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She’s gone!

‘Move, Mist.’ He steeled himself to pick it up, not really wanting to touch it but knowing he couldn’t leave the pain and sadness there either.

Ophelia’s half-strangled yelp made him look up.

‘Oh no, this is terrible! What happened?’

He pointed to the window glumly, where the ghostly imprint of wings now floated on the glass. ‘We’re going to have to get some stickers or something to make sure this doesn’t happen again.’

‘It’s never happened before,’ Ophelia argued as she gathered up the cat. ‘Poor little dove. And such a horrible omen!’

‘You think it’s a dove?’ he asked, more to distract himself than anything else.

‘What other big white birds do we get round here?’

‘Dunno. Not really into birdwatching.’

‘Here. Use this.’ She unwound her tie-dye scarf and offered it to him. ‘Doves are symbols of peace and love – she deserves what kindness and dignity we can give her now.’

‘Thanks,’ he replied grimly and forced himself to scoop the poor creature up, using the bright scarf to avoid touching it or looking too closely. ‘Where do you want it?’

Her, Mist corrected.

‘Sorry. Her.’ Aiden didn’t bother asking Mist how she knew. He’d learned months ago that arguing with the cat was foolish.

‘By the altar, I think.’

‘OK.’ He carried the sad bundle to the corner of the shop and set it down gently.

‘Have you moved my rosemary?’ Ophelia asked.

‘Sorry, yeah. I needed more in the kitchen.’ He leaned on the heavy bookcase which swung open to reveal the kitchen, shimmering with protection, hygiene and cleanliness spells. And a few gentle charms – and some carefully selected herbs – to remind Mist she wasn’t allowed out there.

He was taking a moment to breathe in the calm of the room – the heart of his gift – and recentre himself when two shrieks and a yowl – only one of them human – heralded chaos.

He reacted without thinking, launching back into the main store to find Ophelia crouching behind the shop counter, while Mist paced back and forth, hissing.

‘What happened?’

‘Not a dead dove!’

‘What?’

Ophelia pointed to the shelves, where the bird now sat huddled between an altar candle and a large chunk of rose quartz. It rubbed its very big, sharp-looking beak on the quartz. Aiden gulped when the bird looked at him and he realised its eyes were bright red.

‘Are you hurt?’ He glanced at Ophelia.

‘No, but I think she is.’

‘What kind of bird is she?’

‘Trouble.’ Ophelia winced as a candle crashed to the floor, and Mist jumped back, yowling.

Aiden eyed the scared-looking bird, who was dangling her wings, panting. ‘I don’t know much about birds, but she doesn’t look right.’

‘Agreed. But I get the feeling she won’t step up nicely like our garden sparrows do. She’s not talking to me.’

‘Can she?’