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I nodded, shivering. “I will.” A strange feeling had rolled through the shop, a wave of shadows, swirling around me. “Something’s off, Bran. I can feel it.”
“What?” He drew me over to the stool behind the counter and had me sit down. “Close your eyes and look.”
I obeyed, settling on the seat as I began to lower myself into trance.
A few seconds later, I heard what sounded like a hushed panting, and I found myself staring at my cousin Owen. He was lying on the bed, desperately reaching for his phone, but it was out of reach. He was pale and wan, his long red hair splayed out on the bed. And then, his spirit vanished, and he lay there dead, his hand two inches away from the phone. The bottle that had been full of pills was empty, on the bed beside him.
Clutching my stomach, I forced myself to stay in the trance. So, Owen had changed his mind too late. That hurt. But there was more, on a level beneath that pain. Another moment and the scene shifted, blurring with smoke that clouded my vision, then opened up.
I found myself floating in space, staring down at my shop. The psychic grid that I conjured over my land to protect my home and everything in it was damaged. Threads in the grid were broken, their ends floating in the ether. They looked frayed and charred, as though something had exploded, burning through them until they snapped.
Crap. Something had disrupted my defenses. I reached out to take hold of one of the threads and my fingers sizzled as I grabbed the cord of energy. It was still a live wire, but whatever had broken through had been powerful enough to sever through the spell.
As I began to examine the grid, I saw at least six threads that had been disrupted. This wasn’t normal wear and tear. No, this was a deliberate attack. Someone had assaulted my protective wards. I held the thread in hand and tried to follow the energy of the broken cord back to the source of the disruption, but the only thing I could see were chaotic swirls, jagged like circular saw blades, and I knew that whatever was hidden in the mist had been strong enough to slice through the wards.
I opened my eyes. “I’ve got trouble on my hands.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Somebody deliberately broke through my wards. The grid I keep energized for protection is damaged. Some sort of energy severed through the threads. It’s chaotic, though, and I can’t trace it.” I glanced at the door, wondering if my customer’s husband had enough magical power to manage an attack that strong.
When I thought about it, though, I knew it wasn’t him. He was chaotic, but he wasn’t powerful enough to take down my grid. “I’ve had two odd occurrences today—you witnessed that one. But earlier, a woman I read for on a regular basis barged in earlier, complaining that I gave her a faulty reading. Thing is, it wasn’t faulty, it was accurate. She knew that, but she still insisted on a refund. After I gave it to her, she seemed surprised, as though she didn’t expect me to capitulate.”
“And you refunded her the full amount?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I had no desire to draw out the encounter.”
“What else do you see, out on the web?”
Out on the web was the way those of us born to magic referred to communing with the universal energy that touched everything and anything. As we moved either fully or partially out of our body and onto the etheric planes, we could see beyond the mortal and mundane to the web of life that connected everything in the universe.
Bran and I were both witches by birth, though we were from different clans.
I was connected to the earth so deeply that sometimes it felt like I was farther away from humanity than I was part of it. On the other hand, Bran’s magic came from folk magic, and while he was also born to it, his presented in a vastly different way. I was born to hunt down the demons of the earth. At least, our clan bore that duty. So far, I hadn’t been called to my destiny, but it was only a matter of time.
“I saw my cousin,” I said softly. “I didn’t have time to tell you about him.”
Bran brushed my cheek with his hand. “What happened? I can feel your sorrow.” His eyes were luminous, and his touch sent shivers through me.
“Grams called me yesterday. My cousin Owen killed himself the night before last. The wake is on Saturday. I don’t want to go, but I have to. I loved Owen, but sitting through hours of my mother taking over with her histrionics, and trying to console my aunt is going to be hell. I’d rather do a private ceremony to say goodbye but?—”
He pressed a finger to my lips. “Would you like me to go with you?”
Startled, I stared at him. “You would do that? You didn’t know him.”
“No, but I know you, and I don’t want you to be alone. I know it’s been hard with Faron and his coma. I know that I’ve put you in a bind, too. I’ve pressured you, and I’m sorry I did that. I love you but I shouldn’t push you. If you want me to back off, say the word, and I will. I just thought…” His voice trailed off.
“No,” I said, my throat raw with tears. “Don’t back off. I really like Faron. But…you fill a space in my life too, one that he doesn’t. I’m sorry I can’t seem to choose, but that’s where I’m at and I’d rather be honest.”
“I’d rather you be honest, as well. I can live with this, at least for now. I can live with a little uncertainty, especially when it comes served up in the form of a beautiful, intelligent woman. So, shall I plan to go with you? Would they mind?” Bran reached for a tissue and handed it to me.
I dabbed at my eyes, hoping my makeup hadn’t run too much. “Yes, we’ll leave at ten-thirty on Saturday. Plan on being there the whole day. And thank you—for everything.”
Bran leaned down and kissed me, lightly—just a gentle slide of his lips against mine—and it was exactly what I needed at that point. Then, after I reassured him I’d be all right, and promised to meet for dinner with him and his mother that evening, I waved as he headed out for work. While the crops had been harvested, he had an afternoon stint at the farmer’s market downtown, and I had to restock the shelves.
* * *
The rest of the afternoon slid by, second by second. Two shoppers stopped in, neither of whom I recognized, and neither one bought anything. By three pm, when I closed up shop, I was grateful to lock the door and, with Fancypants flying beside me, head back to the house.
