Mel clutched a decorative gourd from a fall display. “Halloween’s coming up, too! Riya, can we finally coordinate our costumes?”
“No,” Riya said, flipping through a pamphlet titledPotions, Lotions, and Magick Methods. “I’m not dressing up unless Student Council forces me.”
“I could see you dress as Bayonetta,” Kian said a little too eagerly. “Or maybe a sexy librarian.”
“Please cease with your sick imaginings.”
While Mel fawned over a cat in the windowsill and Kian dutifully scratched behind its ears, Riya drifted toward the register. Empty. And beside it, a display of brass incense burners, hand-etched bowls, crystal pendulums.
Peri magic doesn’t rely on tools, Sirah khala used to say.It relies on you.
Still, Riya felt a strange pang. Not for all the witchy objects, but the certainty behind them. For a life arranged around belief in magic.
If she’d never cast that spell in eighth grade, would she feel the same?
“So what’s the plan, Professor?” Kian asked softly behind her.
She turned. His shirt was flecked with cat fur, his eyes rimmed red.
“I think the book club’s downstairs,” she said. Then, hesitating: “How are you feeling? You look... tired. More tired.”
Kian blinked, like the question surprised him. “I’m fine,”he said, then added, “Sleep’s been rough. It’s the dreams mostly.”
“Dreams?”
“Yeah, it’s weird. I keep dreaming about... threads. Red ones. Wrapping around me until I can’t think or breathe. I’d be into it if it wasn’t... scary.”
A chill swept through her.Threads.The same ones she’d glimpsed when the spell first backfired. The fact that Kian was seeing them too couldn’t have been a good sign.
“You’ll tell me if anything else happens?” she asked, her voice low.
Kian nodded too quickly. “Will do.”
Mel suddenly jumped between them, beaming. “Your sisters would love this place, RiRi.”
“Sisters?” Kian’s brow furrowed. “Wait, Riya, you have sisters?”
“Two.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice went rough. “You know I want to know everything about you.”
Riya blinked. “I didn’t think it was that important.”
“It is to me.”
His stare didn’t budge; his knuckles had gone white on the counter. The shift was abrupt. Frightening, almost.
“Kian—”
“Need help finding anything?”
They turned to find a woman in overalls, cropped salt-and-pepper hair, silver rings stacked on every finger. Heraccent was soft-edged, hard to place. Welsh, maybe?
Riya stepped forward. “I was curious if you had anything on... peris.”
“Peris,” the woman repeated, as if weighing the word. “Now there’s a topic I haven’t heard in a while. Hard to find much in any books I know.”
Riya kept her expression neutral. “I see. That’s unfortunate.”
