I finally looked up, dragging my gaze from staring at my trainers and pavement and found myself on the street of my potions dealer. Why the fuck had I brought myself here? I barely knew her and our exchanges were limited to money and goods.
Astrid lived in a charming little suburb and the place looked incredibly normal. Apart from the fact that most people down here were in the witch community. There were witches, charmers, herbologists, and all sorts of other magic-related creatures. But there was only potions master down here and that was Astrid St Clair. A flamboyant witch with incredible powers when it came to making potions. Potions weren’t just glass bottles filled with colourful liquid. They were an artform and incredibly difficult to master—I’d always lacked the skill. I could conjure you any kind of charm or luck spell, but a potion, nope. I was shit out of luck with that one.
I knocked on her lavender coloured front door and waited for her to appear. She’d hung a large Christmas wreath on her door, and it reminded me that it was nearly Christmas. I hated Christmas. Everyone was so jolly and spent it with their family. I might have Dara, but she was always wrapped up with her wife on Christmas and spending it with them always made me feel like a spare part. I preferred to spend it alone. It was better that way.
It wasn’t long until I heard the telltale crash and yelp as she tripped over something on her way to the door. For a potions master, this woman was clumsy. How she’d managed to weave spectacular potions without adding a disastrous splash of something, I’d never know.
“I’m coming!” she yelled from behind the door.
I tucked my hands into my pockets and looked around the little cul-de-sac. The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention as I stared at the empty street and treeline beyond. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. I wouldn’t put it past Byron to have tracked me down, but somehow, I didn’t think that it was him.
A flash of dark wings caught my attention in the treeline, and I found a large raven sitting watching me.
…a large raven with human eyes…
The door swung open and the memory of my vision disappeared, my attention back on the door and the explosion of colour currently filling the doorframe. A bubble-gum pink wavy bob, bright pink eyes and a psychedelic print dress made up Astrid St Clair.
“Wilder?” she asked breathlessly. “I’m not expecting you, am I?”
“Um, no,” I replied, digging my hands deeper into my pockets.
“What are you doing at my house?” she asked, her heart-shaped face a picture of confusion.
I scratched a finger along my eyebrow. “Honestly, I don’t know. I just found myself here.”
“Huh. I often find myself in the places I need to be when I least expect it. Come on in, I’ll make us some tea.” She opened the door wide and headed back into her house.
I stepped over the threshold, magic wards brushing against my skin as I crossed the boundary. If I’d come with ill intent, the ward would have probably done something horrific to me. I still wasn’t even sure why I’d come here but I shut the door behind me and followed Astrid into the kitchen.
The scent of chamomile wafted through the air as she poured two cups of tea. I plonked my ass on one of the barstools and ran my hands through my hair, tugging at the strands to ground me.
“So,” Astrid said brightly as she passed me a cup, “want to tell me why you’re here?”
Where did I even begin? “Um, well… I’ve been having visions, but apparently, they’re not visions because I’m a Shadow Witch and I’ve actually been receiving messages from the other side of the veil. Also, my father did something horrible to me as a child and it was so horrible that my sister had my memories altered so that I wouldn’t remember but they’re bleeding into my dreams as nightmares. Oh, and I have a psychopathic hitman so obsessed with me that he invited himself into my house without permission and I kind of let him stay the night.”
Astrid blinked at me a few times then looked down at her mug. “We’re going to need something stronger than this.”
She hopped off her stool and grabbed a bottle of gin and two glasses.
“You let him stay the night?” Astrid asked as she poured a healthy amount into each glass.
I snorted. “Out of all that word vomit,that’sthe question you ask?”
She slid a glass over to me. “Hey, if you’re getting some steamy action, I want to know. My cunt is drier than a nun’s so I’m happily going to live through your sexual exploits if you’ve got them.”
“Astrid,” I groaned and took a sip of the gin. It was strong, and I winced as the liquid ran down my throat. “We didn’t have sex; he just slept next to me.”
Astrid blinked slowly, her glass raised halfway to her lips. “You let that gorgeous man into your bed, and youdidn’tlet him fuck you into next week?”
“Did you not hear the part about nightmares? I woke up screaming, and he was there watching me.”
“Mm-kay, that’s a little creepy.”
“Besides, how do you know who I’m talking about?”
“You mean there’s more than one psychopathic hitman out there? Come on, Wilder, you’re clearly talking about Byron Blake and before you ask, yes, our paths have crossed and yes, I’ve supplied him with potions and no, he doesn’t know where I live.”
“I don’t think that would stop him. He seems to be rather resourceful,” I griped, but I wasn’t even that pissed that he’d figured out how to get my number. I was more annoyed that I was letting the man take up space in my brain.