Page 9

Victoria entered the tiny kitchen and immediately took over, steady hands moving with familiar grace over the stove. The kettle was already on, as was a small pan. Seren almost smiled at her aunt and her penchant to fall back on food and feeding those around her.

“Well, don’t just stand and block the light. Make yourself useful and slice some bread for the French toast. Didn’t the damn newspaper say everyone is making some? We should’ve grabbed more things from the Tavern, but this will have to do.”

Have to do? This dish was, in fact, the big guns. Victoria’s French toast was legendary. And it was only made for special occasions. Seren gulped and washed her hands.

“Are you expecting the National Guard for dinner? There’s plenty here.”

“Who needs the Guard? I have you lot. The way you used to eat me out of house and home.” Victoria motioned with her chin as Ceridwen walked in and pocketed her phone.

“The reception is terrible, but I managed to ask a few people a few questions.”

Seren lifted her face from her task, blinking a few times. Questions?

“What did Pru say?” Victoria inquired, the question precise and brisk, as if she was damn certain it was Rhiannon’s partner, Ceridwen had spoken to.

“She’s been seeing the girl in town for a few weeks now. Said she stopped by the bookstore several times, once sat for hours by the fire and read about the island’s lore. Pru tried to strike up a conversation, but she did not participate outside of a few words and never returned afterwards.” Ceridwen sighed.

“Spooked her,” Victoria murmured, as she stirred the batter.

“Most probably. Considering how she reacted to the deputy sheriff showing up, she’s clearly running. Or hiding. Perhaps both,” Ceridwen posited and took a seat close to the stove and its warmth. Seren took off her sweatshirt and wrapped it around her sister’s shoulders, the small touch of the chilly hand her thank-you before Ceridwen spoke again.

“All she managed to find out was that she was staying at Florinda’s B&B. Flo told me she checked out earlier in the week. Paid cash. Flo described her as quiet and a loner. Like she was trouble.”

Seren snapped to attention. Something about the way Ceridwen spoke, about how fucking Florinda Mataus described the woman sleeping in the next room, irked her.

“What the fuck does Florinda know about trouble? Shouldn’t she mind her own business anyway? We haven’t even conducted the yearly inspection of her B&B yet. She shouldn’t be operating.”

Ceridwen merely lifted an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by Seren’s tone.

“Strictly speaking, Madam Mayor ordered the stacked opening of some establishments. Florinda is just doing what she was told.”

Seren opened her mouth to argue the point, but Victoria tsked and shrugged.

“Florinda was always a gossip and a busybody. Comes with the territory. So don’t saddle that high rainbow horse of yours, Captain Crowhart, and take a breath. The girl in there might not be trouble, which I can’t see in her. But she is troubled.”

The words landed like a grenade.

See? Did Victoria have a vision?

Seren almost dropped her knife, and Ceridwen lowered her arms that she had crossed in front of her chest.

“See in her? Aunty?” Seren asked. Ceridwen’s face turned ashen with concern.

Victoria took a few slices of bread, dunking them for a long time into the batter. For a while, all Seren could hear was the sizzling of the butter in the pan, then louder as two pieces of French toast were gently deposited there. When Victoria looked back at them, her face was drawn.

“I can’t explain it.” She waved her hand, and the fire on the stove turned lower, the pan becoming less noisy, the greasy splatters disappearing.

Seren loved watching Victoria’s magic. So different from any of their own, so unique, so understated, under-appreciated.

No, Victoria could not bring down a monsoon, nor could she raise a mountain or set the Amber Cliff on fire with a flick of her wrist, but there was something in the cozy, comforting spells that calmed the heart and body, that fed, that nourished, that was special on an entirely different level.

Victoria never spoke about her gift. Never mentioned her magic. Seren always wondered if it was due to how powerful her sister had once been. She bit her lip and focused on slicing more bread. A second later, Ceridwen’s fingers touched her wrist and took the knife from her hands.

Victoria watched them steadily before turning back to the stove and flipping the French toast. There was an aspect of Victoria’s power that the family never dared to bring up. And yet, they all revered it, reveled in it, feared it.

“Yes, before you injure someone with that knife or twist yourself with worry, I’ve… seen. And I’m uncertain what it is that opened to me. I haven’t been looking, haven’t even dared to try since your mother…” She trailed off, and Ceridwen slowly put the knife she had just taken out of Seren’s hands on the table, then pushed it farther from the edge.

Victoria’s foresight. More dangerous than any blade, a harbinger of more damage than any knife or gun could ever do.