‘I don’t want to go in there,’ I said, taking a large step backwards until I blocked her way to the door. The whole shop was vibrating, and not in a good way. ‘And I don’t think you should either.’
‘Well, that’s too bad because I am going in,’ Lydia replied. ‘You can wait outside if you want.’
Her eyes glittered, defiant, as though there was something inside her desperate to get out. Whatever it was, she couldn’tpossibly be as desperate to poke around some knock-off magic shop as I was to get away from the place. Something about the situation felt incredibly off but I couldn’t say what.
‘Whoever is running this place is a scam artist,’ I told her, searching through the window for signs of life. ‘There’s no way they could be a real witch. It’s just some charlatan selling overpriced junk to tourists. You don’t need anything they have.’
‘Easy for you to say.’
The look on her face was one I’d seen before, stubborn and determined, otherwise known as textbook Lydia Powell.
‘I’ve been reading a bunch of Wicca subreddits and everyone says this is one of the best magic shops in America. You might be the onlynaturalsuper-mega witch around but that doesn’t mean you’re the only person practising witchcraft, you know. There are plenty of folks out there who dedicate their whole lives to attain a fraction of the magic you have and they need places like this.’
‘For what?’ I challenged her. ‘To buy overpriced candles and fake crystals? Whoever is peddling this stuff is taking advantage of those people.’
‘This is why I didn’t tell you where we were going,’ Lydia replied, distinctly disappointed. ‘I knew you’d look down on it. Just because I’m not destined to inherit the same magic as you, it doesn’t mean I can’t learn some tricks to help you out.’
Behind her determination and the sullen tilt of her head, I knew she truly wanted to help. And there was something else, not just a genuine desire to be by my side when I needed her the most but an equally urgent need to find a place she felt like she fit in. That was something I understood only too well. I didn’t like the idea of anyone taking advantage of people who were curious about magic but I wasn’t about to make my best friend feel as though she was anything other than essential either.
I quickly scanned the contents of the window. Chunks of quartz, leather-bound journals, vases filled with dried flowers. Nothing sinister.
‘You know I’m only worried about you,’ I said, stepping out of her way.
‘You know I’m almost seventeen and perfectly capable of looking after myself?’
It didn’t feel like the right time to point out exactly how much evidence I had that was very much to the contrary.
‘It’s just a store,’ she said, her tone coaxing as she slipped her hand through my arm. ‘I only want to take a quick look around. We’ll be in and out in two minutes.’
‘Two minutes,’ I replied. ‘And if anything weird happens, we’re gone.’
‘Em, it’s just a store.’ She laughed and as she opened the door, a tiny brass bell tinkled above our heads. ‘What exactly do you think is going to happen?’
As soon as she said it, I wished that she hadn’t.
Inside was pure cliché. Purple textured wallpaper, endless racks of candles, tarot cards printed in China by the thousand and glass display cases full of cheap crystals marked up to match the deep pockets of their Hilton Head clientele. My magic and my morals bristled as I walked around, inspecting bookcases and poking at conveniently prepackaged love spells to-go. Right by the door, someone had set a small table with cards and a crystal ball covered with a thin black shawl. I had to fight the urge to gag. Every second we spent inside the store made me more uncomfortable, my skin irritated as though I’d brushed by a patch of stinging nettles, my magic bristling with every step.
Although we were the only browsers, the small space still felt overcrowded. I hovered by the window, remaining as close to the door as possible, and watched dozens of happyholidaymakers pass by without so much as glancing our way. It seemed odd, almost as though the store didn’t register, like it wasn’t there. Surely someone would stop in, just out of curiosity? This place definitely wasn’t covering what had to be exorbitant rent on the occasional tarot reading and twenty-dollar candle.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I said, startled by the sudden appearance of more customers, a couple, a man and a woman around my dad’s age. It was only when Lydia walked right through the woman I realized they weren’t here to shop.
‘Can I help you, ladies?’
A tall, dark-haired woman appeared behind the glass cash desk and the ghosts disappeared. She held a beaded curtain open as she stepped out of a back room steeped in shadows and when she took a step forward into the low light of the store, the irritation in my skin flared, shifting into an all-out burn. Her skin was even paler than mine and her eyes an alarming shade of violet. When I looked down at my forearms, peeking out from the rolled-up sleeves of my shirt, they were mottled red and white, the rash bright and bold.
‘Thank you so much, we’re doing great,’ Lydia cooed, flipping through a stack of Wicca-themed cookbooks. ‘I’ll holler if we need anything.’
‘You do that, I am here to help,’ the woman replied in an unusual accent. While she spoke to Lydia, she seemed fixated on me. ‘Where are you all visiting from?’
‘We’re just down from—’
‘Is that the time?’ I cut Lydia off without even pretending to look at my watch. ‘Hey, Jenny, we need to get going, don’t want to keep my mom waiting.’
‘Your mom?’ She frowned when I took hold of her hand, dragging her away from the cookbooks without looking back at the strange shopkeeper. ‘Jenny? What is the matter with you?’
‘That woman is the matter,’ I said once we were out the door. When I glanced up, the welcoming bell was shimmying back and forth but it didn’t make a sound. ‘We need to get back to the car right now.’
Lydia pulled out the car keys without question. ‘No worries, we’ll be home in five minutes.’ She glanced back and I knew that if I followed her gaze, I would see the woman watching us. ‘Who is she?’
