AS EXPECTED, BUSINESS was initially slow.

On most days Georgia and I would sit in the front-of-house by the counter and watch the sun move through the newly uniform windows from East to West.

I could not afford to have the broken windows fixed, so Georgia brilliantly suggested that we completely shatter the ones with great shards as the remains, and cover them with more tarpaulin-grams. So some had glass and some had a semi-holographic film; in an almost consistent one-after-the-other pattern.

Thus far, a week after reopening, I had sold three dreams. Of course I had not anticipated a throng of customers —I understood that the desolate and abandoned state of the world would negatively affect sales. There simply were not many people.

The sky was now darkening and Georgia was yawning, having been woken up numerous times throughout the night from me coming in and out of the back room to line the shelves with filled jars and bottles.

Creating dreams was becoming easier.

"You may go to sleep," I told the teenager, "if you wish."

"Not tired," she murmured, rapping her nails gently on the counter. Her other hand held up her chin.

"I will be fine on my own," I assured.

"I...won't," she surprisingly admitted.

I frowned, finding the statement a cause for concern. She had been in there on her own all of this time. Why was today any different?

I asked her what she meant by it.

She glanced away and glared at the wall. "...Nothing," she spat. "I just...I'd rather be here."

I reached a logical conclusion. "Have you been dreaming as of late?" I whispered.

Georgia inhaled sharply. "So what if I have?"

"Have the dreams been...pleasant?"

She shrugged. "Anyone can have nightmares, Purple," she answered vaguely. "Just like dreams."

That was quite telling.

"I suppose so." I swallowed.

She still had not confided in me about that day when I had been out shopping. I could not and did not take it personally. She had no obligation, no matter my intention. If I wanted her to trust me, I needed to remember my place. She deserved that.

We sat for a moment in silence, listening to the wind.

It did not appear that we would be receiving any more customers for the day. I got up to head for the door so that I could change the store sign from open to closed. However, someone surprised me before I could do so.

The door was flung open —to my annoyance —and a young female about my own height and age stood before me. The first thing that I noticed was her wide-brimmed pointed hat, edged with dark blue lace and ribbon. Streaks of green and gold patterned her face. Coven Marks, I recalled. Our gazes held; mine being wide and unblinking, and hers slitted. It did not prevent the blue fire within them from blazing.

Or the glowing white magic that was pulsing beneath her pale blue skin, through her veins. It faded after she noticed my eyes looking there.

Then she invited herself inside.

Her floor-length charcoal black hair trailed, along with her weathered cloak. Beneath that, I had only noted a band of cloth the colour of a moonless night sky binding her chest, and low-slung black leather pants.

Georgia looked up in alarm. "...A customer?" she asked uncertainly, eyeing the stranger.

The female turned to study Georgia, and then she looked back at me. Everything about her was feline —from her up-tilted eyes to her toothy smirk. "Kin, why do you keep a human with you?" she then spoke, her voice low and sultry. "Is she...entertainment?"

"She most definitely is not," I answered quickly. "I am temporarily providing her with shelter."

Those blue eyes went immediately for the tarpaulin-gram. Then she scoffed, in amusement. We silently watched, still perplexed, as she sank down on one of the pink cushioned ottomans with distaste.

"...What do you mean by 'kin'?" Georgia plucked up the courage to ask. "Are you two related?"

I suspected that she refrained from making an assumption. She was also ignored, as I had anticipated.

"...You are a Wytch," I half answered.

"How observant of you," the Wytch smirked, tipping her hat. "My name is Kynes," she purred, drawing a bejewelled platinum dagger from her belt. "Certified Cauldron-Forger and Man-Hunter."

Georgia snorted.

"She means the people, not the gender," I quickly clarified, feigning an unapologetic titter. The teenager understandably then ducked behind the counter. I subtly gestured for her to go to the back room —a signal that she thankfully understood.

Georgia scurried away and closed the door near-silently, but I knew that the Wytch had heard it.

Her eyes did not stray in that direction, however. They remained on the interior of the shop. I wondered if she was here for a purpose. Wytches had bad habits of loitering and pestering people as a simple pleasure.

Kynes was like a lazy cat poking at its owner's possessions. She idly twirled her dagger, the bone-white blade gleaming like a dragon's tooth.

Was she out on a hunt at that moment? I tried not to think about the possibility that she could have already killed the humans in the surrounding areas.

I was not human, but I could not help stiffening.

I was inexplicably nervous. I had had visitors of all different species over the years —I knew how to handle a rowdy Elf or an intoxicated Faerie. Wytches were difficult. Their senses were heightened; their covens an immovable force; their numbers usually large.

Not every Wytch belonged to a coven; but all Wytches with coven Marks most certainly did.

This one was alone.

My brows furrowed in intrigue. Kynes did not feign any part of herself —she was genuinely disinterested, even offensive. And I easily noticed the way she eyed my skirt, and the abundance of skin lower down.

I did not hate it, but I was wary. Her kind were as notorious as the Fae Folk of old for keeping 'entertainment' —as she had so politely put.

Though, at least I had averted her attention.

"...Well, as you can see, Wytch, there are none labelled quite as men here," I smiled deviously.

Kynes studied me. "What a clever play on words," she said. Then her gaze darkened. "I hate wordplay."

"How ironic," I quipped.

Her glare did not soften. "...I will let that slide, since you are quite appealing, Dreamcatcher."

She was not simply throwing her weight around. I had to be careful with my words. I knew she meant her threat. She could not kill me, but she could break my human body until I could not move.

"Appealing?" I echoed.

"Beautiful, even," she said.

I turned my head defiantly and bit my lip to prevent anything nonsensical from coming out. She was beautiful too. In a dangerous, deadly way.

Perhaps it was my attitude, my disinterest or simply the fact that I had bitten my lip —Kynes stood and strode towards me, her hips swaying from side to side with arrogant confidence, before lifting my chin upwards with one chipping nail-polished finger.

"You are not fooling me. I see how your human body reacts," she murmured. "There is no need, but you press your legs together anyway."

Like some kind of instinct. I had not been conscious of it. Utterly shameful, I scolded myself.

"...Do you find me attractive?" came the whisper by my ear, designed to unwind me. "As I do, you?"

I let out a breath as my spine straightened.

But I did not go along with the notion. I was not that naïve. She was merely teasing.

I pulled away and walked towards the counter. "Do you flirt with all store staff or are you actually here to buy something?" I said through my teeth.

She laughed —the sound so joyous and soft in contrast to the rest of her —as though I were playing hard-to-get. But she did indulge me.

"I came here because I am on the move," she sighed. "I need somewhere to put up my feet. And I thought, where better than with a Dreamcatcher?"

"What?"

"Creatures of magic stay together, do they not?" she purred, before adding a wink.

"I am not a pitstop on a road trip," I firmly informed her, absentmindedly leaning forward over the counter. She then leaned in as well, too close.

"There is a first for everything, beautiful."

Her use of that word caused me to pout. She smiled. I scoffed and turned around again. "Is there a specific dream that you want?" I snapped.

"Oh yes," she purred. "How about a beautiful female in white lace with snowy hair and violet eyes?"

My muscles locked.

She is not going to take this seriously.

There was another tactic I could use —I did not like flaunting it like this, but if it was the only way to get her to leave then I would try it. I whirled back around and smiled. "I feel the need to inform you that I can interchangeably be a male, as well."

Her smile grew. "I can work with that."

I shook my head. If that did not deter her, I was unsure of what would. "...Unbelievable," I breathed.

She laughed again. "You have quite the quick tongue. Always coming up with something clever. I can not say that I like it, unfortunately. Did your mother not ever warn you about Wytches?"

Her demeanour shifted. She turned from teasing to dark in a single moment. Wytches had been allies with the Fae Folk. I knew about the history of our people, no matter what world we found ourselves in at the present. I knew what she wanted to do to me.

Or rather, what she wanted me to do to her.

Kynes leaned in closer. I drew a breath. I should tell her to leave. I could do that —if she was not going to buy anything, I could throw her out. But her magic was stronger than mine —trained and cultivated over an unknown number of years. I was in a very disadvantageous position.

Yet...something within me did not want to make her leave. I felt no spell overshadowing me —she had not made me react this way. These were my own feelings. There was nothing of love among my kind. But in our human skins, we too felt that urge.

That desire.

That was why I did not move. That was why I let her black-painted lips gently press to my bare ones. It was like peppermint and nighttime. Then she slowly pulled away, and I saw that she was grinning. My skin prickled with gooseflesh.

Too late, I have already had a taste of her.

Perhaps I was drawn to danger.

"...I was indeed warned about Wytches," I whispered. "I suppose that I did not listen."

Kynes stuck her nose in the air. "You would make a decent Wytch yourself, then," she said as a matter-of-factly.

I was not sure if that was a compliment.

"May I...ask you a question?" I murmured.

"It depends."

"Did you come here all alone?" I asked carefully.

She went rigid. And for a moment, the thought that if I was attracted to that which I should not, then I proportionately attracted troubled people, crossed my mind.

"What, a female cannot wander the town on her own?" Kynes said quietly, in a way that suggested she was trying to convince herself rather than me.

"She can," I quipped.

"Then that is what I am doing," she declared.

I frowned. "You are not looking for a place to hide? I would expect many human soldiers to be looking for you and your coven."

She almost flinched at the word 'coven'. Her exterior seemed to crack just a little. Then in a soft, unlikely voice, "...No one is looking for me, I can assure you. I am out and about of my own accord."

"Of course," I said flatly.

"You have no need to fear me," she suddenly grinned, mischievous and feline once again.

"I do not fear you, Wytch," I smirked.

She tilted her head to the side and ran her tongue over her top teeth. "I want a dream," she stated. "But I do not have the money with which to pay for it."

"Pity," I said. "The door is that way."

"But I can think of other ways to make a payment," she quipped, her blue eyes shining.

"I seriously doubt that any of them would benefit me," I said truthfully.

"I do not know about that," Kynes mused, her gaze snagging my bodice. "I think it would be satisfactory for the both of us."

"Kynes of the Willow Coven," I then snapped, slamming one hand down on the counter —which hurt my remaining burns minimally. "This is a respectable establishment. If you do not have any means of monetary payment, then I suggest that you leave."

"Who are you going to call, security?" she purred.

I stopped short and hesitated, knowing there was not much that I could do on that front.

"All right. If you do not want me, I understand," she sighed rather haughtily. "I will not force myself on anyone. But," she quipped as she drew a vintage black and blue ace of spades from her pocket, "here is my card if you ever change your mind."

It was a regular playing card on one side, but the other had an inscribed paragraph on the instructions of a personalised summoning spell in glowing moonlight.

My lips burned as I glared at her. "I doubt it."

That careless laugh again. "Do not be so sure." With a flick of her cloak she was heading for the door.

The smell of lavender and seawater wafted in with the night air as she slipped away. The tension in my body eased slightly, before a shiver ran up my spine.

I wondered where she would go.

Georgia then cautiously opened the back door, ready to slam it shut in case Kynes was still there. When she saw that the coast was clear, she trudged towards the counter and let out a relieved sigh.

"Did she give you too much trouble?" asked the teenager, her cheek resting on the marble.

I swallowed with a little difficulty. "She is simply a big flirt," I stated haughtily.

To my surprise, Georgia suppressed a laugh. I asked her why she thought it was so funny.

"No reason," she snorted. "I just can't imagine what she possibly saw in you."

"Excuse me?" I shot the girl an ice cold look, but all she did was burst into laughter. "Do not laugh. She —she actually kissed me!" I pointed out at a petty attempt to regain her respect.

Her laughter increased.

I was outrageously offended. Even if I did not reciprocate Kynes' advances, it did not mean that she had to make fun of me in that way. I would in no way think that highly of myself and call myself beautiful, but I had a certain standard that I was sure that I met.

I turned away in a huff to at last change the sign to 'closed' on the front door.

"...Where did she go, anyway?" Georgia then asked when she had calmed down.

"I do not know and I do not care," I snapped.

The teenager's amusement instantly died down at my noticeable agitation. She coughed, and then mumbled something that resembled an apology.

I glanced at her from the corner of my eye.

"I would be content to never see that Wytch again," I declared.

"But what's this?" she quipped, reaching for the ace of spades. She flipped it over and read the inscription. "...A summoning spell?"

"Give that back," I demanded, plucking it from her hand. She suddenly gasped. "...What?" I asked.

"Purple," she breathed, her eyes narrowing at my face, "are you...blushing?"

I abruptly slapped my cheeks. "No."

"Your skin is turning this kind of...grey colour," she said. "Is that because your blood isn't red?"

"I would not call it blood, exactly," I mumbled.

"Forget that for a moment," Georgia raised her voice. "And focus on the fact that you accepted a Wytch's card. Purple —you do know what this means, right?"

I stiffened. I did know, and wished that I could ignore it. How could I have been so careless?

Georgia looked grim. "She is bound to you."

author's note |
*stirs the industrial-sized pot*