“If I could just borrow you for a moment?” He was English. But, he was a stranger, and I fought to put my guard back up and break the stare. His surprised expression matched my own, and suggested he felt that same shock of connection too. Our eyes locked, his blue ones drawing in my green-eyed gaze, and a frisson ran through me. Beneath a head of shoulder-caressing wavy dark hair was a strong, smiling face featuring glittering blue eyes. A broad, muscular torso seemed to materialize from nowhere in the ten or so inches of opening between the door and its frame. I slipped back into the shop, easing the door closed to lock up. I try for the whole gypsy-boho skirts and scarves look, but being on the short side, ankle length skirts usually brush the floor on me and sort of diminish the look. My hair, albeit long and wavy, was fine and mousey. I’d always felt her long, wavy ginger hair, tall pre-Raphaelite figure, and exquisite Stevie Nicks dress sense made her look more like a witch shop proprietress than me.
I watched and waved as she turned the corner toward her home. Brighid Pratchett, my closest friend, was the last to leave after having helped me tidy up. I was closing then, with plans for my own midnight solitary ceremony, looking forward to the quiet ritual of healing and grounding I’d planned. It was just past 11:30 pm that Samhain night, and most of my friends and clientele had departed for other gatherings, or their own personal rituals. Having the fence also protects my plantings from the near constant, sometimes harsh, salty ocean breeze and allows me to grow a few nice plants that would not otherwise thrive in this area. The entirety of the gardens is surrounded by a privacy fence, with my private garden walled off from the public portion. The private garden is smaller, quaint and cozy like an English cottage garden, and is accessible only from my private quarters. The public garden, where store-sponsored events and rituals are held, is accessible via a flower-lined walkway to the back of the building. There are several similar buildings along this stretch of beach road, but I’m currently the only shop-owner taking advantage of the upstairs area as a residence instead of extra storage or shop space. My shop with its upstairs flat is situated on a lovely large bit of land just over the road from the beach in a small hamlet between two larger towns along the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Morgaine’s Grove does indeed have a garden - two, actually. It is a connection I that consider to be a great honor. In fact it is legend in our family that the original Morgaine - or as she’s often called, Morgan le Fae - of Avalon and Camelot fame, was the founder, protector, and patron deity of my family’s lineage and coven. I don't share my real name with very many people because names have power, and a witch needs to protect herself.
Cozy grove crying imps full#
I was having an open house at the shop - “Celebrate the Samhain Full Moon in the Garden at Morgaine’s Grove with officiant Morgaine Clemenson”. As it happens, the full moon fell on the 31st of October this year, which made it particularly auspicious for us pagan folk. It is the pagan new year and a time to transition to the coming darkness of the winter months. Samhain to be precise, more mundanely known as Halloween. It was October when I first met the demon hunter. But time travel is not any magic I know of. I own a metaphysical, or ‘witchy’ shop as I like to call it, so I am used to the odd, the weird, the out of this world. And yes, I know how crazy that sounds, trust me. Well, that is, he still existed…somewhere. It had been a wild and hectic few weeks, from the moment the demon hunter walked through the door of my shop until the moment he blinked out of existence.
At least, I hadn’t admitted as much to myself yet. If I’m being honest, I don’t think I even knew for certain that I was in love with him then. Whether those of a particular faith would say the rain was heaven crying at the havoc wreaked by the demon we’d recently vanquished, or hell crying at having to take the demon back was anyone’s guess. The demon hunter didn’t know I was in love with him when he left me on that cold, rainy December day.
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