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Authors: Nancy Atherton

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eled to another sphere. He didn’t like being seen by

me or by Angelique. He prefers to move undetected

through the physical world.”

“Who?” I asked.

Aunt Dimity Goes West

165

“The male spirit who accompanies you,” she replied.

“Couldn’t you sense his presence?”

I felt a prickling sensation on the back of my neck,

as if a chill breeze had blown through the room. I

knew of only one male spirit who would frighten cats

and freak out psychics, and I didn’t want him hovering

within a hundred miles of me.

“Describe him,” I said warily.

Amanda closed her eyes, spread her palms on the

table, and breathed deeply through her nostrils. “Light

hair. A slight build. The glint of spectacles. No.” She

frowned in concentration, then corrected herself.

“Pince-nez. On a chain.”

Tension drained from me. Whoever Amanda was

describing, it wasn’t Abaddon.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

I said.

“He has not yet made himself known to you,

though I sense . . .” Amanda peered at me intently, al-

most hungrily, as if she suspected that I, unlike most

people who walked into her shop, had some experi-

ence in her chosen field of expertise. “Have you ever

been in touch with the other side?”

“The other side of what?” I asked.

“Eternity,” she whispered dramatically.

“I don’t
think
so.” I pursed my lips and frowned slightly. “No, probably not. I’m sure I would have

noticed.”

Toby sniggered and Amanda waited for me to go

on, but I had nothing more to add. I wasn’t about to

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Nancy Atherton

tell the queen of hocus-pocus that I’d been in touch

with “the other side” nearly every day for the past seven years. Aunt Dimity was a dear friend, not a psychic

phenomenon. I didn’t want her name bandied about by

a bunch of aging hippies holding séances in the geo-

desic dome.

Amanda waved a freckled hand toward an empty

chair. “Come. Sit with me.Tell me about your dreams.”

“Sorry,” I said, refusing the invitation. “I never re-

member my dreams.”

It was a bald-faced lie, but my nightmare was

strictly off limits, and no power on earth would com-

pel me to speak of long, languorous dreams starring

heroic, blue-eyed cocker spaniels while Toby Cooper

was within earshot. He was a bright boy. He wouldn’t

need Amanda’s help to interpret the symbolism.

“Perhaps the sphere will guide our sight,” she sug-

gested.

“Actually, we just came in to buy a geode,” I

told her.

“You may
think
you came into my shop for a mun-

dane purpose,” Amanda said, smiling complacently.

“But I believe a greater power guided your steps. Shall

we consult the orb?”

“Oh, why not?” I said carelessly.

I unbuckled my pack, added it to the pile on the

chair, and took a seat at the table. After a brief hesitation, during which he no doubt struggled manfully to

keep from voicing his opinion on orb consultations,

Toby followed suit.

Aunt Dimity Goes West

167

Amanda rose and removed from the cupboard a

round object covered with a fringed, jacquard-silk

cloth. She placed the object in the center of the table, resumed her seat, and swept the cloth aside to reveal a

large and quite beautiful crystal ball on a little wooden stand. As she bent over the crystal ball, she bracketed

her face with her hands, as if to block everything else

from view.

Toby sat back in his chair with his arms folded,

looking askance at the proceedings, but I leaned for-

ward, propping my elbows on the table and resting

my chin in my cupped hands. If Amanda had seen

Abaddon’s unholy ghost dogging my footsteps, I would

have been nervous. As it was, I felt calm, relaxed, and

ready for a bit of fun.

“I see a long journey,” Amanda intoned. “You have

come from afar.”

I almost laughed out loud at her pathetic attempt

to impress me. Anyone linked to Bluebird’s highly

efficient grapevine could have learned that I lived in

England.

“You will meet a short, dark stranger,” she went on.

“Isn’t it supposed to be a
tall,
dark stranger?”

Toby muttered.

Amanda continued to peer intently into the crystal

ball, as though Toby’s words were beneath her notice.

“Those you love most will surprise you,” she said.

Again, I had to restrain the urge to laugh.There was

nothing remotely mystical in Amanda’s mumbo jumbo.

I had every reason to believe that she, like everyone

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Nancy Atherton

else in Bluebird, knew all about my five-year-old sons.

It didn’t take psychic powers to predict that little boys would at some point surprise their mother. Will and

Rob surprised me every day. It’s what five-year-olds
do.

“Death came to claim you,” Amanda murmured,

“but you escaped his grasp.”

I sat upright and the laughter died within me.

Amanda might be throwing darts blindly, but even

blind throws struck the target from time to time.This

one had hit a bit too close to home.

“He will come for you again,” she continued. “You

risk all by sleeping beneath the eagle’s wings.The kill-

ing curse will not leave you unscathed.”

“That’s enough.” Toby pushed his chair back and

got to his feet. “I knew you’d get around to the curse

sooner or later, Amanda, but I didn’t think you’d give

it such a sick twist. You’re supposed to use your al-

leged gifts to do good, but I don’t see anything good in scaring people. Did James Blackwell come here, too?

Did you try to scare him?”

Amanda looked up from the crystal ball. “All of my

consultations are private and confidential.”

“How convenient,” Toby scoffed. “It means you

don’t have to defend yourself when you’re wrong.”

“I describe only what the orb reveals to me,”

Amanda said serenely.


And
what you hear in the cafe,
and
what you make up,” Toby snapped.

“The inner eye does not lie,” said Amanda.

“I hate to interrupt such a rousing debate,” I said,

Aunt Dimity Goes West

169

with forced nonchalance, “but the closest I’ve been to

death lately is a stroll around the cemetery with Rose

Blanding—although I may die of starvation if I don’t

have dinner soon. Lunch was a long time ago and

we’ve done quite a bit of walking since then.” I stood.

“Thanks for your time, Amanda. If you don’t mind, I’d

like to buy two geodes and get back to the Aerie. I

really like sleeping beneath the eagle’s wings. Should

I, er, cross your palm with silver here or at the cash

register?”

“Neither,” she said, as unfazed by my reaction as

she’d been by Toby’s. “Take the geodes as my gift. To

commune with your spirit has been payment enough.”

“You’re very kind,” I said, avoiding her gaze.

Toby and I were back on Stafford Avenue in less

than ten minutes. I’d seldom been happier to breathe

smoke-free air, but Toby looked angry enough to spit

fire.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said. “Amanda’s always

seemed harmless to me, but I guess she couldn’t resist

making the most of the curse.”

“The
killing
curse,” I corrected him. “It has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?”

“I think,” Toby said grimly, “that Amanda had better

clean up her act or she’s going to go out of business.

Tourists don’t enjoy being frightened.
You
weren’t frightened, were you?”

“No,” I said. “Personally, I think there are enough

real horrors in the world. I don’t have to go looking

for them in crystal balls.”

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Nancy Atherton

Toby gave me a searching, sidelong glance, as if

to convince himself that Amanda’s unsettling pro-

nouncements hadn’t upset me. My neutral expression

must have reassured him because he relaxed and

changed the subject.

“I’m glad you remembered dinner,” he said. “I’m

starving.”

“Me, too,” I said.

If I’d been completely honest with Toby, I would

have admitted that I’d used dinner as an excuse to get

away from Amanda Barrow and her orb.Amanda might

rely on educated guesswork for most of her predic-

tions, but she saw some things much too clearly for my

liking.

Death
had
come for me, and I
had
escaped his grasp.

Was he lying in wait for me at the Aerie, to complete

the job he’d left undone in Scotland? Would I be the

killing curse’s next victim?

As we entered Caroline’s Cafe, I felt a sudden rush

of empathy for James Blackwell, lying alone in his bed,

wondering what would happen next.

Fifteen

T oby and I decided to have dinner at the cafe,

to save ourselves the trouble of cleaning up

afterward. We returned to the Lord Stuart

Trail at half past five, stuffed to the gills with Carrie Vyne’s excellent fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and

three-bean salad. As we started up the trail I saw

something I hadn’t seen before in Colorado.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” I said, squinting at the

sky. “Are those . . . clouds?”

Toby followed my gaze and nodded. “Looks like a

cold front’s moving in.We may have a rainy night.”

I nodded, secretly reassured. I hadn’t dealt very

well with thunderstorms since I’d been shot—every

lightning bolt ignited flashbacks of Abaddon’s creepy,

pale face hovering over me on the storm-wracked

cliffs in Scotland—but I could handle a rainy night.

“What thoughtful weather you have here,” I com-

mented. “No rain until we’re done hiking—or trail

riding or cooking out.”

“It’s not always so considerate,” said Toby. “Which

is why—”

“We always bring our rain gear,” I finished for him.

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Nancy Atherton

A brisk wind was swooping through the treetops

by the time we reached the Aerie, and the tempera-

ture had dropped by at least fifteen degrees. I was very glad we’d departed from the cafe when we did. If we’d

stayed a half hour longer, I would have seriously re-

gretted wearing shorts.

I left Toby to fill the cookie jar with Calico Cookies

while I put Annelise’s aspen-leaf earrings on her dresser and propped the pair of fuzzy buffalo against the twins’

pillows in the playroom tent.When I reached the mas-

ter suite, I glanced thoughtfully at the blue journal, but decided to postpone my chat with Aunt Dimity until after Annelise and the boys had returned from the ranch.

I knew that our conversation would be a long one—it

had been a remarkably eventful day—and I didn’t want

to be interrupted in the middle of it.

After changing into a pair of soft jeans and a long-

sleeved cashmere sweater, and swapping my hiking

boots for the blissfully supple moccasins I’d bought at

Dandy Don’s, I brought the geodes back to the dining

room and placed them on the table, where everyone

would be able to see them.

While I’d been distributing largesse, Toby had

changed into clean jeans, sneakers, and an old gray-

plaid flannel shirt. I returned to the great room to find him kneeling before the hearth, laying a fire.

“No fire pit tonight,” he said. “It’s too windy.”

“I wasn’t planning on it anyway,” I said, crossing to

lend him a hand. “It’ll be baths and bed for Will and

Rob when they get back, and I doubt that Annelise will

Aunt Dimity Goes West

173

want to stay up late.” I passed logs to him from the bin until the pile was ready for lighting, then stood back.

“The geodes will look fantastic by firelight, won’t they?”

“Yes,” Toby said, but he spoke as if he had other things on his mind. He closed the fire screen, straightened, and turned to me. He studied my face for a moment, then

said, “Lori, tell me the truth. After everything we’ve

heard today, does the Aerie seem different to you?”

“No.” I smiled up at him and raised my hand as if I

were taking an oath. “Scout’s honor, Toby, the Aerie

feels just as welcoming now as it did when I first set

foot in it. Even if I did believe in curses, I couldn’t believe that this place has ever been anything but loved.”

“I really could strangle Amanda,” he said darkly.

“Let’s forget about Amanda,” I told him. “Weren’t

you going to show me the stuff James Blackwell left

behind? You may as well do it now, while we have the

place to ourselves.”

“Okay,” said Toby. “Come with me.”

I followed him through the passageway at the end of

the kitchen and up two flights of stairs to the caretaker’s apartment. Since I was scrupulously respectful of Toby’s privacy, I would never have invaded his space without

his permission, but once I was there, I couldn’t help

taking a look around.

The caretaker’s apartment turned out to be a small,

self-contained unit with a kitchenette, a living/dining

room, a bathroom, a bedroom, and a private deck.The

rooms were comfortably if not extravagantly furnished

and clearly intended to be used by one person. Toby

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