Chapter Fourteen #2
“That sounds delicious.” Juniper smiled, and the knot in my stomach loosened a fraction of an inch. “I’ll take one, please.”
“Of course. Let me get that wrapped up for you.”
I grabbed some parchment paper from beneath the counter, busying myself with preparing Juniper’s pastry and subtly avoiding eye contact.
On the surface, I liked Juniper. She’d been sweet and kind to me, but her nervousness – and sometimes outright disdain – around Rowena always made my own anxiety flare up. It was an ugly, twisted reminder that the witch I was falling for was an outcast. And I didn’t even know why.
“Hey Nettie?”
My head shot up, and I nearly bumped it on the glass at the top of the display case.
“Yes?” I could feel the blood pounding in my ears.
“Just…” Juniper let out a long, deep sigh, adjusting the large tote bag hanging over her shoulder. She leaned closer, as if telling me a dire secret. “Be careful, okay?”
“With what?” I tried my best to look innocent, but I could feel my face was on fire.
“Well… with… Rowena. Just… be careful around her.”
“Why?”
Oh gods, here it is. Was Juniper finally going to tell me why Rowena was an outcast? Every last bit of me begged to know.
“It’s just… she’s…” Juniper fumbled over her words, biting her upper lip as she struggled to finish her sentence. “…she’s dangerous, okay? Try not to be around her alone outside of café hours. If you can avoid it.”
Dangerous?
But how? Why!?
I nodded, trying to appear calm even though my brain was as turbulent as a winter storm. “Uh, okay. I will.”
What the hell else am I supposed to say?! Like always, I was too scared to pry further. I didn’t ask any more questions. I had no idea if my attraction to Rowena was apparent to the rest of Wisteria Grove, but I certainly couldn’t tell Juniper I was falling for the herbalist witch.
“Awesome.” Juniper looked relieved, and I felt like I was about to vomit. “Anyway, I hope you have a good afternoon, Nettie. I’ll see you around.”
I stumbled blindly across the café once Juniper left, falling dejectedly into my high-backed chair.
I tried taking another sip of my coffee, but it was no longer hot, and it suddenly tasted more bitter than usual.
I dumped the rest of it in the sink, which made Mavro squeak angrily at me.
He didn’t like us wasting the coffee and tea he worked so hard to make.
“I’m sorry, buddy…” I froze, fumbling with the mug in my hands. “I shouldn’t have dumped the coffee like that. I just… I’ll be right back.”
Gods, I’m going to be sick.
I was hunched near the fire, with my cloak wrapped tightly around myself and my eyes squeezed shut to force out the nausea, when Rowena arrived back inside.
“Sorry about that,” Rowena apologized. I opened my eyes and turned around, watching her brushing her palms against the side of her dress. “So ironic that we chloromancers have to deal with weeds… uh, Nettie, are you okay?”
I shuddered as she walked toward me, black boots clicking on the hardwood. She crouched down so we were at eye level, placing a hand on my shoulder.
Just like she always did. Because she was a sweet, comforting person.
Be careful around her. She’s dangerous.
She’s dangerous. Those two words repeated in my mind, over and over again. I couldn’t make them make sense.
“Yeah…” I sighed. “I’m fine. Just… suddenly feeling a bit ill.”
“You cold?” Rowena asked, rubbing my shoulder. “You’re two feet away from the fire, and you’re wrapped up in your cloak like a caterpillar.”
That comparison made me giggle – a tiny crack in my mounting anxiety. I nodded, feeding into the lie. “Yes. I’m cold.”
“Well here…” Rowena sat down, crossing her legs in front of her, and pulled me into a hug. “Let me warm you up.”
She felt so good. Her soft skin, her sweet smile, and the floral scent of her perfume lulled me into a trance. It made me feel safe.
But it also made me feel sick. Was our budding relationship really that fragile? There we were, hugging in front of the fireplace like we were the only two women in the world, oblivious to the fact our secrets could destroy us both.
I had no right to be panicking. Juniper may have said Rowena was dangerous, but I was, too.
I was one bad full moon away from ruining everything we had.
“Want me to make you some coffee?” Rowena asked. I remembered the look on Mavro’s face a few minutes earlier when I dumped my mug down the sink, and my stomach did a backflip.
“Um, no thanks. I’m good.”
Rowena grunted as she removed her arms from around my trembling form and rose to her feet. “Well, I’m going to start prepping for closing. Stay here by the fire as long as you need.”
She walked away, fetching a damp cloth from the cupboard and wiping down the countertops like she did every afternoon.
I needed to get up. I was Rowena’s employee, and I needed to help her close the shop.
But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. All I could do was stare blankly into the fire, watching the flames waver and flicker and dance until they were thoroughly seared into my vision, lingering even when I closed my eyes.
The whole town acted like Rowena was a monster.
But they have no idea. I thought as I pulled my hood over my head. My anxiety was peaking – my ears and tail could pop out at any moment.
They have no idea who the real monster is.
Nighttime in my little cottage was quiet.
As usual, I was perched against the far wall, opposite Rowena’s cottage, with a book in hand and Aria curled up on my shoulder.
My faerie fire lantern glowed a soft baby blue as I traced my fingers over the illustrated cover of Mystical Magick .
The inky artwork depicted an intricate pentagram with various elemental spirits at each point.
I’d spent thirty minutes reading a chapter dedicated solely to the symbol’s history.
Reading books from the general store every night had taught me so much about witches and their beliefs.
I swore the bit of witch blood within me stirred and hummed every time I turned the page.
It would take a long time to uncover the truth of my ancestry, but for now, I was content to explore it through books.
Normally, reading relaxed me. It let my ever-boiling mind slow to a simmer as I wound down from my busy days at the café. Sometimes, I fell asleep with a book splayed open in my lap.
But tonight? I struggled to focus. It had taken me half an hour to read the pentagram chapter, even though it was only eight pages long. My mind kept wandering off the page as Juniper’s words burned into my brain like hot coals.
She’s dangerous.
I turned to chapter three, relieved to be starting a fresh topic. Hopefully, like with the chapter on the pentagram, it would keep my mind occupied enough for my anxiety to settle.
Then I read the chapter title: A Garden Witch’s Guide to Herbalism , and Rowena shot back to the forefront of my mind.
Goddammit. I slammed the book shut with a soft, papery thud.
Maybe reading about witches to distract myself from obsessing over one isn’t such a good idea.
But I had little else to do within the four small, cramped walls of my cottage.
I’d made a few upgrades since the pumpkin carving contest, including a thin mattress pad, a cheap shelving unit with two levels, and even a little dollhouse bed for Aria.
But I was running low on groceries, and I’d already read the three other books stacked in a pile next to my makeshift bed.
I sighed, mentally scolding myself for not stopping at the general store and picking up another book to read. Something that wasn’t about witches.
I guess I could just go to sleep. But my brain recoiled at the thought. As usual, I was tired, but it was still so damn early. The sun had set only an hour ago, and as a werewolf I was still used to being up late into the night.
But I had nothing else to do. So, I hunkered down, gave Aria a goodnight pat as she settled into her doll bed, and closed my eyes.
Ten minutes passed. It was eerily silent outside that night – I’d left my window cracked as I always did, and the usual sounds of animals screeching and wild elementals chittering were absent. I couldn’t even hear the faint howls of the werewolf pack in the distance.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
But the silence meant it was easy to pick up on the sound of a screen door slamming, followed by a deep male voice.
I shot up out of bed, pushing my blanket off my chest.
I knew that voice.
It was the same man that had been outside Rowena’s cottage a few days earlier.
Rowena’s voice quickly followed. Like last time, they spoke in nervous, hushed tones, as if they were afraid someone would hear them.
Which was absurd, since Rowena’s and my homes were far away from the others. Our cottages nearly touched the border between Wisteria Grove and the local werewolf pack’s territory.
Unless Rowena was afraid of me hearing them.
I stood up, pacing slowly toward the cracked window on the opposite side of the house. This time, I couldn’t give Rowena the right to privacy. Not after what Juniper said to me earlier that day.
If Rowena truly was dangerous, I needed to know why.
I reached the window, pressing my sharp fingernails against the glass. It was cool and frosty to the touch, the slightest bit of condensation dampening my fingertips. The voices were still hushed and faint, but I was able to pick out a few details of their conversation.
The man wasn’t from Wisteria Grove. He also wasn’t a witch.
And he definitely wasn’t supposed to be here.
But who is he?
I had to choose my next move carefully. I couldn’t simply march over there and intrude on their conversation, demanding to know what deep, dark secrets Rowena held. Especially now I knew she was – I gulped – dangerous .
It was still a hard concept to fathom. All I could think about was those big brown eyes, her soft little laugh, and the way she’d hugged me next to the fire. It lulled me into disbelief. Denial. She couldn’t possibly be dangerous.