Page 4 of Raising the Sun

The shop’s exterior wasn’t all that impressive. Just a regular brick building with black wooden panelling, in the middle of a regular street, sandwiched between a charity shop and a newsagent. Nothing extraordinary. Though, the witchy window display gave it some charm—if you were into that sort of thing—and the black door was wedged open in invitation. There was also a smell coming from inside that reminded me a lot of my own shop. It was floral and sweet, but even squinting through the window, I couldn’t see any flowers. I couldn’t see much of anything except shadowed outlines in the dark. Had the door been shut, I’d have thought it was closed.

I could pretend it was, and leave, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Wayne had the opening times memorised, or he was camped out in his car across the street, chuckling to himself at having finally tricked me over to the dark side. I had a quick glance just to be sure, but there was no one suspicious lurking around. Therewereempty cars parked at the side of the road, and a lamp post with a missing cat poster stuck to it, but that was about all I could see. No people, no hustle and bustle. It struck me as odd, but maybe it wasn’t a particularly busy part of town?

I didn’t live there, so how was I to know if the streets outside magic shops were usually popular or not?

I was stalling, and after a look at my phone screen, I realised I was quickly running out of time. I could’ve just gone back to my car, driven home, and set up shop early, but I was already here, and despite there being no one to bear witness, I’d feel a right plum having lingered for so long only to turn back. So, with a deep sigh and a head shake at my own expense, I headed inside.

My eyes widened as soon as I stepped through the doorway.

The place was much larger than I’d expected, both wider and taller—brighter, too. The window must have been tinted. It appeared narrow from the outside, squashed between two other shops as it was, and not nearly big enough to swing a cat. But along the walls were shelves upon shelves of dusty old books, with scary-tall ladders leading to the top rows that made my belly swoop just imagining standing on them. The proportions were way off, and there was natural light streaming in that couldn’t possibly be coming from one window. None of it made sense. It had to be some sort of illusion: mirrors or the like warping reality and fucking with the customers’ minds.

It definitely worked.

I made my way down one of the aisles, scanning the array of pretty crystals and other occult supplies I had no idea what to call, or what their uses might be. The floral smell was much more potent inside, but there were still no flowers that I could see. It was likely coming from the bunches of dried herbs dangling from the shelves, but that didn’t seem quite right.The scent in my nose was fresh and vibrant, not earthy or stale. I ignored it, putting it down to more simple trickery, but it gave me the heebie-jeebies nonetheless.

At the end of the aisle, I came face to face with a counter: a till to one side and a call bell that said ‘please ring for assistance’ at the other. No one was manning the station, so I followed the instructions and tapped the button on the top. The chime echoed for a good few seconds—an ear-splitting sound that seemed to ricochet between every glass jar—before fading out with no one coming to answer its call. I turned to see if there were any staff milling around one of the other rows I hadn’t walked down, but they were all just as empty.

Frowning, I turned back, intent on making my impatience known by ringing the bell again…

Only to damn near jump out of my skin, instead.

“Creeping Jesus!” My hand flew to my chest as I stumbled backwards, away from the six-foot-tall man who’d appeared behind the till without a peep. “I didn’t…” I took a deep inhale to be sure I hadn’t shit myself, then exhaled with a prayer of gratitude that I hadn’t. “I didn’t expect you to be there.”

The stranger’s eery black eyes dropped to the bell before flicking back up. “You rang.”

“Yeah, but…” I trailed off, narrowing my eyes in suspicion. He must have come from the door behind the till—a back room, probably—but I swore, I hadn’t heard it open. What kind of fuckery had I wandered into? “Never mind.”

The guy reminded me of the magician my brother had at his twelfth birthday party, clad in his bow tie, black suit complete with long jacket tails, and top hat. It was a fine line between tacky and distinguished. I mean, I couldn’t exactly fault him for his commitment to the bit, but it seemed a littletoowell tailored to be entirely fancy dress.

Maybe he was just an avid fan of the Victorian era?

Isn’t that the case for most people into this stuff?

He propped his hand against the counter’s edge, lips curling into a polite smile. “How can I be of assistance?”

“I have no idea,” I answered honestly, unsure how else to act. “My brother gave me your address, but I think it’s some kind of prank ’cause—”

He cut me off, swatting at the air as if batting away the very notion. “I do not deal in pranks. Only spells, potions, tinctures, runes—anything of the magical persuasion—can be found in here.” He tilted his head like a curious dog, a dog that could see right into my soul. “Is there anything specific you’re in need of? A Tarot reading, perhaps?”

“Er…” I said eloquently, every thought I’d ever had fleeing my head for a beat.

The shopkeeper seemed to notice my malfunction and hummed in sympathy, his eyes roving over the whole of me as if assessing. After a few moments and a click of his teeth, his gaze returned to mine, his smile widening. “I believe I know exactly what you need.”

That woke me up.

“If it’s a big pile o’ cash, then you’d be correct.”

He huffed a short laugh, shaking his head. “Please wait here for three ticks.”

With a twist of his wrist, a cane materialised from thin air—slid out from his sleeve, undoubtedly, but still a pretty impressive sleight of hand—before he disappeared into the back room, out of view. I released a slow breath, already baffled by the entire interaction and gagging to leave. But just as the thought of legging it came to me, literallythree seconds later, the stranger returned, a small pouch and what looked like a playing card in his hand.

My brow furrowed.

“Here we are,” he announced, resting his cane against the worktop so he could spread the items out. There was a feather there, too, long and orangey-red like a flame. Fucked if I knew any bird with feathers like that. It had to be fake. “Before I hand this spell over to you, you must understand that once you commit, it cannot be undone.”

I hadn’t the heart to admit I had no clue what was happening, or that I wasn’t a believer. There was no benefit to ruining his act, or his fun, and the quicker it was over, the sooner I could go home. “Sure, I understand,” I said, somewhat confidently. “Er, what exactly does it do?”

“It will guide you to all that you desire,” he said. Keeping it vague, of course, ’cause who needed details, anyway? “That is why you arehere, is it not?”

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