Page 9 of Come Back To Me
The man I come face to face with when I turn around has blue eyes and dirty-blond hair. His lips curve into a soft, welcoming smile. He wasn’t here last time.
“I’m just looking,” I say. “I don’t remember you from the last time I was here. New?”
He chuckles, retracting his hand to slide his fingers into his wavy medium-length hair. “No. I don’t really work here. I’m just filling in for my mom while she runs some errands outside the shop.”
“Oh, I see. So, I’m guessing you don’t know much about these books, then?” My eyes narrow in on the one I was previously reaching for.
“I know some, but I’ve never done any spell casting. I can do card readings, though. Mom says I’m getting better at them.” He beams.
Smiling, I nod. “That’s pretty cool. Better than anything I can do. I’m new to all this.”
“In that case, you’re in the wrong aisle. These books aren’t for beginners. Especially that one.” He motions to the one I didn’t realize I was touching again until now. It’s like I’m tethered to it, my skin aching when I pull away. My feet feel like they’re being anchored to the ground when I try to step back.
“What books do you recommend I start with?”
He looks behind him. “Probably the history of witchcraft. There are beginner books for new witches too. Self-healing spells are good ones, and ones to help awaken your inner power.”
“Can you take me to them?”
“Of course. We also have chakra energy candles, healing crystals, moon water, and things for smudging.”
“What about something for a grieving widower?”
“Rose quartz stones, smoky quartz, or even amethyst. Follow me.” He walks around a large wooden shelf leading us to a short table full of colorful rocks and jewelry. He picks one up, spreading out his fingers as he lifts his palm between us. “This is moonstone. It promotes the acceptance of loss.”
I think it’s too late for that, but I don’t say that to him, taking the stone and thanking him before letting him fill a cart up with more things I’ll probably never look at again once I walk out of here. The front door opens and the same lady from last time goes still when her eyes land on me.
“You’re back. I hope it’s because you want my help.”
Her son looks between us, his brows pushing together.
Looking down at the items in the basket, she takes it and shuffles through them. “These are all good, but only for people who truly want to move on.” She looks up, eyes flitting to the taller blond man. “I’ve got it from here, Aero.”
“Okay. I’ll be at the register if you need me.” He eyes us warily and then takes off in the opposite direction to where his mother is ushering him. “This is what you really need.” Reaching up onto a high shelf, she hands me the same satchel she tried to give me last time. “Sprinkle it outside your home and on your husband’s grave. It’s the only true way to get rid of the nightmares.”
“But I’m not having any nightmares.”
“That’s what it wants you to believe.”
“I read somewhere the spirit stays in our bodies months after we pass. Is that true?”
Her nose flares, body going rigid. “Even if it is, a strong entity must be trapped inside as well in order to give the body enough energy to fully come back to life.”
“So, Gareth is still in there, then.”
Her lips press into a thin line and she looks away from me, squeezing the satchel into my hand. “Yes, and you want to make sure only he stays in there until it’s time for him to fully pass over. Take this and do what I said. It’s the only way you can move past the mistake you’re thinking of making.”
Her eyes pierce mine, her body trembling. “Please. It will feel like the best choice in the world at first but that won’t last. Gareth wouldn’t want this for you, or him.”
“If spells like that weren’t meant to be cast then why are they put into books? Why are they sold in your shop?”
Her eyes drop to her feet, shoulders stiffening. “They aren’t. That book is old. It was left to me when my grandmother passed, locked away in a wooden chest in her basement. It’s not supposed to be here and never was until you came into myshop. Whenever you walk in, it finds its way back. Mr. Vega, something wants you to have that book. Something you don’t want anything to do with. Trust me.”
“Yeah, okay.” I pull away, shaking the satchel. “I’ll take this and everything in the basket, then.”
Her lips tilt and she pats me on the hand. “It’s on the house. Consider it all a gift.”
My mouth opens and closes before opening again. “I can’t. I’m happy to pay.”
