My taut muscles loosen once I see Gale’s aged face as he steps out of the blinding sunlight. I’m not sure how to explain it, but there’s been a sense of anticipation since we stepped foot into town. It might just be waiting for Sybil’s prophecy to come to fruition. It feels like something else—connected but more focused on me, rather than us.
Regardless of how much Sybil may hate this job, she’s quickly grown attached to the older Divination Witch and his grandfatherly acceptance of us. Someone would have to drag her out of here kicking and screaming to get her to quit.
“Hello, dear,” Gale greets her gently with a kiss on her temple. She smiles at him before dropping her eyes back to the check-in book she is organizing. “How are you feeling today?”
She lifts a shoulder and blinks a few times. Whatever fog is over her mind is too thick to come out of at this moment, so she doesn’t answer. He isn’t put off by it, and instead, turns toward me.
“Archer, you know you’re off today, right?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice. Neither of us are surprised I’m here.
“Not much to do in this town,” I offer easily with a smirk.
He rolls his eyes and takes the stool next to Sybil. “There’s plenty to do if you ever left this library, boy. There’s even a coven of new, young witches you could run into.”
At the Dreaming Willow Inn, goes unsaid.
Lifting my gaze, I shake my head and try to bite back a chuckle. “Not interested in a partner right now.”
Though something in the back of my mind wakes up at the suggestion. A part of me that is curious aboutthis new coven.
I don’t want to be distracted. Not when I’m learning more about my family history than I ever thought was possible, and I don’t want to bring any attention to myself. I’m not wholly convinced that Barrett was the true cause of the curse, but that’s mostly from unfounded hope.
Hope that my ancestor wasn’t truly a cruel, jealous man like the stories paint him to be.
I’ve already decided I’m going to find the faceless woman after I get more answers and guide Sybil through her vision. I don’t know how it’s possible, but I’ll study scrying rituals next.
“Didn’t say anything about that,” he says in a smug tone, “but you let me know if you change your mind.” He glances at Sybil quickly. “Either of you. I can introduce you to my granddaughter, Rowyn, if you want a friend your age.”
Sybil murmurs, “We’ve never had a lot of friends our age, and we’re doing fine.”
I stare at her in silence for a long moment, thinking back to our school years. In many ways, the residents of magical towns are much more tolerant than other places of the world. However, kids will always be kids. The same sense of curiosity that is found in them is often met with their fear of something—or someone—different, and Divination Witches are misunderstood, almost as much as Gray Witches.
Sybil’s pattern of zoning out in the middle of conversations, only to offer a cryptic warning seconds later, never set her up for success in the friends department.
Not that I had any more luck than her. I was the protective brother who put Sybil’s wellbeing before anyone else, but my magic is even less understood than hers. While it might freak someone out to receive an unsolicited fortune, it’s expected for a Divination Witch.
No one enjoys not having control over their emotions, and they never want to believe me when I promise that I don’t use my magic without consent.
Other than our younger siblings, Sybil and I were always drawn to the older witches in our community—people with more life experience to understand the natural way our magic progresses. When an elderly couple of Divination Witches moved to Junimere about fifteen years ago, we were finally able to receive the direction we craved that wasn’t available to us—not that our parents didn’t try.
Gale has supplemented that for us since we first arrived in Briarhollow, and neither of us are unhappy with the amount of time we’re spending with him and the peace of the library.
“I’d never set either of you in harm’s way,” Gale gently insists. “It is your choice—just know that the door is always open if you so desire.”
Sybil nods, but neither of us say anything else.
Maybe friends would be good. I’ll talk to her about it when she’s able to pull through the consciousness of her mind to discuss it like a team.
He assesses us for a few moments before changing the subject. “Well, I know I just got here, but you can’t blame an old man for being hungry.”
Chuckling, I push away from the counter.
“Lunch?” Sybil asks, fully coming out of her trance at the mention of food. “I can run to the diner!”
Gale laughs and slips some cash into her hand. She tries to push it away but he doesn’t let her, insisting on feeding us almost every day. With a sweet smile, she rolls her eyes and jogs toward the door.
“Nothing gets that girl back to her right mind like the mention of a meal,” Gale jokes. I laugh along, slightly uneasy that we’re talking about her prophetic trances for the first time. Especially when she isn’t around.
Considering he’s the same type of witch as us, I’m not surprised Gale recognized the signs within a few days. The magnitude of Sybil’s magic can be shocking to others, even Divination Witches, and this is the first time he’s actually broached the subject.
