Chapter Five #2
She did know. That was the irritating part. For all the cosmic dramatics and well-meaning panic, her sisters had always orbited one another with care. Even when they annoyed her. Even when they were wrong. Even when they were — annoyingly, often smugly — right.
“I just don’t want you to dismiss this,” Celestine went on. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I promise,” Augustine said, because it cost her nothing to say, but meant everything to her sister to hear. She took a deep breath. “It’s times like this I wish Mum were here. She’d know what to do.”
Celestine sighed. “Yeah. I wish she was here, too. But she’s not. They got her.”
Augustine felt her stomach twist. “We don’t know that. Not for certain.”
“There’s no other explanation that makes any sense.
” Celestine’s voice was firm now. “I mean, one Halloween, Mum just ups and leaves? Says she’ll be back soon but never is?
No. Mum wouldn’t leave us. Not like that.
Besides, Mum was the highest-ranking witch in the country at the time.
The witch hunters had been searching for her for years.
Just like they’ll be looking for us now. ”
Augustine opened her mouth to reply, but she closed it again slowly, the words stalling somewhere behind her teeth.
Because Celestine was right. Mum hadn’t just left, and Augustine knew that better than anyone.
She’d been the last one to see her. The last one to hear her voice.
The last person Mum had spoken to before she walked out the door, promising she’d be back soon.
That memory had lived beneath Augustine’s skin ever since.
It’s your fault it happened, too, a whispered voice said in her head.
“I . . .” Augustine swallowed. “Maybe.”
“Not maybe. We’re not so careful all the time because of ’maybe’. We don’t hardly see one another because of ‘maybe’. So, please keep being careful, okay?”
“Okay.”
Celestine exhaled deeply, before she cleared her throat, the tension easing just a fraction. “So,” she said, more brightly now. “Any other news?”
“No.”
“No?” Celestine sounded sceptical. “Nothing at all?”
“Nope.”
“What, no wild London nights out? No amazing dates? No scandalous affairs with mysterious strangers who lurk in incense shops?”
Tell her about the part where you found this potential witch hunter slash odd customer to be ‘conventionally attractive’, Roy mouthed at her, and Augustine shot him a look.
“No,” she said to her sister, glaring at Roy once more. “There’s no one.”
“You’re not even trying.”
“You know I don’t date,” Augustine said. “We keep to ourselves. That’s the rule, remember?”
“We can still date,” Celestine said reasonably. “You can date. You just have to be careful, like with that guy. What was his name again?”
“What guy?” Augustine asked, genuinely baffled.
“The one you started seeing last year,” she said. “You liked him. He was tall. I remember you said he was tall.”
Augustine shrugged, knowing Celestine couldn’t see it. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”
“Huh.” Celestine paused. “You seemed to like him a lot. I can’t believe you don’t remember him.”
Augustine paused, thoroughly confused. She didn’t date. She never dated. She still fondly remembered the attractive man who’d delivered the shelving for her shop three years ago. There was no way she’d forget a whole ass boyfriend from just last year.
Then, suddenly, it became clear.
“Are you mixing me up with Maddy maybe?” Augustine asked. “She’s always got someone on the go.”
Celestine laughed. “Probably. That would make sense. Honestly, that girl’s trouble.”
“That’s why I keep her close.”
“Closer than you should, maybe."
“Celeste, we’ve spoken about this before—”
“I know, I know.” Celeste sighed. “I don’t agree, I think it’s a risk, but I know.”
“I worry about her. She’s only twenty-two and so impulsive.”
“I worry, too, but about everyone, including you. You should get out more,” Celestine added, fond but firm. Then, more worriedly, “Just . . . be careful. I don’t want to lose you. Any of you.”
Augustine’s throat tightened unexpectedly. She scratched Bird absently under the chin, losing herself momentarily in the solid, warm weight of him.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I always am.”
Celestine didn’t argue this time. “Call me if anything changes.”
“I will.”
They hung up, and Roy looked over from his chair. “So,” he said lightly. “In summary, the stars say you’re in danger, your sister thinks you need a social life, and Uranus is doing whatever the fuck it is that Uranus does.”
“Which isn’t much,” Augustine replied absently. “Uranus is basically a lifeless ice giant.”
“I’ve been on dates with men you could sum up in exactly the same way,” Roy returned with a grin, but Augustine didn’t smile back.
“Did you know a year on Uranus is equivalent to eighty-four years here?” she asked suddenly, and Roy blinked in surprise. “I mean, that’s a lifetime for some people.”
“Sure. For the lucky ones,” Roy remarked. “Some people don’t get a full Uranus year,” he added quietly. “Some people get much less than that. It’s not fair, but it happens.”
Augustine nodded.
“Which is why some people are able to make a fortune purporting to speak to the dead,” Roy went on. “They take advantage of grief. Take advantage of sorrow.”
“I never have,” Augustine argued automatically. “I would never do that.”
Roy nodded slowly. “I know. But all the same, maybe this customer of yours — the one who asked you to commune with the spirits — maybe he’s not out to get you, like your sisters seem to believe.
Maybe he’s just grieving. Maybe he’s just sad.
Maybe . . . he just wants to reconnect with someone he lost.”
That sad possibility had never even crossed her mind.
She’d been raised to always be on her guard.
To always expect the worst. That this man might be grieving — might just be wanting to speak one more time with someone he’d lost — made sense, and Augustine felt a sudden stab of guilt for the way she’d spoken to him in her shop.
She knew what it was to lose someone she loved. Knew what it was to grieve.
She could’ve been kinder to him. She could’ve been less wary.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “When he comes back—”
“If he comes back,” Roy corrected her. “He might’ve found himself another fake psychic witch to pretend to commune with the dead for him.”
“No.” Augustine shook her head. “No. He’ll come back. I told you, I can feel it. In my bones.”
Roy gave her a long look, and a flutter of something a little like anticipation, or maybe warning, slid down her spine.
“When he comes back,” she carried on, trying to ignore the feeling, “I’ll be nicer to him. I’ll stand in my protective circle and try to be more understanding.”
“Protective circle?” Roy repeated, raising an eyebrow at her, and Augustine flushed.
“Maddy did it, just to be on the safe side. It’s mainly salt, a little sage—”
Roy held up a hand though. “Thank you, but the only circles of salt I need are the ones that line the rim of a margarita. So, you’re going to be nice to this guy, and not instantly imagine he’s out to kill you in some Uranus inspired anti-witch rage?”
She nodded, her mind made up. Bird kneaded her stomach, utterly unconcerned with celestial warnings, witch hunters, or family expectations, while Augustine leaned back into the sofa and gazed at the ceiling.
Her skin was still prickling; unease sitting heavily in her throat.
She had the uncomfortable sense — again — that the universe was clearing its throat, wanting her to listen.
But this time, it sounded like it was about to say her name.