“She’s a witch or Wiccan,” he explained, as if those two things were one and the same. “She owns the Magic Apothecary in town,” he added, as if this made it any better. He had to know how absurd his explanation sounded. It did, however, explain the rosemary.

I kept my smile in place as he pulled out cash and handed it to me. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you,” should have been my only response. The next words to come out of my mouth would be ignored, but I would say them anyway. “Knowledge of herbs doesn’t make her a witch. Be careful, both of you. It takes more than rosemary.” I spun and walked away then. I knew from past experiences that warning those who danced too close to the darkness they craved but were no part of it, did no good. They were always offended by the truth. They wanted to be magical, and when someone told them they couldn’t just choose to be charmed, the Wiccans got defensive.

I needed to check on the new table Heath had handed off to me, but first, I was going to the back to wait for the rosemary guy to leave. He’d most likely try to defend his girlfriend or think I was some religious zealot who was trying to save her soul. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with him anymore. I’d said all I was going to say.

“The crazy is all over this town. Gotta love October in Savannah,” I heard a customer say to his date. Her laughter followed. It was easy to find this amusing. I wanted to laugh it off too. Pretend it was all fun and games. Let them be “witches” and have their meetings in the woods, wear their dark clothing, and sell “spells” from their storefronts.

Once, I had ignored it and not wanted to warn them. I hadn’t known of the harm it could cause. I hadn’t known of the dark, cursed souls who found their own amusement in women like that one. I knew now that if they got too close, found out too much, realized there were souls among them with more power than their herbs could create, then in a blink of an eye, their life would be lost.

I inhaled deeply, pushing back the memory of the pale, lifeless face of a teenage boy who had gotten too close. Found out too much. His obsession with my sister had led to stalking, to seeing more than he should, and my mother had made sure he never saw another thing. Childhood memories for me weren’t happy and inviting; they were dark and twisted. I couldn’t dwell on them for too long and still lead a normal life.