Laced With Magic (14 page)
Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I felt like a mountain climber desperate for oxygen. My fingertips were tingling and that wasn’t a good sign. The last time that happened, I ended up circling Sugar Maple at five thousand feet without a plane.
I locked the door to my room and willed the Book of Spells to appear. I needed proof I was on the right path. I needed to touch the source of my powers, feel the jolt of recognition I experienced every time I moved through those pages and saw my own history reflected back at me.
What if loving Luke wasn’t enough? What if I was the reason the fabric of Sugar Maple was unraveling faster than a threadbare sock heel?
What if there was nothing I could do to stop it?
“Appear!” I commanded the Book. “Appear!”
I waited but nothing happened.
“Book of Spells, appear!”
I felt myself being pulled backward through a narrow, pulsating tunnel that flattened me like toothpaste through a tube. Lights flashed all around me. Alternating blasts of fire and ice jolted me into a state of hyperawareness as I realized the Book of Spells wasn’t coming to me: I was becoming part of it.
The world I knew, the life I’d lived, the days yet to be, raced past me faster than I could register their presence.
Luke watching me that first morning in the yarn shop, laughing at the way I snored.
Walking up Osborne Street with Gunnar, talking about love and friendship, wishing it could have been different between us.
Peering through the dining room window at the Inn, wishing I could be normal for one night, just a regular girl on a date with a regular guy.
Suzanne Marsden in her glorious naked dress.
Bad dates, no dates, lonely nights spent drinking too much wine and eating too many cookies, wanting to crawl inside the television and live with one of the sitcom families.
Gunnar smiling at me . . . so happy, so alive.
My surrogate mother, Sorcha, holding my hand when I cried for my parents.
And oh my parents! Young and tall and strong and beautiful and happy . . . See? It was possible. It could happen.
But it never lasted.
Not for Aerynn or Maeve, Fiona or Sinead, Siobhan or Aisling, or Bronwyn or Guinevere or me.
And there I was again with Luke, but it was too blurry to make out exactly where we were or what we were doing.
I strained against the image, trying to bring it into focus, trying to see what the future held, but I saw nothing.
Nothing.
KARENShe drove like an old lady. White knuckles, shoulders pulled up around her ears. I could have walked to Sticks & Strings faster.
“Do you drive often?” I asked as she shuddered to a lop-sided stop in front of her shop.
“Not if I can help it,” she said and I could see why.
Something about her was different. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what had changed, but I had the feeling my outburst was the reason.
The Luke she knew and loved might be completely different from the man I’d been married to. And even if he wasn’t, I should have kept my mouth shut. Some things a woman in love needed to learn for herself.
Besides, it wasn’t up to me to save her. Supermodel could figure out a way to save herself.
That same uneasy feeling I’d experienced when I first drove into town returned. The streets were relatively empty except for a steady stream of customers bustling in and out of a place called Fully Caffeinated. The sky was blue and cloudless. The morning sun cast a soft lemon yellow glow. But I glanced over my shoulder when she unlocked the front door just the same.
“Okay,” she said, flinging open the door. “Welcome to Sticks & Strings.”
She flicked on the lights and I saw heaven.
“Oh. My. God.”
“Yeah,” she said with a laugh. “I think so too.”
The walls were floor-to-ceiling yarn in every color of the rainbow. Pure wools, cashmere, silk, cotton soft as a whisper, alpaca, hemp, the legendary quiviut.
“You must be the happiest woman on the planet,” I said as I fondled a hank of Rowan Silk Tweed in shades of morning sunrise. “I’d pay you to work here.”
Soft, squishy couches. A huge fireplace. Baskets of yarn and roving everywhere. Pottery bowls piled high with stitch markers and cable needles and row counters scattered on table-tops. Ceramic pitchers filled with straight needles, felted bowls of circulars. Ott lamps positioned exactly where they were needed most. The place was a knitter’s nirvana.
Well, except for the cat.
“Another one?” I asked as a giant black feline entwined itself around my ankles. “Do you breed them or something?”
“You’re not a cat person.”
“How can you tell?”
“That little vein pulsing in your right temple is a dead giveaway.” She bent down and scooped the mammoth cat into her arms. “This is Penny. We don’t know exactly how old she is, but if she were human, she could smoke, drink, and vote.”
I looked at Penny, then at Chloe. “She has your eyes.”
Chloe grinned. “I know. Weird, isn’t it?”
It was more than weird. To be honest, it was a little creepy.
She placed Penny on top of an overflowing basket of roving adjacent to the celery green sofa near the front window. “Feel free to fondle the merchandise. I’m going to check my messages and get things ready for the class.”
I wandered around the shop, petting skeins of cashmere and quiviut, ogling the richly saturated colors in the Noro palette, trying to picture what her life was like. I mean, she was tall and blond and gorgeous. She lived in a fairy-tale cottage in a Norman Rockwell-painting town. She spent her workday playing with sticks and string. One look at her and you knew she was one of those women whose lives were blessed from cradle to grave.
CHLOEThe good thing about being at the shop was I didn’t have to worry about random magick breaking out the way it did at the cottage. We definitely had magick at Sticks & Strings, but it was the kind of magick that turned a great yarn shop into a legendary one. The protective charm that blanketed the town not only kept us safe from discovery but also seemed to have a soft spot for knitters.
Not that I was complaining, you understand. I was all for anything that brought in the customers.
The bad thing was I had forgotten Janice was dropping by early to help me set up for the workshop.
“Damn it, Jan!” I said as she blossomed into the storeroom in a cloud of lavender and attitude. “Just once I wish you’d use the front door.”
“What’s the problem?” she asked, tugging at the hem of her red, white, and blue hoodie. “You told me to get here before eight thirty, and I made it with two minutes to spare.”
I lowered my voice. “We’re not alone. The ex is out front petting the yarns.”
Janice brightened. “Cool. I picked up some weird vibes from her last night. I was hoping—”
“No, it isn’t cool,” I broke in. “It’s definitely uncool.” I lowered my voice even more. “She saw the blue light last night.”
Janice shrugged. “So tell her you like blue lights. That shouldn’t be hard to explain.”
“She was sitting outside in Luke’s truck while I went in to make sure everything was under control and she comes bursting into the cottage screaming, ‘Fire! Fire!’”
“All because she saw a little blue light flickering in the window?”
“You’re not listening, Jan: she shouldn’t have seen any of it. Not the blue light in the window and definitely not the blue
flames
she saw climbing up the front of the house.”
flames
she saw climbing up the front of the house.”
Comprehension dawned. “Ohmigod, she’s one of us! She didn’t look magick to me but these days you never know.”
“Luke saw it too.”
That stopped her cold. We both knew Luke didn’t have an atom of magick in his entire body. “He saw the blue light
and
the blue flames.” A totally inappropriate giggle broke loose. “He even saw flames shooting from Dinah’s tail.”
and
the blue flames.” A totally inappropriate giggle broke loose. “He even saw flames shooting from Dinah’s tail.”
Janice wasn’t a giggler either but she caught the wave. “What did you say to her?”
“I told her I didn’t see anything.”
“With a straight face? I’m impressed.”
“That’s the thing, Jan: I really didn’t see anything.”
“The humans saw the blue flames and you didn’t?”
“That’s pretty much what I’m saying.”
“This isn’t good.”
“You think?”
“No, I mean this seriously isn’t good. Somebody’s screwing with the protective charm.”
“But the charm can’t be altered,” I said. “The Book of Spells states quite clearly that while it can weaken over time or disappear entirely if a Hobbs woman no longer walks the earth, the basic nature of the protective charm cannot be changed by anyone. Not even one of Aerynn’s descendants.”
“And I say that’s a load of crap.” She gave me one of those looks only a good friend can give you and not end up in intensive care. “If the powers are strong enough, anything’s possible.” We both knew she was talking about Isadora.
“Not her style,” I said. “The explosion at town hall was meant to hurt someone. This was more of a prank.”
“Flaming cat butts,” Janice said, grinning. “I see your point.”
“Oh crap,” I said, gesturing toward the front of the shop. “I left the ex out there alone with Penny.”
Which started us both giggling again like two fourth graders.
“Go out there and introduce yourself,” I said to Janice, “while I get the gift bags ready for class.”
“Can I ask her about their sex life?”
“Off-limits.”
“Can I ask her why she’s here?”
“I already know why she’s here.”
“Don’t tell me. Let me guess.” She tapped her forehead with her fingertips and grinned at me. “She’s here because Luke isn’t paying his child support and—”
“Their daughter is dead and she’s having trouble accepting the fact.” I gave her a bare-bones version of the situation. I couldn’t let her go on joking about child support. “But that’s between us, okay?”
Janice was wisecracking, flip, and generally irreverent, but she was also the mother of four children she loved dearly. “It stops here,” she said.
“He’s driving her back down to Boston as soon as he gets some paperwork straightened out. She’ll be someone else’s problem by this time tomorrow.”
“You’re that sure she’s delusional?”
I hesitated. “Luke is.”
“And how about you? What do you think?”
Suddenly the answer was clear and it scared me more than the idea of Isadora breaking through her banishment. “I’m afraid she isn’t.”
10
I drove thirty miles to the nearest McDonald’s for an Egg McMuffin fix around daybreak, then cruised back to Sugar Maple in time to meet up with the tow truck driver sent out by the rental car agency. Sometimes it felt good to be just one more warm-blooded human jump-starting his day with fat, protein, and caffeine the way God intended.
Jack was waiting for me when I reached Karen’s car.
“She did a number on it,” he said around a half-smoked cigarette. “What happened? A deer spook her?”
“Something like that,” I said. “I think it’s the axle.”
He squatted down and peered under the Nissan. “More’n likely. Can’t take the torque.” He straightened up and I could almost hear his aging joints squeak. “Got the paperwork?”
“I’ll get it.”
I walked along the shoulder to where my truck was idling. Jack stayed on my heels.
“So you’re the new chief of police,” he was saying as I retrieved the documents from the backseat. “How’s that working out for you?”
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