Page 19 of A Dance with the Fae (Mistress of Magic #1)

‘Blue-rinse brigade out in force, I see,’ Aisha murmured to Faye as they walked into Abercolme’s community centre a week later.

Folding chairs had been set out in lines facing the front of the room where the local minister stood, talking to the butcher.

The front half of the hall was already full, mostly with the older members of the community.

Everyone had been summoned to a community meeting about Rav’s music festival, Abercolme Rocks, and Faye had assented; she was nervous about seeing Rav again, but she knew she had to see him at some point.

And Aisha was curious to see him. Annie had wanted to come, too, but she was away on an acting job.

Faye smiled at the people filling the rows; these were people she’d lived alongside all her life.

Some had an uneasy relationship with her and her family.

Some, like Annie, were enthusiastic about witchcraft.

Faye recognised some of them from the circles Moddie would hold in the shop on a Friday night, where they would honour the old gods in the flickering candlelight.

‘Don’t know if I’m helping or hindering you, being here, you know,’ Aisha said as they sat down.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know what I mean. Villages like this one don’t like outsiders. Especially not ones like me.’ Aisha touched her brown cheek. Faye sighed.

‘I wish it wasn’t like that for you. It’s not fair. But, yes. I know.’

‘Tell me about it. I was born in Scotland. Not good enough for some of them, though.’ Aisha smiled too brightly. ‘Most people are lovely. Just, occasionally, I get that where are you from question. Baffles them when I say Glasgow.’

‘They’re very suspicious of new people to the village.

Or people who have been here for generations.

’ Faye sighed. Many villagers still avoided the shop altogether.

And there had always been whispering and sideways glances when Faye had been out and about with Moddie or Grandmother, though they had held their heads high and ignored the whispers.

Faye had learned this from a young age. On her first day at school, after she had bid a tearful goodbye to Moddie, who had mussed her hair affectionately and told her that she’d have a wonderful day, she’d gone inside and hung her coat on the peg with her name on it.

Bel McDougall, her mud-brown hair in two scratchy plaits, had peered curiously at the bulge in the cream lining of Faye’s coat.

‘What’s that?’ She’d touched the rounded shape of the black tourmaline Moddie had sewn into Faye’s coat for protection.

Faye, accustomed to Moddie’s ways – crystals and lavender bags under her pillow for good dreams, herbal tinctures for coughs and colds, searching for faerie toadstool rings for making wishes – had shrugged.

‘Black crystal to keep the bad spirits away,’ she’d explained quite naturally, smiling at this new friend.

But Bel’s eyes had widened, and she’d run into the classroom calling out, She’s a witch, she’s a witch , laughing but casting baleful glances back at her at the same time until Faye felt she was being made fun of, though she didn’t know why.

Tears had welled up in her eyes until she felt a small hand in hers, and turned to see five-year-old Annie’s earnest face topped with a mop of unruly dark blonde hair staring into hers.

‘Ye can sit with me.’ Annie had led her to a green hexagonal table where two boys were sat, and they’d begun a discussion about what their favourite colours were.

After that day, Faye learned that there were plenty more Bel McDougalls, but there was also Annie, who, rather than run away, always seemed to be propelled towards Faye with a combination of fierce curiosity and even fiercer love.

But Annie wasn’t here to fight for Faye today; she was away at another audition.

I hope she gets something soon , Faye thought as the minister banged the table for attention.

Still, it was heartening to have Aisha with her: not for the first time, Faye thanked whatever fair wind had blown Aisha to Mistress of Magic’s door.

The minister began the meeting.

Aisha looked over Faye’s shoulder.

‘What?’ Faye mouthed, and Aisha signalled with a nod to the back of the hall where Rav Malik stood with his meaty arms crossed across his huge chest.

‘Is that him?’ Aisha whispered.

Faye blushed, looking away quickly. Those huge arms had recently pinned her to the ground on Black Sands Beach; those wide, muscular thighs had parted hers and thrust between them, making her lose herself in an ecstasy she had never known. Faye’s heart started pounding. ‘Yeah,’ she whispered.

‘He’s fit.’ Aisha turned back round to look at Rav. ‘Jesus. He’s huge.’

Faye elbowed her. ‘Shh.’ She was mortified and wished she could sink into the ground. What if someone from the village had seen her and Rav having sex at the beach? Oh god. How had she and Rav thought it was a good idea to throw all caution to the wind in the way that they did?

Someone at the back of the hall called out.

‘Ma customers aren’t happy with it. More and more unsuitable bands going on the list, aye. Village is going to be full of layabouts an’ hippies, mark my words!’ one of the shopkeepers exclaimed.

‘I asked Mr Malik to be here with us, as I thought many of you would have questions about the festival,’ the minister explained. ‘Perhaps he can provide more information?’

Rav made his way to the front of the hall; Faye caught his eye as he walked past her, and he shot her a quick smile.

Just for a moment, there were only the two of them in the community centre, and Faye was vividly reminded of the way it felt when Rav kissed her.

She didn’t allow herself to think about the rest of it, because she knew she would blush so deeply that everyone would notice.

‘Hi. I’m Rav. I’m the promoter organising Abercolme Rocks.

’ He stood at the front of the hall, planting his feet confidently slightly apart and resuming the stance with his arms crossed over his chest. Faye couldn’t look at him without getting a lump in her throat; his sheer animal magnetism made her eyes glaze over; instantly, she felt herself getting wet, just listening to his deep, sonorous voice.

‘Thanks for having me here today. I know some of you have concerns about the festival and that you haven’t had anything like it here before, so I thought I’d come and give you some information and answer any questions you might have. ’

‘Why do we have to have a music festival here at all? We were perfectly happy without one.’ Mrs Kennedy, in her seventies, with a flowered scarf knotted around her head and dressed in a fleece of indeterminate colour, stood up and flicked her hand dismissively at Rav.

‘Ah don’t know who ye spoke to, to get permission in the first place, aye. Nobody wants ye here.’

‘Well, you can take it up with the council. They put out a tender for a festival and my company won it; it’s part of their regeneration project.

I’ve produced a lot of festivals and music tours all over the world.

I can promise you that this will be a good opportunity for Abercolme.

Your businesses will benefit – accommodation, taxis, catering, retail; and I’m going to be creating some temporary jobs in terms of site services.

’ He opened his arms in a welcoming gesture.

‘Honestly, I know it’s new, but you’re going to find that this helps Abercolme rather than hinders it. I promise,’ he replied politely.

There was a general murmur, neither positive nor negative in tone.

‘So, we’ve got some amazing bands on the schedule: Science Fiction Pulp Novel, Dal Riada, Green Apple: Red Apple, Kollectiv and Call of Sirens so far. Tickets are selling really well, but we have limited them to five thousand because of the space in the castle grounds,’ he continued.

‘It’s going to ruin the castle! That’s ancient, ye know. That’s our heritage. We don’t want hippies runnin’ around it with no clothes on, spray-painting the stone, breaking things. It isn’t respectful.’ Mrs Kennedy wasn’t going to let it go, clearly.

Rav smiled nicely and nodded, waiting for her to finish.

‘Of course, I understand your concerns. I will say that a festival audience for an event like Abercolme Rocks will be responsible people who love good music. I imagine there will be quite a few parents bringing children. It’s a pleasant outdoor festival event that starts in the afternoon and finishes around eleven, so won’t keep anyone up too late into the night.

’ Rav ran his hand through his hair. Faye liked the way his fringe fell in his eyes.

‘We will have proper security attached to the event. We’ll be holding the festival in the castle grounds, away from the main building; people will not be allowed access to the castle for the duration of the festival,’ he continued.

Rav’s tone never wavered from a practised, steady pleasantness; he had a grounded, in-control energy that Faye found unutterably sexy, but she also sensed his frustration under the professional veneer.

It couldn’t have been the first time he’d had to deal with a difficult crowd, and Faye supposed that diplomacy was part of an event manager’s skill set.

Yet, she noticed that his left hand was clenched into a fist. As Rav caught her eye, he smiled subtly, knowing that she’d noticed his tell, and stretched out his fingers, returning his hand to his side.

Looking at his clenched fist also made Faye even more turned on than she had been already; the suggestion of the brute force he commanded made her bite her lip with desire.

She wanted him again, wanted to be completely overwhelmed by that muscled, heavy body.

Held down, penetrated, possessed totally.

‘All necessary risk assessments have been done. I think, if you came along, you’d enjoy it.’ Rav twinkled a sweet smile at Mrs Kennedy, and Faye was amazed to see her look slightly mollified.

‘Well, I still don’t like it, but I see I’ve not got much of a choice, aye,’ the woman muttered and sat down.

‘Tell you what, you can have two free tickets so you can come and see for yourself. How would that be?’

Faye snorted with laughter and coughed to disguise it.

‘Get on with ye! I wouldn’t want to come.’ Mrs Kennedy sounded scandalised, and Faye wished she could see her face from where she was sitting.

‘All right. Well, if you change your mind, let me know,’ Rav said. ‘In fact, if anyone’s not sure about the festival, come and talk to me about it. And I’m happy to provide free tickets to anyone here who would like to come.’

‘Right. Thank you, Mr Malik.’ The minister stepped forward.

‘I’m sure we’re all very excited about what will be a wonderful new event in the village.

If anyone has any more questions for Mr Malik, please do ask him, or I believe he is going to leave some leaflets with contact details, if you’d like to phone or email him. ’

Rav nodded. Faye watched him, wondering whether to approach him and say something. But what would she say?

Everyone started filing out of the village hall.

At that moment, the village door banged open, blown by a sudden wind. Faye, Rav and the minister looked around in surprise at the rain which had come out of nowhere.

‘Scottish weather.’ The minister shivered as the rain drummed on the windows. It had grown suddenly dark outside.

Faye looked up at the rain on the high windows. For just a second, she thought she saw faces in the water, looking in at them; otherworldly faces with large, watery eyes and open mouths. As if they were laughing. Or something more savage: as if they were hungry.

She walked cautiously out of the hall, through its thick, old double doors.

‘Weird weather.’ Rav was standing by the doors, adjusting the collar on his blazer.

‘Oh. Yeah.’ She looked away, embarrassed.

Faye was painfully aware that they had been shockingly intimate so recently; the feeling of having been exposed returned to her, and she swallowed awkwardly.

What must he think of her? I don’t normally do that kind of thing , she wanted to say.

I wouldn’t usually be so…abandoned . We hardly know each other.

She wasn’t puritanical. It was more that it had just been strange.

The whole time – on the beach, at his house – in retrospect, she had felt odd throughout.

‘Good to see you, Faye.’ He reached for her hand. ‘Hope you’re okay? You kind of rushed off the other night. And I realised I didn’t have your number.’

Aisha was standing a few feet away, subtly staying in the background.

‘I’m okay. Thanks,’ she replied. It wasn’t getting any less awkward: in fact, holding his hand just made it worse.

Being anywhere near Rav Malik set Faye’s whole body aflame with desire…

‘Buying your way into their good books, are you?’ Faye blundered on.

‘The free tickets, I mean.’ Oh god, what am I saying?

she berated herself. Sorry. Just say sorry for running out on him.

‘Oh…right.’ Rav shrugged and let go of her hand. ‘Worth a try. That woman with the headscarf, what’s her name?’

‘Mrs Kennedy. She does the flowers in the church.’ Faye’s heart sank. The moment had gone; if she was going to say anything, she should have said it by now. Rav was trying to talk to her, trying to connect to her, but she was doing it all wrong.

‘Mrs Kennedy. Okay. Thing I’ve learned about places like this is, go for the ringleaders and the rest fall in line. I’ll make friends with Mrs Kennedy, and we’ll see how many complaints there are about the festival after that.’ He smiled warmly at her, and she felt awkward again.

‘Oh. Well, good luck.’ She opened the doors; getting drenched was better than making a fool of herself with Rav. ‘And…I’m sorry. For…you know,’ she blurted, confused, and ran into the rain. Get back in there and talk to the man, idiot! Annie would have said. But Faye couldn’t.

‘Faye!’ Rav called after her. He sounded confused and a little annoyed. She tried to wave over her shoulder, but it came out wrong and she looked like a flailing madwoman as she ran away.

It was nice that Rav still wanted to know her but, after that performance, Faye doubted she’d be seeing him again anytime soon. Letting herself into the shop, she berated herself again. Stupid, stupid . She’d had a chance at something. A real romance with a real man. But she’d blown it.

Summoning love with a magic spell might have worked. But magic wasn’t responsible for what happened afterwards, Faye was learning.