Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
“The woman at the coroner’s office.”
“Yeah. She couldn’t pull the files, but she did allude to something being really off in the way these deaths were labeled overdoses when the actual findings were inconclusive as she put it.”
“What actually killed these people?”
“The bodies aged rapidly from the inside out. She said a few were even rotten, like their guts were soup.”
My eyes widen. “Oh, fuck.”
“You know what could do that?”
“Yeah. There is only one thing that can age a person while causing them to rot from the inside.”
“What is it?”
“Demonic possession.”
“Hi, welcome to The Crystal Key,” the shop owner says as Devon and I walk in. I spin the GPS bracelet around on my wrist as I enter the store. It smells wonderful in here, and the realization that I have Xavier’s credit card makes me feel like a kid in a candy store.
Yes, Xavier encouraged me to embrace who I am, but I’m still a little weary of crossing the line. Though I think he knows how cornered I am, but I can’t decide if that was his goal. Theo said it just last night that he doesn’t like how close Xavier is getting to me, making it seem like he’s worried about his brother letting his guard down.
They both know what I’m capable of…especially considering how Xavier’s maker was killed.
“Hi,” I reply back to the owner.
“Are you looking for anything in particular?” she asks, looking up from behind the counter. We’re several blocks away from the center of downtown Charlotte, and there are a few other shoppers in this store.
“Herbs and crystals,” I tell her. “Which I see plenty of.”
The owner chuckles as she motions to a wall full of shelves holding various herbs. “Let me know if you need any help.”
“Thanks,” I tell her and slowly make my way through the store.
“What would happen if I bought a bunch of stuff and tried to do my own spell?” Devon asks, picking up a premade spell jar for luck.
“Probably nothing,” I chide. “Though really, I don’t know. Want to find out?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Kind of.”
I laugh. “Then try it. Just don’t do anything that borders on black magic.”
The new wave of acceptance for anything dealing with the occult has made me wonder if witches would be more likely to come out. I’ve quietly sat back listening to hunters talk about the witches with big social media followings, wondering if they’re real witches—aka a threat—or just people who know a little about a lot of things, making them able to tap into some of the natural powers the earth has to offer us.
“Once Antonio told me about a theory that people who are really intuitive or lucky like that have witch blood in their family line somewhere. So they’d be able to burn herbs, make a spell jar, and read tarot cards with accuracy but they can’t conjure energy or cast a sleeping spell. Makes sense, I suppose.”
“Yeah, it does. If magic is passed genetically, then a witch and a non-witch having a child wouldn’t guarantee a magical child, right?”
“Right. And with the way witches were persecuted over the years, I can see people hiding who they are and blending in with the normies.”
“That’s why you want to find your family,” Devon says quietly. We’re standing by the display of herbs. They’re all organized alphabetically, and I go down the line, grabbing what I need to make a vanquishing potion. “Because they can do the type of magic you can do.”
“Yeah. And more.”
Devon steps in close, hips brushing against mine. Right away, warmth goes through me and I notice everything about him. How good he smells, the soft whoosh of his breath going in and out of his lungs, and how his dark brown hair is getting to the point of needing to be cut because it’s falling just slightly in his face and it takes everything inside me not to brush it back.
“What do you think she’d do if you made one of those energy ball things?” He motions with his head in the direction of the shopkeeper. “Kick you out or bring you in for Friday night’s featured guest?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I really do think there are enough people open and accepting of magic they’d be curious and impressed, but then maybe scared once they realize we can’t be controlled.”
“You’re right on that. People fear what they can’t control.”
“That’s the whole reason witches were burned all those years ago. Men couldn’t stand the idea of women having power.” We keep shopping, and I leave the store with two full bags of magical supplies. Then we get lunch, sitting outside and enjoying the sun as we eat.
“You can’t sit outside like this in Europe and enjoy food if you’re a vampire,” Devon notes, dipping a piece of bread in oil.