I didn’t sense she was struggling so greatly with her magic. It has noticeably become more erratic lately, but she must have been downplaying how intensely it was affecting her to save our mother’s peace of mind. Despite that, I do trust her abilities and her.
Sybil is as protective of me as I am of her—she’d never willingly put either of us in harm’s way.
She’s right, I need to learn what happened all those years ago.
“One week,” I compromise. “We stay for one week, then regroup to decide our next course of action.”
“Deal,” she agrees. A second later, the far away expression reaches her eyes and she’s back in her trance-like state.
Turning on her heel, she bounds up the stairs and walks straight into the atrium. With a sigh, I follow behind her, barely stopping in time to not trample her.
“What thefu—”
“There,” she says and points to the desk in the middle of the room.
My gaze follows hers, finding an older man with gray hair and a deep, mahogany complexion. His glasses are perched on his nose while he goes over a section in a tome with a patron. The librarian looks fully immersed in the conversation until Sybil’s quiet declaration.
Slowly, he lifts his head and smiles when he sees us. It would be creepy if I didn’t recognize that expression as one of perception—somehow knowing his anticipated guests have shown up.
He turns to the patron he’s helping and quietly whispers something before patting his shoulder. Then his attention is back on us as he quickly saunters toward us.
Reaching out his hand toward Sybil, he smiles warmly at her as she clumsily shakes his hand in greeting.
Turning his attention to me, he tilts his head and offers me his hand. “You here for the job?”
Taking his hand, my brows flick up in surprise. “You’re hiring?”
He admits, “There’s always an opening for a Vexley witch, boy.” He drops my hand and says, “I wondered how long it would take you to show up.”
Chapter 14
Renata
After the incident in my bedroom a few nights ago, Clementine sweetly insisted that we take a few more days to decompress at the Dreaming Willow before venturing into town.
Her actual words were, “take some more time to chill the fuck out.” Clover nor Rowyn found her cursing as entertaining as I did. Though I caught Rowyn’s smile peeking through.
Considering Clementine was the most excited for the trip, it was a sweet gesture, and one I easily took her up on.
Even with Rowyn’s grandfather, Gale, helping us, we knew we needed to pick out some things ourselves.
Being a Blackthorn witch of any type of magic is a nerve-wracking experience, so I doubt anyone has wondered why I’ve been so reluctant to visit. However, it’s curious why the eldest Foxglove sister has been just as hesitant. Her magic hasn’t adjusted to being at the Dreaming Willow Inn. There’s an awkwardness that overcomes easy-going and cheerful Clover any time it’s mentioned. Even Clementine shrinks into herself at the topic.
Last night, I asked Rowyn to stop bringing it up. For now.
It’s clearly not a conversation that can be avoided forever. I know how hard it can be to talk about something as personal as ourrelationship to our magic—even with coven members. We’ve grown comfortable with each other over the last couple of weeks but we are still in the early stages of learning about everyone. I don’t want to push any of these women too hard and lose the coven right as I am learning to be in one.
Of course, Rowyn was the least nervous, having grown up here. We followed her as she flitted from shop to shop, talking with town members and asking about kids she babysat for.
She steered clear of Mercurial Lane, where the four apothecaries and a healing clinic are located. Rowyn’s maternal side owns a tea shop that focuses on mental health elixirs and potions, so I assume it’s down that road.
Truthfully, I would love to see it. I’ve never heard of such a business. We have access to mental health services, and many witches go to human doctors for medical help, like anti-depressants or chemotherapy. Our magic can’t cure everything, and everoot is only good for magical ailments.
I won’t pressure Rowyn to take me. Not when she subtly peeks around every corner and practically runs across Mercurial Lane whenever we pass it.
It’s still a mystery what happened with her sister.
Just like with Clover, I don’t push the subject. No one would describe me as an open book, so I won’t judge them for needing time to figure out their own shit.
