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As the woman took the gargoyle in hand, I could see the maternal glaze in her eyes. Mamas were mamas around babies, that was for sure. And it didn’t matter whether the baby was a gargoyle or a kitten or human.
As Bruce deposited Maggie in Lindsey’s arms, Lindsey snuggled her close. “The fair was held in the Westlake Community Hall. I’m trying to remember who sponsored it—usually I have a good memory but the past few months the hormones have played havoc with my thought processes.” She frowned. “Something like…oh yeah, I remember. They called themselves the Aleksais Psychic Network.”
“Are you sure?” Camille jotted down the name.
“Yes, because the name struck me. I’d never heard of the group before and decided we’d go check them out, get a feel for who they were. Most of the covens and psychics around here are networked to some degree. We have pages on Spell-Space, and forums, and whatnot to keep abreast of news in the supernatural community, as well as our own psychic community. We’re not as networked as Portland, but we’re getting there. If the group had been around for a while, I would have heard of them before.”
“Did you meet any of their organizers?” I took Maggie from her as our baby girl began to get a little agitated. “Maggie, be good. I know you’re hungry but you have to wait for Hanna to mix up your cream drink.”
“Cweem—cweem! Want!” Maggie began to wail in earnest as I tried to pacify her by dangling my braids in front of her. Sometimes it worked, but this time Maggie’s cries just grew more frustrated and finally, I set her on the table and scolded her. “No, Maggie! Stop crying. Either you behave or you’ll go to bed right now.”
She stopped, cocking her head to one side. The ears gave her a lopsided look when she did that and I stifled a laugh. Even though she was cute, Maggie didn’t like being laughed at when she was in one of her moods. She understood enough to know what I’d said, and so I kept my expression stern, and after a moment, the tears subsided to a coughing sob, and she sniffled pathetically.
“Yeah, you know how to work it, don’t you?” I quietly hugged her again. By then, Hanna had prepared her bottle and took her in the living room, where Maggie wouldn’t disturb our talk.
Lindsey shook her head. “I can hardly wait till my little Feddrika hits those years.” She grinned. “But you’re in for it a lot longer than I ever will be.” Sighing, she said, “As far as the organizers go, yeah. I think we did meet one. Strange fellow, now that I think about it. He seemed…almost like he wasn’t quite in this world. I didn’t think about it at the time. I guess I thought it was because of the energy in the building from all the psychics, but now that I think about it, he didn’t feel real.”
That could mean a number of things. “Not real, how?”
Lifting her teacup to her lips, she frowned and took a sip. “Not real as in…as if he were in disguise. He looked the part, sounded the part, but something felt discordant between his energy and his actions. Like an actor who hasn’t got a full handle on who their character truly is.”
That made sense. I glanced over at Camille, who nodded. “Do you remember his name?”
Lindsey munched on the cookie. “Hal Danvers? No…Halcon Davis. That’s it. Halcon Davis, and I remember because I thought, gee—his name seems a lot like the word halcyon.”
I jotted down his name. “So you went to the psychic fair and after that…”
“Malaise. That’s what I’d call it. All members of my coven who went that day have been pretty much out of steam since then. Our rituals feel forced; we don’t have the rhythm down that we did. At first I thought it was because of my pregnancy and how it had changed my body and energy field, that maybe I was infecting the others with some sort of fatigue. After checking with my naturopath, though…I don’t think so. And, I had a dream.”
“Dream?” Vanzir, who had been fooling around with Morio’s laptop, stopped to look over at her. “What kind of dream?”
She leaned forward and set her teacup on the table. “Last night, I woke up in a cold sweat. I’ve been doing that off and on for the past couple weeks but couldn’t figure out why. Anyway, for the first time in over a month, last night I remembered my dream, and it felt familiar, like I’ve had it before.”
As we waited for her to continue, the energy began to thicken. Lindsey’s eyes were wide, brilliant, and afraid. She slowly let out a long breath. “I dreamed that I was out of my body, attending some sort of ritual. I was standing there and looked down at my silver cord and—”
A pause. Another beat as she seemed to struggle for words, and the next moment, she was heading toward the floor. She hit the floor, her eyes rolling back in her head as her body began to jerk and twist.
“She’s having a seizure. Stand back, give her room!” Iris immediately shooed everyone back and was on her knees as Lindsey writhed, her body racked by spasms. She began to froth at the mouth.
Iris rolled Lindsey on her side and called for a cushion. I raced into the living room and brought back a pillow off the sofa, which she slipped beneath Lindsey’s head. Lindsey sounded like a frantic dog, her sounds chaotic and rough, almost like barking.
“Should I call 911?” Camille grabbed the phone, but Iris shook her head.
“Not yet—give me a second.” Iris placed her hands on Lindsey’s back, taking care to avoid the flailing arms, and closed her eyes, whispering something so low we could not hear her voice. A moment later, Lindsey began to calm, and yet another moment and she was limp, breathing shallowly, her eyes closed.
Trillian hurried into the hall bathroom and returned with two cool cloths, gently pressing one against Lindsey’s forehead and the other behind her neck. After a moment, where Iris kept her hands pressed to Lindsey’s back, our friend’s eyes opened, and she moaned softly.
“What…what…?” Confusion filled her face as she looked up at us.
“Shush, my dear. You had a seizure. Lindsey, do you have epilepsy?” Iris motioned to Trillian, who cautiously lifted Lindsey into a sitting position. Lindsey groaned and reached for her neck.
“No, I don’t. I ache all over. What happened?”
“What’s your name?” Iris took her hands and held them, rubbing them gently in her own small ones.
“I’m…I’m…Lindsey. That’s it. Lindsey…Cartridge.” Lindsey began to look alarmed.
“Very good. What day is it?”
