Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I was exhausted.
I was tired to the very marrow of my bones.
I was fucking done.
We were fucking done.
Had I gone to Blackstone Mountain to seek justice… sure. Had I found pleasure in destroying the house of my enemy… yes. But nothing would take away the pain from all I had lost. Nothing would repair my or my brothers’ broken souls. It was time to get the fuck out before we stepped any further over the line, or one of us joined the other dead.
I was so over this fucking shitty life. The Blackstones could keep the opium and drug trade for all I cared. It was definitely time to get out of this darkness. It was time to start over on our land free of farming for an illegal profit. It was time to head back to our mountain where I made the goddamn rules instead of following those of the drug underworld. It was time to rebuild, renew, and start fresh. It was time to live off our land as our ancestors did before us. Before we let the poppy and marijuana leaf take over.
2
Goldie Winters
I made my living, as small and pathetic as it may be, convincing people I was a modern-day witch. I had grown a pretty decent reputation and had a fairly large client base. It wasn’t that I truly knew any witchcraft; I had just mastered the illusion. It was all image, staging, make-believe. But for the sake of my pocketbook… I’d created the atmosphere of magic.
I took a match and lit several candles to help set the mood. A puff of smoky aroma danced its way upward in small spirals. A fusion of vanilla, cinnamon, and rose mixed to scent the room. My loving Granny G had taught me evoking every sense helped sales. I could hear her now. “Goldie, you must consider something as elusive as a faint smell as a possible sale. If people like the aroma, they will seek to purchase the same scent for their homes.”
I looked around Gigi’s Garden. My granny, Guinevere, whom I had called Gigi or Granny G, had put her heart and soul into this place. She’d breathed life into what had once been an old, tired, out-of-date electronics store, turning it into a quaint shop offering far more than tea, tiny finger sandwiches, clotted cream, and scones. It was a pretty and peaceful place. One that welcomed a customer to browse among the many offerings either before or after they enjoyed a light repast. A dining alcove sat to one side. Large bay windows on two of the walls were filled with plants. Shimmering orbs and hanging crystals reflected the sunlight streaming through the panes of glass.
Stepping from the eating space, a customer encountered attractive displays. Tins of various teas were stacked in appealing arrangements, pretty bottles filled with different colored lotions begged to be sampled, and potted plants softened hard edges of shelves as well as offered their very leaves or roots to be steeped into a healing, natural remedy for many ailments. Nature had been providing plants since time began, and healers had been guiding people to improve their lives. Granny G had taught me, and we both were firm believers in the power of holistic medicine.
Although sadly, neither holistic nor pharmaceutical medicine had been able to help my grandmother. Cancer claimed her after a long battle. But as hard as it had been losing my only family, I knew her spirit would always be with me. I think that was why I still ran the shop… for her. It wasn’t truly my passion. But from the number of people currently browsing, it was the passion of many bill-paying people.
Forget the fact I held degrees in both botany and biology. People who entered our shop weren’t interested in the science. They wanted the magic. And I’d learned to give them exactly what they wanted. It was time to get to work and try to make my daily quota in sales. I ran my hand through the haphazard brown curls cascading down my back, adjusted my cleavage in the tight-fitting leather bustier, and smoothed my ankle-length skirt. I was also a firm believer in dressing the part.
Taking a deep breath, I held it for a long moment before releasing it slowly. With a huge smile, I announced, “If there is anything I can help you with, just let me know.” I knew it would only be moments before people who wanted to be ‘cured’ surrounded me.
I offered my clients my diagnosis, my witchy insight, and my advice as to what would fix all their problems. Whatever reason brought them to me, I tried my best to give them their money’s worth. I didn’t see it as a con. In this crazy world where everything moved too fast and demanded so much, I saw it as a way to possibly give them hope and positive thought. If a few minutes of my time, a suggestion to switch from some pharmaceutical concoction to one Mother Nature provided eased their fear, anxiety, and pain, then I felt I’d more than fulfilled my job requirements.