“I’d not thought of it like that,” I admit. “What do you think of the festival? It sounds fun, but doesn’t inviting humans into town go against everything a sanctuary town stands for?”
“Who’s asking? You or the hotshot journalist.”
“A hotshot? Nobody’s called me that before.” I laugh—I’ve done that a lot today, more than I have in a long time. It’s not news to me that Selene’s kind, patient, and beautiful, but through spending the day with her I’ve discovered she’s also astute and has a dry sense of humour too.
“Not that you know of,” she teases. “But I hate to break it to you, Golden Boy, you were the talk of the town the day you arrived. Everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of the big city reporter who made the move to our little town.”
“Really? And what did you think?”
“Honestly?” she asks, wincing. I nod. “Well, I was curious, but not nosy enough to actively seek you out. I knew we’d cross paths eventually—it’s almost inevitable in a town this size.” She shrugs. “Outside of my friends and family, I pretty much keep to myself.”
“Why?”
“Habit, I guess.” At my questioning look, she elaborates. “You remember me telling you how some witches approve of certain gifts more than others?” I bob my head in confirmation.
Of courseI remember. I’ve been fastidiously collecting every detail I can about Selene, weaving each thread of information together to form the tapestry of who she is. I can’t explain it, but I know this woman is special.
“OK, well every witch has something called a Naming ceremony. The only human thing I can think to compare it to is a baptism, but even that doesn’t quite fit. It’s called the Naming for two reasons—first, it’s when a witch’s parents announce the name of their child. Second, and most importantly, it’s when a tarot card is drawn and the witch’s future magical speciality is revealed or, well, named.”
“So, at your Naming, you got a bad card?”
“There are no bad cards, just idiots who can’t see past their own prejudices.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Her anger deflates as quickly as it arrived. “It’s OK. You’re still learning about all this.” She sighs. “The card drawn for me was The Moon, meaning I have a gift for divination and insight.”
A bulb flickers on in my head. “That’s why Hux said we’d make a good team.”
She blushes. “Yeah.” Selene clears her throat, fiddling with the long sleeves of her dress. “Anyway, while it’s not at the top of the list of cards certain small-minded but loud members of the witch community have deemed undesirable, even evil, it’s still on the list. The only reason moon witches don’t get as much grief as someone with The Tower, The Devil, or Death cards is because only a moon witch can successfully perform the Naming ceremony.”
“So those arseholes need you even if they don’t like it.”
“Yep.” She smiles smugly. “And we make them work for it too. Any moon witch who performs a Naming ceremony is entitled to a percentage of the child’s family’s income. Most of the time we waive the fee, but when the elite, who spend the rest of their time spouting a load of hate, come looking for a favour? You bet your arse we charge them.”
“Serves them right.” It’s the least those witches deserve for making anyone feel bad about themselves for something they have no control over.
“The attitude towards my magic is actually why I followed my sister here. She told me Crystal Lake was different.”
“And is it?” I swear to God if anyone in this town has made Selene feel bad about herself because of the kind of magic she has, heads will fucking roll.
“Mostly, yeah. I’ve never felt safer than I do here. But old habits die hard. There’s only so many times you can be told who you are isn’t good enough before you start to believe it.”
“Hey.” Gently, I place my hand over hers, waiting for her to look me in the eye. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re perfect.”
She gives me a watery smile. “It’s worth more than you think. Thank you.” Selene flips her hand so it’s holing mine, and straightens her spine. “Listen, Jared, there’s something I should tell?—”
“Can I get you two anything else? The spiced peach pie is to die for,” our server says.
Cursing their timing, I force a polite smile onto my face. “I’m all good. Do you want anything?” I ask Selene, irrationally upset when she tugs her hand from mine.
“I’m full. Could we just get the bill, please?”
“Sure thing, I’ll be right back.”
The server scuttles off, and I scowl when Selene reaches for her handbag. “I know you’re not trying to split the bill with me.”
She freezes like a deer caught in headlights. “I’m not?” she squeaks.
