She started picking up the stray flyers, mostly wet with seawater. ‘Me, probably,’ she said over her shoulder. She caught a glimpse of his thick, muscled back under his T-shirt, which had ridden up as he crouched down, and looked away, feeling a heat spread through her, from her thighs, deep into the core of her and up into her stomach.
He stood up and stared at her. Faye felt his intense gaze, again, as if it was penetrating her. She shifted, swallowing.
‘You? Why?’
‘I’m the local witch, you could say. My family’s been here for generations.’
‘Witch? What, eye of newt and toe of frog?’ He frowned at her now, his brow becoming heavier, and Faye was reminded of a bull, sizing up an intruder in its field. Overhead, the seagulls circled and squawked.
‘No. Herbs, plants, the moon, magic…that kind of thing.’
‘Right.’ He smiled, then, crinkling his eyes against the hard late winter sun, and the sense of peril passed. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met a real witch before.’
‘You probably have. You just didn’t know it.’ Faye ran for three flyers that were caught at the tideline. Rav followed, picking up more.
‘So, you’re local? D’you know anything more about the history of the house? The agent was pretty clueless.’ Rav appeared next to her and stuffed another handful of mulched flyers in his pockets.
‘I run a shop in the village – Mistress of Magic, and I live above it. I’ve lived here all my life. Yeah, that house has a history. My grandmother used to tell me stories about it.’ She didn’t break her gaze away from the water, but only because she didn’t know where to look: Faye was deeply, almost painfully aware of Rav. Of his aura, which was a deep red. The colour of sex. Of the smell of him, which was clean, woody, but also somehow overpoweringly masculine.
‘I’d love to hear them sometime.’ Rav’s eyes met hers, and held her gaze.He’s probably nice to everyone,Faye thought reflexively.He’s not flirting with me.
‘Well, pop into the shop. I’m open every day except Sunday,’ she said, looking away hastily. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to go and open up. Good luck with your festival.’ She bent and picked up a dry flyer from a few feet away. ‘I’ll put one up in the window if you like?’
‘I do like. Thanks.’ He caught her eye again and his eyes twinkled. ‘I’ll look forward to seeing you again soon, Faye Morgan. Or should I call youMorgan Le Fay?’
‘Just Faye will do,’ she said, picking up her forgotten coffee. She made her way back to the footpath, feeling his eyes on her. Once she was far enough away, she waved, and he waved back.
I can’t believe I waved, she thought.
She wondered whether meeting Rav at the beach – in all its strangeness, with the glimmering light chasing him away fromher, and the scent of roses – was a result of the love spell. Surely, that was just her imagination.
Let him be kind, beautiful, magical, free; let him be loving, gentle and in love with me.
That was what she had asked for.
Faye didn’t know much about Rav other than that he was gorgeous, was moving into the house on the beach, and that he worked in music. Whether he was kind, magical and available, she had no idea.
Would the spell work that quickly? Faye had cast spells before, but the outcomes were never that exact. Was meeting Rav a coincidence?
Or had she just got what she asked for?
4
‘Good morning. May I come in?’
The bells tinkled as the glass door pushed open. It was the day of the full moon, another week after Faye had met Rav at the beach, and Faye was pouring loose incense through a funnel into the small glass jars that she sold in the shop and didn’t look up, but called out a cheery good morning as she always did to any customers who entered.
Even so, at the edge of her awareness, there was a feeling of strangeness. An unknown presence. The faint smell of the sea in the rain, even over the incense that burned in the corner of the shop.
Faye was playing gentle folk music from her phone and through a small digital speaker. Suddenly, the music stopped, and the shop was dead quiet. She looked up, frowning at the sudden pause.
The man stood in the doorway, smiling at her in such a way that suggested he knew her.
‘Good morning. May I come in?’ he repeated in a low, musical voice.
‘Oh! Morning.’ Faye pulled her glasses onto her nose from where they held her auburn hair back from her face. ‘Please do.’
The man gave her an odd look, and gazed around him before stepping through the doorway into the shop. Faye shivered as he did so, unsure whether it was the blast of chilly, wet air that came in with him or something else.
