Page 27 of Herbs & Hex-breaking

“Hey,” Circe called out as she walked over.

“I found Dex’s sister Bethany’s social media accounts,” I said.

“Uncover anything interesting, Sherlock?”

“She has quite the following on social media, but from my personal view, it’s disturbing.”

“Why?”

“Because she fancies herself a practitioner.”

Circe held out a hand for my phone. “Lemme see.”

Circe swiped through the posts. “Damn it, I hate these influencer witchy wannabes.”

“So do I,” I said quietly.

“By the old gods, she’s got some nasty spells on here.” Circe scowled at my phone screen. “This profile is set up to generate as much traffic and attention as possible. Folks will assume if she has that many followers then whatever magickal bullshit she is pushing, it must be legit.”

I nodded. “This probably explains one of the reasons Mrs. Poindexter was so hateful to me today.”

“I just think that old bitch is nasty,” Circe said.

My lips twitched. “Agreed, but there was a level of vehemence about witchcraft and the shop in her voice. Now I think I understand why.”

Circe rolled her eyes. “Good grief, look at the hashtags. Hashtag revenge magick, hashtag witch, hashtag spells...anyone stupid enough to follow her advice is only going unleash chaos.”

“Social media has not done modern Witches any favors,” I said. “Goddess forbid, you actually crack open a book, take a class, and study the rules of spell casting. More folks need to understand cause and effect—and karma—before they start flinging magick around.”

“Which segues into the other topic I wanted to talk to you about,” Circe said, handing me back my phone. “I’m going to begin offering classes on the Craft. I’ll hold them after hours. I’m thinking Thursday nights.”

“You’ve always said that you wanted to.”

Circe flipped her hair behind her back. “Would you be interested in teaching a class on magickal herbalism?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Let’s see how many students you get and then we’ll talk about it more.”

“Cool.” She nodded. “I’m going to put a sign-up sheet at my front counter.”

“I’m going to work on the shop’s social media pages today. Feature the seasonal spice mixes and so forth. Thanksgiving is coming up and my mulling spices and other culinary herbs always sell well in November and December.”

Circe smiled. “I love it when you bust out your big old crockpot and offer mulled cider samples on weekends in the fall.”

“Yeah, me too,” I agreed. “It always makes the shop smell so homey.”

“Listen,” Circe said. “If you need anything, or if what’s-her-face comes back in, you give me a shout.”

“Absolutely. We should also probably give Taylor and Toni a heads up, in case Mrs. Poindexter decides to come back during business hours.”

“Good idea,” she said. “Taylor and Toni are both due in this afternoon. We’ll bring them up to speed.” And with a waggle of her fingers, my cousin slipped back through the adjoining door and back to her own shop.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, planted my feet firmly, and grounded and centered myself. After a few deep, stabilizing breaths, I reopened my eyes and went about my business. I began to set up a few pretty vignettes so I could photograph them in order to advertise my seasonal spices and culinary herbs.

***

Two more weeks had passed. We were now halfway through November, and there was still no sign of Dex. He hadn’t reached out to Lorna either, and I wondered if he was gone, as in taken off for someplace new, for good.

Hattie had come and delivered my monthly order of houseplants, and while she was here, she collected her vintage wedding dress. We chatted for a bit, and she reported to me that the bad luck and other problems she and her fiancé had been having were settling down.