With the locket tucked safely in my pocket, I made my way to the local market. Llyncroft's high street was surprisingly busy. I had no idea there were so many people with paranormal abilities. I had a list as long as my arm of provisions to get for the bed-and-breakfast.

The market was a patchwork of colours and scents. It reminded me of being on holiday in Paris, with their fruits, breads, clothes and household items. With each stall, I discovered something new. I wondered if it was some kind of travelling market.

As I meandered through the stalls, I ticked off the items I needed. I overheard a voice edged with irritation. "I simply need some help with this plant. It's not rocket science!"

The lady from the arcade, I think her name was Fiona, stood at a stall laden with herbs and flowers. The stallholder, a gruff man with soil-etched hands, shrugged helplessly.

"It's just not thriving," Fiona continued, gesturing to a potted plant with wilted leaves and drooping stems which she cradled in her arms like a child.

I heard the stallholder mumble something about proper sunlight and watering, but his advice seemed as lacklustre. I got the sense Fiona intimidated him.

I stepped closer, unable to ignore the scene. "Might I have a look?" I asked before I could second-guess myself.

Fiona turned her ice-cold grey eyes on me. For a moment, I wondered if I'd made a mistake, but she nodded curtly and handed the plant to me.

I held the plant and tried to feel its energy. The poor thing was more than just under-watered or lacking sunlight. It felt as if it had given up hope. I cradled it gently in my hands, stroking its leaves.

"It needs more than just water or light," I said, caressing its leaves. "It needs to be encouraged."

I ran my thumb over a leaf and whispered to it quietly, encouraging strength and growth. Having cared for plants for years, this was different. I could now perceive their energy shifting as I caressed it, gently wishing for it to flourish.

I felt a slight shift in the plant's energy. It reminded me of a willingness to give it one more try.

I looked up at Fiona. "Try placing it on your windowsill where it can get morning light," I suggested. "And when you water it, make sure you're thinking positive thoughts."

Fiona studied me for an uncomfortable moment before reclaiming her plant. Just as she was about to speak, another customer came to ask about an herb.

Fiona cast a final glance in my direction. "You're new here, aren't you?" she asked, her voice devoid of the earlier irritation.

I nodded, shifting uncomfortably under her icy gaze. "I've just moved to Llyncroft."

Fiona, her expression unreadable, said. "You remind me of someone. May Hartwell. You have her touch."

The mention of my grandmother made me startle slightly. I looked at Fiona in surprise. "You knew my gran?"

Fiona nodded, a shadow of a smile on her lips. "She was a good woman. She had a way with plants, just like you."

Before I could respond, Fiona was speaking again.

"I own the antiques shop on the corner," she said, nodding towards a small shop at the end of the high street. "There are some plants there that could use your attention."

It felt more than an invitation. It was a plea for help. I nodded, "I'll come by tomorrow," I promised,

Fiona paused as if to consider, "No, come now."

Feeling curious, I followed Fiona to her shop. Why did she want me to visit today?

The door to Fiona's shop jingling softly as we entered. The interior was a warren of shelves, each one heaving under the weight of relics and curiosities, whispering secrets from the past. Dust motes danced in the slivers of light piercing the shadowy room.

"Make yourself comfortable," Fiona offered, gesturing towards a pair of velvet armchairs nestled between two towering bookcases. "Would you like a cuppa?"

"That would be lovely, thanks," I replied, easing myself into the surprisingly comfortable chair.

Fiona moved to a small nook that served as a makeshift kitchenette. There was no kettle on the stove, no tea bags or milk in sight. Yet, she stood there, her back to me, and I could have sworn I heard the faint sound of clinking china.

Then I saw it. The teapot lifted into the air, hovering for a moment before tipping gracefully to pour steaming water into two cups. The tea leaves swirled within, steeping with no human touching it. Next, a small pot of milk levitated from a shelf and poured a creamy stream into a cup.

My mouth fell open in shock. The items settled, clinking gently, as if nothing unusual happened.

Fiona turned to me with both cups floating effortlessly beside her, her icy eyes betraying no hint of effort or strain.

"Here you are," she said, one cup drifting towards me while she took hold of the other. "Careful, it's hot."

I reached out tentatively and took the cup from the air, my hand trembling slightly. I wasn't sure what to make of this casual display of telekinesis.

"How did you do that?" My curiosity over coming my manners.

Fiona took a delicate sip from her cup before responding. "A simple party trick," she said dismissively, though her lips curled in a half-smile that suggested it was anything but simple.

I picked up my cup. It was hot and fragrant, the kind of tea that reminded me of home and comfort.

"This is more than a party trick, Fiona," I said. "I got the feeling you wanted to talk to me privately. "

Fiona placed her cup on the cluttered little table in front of her and leaned back in her chair.

"I do." I nodded and took a sip of the tea, waiting for her to continue.

Fiona stood up and went to a dusty cabinet. She opened the glass door and took out a thick, leather-bound book. It looked ancient, with yellowing pages.

"Your gran and I, we shared an interest in rare items. Items worth more than money." She placed the book on her lap.

"Gran was into antiques?" I said.

Fiona smiled. "Not quite. May had a talent for finding objects with, let's say, special energy." She stroked the spine of the book.

"Why am I here?" I said.

Fiona looked me in the eye. "Because I think you've inherited more than just her gardening skills. I felt changes in energy last night that I haven't felt since May lived here." She tapped the book. "I need your help with something."

"What do you mean?" I said.

Fiona hesitated. "There's an object in this shop that's, for a better phrase, not behaving. It's giving off energies that are hard to contain."

I put the cup down. "And you think I can help because of my Gran?"

Fiona nodded. "Yes, Evie. Because of who you are."

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