Thirteen
Emilio
From the outside, The Phoenix’s Flame metaphysical shop was an unassuming little cottage tucked into the woods about fifteen minutes outside of the Cape, complete with a garden full of gnome statues and a curl of smoke rising from the chimney. There wasn’t even a sign outside—this was strictly a word-of-mouth business.
Inside, the place was a witch’s paradise. The main level had been opened up, filled with a mismatched collection of metal, wood, and glass shelving, display cases, and tabletops, each piece from a different era, yet somehow working together seamlessly. Every surface displayed tools of the craft—crystals, wands, incense, books, DVDs, statues, beads, bells, cauldrons, jewelry. An entire wall of built-in bookcases was devoted to fairy, gnome, and gargoyle sta
