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Iraise my hand to shield my face from the scorching sun while I measure how much ground is yet to be covered. Quite a lot, I surmise. This has got to be the first time I’m regretting buying so much land. I’d thought it was a great idea when my wife started a flower garden on either side of the driveway as it gave the clubhouse a distinct charm, but now that I have to edge rows and rows of unending flower beds, I’m rethinking this idea. I glance at Hex, who’s hard at work. He was the only one inclined to join me with my chore.
“Thanks for doing this, man,” I exclaim. “I don’t think I’d have covered this much ground without you.”
Hex looks up, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s supposed to be a collective effort, anyway. Sometimes, I think you let us get away with too much.”
I snicker. “You think so?”
Hex shrugs hesitantly. “It’s just… you overlook certain things that maybe are a cause for concern.”
I study Hex’s uncomfortable demeanor for a few awkward seconds before stabbing my edger into the soil, resting my hands on its handles. I arch my brows at Hex. “Okay, something tells me this isn’t purely hypothetical. What’s on your mind? Spill.”
Hex sighs and meets my gaze tentatively. “I just think you’re being too lenient with Victoria. Is it because you think we can’t do anything for Seer without her? She feeds him ginseng and rosemary herbs to boost his energy. Even I can do that much.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Do you have a problem with Tory or her method of treatment?”
“First, she says she’s a healer, and now she’s a soul searcher.” Hex jabs the garden trowel into the soil with unnecessary force, flipping the turf chunks upside down in the compost pile. “I seem to be the only one that thinks her story doesn’t add up. It seems like a setup. Aren’t soul searchers a myth?”
“It’s all a myth,” I reply quietly, “but you know as well as I do it’s also real. I don’t think I have to explain that to you. None of us chose our gifts or really understand them. I’ve seen Tory in action, and I believe her.”
“I just think she’s strange, that’s all.” Hex raises his head to look at me, squinting against the sun's harsh glare. “Isn’t it convenient that she comes as Mama’s apprentice when Mama isn’t around to confirm her identity? Mama's assistants cover half of their faces, so there’s no way of knowing if she’s actually one of them. Besides, Mama is a shaman, but Cromwell works with herbs. What if she’s not here to help? What if she’s in collusion with the enemy?”
“What enemy? The one that Victoria herself told us about? She’s the one who told us that Seer is being attacked with sorcery. Besides, I can feel her intentions, and they’re not bad.” I don’t think, anyway.
“Intentions?” Hex scoffs. “Can’t those be disguised?”
I wonder why Hex is being especially prickly toward Tory, especially since he used to be the most welcoming one of the guys. He raised a good point, though. I took a big chance the moment I allowed Victoria Cromwell into our home based only on her words. I have been through enough war and betrayals to know that tables can turn, and a friend can suddenly become the enemy. But then again, Victoria might be Seer’s only shot at survival.
Whether I let her stay or make her leave, I’ll have to pay the price for that decision.
“Seer is our priority at the moment,” I say to Hex. “And Tory seems like his best shot. The moment I sense any form of deception on her part, she’s out. I promise.”
Hex nods and wordlessly resumes his task of jabbing the ground and throwing dirt to the side.
* * *
Like last time, she’s seated on a straight-back chair, in a circle of salt and lit candles, with her leg dipped in a bowl filled with seawater. She’s sitting so still one could mistake her for a statue, clutching onto Seer’s wristwatch as if her life depends on it. The candlelight does an aggressive dance, flaring dangerously high and low as if holding out against a wind gust, even though we’re in a closed room with all the windows shut. Tory demanded an empty room for the soul-searching ritual, particularly a room on the east wing of the building. She didn’t say why.
I clench my fist to prevent myself from running my hand through my hair for the thousandth time. I hate this feeling of anxiety and apprehension. But if Tory doesn’t find Seer’s soul this time and get us some useful information, I’ll have to look for an alternative.
Tory suddenly takes a deep breath and opens her eyes. Her deep brown orbs seem to glow with an otherworldly light and deep ancient knowledge that suggests a long generation of magic.
“Did you find him this time?” Tory’s nod of affirmation immediately eases the knots in my stomach. “Really? Is… is he well?”
I don’t know how soul searching works, but I desperately want to know how my friend’s soul is faring, even if I feel ridiculous discussing it.
“I can’t say,” Tory replies. “I found Seer in one of his old memories. He was much younger, about ten years old. It was a sunny day, and the little boy was chasing butterflies around a gorgeous garden. He was alone, so I approached him. He was reluctant at first, but he eventually opened up. I asked if he knew what sorcery could block the sight or who was powerful enough to. He didn’t know, but he suggested that Papa might have an idea. I suspect Papa is his father.”
“So you’re saying we need to return to Seer’s roots? He mentioned nothing about his life before the clubhouse. I never thought he left a family behind when he came here.”
“Gerald Abner,” Tory says, solemnly meeting my gaze. “Seer’s father is the sage of Cornwall.”
“What?”
* * *
“What?” my wife echoes, her deep hazel eyes opening wide in a mixture of shock and dismay. “You’re going to England?”
“Oui, mon amour,” I reply, taking both of her hands in mine. “And I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
