The rest of the week passed without trouble. Friday's date with Calen was pleasantly uneventful, without even the slightest hint of any more attempts on my life. We went to a nice dinner at a local Italian place (jokes about vampires and garlic bread were on the menu as much as the food), went to the movies, and then he dropped me off at my apartment.

I didn't even have any more strange dreams, and by Monday, I'd chalked the whole thing up to a fluke.

The only downside was that I still didn't know much about Calen's past. He was more than happy to talk about himself in the current day. I'd managed to learn that while he considered working for better representation and unity in the witch community to be his job, the work he was actually paid for was marketing. Specifically, Calen designed product launch campaigns that seemed to take off with the public, no matter how silly the ideas might sound. He'd garnered a reputation as someone who could turn lead into gold—

Well, at least figuratively.

Turning lead into gold via magic was a serious bitch of a process, not to mention terrible for the global economy.

A job in marketing and design did explain his flexible schedule, though. It was probably why he almost always replied promptly to my text messages, and those messages hadn't stopped since the date. It felt strange if I wasn't in contact with him, like I was missing a limb or had forgotten my keys.

I leaned against one of the shop bookshelves, looking down at my phone and grinning like an idiot. The afternoon rush had just ended, and I had a few peaceful moments to myself. Usually I was quite prompt about restocking the shelves, but today I was incredibly distracted by the conversation happening in my messages.

I scrolled back to see what Calen had written, but I was so excited that I tapped the wrong thread.

ME: Hey. I know it's been a while. I wanted to check in.

ME: Please, Callie. Talk to me.

ME: I don't know what happened, but I want to fix it.

ME: Why did you just ghost me?

ME: Is there any chance you're still getting these messages?

ME: Callie, it's getting dangerous. Please give me a signal that you're still okay.

I squeezed my eyes shut and closed the app. I didn't really think that Callie would respond, but I wanted to know that she was safe. Even if she never talked to me again after that, I wanted to know if she was okay.

She used to be my best friend. Even after the incident, we were still close. I even thought things were back to where they once were, but apparently not. She entirely ghosted me one day.

I called the police to do a wellness check, but everything came back fine. Clearly, she just didn't want to talk to me.

I didn't know why, though.

It felt like my only lifeline had been ripped away from me. My friendship with Callie had sustained us both for a long time, across long distances, and I thought we were solid. I thought we were both invested. Callie even knew I was a witch. She knew about the Threads, knew how much they scared me, how much I wanted to be rid of them.

Shoving my phone in my back pocket for the moment, I turned back towards the front of the store. The place really needed a good sweeping, and maybe that would help get rid of the adrenaline humming in my veins. Cleaning always helped.

The door opened as I headed back to grab the cleaning supplies, and I paused for a moment to grab an order. It was the same man who had come in right before I went out with Calen the other day, the one with brown skin and a silver streak in his hair. Luckily, I'd already packed his order, so he didn't need to wait on me to get anything together.

That was probably a good thing. I was feeling particularly scatterbrained today.

"What's your name, by the way?" I asked as I rang up his order and counted his change. "I'm so sorry, I'm sure you've told me before."

"Raegel," he said, taking the brown paper bag. "You can call me Ray."

"I'll remember that for next time," I said, tapping my forehead. I seriously needed to know my regulars. It was practically Small Business Rule #1.

Raegel smiled and nodded, tucking the bag under his arm. "Have a good one, Sunday."

I waved cheerfully as he left, ready to get back to cleaning. Most of my supplies was in the closet behind the counter. I had quite a lot of cleaning supplies, considering that I wanted the shop to be as tidy as possible, but for now, all I needed was a broom and a dustpan.

However, when I moved to open the storage closet behind the counter, I noticed something that definitely hadn't been there when I went to stock the shelves.

There was an envelope on the shop counter.

It was dyed bright cyan, closed with a white ribbon and a gold wax seal. I didn't recognize the symbol pressed into the wax, a looping and swirling line that looked more like an archaic sigil than a letter. When I reached for the envelope, my finger brushed the wax, and for a moment it glowed bright white.

Then the seal broke.

I blinked at the cracked wax under my fingertips as I realized— it was a sigil. The envelope was magically sealed so that no one but me could open it.

Sigils, in general, were used by both witches and Sylvans. They were written symbols infused with magical power, and they served simple functions. Complex spells wouldn't work well in sigil format, but things like putting a magical alarm on a doorway, enchanting a candle to cleanse while it burns, or sealing an envelope against nosy people were all things that sigils could be used for.

I brushed aside the broken seal and the ribbon, gently unfolding the envelope. Inside was a thick, white piece of paper with writing in gold swirling ink.

We, the Council, formally invite Miss Sunday Waters to a Private Conclave in Three Days' Time, on the eve of the Pink Moon.

Great.

I swiped past the incoming messages and went to the Weather app on my phone, just to check. The April full moon was, indeed, in three days... and apparently I'd be spending it at the Sylvan Court.

It wasn't technically a summons. They didn't use the word "summoned," so it wasn't a demand, but I was pretty sure they only worded it that way because they couldn't summon me. Calen was right about that: I was a witch, and thus outside their jurisdiction. Unless I broke their laws in a seriously bad way, they had no authority to require that I present myself before the Council.

At least they'd chosen to ask nicely instead of threatening me. I wondered briefly if Dante had anything to do with that... but I could always call him and ask. I should probably call him and let him know I got the message, anyways.

The phone only rang once before he picked up.

"Hello?" Dante's voice crackled through the line. I wondered if the signal was bad on the other side of the Veil, or if they had signal at all.

"I got the summons," I said, not bothering to announce myself.

"And?" Dante asked. Clearly he wasn't pushing me into anything, despite the fact that he was assigned to protect me. I respected that, and I was grateful for it.

"I'm coming to see the Council," I said. "I've decided."

"I was wondering if you'd ever actually call," Dante said.

"Still surprised you have a phone, if I'm honest."

"I learned early on that if you want to pass as human, you need to embrace human devices. Plus, it does make communication easier on this side of the Veil. There's less magic to power our typical devices over here."

I blinked. I'd never thought of that, but I'd also never been to the other side of the Veil. Sylvans did probably have their own magical adaptations on their side of things. If there was less magic on this side of the Veil, though, what kind of incredible power was locked away on the other side?

Something clicked in my mind at that point. I wondered, very briefly, if that might be motivation for the attacks on the other side of the Veil. If someone was blowing random holes in the barrier in order to sneak through, would that let magic leak out?

"Have you... noticed anything weird lately? With the magic around the Veil Crossings?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I don't know," I sighed. "I just wondered if there were any giveaways how people could be sneaking inside."

"It's not just you wondering, I'm afraid," he said slowly. "You... haven't noticed any strange bouts of déjà vu lately, have you?"

My instinct was to say no. Who has frequent déjà vu? Even psychic witches didn't get it very often, and considered it something to pay special attention to.

However, I had been noticing it a bit since I met Calen. I wasn't worried about it, though, and I'd mostly attributed it to the budding soul mate bond between us. After all, some part of our souls knew each other already. It should be normal and natural to have some déjà vu involved in the process.

"Um... maybe a little more than usual?" I frowned, wondering if it was just paranoia or if something actually off.

"I suppose it would be difficult to tell, what with your abilities," Dante conceded, nodding.

"Why? Do the guards have memory lapses or something?"

"Not lapses, no," he muttered. "It's more like... their memories are all a jumble. They're twisted and overlapped, but no one can quite tell me how it's happening."

"And you're thinking....?"

Dante was silent for a moment too long.

"Come on," I pressed. "I know you're thinking something. You wouldn't be asking if you didn't have a theory."

"I do," he admitted, "but it's likely better to talk about it in person. Just... keep an eye out. I think the Hourglass is coming closer than we think."

"Does the Council even know, like, one single thing about this person?"

"Very little, and none that they've shared with me," he grumbled.

Ouch. Clearly a sore spot, but I still thought it was a reasonable question.

"Sorry to ask," I said with a sigh. "I've got to go, but I guess I'll see you for the summons in... three days?" I hazarded.

"You will. Is everything alright now, though?"

"Oh, yeah!" Even I could hear my tone brighten. "Calen's bringing me lunch, and he should be here any minute."

"Ah. Enjoy, then. I'll speak with you again before the trip."

The phone clicked before I had a chance to say anything else. I tucked it back in my pocket just as I saw Calen walking across the street outside the shop, two brown paper takeout bags in his hands.

"Perfect timing," I said as he opened the door.

"Oh? I love hearing that," he said with a smile. Calen put the bags down on the shop counter and leaned over to quickly kiss me in greeting, looking like he'd done it a hundred times before.

Maybe had done this a hundred times in some other life. Calen's comfort with showing affection made me feel more relaxed about our connection, though. He embraced it with an ease I hadn't settled into yet. I was still fumbling and a little awkward about the attraction I felt.

"I've been invited to the Sylvan Court. Officially," I said, waving the paper in front of him. "Actually, I think it's a little more like a gently worded summons at this point."

Calen's eyes went wide.

"Are you serious? You aren't going," he scoffed, like he already knew the answer. It annoyed me a little bit that he thought he could assume my decisions, but I let it slide. We were still getting to know each other.

"I am going," I snapped, hands on my hips. He bristled slightly, but seemed to pick up on my tone of voice. This was not a decision he would enjoy fighting me on, and this was not a decision he got to make.

"Then... Will you please let me come with you?" Calen begged, deflating. "If you insist on going, at least let me be there so that you know you have someone who is on your side."

Dante was on my side.

I wanted to tell him that, but I didn't think he'd really believe it. I wasn't sure if the Sylvan Council would even let someone else across the Veil on my behalf, but if they did, then it wouldn't hurt if it was Calen.

"I told you I'd ask," I said. I still hadn't.

"You asking isn't you giving permission on your end. I don't care what the Council says if you'll let me come along," he said firmly.

I frowned on instinct, but quickly brushed it away. I didn't want Calen to think I was concerned, but... I was. A little. It was actually quite endearing that he was willing to come along for my comfort, but I wasn't sure my comfort was all that was involved.

In fact, I was starting to wonder if there was something he wasn't telling me.

"Why are you so wary of the Sylvan Council?" I asked slowly, eyes locked on his.

"Why? They've purposefully pushed aside and repressed witches for centuries," Calen scoffed. That was certainly one reason, yes, but that didn't seem quite right for his personal vendetta.

"The violence only started recently, though," I said. "Like, in the last thirty years."

"Long enough," he snapped.

Fair point.

It did shut down my line of inquiry, though. Time for a new tactic.

"Did your family live hear the Veil Crossings when you were a kid?" I tried again. "Meet some Sylvans growing up?"

Witches living near the Veil crossing points were few and far between, but there were some mixed Sylvan and witch communities out there... reportedly? What with the tendency for witch and Sylvan news to travel in print, and only in print, it was difficult to come across much information, but my recent snooping had unearthed a few things.

There wasn't much news on the communities themselves, besides that a couple had thrived and a couple had gone downhill very quickly. That was to be expected. I wondered if Calen was from one of those, though.

"My family was... interesting," Calen said with a sigh. "I didn't encounter magic until later in my life. There wasn't any involved in my childhood except from the rare Sylvan showing up here and there."

I paused, digesting.

"You... didn't grow up a witch?" I asked hesitantly, frowning.

Witch children encountered magic from the day they were born. It was traditional to learn the basics of witch-stye energy manipulation as we grew, understanding how to move magical energy like we understood how to read or write or walk. It was odd that a child who knew and understood the presence of Sylvans around them wouldn't have encountered magic, especially when he could work magic so well now.

Maybe he was adopted? It was possible that fully human parents wouldn't have been aware of how to raise or train a witch child, or even aware of his abilities at all.

I opened my mouth to ask, but Calen just smiled and shrugged.

"Story for another day," he said. "My life is a complicated one, and I'd rather you know me as I am now."

That was fair. I sighed, nodding slowly. He'd open up in time, I was sure. Soul mate or not, it was difficult to let every part of yourself out into the open for someone new.

We'd get there.