Ladybug sighed, shrugging blithely at Holt. “I mean $3000. Not a penny less.”
They left a short while later, Holt making arrangements to pick up the creepy carousel horse later that week. The sky had already darkened, and the moon shone overhead as he drove Harper around the block.
“Do you want to go in the front or the back?”
“Um, the back, I guess. I have to explore the front in the afternoon when I can actually see where I’m going. Is it really the front door?”
“It is,” he confirmed. “There is a flagstone path along the edge of the garden that leads right out on the sidewalk. It’s easy to miss if you don’t know what you’re looking for.”
“What are you going to do with that creepy horse?”
“Well, now I’m going to have to find a millionaire to buy it,” he grumbled. “And it’s not a horse. It’s a kelpie. A very old kelpie. It’s missing its trammel, so it was bound in those bones. I don’t know how it got frozen like that, though. I have to do some research before we put it on the auction. I don’t need to be sued because some hapless idiot gets eaten in their living room when it comes back to life in six months.”
They arrived at the curb outside her mother’s house, but Harper made no move to get out. Her head whipped around to the familiar, mouth dropping open. She pulled back his sleeve, ignoring his protest, when she held his hand up to the moonlight. Bone white, well-shaped, with long fingers. His tendons stood out in relief, sinuous and strong, capped by long, pointed black lacquered claws.
“It’s you! From-from the auction!”
His eyes narrowed for the space of a heartbeat before his mouth split into a wide, sharp-toothed grin, and she understood why he was never featured on camera. He was attractive but unmistakablyother, and humans would likely find his strange intensity and sharp teeth and claws off-putting.
“The Cat and Crow?” Holt nearly purred. “I’m one of the owners. You’ve watched our auctions?”
“I have! I watch it every week. Wait, who is that witch? Arabeth? Do you only work together?”
Holt rolled his eyes, and Harper wondered if he were in his other, four-legged form, he might hiss. “Bethany,“ he enunciated derisively. “She’s the one who abandoned her path. We no longer have a witch and familiar relationship. Purely co-owners. Although she’s been talking about moving out west, so I might be buying her out. Why, do you want a job?”
“Yes!” she shouted, faltering a moment later. “Wait, I mean, I don’t know. Yes, I do. But the shop is in Bridgeton, right? That’s a long train ride for a part-time job. I really love the shop, though. I mean, what I’ve seen online.”
“Well, if you’re serious, let me get back to you. I might have some remote work if you think you would be interested. It’s nothing fun, I’ll warn you now. Data entry, organizing spreadsheets, pricing research. Stuff like that. But you’ll have to come out and visit us in person. All we feature on the auction are the curios. We keep a well-stocked supply of ritual aids and altar tools. Books on every discipline. A fine way for a solitary witch to continue her education.”
Harper swallowed, nodding.Who needs the Collegium?She could work each day from the tea shop, she realized. Or, work for a few hours each morning here in her cottage, treating herself to lunch at Azathé to study her tea leaves.The promise of a potential new coven and now maybe even a job. You ought to answer the door for strange men more often. Who knows, maybe he’ll want you on full-time. You might be able to get a little apartment in Bridgeton, something close to the shop so that you can walk. You could come back to Cambric Creek every week on your day off to visit Morgan and read at the tea shop.
“What did you think of her? She’s a good egg, right?”
Harper shook herself back to attention. “Ladybug? Totally, she seems super sweet. Passes the vibe check. And she really knows her stuff. The coven is dumb to have let her go.”
“She is an incredibly gifted witch,” he agreed. “Not great at the social aspect, but that’s window dressing. The courage of one’s convictions is more important than their ability to engage in pointless small talk.”
Harper nodded slowly, and he flashed her another grin.
“You may not have any talent for divination, Harper, but I do. Change is coming. Your skill will be valuable when it does.”
“Do-do you really think I have a skill? I can’t even make my sister do my bidding, and she’s seven years younger than me.”
Holt shrugged as she opened the car door, his white canines winking in the moonlight.
“I suppose you’ll never find out unless you try.”
OOTD:Blackandgreyjumper dress with rabbit head buttons. Cap sleeve tee with ribbon trim. Grey striped knee socks and lug-sole loafers. Grey satin ribbon through braid and leaping hare ear cuff.
She got her chance at the end of the same month. It happened, as so many things did, when she stumbled upon the rest of the porn. Harper wasn’t sure why she was surprised. After all, any literary collection of worth possessed at least one or two titles of erotica.
This, however, she thought, gazing at the shelves before her, was borderline excessive.Excessive maybe, but entirely appreciated.Making a mental note of where the books were located, she pulled a tarot deck from one of the shelves. She already had two tarot books on her table waiting for her and had only gotten up to look for an interesting deck to aid in her studies.
She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting as she opened the deck, shuffling the cards with her eyes closed. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but the images that met her eyes when they opened were not it.But again, appreciated. The staid, familiar illustration style was the same as the Rider Waite deck, but those characters had never seemed this scandalous before.
The Three of Cups — an enthusiastic threesome. The Empress — a regal figure on her throne, her pomegranate-bedecked robe thrown open and her legs spread wide as several attendants of various gender and species licked her. The One of Wands – a woman on her knees, fellating a single man. The Six of Wands – the same woman, still on her knees, sinking down onto a veined dildo, holding another to her lips, with the remaining four scattered around her. Harper nearly swooned.
Depression was fickle and tricksy, and when it held her in its grip, all she wanted to do was sleep until she practically forgot her own name.But.The potions and tinctures and teas from the awkward witch’s kitchen were working. She rose each day with more energy, a little more enthusiastic to be out of bed at all, and most importantly, she had begun to see the difference between her depression and her grief.
