ChapterOne
Cinnamon and woodsmoke drifted over the Festival of the Revel, wrapping Mira Winrow in a sweetness that made her ache for something she couldn’t quite name.
Her father, Gideon, had told her just yesterday that the festival wasn’t simply a stop as they made their way through Northern Ohio; it was a calling.He’d seen a flicker of the future in a vision, a path illuminated by the newly risen star Velastra, leading them here.
“We’re not just following the calendar,” he told her with a quiet voice, eyes distant like he was seeing the future right then.“Something is waiting at the festival, Mira.Something for you.”
When she’d asked him for clarification, he’d simply said that he only saw what he saw, that he never had any explanation for his visions.The only thing he knew for certain was that her future was in this place, and that’s why they’d come.
She wanted to believe him.She wanted to believe that the star and the glimpse of her future were going to pan out into something.But doubt lingered, curling in her chest like the thin wisps of smoke from the festival fires.Was there really hope in Willow’s Crossing?Was a star in the sky really going to somehow guide her to something more?
Their small group, the House of Winrow, moved across the country as they pleased.Seven psychics traveled nomadically, following signs, dreams, and, apparently, mysterious stars.They were family, but only Mira and her parents were related.The others were bound by an ancient oath and as close as any natural-born family could be.
Her mother, Daphne, was the dream walker of the group, slipping effortlessly through the realm of sleep and dreams, able to interpret dreams for others.Her gift was often a comfort to the members of the house, a quiet tether to the dream world, offering explanations for the times when dreams skewed into the strange and absurd, or even terrifying.
But Gideon held a different burden.He glimpsed the future, but it was always in pieces, fragments that were usually so fleeting he never truly knew what was coming until it happened.He always seemed to carry the burden of the weight of future secrets.
And then there was Mira.
She had no gifts whatsoever.
She couldn’t wander in dreams or see visions of the future.She couldfeelthat there was something magical inside her, but it was buried under thick and unyielding silence.
Every time they were around other magical and supernatural people at events like this festival, she felt fresh hope, but always afterward renewed disappointment.
She’d been alive for twenty-five years.Thanks to the longevity of her supernatural nature, she still appeared to be eighteen and was what their kind referred to aseighteen-plus-seven.Supernatural people—Wiccans, psychics, shifters, and others—aged one body year for every twelve that passed.She wouldn’t technically be nineteen for another five years.
But all that meant to her really was that she was some sort of supernatural person without any kind of magical ability.
A mundane amongst the extraordinary.
Thursday morning, the day before the August full moon, had been a blur of activity as they’d rolled into the festival campground at dawn.The festival had opened at noon and would run through Sunday night, celebrating Velastra, a star that was said to reveal secrets to those who sought to know the truth.
Tents and booths lined the walkways, a mixture of those who sold magical items and gifts for a price, as well as food, drinks, and games.
Mira carried a box that held an overly large crystal ball on an ornately carved stand.Tamsin, their house’s only medium, used the crystal ball as a prop in the booth where she told the future to those willing to pay.She didn’t need the crystal ball, but people seemed to think she was more authentic if she gazed into the ball instead of simply holding their hand.
As she made her way to their booth, from the RV she shared with her parents, she had to dodge children running amok and other vendors carrying their own wares.
Her mom stood near their tent, which was crafted from thick purple and blue fabric and lined with gold tassels.Mira passed by her with a smile and set the box on the velvet-draped table near the entrance of the booth.
Tamsin, who Mira considered to be an older sister even though they weren’t blood-related, shuffled a worn deck of regular playing cards from behind the table, her fingers moving with practiced ease.“I don’t know why,” she said with a small smile as Mira took the ball out of the box and set it in the center of the table, “but I feel drawn to ordinary playing cards and not tarot cards for this festival.”
Mira shrugged with a smile.“I guess sometimes simple things can be the most rewarding.”
Tamsin nodded once, the cards flying between her hands like they had a mind of their own.
“I can read your future for you,” Tamsin offered.
“Hard pass,” Mira said.“The last time you tried to tell my future, you said a change was coming, and I got chemical burns on my scalp from hair dye, and my hair was purple for a week while it healed.”
Tamsin grinned sheepishly.“Itwasa change.”
“Sure,” Mira said, shaking her head.“But not the kind I was hoping for.”
She turned to leave and nearly ran into her mom.
“Are you all right?”Daphne asked.
