Chapter 3 Witchcraft
WITCHCRAFT
RAE
My gaze followed the light to a bookstore filled with flickering candles. How odd. I could’ve sworn the wall had shown an ad for a store opening this winter. The creepy bookstore made me question my memory.
Balancing my purse and cake box, I walked toward the glimmer of light.
As I entered the store, the corridor behind me flickered back to life.
May as well grab some new books while I’m here.
Even with the power restored, the bookstore’s lighting remained unchanged.
Dozens of candles decorated the store, positioned on candelabras, inside hurricane globes, and within glass enclosures along the walls.
Streams of melting wax trickled onto pottery plates from pillar candles crowned with hardened peaks.
Pools of wax on the wooden floor made it clear this wasn’t a new shop.
The bookstore felt frozen in time, antique furniture flanked by battered bookshelves laden with timeworn books stood to the right of the entrance.
I frowned at the faded covers and spines. Strange choice for a storefront in a mall.
Worn floors creaked beneath my feet as I stepped farther inside, careful not to brush the flames of nearby candelabras. The aroma of lavender and rosemary permeated the air, drifting from bundles hanging from wooden beams overhead.
To my left, similar bookshelves lined the walls and the open floor. They held books written in this century, unlike the ones across the store that looked ready to crumble to dust.
Something kept tugging my gaze toward the old books, tightening my chest.
I set the cake box at my feet and grabbed a book by an author Maya told me about. She loved fantasy and paranormal romance from the late nineties and early 2000s. And while I wasn’t an avid reader, I favored thrillers and contemporary or dark romance written in the last decade.
I grabbed three books to give me options and picked up the cake box, then checked the ticking grandfather clock. I still had time, but I’d need to leave for the bus soon.
Making my way through the bookshelves toward the counter, I paused. The tugging in my chest returned, distracting me. Why did the idea of not following the pull leave me feeling hollow?
I set the cake box on the counter with my paperbacks and followed the pull to the store’s corner, where the oldest books were. Scanning the shelf, I tried to make sense of the feeling.
The tug vanished, replaced by a tingle prickling along my skin like ants crawling all over me.
“Find what you’re looking for?”
I yelped and whirled toward the soft, melodic voice.
“I’m sorry if I scared you.”
A beautiful woman, who looked no older than thirty, smiled at me. Her springy brunette curls brushed her shoulders, forming a layered halo around her head. Brown skin glowed bronze under the warm candlelight.
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t see anyone else here.” I laughed. “I didn’t even know there was a bookstore here.”
“I relocated here recently,” the woman said with a smile. Her peridot eyes, vivid against her deeper skin tone, sparkled with warmth as if they, too, were smiling.
Considering she didn’t sound like she was from the area, relocation made sense.
With little time to spare, I didn’t question the abundance of wax or the creaky floorboards aging the shop. Maybe the aesthetic choices were intentional. It made for a quaint—albeit spooky—bookstore.
I turned back to the bookshelf that demanded my attention but froze, sensing eyes on me from behind. Ridiculous, standing in a corner with nothing but a bookshelf behind me, but I trusted my instincts.
The woman stepped to my side, pulling books from the shelves and stacking them in her arms. “The storm sounds dreadful. I hope you brought an umbrella.”
“No, I thought I had one in the breakroom at work, but I don’t. I’ll have to run through the parking lot to the bus. I can use my purse.”
“That won’t do. I have a spare I can give you.” She turned and walked to the counter with her stack of books before I could protest.
I scanned the books again, and a sudden ache gripped my chest. I placed my hand on my sternum over the pendant beneath my shirt. The tug from earlier faded, replaced by a subtle discomfort.
Frowning at the strangeness, I turned away and went to the counter. Today’s stress and bizarre incidents pressed down on me, likely causing the unease I’d felt since entering the bookstore.
“Might I make a suggestion?”
I glanced up at the woman as I dug through my purse for my wallet. “Hm?”
She finished bagging the paperbacks, taking my debit card. Her eyes shimmered green, captivating me. “I have a feeling you could use a turn of luck.”
Taken aback, I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“We all could use happiness in our lives.”
“Right, I guess so.” I punched in my PIN with a thin and shaky laugh.
“And I think you, Raelynn, deserve more than this life is giving you.”
My hand froze above the keypad.
A chill slithered down my spine as I locked eyes with the woman; the only noise in the dim store was the faint sound of the receipt printing.
Finally, I dared to ask, “How do you know my name?”
She smiled and pulled a thick black book from the stack she’d retrieved from the bookshelf. “Your name tag.”
“Oh.” Jesus, Rae. Get it together.
She placed the book on the counter with a smile. “I think this book may change your luck.”
Intricate designs adorned leather that looked old despite the book’s mint condition.
My eyes widened as I took in the symbol on the cover.
Inside the central triangle on the cover, lines branched in three directions into smaller circles and sharp points, all encircled by a larger ring. It reminded me of the birthmark below my left butt cheek. The only difference was two filled circles at the top and three at the bottom.
My parents came close to losing me to Child Protective Services after neighbors saw the birthmark at a pool party.
They thought my parents had tattooed my leg, claiming the mocha-hued mark looked too precise to be a natural birthmark.
But newborn photos prevented CPS from taking me.
While not as defined on a newborn’s leg, the triangle was unmistakable.
Doctors didn’t understand it, but since I’d had no problems, I hadn’t thought of it… until now.
Shaking my thoughts away, I asked, “How can a book change my luck?”
“Why not? Words have the power to do many things. Sway the heart, enrich the mind, take us on grand adventures both in life and in our imaginations.”
The woman pushed the book forward. The ruby ring gleamed where it joined the chain linking it to her bracelet, sparkling in the candlelight. She stepped back, pulling her chartreuse shawl around her.
“Do I look that bad?”
With a tilt of her head, she said, “I don’t concern myself with others’ appearances. It does nothing for me.”
“Ah, no. I mean…” I laughed. “I’ve had a terrible day with the worst luck. I wondered if it was written all over my face if you think I need something to improve things. I didn’t mean—” I pressed my lips together at her soft laughter.
“I understand. While you look tired, this is more… call it intuition.” The woman looked at the book. “Inside this tome is a small spell I think will do you good.”
“Spell?”
“Mmhm,” she hummed, a musical quality to the sound.
“While I work at a New Age shop, I don’t really study things like witchcraft.”
“Nothing and no one in this world—or the ones beyond—have ever prospered so brilliantly as with those who take risks and follow their instincts. What are your instincts telling you, Raelynn?”
I looked down at the book, the tug in my chest returning the moment I stilled. I didn’t understand it.
She saw what she wanted in my expression because she said, “This spell will do two things for you. If you’re lucky, the results will intertwine.” She glanced at the grandfather clock before returning her attention to me.
“What two things?”
As our gazes locked, the room seemed to lose warmth; the tension in the air made my skin crawl.
“Within these pages are the words to summon your soul’s greatest need and answer your heart’s call. However, I must caution you, once you spin the wheel of fate, you cannot undo what you set in motion. Be absolutely certain of your decision before you speak these words.”
I wanted to laugh at her newfound seriousness. It wasn’t in my nature to treat things like this seriously, but an inexplicable longing compelled me to grab the book and run. The feeling made no sense. This entire interaction was absurd.
“I can’t afford this.” The leather looked real, the condition perfect. “Anyway, I need to go, or I’ll miss my bus.”
“This book is special and exists only for one purpose. Take it.”
“I can’t just take it. If it’s important, it shouldn’t sit on the shelf in my house collecting dust.”
“Dear Raelynn, trust what’s inside you. What does your heart tell you?”
I studied the book again and placed my hand on top of the symbol burned into the leather. A jolt like lightning shot up my arm, ripping the air from my lungs, forcing me to remove my hand. A need I’d never known before burned my throat and made my body warm.
The woman’s voice took on a firm tone, sounding far away. “Take the book.”
Without giving myself time to second-guess my decision, I shoved the book into my bag, grabbed the cake box, and rushed across the wooden floor, careful to avoid the candle wax.
“Raelynn, you forgot something.”
I stopped and turned to find the mysterious woman holding up a rainbow umbrella.