Page 84 of Claimed By Fangs and Darkness

“Evie!” one of my clients exclaimed. Amy was a teenage witch who’d recently developed divinatory powers, and she’d been obsessed with my goods. “Finally!”

All heads turned toward me. Marietta, Celeste’s co-owner, folded me into a hug. She was human, but most of the room were clearly witches.

Kylo fed me strength with his strong, silent presence. My fellow witches had not typically been kind to me, and I’d learned to distance myself from them in order to avoid rejection. However, in hindsight, perhaps I hadn’t always given them a chance.

Trauma was a murky lens over reality.

“Hi,” I said awkwardly, glancing around.

A group of witches to my right sat in a circle, hands intertwined, heads down, and meditative. The sight of it made me sad, a feeling akin to yearning. Another group was reading tarot and oracle cards together, and a huddle of humans played some sort of game that involved swatting each other’s hands.

“Welcome to our little corner of the resistance,” Marietta said with a wink. “I wanted to invite you sooner, but you disappeared on us, and it didn’t seem like you wanted to be found. I’ve been worried about you.”

“Me too,” Amy said. “I lit a candle for you the other day, and I’ve been praying for your safety.”

My throat tightened with emotion. “I stayed away because I was worried about all ofyou,” I said. “You protected me, and I had to return the favor. You weren’t safe with me around.”

Another of my coworkers, Quill, broke away from his huddle to approach us with a warm wave.

“Have we finally moved from pretty faery magick to thegood stuff?” he teased, waggling a brow.

My shoulders relaxed. “Yes, Quill.” My smile was tentative under the weight of so many stares. “We’re dabbling with thegood stuffnow.”

Quill’s eyes widened with surprise, really looking at me now, as if for the first time. His smile returned. “Excellent.”

A willowy, pale blonde approached from behind Quill. She’d been one of the witches who was holding hands in the circle. She nodded at Kylo. “We’re so sorry for your loss.” Her gaze swept to me. “And yours. I’m glad you came, Evie. Welcome.”

I shot Kylo an accusatory expression, realizing this was more than merely a thoughtful reunion and underground party. This was an introduction to Princeton’s witch connections.

He shrugged. “What can I say? I was a workaholic first,” he whispered in my ear. “Before I became addicted to you. Now, I multitask.” He pulled back.

“Thank you,” I said to the witch.

“We’re terribly sorry for you and everyone else who knew Princeton,” Kylo added graciously.

She nodded, panning back to me. “My name is Gwendolyn. Come sit with us,” she said, tilting her head toward the group of witches on the floral rug. “Wedon’t bite.” She smiled conspiratorially, sticking her hands in the pockets of her colorfully embroidered overalls.

She turned, and Kylo all but pushed me forward with a low chuckle.

The group made room for me, and I was quick to scan each of their faces for looks of disdain. I felt like an outsider, and my skin crawled from the discomfort of it. I wanted to bolt.

No one regarded me with any cruelty. Only excitement, curiosity, or their own nervousness. More witches from the other areas of the basement trickled toward us to join the circle. Amy was one of them, tucking her long black bangs behind her ears as she grinned at me.

At first, I thought they were expecting me to give some kind of speech, and my palms were already clammy in anticipation of holding hands with these strangers.

Instead, everyone focused on Amy. Witches sat back, their postures easy and relaxed now. A few bounced with anticipation.I followed their gazes, my own shoulders relaxing as I realized no one was looking at me anymore.

“Okay, here they are,” Amy said. Her blue eyes were wide; her body vibrated with energy. She delicately removed a stack of cards from a small silk pouch. She flipped them over and slid them out onto the carpet. Everyone tilted forward, clamoring to see the breathtaking, iridescent artwork.

I squinted. They were tarot cards, a deck I’d never seen before. The interpretations were gorgeous, filled to the brim with occult symbols. They not only depicted classical interpretations, but I also realized that there were landmarks from Etherdale baked into the cards.

“Oh my gods, Amy!” a male witch exclaimed.

Gasps and awed murmurs rolled through the space as everyone stopped what they were doing to come look.

“You made these?” I asked.

Amy beamed. “Your inspiration candle helped me tremendously. You have no idea.”