Page 24 of Claws for Celebration
"Witch," she said aloud, testing how the word felt on her tongue. "I'm a witch."
"You're a Shadowheart witch, specifically. One of the most powerful bloodlines in North American magical history."
Before Moira could respond, the stack of genealogy books she'd been working with began arranging themselves in chronological order, pages fluttering open to specific entries that traced her family's magical lineage back through centuries. The volumes moved with purposeful intelligence, organizing information in ways that would have taken her hours to accomplish manually.
"This is insane," she whispered, watching centuries of family history arrange itself for her convenience. "This is absolutely insane."
"This is you coming into your power," Lucien corrected. "And you're handling it remarkably well, all things considered."
"Handling it well?" Moira gestured wildly at the self-organizing books, the burning candles, the glowing symbols in her notebook. "I'm apparently conducting some kind of magical symphony without knowing the first thing about music!"
"But you're not panicking. You're not running. You're asking intelligent questions and accepting evidence that most people would refuse to acknowledge." Lucien stood slowly, moving toward her with that characteristic fluid grace. "That takes extraordinary courage."
"Or extraordinary stupidity."
"Sometimes they're the same thing."
His smile created a feeling of safety and belonging because of a man who'd been patiently guiding her.
"Lucien," she said softly, "my grandmother's warnings. The things she used to say about 'old troubles' and 'dangerous stories.' She was protecting me from this, wasn't she?"
"Elara made difficult choices to keep her family safe. Leaving Hollow Oak, suppressing her magical nature, never teaching you about your heritage." His expression grew thoughtful. "She sacrificed her own connection to magic to ensure you could live a normal human life."
"Except it was never really normal, was it?" Moira thought about all the times she'd felt like an outsider, the sense that she was missing some crucial piece of information about how the world actually worked. "I always knew something was different about me. I just couldn't identify what."
"And now?"
"Now I'm watching books rearrange themselves while having a casual conversation about inherited witchcraft with a man who somehow isn't surprised by any of this." She met his eyes, noting how the candlelight made them appear more green than brown. "Which brings up an important question."
"What's that?"
"You said Hollow Oak is a sanctuary for people with unusual gifts. You mentioned that the residents all have different abilities." Moira stepped closer to him, drawn by curiosity and something deeper that made her pulse quicken. "What's your gift, Lucien?"
Something flickered across his expression, too quick to interpret but intense enough to make her breath catch. "That's a complicated question."
"Everything about this situation is complicated. I'd like at least one straightforward answer."
"The straightforward answer is that my abilities are different from yours. More physical in nature."
"Physical how?"
Lucien studied her face with an intensity that made her skin tingle with awareness. "Are you sure you want to know? Some revelations change how you see people permanently."
"After everything I've learned today, I think I can handle one more impossible thing." Moira reached out without conscious thought, her hand coming to rest on his chest. "Besides, if we're going to be honest about supernatural abilities, shouldn't that honesty go both ways? It might even help me feel less…unusual."
The contact sent familiar electricity arcing between them, but underneath that attraction lay something else. A sense of recognition that went deeper than simple chemistry, as if some part of her had been waiting to find exactly this person in exactly this moment.
"You're right," he said finally, his voice rough with emotion she couldn't quite identify. "If you're brave enough to accept what you're becoming, I should be brave enough to show you what I am."
"Then show me."
The words hung between them, weighted with implications of the type of trust needed. Moira found herself holding her breath as Lucien covered her hand with his, their fingers intertwining in a gesture that felt both natural and momentous.
"All right," he said softly. "But not here. What I need to show you requires privacy and probably more space than the bookstore can provide."
"Where then?"
"The garden behind the building. It's warded for privacy, and there's enough room for..." He paused, as if searching for the right words. "For you to see me as I really am."
