Page 14 of The Bairwick Witches
“I’m sorry to break this to you. The magic is already in you; you were born with it. You want to unlock it? Then utilize what’s around you, as witches have done for millennia.
“Millions of books have been published about witchcraft over the centuries, but I’m guessing because they had some cutesy cover and were sitting in a brightly lit Barnes & Noble, and not bound in human flesh with a roving eyeball on it, you felt they were not relevant to our craft?
Issac shrugged, ‘I mean… yeah.”
“This is how our craft is taught. Generation to generation, handing knowledge down, adding to it, passing it on either orally or in writing. And it’s how we find and light the spark in those who didn’t even know they havewitchin them. This is how we find our way.” Schuyler feared he’d lectured, that he’d rambled.
Issac’s face still held a quizzical look that could not be read; was he annoyed or invested? Did he care, or was he being kind to a-gulp-‘old man’?Oh my Goddess, have I become Beau?
“You’re very passionate about this.”
Schuyler still couldn’t nail down Issac’s tone. The words felt kind, but they came across flat, almost placating. Sky felt a ding against him; if there’d been a chance, it was probably lost now. “Well, yes, I am. I’m one of those witches.”
“You’ve written a book about witchcraft?” Issac appeared genuinely interested.
Schuyler nodded, “Yes. Eleven of them. Though it’s under my pen name, Angelique Spicer.”
“Shut up. Those books were in the stash my mom was hiding. You don’t look like the old lady from the cover.”
“I am.” Schuyler waved his fingers rhythmically, the pinky waving out, then curling back in, the other fingers following suit. He raised his arm, the flowing fingers swishing up across his face, leaving a new one once they passed. Not Schuyler, but Angelique. A wrinkled but expressive face, warm dark eyes, her white hair tied up in a bun, two pens stuck in it.Shesmiled in a loving, grandmotherly way at Issac before Schuyler swung his hand back down, ending the Glamour.
He smirked seeing how impressed Issac appeared, “Wow, how’d you?”
“And that’s why you need to pick up a book, dude.”
“Why the fake name, the whole old lady story?” He looked at his watch, the digital display alerting him of an event.
“When I wrote the first one,Easy Spells for Easy Quells,no one was interested in learning witchcraft from a guy in his twenties. Readers needed someone they felt they could trust to teach them. Enter Angelique, the white witch of quiet living and simple life—the grandmother, who, though reclusive, wanted to share her love of the craft.
Eleven books later, some of those with multiple reprintings, Schuyler had held down a small corner of the industry during his reign, but no more books were coming. “That was all once upon a time though, there’s no more books coming.”
“Why not?”
Schuyler hesitated, even if it seemed easier to admit this particular failure to a handsome stranger he was certain he’d struck out with. “The last three didn’t sell as well as my publisher would have liked. They used the excuse of it being the age of the online witch and moving on, but they’d been waiting for my contract to be up.”
His watch alerted him again. “That sucks and I don’t want to seem insincere,”—though Schuyler felt he was—“I need to catch the last ferry before it leaves. This town shuts down so early, so I’m sorry to cut this short.” Issac made his way to the door.
Say something clever, say something flirty.
“If you’re coming back tomorrow, stop by; you can use my library card.”
Nailed it.
Sky groaned in his head as Issac looked back, confused, but smiled anyway.
“Ourlibrary will have something that can help you figure out those ingredients. If you want, of course.” Schuyler was unsure why he even offered, but a chance, even slim, to see Issac again was worth taking a shot.
“Thanks, Schuyler.” Issac pushed the door open and almost stepped fully outside when he stopped and popped back in. “For the record,Iwould have bought a spellbook with your face on it.” He was out the door and down the street before Schuyler could respond.
Chapter Six
“I lectured him!” Schuyler, frantic, paced the circular conversation pit in the sunroom, frazzled and angry at himself after replaying his and Issac’s convo on the walk home. “I basically told him he’s a dumbass for not even attempting to read a book.” Schuyler planted his face in his palms. “Why can I never be smooth? I used to be. Once upon a time, I’d have sweet-talked that dude and been slamming him back in my room. Not offering him a library card.”
Beau and Marshall nodded and listened contentedly as they remained in the workspace preparing a new batch of potency gel for the shop. “Well,” Marshall exclaimed with a scoff, “it’s not a bad lecture to give, especially to a baby witch. They need to read. And, personally, I think the library card was smooth.”
“Oh, that’s very-very true, nothing worse than ignorant witches,” Beau agreed, smoothing the still-cooling gel he’d ladled from the cauldron into their respective containers. “Life is too short for ignorant bitches, period.”
“Who cares? He was stunning. He could have been ignorant all over my dick. He seemed nice, well, not really, kinda bitchy—a-lot bitchy. I was a little nervous, but then, he was nice and… I lectured him.
