Leo (Northern Ohio Shifters #5)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Cinnamon and woodsmoke drifted over the Festival of the Revel, wrapping Mira Winrow in a sweetness that made her ache for something she couldn’t quite name.

Her father, Gideon, had told her just yesterday that the festival wasn’t simply a stop as they made their way through Northern Ohio; it was a calling. He’d seen a flicker of the future in a vision, a path illuminated by the newly risen star Velastra, leading them here.

“We’re not just following the calendar,” he told her with a quiet voice, eyes distant like he was seeing the future right then. “Something is waiting at the festival, Mira. Something for you.”

When she’d asked him for clarification, he’d simply said that he only saw what he saw, that he never had any explanation for his visions. The only thing he knew for certain was that her future was in this place, and that’s why they’d come.

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that the star and the glimpse of her future were going to pan out into something.

But doubt lingered, curling in her chest like the thin wisps of smoke from the festival fires.

Was there really hope in Willow’s Crossing?

Was a star in the sky really going to somehow guide her to something more?

Their small group, the House of Winrow, moved across the country as they pleased.

Seven psychics traveled nomadically, following signs, dreams, and, apparently, mysterious stars.

They were family, but only Mira and her parents were related.

The others were bound by an ancient oath and as close as any natural-born family could be.

Her mother, Daphne, was the dream walker of the group, slipping effortlessly through the realm of sleep and dreams, able to interpret dreams for others.

Her gift was often a comfort to the members of the house, a quiet tether to the dream world, offering explanations for the times when dreams skewed into the strange and absurd, or even terrifying.

But Gideon held a different burden. He glimpsed the future, but it was always in pieces, fragments that were usually so fleeting he never truly knew what was coming until it happened. He always seemed to carry the burden of the weight of future secrets.

And then there was Mira.

She had no gifts whatsoever.

She couldn’t wander in dreams or see visions of the future. She could feel that there was something magical inside her, but it was buried under thick and unyielding silence.

Every time they were around other magical and supernatural people at events like this festival, she felt fresh hope, but always afterward renewed disappointment.

She’d been alive for twenty-five years. Thanks to the longevity of her supernatural nature, she still appeared to be eighteen and was what their kind referred to as eighteen-plus-seven.

Supernatural people—Wiccans, psychics, shifters, and others—aged one body year for every twelve that passed.

She wouldn’t technically be nineteen for another five years.

But all that meant to her really was that she was some sort of supernatural person without any kind of magical ability.

A mundane amongst the extraordinary.

Thursday morning, the day before the August full moon, had been a blur of activity as they’d rolled into the festival campground at dawn.

The festival had opened at noon and would run through Sunday night, celebrating Velastra, a star that was said to reveal secrets to those who sought to know the truth.

Tents and booths lined the walkways, a mixture of those who sold magical items and gifts for a price, as well as food, drinks, and games.

Mira carried a box that held an overly large crystal ball on an ornately carved stand.

Tamsin, their house’s only medium, used the crystal ball as a prop in the booth where she told the future to those willing to pay.

She didn’t need the crystal ball, but people seemed to think she was more authentic if she gazed into the ball instead of simply holding their hand.

As she made her way to their booth, from the RV she shared with her parents, she had to dodge children running amok and other vendors carrying their own wares.

Her mom stood near their tent, which was crafted from thick purple and blue fabric and lined with gold tassels. Mira passed by her with a smile and set the box on the velvet-draped table near the entrance of the booth.

Tamsin, who Mira considered to be an older sister even though they weren’t blood-related, shuffled a worn deck of regular playing cards from behind the table, her fingers moving with practiced ease.

“I don’t know why,” she said with a small smile as Mira took the ball out of the box and set it in the center of the table, “but I feel drawn to ordinary playing cards and not tarot cards for this festival.”

Mira shrugged with a smile. “I guess sometimes simple things can be the most rewarding.”

Tamsin nodded once, the cards flying between her hands like they had a mind of their own.

“I can read your future for you,” Tamsin offered.

“Hard pass,” Mira said. “The last time you tried to tell my future, you said a change was coming, and I got chemical burns on my scalp from hair dye, and my hair was purple for a week while it healed.”

Tamsin grinned sheepishly. “It was a change.”

“Sure,” Mira said, shaking her head. “But not the kind I was hoping for.”

She turned to leave and nearly ran into her mom.

“Are you all right?” Daphne asked.

She followed Mira out of the tent and back toward the RV. The campground was divided into the festival area and a roped-off clearing for travelers.

“Yeah, why?”

“You just seem kind of off.”

They stopped at the RV that belonged to their family, where her dad and Hollis, a psychic who could reveal a person's history through a personal object, were talking quietly. She stared at the two males for a moment and then looked at her mom.

“Dad said that my future was here, but he didn’t say in what form.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what does that even mean? My future is here. So…what? I’m going to finally come into my psychic powers, in Northern Ohio of all places? Or I’m going to find the man of my dreams here among the witches and wizards and humans?”

Daphne put her hand on Mira’s shoulder. “You know your father can only share what he sees; he can’t divine more than the supernatural world shares with him.”

“I know. It’s just frustrating.”

“I really don’t think you’ll come into your psychic powers at this point, honey. You’re twenty-five.”

“Eighteen plus seven.”

“Yes, yes,” Daphne said with a chuckle. “But you know what I mean. Psychics come into their powers at a young age, even younger than shifters shift or Wiccans find their power.”

Mira knew that. But there was always hope, wasn’t there?

“Then why are we here?” Mira asked.

“I don’t know the answer to that. But somehow, your future is tied to Velastra.”

Mira envied her family and the other house members. Their magic felt like a foreign language she was never going to master, no matter how much she craved it. It was hard as hell to be non-magical in a magical family.

A psychic who couldn’t predict rain while staring at a storm cloud.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky and the festival opened to a crowd of people, Mira returned to her duties and finished setting up the booth where Tamsin would give readings by crystal ball or playing cards.

Mira would sell magical artifacts they’d gathered in their travels, the kind that people who didn’t have magic liked to purchase: cut crystals, unique stones, amulets, statues, and bottles of blended powders to cure everything from insomnia to finding romance.

She stood behind the table and smiled at the patrons who milled by, some giggling as they teased each other about getting a reading from Tamsin or buying a stone for good luck.

There was definitely something about this place, but Mira just wasn’t sure what it was.

* * *

Later that evening, Mira stepped away from the booth to wander the festival, her mind on cotton candy and popcorn.

The festival was in full swing, people filling the aisles in both directions.

Music drifted in the air from the stage where a group played medieval instruments and sang about warriors of old and the damsels they rescued.

She turned at the end of the aisle and stared at the stage for a long moment, and then she glanced at the cotton candy and popcorn hanging in bags from a booth where a woman waved and invited her over for a treat.

But Mira suddenly wasn’t interested in a snack.

She headed down another aisle, some invisible tether drawing her forward until she stopped in front of a booth.

She faced it and lifted her gaze to the wooden sign hanging over the booth.

Cleveland Wiccan Coven.

Curiosity filled her, and something right settled over her. She inhaled and picked up the sweet and spicy aromas of sage, lavender, and beeswax.

“Hello,” a young woman with warm eyes and golden-blonde hair said. “Are you enjoying the festival?”

“Yes,” Mira said, dropping her gaze to her. “I’m looking for the Corners of your coven. Are they here? Are you one of them?”

The woman’s eyes flickered with curiosity. “The Corners don’t come to this festival. They’re at the Cleveland Mother Earth Store.”

“Thanks.”

“Is there a reason you need a Corner specifically?” she asked.

What Mira wanted to say was that she knew Corners were the most powerful in the coven, but she didn’t want to insult the females in the booth. “I just think that I need the help of a Corner.”

“Well, if you change your mind, my coven members or I would be happy to help.”

“Thank you,” Mira said.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Good luck to you.”

Mira nodded and strode away, entirely forgetting about cotton candy and popcorn as she walked back to her house’s booth.

Behind the thick fabric, she used her phone to locate the store on the map and to check their hours.

It was too late to go tonight, so she’d go tomorrow before the festival opened for its second day.

She’d ask the Corners to help her divine if her powers would ever reveal themselves. Because for the first time in her life, Mira wondered if she was truly a psychic or if she was something else entirely.

Glancing up at the night sky, she located Velastra, beaming brightly among the inky blackness like a beacon, a lighthouse for an unseen shore.

Her heart beat with a fragile hope.

Maybe she would find what she was looking for.

Perhaps her future was truly here in Northern Ohio.