Page 2 of Wooing the Wiccan
To my surprise, it’s addressed to me personally. I don’t usually put my actual name when I shop online, preferring to use initials instead, but this email begins withDear Jared. The next line mentions getting my contact information from a friend of mine, another witch, and I reach for my phone and call her.
“…set the damn table before I throw the Xbox in the trash! Hi, Jared. It’s been a while.”
I’m sure she can hear my smile when I say, “Hey, Mel. Yeah, that’s my fault. I never rescheduled after I had to cancel that time. Listen, I’m sorry to bother you at dinnertime—I can tell you’re busy?—”
“Hah! Try and find a time that isn’t busy around here, I dare you.”
“I’ve known you long enough to know that’s impossible. I won’t keep you—though I will text you later to set up lunch or something. But I got this email that says you gave them my c?—”
“Crap! I totally spaced, didn’t I? I was supposed to let you know I’d passed along your email, and I didn’t. I’m so sorry.”
Wow. Okay, then. “So it’s legit? This email about learning to use magic?”
She must hear my skepticism, because she snorts. “I know, right? The first time I got called about it, I hung up. There are so many people who think we’ll fall for any scam just because we’re Wiccan, like that makes us gullible. But I eventually went to one of their seminars, and now I go to weekly classes. It’s legit, and I think you’d get a lot out of it. It’s free, anyway, so you might as well check it out.”
“Free?” That can’t be right.
“Volunteer run,” she confirms. “It’s genuinely for those of us who want to be more connected to nature, and the benefits I’m seeing after only a couple of months are wonderful. I— For the love of the goddess, Mikey, stop throwing stuff at your sister! I don’t care what she said, we don’t throw things at people! Jared, listen, I’ve gotta go. Talk later?”
“Yeah, sure,” I reply, but she’s already ended the call.
I put my phone down and read the email properly. There’s not a lot of detail there—basically what Mel just told me, plus dates, times, and locations for information sessions where I can learn more. There is some emphasis on this being for further learning only, with no products or services to buy.
“What do you think, Margie?” I ask. “It looks sus, but Mel wouldn’t scam me… and my gut says it’s worth checking out.”
My cat looks up from her food bowl and meows disinterestedly. Guess the decision’s up to me, then.
CHAPTER TWO
Raðulfr
“Say bye, Cecy,”Percy coaxes, his daughter perched comfortably on his hip while he sets an example by waving at me. Cecylia obediently waves.
“Bye-bye!” Then her eyes go wide as she realizes what that means, and her little face crumples. “Nooooooo. Stay here!”
Aww. “I wish I could, Cecy, but I have to go home now.” I probably shouldn’t have come in the first place, given the amount of work I brought home with me this weekend, but it’s hard to resist a visit to Here Be Dragons. It’s so comfortable and welcoming here… though not really restful. Dragons never are.
But restful or not, I’m never lonely when I’m here, and unfortunately, loneliness has become too big a part of my life to pretend that doesn’t matter. It’s ridiculous—I’m responsible for nearly two hundred thousand elves, for their safety and wellbeing and happiness, and I’m welcomed enthusiastically by them wherever I go, yet somehow, I’m still lonely.
Cecy sticks out her bottom lip in a stubborn pout. “Stay.” She pats my chest. “Dis new home.”
I chuckle, and Percy outright laughs. “How am I supposed to resist that?” I ask him, and, sensing weakness, Cecy reaches for me.
I step back, putting my hands behind me. That sweet little dragonet inherited a natural streak of manipulation ability, and learned to hone it from Brandt and Dustin. If I hold her, I’ll be a goner.
Her eyes fill with tears. “Rosh,” she whines piteously. It’s the closest she can get to pronouncing my name, and I never thought the sound would be so dear to me. “Stay, Rosh.” Her mouth trembles, and I waver.
“Oh, sweet one, I wish I could.” Maybe if I move?—
“Don’t let her guilt you, Raðulfr,” Percy warns. “You spent two hours playing blocks with her. It’s time for her nap, anyway.”
That’s clearly some kind of reverse magic word, because Cecy hisses and immediately shifts into her dragon form. Percy adjusts his hold on her without batting an eye—a far cry from the first time she did it.
“You still have to nap,” he tells her. She’s no longer baby pale, her coloring beginning to darken from almost white to the blue she’ll be as an adult. Brandt was sighing about that the other day.
“I’m going to leave you to fight this battle,” I say as Cecy gives a tiny growl. Percy taps her on the nose.
“None of that. We don’t growl at family just because we don’t like naps,” he chides, then turns his attention back to me. “I sometimes can’t tell if I win this battle or not. Safe travels home, and come see us again soon. Cecy misses her Uncle Rosh.” His gentle smile is genuine, and not for the first time, I envy Brandt. Not because of Percy, specifically, though Percy is wonderful, but because he has a loving, supportive partner and a family. I lost the only family I had long ago, and it hurt, but there were thousands of others who needed me.
