The Whimsy Witch Who Wasn't - Donna Augustine Page 0,2

that no one knows about, but I’m confident in what I’m doing. It will be fine.”

The saddest part of this was that she believed what she was saying. None of that was why I hated séances. What I truly hated was the sadness that typically came with them, people trying to talk to their lost loved ones. The whole thing brought me down. I really needed to find a different job. This place had been perfect when I was fifteen and everyone else wanted to run my paperwork. Now? I could go somewhere else.

Except who would take care of Loris? She needed me more than I needed her at this point. Every person that walked in the door tried to scam her, and I was often the only one who stopped them.

“You’ll do it for me?” She was holding her hands together in front of her.

“Fine. If you really need me.”

That problem solved, she was in motion again, heading to the register and taking out money. “We’re out of rue. I’ve got to go down the street and see if Amanda has any. Although she’ll probably lie, and then I’ll have to go beg Meg, who’ll tell me how I do everything wrong.”

Amanda and Meg had competing magic shops the next block over, which could only happen in Salem, or perhaps New Orleans. Although I’d never been more than a hundred miles from here, so I couldn’t really be sure.

“You don’t have any in the deliveries?” I asked, pointing at the boxes, knowing that Amanda and Meg would both overcharge her.

“I didn’t order any. Didn’t realize how low I was,” she said.

“Don’t pay more than…”

I gave up, as she was already gone. A strong gust of wind held the door open longer than it should, blowing in all sorts of leaves and debris with it. I’d have to sweep it out, but that could wait until later. First I had to go through the bills and see if she’d paid anyone too much while I was gone. It was easier to rake people over the coals when their crimes were fresh than later in the day, when the dirty deed would be buried under a mountain of other sins. This was why I hated coming in late. The vultures all seemed to know when I was gone.

I grabbed a ceremonial knife from the desk and started slicing open the various boxes, unpacking deliveries, and matching them to receipts, thinking of how awful the séance would be tonight. If there was crying, I’d have to leave, even if just for long bathroom breaks.

I sliced another box open, and the candles in the place flickered with the gust of wind from the door opening.

A man stood right within the door, taller than average but not monstrously so. His shoulders were square, his eyes deeply set in a chiseled face that might’ve been a little too angular to be called common. Some might even think he had a handsome face, if he didn’t seem slightly off-putting in his intensity. He might’ve been in his late twenties or thirties, but his stare felt like he’d seen it all.

Except perhaps for me? There was definitely a look of shock as he took me in. I ran a hand over my face, wondering if there was some chocolate on my face from the taste of icing I’d had.

I looked down at my fingers. Nothing there.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

He didn’t answer. He scanned the room with eyes so grey they seemed nearly silver in contrast to the darkness of his skin and brows, until they settled on the counter, where a single black feather lay. I hadn’t noticed it, but it must’ve blown in when Loris left.

The more he stared at it, the more I wanted it away from me. The feeling didn’t make a lot of sense, but I just wanted the thing gone. I leaned down and blew it off the counter. It drifted off and then was taken up by a draft in the room until it circled back and landed in front of me.

I blew on it again, and it wouldn’t budge. The less it moved, the more I wanted it gone.

I had to forget the feather. I’d deal with that after I figured out what this guy wanted.

“Are you looking for something?” I asked.

He still didn’t answer as his stare landed on me. He walked closer and picked up the stray feather.

Between it being my mother’s birthday, the unsettling girl