Chapter 7
Selene
“No, that can’t be right.” I frown at my usually sensible best friend, waiting for her to admit she’s pulling my leg.
“I’m serious,” Cordelia says, leaning forward over the small metal table between us.
“Kendra filed the new employee paperwork with the mayor last week.” Her red-painted lips pull into a salacious grin.
“The new reporter is single, and young like us—not some ancient curmudgeon who thinks they should be able to land whoever they want just because they’re loaded. ”
I nearly spit out my coffee. “Isn’t most of your client base made up of older folks with deep pockets?”
“No.” She sniffs. “Fated Match doesn’t discriminate. We welcome clients of all backgrounds, and our lower tier packages are some of the most affordable out there. You know some clients actually move to Crystal Lake just to work with me, right?”
“Save me the sales pitch, I beg you.” Cordelia has been after me to sign up for her matchmaking service since the day we met, but I’m not interested.
Don’t get me wrong, I think the work she does is important.
It’s wonderful so many people find their true love, or loves, through her company, Fated Match, but I’d rather leave finding my soulmate up to, well, fate.
Not a magically superpowered database run by one of my closest friends.
My attitude rolls right off her. “One of these days you’ll let me work my magic on you.”
“Sure.” I roll my eyes and take another pull of my mocha.
“Who knows, maybe our newest resident will get your attention. Stars know the rest of the poor souls around here haven’t had any luck.”
I give her a flat stare. So what if I’ve not dated for a while? I wouldn’t be the first supernatural to decide to wait for their fated—admittedly, a string of bad dates quickly followed by a migraine after a particularly powerful vision helped lead me to that decision, but my point stands.
“Fine, be that way.” She huffs, tossing her glossy red hair over her shoulder.
“What’s Selene done now?” Dove asks, with a grin, taking the third seat at our usual table. I roll my eyes. Between the two of us, she knows Cordelia is far more likely to be the one causing trouble.
“Refusing to let me help her find the love of her life,” Cordelia replies dramatically before cracking up with an undignified snort of laughter.
“Nothing new then.” Dove shoots me a conspiratorial grin.
She’s also been reluctant to sign up for Fated Match’s service.
We both value our friendship with Cordelia too much to muddy the waters by hiring her to help us find love.
She’d put way too much pressure on herself—beneath the tough shell of her vibrant personality, she’s actually very sensitive.
We know Cordelia would be devastated if she couldn’t find us a match right away.
It’s better to keep business and friendship separate.
Well, mostly. The three of us still hang out here at Dove’s bakery, Sweet Dreams, a few mornings a week—her coffee and cakes are the best in town.
“Sorry I kept you waiting. I don’t know why we’re so busy this morning.” Dove tugs at the end of her pale blonde plait, and I notice the rosy flush to her usually pale-peach complexion that’s come from rushing around behind the counter.
“Don’t worry about it,” I reassure her.
At the same time, Cordelia says, “Well, I do.” We both look at her in confusion, and she throws up her manicured hands in frustration. “The new resident.” Still confused, I turn to Dove. She shrugs, and Cordelia releases a long-suffering sigh. “The single new resident.” Oh.
“Oh.” Could the new guy be my mate? Nope, I can’t think about that here.
Cordelia’s like a bloodhound for romance thanks to her magical speciality—she drew the lovers card at her Naming.
It’s not that I don’t want my best friends to know about my mate, but there’s no guarantee this new guy is the man from my vision.
If I tell them what’s going on and it turns out not to be him, I’ll be stuck dealing with their pitying looks until my mate does show up, and who knows how long that could take. No thanks.
“I don’t get it,” Dove’s light-brown eyes widen, her attention flitting between us like she might find the answer written on the front of my black roll-neck jumper or Cordelia’s teal silk blouse.
“She means people are making a point of being out and about this morning, hoping to catch a glimpse of the new guy.”
“Oh, right. Hunter ran into him yesterday at the supermarket.”
“And?” Cordelia asks, leaning forward. “What was he like?” She’s right to assume that’s not all Hunter had to say—he’s one of the chattier wolf shifters in town.
Dove shrugs. “Apparently, he’s hot, but not the most friendly.”
Cordelia waves her off. “He probably needs a minute to adjust to being in a small town where everyone knows each other instead of the anonymity he’s used to in London.”
“That’s a good point. Kendra wouldn’t hire someone with a bad attitude,” I agree.
“Anyway, what are your plans for the Halloween festival this year?” I ask Dove, changing the subject.
I remember what it’s like to be the new person in this town and, no matter how well-meaning, all the attention can be a bit much.
Dove’s face lights up. “There’s this flavour called pumpkin spice that humans really enjoy, and I’ve been experimenting with a few recipes. I’ve almost nailed it but the muffins are still missing something.” She shrugs, unconcerned. “I’ll figure it out.”
As supernaturals we have access to our own communication networks to help us stay hidden from humans.
Those who live among humans use the human versions too, they just have to be careful not to share anything online that could reveal our existence.
Rules for supes living in sanctuary towns like Crystal Lake are different.
It’s not only our magical abilities but our town that needs protecting.
The town council, town protection team, and the SIB agents assigned here, along with a few other higher-ups, have access to human networks from their own devices.
Other residents can access the human internet through the computers in the library, where traffic is monitored by a member of the protection team to make sure nobody shares anything that could give away our secrets.
Dove’s obviously started making use of the library computers if she’s found this strange new flavour.
“Everything you make is delicious. I’m sure the humans who come for the festival will love the spiced pumpkin.”
“Pumpkin spice,” she corrects gently.
“Right, sorry.” Sounds kind of gross to me. Who would want a spicy pumpkin? But if anyone can make such a thing edible, enjoyable even, it’s Dove.
“What about you? Have you and Gwyneth got your human-appropriate stock in?” Cordelia asks with a smirk.
I’m not remotely offended—the stock we sell every October is completely different to the enchanted clothing Threads of Magic is known for.
An ancient vampire on the town council used to live amongst humans, and when she came to Crystal Lake, she saw an opportunity for the town and its businesses to make money thanks to the humans’ annual Halloween traditions.
Every October the town wards that usually keep us hidden from the human world are lowered for the duration of the Halloween festival.
All sanctuary towns have wards woven together with spells for a multitude of things, including one of the strongest mind manipulation spells in existence.
Any human who hears about a sanctuary town immediately forgets everything they heard as soon as the conversation is over.
Humans who visit remember the fun they had but not the name or location of the town.
Thanks to the wards, they’re convinced they simply forgot and don’t find it suspicious.
When the town’s wards are lowered for the festival, any human who’s heard of Crystal Lake immediately remembers, and the humans who have spent time here before temporarily recall the location so they can return.
During the festival, the town’s flooded with humans who suddenly remember the name of the adorable place they had a wonderful holiday in.
Then, on the first of November, the wards are reinstated and the humans keep the fun memories they made here but forget the name and location of the town.
It’s all very clever. But with human tourists comes risk.
All residents and businesses must follow a revised set of rules while the wards are down.
At Threads of Magic, we take all our usual stock off the shop floor and turn into a costume shop like the humans have.
It’s silly but a lot of fun. We switch the shop’s stock over before the festival so the locals get first pick of the costumes.
While some of the supe residents can get away with passing their shifted forms off as costumes, everyone has to be careful not to look too realistic, so most folks buy from us.
“Nearly. We’ve made a lot of the luxury costumes, and we’re placing an order for the cheaper stuff this week.
” Gwyneth and I actually have a lot of fun making some of the human appropriate Halloween costumes.
Gwyn gets a real kick out of researching what costumes are popular with humans each year.
I’m glad she enjoys learning about human pop culture because it means I don’t have to deal with it—the human films she’s made me watch are bad enough.
They get so much wrong about us it’s honestly a little insulting.
For instance, why would any witch want to fly around on a broom?
Seems highly impractical if you ask me. “Speaking of, I should head over to open up the shop.” I drain what’s left of my mocha then stand, smoothing out the creases in my plaid tartan trousers.
Cordelia glances at the delicate gold watch on her wrist. “Me too,” she says brightly. “Who knows, maybe the new guy will stop by to sign up for Fated Match.”
I shake my head, chuckling at her overeagerness. “Maybe give him a chance to settle in.”
She gives an exaggerated pout. “Fine. Spoilsport. But if either one of you meets him, I expect a message in the group chat. There’s been a real shortage of gossip around here lately.”
“We will.” Dove’s assurance is enough to settle her, probably because of the three of us she’s most likely to meet him first. Most people aren’t going clothes shopping or signing up for matchmaking when they’ve just arrived in a new town, but stopping for a coffee?
The team at The Chronicle take turns doing drinks runs, so it’s likely he’ll end up over here sooner or later.
Personally, I’m desperately trying, and failing, not to get my hopes up that the new reporter could be my mate.
Not that I’ll go out of my way to track him down.
If he is my mate our paths will cross organically soon enough, and if he’s not, I won’t have wasted time running after a stranger who’s already going to have half the town hassling him.
Whoever the new resident turns out to be, chances are if he’s moved to a sanctuary town he’s been through something difficult and will need time to adjust to his new life here.
I’ve waited this long, what’s a few more days?
Luckily I’ve got plenty of work to keep my mind busy in the meantime.