Chapter 32
It’s a strange little place, candles and incense so strong that my lungs seize as we enter, but something is calling to me, leading me deeper inside.
The shopkeeper is a short older woman with faded pink hair. It’s put up in pigtails, and it sways as she moves. Her dark eyes are framed with equally dark glasses, but she wears no other jewelry, except for a bright orange pin with the name Moira.
She says nothing as we enter.
Inside, the store is tiny, as if someone took a shoebox and stood it on its short end. The ceilings reach high above us while the walls seem to close in, stuffed from floor to high beams with crystals and artifacts of every size.
Shelves spill over with tiny bottles, carrying ingredients like yeti fur (freely shed) and crushed phoenix egg (hatched). Hanging from every conceivable point are wind chimes that gently whistle and sing despite the stillness.
How odd.
“Wow, this is great.” Lucky is already bouncing around like a kid in a candy store, which is an interesting look for a guy who’s six-two and covered in tattoos.
It’s hard not to absorb his enthusiasm—something I suspect I’m going to have to get used to if we’re going to be friends.
Funny how, a few days ago, I didn’t think I had any of those here, and now … well, it’s nice. Like Fate is reassuring me that I was right. I’m meant to be here. Things will work out.
“Look at this,” he says, pointing at a bronze dagger, its sheath covered in runes.
There’s an inscription in the blade—Beyond earth, moon, and mortal rule.
I’m suddenly desperate to press my fingers into the words, but as I reach out, Lucky stops me.
“I didn’t take you as superstitious,” I say, amused.
I’m expecting a joke or a wink, something playful because that’s how he’s been about everything so far, but there’s only sincerity in his eyes. “Some things are beyond human understanding. I choose to respect that.”
Well, well, well. He really is full of surprises.
“You aren’t even a little curious about what could happen?” I know I am.
“I don’t need all the answers to life,” he says, trailing his hand reverently in the air, careful not to touch the shelf itself.
“Mystery is what makes it beautiful, you know? And we’re all free to give it our own meaning.
That’s beautiful too. For as long as we’ve been around, we’ve created ways to share that with each other. That’s what interests me.”
The aisle is narrow, leaving no room to pass each other without touching. It draws me closer to him, and he must feel it, too, stepping closer, filling my vision.
“But that doesn’t mean I won’t go after what I want.”
My eyes flutter closed, each breath deep with heat and him.
“Curiosity is a rare gift,” I say. “Respect even more so.”
“What are you curious about?”
You. I don’t say it, but I swear he hears it anyway when I look up and watch as his smile curls deeper into his cheek.
Knowing. Sure.
“People,” I admit.
There’s a box on the shelf beside him, beside vials of swirling ectoplasm and dried flowers. It’s ajar. The need to open it, to look inside and discover, is overwhelming.
I don’t need all the answers, but, wow, do I love looking for them. Always have.
“We’ve proven time and time again that we’re capable of anything.”
Great feats of strength, exploration, science, art, empathy … you name it, and humans have tried to excel in it, but we’ve also discovered new depths of cruelty, apathy, and greed.
For good or for bad, we always find a way to do more, and if we can do better and we don’t, that’s not an accident.
That’s a decision.
I think I’m becoming addicted to Lucky’s smiles. The fluttering in my stomach increases, and like a glass overflowing, I feel more words tumbling out, filling up the silence.
I let them. It’s either that or kiss him.
“Our choices matter. They change us and the people around us, and I never want to forget that. And maybe that makes me rush sometimes; maybe I’m young and inexperienced and need to slow down, but I don’t want to.”
“You want to soak up as much life as you can, while you can. I know the feeling.”
I expect he does.
We move deeper into the shop, which goes farther than I thought it would. New corners appear at every turn, like mirrors facing each other, a series of infinite reflections.
Moira is nowhere to be seen.
Ingredients, bundled in fabric pouches, promise insight into the future, new love, and protection.
Lucky pauses, and I follow his gaze to a deep blue bottle. The label reads forget your regret. He lingers.
I desperately want to ask.
“There should be a hex your ex potion around here somewhere,” I offer.
He turns to me, and the memories play so vividly over his expression that they almost project outward, like his body is here, but his mind is in another place, another time. “He’ll be doing that to himself; he won’t need any help from me.”
The memory ends, and his attention refocuses on me. Not sharp, no. Lucky’s attention is always gentle. But unwavering. Like nothing else exists.
“But I’ll gladly cause some problems for yours.”
“How sweet of you.”
The air pressure changes, heats. My breathing deepens, and each rise and fall shifts my clothes like a caress against my skin. I imagine it feels like his hands would.
“Any regrets?” he asks.
“No.” It’s a whisper. Huey has no place here, not in my future. “I need someone who wants what I want.”
Lucky steps closer, his voice soft. “And what’s that?”
The lights seem to dim.
“Everything.”
The touch of his palm on my waist is electric.
“I thought we weren’t meant to touch anything in here,” I whisper, letting him press me against the shelf.
“I’m making an exception.”
He teases the tip of his nose along my cheek, sending tingles through me. It wouldn’t take much to kiss him. He’s right there; all I’d need to do is move, tilt up, and make our lips meet, but I don’t.
The wait is a delicious kind of agony. Each second, each breath turns the heat of my blood up a little bit more, until wanting him is a song I can’t stop replaying in my head, over and over and over.
The kiss, when it comes, is lightning to my skin, more than the firm press of his mouth, more than the eager, searching curl of his tongue around mine. It’s overwhelming. A bass thumping deep into my bones. Moving. Vital. Life-giving.
It feels like falling, and I reach blindly for the case behind me, my palm catching on a strange stone. I pull back from the kiss and pick it up.
It’s glowing.
Faint pink light coats my fingertips, illuminating the deep, swirling patterns within the crystal itself. They have no beginning or end, stretching endlessly into the stone itself, although it’s no bigger than my hand.
I can’t look away.
“Touch it,” I tell Lucky. I don’t know why.
Slowly, he reaches out …
* * *
Make Your Choice:
something magical happens (go to 42)
nothing happens (go to 49)
go back (go to 30)