Read Online The Shoppe of Spells by Shanon Grey - Free Book Online

Each person was very pleasant and tended to linger, visiting with her until another customer took her attention.
    Dorian had just suggested they break for lunch when a woman came in with an older man. Morgan could have sworn a cat had slipped in with them, the way that Mrs. T would do, given half a chance. When Meesha whined from the back room, she was sure of it. She walked around the counter just as two women opened the door to leave. The cat, or whatever it was, slinked past them and out the door. Morgan blinked. She would have sworn the outline shimmered.
    She heard a commotion behind her. As she turned, the woman who’d arrived with the older man was hugging him.
    “Papa?” She heard the catch in the woman’s voice. The woman’s eyes swam with tears.
    “Cathy?” The old man looked at his daughter, then around, confusion etched on his face.
    “Yes, Papa,” she said and hugged him again. She turned to Morgan. “He hasn’t said my name in three weeks.”
    “Dorian?” the older man said. Dorian stepped forward.
    “Melissa?” He looked at Morgan.
    “No, Mr. Parker,” Dorian corrected gently, “this is Melissa’s daughter, Morgan.”
    “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Parker.” She turned to his daughter.
    “I’m Cathy,” the woman smiled at Morgan.
    “Does he need to sit down?” Morgan asked, watching the man’s gaze dart around the room.
    “No…I think we’ll go home now.” She turned back to her father and guided him to the door. “Oh, Papa, it’s so nice to have you back.”
    “I’ve had such a bad headache,” the old man commented.
    Cathy quietly closed the door behind them, watching her father carefully.
    “Do we need to call a doctor?” Morgan asked. “He said he’s been suffering from headaches. It could be a stroke.”
    “It’s not,” Dorian said flatly, as he turned the sign over and locked the door. “We need to talk.”
    She followed him into the kitchen. He didn’t stop. Meesha danced out the door as he held it open. Without another word, he walked over to the cottage and held that door, once again adjusting the top to stay open. It seemed a little warm to keep the door open, but Morgan said nothing, just followed him inside.
    “You need to do as I say. It’s extremely important.”
    She stopped, nerves tingling. “What?” she looked at him.
    Dorian walked over to the carpet where he had dragged her last night and held his hand out to her. “Come,” he beckoned. She resisted.
    “Hurry. Trust me, Morgan. You won’t get hurt. But we have to hurry.”
    She stepped toward him. When he started to pull her into his arms, she stepped back. The shock was quick, stinging. “Okay, we’ll try it another way.” He held out both hands. “Five points of our bodies have to touch. We’ll try hands, feet, and forehead.” When she hesitated, he urged, “Hurry.” Then, softening his voice, added, “Please.”
    Morgan stepped in front of him. He took both hands simultaneously. The jolt wasn’t as strong but she could still feel the current flow from him to her. He positioned his feet just outside of hers and bent his head, touching his forehead to hers. They were close, intimate. She could feel his breath as he spoke. “Close your eyes. Or open them. Just don’t move, whatever you do.”
    “You’re frightening me.” She pulled back. He held fast.
    “Don’t break contact,” he ordered. Frightened, but compelled by his urgency, she stepped back toward him.
    Out of her peripheral vision, she saw the stones begin to glow. The fibers in the rug beneath her shimmered. She heard rustling. He held her hands tighter. She swallowed. She could feel sweat on her palm. Morgan wanted to pull back—she definitely didn’t want to sweat into his hands. Then she realized that was the least of her problems. Sitting over by the window, Meesha started to whine.
    “Quiet, girl,” Dorian soothed.
    The dog quieted but continued to stare at the rug.
    “You’re still frightening me,”