I rolled my shoulders and grabbed a tiny brush to sweep the excess herbs off the counter. Dante was still there, looking at me in that concerned way of his, and I wouldn't be able to take it much longer.

He was a kind person. I genuinely believed that, after seeing him once a week for over a year. I had a good handle on his personality, and I liked it. I liked him. I just didn't like being analyzed from across the apothecary counter

"You're not my noon reading appointment, are you?" I asked, blinking at him as I haphazardly pulled off my gloves and put away my tea supplies. I could not remember the name on my schedule for the life of me.

"Afraid not," he said sheepishly, running a hand through his snowy curls. His voice was surprisingly deep for his delicate frame, and it still caught me off guard sometimes, though he'd been coming to the shop for almost a year now. "I came to see if there were any new books."

"Yes! Yes, absolutely!" I couldn't keep the excitement out of my voice as I stood up from my stool and swept out from behind the counter, long skirt swishing around my laced-up combat boots as I hurried to the back part of the shop, the darkest corners of the bookshelves.

Over time, I amassed a collection of strange volumes in the shop. Some were on magical beings, others on witch history, and even more random collections of occult writings that I thought might bring some sort of sense to the random bits of journals and snippets of long-destroyed writings I could find. They really never did explain anything, but I kept reading them anyways. I had copies of every single volume in my personal library in my apartment.

Not once in almost twenty years of research had I found anything more than the barest mention of the Threads. I started looking for answers at twelve years old. I was thirty now, and all I knew was that this magic was rare, powerful, and dangerous.

I could have figured all of that out on my own.

In general, I almost never sold the books. Most people came into the shop for herbs, teas, or tools. I also had a decent number of divination clients, though I purposefully limited my slots for those readings. It was much rarer that someone came in looking for books, especially books on magical history.

That was how Dante and I became friends. At first, he was just an occasional customer, albeit a very pretty one. I had a helpless crush on him for a while, but he wouldn't be my soul mate. He was Sylvan.

That, and considering the fact that he'd come into the shop with a now-ex-boyfriend at one point, I was pretty certain he was gay. That was the real kicker.

Dante watched curiously as I picked a few choice volumes from the shelf and brought the pile back to the counter. His golden eyes followed me like a hawk, and I found myself fighting the urge to stare back, like curious birds just observing each other. It always seemed like a dance with him, but not in a bad way. It was a dance that came naturally, swirling around each other and somehow managing not to step on toes.

If I wanted to, I could reach out with my sixth sense and look into his future. I could see how his day was going to go. I could see him thirty years from now, if I really wanted it. However, I only did that for clients who ordered divination readings. It felt like a major privacy violation in any other case, and it made me feel a little morally icky. Though... I was very curious about those ghostly wings.

He smiled, one side of his mouth quirking up just slightly, but didn't comment on the fact that I was clearly looking at the empty space behind him. He never showed his wings openly when he came into the shop, but they were there every time.

"Anything else new?" he asked, picking up the top book from the stack to examine it.

"Ah..." I fumbled for a moment, blinking.

The front door chime jingled loudly once more, and I turned.

"Good morning!" I called as the door opened. "How can I help you?"

Another customer walked inside, but this one seemed decidedly more human than the last. He was slightly shorter than Dante, but significantly more muscular, black leather jacket stretched taut across broad shoulders. His skin was tanned, though I couldn't tell if it was from the sun or natural coloring, and his dark hair was neatly cropped.

However, none of that was what caught my attention.

This man had Threads wrapped around his very being, shifting towards him like moths to a flame, drawing that energy in. It looked like his very presence caused the Threads around him to adjust, weaving and dipping and realigning with his every movement. It was difficult to see the loops, knots, and colors of Threads that might indicate his past, his lineage, or his magical ability. There were simply too many of them, and they moved far too quickly. He made me want to sit and watch, to dissect everything that I saw until I understood the ins and outs of why the Threads seemed to move, to flow, to adjust to make way for him rather than trap him in his predetermined destiny.

It was beautiful. It was... freeing.

Most interesting of all, there seemed to be one thread that wasn't bending and weaving like the others. It looked like it glowed a little brighter than the others, like it was made out of something strange and transparent. It stretched taut from a point somewhere in the middle of his chest, reaching out across the room until it connected... to...

Me.

"Calen Spade," he said, giving a small wave. "I have—"

"An appointment!" I said, blinking myself out of my stupor. "You're my noon appointment. If you'll have a seat at the table up front, I'll be with you in just a second." I gave him my best customer service smile, fighting back embarrassment with all my might.

Some tiny part of my mind that was still aware of social graces warned me that I had definitely been staring, and I immediately dropped my gaze, turning back to Dante. I knew my cheeks were red, but best to just act normal.

Ha. Normal.

"I'm sorry, but I need to take—" I said apologetically, but didn't even get to finish.

"No problem. Go," Dante said, making a shooing motion with his free hand. "I can wait. I'll go browse the books you picked."

I nodded gratefully, but then took a moment to steel myself as I opened the drawer where I kept my divination tools. I needed to pull it together. It wasn't like visitors to shake me like that.

Calen was was... different, though. He had seriously rattled me, and in such a way that I felt like I might scream if I didn't have a chance to understand why his Threads were so different than any others I had ever seen.

Luckily, he'd booked me for a divination session, so it was possible I'd have the chance to investigate. I'd have to do it surreptitiously. I didn't want to garner a reputation for asking weird personal questions of my customers, even ones who asked for readings. But... I had to know.

It was like something burned in my chest to reach out, to touch those slowly swirling Threads, to find what made them tick, to...

I blinked.

Paused.

Carefully, I glanced at Calen out of the corner of my eye. Something about the sight of him made me almost dizzy, almost giddy, like a strange head rush.

I... didn't want to think about what that indicated, and I especially didn't want to think too hard about the thread that ran from him to me. Instead, I picked up my deck of cards, closed the drawer, and walked across the room to the small front window booth where I conducted divination sessions.

"Hi, there! Sorry for the wait," I said, holding out my hand. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Sunday."

"Beautiful name." Calen smiled brightly as he shook my hand, and again I felt a head rush as our palms touched.

... That was probably my imagination, though. That's what I needed to tell myself.

I opened the drawstring bag with my deck of cards inside, ready to shuffle and deal. If he had a particular question, I could check for the answer, but I usually did that by consulting the Threads. That might be tricky in his case, considering how they shifted around him with every breath.

Looking up from the cards, I opened my mouth to ask if he wanted me to look for anything specific in his future, but a bright light from outside the window distracted me.

It was a good thing, too, considering there was a fireball hurtling towards the window of my shop.