Page 9 of Love Summoned

“I’m fine, thank you.” I smile, setting my now empty cup on the table. The woman’s eyes light up as she follows my hand, staring into it.

“May I?” She reaches for the cup, not touching it until she has my approval.

I attempt to school my reaction before shifting my gaze to Sloane. She’s studying the woman, no doubt wondering the same thing I am: is she a witch, gifted, or something else?

I push my magic forward, trying to get a read of her emotions, but I don’t feel anything. It’s like I’m blocked out.

The woman pulls a chain from beneath her shirt with a black stone hanging in a chamber. “Tourmaline blessed with mugwort and angelica. Your emotive powers will do you no good here, my dear,” she says, smiling, as she pulls out the empty seat between Sloane and me.

“Are you a—”

She shakes her head before I can finish my question. “I have met many of your kind. I am gifted with insight, but nothing to the degree of your powers, I’m sure. This stone was given to me by a friend who is like you.”

“How did you know?”

She winks. “I have my ways. Now, let’s have a look at your leaves, shall we?”

Picking up my cup, she turns it in her palm, humming to herself with a crinkle between her brows.

“The next few weeks will be challenging, make no mistake. A knife, and it’s close to the rim. This could be an immediate threat. It’s opposite the handle, so it will not be you. Someone close, though.”

A rock sinks in my gut as my eyes fly to Sloane, but her hardened gaze doesn’t shift from the older woman.

“This hammer in the middle means many battles to overcome, but just below it is a butterfly. Success.” She stops to look up at me with a knowing smile. “Pleasure.”

My cheeks flush. I’m not as outgoing when it comes to men as Sloane is, but I don’t shy away from opportunity when it arises either. It’s hard to date as a witch. I’ve been with more humans than other witches; each with their own pros and cons. I like when a lover takes his time to bring me pleasure. Most witches I’ve met are selfish lovers, but they allow me to explore a cosmic carnality that seems to take over me when I’m experiencing heightened pleasure. It must be something tied to my magic.

The human men I’ve been with were eager to please, but I couldn’t entirely relax out of fear my magic might burst out of me along with an orgasm. Not to mention, with my powers to influence human emotions, when my own arousal rises, so does theirs, sometimes a little too quickly.

Suffice to say, it’s been a while. It’s not something I’m thrilled about, either. My magic is stronger when I’m more relaxed, and there’s nothing like a good orgasm to help with that.

“Be on the lookout, girl.” I jump with the intrusion to my thoughts as the woman’s voice turns grave. She points to what looks like two blobs connected in the middle, at the very top of the rim above the handle. “The hourglass. Danger. And it’s close.”

Sloane picks up her coffee and dumps what’s left into the teacup she drank from earlier, her head whipping between me and the woman.

“You’re not fucking reading my leaves.”

“Do you think that weird magic is why my visions led me here?”

“Weird magic?” Sloane asks as we approach the library. The cool mid-morning breeze carries a sharp, clean aroma of pine and balsam fir. The mountains in the distance are shrouded in a light fog that clings to the last of the green foliage as fall takes over with its speckling of crimson and bright orange leaves.

“Those golden binds, they feel like witch magic, don’t you think?” My stomach is in knots the more I think about it. Sloane bobs her head from side to side, reluctant to agree that it’s anything less than something sinister. “Do you think maybe I was meant to find him?”

“No,” Sloane grunts. “Wouldn’t you have seen him in your visions if he was someone you were meant to help? I think it was more like some evil omen. Maybe the dagger is what you’re meant to kill him with.”

Blood rushes through my ears. Normally, I’d never hesitate to kill a demon, but something is telling me that killing this one would absolutely, categorically be the wrong decision. I can’t explain it. I really need another vision, hopefully one that shows me something more concrete.

There’s a plaque next to the double doors leading inside the library. Town of Hemlock, incorporated in 1856. First appointed mayor: Delano Ward.

“I wonder if there’s anything significant in the town’s history?” I muse as Sloane steps up behind me.

“It’s worth checking out.” She pulls the heavy glass doors open and steps inside.

“Oh, newcomers.” A young guy with curly, copper hair leans over the front desk grinning. His burgundy shirt is unbuttoned at the collar revealing layers of silver chains. A stack of books sits beside him, along with a half-eaten muffin. “Welcome to Hemlock Public Library.”

“Thanks.” Sloane strides up to the desk with a smile and folds her arms over the counter. “We’re wanting to check out some town history. Maybe old newspaper articles, local lore, particularly from when the town first originated. Anything you recommend?”

My premonitions trigger in one of three ways: when I dream, when I touch something, or when I visit a significant location. Hopefully some text directly related to the town will trigger something for my magic.