Chapter 4
Rowan hadn’t slept properly. She’d tossed and turned for hours, David’s words circling in her mind like a fog that wouldn’t clear.
The other side of the Veil.
She’d seen Veil Walkers before. The West End had its share, flickering presences that moved through the streets like afterimages. But she had never once considered that the man from the shop could be one of them.
Where would a Veil Walker stay? What kind of work would they do? How would they integrate themselves into an ordinary life? Rowan lay in the dark and turned each question over, and none of them settled.
And then, unbidden, the man himself. Not the mystery of him, but the shape. The broad frame filling the doorway. The tattoos on his arms catching the light. The low, easy voice that said her name as if he’d been saying it for years.
She pushed the thought away and stared at the ceiling.
She was up with the morning sun, ready for her daily routine. But the thoughts followed her out of bed and into her practise.
As she reached out to the Veil, she felt something. Not a tear. Not a warning. Something subtler. A softness where there should have been resistance.
A dent. That was the word Elspeth had used.
She took a mental note to tell the girls. Three of them had felt something independently during the group chat. That wasn’t a coincidence. It could be the start of something new, and they all needed to be vigilant.
The Magick Wick was quiet in the mornings.
Rowan loved that hour before the first customer, when the shop was just hers.
The smell of beeswax and patchouli hung in the air, and the early light came through the front window in a long, warm stripe that crept across the wooden floor.
She moved through the space barefoot, arranging displays, straightening jars, letting her hands remember where everything belonged.
Her thoughts drifted back to David and Jessica. She’d got to know them a little more last night and liked them even more than before. They were down to earth, genuine people. No one passing them on the street would suspect them of being powerful witches and Dream Dancers.
But it was that pang of loneliness again that hit her the hardest.
She brushed it off and kept working.
Sadie from the newsagent next door waved through the window and mimed drinking a cup of coffee. Rowan smiled and put her thumb up. A few minutes later, Sadie came in with two takeaway cups from the nearby café.
“Oh, thanks for that, Sadie. You’re a lifesaver,” Rowan said, sitting down at the till counter.
“No bother. How’s things?”
“Yeah, all good. Just getting set up for the day.”
“Looks like it’s going to be another nice day,” Sadie said. “You’ll get a few passers-by coming down from the top of Hyndland Road.” She laughed. “Your shop’s always busy. Must be the magic candles. Speaking of which, I’ll need to get a few more for around the house. What do you suggest?”
After recommending a few candles and a five-minute chat, Sadie left, and Rowan was on her own again.
She was putting in a new till roll when the shop door tinkled.
An older woman stepped inside. She had silver-grey hair cut in a neat, tight bob, and she wore a dark-blue suit that looked expensive without trying. She carried herself the way wealthy people often did, with a quiet certainty in every step.
Rowan reached out with her energy, the way she did with every customer who walked through the door.
Nothing.
The same silence. The same wall.
Twenty years she’d had this gift. Twenty years of reading every person who walked into this shop, every stranger on the street, every friend, every lover.
It had never failed her. Not once. And now, twice in two days, from the same family, it was as if her ability simply stopped at the edges of these people.
Her stomach turned.
The woman walked up to the counter and spoke in a clipped, matter-of-fact tone. “Are you the owner?”
“Good morning. Yes, I am,” Rowan said, keeping her voice steady. “Is everything okay?”
The woman pursed her lips. “You sold my son a candle holder yesterday.”
“A candle holder? What kind?”
“Silver one. With a symbol on it.”
“Oh, yes. Yes, I remember. Are you looking for another one to match?”
“No. I’m just wondering where you got it from. Do you have a supplier for that particular candle holder?”
“I’ve got a supplier for the candle holder itself, but I sent ten of them away to get etched with that symbol.”
The woman raised her eyebrows and looked at Rowan as if sizing her up.
“Was there something wrong with the candle holder?” Rowan asked after a few seconds.
“No. Honestly, no. I’m just trying to get my head around where you’ve seen that symbol. It’s not something you come across every day.”
It was Rowan’s turn to be careful. “It’s my own design. I got it through a dream, and I drew it as soon as I woke up. I thought it was a beautiful symbol, so I had it etched onto some candle holders. I think your son bought the last one yesterday.”
“Do you know what it means?” the woman said. Her voice was steady, but her eyes were sharp.
“Yes, I do. Your son told me yesterday,” Rowan said.
The woman paused a second longer than was natural.
Then she turned and walked towards the door. Her hand was on the handle when she stopped and turned back. “Thank you,” she said.
Rowan almost let her go. Almost.
“Can I ask why you’re so interested in the symbol?” Rowan said. “It seems an unusual thing to enquire about.”
The woman let her hand drop from the handle and walked slowly back towards the counter.
“The symbol is …” She paused. Her eyes met Rowan’s, and for a moment, the composure cracked, just enough. “From a world that no other person would know, unless they had been there.”