Chapter Text
The first day of March is unseasonably cold for California, not even the beachside sun warm enough to chase away the chill. Sophie sits behind the counter of her grandmother’s shop, breathing in the scent of fresh herbal tea and burning incense, watching as people wandered past the front window, bundled in coats and scarves. Somewhere out in the cold are her two best friends, off to find something new for lunch.
Please not soup again, Sophie thinks, propping her chin in her hand and sighing. As happy as she was when her grandmother left the shop to her, it can be boring to sit behind the register and wait for customers that rarely seem to come. The ones that do, the regulars, spend enough that the bills still get paid, but their visits are spaced out and unpredictable.
She’s just eyeing the bookshelf that takes up the left wall, considering reorganizing the titles somehow, then the chimes over the door tinkle. Sitting up a little straighter, she’s surprised to see a young man standing hesitantly in the doorway. He can’t be much older than she is, probably twenty-two or twenty-three at most, and he doesn’t have that curious tourist look that casual shoppers always seem to have. In fact, she can’t remember the last time she saw a single guy under fifty come in here willingly.
“Welcome to Haven,” Sophie calls to him, giving him a little wave when he glances nervously at her. “Tarot cards and prayer beads are twenty-five percent off.”
The boy’s eyes dart around the shop as he approaches the counter, skirting carefully around the display of crystal balls. He takes a moment to study the jars of dried herbs that line the front of the checkout counter and Sophie takes advantage of the distraction to study him. He’s certainly cute, with that sort of boy-next-door look to him. He’s wearing glasses that don’t quite hide the dark circles under his eyes and dark stubble covers his jaw. His hair is a vivid shade of aquamarine, but only on top – the back and sides are dark brown that matches his eyebrows.
When he looks up at Sophie, she’s caught off guard by the exhaustion in his green eyes. Nervous herself now, she stammers, “I, um. Do you need…things?”
Oh, my God, you did not just say that.
“Herbs?” she continues, wringing her hands in the front of her sweater. “Or, um. Uh. Books?”
“This is gonna sound…not normal,” the boy says, his voice echoing the tiredness in his face and demeanor, “but do you have anything for, like, stopping bad dreams? Like, ultra super bad dreams?”
Sophie frowns, glancing at the array of bottles that line the shelves behind her. “Not, uh, on hand. I could make something…”
“Make it?” the boy asks, a little life creeping into his voice. “Like, from raw nothing?”
Sophie blushes a little under his curious gaze. “Um, yeah. I can maybe even tweak it for you, if you’d like to stick around.”
“Uh…” He pulls out his phone to check the time, then says, “Okay, I’ll stay. Do I pay now or…?”
“At the end,” Sophie says, hopping off her stool and circling to the front of the counter. The boy steps out of the way as she collects a handful of jars from the front display. Then she heads back around the counter, pausing by the bead curtain that leads to the back room and adding, “You can come on back.”
Instead of waiting to see if he follows, Sophie ducks through the curtain and sets her jars down on the table by the small cauldron she uses for personal potions. She’s already lit the fire, scattered an assortment of crystals on the table, and poured a bottle of Amazon water into the heavy pot when the boy wanders in, lingering by the door and watching warily.
Once Sophie has gathered the rest of the ingredients, she sits at one side of the square table and gestures invitingly to the seat next to her. As he sinks into the worn, gingham cushion, Sophie holds out her hand and says warmly, “I’m Sophie, by the way.”
“Ethan,” he replies, hesitating before placing his hand in hers.
The instant their skin touches, a cold feeling rushes through Sophie. It’s like someone’s just poured icy water over her, so cold that she almost gasps. Then, as quickly as it came, the feeling is gone. Ethan’s skin is warm against hers, his eyes watching her with trepidation, like he knows something is up. She quickly pulls back her hand, clearing her throat as she wipes her palms along her jeans. The brief comfort she’d found from the thrill of brewing has been chased away by the bizarre handshake, from the cold, unsettling feeling.
What was that? Sophie wishes Ellie was here — she has a sense for evil or dangerous presences. While Ethan hasn’t shown any ill intent, she can’t help associating that cold feeling with something sinister.
“Do you…have nightmares often?” Sophie manages to ask, almost keeping the tremble from her voice.
“Every night,” Ethan responds quietly.
Sophie considers this as she measures out the correct amounts of rosemary and valerian root. Not sure what else to say, she comments, “This is my grandma’s recipe. She swears a priest once bought it and used it as part of an exorcism.”
“Wow, really? Is she, like…what’s the job, where you make, like, metals and potions? It was in that anime?”
Sophie has no idea what anime he’s talking about, but she ventures a guess anyway. “An alchemist?”
“Yeah, that!” Ethan exclaims, more animated than he was a few minutes ago. Sophie wonders if it’s just the distraction of the activity that’s perked him up, but she suspects it’s more to do with the activated crystals on the table in front of him.
“No, but she’s well-versed in everything to do with the occult,” Sophie explains, taking a sprig of sage and adding it to the fire. Almost immediately, the smell of it fills the room. In the corner of her eye, she sees Ethan’s shoulders visibly react.
“What was that for?” he asks, squinting at the cauldron. He reaches for one of the crystals, selecting a milky white one and turning it mindlessly between his fingers. With his elbows propped on the table, Sophie can see that he wears a silver medical bracelet, though she can’t read it from this angle.
“Sage, for creating a pure environment. White sage is better, but we’re out.”
“Are these wands?” Ethan grins and waves the crystal in a little circle. “They kinda look like rocky candy. But, you know…smooth.”
“They’re just crystals, but I picked those long ones for stirring. That one’s selenite.”
“Are you following a recipe?”
Sophie glances at him. “Yes, my grandma’s.”
“Right! You said that already. Sorry.” Ethan slaps a hand to his head, then looks at her sheepishly and puts on an affected voice. “I have, how they say…ADHD?”
“Ah. That explains it.”
“I’m just, like, impressed that you remember the recipe without an actual recipe. A paper one, I mean.”
“Thank you?”
“Yeah, no problem. I can’t even remember a cookie recipe in my head, which sucks ‘cuz I’m doing that for a video soon.”
“You’ll have to let me know how that turns out,” says Sophie, giggling a little. Despite the awkward start, Ethan is amusing and his smile, now that he’s relaxed, is infectious. “So, I’ve measured out all the key ingredients. Now you have some options. Chamomile, lemon balm, or passionflower.”
Ethan studies the jars that Sophie pointed out, considering them for nearly a minute before asking, “What’s the difference?”
“Oh! Sorry, um. Partially taste. Chamomile is floral, obviously, and kind of has an apple-y taste. It’s for less anxiety and more sleep. Lemon is…I mean, it’s lemon, and it’s for stress relief and a sense of calm. And passionflower is more earthy, but it can be a little bitter. It also reduces anxiety and helps sleep.”
“I will take all of the above,” says Ethan, using that silly voice again. Then, more seriously, “Honestly, whatever you think. I’m a little, teeny bit desperate. If I drink any more NyQuil, I’m gonna shut down my liver or something.”
Sophie nods and gets back to measuring. “How long have you been having nightmares? Since childhood?”
“Only for a couple of years.”
“And they keep you from getting good sleep?”
“Yeah. They weren’t so bad at first, but she’s really honed in on the most effective ones.”
“‘She’?”
Ethan flinches, looking quickly down at the crystal in his hands. “Yeah, uh…my subconscious. Total bitch. Really good at making my dreams hell.”
“What’s your sleep environment like? Quiet? Noisy?”
“It’s changed a lot,” Ethan admits. “I’ve tried everything I can find on Google. And I’ve been to the doctor, too. They can’t do anything, so…”
“So you do what everyone does when modern medicine fails them,” Sophie surmises. “You turn to witchcraft and voodoo. Here, put this in.”
Ethan accepts the handful of measured herbs, looks quizzically at them for a moment, then sprinkles them into the cauldron. He watches the surface return to an uninterrupted boil, then admits, “I thought it would hiss or turn green or something.”
“Why would it turn green?”
“I dunno, it’s what…what the movies say.”
Shaking her head, Sophie says, “Movies exaggerate. I have other things you can try, if you’re nervous about drinking something you bought at an occult store.”
“Like what?”
”Activated crystals, sachets under your pillow, salt on your windows and door frames, dream catchers—”
”Dream catchers actually work?”
“Proper ones do. Ones with charged, activated crystals.”
“You sell those here?”
“Yeah, but you have to bring them back every so often to be recharged.”
“That cost extra?”
“No.” Sophie pauses, halfway through chopping mugwort. “Why would I knowingly sell you an item that needs upkeep and then charge you for said upkeep?”
Ethan stares at Sophie for a minute, like he’s expecting her to admit she’s joking, before slowly saying, “To make money.”
Oh. Sophie blushes a little. “Honestly, never even occurred to me. Seems wrong.”
“Then you’re just about the only person in this line of business who thinks so. Every person I’ve ever seen selling crystals and stuff has been a grade-A scam artist.”
“So why come in?” Sophie asks.
Ethan considers this for so long that Sophie’s just about to move on, but then he says, “I just got the feeling this place was legit.” He smiles guiltily. “And, like I said, I’m desperate.”
“Well, we’re almost done. Pick a crystal.”
“What do they do?”
“Mostly the same thing, but you seemed to gravitate toward the selenite.”
“I probably tainted it, then. How about the gray one?”
“Crystals are hard to taint,” Sophie points out, but reaches for the smoky quartz anyway. She uses the long crystal to stir the potion, counterclockwise seven times, then sets it down again. “So, do you want the whole batch of just a jar?”
“The whole batch.”
“It’s expensive.”
“I’ll pay literally anything.” Sophie frowns and tells him the price, to which he doesn’t even flinch. In fact, his tone is teasing as he asked, “Does ‘literally’ mean something different than I think it does?”
“No.”
Sophie gets a dozen empty jars, a small crate, and a ladle. Once the jars are arranged in the crate, Sophie ladles the potion into them and puts a cork in each one.
Once everything’s sealed and secured, Ethan takes the crate and follows Sophie back into the shop. As he circles the counter, Sophie plucks a leather bracelet from the display by the register.
“I can charge this for you,” she says, holding up the thick leather band to show off the quarter-sized circle of selenite embedded in it. “If you want.”
“How much?” Ethan asks.
“On the house. We have dream catchers over there, too. I’ll have to charge you for those, though.”
Ethan wanders away, picking a dream catcher and then exploring a few more displays before returning to the register. It’s one of the more unusual ones, with owl feathers and more smoky quartz. Asking him to wait a second, Sophie takes the dream catcher and the bracelet into the back room.
Taking a deep breath of the linger scent of sage, she presses the selenite between her palms and reaches for that little flow of magic that lives in her veins. She finds a strand and redirects it, feeling the tingle of magic travel down her arms to warm her palms. A faint glow peeks through her fingers and she hears a soft but distinct hum come to life within the crystal.
She cuts off the flow of magic as she starts to feel the drain on her energy, since she still has to charge the dream catcher. It would be better if Ellie were here – her magic is much stronger – but there’s no telling how long she and Nora will be gone. As a compromise, Sophie pulls from the energy from the crystal she wears around her wrist. It’s already close to being tapped out, but she draws what she can and imbues it into the dream catcher.
A gasp escapes her as she pushes the last of the power into the bits of quartz. She feels shaky as she wraps the items in paper and brings them back to the front. Ethan’s brows raise as he notices her weary expression. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Sophie answers, putting his things in a paper bag and starting to ring up his total. She tells him the amount and he hands her a credit card. She notices the name on the card and reads out, “Seán McLoughlin?”
“My friend,” Ethan explains. “He blames himself for causing– um, I mean, for irritating my sleep problems.”
“How’d he do that?” Sophie asks, sliding the card and watching the little circle on the card reader spin.
“It’s complicated.”
“Okay, then.”
The transaction goes through and a receipt prints, which Sophie wraps around the card before handing it back to Ethan. This time, she presses it purposefully into his hand, being sure their skin touches. Unlike before, there’s no cold feeling. Just a little awkwardness as Ethan clears his throat and pulls his hand away. “Thanks. Y’know, for making the stuff and, um…not thinking I’m weird?”
“Of course,” Sophie replies gently. “I’ll see you in, like, a month to recharge your stuff?”
“Sounds good. Thanks, Sophie.”
“You’re welcome, Ethan.”
It’s not twenty minutes after Ethan leaves the store that Nora and Ellie return, cheeks bright red and hair windswept from the wintry weather. The instant she’s through the door, Ellie freezes. Her icy blue eyes scan the shop, looking for danger, then visibly relaxes.
“Who came in?” she asks, setting a couple of paper bags on the counter. The mouth-watering smell of marinara sauce permeates the air.
“New customer,” says Sophie.
Ellie stares at her expectantly, but Nora, engrossed in an orange paperback, circles around the counter and into the back room. Taking advantage, Sophie snatches up the food and follows her. They pass through the workroom and into the break room, a tiny space with just room for a minifridge, microwave, and a small dining table. The stairs to their apartment are also in this room, but Nora sets her canvas shopping bag on the floor and sits in one of the mismatched dining chairs.
“What’re you reading?” asks Sophie as she begins to unpack the paper bags. The little foil bowls of pasta burn her hands as she sets them on the table.
Nora, instead of answering, holds the book up so the title is more visible.
“ The Poppy War, ” Sophie reads, then glances at the description on the back. “A fantasy story? That’s new for you.”
“Not really,” Nora says, not looking up. “I like supernatural fics. But this isn’t a regular fantasy story. It’s set in an historical fantasy world that’s based on a real war between ancient China and Japan.”
“Oh.” Sophie considers asking more, but is distracted by the sounds of Ellie moving things around in the workroom. When she finally joins them, Sophie asks, “What’s up?”
“The shop feels weird,” Ellie says, shaking her head and grabbing a stack of napkins from the top of the microwave. “The aura is all wrong.”
“How so?”
“It feels cold in places. And this one spot in the workroom feels…angry.”
Sophie pauses halfway through uncinching the clear lid from her pasta container. “Which chair?”
“The yellow one.”
Sophie inhales slowly, weighing her words before saying, “I brought him back to brew a potion. He sat in the yellow chair.”
“Who did?” asks Ellie suspiciously.
“The new customer.”
Perching on the edge of a chair, Ellie looks around the room slowly. “What did he look like? Did you sense the bad aura?”
“He seemed pretty normal.” One of Ellie’s eyebrows lifts and Sophie amends, “Normal for someone visiting an occult shop. He was probably, like, our age. Really nice, told some jokes, helped me make the potion. For dreamless sleep, since he’s been having nightmares.”
“So he just got a potion? He didn’t do anything threatening?”
“No, nothing. He was perfectly nice.”
“And that’s all that happened?”
Sophie looks down at the table, then mentally curses herself. What a show of guilt! Since she’s already pretty much incriminated herself with the obvious eye-contact avoidance, Sophie murmurs, “There was a weird bit. When we shook hands.”
“A cold feeling?” Ellie guesses.
Sophie nods, sticking her fork into the pasta and twirling it around idly. Nora, after the silence stretches for a minute, looks up from her book and glances between them. “What’s up?”
“He’s been in contact with something,” Ellie says. “Something dangerous.”
“Who has?”
“The customer that came in today.”
“Ethan,” Sophie supplies.
“What kind of something?” Nora asks curiously, using a folded napkin to mark the place in her book. “What did he come in for again?”
“A dreamless sleep potion. And I gave him a dreamcatcher and bracelet, too.”
“Wait, did you imbue them?” Ellie demands. Sophie nods, making the older girl throw up her hands in exasperation. “No wonder you look murky! Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“I didn’t know how long you’d be, and he’d already been here so long.”
“How long has he been having the bad dreams? Are there any daytime manifestations? Did he do anything else–”
“I wrote it all down in the customer log,” Sophie interrupts. It was routine, when presented with a new customer, to write a brief description of them, their problems, and their purchases and put it in a binder they kept under the counter. This was especially handy when repeat customers who don’t like to give their name came into the store and whichever of the girls was running the store wasn’t familiar with them.
“You tapped out your magic?” Nora cuts in, brows creasing in concern. “Do you need to go lie down or something?”
Sophie’s cheeks flush. “No.”
“Are you sure? Cuz I don’t mind watching the store for the night.”
“I’m fine . Seriously, it’s not a big deal. We’re only open a couple more hours, if anyone else needs something done, I’ll let Ellie do it, okay? You don’t need to baby me.”
Nora and Ellie exchange a look. Sounding confused, Ellie says, “We’re not babying you. We’re just concerned.”
“Yeah…I know.” Sighing, Sophie closes her food container again and stands up. “I’m sorry. I think I am tired. You don’t mind closing up?”
“Of course,” Nora says quickly. “I offered, didn’t I?”
“And I’ll burn some sage in the front,” Ellie adds.
“Thanks, guys. Goodnight.”
Sophie takes the stairs two at a time, eager to get away from the tension. Her exhaustion seems to grow with each step, weighing on her along with the way she’d snapped at her friends. They’d just been trying to help, after all, but sometimes it felt a little…infantilizing.
After putting her food in the fridge, appetite gone, Sophie heads to the small room that was once her grandma’s. Since she and Emma, Sophie’s sister, had moved to Salem, Sophie had taken the room as her own, letting Nora and Ellie share the bedroom that used to be hers and Emma’s. Tonight, she’s grateful for the guaranteed privacy.
After lighting a candle and changing into her comfiest pajamas, Sophie sits on top of her quilt and pulls the old grimoire from her nightstand. Flipping quickly through the pages, she finds the spell she’s looking for and retrieves the required essential objects from the drawer. She might not have enough magic left tonight to make the spell work, but she’s determined to try.
Producing a crumpled copy of the receipt from her pocket, Sophie puts it in the center of the page, arranges three crystals and feathers around it, then holds both hands over them.
“By moonlight’s glow, by crystal’s glow
By the power from the feather of the crow.”
Sophie pauses, feeling the strain on her faint magic as it seems to tremble, waiting, within her. The next part has to be specific to the caster and she considers it carefully before continuing.
“ Protect them both from dusk to dawn
By my own will, protect Ethan and Seán.”
On the last word, she felt an almost painful pull on her magic, the last dregs of it draining from her. The candle goes out and the tension breaks, leaving Sophie so exhausted she can barely move. It’s all she can do to push the spell components and book off her bed before she collapses back on the pillows.
She dreams of Ethan, standing in the middle of the shop, but all the shelves and merchandise is gone. He’s not alone – two figures flank him, one on either side, both shrouded in shadow. A fourth figure, smaller than the others, clings to Ethan’s back, its arms around his neck, its weight strangling him. They don’t do anything, don’t say anything. They just watch, as if they’re staring into Sophie’s very soul.
Each set of eyes is slightly different. One has bottomless, black pits for irises; one has green ones that seem to glow, standing out against black sclerae; and the one on Ethan’s back has eyes lacking any color at all, other than a faint pink to the pupils.
Like an albino , Sophie thinks.
All at once, the dream seems to dissipate into mist. The feeling of being watched eases and she drifts into easier sleep. By the time she wakes up, Sophie has forgotten the dream entirely.