Page 13 of Witches of Honeysuckle House

“His name’s Ink,” Clara said.

“Appropriate,” Angela said. “And where did you find him? I know he wasn’t here when I brought you in.”

The kitten did a long stretch at the mention of his name, then wriggled his back legs as he prepared to pounce in Florence’s direction. Before he could, she picked him up under the soft spot of his belly and set him on her shoulder. She was rewarded with more purring.

“I never took you for a cat person,” Angela said.

Florence would’ve shrugged, but she didn’t want to send Ink tumbling, so instead she said, “I guess we learn new things about ourselves every day.”

She turned her head and pressed her nose to Ink’s. As she breathed in his soft kitten smell, the bell above the door rang. She glanced overthe top of Ink’s head to find Owen on the other side with a rather large piece of tourmaline in his hands. Ink turned on her shoulder to face him, tiny claws clinging to Florence’s sweater.

“Twice in one day?” Florence said. “Do you have another lesson?”

Owen held up the crystal with two hands. “My reading broke yours.”

Angela stepped out from behind the register. “Where did you get such a big piece so fast?”

He ducked his head with a little laugh and said, “I bought it online a week ago after the crystal encyclopedia fell off the shelf in front of me.” His eyes flitted toward Florence.

“The shop knew,” Clara said, sagely.

“That I’d pull the tower card and crack all your aunt’s tourmaline?” Owen asked.

“That she’d need more protection,” Clara said. “And that she’s lone—”

Before Clara could finish the sentence, Florence interrupted her by lifting Ink and holding him out toward Owen. “Clara got me a kitten.”

Owen set the tourmaline on the counter and smiled so broadly that Florence had to force herself to look away.

“His name’s Ink!” Clara said.

Owen accepted the kitten, cradling him in his arms. Ink bristled a little at first, arching his back and narrowing his eyes. When he started to sink his teeth into the pad of Owen’s hand, Owen rubbed gently between his ears. Ink looked up at him and gave a soft, surprised meow.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Owen said. Then to Clara, “Where did you find him?”

Clara looked up at Florence, the question clear in her eyes. Magic wasn’t a secret in Burdock Creek—especially not with the way her sister used the history of the curse as a part of her branding—but to tourists, that’s where it ended. A cursed family, a haunted house, and a candle for prosperity. The extent of the Caldwells’ magic wasn’t something they shared with outsiders.

“That’s a little complicated,” Florence said.

“Like books falling at my feet whenever I browse the shelves is complicated?” he asked with a gleam in his eye.

Florence laughed. “Something like that.”

“Maybe I can buy you coffee and you can tell me about it.”

A small smile spread across Florence’s face, and for the first time in a long time, she found herself thinking about life outside of Ink & Pages. Owen didn’t live in Burdock Creek, she reasoned, so how much could she come to care about him in a few days’ time?

“Thank you for the tourmaline,” she said, dodging the invite all the same. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know you don’t like tarot,” he said. “Now I know why. Does something dangerous happen every time you look at the cards?”

“Let’s put this in the same category of complicated as the cat and the books,” Florence said.

“Another topic for discussion over coffee, then.”

“Perhaps,” Florence said.

This conversation would be much easier if Owen wasn’t staying at Honeysuckle House.