Chapter Eleven #3
I shut the tome slowly, gently, as if it might combust from any sudden movement.
It won’t be my fault if this ancient thing ceases to exist. I’m sure there is a curse that would attach itself to me faster than I can blink for that kind of insult.
I place it back on the table like I survived a marathon I clearly didn’t train for.
I don’t say anything. Just watch her.
Bellamy is in her element. She moved with the confidence of a seasoned professional, her black sweater sleeves pushed up above her elbows.
The kind that only comes from mastering it and knowing it will work.
Her fingers move deftly through the glass vials, pulling a pinch of this and that.
The ease in which she works through her bundles of herbs only comes from years and years of handling them.
Her lips are mouthing something I can’t quite hear, but it sounds like a lullaby meant to confuse spirits or charm grumpy vegetables. Hard to say, really.
There’s a smudge of flour—or maybe bone dust—on her cheek, and her braid is starting to come undone from where she tied it this morning.
Stray curls escape and brush along her face as she leans over the bubbling cauldron.
And maybe it’s the light from the fire or maybe it’s just her, but there is a soft glow to her.
Not in the “she’s a goddess sent to earth” kind of way, but in a way that feels like home.
I’m not usually one to question our Moon Goddess. I know she doesn’t get it wrong. But I do think she has one twisted sense of humor. Because of all the people to choose for me, she chose someone who would rather kiss a basilisk and risk death than admit she likes me back.
Although, I can’t argue with her taste.
Bellamy is smart, sharp, and sarcastic as hell.
In the short time I’ve been around her, I already know that every day will be an adventure and there won’t be a single dull moment in my life.
From the first moment I laid eyes on her, I knew that life would never be the same.
When she hexed my shirt, tried to push me away with the bright pink and glitter letters, I knew then that she felt something too even if she didn’t want to.
I’ve been enchanted by her ever since and there’s nothing she could do to change my mind.
Even now, as she rolls her eyes at Nyx and pretends that I’m not sitting right here, I know in my soul that she’s the one.
I know that I’ll spend the rest of my life chasing after her, trying to bring out that smile she keeps locked away, and avoiding hexes like it’s my only mission.
She’s my mate. My match. Even if she would light me on fire for saying anything.
I spend the rest of the day watching her mingle with customers as they come in to place their orders for spells, hexes, and there's even one curse order. I feel bad for whomever is on the receiving end of that one. There are a few times where I walk through the shop, careful not to bump or touch anything this time around. The shop feels like what you would envision a haggared old witch’s cottage would look like.
But oddly, it flows really well and I can sense every bit of Bellamy in it.
I could almost envision her setting each of the pieces.
The sun has set, and the orange glow of the lanterns outside is flowing in through her paned windows. I’m blinking slowly, almost falling asleep from the warmth of her hearth and the soft jazz tunes playing from somewhere in the shop.
“I didn’t think you could actually sit still and quiet for this long. I’m impressed.”
My eyes snap open as I sit up and find her standing in front of me with one hand on her hip and a smirk on her face. Nyx is sitting by her feet with all the judgement a fox could muster, with the same judgement coming from Sir-Hops-A-Lot, who is peeking around Nyx’s head from its perch on his back.
“Whoa, is that a Bellamy compliment?”
“Forget it,” she says as she throws her hands in the air. “Forget I said anything. I can already tell this is going to be a thing.” She walks away, collecting her black bag and throwing it over her shoulder.
I scramble out of my chair, chasing after her as she moves towards the door. Her eyes widen when she sees me running through the doorway as she holds the door open.
After locking the door, she turns, ready to say something snarky as always.
“Well, have a …”
“Can I walk you…Sorry, you first.”
“No, you can go first.” She smiles timidly.
My mind blanks, first because of the small smile but also from the fact that she didn’t just shut down what I was going to say. I’m standing there, mouth ajar, probably with a dumb look on my face. But I can’t process this.
“You alright?” she laughs.
Did I die? Am I still sitting in that chair where she left me? She said she wouldn’t revive me if I died. Was she being serious?
“Uh.” She tilts her head to the side with her eyes squinted. “You good? I know I say that I want you to be quiet, but I didn’t think it would ever actually work.”
She laughed. I’ve been waiting for this moment, and here it is. Now I’m standing here like an idiot, frozen in place. Shaking my head, I pull myself together. We have got to close this one.
Milo groans. “The level of idiocracy from you is astonishing.”
“Yeah, I’m good. I was going to ask if I could walk you home.”
She blinks a few times as if that wasn’t what she was expecting me to ask. “Uh, sure. But don’t get any ideas, Dog Boy, I won’t be holding your hand or giving you any head pats for doing it.”
“Noted.” I smirk as I hold my arm out wide for her to lead the way.
She humphs and starts walking. I can’t help the rising feelings at her letting me do this with minimal fighting. I really think this is all a dream and really I’m still inside the shop, sitting in the chair. If that’s true, then I’m going to enjoy this while I have it.
The air outside is crisp and cool enough to make me pull my hoodie sleeves down over my hands.
Sir Hops-A-Lot croaks and I scoop him up and put him into my hoodie pocket for warmth.
He croaks another time in what I assume is a “thank you.” We walk together in comfortable silence along the cobblestone path in the opposite direction of my cabin.
I know Elora said something about each species having its own sections. Kind of like it is in Jasper.
My home pack lives in a small town in Colorado that is similar to here in the sense of it’s full of shifters of all different species and we all have our own places around the town.
We all exist in harmony, just like here.
So in that aspect, it hasn’t been a huge change for me.
But, we definitely don’t have the magic that this town has or the odd things that happen here.
Like ghosts riding on Vespas or matchmaking 1950’s housewives.
Every so often, Bellamy glances over. It’s like she also can’t believe that we are walking together back to her house either. Which, fair. Because I didn’t think this would happen either.
As we are strolling along, the soft giggles of children float through the air as they run down the street chasing a bright red ball as it rolls ahead of them. It reminds me of all the pups back home. Sometimes, I miss Jasper in the quiet of my cabin and all the family I have back home.
“You know,” I say softly, not wanting to break this calm between us. “This town is weird.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Actually, I meant it in a good way. It’s just so different from where I’m from.”
Her eyebrows scrunch together. “Oh yeah? And where is that?”
“A small town in Colorado called Jasper. It’s kind of like this except it’s full of all kinds of shifters.
We have wolves, which run the town and protect it.
There are also bears, mountain lions, goats, and all kinds of other species.
We just don’t have magic, ghosts, and, you know, a magical barrier protecting our town. ”
“That’s pretty interesting. You’re the first shifter I’ve met from outside our town. Obviously we have our own wolf shifters, since you clearly came here for that pack. But yeah, outside of them, I’ve never met another one. I didn’t even know other species had shifters as well.”
“So does that mean that you’ve never been outside of Pumpkinridge?” I know I’m pushing it with all my questions, but she’s actually answering and not biting my head off. So, I’m going to roll with it.
“Nope,” she says with a pop of her p. “I was born here and come from a long line of witches that traces all the way back to one founder of this town, Izora Sinclair.”
My mouth falls open, and I point at her. “So, that’s what you…”
“Yep,” she says with a soft chuckle. “Izora Sinclair is my great grandmother from a few generations ago.”
“Are citizens here allowed to leave? Or are you…stuck?”
She shakes her head slowly. “We can leave, but most of us are either too terrified to leave town or just not interested in what the outside world offers.”
I shrug my shoulders because, fair.
“I can’t say that it’s grand out there, but I would love to show you my hometown one day.”
She comes to a stop in front of a Gothic, Victorian-style, two-story house that is, of course, all black. It sits on top of a small hill, with a cobblestone path leading to the front door. Rose bushes line the walkway covered in deep red roses that are almost black with how dark they are.
“This is me.”
I nod, suddenly not sure what to do with my hands or myself. This is honestly the most conversation I’ve had with her where she isn’t full of the same thorns adorning her rose bushes. I don’t want it to end or to lose the momentum I’ve made today.
“Uh, thanks for letting me hang at your shop today.”
She raises a brow. “You didn’t really give me much of a choice,” she says with a chuckle.
“I did,” I say. “You just didn’t take it.”
Her lips twitch like she’s fighting a smile.
“Goodnight, Dog Boy.”
I smile my best smile. “Goodnight, Trouble.”
And for the first time since I met her…I think she didn’t mean that nickname with the same venom from the beginning. Maybe there’s hope for me yet.