As I fall onto the stool behind the check-out counter, it dawns on me.
They remind me of starlight—those faint, flickering specks that appear in the earliest hours of morning. Subtle against the brightening sky. The kind you have to pay attention to in order to truly see.
Something content settles over me once I piece that together, and I’m more relaxed than I have been in days.
Now that I’ve seen her, I’m not interested in suppressing my dreamwalking abilities. I don’t care if I lose a year’s worth of sleep if it means being close to her again—and I get the idea that she’ll do whatever she can to avoid me now.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t notice Sybil walking up from one of the aisles until she slams a hand on the counter next to me.
Startled, I flinch in reaction to the loud, aggressive movement, but quickly notice she’s still in her trance-like state, shuffling her tarot deck. She’s been coming out of it more often over the last few days, but whatever it is she’s looking for, she hasn’t found.
“Bil,” I start slowly, not wanting to spook her while she’s in this state. “What’s go—”
“I’m late,” she cuts me off. Her hands pause and her wide eyes are glued to mine but she isn’t really seeing me. “Archer, I’m late.”
“Late for what?”
“I—I don’t know,” she says in a low voice, more to herself than to me, and scrunches her brows in confusion.
Just as suddenly, she stops and flips over the reversed Lovers, sliding it toward me.
Staring down at the card for a few seconds, I let out a dry laugh.
Imbalance in the relationship. Detached partner. And fear of commitment.
I slide the card back into her deck and watch as she quickly blinks a few times before meeting my eye again. This time, I’m positive it’s my sister in her most conscious state now. I’ve learned to not blur the lines when she’s in and out of a prophetic trance like this, so I offer her an affectionate smile and wait for her to talk first.
She looks around, gathering her bearings. From the direction she came from behind me, I’m guessing she was in her room—probably napping or reading when the magic took over.
After a minute, she asks, “Are you hungry? I think it’s time for dinner.”
My first instinct is to squint in confusion at her, wondering if it’s a coincidence that she’s worried about missing dinner after the woman excused herself for that reason earlier. Though, Sybil takes her routines very seriously—they help her keep some level of control when she’s having visions of this magnitude.
I mentally shake it off and nod, slipping my leather jacket back on. “Dinner sounds good. Let’s go.”
She smiles brightly—the most identical thing between us—and locks her arm with mine, chatting about the book she was reading while we walk to the Wolf & Flame Diner.
Chapter 23
Renata
Mindlessly, I move a piece of baked potato around my plate.
It’s not that I don’t like our dinner tonight. Quite the opposite, actually. Rowyn’s roasted chicken is a perfect mix of herbs—rosemary, thyme, sage and a few others I can pick up in the palate. But it’s the faint, floral notes of chamomile and lavender that adds to the richness and a little bit of magic to help us all sleep well tonight.
Somehow, she is perceptive when one of us needs it the most…
Usually me.
The lavender-honey tarts cooling on the counter are a dessert specially made for the Foxglove sisters, though it goes without saying.
If they weren’t Green Witches, I’d wonder if they knew what Rowyn was trying to accomplish with those crescent moon-shaped pastries. I’m positive they’re both aware of Rowyn’s goal to help ease some of their emotional turmoil as they continue to grieve their mother and grandmother. Both women passed away within the last ten years, but their mother Sienna’s death is still a fresh wound, only two years old.
The lavender to soothe their anxiety. Honey to bring a little bit of warmth into their souls. Grounding lemon zest and transformative violet petals. The secret ingredient is the hint of chamomile she addsto the flaky crust to represent the comfort of a mother. Nothing could replace the real thing for the sisters.
Rowyn always serves them in the waning moon state, never waxing, to promote emotional healing and surrendering.
“Are you not hungry?” Rowyn asks.
