I've always had a love for books, surrounded myself with them and their comforting smell, so it wasn't really a surprise when i opened a book shop of my own.
Since i was little i collected books, but not normally the ones for human viewing.
I was a witch, tomes, grimores were more my thing but i loved all books the same.
I was an odd one, aside from being male and a witch, which was pretty much an impossibility, i was also an unusually skilled one for my age. I'd like to think it was due to all the books i'd read but i knew that wasn't the case as much as i wish it was.
Being in a coven full of women who stared and whispered at my strangeness wasn't something i would bare for longer than i had to. So i'd moved away, to a little town that i knew was far from any known coven, hoping for some quiet solitude.
But like in the books i so loved to read that never ended up happening.
I'd been open for a week, i hadn't gotten many customers so far but word had gotten around about the store and the fact i was offering a few free sweet treats to those that came in the store.
I was okay with the quietness, happy enough to immerse myself in a book behind the counter. I'd recently purchased the book online, it was interesting to say the least, an autobiography of a long dead and powerful witch. Agatha Raven, she was a trail blazer in her day, and i didn't just mean in witchcraft, from her detailed retelling she was also quite the temptress. She'd also birthed fourteen daughters from her dabbles with strangers, something that was actually quite common with witches. We weren't ones for long, commited relationships, our love was our magic and our covens our family.
The witch gene could only apparently pass from mother to daughter, i was clear proof that wasn't true. Witches also only birthed daughters, again my existence proved that wasn't always the case.
I was a distant decendant of Agatha Raven, which is why i'd snatched up her book as soon as i'd seen it. I'd grown up with stories about the famous witch, learned some of the spells she created and now i was reading the tales of her debauchery with the dashing gentlemen of the Victorian era.
There were some obscure titbits about magic and a few of her less known spells in the book but it did tell me a lot more about my distant relative in the late 1800's.
Sylva Raven was my name, named after a great grandmother of mine Syliva Raven. She had been quite powerful too, although i'm told i even exceeded her magical capabilities.
I had wondered growing up, hell i still wondered the identity of the poor smuck my mother had convinced into bed to concieve me. As a witch i hadn't been around any men growing up and did long for some male company sometimes, but i also wondered if my father had anything to do with my uniqueness. I was the only male witch on record, i couldn't just be a fluke, i couldn't help but ask why, ask how, but i hadn't found any answers to my ever growing questions.
I heard the joyful jingle of the bell above the store door and glanced up, startled to see a crowd of people enter. I sat up straight in my chair and watch wide eyed as they looked around with at least some interest.
They were all young and male, and talked amicabily as they looked around, obviously friends. I always felt nervous around men being so unused to their presence. I'd been home schooled as was a witch covens way, i rarely had any need to leave it, being out in the open world wasn't something i'd gotten used to yet and i had the feeling it would take some time before i would start to.
A few of them approached the counter and if not for the subtle smell of sweet wood, a slight fermented yeasty smell and a waft of testosterone, the enchanted mood ring on my thumb glowed yellow, signalling werewolves were nearby.
My black cat Binx stirred atop the counter, letting out a lazy yawn, orange eyes watching our present company.
I'd met werewolves a few rare times, a pack alpha visiting our head witch about something or other.
One of them approached Binx quite boldly and with a disgruntled yowl he jumped off the counter and strutted off somewhere in the store, probably to find a spot by a window to sun himself.
I smiled apologetically at the werewolf. "I'm afraid Binx isn't so friendly with strangers."
He looked me over curiously, tilting his head in an almost canine like manner and i sat there stunned as he reached towards me, fingers briefly playing with a strand of my naturally silver hair.
I had a bit of an odd appearance, from my shoulder length silver hair to my dark purple eyes, a few delicate wards and magical symbols tattooed into my skin. The latter was common in witches but most had features that made them appear human, my eyes and hair were an oddity.
"What are you?" He murmured under his breath before pulling away.
I cleared my throat and tucked the strand he'd played with behind an ear. "Is there a particular book your looking for?" I asked him, my voice slightly breaking from nerves, still a little shocked by the werewolves bold act.
"We just wanted to look around, it's not often we get a new shop open in town."
"I don't suppose you do." I replied.
He glanced down at the book i'd been reading and studied the worn and aged exterior. "That book looks really old, shouldn't it be in a museum or something?"
"A book deserves to be read." I countered, picking it up and turning around, placing it back on the shelf behind me, a place i kept all the special books and those not meant for humans to read. Some of them were indeed quite old, some very rare and even priceless.
"Is he bothering you?" I turned my head, meeting light brown eyes, their gaze weighing me down and pinning me in place. My ring almost burned my skin and i turned fully around, hands behind my back, hiding the brightly glowing ring, the only time it reacted like this was when... was when i was in the presense of an alpha.
The inquisitve werewolf quickly made himself scarce and i was left alone with the alpha.
He was a little older than the group that had come in, in his mid twenties maybe. He scrutinised me closely, dark brows wrinkling and lips pursing, no doubt confused.
"What is this? I've never known such witch trickery, drop that ridiculous illusion and show me your real face." He practically sneered.
"I can't drop an illusion i don't have up alpha, and i don't quite like your tone." I voiced warningly.
"Witches can't be male but you reek of magic, what game are you playing posing as one?"
