Page 3 of Stolen Magic
Char was grinning like a fiend, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she enjoyed the show.
“Wow, black kyanite? Really?” Jasmine’s friend, who she introduced as Michelle, gushed in her high-pitched, nasally tone, and the pounding in my temples turned into war drums calling for blood.
“Morning ladies, how are you today?” With nowhere to go, I spun to face them, plastering a too-wide smile on my face.
Both women wore strapless dresses with an obnoxious flower design that made me dizzy just looking at it. Leather cords and chains hung from their necks, a crystal dangling from each, and beaded bracelets encircled their wrists. Sparkly flipflops poked from under the hems, showing off pastel-colored pedicures. My faded jeans and forest green tank top that matched my eyes faded in comparison. I felt underdressed in my own store.
“Good thing I’m off today. I’m dying from the heat.” Jasmine reached inside her boho bag and pulled out a fan that she expertly opened with a flick of her wrist and a loud snap. “Can you believe it’s eighty-five degrees already? June just started, for goodness sake.” There was not a bead of sweat anywhere on her skin while she fanned her face.
The air-conditioning hummed in the background.
“Crazy, I know.” Inside my head I was debating if my face might cramp from the forced smile I kept firmly in place. My cheeks were already hurting. “You mentioned the kyanite. I’m afraid we sold out for now.” Their faces fell, and I cheered internally. The women were human, but I had no desire to see the powerful crystal anywhere near them.
“Oh, bummer. I was hoping to get a couple for my alter.” Jasmine flicked her smooth chestnut ponytail over one tanned shoulder and pouted, her Botox lips sticking out an inch from her face. “Michelle finally answered the call of the Goddess. She is my sister now—a witch.” She beamed at the petite blonde with red splotches on her face.
I choked on air.
I knew from the cooling of my skin that my face had blanched. Hacking and praying I wouldn’t cough out a lung, I pounded a fist on my chest while my eyes watered. The two humans took a few steps away from me, throwing wary glances my way as Char darted around the counter, brandishing a bottle of water in front of her like a sword. I hoped she could see the gratitude in my bulging eyes as I took it from her and swallowed half of it in one gulp.
“Allergies.” Char smiled thinly at the humans, shooting daggers at me afterward. “They always get her this time of the year.”
I nodded frantically like an idiot, my hair bouncing wildly around my face and a few drops of water dribbling down my chin.
That was all the encouragement Jasmine, the expert“witch,”needed. “You should dab organic tea tree oil on your pulse points and have two cups of ginger-lavender tea each day. It does miracles, trust me.”
“Never trust a person that says, ‘trust me,’” I rasped and wanted to slap my forehead the same second.
Jasmine narrowed her snake eyes at me. “What?”
My mouth opened because I was sick of this New Age bullcrap and ready to put her in her place when she was literally saved by the bell. It jumped and flipped above the door, announcing the next costumer. All four of us were somewhat clustered in the middle of the store, so we all turned in the direction of the chime to see who walked in. An older gentlemen with salt and pepper hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and spectacles closed the door behind him and nervously glanced around. In a light blue button-down shirt and black slacks, he stood out like a sore thumb in my store.
He cleared his throat uncomfortably, finally spotting us gawking at him.
“Welcome to the Crystal Palace.” Char snapped out of it first, her friendly grin that could charm the socks out of anyone firmly in place. “How can we help you today?” Her eyes kept dropping to the large bouquet wrapped in black velvety paper the man had clutched in his hand.
“Yes. Right, yes,” he repeated nervously, glancing all over the store as his face reddened. If it wasn’t my business that made him fidgety, I would’ve thought there were foot-long dildos and bondage paraphilia displayed all around.
Thankfully Jasmine and her friend walked away, ducking behind a glass display full of crystal towers tall enough to hide them from view. Their whispered murmurs created a distant buzz in the background. Fingers tightening on the bottle of water, I attempted a friendly smile for the older man. He probably wanted to buy a gift for his wife, or maybe a lady friend judging by the flowers he was strangling in his grip.
“Good morning,” I rasped, my throat raw from the coughing fit.
Instead of replying, he flipped the bouquet in front of his face like a shield to hide him and mumbled while rustling the paper. It was tall enough to hide the flowers curled outward in a squiggly wave. “Here it is.” He exclaimed, holding up a tiny envelope in his free hand.
Char and I looked at each other.
What a weirdo.
“Alaska McCullough?” Peeking around the flowers, he seemed so hopeful I almost laughed.
“That would be me,” I told him, sympathy toward the nervous man tightening my chest. He must’ve seen the ad for the store and knew I made the candles on request too. Maybe a rekindling love one for the poor guy. My mind was already spinning with ideas on how to help the older couple.
A broad smile formed additional wrinkles on his face, and he darted faster than any old man should toward me. Thrusting the flowers in my chest, he didn’t wait to see if I’d catch them. He spun on his heel and bolted out of my store like the hounds of hell were nipping on his butt.
Dread pooled in my stomach, weighing it down.
With trembling fingers, I flicked the card open, and my lungs shriveled like prunes. Two words imprinted themselves in my brain for eternity.I know.There was no name or signature under the accusation curdling my blood. I crumpled it so hard I had to force myself to calm so I didn’t turn it into ashes while humans hovered inside the store. After I shoved it in my pocket, it was easier to sip air through my tight throat.
Lowering my hand like it belonged to someone else, I peered inside the black paper, and all the blood thickly trickling through my veins drained from my face. Char snatched my upper arm to keep me standing when my knees buckled, and even Jasmine dragged her friend to take a look at my gift. I prayed to whoever listened that my face showcased that I was shocked from the surprise and not scared out of my mind. Because the flowers were not a gift.
