Rae didn’t look up at me when I greeted her with a hard, “Hello.”
Instead, she leaned over to listen to another man on her team. He wore a black tee with sleeves short enough to show off the vibrant tattoo sleeves decorating his warm beige skin. A pair of red-framed glasses pinned back his thick, wavy black hair. He whispered into Rae’s ear, and whatever was said made her roll her eyes and laugh without smiling. The guy shook his head when Rae whispered back. Her nose wrinkled in disapproval.
“Hi, sorry about the wait. How are you?” she asked, finally meeting my gaze. Her eyes were darker up close, the color like a deep lake after a rainstorm. She held her hand out for my book.
I blinked, stunned by how intensely she held my gaze, actually waiting for an answer to her question. Almost demanding it.
“Alright, I suppose.” My fingers stiffened, nerves like barbed wire coiling around my bones. I blanked, too confused to offer anything of substance.
Her smile was insidious sabotage. It was as if she were playing dirty, but I couldn’t prove how. Couldn’t prove why.
“Octavia,” Rae read off the sticky note and smiled to herself as if she were remembering a joke. “Almost fitting.”
“Sorry?”
“Almost as pretty as you.” She shrugged and uncapped a pricey-looking tortoise fountain pen.
“I…thanks.” I stuffed my hands into my pockets. “You’re Rae.”
My cheeks caught fire. She smiled, gracious enough not to commenton the obvious.
“Rae Jones.” She signed my book; her handwriting was large, loopy, and elegant. It took up most of the cover page, slashing through the title’s font without consideration of aesthetics. “It was nice of you to come out and see me.”
Come out and see me. The tone she used was one I’d assume would come from someone who was receiving support for the first time and grateful for the change of pace. Honored to be given a chance.
Rae said nothing else, pausing as if to offer me a second to gather my nerves and take part in the conversation. She stared up at me. My mouth went dry.
“I hope you believe in your power and never let fear win.” She wrote those exact words above her signature. Every letter took up as much space as possible, edges shoved into one another like sardines in a can.
“I think that nine times out of ten, belief calms fear that ought to be experienced,” I said.
Rae raised a brow. “Did my talk sway you any?”
She offered the book back.
“Not in the slightest, unfortunately.” I didn’t accept the book. It hung between us as I continued, “You did an incredible job, don’t get me wrong. Your gimmick’s sound. Brilliant, even. Encouraging people to believe in themselves and experience some hope. Because every person who thinks they need help can’t possibly hire you. But you can sell thousands of people overpriced ‘cleansing kits’ and books filled with spells?—”
“Rituals and wards,” she corrected with an easy smile. Rae placed the book down, resting her hands on the cover. “I’ve never had the privilege of calling myself a witch and thus cannot cast spells.”
“Rituals and wards,” I amended. My armpits burned with sweat. I should shut up or say something nice.Something fluffy. But I couldn’t stop without finishing my train of thought. It was a compulsively uncharming habit. “With your family’s reputation as leaders in your field, paired with your ability to speak, it’s a brilliant and lucrative career move.”
Rae’s smile changed; one side curved higher than the other. “You think what I do is a gimmick?”
My stomach twisted. I could practically hear my brother now,Shut up and tell the woman she is the greatest to ever do it.
She rested her chin in her hand, gazing up at me.
“Yeah.” I shifted my weight. “It’s a wonderful one. Your business savvy is admirable. I really mean that.”
“How kind,” she said, but she didn’t touch her hand to her chest like she’d done on stage.
“It sets you apart,” I continued, because I seemed dead set on digging my grave and climbing into it in the next ten minutes. “Truly. Your brand clings to the traditional idea of hunters and slayers and whatever you people like to call it. Yet it gives them some power, too. Let’s let them in on the bit. But what I can’t figure out is whether you really believe it. If you actually subscribe to the theater of it all. Since you’re so good at selling it, I think maybe a small part of you has to believe. Or, maybe it’s your family that keeps you in the vortex? Plenty of us stick to the religion we grew up in because of familiarity.”
Rae’s eyes were wide open now. More alert. I hadn’t realized before, but on stage, her eyelids were heavy. She’d even closed them after questions, as if needing darkness to think. As if needing to make mini escapes into her inner world.
But now she was wholly here with me. Truly looking at me. She hadn’t really been looking at any of us before.Maybe she couldn’t afford it energy-wise. Or maybe she just didn’t care to. Whatever the reason, I had little time to speculate. The tattooed guy who’d whispered in her ear before leaned back in, and I caught the ending part of his sentence: “…get the line moving.”
“Have you read it?” Rae gestured to the book.
