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‘Hi, sorry.’ He turned the music off and tucked his buds back into his pocket.

‘Are you all right? You seem distracted.’

‘I’m good, thanks.’

‘Are you sure?’ Her grey eyes burned into his. ‘Because your energy seems off.’

‘Just a few things I’m sorting through in my head. I’m OK.’

‘Are you worried about Mia?’

‘No! Why should I be?’

‘Isn’t she coming in today for reiki?’

‘Oh, right. I guess so. No. I’m not too worried about it.’

‘You’ll let me know if there’s anything you need? Or any way I can help.’ It didn’t sound like a question.

‘I will. I promise.’ He headed back into the main shop, listening for the familiar, welcoming creaks and squeaks from the floorboards. But now he was paying attention, he noticed the store felt different… the air was thicker and there was a sense of something almost like anticipation – as if the shop was somehow holding its breath. Which was even more of a ridiculous notion than there being any possibility of there ever being anything more than friendship with Mia.

And yet… there was a faint shimmer that seemed to hang in the air that almost looked like it was glowing golden. He rubbed his too tired eyes. It was just dust.

It swirled slightly oddly in the air, almost forming a pattern – a little like watching clouds – but he convinced himself it was just dust. And maybe a little incense smoke. But mostly dust motes that were catching the light and reflecting it back to him. Which meant he needed to hoover and clean through the shop – because Ophelia and Rayenne definitely wouldn’t do it.

He turned back towards the kitchen, and his breath caught in his throat: the shimmer was more pronounced there, glimmering as it appeared to shift and curl lazily, like smoke wafting from a fire. The bowl of crystals that always sat beside the till – usually waiting to be chosen and given away as gifts – glowed so warmly that, for a moment, he thought Ophelia must have hidden one of her sets of battery lights in the bottom. And the forest-scape painting on the wall appeared to have changed colour, shifting into warmer hues with what looked like blossom picked out on the trees.

He looked at another set of shelves – where some of his biscuits were stacked up, tied with neat bows and labels. When he reached out his hand, the packets seemed to glow – almost in greeting, and he snatched his hand back and watched as they dimmed again.

‘That’s not possible…’ His voice was too loud in the quiet, gently swirling golden hush of the shop.

‘What isn’t?’

He turned at Rayenne’s voice and gasped. The air around her – or maybe the glow – seemed darker, and almost slightly blue as it swirled and twisted, playing with the ends of her hair, and tinting them delicately purple. It was subtle – like looking through an empty glass – but it was there.

He backed away – his heart thudding as thoughts clamoured. All of the things Ophelia and Rayenne had said, the jokes locals made, the – supposedly inanimate – things that apparently grew legs and moved themselves about… the ones he’d put down to more absentminded behaviour from his boss. Was that all real?

‘Aiden?’

He realised Rayenne had spoken… had probably been speaking the whole time, but he couldn’t quite find the words to answer her.

Look who’s finally paying attention. It wasn’t speech in the normal sense and it definitely wasn’t Rayenne. But the shape and meaning of the words appeared in his mind without bothering to go through his ears. The voice was silken and smooth, almost indolent.

‘Who said that?’ He looked around Glimmers, and his gaze landed on Mist – lazily cleaning her whiskers in the early morning sunshine in the shop window.

‘Did…? What…?’ He cleared his throat, feeling stupid. ‘Um… Did you say something?’ He couldn’t believe he was asking a cat.

Did you listen?

‘Don’t do that.’

What?

‘That! Don’t answer me. You can’t be answering me. You’re a cat!’ He backed away further, colliding with the shop counter and knocking over the bowl of crystals and samples sitting there. They scattered, prisms of light flickering across the floor. He picked one up: a tiny witch’s jar with black tourmaline, salt and rosemary, sealed with black wax and the rune for protection. The salt shimmered like crystals while the rosemary glowed softly green. He tightened his fist around it.

Suspicion churned in his stomach as memories surfaced: what had happened with his spiced loaf… how Ophelia had started locking up certain herbs… the zing of energy when he used reiki… the supposedly inanimate objects that wandered around the store. The birds… Mist…

‘This has to be a joke.’