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“Yeah. She was so aloof. It wasn’t as though she cared, one way or another. We were just . . . objects. She made us get down on our knees—or her guards did. And then she walked up and said, ‘One of you will walk out of here alive. One of you will join my court. It’s up to the two of you, which one.’ And then . . . and then Heather stood up and faced her and said, ‘Take me. Let Peyton go.’ Myst shrugged and motioned to her guards and said, ‘As you wish.’ And then she just turned and left. The guards threw me across the room. As I slammed into the wall, they forced Heather to leave with them.”
I hung my head. We hadn’t heard about this before, though we had some inkling of what had happened.
“Heather saved me—at least for the time being. If you hadn’t rescued me, I doubt I’d still be alive. I owe your aunt—I owe you everything.” Peyton reached out and brushed her hand across my cheek. “Whatever you need me to do, however you need me to back you up, you’ve got it.”
I felt shaky. So much had gone wrong. To have someone on our side, clearly, ready to take up the battle flag without complaint, meant so much. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I’ve been feeling so mired. And after last night . . .” I told her what had happened with Crawl and Lannan and Grieve.
“I’ll help you get the antidote. Whatever you decide, I’m in on. Just tell me what to do. I’m your soldier.” She gave me a buck up smile and, throwing her arm around my shoulders, turned me toward the house. “It’s cold. Let’s go in before we catch our death.”
By afternoon, we both had our first customers—Peyton had a tarot reading walk-in, and I was talking to Dorthea, a local woman who was frightened because her neighbor had been one of the ones killed in the theater incident. She wanted a protection charm to wear, and one to put in her house.
Dorthea looked like she didn’t have much money—she was dressed in a faded housedress, and her eyes had a look of hunger in them. New Forest had its share of povertystricken individuals, and this woman fit the bill.
I took her name and then, with a momentary hesitation, followed Marta’s instructions in her Book of Shadows and took Dorthea’s hand. I cautioned her to be silent and lowered myself into the slipstream, trying to suss her energy.
As I listened to the currents, I could hear whispers surrounding my client.
A plaintive child’s voice. Mom, I’m hungry—what’s for breakfast?
You’ve got to get a handle on the spending. I can’t make enough to keep up with the bills if you don’t start cutting corners. The gruff sound of a man on the edge, trying to keep his temper.
I’m doing the best I can. What do you expect from me? Dorthea herself.
Then, the crack of flesh on flesh, a whimpering cry, and a man’s voice. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to do it. I promise—this time I mean it. I won’t do it again. Only the energy behind the voice didn’t ring true. It was only a matter of time before it happened again—and worse.
And . . . the faintest sparkle of magic, hidden deep within, unnoticed and buried through the years. I opened my eyes and let go of her hand. As I stared at her money on the table, I let out a long sigh and pushed the ten-dollar bill back to her. “Keep it.”
“But the charms—”
“I’m giving you a charm to protect you and your child. Use the money for food, or to get yourself and your son to a women’s shelter. Don’t let him have another chance at you.” I knew it wouldn’t do any good. Dorthea wasn’t ready to hear that it wasn’t her fault, that she couldn’t change her husband. But I had to try—had to reach out.
Her eyes went dark and I could feel her shut down as she slammed up her barriers. I shrugged and pushed the charm across the table. “Tie this over your front door, and use this oil on the window latches and any other doors to the outside in your house. It will keep the monsters out.”
But only the monsters that you haven’t already allowed in your house. I wanted to blurt out another warning—that he would hit her harder next time. That maybe he’d take it out on their child.
Ulean swept around me, a soft cloak against the frustration I was feeling.
You can’t save the world, Cicely. You can’t stop her from going home to her husband. You couldn’t save your mother and you can’t save every woman in danger. You do what you can, and you accept the fact that you aren’t a goddess. You aren’t a superhero. All the magic in the world can’t help someone who’s not ready to listen.
I nodded, softly. Thank you, my friend. It’s a hard thing to face.
I know.
Dorthea picked up the charm, hesitating for a moment. She looked at the money I’d pushed back across the table. “I . . . are you sure?”
“Ten dollars can buy soup, macaroni and cheese, a loaf of bread. Put it to good use, please.” I gave her a soft smile, even though I wanted to reach across the table and shake her by the shoulders.
She pocketed the money and, with another smile, headed out the door, charm and oil in hand. I sat back, wondering what Marta would have done. Would she have taken the money? Or turned away the woman? Or would she have done what I did? This was new territory, and I had the feeling it wasn’t going to be easy to pick my way through the landscape.
After a few minutes, Peyton waved to her reading, and as the woman left the room, we turned to each other. Her face had the same stricken look as mine.
“Rough reading?” I pushed back my chair and stood up, shaking the cobwebs out of my brain.
She nodded. “Woman wants to find love, has a bad habit of self-destructing in good relationships and going for the bad ones. Had to tell her that Prince Charming is more likely to be wearing a pair of geeky glasses than riding a Harley, but she didn’t want to hear.”
I let out a long breath. Were we all lost and confused, searching for our loves, searching for the answers when they were there in front of our faces?
“I think we need a drink. Can I make you a latte?”
