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Chapter One
Cari
Art is a fickle bitch.
Staring at a white canvas with watercolors in purple and black, I let out a sigh. I am not sure what I am going for or why I am struggling with this piece. Glancing over my shoulder at the other completed pieces lining the wall, I grunt in frustration. I even stomp my foot like a child throwing a tantrum.
“Get it together, Cari,” I whisper to myself, blowing some bangs out of my eyes.
Turning up the music with a tap on my earbuds, I hum along with Hozier as I pick up a brush. Dipping it in the white and swirling it through some purple, I brush at the canvas in a big, sweeping stroke. Grabbing some water, I swirl it through, watching the colors bleed and spread.
Tilting my head, I try to see what vision I am putting on this canvas. What do I see? There is a shadow figure in the darkest purples, and stars in the lightest. It could be a landscape of the night skies over the dark forests of Moon Haven.
“Who,” I hum quietly, pointing my brush at the dark figure. “Are you? Whooo are youuu?”
Chuckling at my terrible recreation of the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland, I turn from the canvas. There has been a dark figure in almost all my recent works. I attribute it to all the magic that has been going on all around me lately.
My younger sisters, Luci and Bessi, have been swept up in romances with both a witch and a wolf shifter. Things I only ever read about in books. Things that should not exist in our world, but apparently do.
Moon Haven has always had an air of magic about it. Gareth, Luci’s soon-to-be-husband, is not the first witch to call this small, quiet town their home. If you listen to the stories, at least. Edon, the shifter that Bessi is madly in love with, is also not the first creature to come out of the shadows.
It always fascinated me, the whispers of monsters and mythical creatures. My mother used to tell stories about mermaids and wild lions that became men or witches who wove magic spells on the humans they were enchanted with.
“Wish someone could put a spell on me,” I mumble.
Wincing at the pathetic statement, I grab my brushes because I am not feeling inspired. While I clean up the little mess I made in the garage I’ve converted to a studio, I chastise myself for being so negative.
My sisters both found great men—even if they’re nothuman—so I should be happy for them. I should not be jealous or hoping to find the same. I wonder if there is a reason none of us ever had much interest in regular men.
“What if we’re our own sort of magic?” I wonder aloud.
Nodding my head because that sounds good to me, I stroll out of the garage. Tucking my hands in my overall pockets as the cool October air freezes them, I pause outside on the porch. It is a beautiful night with a blanket of crisp, white stars in the navy skies. If I tilt my head just right, I can see Cassiopeia.
“Sure is pretty up here,” I whisper as I take a calming breath of cool night air.
I am stalling. Since Luci and Bessi found their men, they left the cottage we once shared. It was time for them to go, and I get that. They still come each Sunday for us to have dinner so we can catch up on each other’s lives, but it is just not the same.
We were thick as thieves, the three of us. We did everything together and shared everything, and so when I moved out on my own, I couldn’t do it without them. Luci came first and Bessi a few months later. I never expected it to be forever, but I also never expected it to change so suddenly.
“Stop being a jealous brat,” I whisper beneath my breath. “Go inside, make your stew, and shut up, sister.”
Chuckling again, I head inside with designs on cooking for a few hours. Stew with earthy potatoes and carrots from my garden and a fresh chuck roast from the butcher in town will be a good, hearty meal for a few days. It also takes enough time, so I might stop thinking about how alone I am.
Turning on some music, I strip off my top as I walk down the hall to my room. Singing along with Cher, I kick off my leggings and grab a robe to wrap up in. Heading back to the kitchen, I stop in my tracks.
Outside the vast picture window overlooking town, there is a shadow. It is there just long enough to see it, to make it out as a figure. My heart races, and I take in a painful gulp of air before I blink, and the figure is gone.
“Calm down Cari. It is all in your head, you silly bitch,” I scold myself as I head to the kitchen.
Glancing back, I hesitate. Going to the window, I peer out into the dim twilight of the early evening. There is no figure out there. Nothing hiding in the shadows. It is all wishful thinking on my part. As if my soul mate is out there in the darkness.
“Not in this millennia,sweetheart,” I joke with a bad James Cagney impression.
Dancing in the kitchen to some more Cher, I sing off key as I chop potatoes and carrots. I prep the meat with some seasonings and toss in some chunks of onion and get it cooking. Before long, the whole cottage smells of the delicious stew our mother taught us to make for cool fall nights.
Making a cup of tea, I grab a book and sit by the fireplace. Nudging some wood and some paper scraps with the poker, I get a good fire going. Sitting in the huge chair by the fireplace, I snuggle down with the steaming cup of tea and a book filled with more magic and romance than I will ever know in real life.
Tonight, I am reading about monsters falling in love with the humans they save. It is a simple enough concept. The white knight in shining armor—they just have horns and tails in this story.
