“Alistair,” I say with a nod. “Good day.”
I continue through town, and when I’m sure that nothing is amiss, I let my shoulders relax.
“Are you looking for something in particular today, Jonas?”
My heart stutters at the sound of Alistair’s voice behind me, but I school my features and turn to the other man with a congenial smile.
“Not at all. I am just out for a walk to take in the fresh air before we get more rain.”
He nods and then stares up into the sky. “I pray the clouds part soon and that God will favor us with the sun.”
“As do I,” I reply before tipping my hat to him and continuing on my way toward my cabin.
But once inside, I’m even more restless. I don’t want to be in my home, reading and researching to no avail.
“You want to see her,” I mutter in frustration. “And that is fruitless.”
But unwilling to fight the impulse, I leave once more and walk to the edge of town—to the bridge that takes me between times.
I leave Hallows End, and by the time I’m on the other side of the small bridge, I’m in Salem.
Or, on the edge of it at least, in a little patch of woods near the neighborhood that leads to downtown.
Each time I pass through, I’m somehow magically dressed to fit the times. I don’t keep a home here with a wardrobe.
The clothes just…change.
I look to my left. I’ve always been drawn to the house at the edge of the woods with its picket fence and lovely gardens. Even long ago, when the curse was first cast, and I learned that I could travel between the two worlds, the house called to me. It looked different then, and has been changed and modernized many times over the years, but the footprint is the same.
The garden is the same.
Now, an apothecary is attached to the house, but I haven’t taken the time to go inside.
I walk up the steps, and my skin begins to hum.
I open the door, and it’s like stepping through an energy field. Every fiber of my being is on high alert, and I smile when a large hound ambles over to give me a sniff.
“Hello there,” I murmur and squat to his level. His eyes meet mine, and I know immediately that he’s linked to the shop owner.
I wonder if they know that this is their familiar.
“That’s Nera. He’s friendly,” a voice calls from another room. “I’ll be right out. Feel free to look around.”
“Thank you,” I reply and scratch the dog behind his ears.
It smells lovely in here, of rose and mint and lavender. The selection of herbs is impressive, and I must admit, I haven’t seen this kind of collection of salves and tinctures in Salem in over a hundred years.
The proprietor knows her business.
Louisa would love it.
“Sorry about that.”
The woman from last night hurries out, carrying a large tray of dried flowers and blowing a strand of red hair out of her eyes.
“Please, let me help.”
I rush over and take the tray, setting it on the table she gestures to before turning to gaze at her.
I’m immediately pulled to her. It’s all I can do to keep six feet of distance between us. I want to reach for her and pull her against me.
I can honestly say this is something entirely new for me.
“I’m Lucy,” she says with a forced smile before clearing her throat and jerking away as if she, too, feels the pull. “I’m the owner here. I’d be happy to help with anything you may need. Is there something specific you’re looking for?”
I believe I just found it. Despite not looking for it at all.
“Do you carry parsley oil?”
Her smile is wide and immediate. “Oh, yes. It’s a great antibiotic, but you must already know that. If you’re feeling unwell, you can put a few drops in your mouth. Sore ear? A few drops in the canal will do the trick. It’s a lifesaver.”
I wander around the shop, taking it all in and trying to tame the unexplained pull. I can feel the magic in here, and it’s like coming home.
“Do I know you?” Lucy asks and walks around a shelf to better see me.
“I don’t think so. I’m not from Salem.”
She starts to reach for me but pulls her hand back at the last second, cradling it against her chest as her eyes widen. “Oh, my goddess. You’re him.”
“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. You’re the man I saw walking through the forest last night,” she says impatiently as she narrows her spectacular green eyes at me. “It was you.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to keep myself under control. I’ve never felt the kind of pull, the kind of connection, that I feel to this woman in all my life.
For the first time in centuries, I’m out of my element.
“What’s your name?” she asks.
“Jonas,” I reply.
“What were you doing in the woods last night?” The question is soft, not accusatory, but most definitely curious. “And where did you go when you disappeared?”
“Are you certain you weren’t dreaming?”
Her lips firm in frustration. “Trust me, that wasn’t a dream. I’m well aware of the difference.”
But rather than push and question me further, she turns her attention to the tray of herbs on the nearby table. She talks as she begins sorting the dried blossoms, putting some in glass jars and others in a bucket.
“I’m not used to finding strange men in my woods,” she says and lifts a blossom to her nose to sniff. “Strangers, on the other hand, that I’m used to. I’ve lived and worked in Salem all my life, and we get more than our share of tourists wanting to have a paranormal experience; to meet a real witch and maybe get spooked just a little.”
“And have I?” I ask as I continue watching her beautiful hands.
“Have you what?”
“Met a real witch?”
Her lips turn up, and with the flick of her fingers, the dried flower plumps back up, turning into a beautiful, fresh bloom.
“Well then,” I say with a nod. “It would seem I have.”
“You don’t have to look far around here.” She puts the blossom in a bowl of water and then returns to the task at hand. “If you’re interested in the history of witches here, I recommend hitting up the museum.”
“Do you think they have their facts straight?”
Her eyebrows climb at the question, and then she simply says, “I think they did well with what they could understand.”
Very well put.
Nera lays at his master’s feet and lets out a long sigh before starting to snore.
“He’s not usually this relaxed with strangers in the building,” Lucy says.
“He’s a good boy.”
“The best.” She reaches down to lovingly stroke the dog’s ears, and I suddenly have a vision of her running those hands over me.
I clear my throat and offer Lucy a small smile. “I like your shop very much.”
The answering smile is immediate and lights up her entire beautiful face.
“Thank you. I do, too. But my favorite place is the garden. Would you like to see it?”
“What if you get a customer?”