Gypsy Magic - J.R. Rain Page 0,36

as I can tell, there’s less than twenty members.”

I expelled a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

“And you’re right, Finn,” Marty continued. “Fifi and her brother are involved. Almost everyone at the realty office seems to be. Then there’s Lorcan Rowe, the dentist, Stanley Stomper, the Clemmons family, and our very own… Roy Osbourne.” Marty nodded toward the bartender for emphasis. When I looked back, I found Roy’s gaze trained on me. Again, a look, an expression too intimate for words passed between us. I felt the flush return to my cheeks as Roy stared at me. And even though I tried to, I couldn’t tear my gaze away.

Until I could.

I looked away, even as my heart started to pound again.

“What’s the point of their cult?” I asked.

“I don’t know much about it, other than that it exists,” Marty answered. “Henner, RJ and I just noticed them meeting at midnight in the town cemetery more than once—usually while we’ve been heading home from exorcising ghosts. After seeing them getting together so many times, we started asking questions.”

“And what did you find out?”

He shrugged. “Nothing, really. No one in town seems to know anything or, if they do, no one’s talking.”

“Do they ever hurt anybody?” Finn asked, now giving Marty his undivided attention.

“No. Ophelia is deadly to plants, not people. Fifi seems to have a magical knack for finding the worst men. Angelo, Fifi’s brother, is a serial lech, Roy tends to disappear on us at least once a month, Lorcan is a little eccentric, and Mr. Clemmons recently passed.”

***

I stepped back to survey my handiwork. The shelves and executive desk had been buffed to a shining patina, the crystal display case filled to bursting with the more colorful of my ready-made potions. Still more were arranged on the mahogany bookshelves, and the bottommost hosted miscellaneous items: a dozen diffusers, some crystals, a bunch of candles and dream catchers.

Candy jars were half-filled with dried herbs I’d harvested from my garden in Los Angeles before the move. A scoop and gauzy drawstring bags sat beside the jars, in case anyone wanted to make a personalized scented sachet.

I’d optimistically flipped the neon sign Marty had donated on, so the flashing, fluorescent message would get through loud and clear. I was open for business. My shop was dust-free and smelled strongly of wintergreen, just the way I liked things. Soon Marty would be by with my promotional materials, and I could truly begin putting this place on the map.

My eyes burned and my throat felt a little tight as I surveyed it all. This was all mine. Things were finally starting to go right for me. I thought my heart might actually burst.

And then it did try to use my ribcage like ladder rungs to climb into my throat when a hand clamped down on my shoulder.

A half-scream of terror flew out of my mouth and I rounded on the intruder, hands flying up to lash out at whoever was behind me. But, my hands fell away almost at once because the intruder didn’t appear to be an intruder at all. Instead, it was a woman and she wasn’t much taller than me. Probably only five-six, if her posture was on point. At the moment, she looked shrunken, shoulders curled forward.

The checkered blazer and green slacks made her look like an exotic caterpillar, trying to curl in on itself. The taupe silk blouse almost matched the faded grays threading through her dark hair. Her skin was lined, and yellowing, like old parchment. It almost seemed like someone had taken a straw to her and sucked all the color away.

I stared at her for a protracted second. She looked like she could have been my age. But there was something about the energy surrounding her that just seemed... off. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Somehow familiar and disquieting, though I was certain I’d never met her before. I’d have remembered such a hangdown woman.

“I... uh... can I help you?” I managed, forcing a bright, retail-ready smile. It was a little dusty from disuse. I hadn’t worked in retail for a long time.

The woman nodded, though even doing that seemed to cost her energy. It looked like she’d taken purple paint and smeared rings beneath her eyes. I’d never seen dark circles quite that vivid. Had she slept for even a second in the last week?

“I hope so,” she said. “I was wondering if you might have something for sleeplessness and… stress?”

I backed