually, did it?”
