Shattered Magic by Ciara Graves

Author:Ciara Graves [Graves, Ciara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CiaGra

Chapter 8

After the brief moment of violence on the beach, we decided to go to the village. It was a tiny town, composed of only a few narrow streets cluttered with shops and pubs. Old cottages sprawled out around the village at various intervals.

Unlike many other small villages I’d been to recently, this one was not quiet and still after dark. It was teeming with life. In fact, as we walked down the road from the car to the town, it seemed like there were more people in the village than visible homes to house them. The main cobblestone street was congested with foot traffic. There were men shouting and laughing outside of crowded pubs, teenagers giggling outside of shops, and families gathered at the restaurants. No one seemed to mind that it was freezing cold outside. They simply bundled up in their parkas and went about their pleasant evening in the middle of nowhere.

Dahlia muttered something about checking to see if there was a table available at a nearby cafe so that we could eat a proper meal for the first time all day, taking Sophia with her. I assumed that Laurel would stay by my side, but she followed after them. When I turned around to check for Kai, I saw that he, too, had wandered off on his own.

For the first time in a long while, I was alone.

The ocean’s harmony filled me, but the force of the sea didn’t direct me anywhere in particular. For now, though we had arrived in the hometown of Abigail Paquet, the ocean didn’t need me to go anywhere urgently.

That didn’t stop me from feeling antsy. We were, assumably, closer to the serenity stone than ever before… but no one appeared keen to get right down to business. Shouldn’t we be knocking down Abigail’s door and demanding answers?

Not that I was about to do that… but, still.

As I walked down the busy main street, dodging countless people of varying ages, I noticed a tiny shop on the left side of the street. It was no bigger than a broom closet, and a sign hanging on the door indicated that the business located within was that of a tarot card reader. The shop was dark and still, indicating that it might be closed for the night, but I made my way toward it anyway. A tarot reader was as close to a witch as I could get for now.

As I drew closer, I noticed that the front of the shop was not a door at all but a curtain drawn over a tent in the narrow alley between two stone buildings. Thick, velvet tapestries were strung from the exterior walls. It was a strange sight to see in a place that was so well known for constant dampness.

When I was only a few steps away, a hand stretched out from behind the curtains. It was slender, bony, and wrinkled. It beckoned to me, though I couldn’t see the person that it was attached to, nor was there any hint that they knew I was standing there outside.

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