“She likes to keep it simple—books, music, angel figurines, with the occasional reading thrown in. Safe. Benign. Mainstream mysticism where no one gets hurt.”
“And your way? People get hurt?” I study him, trying to pinpoint just what it is about him that sets me on edge.
“Not at all. My goal is to empower people, help them live better, more fulfilled lives, by accessing their own intuition, that’s all.” He glances at me, green eyes catching me staring, making my stomach go weird again.
“And Lina doesn’t want to empower people?” I ask, feeling all fluttery under his gaze.
“With knowledge comes power. And since power tends to corrupt, she thinks it’s too big a risk. Even though I’ve got no plans to go anywhere near the dark arts, she’s convinced they’ll find their way in, that the classes I teach will only lead to harder, darker stuff.”
I nod, thinking of Roman and Drina and definitely seeing Lina’s point. Power in the wrong hands is indeed a dangerous thing.
“Anyway, you interested?” He smiles.
My eyes meet his, unsure what he means.
“In teaching a class?”
I balk, wondering if he’s joking or serious, then seeing he’s neither, just putting it out there. “Trust me, I don’t know the first thing about Wicca, or—or any of it really. I’ve no idea how it works. I’m better off just giving the occasional reading, and maybe even trying to organize this mess.” I gesture toward his desk, the shelves, just about every available surface that’s buried beneath a mound of papers and junk.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He laughs. “Oh, and just so you know, I clocked out the moment you walked in. Gone surfing if anyone asks.” He gets up, moving toward the surfboard leaning against the far wall. “I don’t expect you to get it completely organized or anything, it’s too big a mess. But if you could get it into some kind of order, well—” He nods, looking at me. “You just might get a gold star.”
“I’d rather have a plaque,” I say, pretending to be serious. “You know, something nice that I can hang on the wall. Or even a statuette. Or a trophy—a trophy would be good.”
“How about your own parking space out back? I can probably swing that.”
“Trust me, you already have.” I laugh.
“Yeah, but this one will have your name on it. Reserved for you only. No one will be allowed to park in it, not even off hours. I’ll post a big warning that reads: CAUTION! THIS SPACE RESERVED FOR AVALON ONLY. ALL OTHERS WILL BE TOWED AWAY AT THEIR OWN EXPENSE.”
“You’d do that? For reals?” I laugh, eyes meeting his.
He grabs his board, fingers gripping the edge as he heaves it under his arm. “You get this place cleaned up and there’s no limit to the rewards that await you. Today Employee of the Month, tomorrow—” He shrugs, tossing his dreads off his forehead and exposing his amazingly cute face.
Our gazes lock, and I know he’s caught me again—caught me looking—wondering—thinking he’s cute. So I quickly look away, scratching at my arm, fiddling with my sleeve, anything to move past this moment toward something less awkward.
“There’s a monitor in the corner there.” He nods toward the far wall, back to business again. “That, combined with the bell on the door, should alert you to anyone coming in when you’re working back here.”
“That, the bell on the door, and the fact that I’m psychic,” I say, trying to sound lighthearted, though my voice is a little shaky, having not fully recovered from the awkwardness before.
“Like the way you accessed you
r powers when I snuck up on you?” he asks, smiling in a nice open way, though his eyes are holding back.
“That was different.” I shrug. “You obviously know how to shield your energy. Most people don’t.”
“And you know how to shield your aura.” He squints, head cocked to the side, those golden dreadlocks falling halfway down his arm as he focuses in on my right. “But I’m sure we’ll get to that later.”
I swallow hard, pretending not to notice how his vibrant yellow aura goes a little pink at the edges.
“Anyway, it’s all pretty self-explanatory. The files need to be alphabetized, and if you could separate ’em by subject, that’d be great. Oh, and don’t bother tagging the crystals or herbs if you’re not familiar with them, I’d hate to get ’em confused. Though if you are familiar—” He smiles, brow raised in such a way I immediately start scratching my arm again.
I gaze at the gleaming piles of crystals, some of which I recognize from the elixirs I made and the amulet I wear at my neck, but most of which are so foreign they’re not even vaguely familiar.
“Do you have a book or something?” I ask, hoping he does since I’d love to learn more about their amazing abilities. “You know, so I can”—Find a way to sleep with my immortal boyfriend someday—“so I can get them all tagged properly—and—stuff.” I nod, hoping to appear like a hard worker rather than the self-motivated slacker I am. Watching as he drops his surfboard and turns back toward his desk, shuffling through a pile of books and retrieving a small, thick, well-worn tome from the bottom of the stack.
Turning it over in his hands, and gazing at the back when he says, “This has it all. If a crystal’s not in it, it doesn’t exist. It’s also loaded with pictures so you can identify them. Anyway, it should help,” he adds, tossing it to me.
I catch it between the palms of my hands, its pages vibrating with life as the contents surge through me. The entire book now imprinted on my brain as I smile and say, “Believe me, it already has.”