Eva POV
By the time I left the bar, I had officially decided two things.
First, Greg from marketing deserved to lose his job.
Second, tequila solved problems faster than therapy.
Rain slammed into me the second I stepped outside. Within minutes my jacket was soaked through, cold water dripping down the back of my neck while I stood there staring at the street and reconsidering most of my recent life choices.
Behind me, somebody threw up into a plant. I understood the feeling. The last twelve hours had felt suspiciously similar.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
NINA: did you get fired fired or dramatic fired
I stared at the message for a second before typing back.
ME: what’s the difference
Her reply arrived seconds later.
NINA: one gets severance pay.
Rude.
I shoved my phone away before she could ask more questions and kept walking. My shoes squeaked against the wet sidewalk every few steps. At this point, I already knew tomorrow was going to hurt.
Apparently calling your manager “a corporate parasite with a pot belly” during a meeting counted as hostile workplace behavior.
Personally, I thought Greg was being sensitive.
Then again, I'd spent six years at that company and got fired in under three minutes, so maybe I wasn't the best judge of workplace etiquette anymore.
I turned the corner too fast and nearly missed the little shop. The sign above the entrance flickered weakly through the rain.
MORRIGAN IMPORTS.
Half the letters barely worked.
The place sat wedged between a vape store and a laundromat that was almost certainly involved in illegal activity after midnight. Warm yellow light glowed through the front windows, and after the day I'd had, it was weirdly comforting.
Then I noticed the sign taped crookedly beside the door.
CLOSING SALE: EVERYTHING MUST GO
Now listen.
Women going through breakdowns should not legally be allowed near sales. Especially after tequila. That’s how situations happen.
The bell above the door let out a horrible screech when I stepped inside. Warm air washed over me along with the smell of incense, old books, dust, and enough vanilla to suffocate a Victorian child.
The entire place was mildly insane.
Candles covered almost every shelf. Tiny jars filled with floating things lined the walls beside stacks of old books piled high enough to become structural hazards. Near the register, a goat skull wearing sunglasses sat beside a crystal ball like it paid taxes there.
I stopped walking.
“…You know what? He has a better life than me ”
“You are the first person who has respected Bernard.”
I turned toward the counter.
An older man sat behind the counter reading a massive book while tiny glasses rested low on his nose. He carried a very specific kind of exhaustion. Not tired exactly. More like someone who'd spent decades watching humanity make the same mistakes.
“The sunglasses help,” I said.
“They were his idea.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m choosing not to question that.”
“An excellent habit.”
I liked him.
Most of the candles were deeply concerning. Black candles wrapped in twine sat beside red ones carved with symbols. One candle literally had tiny bones tied around it, which felt excessive even by occult standards. Then I spotted the vanilla candles near the bottom shelf. Finally, something normal.
“Oh thank God,” I muttered while grabbing one. “A candle that doesn’t look emotionally unstable.”
“You should buy those.”
I nearly threw the candle across the room. The old man appeared beside me without making a sound.
“Jesus Christ,” I hissed. “Do you teleport?”
“Bad knees. Quiet footsteps.”
“That explanation made it scarier.”
He ignored my grumbling and shoved the entire box into my arms.
“All twelve.”
I stared at him. “Why would I ever need twelve vanilla candles?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“That sounded threatening.”
“It wasn’t meant to.”
“That made it more threatening.”
Something crashed loudly in the back room before I could say anything else. Glass shattered somewhere behind the curtain near the counter. Then somebody yelled,
“I TOLD YOU THE CIRCLE WAS TOO SMALL.”
Another voice yelled back, “HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW IT HAD TEETH?”
I glanced toward the curtain. And the old man closed his eyes for one long second.
“…Family business?” I guessed.
“Unfortunately,” he sighed and rubbed a hand across his face.
The curtain flew open and a younger guy stumbled out carrying an armful of candles. He had dark hair, a hoodie zipped wrong, and the same exhausted expression as the old man. The difference was that he was significantly more alarmed.
Then he noticed me. More specifically, he noticed the candles in my arms. His entire face dropped.
“Oh no,” he whispered.
I frowned. “That feels rude.”
The younger guy pointed at me while staring at the old man. “You sold them to her already?”
“Inside now, ” the old man said calmly.
“You gave her the whole set?”
“The situation developed quickly.”
“What whole set?!”
Both men turned to me. The younger guy opened his mouth. The old man stepped directly on his foot. The sound that came out of him belonged in an animal documentary.
“Family business,” the old man repeated smoothly while the younger guy folded sideways in pain.
At that point, I was starting to suspect the candles weren't the strangest thing in the building.
Unfortunately, the candles smelled really nice. That was the main reason I ignored every red flag in that shop and bought the entire box anyway. Well, that and the fact I was drunk and making questionable decisions.
The old man packed the candles into a paper bag while the younger guy continued recovering from whatever internal crisis he was having beside the counter.
“You should avoid lighting the black one first,” he muttered while rubbing his foot.
The old man sighed. “Stop talking.”
“I’m trying to help.”
“You are actively making everything worse.”
I pointed between them. “Okay, seriously. Are you people in a cult?”
“No,” both of them answered.
Too fast.
“…That felt rehearsed.”
The younger guy seemed ready to say something else, but the old man shoved the bag into my hands before he could speak.
“Have a good night, Eva.”
I froze. “I never told you my name.”
For the first time, the old man hesitated. Then he smiled politely in a way that made me trust him even less.
“We have a loyalty program.”
“That answer raised more questions.”
The younger guy was moments away from saying something else, but the old man stepped on his foot again.
Whatever was happening here was above my pay grade.
I left before things could get any weirder.
The rain had mostly calmed down by the time I reached my apartment building, although my socks were still wet, which I considered a personal attack.
I climbed four flights of stairs carrying wine and twelve candles while seriously considering becoming rich out of pure spite. Mostly because the alternative was thinking about rent.
Apartment 4B was unlocked when I pushed the door open.
Nina was lying upside down on the couch with a face mask on, scrolling through her phone like a corpse with Wi-Fi.
“You smell like tequila and unemployment,” she said without looking up.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s definitely not a good thing.”
I kicked the door shut behind me and dropped the shopping bags dramatically onto the coffee table. Several candles rolled sideways out of the box.
Nina finally sat up.
“…Why do you own enough candles to summon something?”
I pointed at her. “Interesting that your brain went there first.”
“There are twelve candles, Eva.”
“They were discounted.”
“That’s how cults recruit people.”
I ignored her and unpacked them anyway. The apartment lighting sucked at night, and after the day I’d had, I wanted the place to feel less depressing.
The black candle rolled out last.
Nina's attention locked onto it instantly.
“…Absolutely not.”
“What?”
“That candle looks evil.”
I picked it up and turned it over in my hands. The silver symbols carved into the wax made my eyes ache if I stared at them too long.
“The old guy gave me this one for free.”
Nina lowered her phone. “That sentence has killed people before.”
“He also knew my name.”
“Great. Fantastic. So you bought cursed candles from a psychic serial killer.”
I snorted while carrying a few candles toward the living room floor.
“Relax. Worst case scenario, they explode.”
“That is not the comforting sentence you think it is.”
I ignored her and started placing candles around the coffee table anyway. The smell of vanilla spread through the apartment while Nina watched me with growing concern.
“You’re placing them in a circle,” she said.
I glanced down. Okay, that did seem a little suspicious.
“It’s for decoration,” I said.
Nina studied me in silence before turning her phone camera towards me.
“What are you doing?”
“If a demon appears, I need evidence for the police.”
I snorted while grabbing another candle from the box. “What exactly are the police supposed to do about a demon?”
“I don’t know. Read it its rights?”
“Fair.”
Nina stayed curled sideways on the couch watching me arrange candles around the coffee table while her face mask had started peeling off one side of her cheek. The apartment already smelled overwhelmingly of vanilla.
“You bought way too many,” she muttered.
“They were on sale.”
“You say that like it removes responsibility.”
“It literally does.”
I grabbed the black candle last and paused. Up close, the silver markings seemed to shift at the edges of my vision. Not glowing exactly, but sharp enough to make my eyes linger in all the wrong ways.
“I still hate that one,” Nina muttered.
“The old guy said it was decorative.”
“The old guy also sounds haunted.”
Fair enough.
I placed the black candle near the middle beside the wine bottle while Nina watched the setup become increasingly satanic.
“…Eva.”
“What?”
“You accidentally made a ritual circle.”
I glanced down at the floor. Okay. From this angle it did look a little demonic.