Page 6 of Hexed & Hazy

He squints. “Everything all right?”

“Yes.” I step away. “Why do you ask?”

“You don’t usually stay this long. Do you need payment up front?”

“No.” I huff out an annoyed breath. “Apologies. I don’t mean to linger, but I asked Seth to meet me here, and of course—he’s late.”

I should have had him meet me at the house. We’re neighbors, and it’s family dinner tonight; it would be all too easy for him to pop over.

Too late for that now.

“Ah. Well, make yourself at home.”

Hard to do when I’m not the only customer in the apothecary. Others browse hand-painted tarot decks, fresh herbs, and spell candles. I suppose there are less comfortable places for a witch than somewhere like here, a place we get our supplies.

Relax. Sure. I can do that.

I walk away and inspect a collection of old, rusty keys—not that I have a use for them in my practice. Crossroad witches use them for their magic and offerings for their goddess.

When Seth enters, there’s no mistaking his presence. The jingle that sounds from the chimes on the door, the huffs and puffs that fall past his lips.

I turn to face him, and he’s… glistening. Sweat shines on his brow as he pulls off his red beanie, his dark hair standing every which way. If Seth Bautista weren’t decidedly human, I would believe he’s one of the gods we worship—with his sun-kissed bronze skin, chiseled jawline, deep brown eyes, and a physique that would put those statues to shame.

I tear my gaze away. “Thank you for coming. Finally.”

Perhaps I shouldn’t push his buttons. It’s clear he ran across town to reach me—unsafe, he could have slipped on the ice.

Some would flinch at the disapproval in my voice, but Seth laughs. His eyes crinkle, he flashes perfectly white teeth, and he throws his head back—just a little.

I bite the inside of my cheek and never make direct eye contact with him. He may be my youngest sister’s best friend, but we’re close enough in age that he and I are…

Well, we’re close too. I think.

“Sorry,” he says. “I tried to get here as fast as I could, but I was finishing up a shift at the café. I had to close early to make it in time.”

I pick up a key, pretending to inspect it. My brow furrows. “Are you going to be in trouble for that? We could have met somewhere else.”

“I don’t think so.” He shakes his head, and in a moment, the jovial Seth I’m used to melts into something else—something, someone, more somber. Sincerity rings in each slow, urgent syllable. “It doesn’t matter. Rowan, there’s… there’s something wrong with me.”

“Something wrong?”

He nods, looking at me with terror. “I think I’m cursed.”

The key in my hand drops to the floor with a loud clunk.

Chapter 3

Rowan

The shop is quiet, empty, and dark—lights out, candles on, and the winter sun is already sleeping. Ozan dutifully locks the doors, preparing for what comes next.

Magic.

Seth lies on the floor, groaning as he settles into place. Ozan places crystals and lit candles around him. All I can do is watch. For now.

There’s a change about him. Subtle. Traces of shadow magic cling to his aura, so faint that I wouldn’t spot it if I didn’t know to look.

Seth may indeed be cursed, but it would have to be a weak one. If it were stronger, the energy would be more prominent.