The Deal

The Thunder

There is a quality of the human existence that I both admire and abhor greatly; their ability to persist even in the most divisive and improbable cases.

Niall seemed to be the human embodiment of this quality.

My mum continued to be the spiritual equivalent, of course.

"Nova," He whines, following me around as if he was a starving puppy and the candles balancing in my grip were actually Scooby Snacks, "You have to come, please. Just for a little bit!"

Sighing, I ignore his pleas whilst making my way around the shop and placing the sacred candles about the room to disperse their energy. It's been extremely slow in the shop today –only two families of tourists piling into marvel and mock the "trinkets" about the store, Mrs. Bennet for her weekly palm reading, and one monthly visit from the Evangelical clergyman reminding us that wiccan practices and false idols will send us straight to hell.

Those customers are Nana's favorites.

She chases the judgmental radicals away by putting a 'curse' on them.

It's a delightful scene really, even if it was quite cruel. When they begin to damn us, Nana makes wild flailing arm movements and chants in half gibberish half French with her eyes closed until they eventually leave, shouting all of our sins at as until the door slams shut behind them.

They send a different representative from the church every time. The regulars to frightened and the newbies too naïve to know any better.

I can only hope the spirits will grant Nan some leniency in the face of such antagonistic behavior.

Besides that wonderful spectacle, there has been little excitement today. That is, until Niall came bursting through the door and demanding I attend a party with him.

"Niall, you know I don't enjoy parties. Too many vibrant colored auras intermingling and making me dizzy. Not to mention, people don't usually like me attending their shindigs."

He slumps onto the stool behind the counter with a pout and I assume that he expects me to cave, but I opt to light the last candle on the windowsill instead of meeting his imploring gaze.

A red candle to bring prosperity in love, lust, and health.

The lighter sparks against the wick, its flame weak and quivering before blowing out completely.

While candles may be efficient in warding off evil spirits and misfortune, a flame that flickers and burns out as soon as the wick is lit can only bode bad omens to whomever lit the candle –most likely in regards to the purpose the candle was lit for.

Well, that doesn't inspire confidence.

I frown, not bothering to try and light the candle again, my mind swirling with images of Harry –the only man I have any kind of sexually intimate relationship with.

Though red candles are often lit for luck with romance, I can't imagine the flame blowing out as any indicator for a change in the tide between Harry and me.

Mostly because there really isn't a Harry and me. Just Harry and... Well, me... But, separate beings entirely.

We haven't even been intimate since my birthday last week, in fact, besides our training session a few days ago, I hadn't seen or heard from Harry at all.

Not that I mind. Because we're just sexual partners, after all. Nothing more.

The candle must be referring to my health –another purpose for lighting a red candle, albeit a less popular reason.