Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
I say the last few words on a whisper.
“I’m sorry, Lucy.”
“Me, too.”
I look over at him and feel close to tears. I never cry, and certainly not in front of sexy strangers.
“I don’t usually get this emotional,” I admit, brushing the heel of my hand over my cheek to wipe away the tears that managed to fall. “Have you heard of the Salem witch murders?”
His eyes narrow, and he leans in, listening intently. “No.”
“Each year, a witch is killed, usually during the Harvest Moon near Samhain. Everyone in my community lives in fear that they could be the one chosen next. A year ago, it was my mother.”
“You don’t work any protection spells against it?” I see that his hands have tightened into fists, but it’s the only sign that he’s anything but calm.
“Of course, we do,” I say and pull the fries out of the air fryer and plate our meals. “Jonas, I’ve seen a lot of stuff in my life. Hell, a few months ago, I helped send the evilest entity I’ve ever seen to hell—or wherever things like that go—after the same entity killed me, and I came back from the dead.”
Jonas just blinks at me as if he can’t believe what I’m saying. I continue.
“Anyway, I’ve seen a lot, and I’ve studied the Craft all my life. Our coven is old, deeply rooted here, and is made up of some powerful people. Of course, we cast circles, protection spells, and carry crystals. And yet, it still happens.”
Jonas blows out a breath and stares down at the plate I just slid in front of him.
“I’m sorry if I put you off your appetite,” I say quietly. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“No, I’m just…absorbing,” he replies and takes a bite of the fish. “This is delicious.”
“Thanks.” I fill Nera’s bowl with his food and settle next to Jonas to eat my dinner.
“How did you do it? Come back from the dead?” he asks quietly.
I turn my back to him and lift my hair so he can see the tattoo on the back of my neck. It looks like a simple Celtic knot.
“It’s a death ward,” I inform him and then turn back to my plate. “I cast a spell that prevents me from dying from any paranormal entity.”
“You’re joking.”
I shake my head and take a bite of fish. “Absolutely not. I don’t believe in interfering with the natural order of things, but there’s some crazy stuff in Salem, and most of it isn’t normal. My three cousins and I all have the ink.”
“I have a lot of questions,” he admits as he eats. “But I won’t bombard you with them tonight.”
“What is your affinity?” I ask him. “Obviously, as a green witch, I can control nature. And I’m a little psychic. I’ve always been told that I know more than most. Lorelei is a very talented psychic sea witch. She sees just about everything and speaks to those on the other side of the veil.”
“And the other cousin?” he asks.
“Breena is a hearth witch. She has no interest in her psychic abilities, although she’s a strong clairalient. She smells things all the time that aren’t there. Drives her a little batty. So, how about you?”
He takes a deep breath and wipes his mouth with a napkin.
“I’m a healer,” he replies slowly. “And I can move through time.”
I tilt my head, completely fascinated.
“You can time travel?”
“Sort of,” he says. “I can also manipulate fire, as you’ve seen, but at the heart of things, I’m a healer. Your apothecary is beautiful, Lucy. The products you sell are powerful and magical. I hope your customers understand that.”
“Some do,” I admit with a nod. “Some are just curious. And, honestly, I don’t mind selling to either or both because it serves a need.”
“So it does,” he says with a sigh. “You fascinate me. What’s your full name?”
“Are you going to Google me?”
His lips twitch with humor. “No. I’m just curious.”
“Luciana Finch,” I say at last. “But everyone calls me Lucy.”
“Luciana,” he whispers, and the sound of it on his lips doesn’t bother me in the least. “What a beautiful name for a breathtaking woman.”
“And what’s your last name, Jonas?”
“Morley,” he says.
“That’s an old-fashioned puritan name,” I say with a grin, and he answers with one of his own.
“I should go,” he says and stands from his seat. “Thank you for dinner. And for the conversation.”
“It was my pleasure,” I reply as I walk him outside and down the sidewalk that leads to my garden gate. Nera follows and waits at my hip as Jonas walks out and turns to wave at me.
When he’s in the trees, and I see the lights begin to flicker around him, I look down at Nera and whisper, “Let’s go.”
We follow behind Jonas, and I watch as he approaches the bridge and walks over it, beginning to disappear.