Page 4 of Secrets & Spells
“Obviously. That ancient crone of a head teacher said I wasn’t doing Eve any favours raising her to expect to be treated the same as other witches.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep, so I told her she wasn’t doing those mean little brats any favours teaching them they can get away with treating someone like shit because of something beyond their control.”
I smirk. “Bet that went down well.”
“So well.” Gwyn rolls her eyes. “Still, I managed to talk her down from keeping Eve after school to lunchtime detention instead. You still good to help her revise later?”
“Absolutely,” I assure her. “Have you spoken to her about what happened?”
“Not yet. Thought I’d save that joy for later when I can have a glass of wine right after.”
“Want me to talk to her?”
“Could you?” She asks hopefully. “I’m starting to feel like a broken record at this point. Maybe it’ll sink in better coming from you.”
“You know she loves you, right? Eve’s a good kid, she’s just being a teenager—questioning authority and rebelling a little is part of the job description.”
“Maybe but I don’t think we were ever this exhausting.”
I snort. “Liar. I might have been too young to remember your teen years, but Mum filled me in on some of your escapades, and you know I got into some mischief too.”
She heaves a sigh. “Be honest, have I turned into our mother?”
“No.” I squeeze her arm. “Your cooking will never be as good as hers.”
Gwyn swats me playfully as I dance away laughing. “You staying in the office or going home?”
“Home. I have a new custom project and you know I lose track of time when I’m working—this way I’ll already be there when Eve stops by.”
Itching to get home and sketch out ideas for Dove’s chef’s coat, I quickly fill Gwyn in on where I’ve got to with the onlineorders then grab my black leather jacket from the back office and head out.
Pale-grey sky blankets the town for as far as the eye can see, and the promise of autumn hangs in the air. Soon the leaves will morph from green to gold, and the nights will reach into the once-sunny afternoons. My chunky boots clomp against the pavement with every step I take towards home, and a light breeze sends the hem of my burnt-orange skirt fluttering around my knees. In a couple of weeks I’ll need to get out my thicker pairs of tights—the thought sends a thrill through me. Gwyn’s always loved the summer, but, to me, the months of too much heat and not enough rain are simply something to endure until the crisp days of autumn arrive.
The walk home isn’t long but like always it’s littered with familiar faces. There are no strangers in Crystal Lake, only familiar faces you’ve not had a conversation with yet. It’s one of many things I love about this town. It’s big enough that we don’t all know each other, but small enough that it’s easy to spot newcomers.
After battling with my lopsided front gate for a minute, I pick my way up my garden path and head inside my cottage. The thatched roof is a pain in the arse, but there’s no denying it gives the place character. Since I opened the shop this morning I’m home well before dinner, leaving plenty of time to work on some designs for Dove. After leaving my boots and jacket on the rack just inside the front door, I grab a glass of water from the kitchen, then pad across the floorboards to settle on my sofa. Tugging my sketchpad and pencils out of my handbag, I settle back against the plump couch cushions and get to work. Despite my enthusiasm for the new project, it’s not long before my eyelids begin to droop and I lose the battle to stay focused. The last thing tickling at the edges of my awareness is the thud of my sketchpad as it slides from my hand to meet the floor.
It’s been a long time since I struggled to differentiate between dreams and visions that come to me while I sleep. Yet as I watch a tall blonde man in an office gather items from his desk into a cardboard box, I struggle to work out if what I’m seeing is real. Someone leaving an office job isn’t usually the kind of thing my magic would bother showing me, but I can’t think why I’d dream about an office either—I’ve never worked in one and the beige walls and tightly grouped desks in this one tell me I wouldn’t want to. Then I spot the large raven perched on an expensive-looking desk, watching the blonde man with its beady eyes. A vision then. But why does this one feel different to the others?
The scene swirls and changes. Suddenly I’m in a cramped flat that’s in need of a few repairs. The same man sits on a navy sofa, frowning while he reads a newspaper. I take in his long, leanly muscled form, fair skin that glows with a slight tan, and rumpled golden hair. He’s handsome, sure, but there’s something more to him. But the harder I look, the less Isee. It’s frustrating to say the least. Then he turns the page of his paper and a triumphant smile transforms his face in a way that makes my heart skip a beat. This man, whoever he is, is important. Butwhy? A glint of gold draws my attention to his neck. If I could just see past the neckline of his t-shirt?—
Insistent knocking tears me out of the vision, the change so abrupt it takes a few confused blinks before the sage green walls of my living room come into focus. And it was a vision, I’m sure of that now. A normal dream wouldn’t leave me disoriented and with the beginnings of a headache.
“Aunt Selene, are you home?” Shit. If Eve’s here, that means it’s nearly four o’clock already. I promised I’d help her prepare for a test she’s got coming up soon. My cheeks puff out with the force of my tired sigh. Her knocking continues. Rubbing at my temples, I carefully hoist myself to my feet and shuffle towards the front door to let Eve inside.
“Finally.” She moves to step inside, but I block the doorway with an outstretched arm.
If it weren’t for my full fringe my raised brows would be more obvious but, judging by the way Eve’s hazel eyes have widened, I’d say the rest of my face is doing a good enough job at making it clear I’m unimpressed with her attitude. “You want to try that again?”
“Sorry.” She grimaces. “It’s been a day and I’m really nervous about the test next week. Thanks for agreeing to help me revise.”
“I heard.” I lower my arm. “Come in, I’ll put the kettle on.”
Eve follows me inside and starts laying out her books on the kitchen table while I go through the familiar motions of preparing a pot of tea, all the while wondering who the man in my vision is and when I’ll meet him. No matter how mundane this vision seems on the surface, my magic never shows me anything truly insignificant. This man is important, but it looks like I’ll have to wait to find out why.
Chapter 4
