“Can I help you?” I asked, digging my book out of my bag.
Taking my free hand in hers, she closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. “I knew it! Essex...” She whispered.
Snatching my hand away, I backtracked a step or two. Looking around, I checked that no one watched us. It was rude to approach other witches in broad daylight and make it obvious that something was different. Why did the ex-witch act so carelessly?
“It’s okay,” she said, also checking around. “They tried to recruit me, but I wasn’t interested. I think you girls do a good job. Where would we be without you?”
Chuckling nervously, I glanced down at my book, ready to leave the witch and get my book signed. Every one of my senses set off alarm bells in my gut. Something about the woman made me uncomfortable.
“Thank you. We appreciate your loyalty. I must go now.”
My awkward retreat was hindered by two human girls who glared at me when I bumped into them. The ex-witch came forward, her eyes widening when I went to turn away. “She’s trapped.”
Her words made me freeze, my feet going still on the ground. More and more people were piling around us, their excitement buzzing throughout my aura. If I didn’t get away from them soon, my anxiety would start to build. The magic that poured through my veins wasn’t mine, but it was powerful enough to hurt others.
Slowly turning, I watched the witch as she came closer, pulling something out of her pocket. Extending her hand to me, she nodded once and stuck the piece of paper into my palm. Before I could reply, she spun on her heel and hurried into the crowd.
“I love that book,” a voice said beside me.
He was a tall man, his bright blue eyes grazing over me as I tucked the note away. His magic pulsed from him, open and free for everyone to feel. Something about his energy made me shudder. As someone who kept my magic close, I didn’t understand when other witches or warlocks allowed themselves to be open to attack. Energy was a powerful thing, something that could easily be taken by others.
“It is a good book.” Smiling up at him, I took a few steps towards the table where the author sat. “I’m just going to get it signed.”
Nodding quickly, the man followed, showing me his own book. It was the exact same one. I hadn’t seen many males compared to females at book conventions, but for some reason, this certain one unnerved me.
As we joined the queue, we looked at each other awkwardly. Why was the creepy creep being strange? He kept glancing at me, his eyes searching the room as we waited. Was he waiting for someone?
“Your turn,” he muttered when I didn’t notice the author waving me forward.
Fumbling with my bag and my book, I went to sit on the chair opposite the man who had written a wonderful story. He smiled at me, his bushy eyebrows pulled low over his handsome face.
“Thank you for seeing me,” I stuttered, my hands shaking as I placed the book on the table.
Smiling broadly, he took the book and nodded at me. “Thank you for coming to see me. I love meeting my readers and by the looks of your T-shirt, I can tell that you’re dedicated to the art of writing.”
A thrill of excitement rushed through me as he reached over and handed me a card.
“I certainly am. What is this?”
Tapping the book with his fingers, the author pointed at a banner that stood behind him. “If you live locally, I’m going to be starting a writing course. I’m asking all of my readers to come along for the first time for free. I love sharing my world with others, it would be nice to see if any of my readers have their own creative imaginations.”
Excitement bubbled in my stomach. I had never thought about writing my own work, but as the author signed the book with a flourish, a new idea instantly popped into my head. Maybe I could write a book. Maybe I could tell my story.
“Do you have any questions?” the author asked.
Taking the book as he offered it, I shook my head and got to my feet. About to leave, I paused.
“In your opinion,” I said, unable to resist the smile that came to my face. “Who would win in a fight? A female witch or a male one?”
My gaze went to the man who stood waiting, his eyebrows raised when he heard what I’d said. Why had I decided to antagonise the male witch? The poor man hadn’t done anything. Just because Xvair and Lucien Harvey were toxic, it didn’t mean that all male witches were.
Shrugging, the author fiddled with the glasses on his nose. “I don’t know,” he said as he nodded towards the man next to me. “But it seems that that male witch wants to get to know you better.”
Wiggling his eyebrows, he called the man forward. My cheeks flushed hot, no doubt burning bright red as I walked away, shame descending on me.
The human author had been able to tell that both of us were witches. How was that possible? Stumbling towards the toilets, I shoved my book into my bag, trying to regain my composure. Humans were not supposed to know about the underground world but quite a few did. There was no keeping it completely under wraps, even though the government tried.
“Isn’t he dreamy?” A woman spoke to me as I went to push through the toilet door.
Looking to where she stared, I shook my head as both the author and the male witch stared after me, laughing to themselves. It wasn’t a surprise really, I had just made a complete fool out of myself.
“No,” I replied. “My
