“I think so,” Brianna answered. “I guess the Sight was a little too strong this time.” She shivered a little.
Sara leaned forward from the sofa. “You’re sure the warrior you saw was wearing an eye patch?”
Brianna pulled the cardigan she was wearing closer, although the room wasn’t cold. “Yes. Dressed in black. Lightning bolts everywhere.”
“The same image I saw in the cup,” Sara said softly and sat back. Who was the man? She recalled seeing someone like him—he looked like a pirate—at the auction. Could it be the same one? And why was he dressed as a medieval warrior?
“Tell her the rest,” Michael urged.
“There’s more?”
Brianna looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Sometimes the visions are just symbolic, like the Tarot cards.”
“And sometimes they’re not.” Sara wasn’t blessed—or cursed—with the Sight, but she knew the strong threads of truth that were woven with her own intuition. And she remembered the unusual scrying at the full moon. If this image had come to two different people, it was important. “Tell me.”
“You were in it.” Her friend’s voice dropped almost to a whisper as if she were afraid someone was listening. “Your hair was cut short, and you were tied to a stake. There were wood faggots all around you and the man—Goddess, I can still smell the evil stench!—was crackling that lightning all around you, playing with the bolts, taunting you with setting the kindling on fire.”
The fine hair on Sara’s arms rose as she felt the heat of sudden flames scorching her face and her arms, singeing her hair, setting her thin shift ablaze… She coughed on the thick fumes of smoke and gasped for air.
“Snap out of it!” Michael gave her a shake, a look of alarm on his face. “Come back to us!”
Slowly, the haze cleared and Sara found herself inside the circle of her friends’ linked arms as they sat on either side of her on the sofa. She could feel the soothing white energy permeating the air inside their protection. She shuddered.
“It was so real…and so ancient. Like I was living in another time period.”
“I’m sorry,” Brianna said as they broke the link and everyone sat back. “I don’t know what it means, but it affected me the same way. Thank the Goddess Morgan was here when it happened. She called Michael.”
Sara’s head cleared a little. “Why was she here? Of all the Circle, you and I are the ones she likes least.”
“Only because Michael is our friend and Morgan envies that,” Brianna said with a smile as she watched Michael roll his eyes. “She did seem disappointed when you weren’t here.” Briannaturned back to Sara. “She brought over a new herbal blend of tea to try. She said she’d found it in a Mexican curio shop over on the West Side. It was good. It smelled a little like new-mown hay.”
Woodrowel? It was the only herb Sara knew of that smelled like that and it had a very special effect. She grinned at Michael, who looked suddenly wary.
“What?” he asked.
“Did Morgan offer you any tea when you got here?” she asked.
“Yeah, she did. I was more concerned over Brianna, though. Why?”
Sara’s grin widened. “I’d be real careful of what I drink around Morgan, if I were you.”
He looked exasperated. “Don’t tell me she tried to poison Brianna!”
“No. Well, maybe just enough to make her ill,” Sara said, sobering at the thought.
“Why would she want to do that?” Brianna asked. “She’s a part of the Circle!”
“You said she was disappointed when Michael wasn’t here?” She looked at him. “Were you supposed to be here?”
He nodded. “Don’t you remember us arranging the meeting before we worked the ritual at the full moon? You were going to fill us in on what was going on with the document. Then, when you said you were going out of town, I called Bri and cancelled.”
“What does that have to do with my getting ill?” Brianna asked. “Morgan and I both drank the same tea.”
“Did you watch Morgan prepare it?” Sara asked instead.
“No. I stayed in the living room while she was in the kitchen. Why?”
“So many questions. Can you get to the point?” Michael interjected.
