Chapter 1
Two things terrified Luca more than anything — running out of his favorite matcha latte mix, and snakes. As a witch, he’d been accused of not wanting to earn his power enough because of the second and only mildly teased because of the first. In his father’s clan, to be afraid of the snake is to be blind to wisdom. But if you asked Luca, some phobias chose their host and he’d been cursed with a double dose of ophidiophobia.
“Luca,” Gabriella, his mother, called from across the room, pulling his thoughts back to the flower shop. “Please don’t forget we have that delivery of Black Barlow’s due by five this afternoon. If you leave now, you should be able to beat the traffic.”
Luca looked at the time on his phone — three forty-five — then swiftly unknotted his apron and put his sheers away. On the back counter was the bouquet of Black Barlow’s he’d helped her design just that morning, nestled in black tulle and tied with glittering black ribbon. Whoever made this order had only provided an address, but Luca wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up at a gothic mansion based on the dramatic flair of the request.
“Mama,” he called from the back work room. “Could you send me that address again so I can route my way there?” He didn’t hear an answer, but a few second’s later his phone dinged with the requested information and he input it into his maps app before grabbing his keys off the hanger next to the delivery door.
“Be safe!” Gabriella called just before he closed the door behind him.
While he might be training to initiate into his father’s clan, he always preferred helping his mother in her shop. She’d been a floral witch in Spain before following her husband to the States, later continuing her work in a different capacity as a seller instead of a practitioner. Luca’s father, Graham, was intense about magick — specifically which types were more serious than others. He often made his own son feel bad about his inability to conjure serpentine magick, so his guess was that it was the same attitude that had made Gabriella give up practicing. Which was a shame, he often thought. Her love for flowers was her super power, and she’d successfully passed the love down to him.
Once he pulled up to his location, he cross checked the address several times just to be sure. It had turned out to be a rather ornate cathedral settled between a row of upscale apartments with a sign out front announcing funeral services for someone whose name Luca didn’t recognize. But, judging by the number of cars parked along the front, they’d been a very popular person. Although, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a bubble of a chuckle at the morbidity of someone ordering nearly all black flowers wrapped in more black to be delivered to a seemingly high-profile funeral. He felt a sudden curiosity to see the person that obviously hated the person enough to make such a passive aggressive move.
Walking into the church with his dark brown hair disheveled and wearing a very oversized sweater felt somewhat disrespectful to Luca. It didn’t help that it was eerily quiet inside the anteroom when he entered, and he jumped when the door closed too loudly behind him. He had the sudden urge to apologize for his noise even though no one was around.
Unsure what he was supposed to do with the flowers now, he glanced back at his mother’s text that included instructions to — bring the flowers inside no later than five o’clock, and wait until someone came to retrieve them. A glance at the time on his phone told him he still had two minutes before he was deemed late, so where was the person he was supposed to give them to? Flowers cradled in the crook of his arm, Luca turned to the closest painting on the wall to his right, head tilting as he tried to make out what was going on in the chaotic picture.
He was impatiently glancing at his phone again — five o’clock — when a low voice startled him from behind —
“It’s an interpretation of Satan Calling Up His Legions, and a fucking weird thing to have in a church if you ask me.”
Luca spun around to find a young man with white-blonde hair a few years older than himself leaning against the wall, hands loosely resting in his pockets. He was wearing all white, save for a black tie, and Luca knew for certain this irreverent person was the one who’d ordered the flowers. A part of him actually felt an odd sense of respect for the man’s bold choices. He’d certainly never have the audacity himself.
“No weirder than saying the F word in a church,” Luca responded, internally kicking himself for the awkward self-censor.
The stranger’s mouth tilted up slightly at the comment as he pushed himself away from the wall and sauntered forward. He pointed at the bouquet with long, tattooed fingers. “Nice work, tell the designer they’ll definitely hear back.”
“I…I’m the co-designer,” Luca stuttered, his cheeks warming under the newly appraising gaze of the man.
With an appreciative nod, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver coin, holding it between them. “I don’t have cash on me for a tip—“
“I wasn’t asking for a tip!” Luca rushed, his face reddening even more at the implication that he’d tried to get compensation.
“I believe in paying people for their work. It’s a favor coin. Rub it next time you need something to go your way. Now,” he continued, holding his hands out for the bouquet. “I have a funeral to crash.”
Luca accepted the coin and passed the bouquet over in the same motion, shaking his head as he watched the strange man swagger his way to the nave where the mourners had gathered.
