Annie danced back to Claire, grabbed her hands and swung her around. Laughing, Claire held on. They both collapsed against the counter, smiling at each other. Then Claire straightened, adjusted her sweater, brushed her hair over her shoulders and approached her customers.
“Good morning. How can I help you?”
The woman smiled. “You can give me some of what she’s having.”
Annie draped one arm around Claire’s shoulders.
“It’s elixir of best friend ever. I think she’s got some over on the shelf with the oils.”
The woman clasped Claire’s hand. “Your shop is the reason I come to the festival every year. I love the feel of it, and my husband mocks me for it, but I believe there is real magic here. And I get to take some of it home with me.”
Claire felt heat rush into her cheeks.
“Thank you. I’ve seen you in here before—can I ask your name?”
“Regina.” She squeezed Claire’s hand, then let go. “Now I’m going to buy myself some magic—for me and my daughter.”
She herded the little dancer with her to the back of the shop, laughing at the excited voice.
“That’s why you’re successful, best friend ever.” Annie kissed her cheek. “Uh-oh.”
Claire followed her line of sight—and her smile froze on her face when she spotted Mildred in the doorway, waving a flyer that gave her a free tarot reading.
“Heaven help me. Stop laughing, Annie, or I’ll make you do her reading.”
With a sigh, she moved forward, bracing herself for a long appointment and an earful of gossip.
*
Eric stood on the sidewalk, in front of her store, thwarted for the second day in a row by the crowds swirling around him.
She was so close, just on the other side of the glass. Laughing, talking, breathing, when she was supposed to be dead.
His head pounded as he watched her, rage burning through him like acid. She wrapped one arm around an old woman’s shoulders, led her away from him, out of sight. His gut twisted, and before he could stop himself, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The scent of lavender froze him. Katelyn wore the scent—he grew up with it permanently in his nostrils, and every girl he dated always told him he smelled so pretty for a jock—
Grief threatened to double him. He reached out to grab a wall, a counter, anything to steady him. Strong fingers caught his outstretched hand.
“Hello, handsome. We meet again.” His head whipped around at the voice, and he looked into warm brown eyes. Their owner almost matched him for height, and looked familiar. She smiled as he struggled to make the connection. “Billie’s Pub, yesterday. You look better than you did then, when I—”
“Put me in a cab. I remember.” This time her touch, her light soothed instead of burned. In retaliation, the rage coiling through him snapped out. She jerked away, staring at him as she shook out her hand. “I’m—sorry. I have to go.”
He nearly ran over the young family walking into the store in his rush to be free of it. Free of her.
“Eric!” She followed him outside, touched him again. He wanted to warn her, hurt her, keep her away from him before he did something he could never take back— “I know you’re not okay, so don’t lie. But is there anything I can do?”
“Stay away from me. Please, Annie—just stay the hell away.”
She let go of him, took the light with her.
“Fine.” Crossing her arms, she stood her ground. “Just tell me why.” She didn’t even flinch when he swore. “Not the answer I was looking for.”
He almost smiled. Her humor made him feel; not the grinding hate, or the bursts of rage, but an echo of what he remembered from his life. Before he lost everything.
“I can’t give you that answer. Just stay clear of me. For your own—” Pain stabbed him. He clenched his fists, rode it out. He knew the pain was a warning, that he shouldn’t even be talking to her. “Goodbye, Annie.”
“Eric.” He paused, his back to her. “Whatever it is that’s hurting you, I hope you find your way past it.”
Swallowing, he kept walking. And let her words fill him, for just a minute, before the rage claimed him again.
*
“You can do this,” Annie said to herself, her fingers shaking as she pushed her hair back. “You can do this.”
Opening the notebook, she skimmed the love spell she’d composed that morning—and ignored the guilt scratching at her conscience for lying outright to Claire.
She had learned so much more since that first unfortunate—incident. And she had been practicing. Another little detail she failed to mention after Claire’s last lecture on the dangers of using magic when she wasn’t ready.