𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱

The first day of February dawned cold and quiet, with a soft frost dusting the city streets outside Carrie's window. She wrapped herself in a worn sweater, pulled back her hair, and slipped quietly into the kitchen, hoping to avoid waking her grandparents. She needed a moment to herself, a chance to steady her thoughts before diving back into the strange and terrifying world that had opened up to her.

But Judith was already there, sipping coffee at the table, her expression distant. When she noticed Carrie, she straightened up and gave a small, tired smile. "Morning, Carrie. You're up early."

Carrie returned the smile, making her way to the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee. "Yeah, I couldn't really sleep." She hesitated, then decided to broach the subject cautiously. "Did you hear anything about that detective—the one I mentioned yesterday?"

Judith nodded, her face clouded with worry. "It was all over the news this morning. They said he was ambushed last night, just a few blocks from here. He's in critical condition."

Carrie's stomach twisted. It couldn't be a coincidence. Christian Blake had been furious when she saw him, determined to track her down—and now he was lying in a hospital bed. Had the Black Sky found him? Had something been set in motion the moment their paths crossed

Judith reached across the table, placing a warm hand over Carrie's. "If you're worried, sweetheart, just remember you're not alone in this. Harold and I are here for you, no matter what's going on."

Carrie looked up, meeting Judith's concerned gaze. "I know," she murmured, grateful but unsettled. "See you later."

Carrie pulled on her coat, slipping quietly out of the apartment building and into the brisk morning air. The city was waking up around her, its rhythms steady and indifferent to the secrets she now carried. She tightened her scarf against the chill and began her walk to the small bookstore where she worked. The grimoire was tucked safely into her bag, its weight a constant reminder of the world she had stepped into.

As Carrie pushed open the door to Sew True, the familiar bell jingled softly, echoing through the cozy shop. The air inside was warm and smelled faintly of fabric and lavender, a comforting contrast to the crisp February morning outside. Carrie slipped off her coat and hung it on the rack by the door, glancing around. Bolts of fabric in every color lined the walls, and shelves overflowed with sewing supplies, buttons, and yarn. The store had been a safe haven for her ever since she started working there, and today, more than ever, she needed its quiet solace.

She spotted Mila at the counter, carefully arranging spools of thread in neat rows.

Mila looked up as Carrie approached, her eyes lighting up with a warm smile. "Good morning, Carrie! You're here bright and early," she said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "How was your night?"

Carrie forced a smile, trying to keep the weight of her thoughts from showing. "It was... eventful," she replied, hoping Mila wouldn't press for details. "Anything I should know about today?"

Mila nodded, handing her a clipboard with a list of orders and tasks. "Not too busy, actually. We had a few customers yesterday asking about alterations, and there's a new fabric shipment coming in. Other than that, it's just the usual." She paused, her keen eyes studying Carrie. "Are you all right? You look a bit worn out."

Carrie hesitated, her hand instinctively going to the strap of her bag, feeling the solid presence of the grimoire inside. "I didn't sleep much," she admitted, looking down. "There's a lot on my mind."

Mila gave a sympathetic nod. "I get it. February has a way of sneaking up on you. If you need to talk or take a break, just let me know. We all need a breather sometimes."

Carrie nodded, grateful for Mila's understanding. She moved to the back of the shop, where she started organizing some of the fabrics and setting up the sewing machines for the day. She let herself sink into the familiar rhythm, her mind drifting as her hands worked, but the strange events of the past few days lingered just beneath the surface.

As the morning went on, only a few customers trickled in, browsing patterns or chatting with Mila about upcoming projects. Carrie felt the minutes crawl by, her thoughts repeatedly returning to Christian Blake, lying in a hospital bed somewhere, and the ominous presence of the Black Sky. Her mind was so preoccupied that she barely noticed the sound of the bell until Mila called her name.

"Carrie, could you give me a hand up front?" Mila asked, waving her over. "This gentleman has some questions about alterations."

Carrie straightened up, smoothing down her apron as she approached the counter. The man, tall, dark-skinned and neatly dressed with a white hat on his head, held a long white coat draped over his arm. He looked at Carrie with an appraising eye before offering a polite smile.

"Hello," he began, his voice low and measured. "I was wondering if you could take in the sides of this coat. I've had it for years, but it's a bit too loose now."

Carrie nodded, slipping into her work routine, but as she took the coat from him, she felt a strange, prickling sensation along the back of her neck—a faint but unmistakable feeling of being watched. She glanced around but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She shook it off, focusing on her customer as she noted the measurements and discussed the alterations.

After the man left, Carrie felt a slight tension ease. She glanced at Mila, who was giving her a curious look. "You seemed a little spooked there. You sure you're all right?"

Carrie forced another smile, trying to mask her unease. "Yeah, just one of those mornings," she replied, feeling the grimoire's presence in her bag once more, as if it were urging her to be ready.

As she returned to her tasks, she felt a renewed resolve. She knew the grimoire held answers, and her training with Ebony was only beginning. But as much as she wanted to retreat into the world of spells and ancient knowledge, she had to face the world beyond it too. Whatever lay ahead, she had to keep going, for herself and for the small circle of people she cared about.