“Observant,” he noted, but turned to my aunt as he said it.
“Sometimes,” she said. “Declan, Mr. Guildersleeve has an interest in Rowan West’s occult supplies. Found us through that website you made.”
“Declan is your web creator?” the man asked, eyebrows going up.
“Aye, that he is. Has an affinity for electronics and such,” she said. “Some of what Mr. Guildersleeve sells are books of a rather special variety, lad.” Her look was questioning, checking to see if I got her meaning.
“Family recipe books?” I asked, using our code phrase for grimoires.
“Exactly, lad. He’s kenned us out,” she said, watching me closely.
I was already carrying a pretty decent amount of power as it was—just kind of habit—but now I started to draw in more. No such thing as enough.
“None of that now, lad. I’m pretty sure of this one,” she said to me. Levi looked back and forth between us, clearly curious and slightly surprised. “Could you feel any of that, Mr. Guildersleeve?”
“I could,” he said, eyes wide, “and I think you should call me Levi.”
“Levi here used to be a soldier in a distant land,” Ash said.
“Israel,” he interjected.
“He was, he tells me, an instructor in unarmed combat. I asked him to teach you,” she said to me.
This was awfully fast. Aunt Ash didn’t place trust in people easily if at all. Besides her girlfriend Darci, the list was very, very short. She discussed the occult only to the extent of answering general questions from customers of the New Age shop attached to the restaurant. Very general questions.
We were, as I understood it, hiding our nature as witches, especially mine. But Vermont has plenty of those New Age spiritualist kinds of folks, and like knows like. Almost from the start, my mother and aunt had unwittingly attracted those in the population with a hint of talent. After more than a few questions, they had opened a little herb shop at the entrance to the restaurant, gradually adding other items like crystals, books, and the paraphernalia of the occult. Enough to meet expectations but not enough to scream out HERE BE WITCHES.
The website was my idea and my creation, having found that I had a certain affinity for computers, HTML, and other programming. But now here we were, engaging an absolute stranger in conversation about grimoires and self-defense lessons. Which meant only one thing… Ashling O’Carroll had either extremely strong premonitions about Mr. Levi Guildersleeve or an outright vision. And this idea was important to her somehow.
“Okay,” I said, studying my aunt while this new guy studied us both.
Ashling turned back to him. “We’ll have to discuss the matter of payment.”
Money was always an issue. The restaurant business is tricky in the best of times: balancing perishable inventory against expected numbers of diners, workers’ pay against payroll taxes, and a sea of other pitfalls. My aunt was good at it but that didn’t mean we had lots of spare cash lying around.
“You know, I could use an expert opinion on a number of rare volumes I have currently, as well as any new ones I acquire. I have a… nose, let’s call it… for authentic work, but it’s not refined at all. Pricing these things is super important. Perhaps we could work a trade of skills?”
“Perhaps we could at that,” she said, nodding to him and then giving me the get back to drudgery look.
The previously empty tray I had only just delivered was already over half full, so I headed for it on my way back to dishwashing headquarters.
“Declan,” a voice called, female and slightly raspy.
One of our regulars, who fancied herself a practitioner of the occult arts, was waving to me from a small table along the far wall.
“Hi, Mrs. Leonard. Can I get something for you?”
“Just the name of that handsome gentleman your aunt is flirting with,” she said with a sly smile.
Mrs. Leonard had just a touch of Sight, passed down from her ancestors, diluted by time and genetics. She was a bit of a know-it-all but looked up to Aunt Ash greatly. She was also a huge busybody.
“I don’t think that’s actually flirting, ma’am. Mr. Guildersleeve is a book collector. I think he’s either just opened a bookstore or is about to. He likes rare old books and he’s interested in Aunt Ash’s opinion.”
“Oh, he’s interested all right,” she tittered. It astounded me that some people completely missed the signals that my aunt sent out, or more importantly, failed to send out.
The fact that Darci was about to move in with us wasn’t something we advertised, but it also wasn’t top secret either. Aunt Ash hadn’t shown interest in any of the men who were attracted to her, but Letitia Leonard had somehow missed that.
“I think it’s just books, ma’am.”
“Well, he’d do well to listen to your aunt, boy. She’s a treasure directly from the goddess!”
“Yes ma’am. I’m well aware of that.”
“How about you, boy? Any signs of the goddess’s grace?”
“I’m pretty good with computers, so maybe that’s a gift from the goddess.”
“Maybe, Declan, maybe,” she said dismissively, her eyes back on my aunt and her guest.
I grabbed the tray and headed back into the kitchen. Every hedge witch wannabe or psychic hopeful was usually quick to take my answers to their probing questions as a sad truth. Never mind that I was telling them no lies. My ability with electronics was very definitely an offshoot of my Earth and Fire abilities, but I kept all trace of talent tamped down, not using it outside of a warded circle. Even my brief grab for power by my aunt’s side, if Mrs. Leonard had even sensed it, would no doubt be considered Ashling, not me. It got hard at times, always hiding myself, especially when people who fancied themselves Crafters sent pity at the poor, Talent-bereft nephew.
But all Aunt Ash had to do was remind me that my mother died to
