“Where’s your familiar?” he asks as he lets my waist go, taking a step back.
“She’s hunting,” I tell him and glance at the grandfather clock in the den. “She should be back soon.”
“What’s her name?” he asks with genuine interest as he and Whisper follow me.
I glance briefly over my shoulder before answering.
When I was young and eager to have a familiar of my own, my father taught Agatha and me that we could learn a lot about someone based on the relationship they have with their animal.
At first, we thought he simply meant the type of animal someone is fated to. His familiar was a sweet cottontail rabbit named Ash, and my father was one of the kindest men to ever live. It felt fitting.
My father was quick to explain what he actually meant was how a witch treats their familiar says a lot about the person they are—and especially how someone treats another witch’s familiar.
It was hard for either of us to grasp the concept of someone being cruel to any animal, much less their familiar. As I got older, it added to the confusion I have toward my mother and Agatha.
I’ve seen them prove love lives inside their souls, yet they are so stingy with it.
Shamefully, younger me would have been disgusted to be paired with a snake, but I couldn’t imagine my life without Hexate.
Archer mindlessly reaches down to pet Whisper as they walk side by side, and the soft smile he wears while waiting for my answer affirms that Archer is a very kind man himself.
“Hexate,” I answer, and look forward again. We’re only a few feet from the front door.
Once we get to it, I put my back to the wood, blocking the exit. From the smile he bites back, he’s clocking every move I make.
“She’s a prairie rattlesnake,” I offer. “She found me at the town market when I was twenty.”
“So, just to confirm,” he asks in a light tone, “You and Hexate have been together for…?”
A small smile breaks through at the charming way he rolls through an awkward situation. I’m interested to learn more about him, including his age.
“Seven years,” I answer dryly.
He laughs and slips his hands in his pockets, leaning against the stair bannister.
“Got it. It was almost ten years ago when Whisper found me on a hike with my twin sister,” he offers in response. “I was nineteen.”
The confirmation that the woman with him is his twin sister makes me greedy for any new bit of information, but I’m stuck on something else he said.
“You go on hikes?” I ask, genuine surprise dripping from my tone. Even in our dream state, when I couldn’t see his face, I never took him as the outdoorsy type.
Rowyn was right, he kind of looks like the universal, “bad boy” stereotype with his leather jackets, silver rings, and black boots. The ear piercings he has don’t surprise me, but not seeing any visible tattoos does. It would fit his entire vibe.
He laughs easily. “I do—it’s pretty common in Junimere.” My ears perk up at the new information.
Doing my best to not visibly react, I try to convince myself that it’s a coincidence that’s where Hexate is from.
I stopped believing in those the moment I stepped into Briarhollow.
“My sister and I loved anything that got us out of the house though,” he adds.
Crossing my feet and playing with the hem of my nightgown, I ask, “Where else have you been?”
He leans on the bannister, content to carry on our conversation. “Not a lot of places. Sybil and I always dreamed of traveling, but our parents like being home. This is the furthest I’ve been.”
“Same,” I admit. “I’m from Hemlocke, which isn’t far from here. Before Briarhollow, the furthest I went was New York City.”
“Wh—” Archer abruptly stops, turning back to the den area and standing straight.
