Page 10 of Property of Scythe
We move beyond this area and enter the next room, where sweets are the focus. Mystic Emporium is half magic shop and half candy store. Everything can be bought in bulk since rows of bins, multiple displays, and the shelves nearly groan with the weight of various concoctions.
If you’ve ever seen theHarry Potterfilms orWilly Wonka, you’ll understand the concept and scope of the candy shop. The popularity of those films inspired the Mystic Emporium and the shelves upon shelves of chocolates, candies, gummies, suckers, and sweet treats. It’s a kid’s dream. Or anyone with a sweet tooth for that matter.
When she turns and faces my direction, I see her face clearly for the first time. She’s fucking gorgeous. Her golden-brown hair is thick and shiny, and my fingers twitch with the need to touch the silky texture. Expressive, electric green eyes peruse the shelves with a hint of wonder and never notice how close I’ve gotten. But it’s her smile, a mixture of humor and intrigue that disarms me. I want to know what thoughts are dancing in her head as she picks up several types of chocolate and adds them to the shopping basket she carries.
I want to do something for her and momentarily leave her side to approach the register and checkout lane. I don’t bother explaining myself or my reasons as I tell the witch at the counter what I want. She’s dressed in all black with spidery webs crossing over her chest. At her nod, I slap down a couple of crisp hundred-dollar bills and stride back to the shadows, waiting for my pretty prey to approach with her final purchases.
When she does, I can’t help my grin.
“The total is a hundred and forty-five dollars,” the witch informs her.
“I’ll put it on my card.”
As she opens her purse, the witch shakes her head. “That’s not necessary. It’s already paid for.”
The girl blinks. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s been paid for by another customer. In fact, you have additional funds to spend. He paid two hundred up front.”
Shit. She wasn’t supposed to reveal my gender.
“How do I thank him?”
“I’m sure he’ll find out.”
“Then I guess I’ll find a few more things.”
My lips curl into a grin when she finalizes her purchases, adding more sweets, some spooky décor items, and a leather-bound journal.
“Tell him Lottie says thank you.”
I nearly laugh as she gives her name to the witch.Lottie.It suits her. For some reason, I think of a lollipop and wonder if her lips taste as sweet.
When she exits the store with her bags, I follow.
At three more stores, I pay up front for her purchases, enjoying her genuine surprise and grateful responses. But when she rushes from the final store, clutching her hand against her chest, I wonder if I fucked up.
She ducks into a quiet, empty alcove and seems to struggle to breathe. Panic dances on her delicate features. She’s afraid.
A growl forms in my throat, but I don’t release it. She’s been hurt and terrorized in a brutal way. I can sense it. Hell, it’s the reason I feel the pull. At least, partially. Now that I’ve spent a few minutes close to her, I can’t deny the urgency or the danger that clings to her. She’s in trouble, or she’s running. From who, what, or why, I don’t know.
And that only intrigues me more.
I need to find out what happened to Lottie and how it’s connected to Raven’s Crest.
“It’s not real,” she whispers as I linger within hearing range. “I’m okay. It’s just someone being kind.”
Fuck. The need to comfort her overwhelms me. But I can’t reveal myself while she’s seeing ghosts in her head. I’ll only spook her.
She stops at the post office, and I wait outside, tempted to find out her address, but I decide against it. I’ll see her again. I already know she’s come to Raven’s Crest because fate led her here. The reason is still unknown.
But I’m a patient man when I want something. And I want to learn more about Lottie.
She left her name with every shop, which has to mean she feels safe here, to some extent. Her sense of adventure is greater than her fear. I can work with that.
When she exits the post office, I continue to follow her, although I allow more distance between us since she seems to scan the street several times before returning to her car. I expect her to drive away, but she turns toward a strip mall and parks, three shops down from my Harley.
I watch her exit her vehicle and decide this is my chance to interact with her without making it uncomfortable. After all, I’m friends with the owner, Granny Jo.
