“And how would you know what he meant? Is that part of the training program?” Rowan asked, with a doubtful expression.
Jesus, was this an introductory conversation or an interrogation?
“I don’t pretend I know what he’s thinking, or anyone else for that matter,” I said with a chuckle. “But I cycled through a lot of different beliefs back in the day, and I meana lot. Somewhere along the line, I stumbled onto what some call witchcraft, and others call Wicca.”
“Is there a difference? A measurable one, that is.”
Interesting phrasing. “I mean, yes and no. Depends on who you ask.”
“That answers nothing,” he said curtly.
“It answers,” I shot back, irritated by his stubbornness, but dialing it back and smiling. “At the time, Wiccans would have refuted the idea of it being witchcraft because of a PR issue. Wiccans were focused on the more earth-centered aspects, the religious aspects, treating spells and rituals as comparable to mass or prayer.”
“More of a focus on the trappings of faith rather than direct spellcasting,” he guessed.
“Pretty much.”
“And nowadays?”
“Oh hell, I don’t know. I mean, I’m not sure, I don’t have that belief anymore. Though there are plenty of self-proclaimed witches out there, mostly on TikTok. I think it’s just a shifting of attitudes. Back when I was Wicca, it was an attempt to tone down the ‘scarier’ aspects to garner acceptance. And nowadays, it’s more or less the same, but the more vocal believers are adopting a more striking attitude. Openly calling themselves witches to seem strong and not bend to conventional thought.”
“Hmm,” Rowan grunted, eyeing me critically. “Do you think the modern approach is better?”
“I...” Okay, that wasn’t a question I expected, but I rolled with it. “I think those making a bold statement aren’t any more wrong or right than those who craved acceptance. At the end of the day, they’re all just people who want what most people want. Love.”
Rowan snorted. “So you’re a fence sitter.”
I stiffened, but kept my smile. “That’s one interpretation.”
He scowled. “I might be direct, but that doesn’t mean I can’t recognize passive aggression when I hear it.”
“Look,” I said, trying to keep the pleading out of my voice because holy hell, I could not piss off the first guest I was responsible for in the first five minutes. That would be a record, and not the kind I wanted. “What you call ‘fence sitting’ is what I call keeping an open mind.”
“A mind too open risks falling out,” he shot back.
Ooooh, he was going to test every last trace of patience I had, and I would swear before the Lord God Himself, all the apostles and saints, the entire Greek pantheon, and the Egyptian one for good measure that I had a lot of patience to test. The problem was that when someone really got on my nerves, my temper wasnever far behind. And so far, he had been condescending, rude, and a plain old grumpy asshole. I didn’t care if he was hot or that he needed help, I swear to?—
I smiled, forcing a deep breath in. “And if my mind is ever threatened with falling out, I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
He blinked. “What?”
“You’re clearly willing to speak your mind without fear of reprisal,” I said, twisting my judgment of him into something that sounded corporate and powerful. “So I’m sure if I start to lose my mind, you’ll tell me.”
I wasnotgoing to lose my temper, even if he was rude, disagreeable, and judgmental. I knew, I fuckingknewthat people who were damaged or hurt didn’t come across as meek and mild. Damage could make you mean, it could make you nasty, it could make you the sort of person who created other victims. Hurt people hurt people.
But he had come here, I didn’t know how or why, but he had, which meant he knew he needed help. So even if he was a disagreeable dick, it was my job to look past that and find the person he wanted to be, the one hecouldbe, and focus on that instead.
“So,” I said, taking a breath and smiling again, “why don’t we go with Reggie’s idea and trust the process together?”
“You’re new, aren’t you?” he asked bluntly.
“I can’t tell if that’s agreeing to my idea or not,” I said, because like hell was I going to answer his question. I needed to keep in mind that he was the person who was supposed to be helped, but that didn’t mean I was willingly going to hand over information that could and, with him, probably would be used against me.
“That is a yes, I think, but also someone who learned athisfeet,” Rowan said with a snort and turned to stare out thewindow again, his shoulders sagging slightly. “But not totally, no?—”
I opened my mouth and then carefully closed it, letting him lapse into his thoughts. Perhaps it was more in line with the intention of the room, but I knew better. I didn’t want to risk saying something that would dig my hole even deeper. He clearly didn’t think much of the program or me, and now, with his suspicion about me being new to the Guide thing, he was even more doubtful. All in all, not the greatest start to the relationship we were supposed to be forming, but I wasn’t about to make that even worse.
“Arete,” he said softly after almost five minutes of silence. “Because of the mountains?”
