The Familiar's Witch

By

A.E. Dillings

--Chapter 1--


It all started my first day in London, so that is probably where I should start this essay. This will not be your usual please let me into your graduate program essay, but I’ve been told that this is not your usual graduate program and that you need to know this. I’m not sure why, but I trust the one who told me this, so here it is.
 
I’d dreamt about London my entire life, beginning with my first favorite books, Make Way for Ducklings and, of course, Paddington, but never in my wildest dreams did I dream I would be living just blocks away from the British Museum. But here I was: I had flown across the entire Atlantic Ocean alone, alone I had faced the gauntlet that is British Immigration, and alone I had found my way from Gatwick to London to the townhouse that would be my home while in this fair city. And now, facing my first afternoon alone in the city I’d dreamt of my entire life, I decided to take the walking tour my hostess, Dr. Laura Watson, had left for me.
 
Shrugging into the walking coat I’d borrowed from my oldest brother, and grabbing my backpack and the copied pages that Laura had left for me, I took to the streets of London that cold mid-winter afternoon as if I belonged there: as if I’d returned to some long forgotten home. I discovered that Knightsbridge was the answer to a different dream as I stopped briefly to cash a traveler’s check and drool over the possibilities inside that wonder of wonders, Harrods.
 
Once that was done, I was off.
 
The walking tour that Laura had copied for me was of the Strand and Covent Garden, and I had just finished reading its directions when I stopped at the Savoy Hotel, whose theater had seen the production of Gilbert & Sullivan’s operettas. Laura and I had agreed to see a matinee when we both had an afternoon free. I was hoping for the Mikado, but seeing any of their plays in their original home would be a dream come true.
 
Sitting in front of the Savoy, I indulged in my favorite guilty pleasure: people watching. After watching the posh people entering and leaving the hotel, I left without going in myself. I was definitely not dressed well enough to feel comfortable entering such an elegant place. On the Embankment, I stood at the water’s edge and for the first time looked down at the Thames with my own eyes, at the Tower Bridge in the distance downriver and the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben behind me. I had studied this river and its city for most of my life and it had left a profound impression on my heart.
 
And that is the only excuse I can offer for it taking me so long to realize that I was being followed.
 
Sitting down on one of the benches that lined the walkways, I turned to face my shadow, now sitting beside me on the bench looking up at me as if I’d disappointed her somehow. Looking into those startlingly intelligent eyes, I had the overwhelming urge to apologize, which I did. “Did you at least enjoy the tour, or is this old hat to you?” She was sitting daintily, with her tail wrapped around her paws, looking so ladylike that I pulled out my notebook and drew a quick sketch of her, pleased with how well it turned out.
 
“So, Miss Shadow, what do you think?” I asked, showing the dainty black cat my sketch of her. Although in the bright sunlight, I could see that she was not actually a solid black, but black with very dark gray stripes. Miss Shadow, for her part, actually looked at the sketch before rubbing her head against the notebook’s wire binding. I guess she approved.
 
“Shall we finish our walking tour?” I invited her, and leaving the bench, we made our way along the Strand onto Portugal Street to Portsmouth Street, to the Old Curiosity Shop: a necessary stop for any former English major, even if the only Dickens’ book I’d ever read was Oliver Twist.
 
From there we went from Lincoln’s Inn Fields, to St. Paul’s Covent Garden and St. Martin-in-the-Fields, where I intended to see as many concerts as possible, and ended up in Trafalgar Square, where my shadow was briefly distracted by the pigeons. We parted amicably when I told her that I was taking the tube home. Entering the tube station, I turned back for one last look at the small, sleek body poised ladylike in the entrance, watching me.
 
That meeting was to change my life.
 
I made it back to the townhouse without getting lost more than once or twice. Okay, so I got lost three times and only found my way back home as I was walking through the red light district. Did you know they actually put red lights next to their front doors? Of course you did. I didn’t, though, and you could have knocked me over with a feather. But don’t tell Laura and Dr. John that, they tease me enough, thank you very much.
 
Making my way through the front door and its unusual lock (unusual to me anyway, Laura and Dr. John never seemed to have any trouble with the stupid thing, eight times out of ten I ended up banging on the door and hoping someone was home- technology does not always like me and it doesn’t matter whether it is high tech or low tech), I came in to the sound of Carly Simon. Following the sound of singing I found the stairs that led down to the kitchen and dining room. And there is where I found Laura who greeted me with a hug, a mug of tea, and plate of biscuits.
 
"How was the walk?” she asked, as I sat down in one of the barstools that lined the mammoth counter separating the kitchen from the dining room. Placing a mug of tea and plate of biscuits on my placemat, Laura leaned on her hands, staring for several minutes. Evidently I passed whatever test she’d just given me, because she smiled, a smile with a lot of relief in it, I thought.
 
“The jet lag’s gone.” Her sea green eyes were still looking at me intently, and I had the feeling that she could see everything that had happened to me since I had last seen her as well as everything I’d ever felt. Pushing the straying strands of black hair off her face and tucking them behind her small, delicately shaped ears, she smiled at me adding, “The walk looks like it did you a world of good. I’m glad you could come, I think that this trip will turn out to be just what you needed.”
 
“I’m glad I could come too.” I answered honestly; I had been unable to tell either of them, Laura or her husband, exactly how much their invitation meant to me. And even to this day, after all we’ve been through, I am still overwhelmed by their generosity. “I still think you asked me to housesit as an excuse to get me over here, and I thank you more than I could ever tell you.”
 
“We wanted to get you over here, but we also wanted someone to keep an eye on the house while we were out of town,” the voice at the door added, and Dr. John Watson entered, ducking his head slightly to make it under the door lintel and walking up to his wife for a hug and kiss that made me a touch self-conscious. “We also want you to take care of the garden, once spring has sprung.”
 
Walking up to the island, Dr. John held out his hand to greet me, “I must say you’re looking awfully energetic for your first full day here. We would like to take you out to dinner, there’s a lovely little Italian place that’s not too far, if you don’t mind walking. What do you say?” And looking into his handsome face, with its curly black hair and dark blue eyes, I laughed to myself remembering all of those coeds who had repeatedly thrown themselves at him. They’d never had a chance: he had eyes only for one woman, the one standing beside him.
 
“I would say thank you that would be lovely.”
 
The restaurant may not have been far, but once we were off our street I quickly got lost as we made one turn after another. After we turned down a side street, whose name I never caught, we soon reached the restaurant, whose name was in Italian and in a script my brain refused to translate.
 
The Drs. Watson were evidently regulars for they were greeted like long lost family, and we were soon seated at a small booth in a quiet corner with a bottle of wine and plates of warm bread and butter without even being asked.
 
“Did you have any trouble at home? I imagine your mom tried her best to nix the plan.” Dr. John paused as the waiter served our salads and left before continuing. “How was the trip, any problems?”
 
“No problem at all. The sibs all got together, decided I needed a break before I hit grad school, and gave me the money as a graduation present, bypassing mom and stepscum entirely. Getting here was a breeze,” I assured them both, smiling in relief. I thought about why I had been invited as I enjoyed my dinner. The salad had been replaced with soup, filled with vegetables and pieces of chicken and smelling of Italy. It was during one of those naturally occurring silences when everyone had their mouths full that I quickly swallowed and asked the question that had begun to worry me, “Do you really think you’ll need someone to watch the townhouse while you’re gone? The place is gorgeous by the way. And I noticed the reproduction Adams mantles in the living room and the library. Very cool.”
 
“I’m glad you like them, we know where to look if they turn up missing.” Dr. John teased. “Seriously though. I, for one, would feel better if the house weren’t left empty,” he confessed. “We’re doing some rather sensitive research and would rather not have to worry about what was happening at home while we’re traveling.” The talking was stopped temporarily by the appearance of the main dish, braised pork with potatoes and onions and carrots in a sauce with just a few stewed tomatoes to sweeten the dish. We ate giving our dinner the attention it deserved and then thanked the chef profusely when he came to say hello to Dr. John and Laura and to present desert: a luscious chocolate cake served warm with home-made vanilla ice cream and smothered in thick, creamy hot fudge and topped with whipped cream and a cherry on top.
 
“Is this an ounce of prevention?” I continued our conversation, sipping on my after dinner coffee and enjoying the contentment that only good food and good friends can bring. “Or have you had any problems?”
 
“At this point, I think it’s the ounce of prevention,” Dr. John explained. “We did a pretty thorough inspection of the townhouse when we first arrived, looking for leaks and for plumbing problems, and didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. No problems and nothing missing, but I don’t want to trust that our luck will hold.”
 
“So what are you researching? Can you talk about it? Or would you rather not?”
 
“We were doing research for a joint paper on Arthurian myths and legends, and came across mention of certain items, which I won’t name here,” Laura explained, and I understood her feeling the need for caution as she went on. “These items may possibly confirm the existence of Avalon.”
 
“And possibly the historical reality of Merlin as well,” Dr. John added softly. “We have to be very careful how we go about our research. Any item that had been Merlin’s would probably be very powerful, and subject to much abuse if in the wrong hands.”
 
“I can think of several hands I would definitely keep them out of,” I answered, thinking back to the class I’d taken with Dr. John, and the paper I’d written about a certain fraternity that was decidedly more, and less, than they claimed to be.
 
“They aren’t the only ones,” he confirmed. “And some of the others are much worse.”
 
“Can I help?” I asked not out of the goodness of my heart, I found the research they both did to be fascinating, and the chance to study, and learn from both of them was a chance to good to pass up.
 
"Just being here will be a big help,” Laura assured me with a tired smile.
“And don’t worry; we will be taking you up on your very generous offer.”
 
The walk home tired me out, and climbing the stairs took the last of my strength, so I scarcely looked at the room as I took out my contacts and washed my face and brushed my teeth. I though about the day I’d had while I got ready for bed, feeling as if I’d left something undone.
 
Just as I was about to turn off the overhead light, I looked over at the window, and saw the familiar dainty form silhouetted against the glass. Walking to the window, I found Shadow sitting pressed against the glass, looking up in disgust at the rain drizzling down. On her. Opening the other window, I let her climb in before wrapping her in the towel I’d hung over the radiator to dry.
 
“I’m sorry. I should have known you’d find me,” I apologized, hugging the shivering cat to me. “If I’d been thinking, I’d have left the window open for you.” Sitting on the love seat, I started rubbing the water from her lovely black fur with its dark gray stripes, stripes that blended in so well you could only see them if you knew they were there. Shadow, for her part, began purring appreciatively, kneading her front paws gently against my leg.
When she was dry, I shut and latched the window and carried her to bed and climbed in, falling asleep quickly with the familiar weight of a cat lying against my feet.
 
That night the nightmares came again: memories of things I did not remember when awake, and had no wish to see when I was asleep and helpless to do anything about them. They had plagued me off and on for most of my life, and when they came sleep went from being a refuge to just one more thing to get through. This time, somehow, it was different. This time I dreamt that someone climbed into bed with me, wrapped their loving arms around me, and somehow held those terrifying dreams at bay. Someone I felt I knew; someone I felt I should know; someone I could almost name. Spooning their body behind mine, their arms around me, holding me, I felt safe and slept: the nightmares chased away.

 
The next morning, I woke rather later than usual. Lying in bed, I realized that I was alone. And although I had expected that, it was still a disappointment. Groping for the glasses I’d left on the bedside table, I had my first good look at the room that would be mine.
 
It was perfect.
 
It was so perfect I would almost have thought they’d decorated it with me in mind. The walls were painted a soft, buttery yellow, the wainscoting was a mellow honey toned wood, and there was a fireplace on the side wall with a mantle I would have sworn was a reproduction Adams.
 
It was also huge.
 
It may have started out as two rooms, or even a series of rooms, but it was now one room. One very large room that ran from the front, with a large dormer and a double window looking out over the city street below, to the back, with its own dormer and double window, this one overlooking the garden.
 
The room had been divided into two distinct areas. The front was the sleeping area with a big bed flanked on either side by nightstands, and a love seat in the dormer, a perfect place to sit and read and catch any available natural light. A four foot wall separated the front from the office/studio in the back. The dormer in this space held an easel and a rolling cart of artist’s supplies.
 
They know me so well.
 
Last night, I’d been thrilled to discover that the room also had its own bathroom; complete with a lovely, large bathtub and a commode that both looked like they had been installed when the townhouse was built, sometime in the 19th century. That morning, I took full advantage of the tub, soaking out the last of my jet lag until my fingers and toes looked like prunes. Dressing for whatever adventure lay before me, I headed downstairs hoping that the Drs. Watson were still home.
 
“I let your friend out into the garden,” Laura greeted me with a grin and handing me a mug of coffee and my half of an English breakfast: baked beans, fried eggs, fried bread, grilled tomato, and sausage. “I won the bet, but even I thought it would be two or three days before the local cats started following you around. Where’d she find you?” Fixing her own coffee, Laura joined me at the breakfast bar with her own plate and began eating.
 
“I met her on my walking tour,” I explained around bites of food. Did I say that Laura is a good cook? How good? Back when I was her student and had a major crush on her, I used to dream—about her English breakfasts. The crush has changed to friendship, but I still dream about her cooking.
 
“I’m embarrassed to say that she’d followed me halfway through the tour before I saw her. I didn’t notice her until I sat down on a bench on the Embankment and she sat down beside me. I did a quick sketch of her, would you like to see it?” And pulling out my notebook, I showed her the black cat’s dainty poise.
 
“That’s very good. You’ve captured her well.” Laura smiled proudly. She’d been the one to suggest that I take an art class my first semester at college, and had always encouraged me to keep up with them. “It looks like those art classes weren’t a waste of time after all.”
 
“And let me just take this opportunity to thank you for all of the lovely art supplies up in my room. They will certainly come in handy.”
 
“Don’t worry,” she grinned. “We’ll put you to work soon enough. We’ve got enough projects for you that you’ll earn those art supplies and then some: but not today. Do you have any plans? I have to do some shopping. Would you like to go along? I could show you where all of the good bookshops are.”
 
“Thanks, that would be great,” I accepted with a grin. “Just think, we actually waited until my second day before hitting the bookshops, the English Department would never believe us if we told them.”
 
“You must have noticed that other than a few basic necessities, I’d left the bookcases in your room empty for you. I figured you would find the books that you need better than I.”
 
“Let me go tell Shadow where we’re going and I’ll be right back.” Stepping out the back door, I finally had a good look at the garden in its entirety.
It was a beautiful space, even in winter; peaceful and private despite the buildings on either end. For the most part, the few trees were bare with only their shape to tell what they were. Looking at them and thinking about what they must look like in spring and summer, I could tell that someone had put a great deal of thought into the garden: arranging the plants to create a sense of privacy and for shade.
 
The garden’s arrangement between the trees, the mounds of azaleas and the empty beds, which I somehow knew would include not only flowers but herbs and vegetables as well, was vaguely familiar. In fact, it struck a chord as if I’d seen it somewhere before. But where?
 
The rhododendron planted halfway down the garden’s wall arched over the path, creating a living tunnel of greenery, being one of the few plants that still had leaves. It also divided the garden into two smaller spaces: the first had raised beds now under a blanket of snow but which would soon hold plants and herbs, the second was a small patch of sunlight but would be a delightfully shady spot in the relative heat of summer.
 
This was where I found Shadow, stretched out bonelessly as only a lazy cat on a sunny day can. One green eye opened and she looked up at me without the slightest inclination to move. “Laura and I are going book hunting,” I explained. “I don’t know how long we’ll be. Go back to sleep, sweetie, I’ll see you when we get back.” Going back inside, I realized the strangest thing about telling my cat where I was going was not that I felt the need to do it, but that Laura never questioned it. Shadow needed to know, so I told her, and Laura understood.
 
I had never seen so many bookshops in any one area in my entire life, and not all of them were on Charing Cross Road. We went up and down that Mecca of bookshops, finding treasures in nearly all of them: art books, philosophy books, mysteries, one store with nothing but science fiction and fantasy, and one amazing place where every volume was two pounds each, even the leather bound set of Charles Dickens.
 
The hunt was long but successful. Not knowing what I was looking for going into these shops, I’d found several books that I might otherwise have overlooked. Several books that caught my eye were on gardens, including a few on witches’ gardens, and one on monastic gardens. The rest were books on paganism and spirituality, a couple by Campbell, a couple by Jung, and of course a selection of new books by my favorite mystery authors. Our last stop was an office supply store where a selection of notebooks, a box of my favorite pens, and a file box full of hanging folders completed my purchases.
 
We got back to the townhouse to find Shadow sitting by the back door patiently waiting to be let in. Following me upstairs, she sat on the bed and watched as I put my new books on their shelves, next to the Dictionary, Thesaurus, and Almanac that had been Laura’s contribution to my library. Remembering that I had yet to unpack my own books, I opened my traveling trunk and unpacked the few necessary paperbacks, in addition to my Shakespeare, Renaissance Poets, and of course my mysteries.
 
Putting up my office supplies, and arranging my desk the way I liked it made me feel like I was ready, even if I was missing my trusty, but desk bound, computer. But ready for what? I was waiting for something, something momentous, something that was the reason for my being here. Not just here in London, but Here, alive in this time and in this place. This sense of waiting followed me as I went downstairs to join my hosts for dinner.
 
Still feeling restless after dinner, I decided to take a walk in the park. London’s streets are often arranged around squares, with townhouses along the perimeter and parks in the center, and several of these parks were within walking distance. The one I chose to walk in was quiet and so shaded by trees to that the surrounding streets faded into the distance, and the few cars that drove past made no impression at all on me as I meandered along its paths. Dr. John had told me about a fierce storm the night before I flew in, and several times I had to walk around fallen branches that had yet to be cleaned up.
 
Shadow had been asleep upstairs when I left, but I was almost half expecting her to join me, so when I first heard the soft shuffle of steps, I thought it was her dainty steps I was hearing. Until I heard the second set, and realized that whatever was stalking me was much larger than one dainty black cat. Their deep, panting breaths alone told me I was in some serious trouble. Turning slowly, very slowly, painfully slowly, I faced two of the largest, blackest dogs I’d ever seen: Hound of the Baskerville large, their angry red-rimmed eyes glowering blackly at me. The Baskerville Hound had been created by Mr. Conan Doyle, but if my eyes were not deceiving me, these were much, much worse.
 
Hell Hounds, it seemed, were real: real, living in London, and evidently preparing to attack me.
 
Before they could attack, or I could try to run, a small black body flew across the intervening space and threw herself on the Hell Hounds, her fur puffed up making her look twice her normal size as she fought them with everything she had. Those Hounds, however, were huge compared to my brave little Shadow and I had to find a way to help before they killed her.
 
Her first cry of pain decided it. I grabbed the first big branch I could reach, and went in swinging. The smaller of the Hounds was trying, unsuccessfully thank God, to snap her neck.
 
The other looked as if he were trying to mount her. Thinking that I needed to stop him first, I stepped up, took aim, and nailed him square in his dangly bits. He squealed like a pig and fell to the ground writhing; I hit the smaller Hound in the same place with the same result.
 
I knew next to nothing about Hell Hounds, hell before this I’d thought they were just creatures from horror stories. But if they existed maybe some of the other stories about them were true. Pulling the pack of matches from my pocket, I lit one and threw it on the alpha writhing in the dirt, following it quickly with one on the smaller hound. They went up like they’d been soaked in rum.
 
Wrapping Shadow in my sweater, I scooped her into my arms and ran for home, praying to Mary with every step I took. Running as fast as I could, I felt Shadow struggling for every breath, praying for her to hold on, to live. I made it home without running into any more monsters, or getting hit by any cars, or the truck I’d not seen as I ran across one street after another.
 
What brought me up was the fact that I couldn’t reach my house key with Shadow in my arms. And something told me that putting her down right now would be bad. Very, very bad.
 
I pounded on the door until Laura and Dr. John came out of the library. They met me at the door with questions on their faces and a troubled look in their eyes. Brushing past them, I stumbled across the threshold. I shouldered the door closed and tried to explain, as the cold night air bit into my lungs as I panted in exhaustion. “I went… for a walk in the park, and was stalked… by a pair of Hell Hounds… She attacked them… They started hurting her, so I… hit them until they let go and ran for home… Can you help her?”
 
“Wait here,” Laura ordered, walking back into the library and coming out carrying a two liter bottle of Holy Water. I was so stressed I didn’t even think to wonder why she had two liter bottles of Holy Hater, or where she’d gotten them from as she told me what to do. “Take her upstairs, put her in your tub, and pour this over her wounds. How did they attack her? Teeth? Claws? What?”
 
“The smaller one was trying to snap her spine, but it looked as if the Alpha was trying to mount her. He was the one I hit first, right in his privates.”
“That’s the wound you have to clean first. As soon as you put her into the tub, lift her tail and pour as much of the holy water over it as you can. I’ll bring up more, but whatever you do, don’t leave her alone.”
 
“I won’t,” I assured her, and ran up the stairs, placing Shadow’s small battered body in that big tub. Gently lifting her tail, I didn’t even want to see what was or wasn’t done, I just poured the holy water over her back end until it was almost all gone, and then started on the scratches on her sides.
 
And that’s when I got the second shock of the night, as I watched my sweet little cat Shadow shift until she was a young woman lying naked in my tub. The wounds that had looked bad on the cat’s small shape looked even worse on her pale, thin body.
 
Looking up at me, she smiled in obvious relief. “You’re safe? They didn’t get you?”
 
“No, they didn’t get me.” My voice broke, caught on my heart where it had lodged in my throat. “They almost got you.”
 
But she wasn’t looking at me, but over my shoulder at someone or something she had obviously expected. Her strength was visibly at its end, and as she struggled to stay awake her last words before she passed out were, “Hi Aunt Laura.”
 
“You know her?” I somehow managed to croak out: astonishment momentarily robbing me of my wits.
 
“She’s my goddaughter. John and I intended for the two of you to meet, just not like this. Here, open that water.” Laura took charge, hoping to cleanse more of Shadow’s wounds while she was unconscious, and unaware of her pain. “I must admit, I wasn’t terribly surprised when Shadow followed you home. Do me a favor? Go turn down your bed, and grab the towel you’ve got warming over the radiator, could you?” I ran to do what she asked me. I figured she would use this opportunity to do a more thorough check of Shadow’s wounds, not something I wanted to see.
 
She was pouring holy water through the unconscious girl’s pale white blond hair, gently massaging her scalp as she did so, when I came back carrying the towel, “Good,” she murmured almost to herself. “Can you carry her in and put her to bed?”
 
“Of course.” Wrapping the thin body in the warm towel, I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. The bed was high enough that I needed to climb onto it with her in my arms, laying her as gently as I could on the down mattress without causing her any more pain.
 
“I don’t think there’s anything else we can do for her tonight,” Laura admitted at last, checking the unconscious girl for signs of fever. “I think we got the wounds cleaned in time. Can you stay with her? Keep a look out for signs of shock, keep her warm, and let her know she’s safe.”
 
“I can do that,” I assured her, looking down at the sleeping girl. “Where will you be?”
 
“John and I are going back to the park, see if there are any signs we can read. I’d really like to know if they were after you in particular or if you just looked tasty to them. And then I have to call her mother. With luck I can convince Bronwyn not to come into town tonight. We’ll have to take Caitlin home tomorrow, at least for a visit, but I’d like to keep her quiet tonight.”
 
“Okay,” I agreed. But then at that point I would have agreed to anything. The need to be alone with this girl, Caitlin, was overwhelming. So I tried to reassure her. “We’ll be okay, honest.” I’m not sure she believed me, but at last she left with one last look at the girl lying beside me.
 
“Caitlin,” I whispered, relieved when at last she opened one eye and looked up at me. Somehow I knew that she was only dozing at this point, and that she too had been waiting for Laura to leave. “Here, let’s get you more comfortably settled.” And with a minimum of movement, I got her settled under the covers, with her arms and legs straightened out while keeping any pressure off her wicked looking wounds. She made these little pain noises, as if the sheets were rubbing somehow.
 
I climbed under the covers, lying down beside her and carefully wrapping my arms around her, holding her carefully. The pain noises increased and she kept trying to turn over, and I realized that the cloth of my nightshirt must have been rubbing her sores somehow. I jumped out of bed just long enough to strip off my clothes and got back in, cradling her body with my own.
 
Caitlin struggled up from sleep to look at me. “You’re safe?” she whispered in a broken voice. “They didn’t get you?”
 
“I’m safe. They didn’t get me,” I assured her, holding her as tears leaked from her eyes. “They almost got you. What were you thinking?” I asked her, over and over, as I broke down and we both wept, until we cried ourselves to sleep.
 
--Chapter 2--
 
“Gracie?” Laura’s voice woke me quickly, not usually the way I wake up in the mornings, but then again how often do your professors, or even former professors, come into your room to wake you up? “Can you wake up for a minute?” Opening one eye, I could almost see her face as she bent over me; just enough to see that she didn’t look worried. “John is making breakfast for you both. He’s going to be bringing it up in a few minutes; I’ve grabbed a couple t-shirts for you both. Do you think you could get Caitlin awake and dressed? He wants to make sure she’s okay.”
 
“Yeah.” I yawned and stretched, rubbing my eyes before putting on the glasses she handed me. “Give me a couple minutes and we’ll be up and dressed when he gets up here.”
 
“Thanks.” Laura smiled, heading back downstairs to the kitchen.
 
“Caitlin, sweetie,” I whispered. “How do you feel?”
 
“Mmmm,” the sleepy girl beside me muttered, borrowing deeper into the blankets, and coincidentally into me. “I think my eyelashes hurt. Is that even possible?”
 
“I’m not surprised that everything hurts.” It felt very natural to put my arm around her shoulder as we lay there. “Can you sit up? Are you hungry? Dr. John is bringing us breakfast in bed, and I do believe that Laura would prefer that we were dressed when he brings it up.”
 
The eye that peeked out from the blankets was gleaming mischievously. “No. You think?” She did one of those full body stretches that cats seem to love doing, and sat up rubbing her eyes. “I have to pee. The bathroom would be?...”
 
"Almost to the stairs and through that door to the left.”
 
Climbing off the bed, she padded her way out to the bathroom, totally oblivious to the fact that she hadn’t a stitch on. Or maybe she just didn’t care. I don’t know.
 
Coming back from the bathroom, Caitlin jumped on the bed and stretched, bending her back as far as she could without running out of mattress space. Far enough for me to see that the bruises on her ribs were fading, that her ribs were a little too prominent, and that her breasts were small and perfect. Looking up into her eyes, I blushed when I realized that she was watching me watching her. Reaching for my own shirt, I pulled it on and arranged the pillows so that I could sit up leaning against the bed’s headboard.
 
Looking back at Caitlin, I blushed again when I saw that she’d been watching me. Seeing my discomfort, she laughed, a rich throaty chuckle, and then pulled on her own shirt before sitting up with her back against the headboard.
 
“Breakfast in bed,” she said with a grin, sighing with pleasure, and laughing when her sigh was interrupted by a yawn. “How cool is that. I wonder what he’ll make us. I’m so hungry; I think I could actually eat cat food, which I must say leaves a lot to be desired.”
 
“I think you’re safe. I’ve eaten plenty of meals that Dr. John’s made and they’ve all been wonderful,” I told her, brushing the hair off her face as she leaned against my side, resting her head against my shoulder and closing her eyes. “But I do think you’ll have to actually be awake to eat it.” Her comment was interrupted by the sound of feet on the stairs, and not long after Dr. John and Laura both appeared, each carrying a covered tray.
 
“I know it looks like a lot of food,” Dr. John began, placing the tray he was carrying on my desk and walking over to wrap Caitlin in his arms. “But I want you both to eat everything on your plates. You both have been burning a great deal of energy, and I don’t want either of you to get sick.” Looking down at Caitlin resting comfortably in his arms, he began stroking her hair. “How’re you feeling, sweet girl. Do you want something for the pain?”
 
“Just a couple ibu, Uncle John,” the reply was muffled. Caitlin had buried her face in his sweater, leaning into his hug, asking, “Can we go see mum today?”
 
“Of course we can. Laura and I have to run some errands this morning, but we’ll be back in time for a late lunch and then we’ll head over to your mum’s. Why don’t you two relax this morning, take a nice long bath, and maybe a nap or two?”
 
His tray was for Caitlin, and while they were talking Laura had helped me get comfortable before placing the tray on the bed straddling my legs, its collapsible sides surprisingly sturdy. Taking off the tray’s cover, I discovered that breakfast was indeed delicious looking, even if there was more food there than I usually ate in a day: scrambled eggs and bacon, pan-fried potatoes, a small bowl of cantaloupe pieces, a small plate full of steaming hot biscuits dripping with melted butter and honey, a glass of orange juice, and a mug of hot coffee already laced with cream and sugar. Standing next to the mug was a small carafe of more coffee and a small cream and sugar set.
 
“Thank you Dr. John, this looks divine.” I had to laugh as I looked at Caitlin’s tray. Her tray had everything mine did, plus a thick rare steak and a glass bottle of milk, whole milk if my guess was right.
 
“Thank you,” Dr. John said, his voice rough as he smoothed Caitlin’s hair in obvious affection. “Thank you for saving our girl.” With one last look at both of us, the Drs. Watson made their way downstairs.
 
“She’s not really my aunt, you know,” Caitlin began, interrupting her foray through the scrambled eggs, which had been mixed with cream cheese and spiced up with a handful of chopped chives.
 
“I didn’t think so,” I replied noncommittally, unsure of where the conversation was going, and not sure I wanted to start talking about what had happened quite yet. I wanted to enjoy being with Caitlin as long as I could. Why did I think this talk would drive her away?
 
Experience.
 
But we won’t go there.
 
Yet.
 
Maybe at all.
 
“She and my mum and Uncle John and my da were all great friends in college. Mum was Aunt Laura’s Maid of Honor and da was Uncle John’s Best Man, then when mum got pregnant she asked them to be godparents.
 
“And I bet they’re your favorite aunt and uncle,” I said after working my way around a mouthful of scrambled egg and potato topped off with a bite of steak that Caitlin had fed me.
 
“They’re my only aunt and uncle. But even if they weren’t, they would still be my favorites. And not because they bring us the best gifts.” Another pause while I fed her a bite of my biscuit, which was divine.
 
“Oh they do, do they? Like what?” I teased her; happy to have dodged needing to talk about what had happened. I mean, I wanted to know what was going on, but I had the feeling that conversation would change my life. And I wasn’t quite ready for that yet.
 
“You.” She answered simply.
 
Oh.
 
I guess we were going to have that talk after all. Damn. I didn’t know how to start, which in a way is a place to start.
 
“I have a lot of questions I want to ask,” I began when the silence started to get uncomfortable and before she could interrupt me. “And there are probably twice as many that I should ask if I could only think of them. So let me start with one off the top of my head. Are you a were-cat?”
 
“No.” She shook her head as she laughed. In relief, I suspect. “I’m a shapeshifter. It’s genetic. Mum and da are both cats.”
 
“So. No meowing at the full moon?”
 
“No.” And for some reason it was her turn to blush. “But put enough Guinness in me and I’ve been known to strip naked and howl.”
 
“Oh really? That, I’d like to see.”
 
“Next full moon, you’re on.” She paused for a while, being otherwise occupied with a knife and fork. “Can I ask you a question?”
 
“Sure,” I replied with a confidence I didn’t feel.
 
“I’ve always known I was a shifter. Did you always know you were a witch?”
 
“Me? A witch? I’m not.” Caitlin had shocked the ability to speak, or to even think in complete sentences right out of me.
 
“You’re not what?”
 
“A witch. Am I?”
 
“Uncle John and Aunt Laura both say that you are, and they’d both know.” She shrugged, cutting her steak in two and giving me a piece, clearly running out of steam.
 
“I’m a witch?”
 
“Let me ask you a question.” She paused until I had given my agreement, which took a while with my hands full of buttered biscuit and trying not to drip honey on my new flannel sheets. The sheets had been one of my Christmas presents from the twins, sheets that just happened to match perfectly the duvet cover on the down comforter currently spread across our laps. Conspiracy anyone?
 
“How did you know what to do when we were fighting those hounds? What made you think of the matches?”
 
Again I stopped and stared at her, startled. “I… I don’t know… I think I need to talk to Dr. John and Laura.”
 
“I think we both do,” she agreed setting her fork down with a sigh. “Can I be there when you do?”
 
“I guess.” I shrugged, completely out of my depth. “If I can be there with you.”
 
“You’re on,” Caitlin agreed readily. Giggling, she lay back down and wrapping her arms around her tummy, she said, “I can’t move. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much food at one time before.”
 
“I can see why Dr. John thought you needed it though,” I told her, pausing for a long stretch and a yawn. “I’m guessing that if you stay in your cat form for a long time you can’t eat enough for both the cat and the girl. Not enough calories for both metabolisms.”
 
“You could be right.” She looked at me, and I could see the light bulb going on. “I’d never thought about it. Of course, to be honest, this has never happened to me before. It just never occurred to me.” Caitlin had gotten up and placed her now empty tray on the desk, and mine on the dresser, and was now wandering around the room looking at everything. Stopping to look at the books in the bookcase, she looked over at me with a grin, and I squirmed when I realized that I’d been watching her looking at everything.
 
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled into my blankets, not looking at her. “I’ll stop staring eventually. I just can’t get used to you here.”
 
“Hey, I’m not complaining. I like watching you when you’re watching me. I can read every thought as it shows on your face.” The mattress shifted as she climbed back on the bed and wrapped herself around my back, brushing the hair out of my face so I could see her. “You can watch me whenever you want. What I was grinning about was your choice of books: exactly what I would have chosen for a young witch just coming into her powers.”
 
“Really?” I don’t know why I was so desperate not to be.
 
“Yup.”
 
“Then I am?” It seems the only person I can lie to is me, and even then not for long. It was a losing battle. And deep down even I knew it.
 
“I think the past two days have pretty much proved it,” she answered the question I asked, and the fears I’d not voiced. “I think it’s totally cool. I get to watch a witch learn her craft. How awesome is that?” She sat back with her arms still around me so I could see her face and believe her. Everything in my past told me not to trust her. But its hard to be afraid with a beautiful girl wrapped around you, holding you, and looking at you with that smile that makes you feel like you might actually be special to someone (other than say your mum and dad, or in my case Cormac and Deirdre).
 
“How much sleep do you think we got?” Caitlin asked, generously changing the subject to something I could actually face. Lying down, she did another one of those full body stretches that ended with a satisfyingly long yawn. “Why am I still so tired?”
 
“Cause we had a rather stressful night?” I suggested. “Why don’t we take a nap? Laura told me not to expect them for several hours, and to rest and take it easy this morning.” And cuddling back under the covers we were both asleep before she had a chance to reply.

 
This time I woke to the feeling of hands: stroking my face, my arms, and the backs of my hands. Opening one eye, I peered blearily up at Caitlin, who looked entirely too awake for me. I woke the next time to the feeling of lips as she kissed my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks, and when she knew I was awake my lips. We kissed until we both had to catch our breath, and I had to stretch and have a long ear-popping yawn, and we both came up from our yawns giggling.
 
The giggling turned to a gasp as Caitlin reached over and started to kiss me for real, serious kissing that let me know just how she was beginning to feel about me, and helped me realize how I was beginning to feel about her. She kissed me on my lips, my cheeks, and did things to my ears that made my eyes cross and my thoughts scatter. Just when the kissing was getting good, Caitlin pulled back just far enough to be able to speak and whispered, her lips brushing mine, “I think we should get up and take our bath if we’re going to be ready when Dr. John and Laura come pick us up to go to mum’s.”
 
“Before we do that, though, I’d like to take a look…” I couldn’t say it; I couldn’t be the one to remind her of what she’d been through.
 
“My sores?” she asked, looking in my eyes and seeing my dilemma. “Front or back?”
 
“Back first?” Smiling at me in understanding, Caitlin lay down on her stomach, stretching as she did so, laughing richly as she caught me watching her. Waiting until she had gotten comfortable, I brushed her hair off of her shoulders to look at the wound where the beta hound had tried to snap her spine. The bruises were an ugly mix of colors: purple, green, and yellow, in two splotches on either side of her spine, but on careful examination the skin was not broken. Thinking she might be nervous, I rubbed my hands up and down her arms and then over her shoulder blades, careful to avoid the wicked looking bruises.
 
“Don’t mind me if I start purring,” she chuckled lazily. “Just let me know if I start to drool, that’s kind of embarrassing.”
 
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” I assured her, before continuing. Rubbing my hands down her shoulder blades to her ribs I found more bruises, and realized that even in cat form she must have been underweight. I rubbed my hands down her sides and lower back, and only discovered some seriously ticklish spots that would need to be looked into more closely later on. Just below where her back stopped being her back and started being her bum, I found two more bruises, one on each side. Again the skin wasn’t broken, it looked like a rash of sorts, maybe road rash, but I’m not sure. Then I realized that the bruises on her ribs had the same texture.
 
“The alpha.” She answered the question I hadn’t even thought. “When he tried to mount, those are where he put his front paws. His pads felt like sandpaper.
 
“I’m sorry. I only wish I’d been faster.”
 
“Don’t be. You got them off me, if they’d gotten you it would have been much worse, and I wouldn’t have been able to help you the way that you helped me. Now, the front?” and she rolled over so slowly that I knew that she knew she didn’t have any clothes on and that she was letting me look as long as I wanted. What I found myself staring at and could not look away from was the look in her eyes: there was knowledge in those golden green eyes, and longing, and a fierce, tender protectiveness.
 
Protectiveness? For me? That would require more thought than I could give it at that moment. So I put it aside and continued my exploration of her wounds.
 
That look in her eyes kept drawing me back, however, and it was several minutes before I could bring myself to stop kissing those lovely lips and search for more bruises and signs of trauma. Feeling nervous myself, I started with her arms, rubbing my hands up and down, looking at each finger and short but well groomed nail. Their were no bruises on her collarbones, and her breasts were, as I think I mentioned earlier, small and perfect, and her ribs were also too prominent for girl or cat, and it was on the lower ribs that I found another bruise. This one had not broken the skin, or thankfully the ribs beneath it. The skin over her stomach was clear of bruises and felt as soft as silk, and I paused my search for bruises to nuzzle my face into that soft skin, and just feel thankful that she was here, and that they had been stopped before they could do their worst.
 
I think she knew my thoughts for I felt her hand brushing my hair and stroking my scalp. Not to direct me, or suggest anything, just to let me know that she knew and was glad to be here too.
 
I found two more bruises: one on each hip bone, and oddly enough one last bruise on the top of her left foot where that dolt of an alpha had stepped on it. That left one last place that might have a wound on it, and I really did not want to see what kind of damage could be done to down there. But when she bent her knees and opened her legs for me, I almost wept. There wasn’t a single mark or red spot anywhere. She was beautifully perfect.
 
Kneeling between her legs, I bent down and gave her a kiss on each of her inner thighs, moved forward enough to reverently kiss her, and then lay down between her legs with my face once more nuzzling the silky soft skin of her stomach and wept. Caitlin held me while I wept, stroking my hair and whispering sweet nothings I could barely hear and would never remember, held me until my tears stopped and my breathing slowed. When I looked up at her, she kissed my tears away before kissing my breath away.
 
I’m sure we would have done much more, but the grandfather clock chimed the hour and scared the two of us into the hiccups. The hiccups led to the giggles, and the giggles got us out of bed and into the bathroom. The bath we took was long and full of scented, oiled water, and almost made us not ready when Dr. John and Laura returned with the news that we would eat lunch at mum’s house. Almost.
 
We left our neighborhood, heading north through Hampstead, past the magnificent Kenwood House, past the Heath with its ghosts of highwaymen long gone, and into the farmland surrounding the city of London. I can never give exact directions to Caitlin’s mother, Bronwyn’s house. I have accused Dr. John of never taking the same route twice, and he cheerfully admits as much. But Laura, who tells me that you need to know such things, has also told me that you know Bronwyn, so you know her house, and most likely how to get there. Or not.
 
Anyway, we drove up to her house, which sits on thirty acres bordered on one side by a meandering stream, and on the opposite side by the road which is the only approach. The hedgerow that borders there property is backed by a line of tall thick bare to the bones trees, possibly some kind of larch that in the summer must look like some kind of magical green wall.
 
The house where Caitlin grew up is big and rambling and can’t be seen from the road. Driving up to it, I had my eyes glued instead on the family standing in the entry shading their eyes from the sun’s glare, waiting for their darling girl to come home so they could assure themselves that she was safe. Caitlin was out of the car before it even stopped and in her mother’s arms in a heartbeat, and it was only then that she gave vent to all of the fear and pain that she’d felt since she so bravely ran at those Hell Hounds. Safe in her mother’s arms, with her father holding both of them, she cried and shuddered and at last healed.
 
Standing beside the car rather self-consciously while Dr. John and Laura unloaded the car’s boot, my musings were interrupted by the rapid approach of a dark gray bundle of fur which jumped up into my arms and shifted in mid-jump into a very small version of Caitlin.
 
“Are you Caitlin’s Gracie?” she asked, placing her hands on my shoulders and seeing how far she could lean to one side or the other.
 
“I guess I am,” I answered, watching as Dr. John and Laura made their way into the house with the first of their bundles. “What’s your name?”
 
“I’m Angharad,” she answered with a giggle. “I’m five.”
 
“Are you Caitlin’s?” I asked, grinning at her to let her know I was teasing.
 
“No. She’s my big sister. She only acts like she’s my momma.” She laughed.
 
“Are you a momma?” She was looking down now, one small hand resting on the mound of my breast, and I realized that shifters must be naturally flat, or at least flatter than I was. Go figure.
 
“No, I’m not,” I replied, tempting fate before making it worse by adding, “but someday I hope to be.”
 
“Oh.” Evidently that required some thought, but after a while she looked up again and, smiling wistfully, said, “Do you wanna come in? It’s gonna take them a long time to get all cried out, you know.”
 
“Why don’t we help Laura and Dr. John bring their packages in?” And jumping down, she took my hand as we each carried a bag into the house. Once she had taken my coat and scarf and gloves, and shown me where to stow my boots, Angharad ran off yelling back that she’d just be a moment.
 
Dr. John and Laura had vanished into what I later learned was the library, while I stood and looked in awe at the house that would become my second home.
 
That first trip, with no one looking over my shoulder, I indulged myself and looked at everything. Everything about Bronwyn’s house was sunny and inviting that cold January day. The kitchen was large and well arranged with a fireplace against one wall and enough cabinets and countertops to give me storage envy. Putting Laura’s bags on the counter I poked around, smelling the stew simmering on the stove and the bread in the oven and the collection of loaves cooling on the hearth.
 
“You can light the fire if you’d like,” the voice startled me and turning around I found Bronwyn had come in and was unpacking Laura’s bags. “I’d like to thank you for looking after my girl.”
 
“Am I really a witch?” It just slipped out. Honest. Slapping a hand over my mouth, I looked at Bronwyn stunned.
 
“Yes, sweet girl. You are.” Putting down whatever she had just picked up, Bronwyn walked up to me and hugged me, holding me until she felt me relax and then started stroking my hair. “It’s not a bad thing,” she assured me as she explained. “It’s rather like most things in life; it is what you make of it. What you do with it makes a thing good or bad.” And oddly enough, I believed her.
 
“Will you help me?” I asked. Usually for me, asking for help is right up there with having teeth pulled without anesthesia. This time I just asked, thinking that I might actually get the help I needed. And even I could admit I needed all the help I could get: I was so out of my depth here. But that was the gift that Dr. John and Laura had both given me: the ability to trust people other than the twins and the girls, otherwise known as my siblings.
 
“Of course we’ll help you,” Laura called from the doorway. “That’s part of the reason we invited you.” Turning, I saw Laura and Caitlin standing arm in arm.
 
Caitlin walked up to where I stood with her mum and wrapped her arms around me, whispering, “And I’ll help you too, as much as I can.”
 
“Do you want to talk about it,” Laura asked, walking in and putting the kettle on the stove: long talks in England always involve tea; or perhaps a pint of something or other. “You must be bursting with questions. What would you like to ask us?”
 
“How did you know?” Was the only question I could think to ask, but then added, “How did you know when I didn’t have a clue?”
 
“I think this is where being a teacher helped. I’ve gotten rather used to seeing in others what they might not see in themselves.”
 
“And you saw this? In me?”
 
“Not at first.” She smiled reassuringly, and once again she was my teacher despite the subject. Witchcraft? Me? The whole idea was hard for me to wrap my mind around. But Laura had said she would help me do it, and I trusted her. Still do.
 
“What did you see?” Again my fears betrayed me. Mum had never seen much in me and never failed to let me know it, and the stepfather from hell had seen me as a thing, but for some reason the twins, my siblings, Cormac and Deirdre loved me.
 
“I saw a great deal of potential,” Laura answered right off, as if she didn’t have to think about it. “Then I saw a good student and an even better friend. By the time you had graduated, I had my suspicions and even more so when I met Cormac and Deirdre.”
 
“What made you suspicious?” I asked, secretly upset that she would be suspicious of the two people who meant the world to me. Or maybe not so secretly.
 
“I don’t mean I was suspicious of them.” Once more someone answered what I hadn’t said. And I must admit it was getting old. “I meant that I was beginning to think that you might be a witch and that meeting your brother and sister only added to that belief. Meeting Cormac and Deirdre, I thought they were absolutely honest and loving people, who had certainly done their best for you.”
 
“They raised me.” That was the truth. “More than mum or her husbands ever did. But you should meet the girls too. They’re good people.”
 
“The girls?” Caitlin asked as Bronwyn handed her a basket of bread to take out to the table. Taking a sip from the mug of tea that Bronwyn had handed me before I answered meant that Caitlin was back to hear me.
 
“Mum had two sets of twins, really close together: Aisling and Bridgid, and then Cormac and Deirdre. So to tell which set you were talking about Ais and Bridie are the girls and Cor and Dee are the twins.”
 
“How much of a gap in age is there between the twins and you?” Laura asked, taking plates of food out to the dining room.
 
“Nineteen years,” I told her when she’d returned. If they had any reaction to my reply I didn’t see it, for Bronwyn had handed me a handful of silverware wrapped in napkins. I had just finished putting one at each place when Bronwyn came out carrying a large tureen of stew followed by Laura with the teapot and Caitlin carrying the condiments. As if by magic, no sooner had Bronwyn placed the stew on the table than Dr. John and Angharad walked in with Caitlin’s da.
 
“Gracie, this is Caitlin’s Da. Brychan, this is Gracie O’Shaunnessy.”
 
“Pleased to meet you, sir,” I said, shaking his hand and seeing where Caitlin got her white blond hair.
 
“Call me Brychan,” he said with a smile that was almost identical to Caitlin and Angharad’s before he poked fun at his friend. “You’ve probably sir’ed him enough for a lifetime.” We had walked to the table and Brychan pulled out a chair for me, kissing my cheek as he pushed me in.
 
Sitting at the table, listening to the conversations going on around me, I was swamped by a wave of exhaustion as everything that had happened since coming to London washed over me, and the thought of food was one thought too many.
 
“What’s wrong, you don’t like my cooking?” I was looking at the table in a food induced stupid when Bronwyn’s question finally made it through the fog. The denials were on my lips when I looked up and saw the grin she was wearing, a grin that everyone else at the table also wore.
 
“That’s not it.” I answered lamely, blushing brightly as she laughed, a rich
warm laugh just like her daughters’. “It all looks delicious, and if we hadn’t just eaten more food for breakfast than I usually eat all day, I would probably be making a big pig of myself. But I can’t face food right now.”
 
“Me neither,” Caitlin sighed, looking longingly at her favorite dishes. “May we be excused?”
 
“Certainly, why don’t you show Gracie the maze?” She smiled as she turned to me and said, “I think you’ll like it. Granted, it’s not much to look at in the middle of January, but its still a pretty special place.”
--Chapter 3--
 
 
 
 
 
Stepping out the great room’s French doors, Caitlin led me down the rolling lawn to what looked like a giant hedge. “What is this maze?” I asked, noticing that the hedge turned a corner and continued on for a distance, longer than I could judge from this angle. I grinned when Caitlin took my hand as we walked along the path bordered with big empty beds on one side and what would probably turn out to be a knot garden on the other: walking hand in hand with a pretty girl had not been on the list of things to do in England, but I was certainly enjoying it. Walking beside her and listening to her talk gave me a reason to watch her, which I would have done anyway.
 
“We’d all read The Secret Garden when we were young,” Caitlin explained, following the hedge to the end of one side and around the corner to the hidden door. “We all loved puzzles, especially mazes. We kept trying to make one in the garden, and Mum finally agreed to let us have one acre for our own garden, if we would stay out of hers and stop destroying her cash crops with our mucking about.”
 
She paused to open the door into the garden, leading me in, and then shrugged guiltily, adding, “In our defense, it wasn’t always easy to tell which plants mum was growing would turn out to be the cash crop, some years even she guessed wrong. That’s why she plants so much and such a variety: one year its herbs, one year its organic veggies, and one year it was nothing but bachelor’s buttons, if you can believe that. You never can tell what people will want.”
 
“She gave you an acre and you walled it up?” The trees in the garden were large enough to obscure any view all on their own, and must have added to the difficulty in solving the puzzle of the maze. With the annuals gone, though, the maze had no walls so we walked straight through.
 
“Of course,” she answered wryly, and the smile she wore cut the sarcasm as she continued. “Actually we started with just the hedge, and in the beginning it was rather short. Mum made us keep it short until we showed her that we could be responsible and that we wouldn’t use the space to get into trouble. Once the hedge started growing, though, we added the wall behind it to control its growth and so it wouldn’t take over our space.”
 
“And the maze?”
 
“That was the fun part.” In the grin she flashed me; I saw for a brief moment what she must have been like as a little girl: part mischief, part wonder, and all amazing.
 
“We changed the path every year,” she went on, unaware of my wandering thoughts. “We used mostly annuals, with some perennials in movable pots, and, as you can see, just enough trees to make it interesting. Every year we made a special room, and it was never in the same space twice. When we were young it was a covered sandbox, and then a tree house/fort thing, and now it is this.”
 
While we were talking we had reached the far end of the maze, and as she finished she stepped aside and let me see what had become of their sandbox.
 
It reminded me of the open pagodas you see in pictures of Japan, with an elaborately decorated roof line, four carved pillars to hold up the roof and a minimalist approach to furniture. There were no walls, just a only a knee high retaining wall across the back that mostly served as a back rest/headboard for the mattress that was placed in front of it. The area around it had been paved in limestone with thyme and other creepers filling in the gaps.
 
“In warmer weather we hang mosquito netting to keep the bugs out.” Caitlin explained, as she walked around to the side and showed me the two large sea chests hidden by the deck above it. “The mattress is usually put away in the winter. Mum must have brought it out to let it sit in the fresh air; she knew I’d want to show this to you. What do you think?”
 
“I think it’s amazing,” I answered honestly, taking her hand and leading Caitlin up on to the deck, noting idly that someone had spread a comforter over the mattress and put pillows on it as well. “I’m in this perfect place, with this beautiful girl, and we even have privacy; what more could I ask for.”
 
“For what?” she asked, looking a little doubtful as I pulled her into my arms, just holding her as I took the time to get used to being able to.
 
“My turn.” And I kissed her like I meant it. She started, as if I’d surprised her, and then started kissing me back. I was busy unbuttoning her blouse, starting at the top and working my way to the bottom which I had pulled loose from where she’d tucked it into her jeans. Still kissing her, I ran my hands across the silky soft skin of her stomach and then up the side of her ribs, not looking for bruises or scratches, just reveling in the feel of her, in being allowed to hold her, to touch her, to be with her.
 
I know what you’re thinking. Corny, Sappy, Romantic. And you’re probably thinking that if she starts telling me about having hot steamy sex outside in January in England during a cold snap, you’ll be fitting me with a straight jacket. Well, I’m here to tell you. It. Didn’t. Happen. Dammit!
 
We were stretched out on that very comfortable comforter-covered mattress, our shirts were off and we had just settled down for some serious snogging, when I heard dogs growling. And they sounded very, very close. Now at this point I didn’t know much about shifters but I figured that if you’re other form is a cat, you’re not going to keep big dogs as pets. Just a hunch. These dogs sounded huge, like the kind we’d run into in the park huge. And they sounded pissed, royally.
 
Something about being here, in this special place, and hearing them just outside, made me see red. Kind of like the time I’d chased my stepfather around the kitchen with the carving knife, the last time he tried to feel me up. I wanted to get up and give them a piece of my mind, preferably with a lit match, but when I tried to get up Caitlin wrapped her arms around me and held on like I was a life preserver and she was sinking fast. She was so afraid for me she was shaking. I wanted to stay and make her feel safe and part of me wanted to kick their butts for making her feel afraid. I was feeling more and more torn. And then I wasn’t torn: I was standing beside myself, looking down at me with Caitlin in my arms shaking with fear.
 
Well, if I couldn’t do anything for her fear, I could do something about what was causing it. Walking around inside the walled garden, I heard the two hounds growling just outside, looking for a way in. Making my way through the wall and the hedge, which is not something I would recommend for the weak of stomach, because it nearly caused me to hurl and I didn’t actually have a stomach at that point; anyway, I came out of the garden in time to see the alpha sucker punch the other hound.
 
I’m not sure how what happened next happened. All I can say is I realized that 1) I had no body, and 2) I had somehow left my clothes behind, all of my clothes, and 3) my matches were back in the pocket of the jeans I’d left behind on the body I was no longer wearing. Silently swearing in frustration, I thought of fire, and flicked my fingers at the alpha, as if I were flicking the idea of fire at him. He howled in pain and went up like he’d been doused in alcohol, followed soon by the other hound: just because the alpha was trying to beat the crud out of him didn’t make him safe to be around. They burned and this time I was able to watch and saw them vanish like puffs of smoke.
 
I sighed in relief thinking we were safe, when I heard someone bellow like an enraged bull. Walking around behind the walled garden, I spotted two young men fighting in the dirt. Somehow I knew they were the two responsible for the …the hounds, and that they had been projections and not physical dogs. But these two were real, and physical, and trying to beat the shit out of each other. Or rather the alpha was trying to beat the other, who I know realized was not the beta of this particular pack, but the omega: the ultimate low man on the totem pole.
 
The alpha kept punching him in the ribs and trying to pin him. Wrestling him to the ground, the alpha tore the other’s pants off, opened his own and started raping him. I was stunned for a second, and then I got pissed. I ran over to where they were, and somehow I could still see the alpha’s tail even though the hound had been destroyed. Not bothering to wonder how or why, I grabbed that tail and pulled him off and away from his pack mate. Thinking of fire once more, I put the thought of fire in my hands and into that tail that wasn’t there. The alpha certainly felt it, though. Giving a yelp of pain, the alpha twisted free and ran for the woods and as far away from us as he could get: leaving his pack mate behind, wounded and helpless.
 
The omega was in no shape to go anywhere, and I had no way to help him and neither did Caitlin, but I knew that somehow I had to get help. I tried to think of a way that I might be able to get the attention of someone in the house. Being rather new to all of this, I couldn’t think of any other way than to go to the kitchen and tell them, so that’s what I did, being very careful to not run through things. I reached the kitchen and managed to tell Laura what I needed. She was shocked when she saw me and stunned when I told her what had happened. She said that Dr. John and Brychan would come, and soon I heard them following me as I made my way back around the walled garden.
 
Dr. John looked surprised to see me. I’m not sure if it was because I wasn’t wearing my body, or because my spirit walking self wasn’t wearing any clothes. I don’t know, I didn’t ask. I did ask the omega several questions, as he swam in and out of consciousness. His answers were not comforting.
 
“We were trying for you, we didn’t know about the cat,” was his first whispered answer. “Our alpha wants you taken care of in the worst way.”
 
“That wasn’t the alpha with you?” Just shows what I knew about hounds.
 
“Oh no.” He shook his head, his whole body shaking with shock, and fear. “He would have gotten you, if he were here. No one can escape him.”
 
“How did you set loose the hounds?” Dr. John asked. We couldn’t really answer his fear, so we just went on with our questions. “Are they projections of you?”
 
“Yes, our alpha releases them,” the answer seemed to involve equal parts fear and shame until he explained. “He drives us into a mindless rage and then he rips them from us, like ripping out a soul.”
 
“How does he drive you into rages,” Brychan asked, almost as if he were afraid of the answer.
 
“He beats us, humiliates us, and then he rapes us. He uses our shame and humiliation to fuel the rage. And he lets our beta do these things to me.”
 
That was the answer I’d been expecting, having seen what the beta had done to him here. And it was one horror too many. Asking Dr. John to take care of him, and receiving his answer, I somehow found myself back in my body.
 
Throwing myself off of the mattress and out of the pagoda, I knelt in front of the nearest patch of dirt and started throwing up: the tea that Bronwyn had made for us, breakfast, dinner from the night before, the lunch I’d had before that, my toenails, and possibly even a rib or two.
 
All things must end and after a very long time, this did as well. I became aware that Caitlin was kneeling behind me, holding my hair out of the way and whispering soothing words at me, and then that Laura was also there, wrapping me in a blanket and handing me a glass of water to wash out my mouth and a warm, wet cloth to wash my face.
 
“Gracie, can you stand?” Laura sounded rather insistent, like she’d been saying this for a while, so I tried to pay attention. I sat up and handed her back the empty cup and the washcloth, leaning into Caitlin’s arms.
 
“I don’t know.” I answered, after trying to take stock and realized I was feeling as bad and as shaky as the last time I’d had bronchitis, oh joy. “I’ll try.”
 
“Good girl, come on let’s get you up.” She continued the running stream of encouragement as I got to my feet and pulled the blanket around me as I slowly made my way to the walled garden’s entrance. Looking up, I saw a young man standing in the doorway: tall and thin with bright red hair, light blue eyes and a face full of freckles. He saw Caitlin and smiled like she was the best thing he’d seen in ages. Caitlin gave a little cry, running up to him and he picked her up and swung her around, holding her close.
 
Jumping back down, Caitlin took his hand and led him back to where Laura and I had made it up the path. “You must be Gracie,” he began, looking at Caitlin with such love in his eyes that my heart wilted and my strength left. “My name is Caerwyn, and I’m Caitlin’s…” Well, I admit it, I didn’t have the courage or the nerve to hear what he was of Caitlin’s so when my body wanted out, the rest of me said “okay” and I fainted: fell like a downed tree. Kerplunk.

 
The sound of voices woke me, just enough to know that Laura and Bronwyn were giving me the once over, looking for signs of shock, and for any bruises from fainting headfirst onto a limestone pathway. If I’d had the strength, I’d have rolled my eyes at myself, but I didn’t so I just lay there listening to them asking questions and Caitlin and someone I didn’t know answering. A little voice whispered in my ear his name, “Caerwyn”. I lost track of their conversation, heard the words “lunch” and “tea”, and then heard Laura and Bronwyn leave.
 
“They’re gone,” Caitlin whispered, leaning over me and brushing the hair off my face. “And I know you’re awake. I want you to meet someone.”
 
I opened my eyes, looked up into Caitlin’s worried eyes, and giggled, whispering back to her, “We’ve definitely got to stop meeting like this. What will your parents think?” What can I say, shock does that to me.
 
We giggled until we ran out of breath, and then lay in a big pile on the bed, waiting. For what? I don’t know. I looked at Caitlin and then over at the thin freckled face of this boy that meant so much to Caitlin, looked into those open, honest blue eyes seeing the same startling intelligence and fierce protective tenderness that I’d seen in Caitlin’s eyes, and in Bronwyn’s when she watched Caitlin and Angharad.
 
“You are?”
 
“Her twin.” He smiled at me, watching my embarrassment. “And you’re her Gracie, and woe be to anyone who tries to get in her way when she thinks you’re in trouble.” He glanced back at his twin and laughed to see her blushing as she stuck out her tongue at him.
 
“Are you feeling better?” he asked, as Caitlin crawled up and leaned against
his side, resting her chin on her hands.
 
I had to think about that for a minute, but was surprised when I realized that I was. “Yes, I am, a little anyway. At least I’m back in my body.”
 
“How did you do that?” Caitlin asked, reaching over her brother and taking one of my hands and holding it.
 
“I don’t know. I remember lying there holding you and feeling torn; between staying with you and trying to make you feel safe, and going after those bloody hounds and actually making sure that you were safe. And then I wasn’t torn. I was beside myself.”
 
“How did it feel?” Caerwyn asked that one, looking for a split second like he knew more about this than me. But then, doesn't everybody?
 
“Cold,” I answered. “I was outside in late January with no clothes on and with no body on.”
 
“And it’s a miracle you didn’t get hypothermia, young lady,” the voice in the doorway sounded equally vexed and relieved. Bronwyn came in and smiled down at me. “I’m glad to see you’re awake, John and Laura were worried about you. Now, if you would all like to get dressed, supper is ready.” And she turned and walked back out, winking at me as she did so.
 
That was when I realized that we’d been lying in bed all of this time, and not one of us had a stitch on. Oops?
 
It took us a while to get dressed. Okay, it took me a long while to get dressed; I kept having to stop and catch my breath and sit down or be dizzy. Eventually, though we were ready to face the others. We entered the great room with Caerwyn walking beside me and Caitlin leading, holding my other hand, as neither of them trusted me not to fall on my face. Dr. John was helping Bronwyn put the food on the table while Laura was talking to Angharad and holding her on her lap.
 
“Here, we’ve got bowls of soup and mugs of hot tea for all of you,” Dr. John explained as he came over and took my arm, leading me to the chair next to Laura and Angharad. “Lots of good hot soup and hot tea to warm you up.”
 
“How do you feel?” Laura asked, coming up and feeling my forehead. Angharad for her part wrapped her twiggy thin arms around my neck, kissing my cheek. “You sure gave us a shock, spirit walking like that.”
 
“You? How do you think I felt?” Sitting down, I looked down at the soup with little interest; my stomach had definite ideas about what it would and would not accept. The soup turned out to be chicken and dumplings, full of little pillows of dumplings and lots of vegetables and pieces of chicken. Taking a cautious bite, I had to stop and savor the miracle in my mouth that was Bronwyn’s chicken and dumplings. Somehow she had taken comfort food, made it elegant, savory and seasoned while still being comfort food. Talk was temporarily suspended while everyone sat and enjoyed her feast.
 
“If we’re going to talk of uncomfortable things, why don’t we move to a more comfortable location,” Bronwyn suggested, clearing the table and taking the now sleeping Angharad from Laura. “There are fresh pots of coffee and of tea, help yourselves and we can start when I get back from putting sleeping beauty here to bed.” From such innocent words would come such pain and heartbreak that even now the irony of it all almost sickens me. And I’m going through enough nausea as it is, thank you very much.
 
“I’m sure you must have questions.” Laura began once we were all seated. “We can only promise to tell you all that we know. It will be up to you to decide to trust us.”
 
I had to think for a few minutes, not because I didn’t have any questions, but paradoxically because I had too many: too many questions. There were too many questions which wouldn’t, or couldn’t, be answered, or whose answers would require more explanation that I was up for. What I needed was something simple and concrete, which led me to a question.
 
“How is Owen?” I asked, looking over at Caerwyn. Somehow I knew that he would know.
 
“He’s in rather bad shape, but he’s resting and I don’t think he needs to go to hospital,” Brychan answered, looking over at Laura with a look I didn’t understand and didn’t want to try to decipher.
 
“So what is he? Is he a shifter? A were-hound? I know that great thing was torn from him, but is he going to turn into a hound whenever he gets pissed, like the Hulk or something?” For some reason, the Hulk comment cracked them all up and it was several minutes before someone could answer.
 
“I don’t think he started out as a shifter,” Caerwyn explained, sitting back with his arms around my shoulders, one hand idly playing with Caitlin’s hair as she leaned against me. We had all three sat down in one love seat without even thinking about it. But it was a roomy love seat and I felt comforted surrounded by them. “I think he is one now, though,” he continued. “Once he heals up some, I’ll start helping him learn how to control when he changes, and into what. He’ll probably always change into a hound; I’ll teach him how to make sure it never again is that kind of hound.”
 
“You don’t blame Owen for what happened?” Bronwyn asked calmly. Too calmly, but I was starting to feel the exhaustion threatening to overwhelm me, so I answered without thinking or worrying about what it all meant.
 
“Why would I blame him? He was the omega of that pack, and a very messed up pack at that, if they’re using dogs or even wolves as their model. Owen had less control over what happened to him or what the others did and ordered him to do than Angharad.”
 
“I’m just surprised that you picked that up, knowing as little about shifters as you do.”
 
“How did you know how to talk so we could hear you?” Dr. John asked from the chair and a half that he and Laura had taken. The epitome of professionalism at school, away from work they tended to act like teenagers- sitting close together, holding hands, with his hand always straying to her waist or resting on her leg.
 
“What do you mean? I was just talking. Wasn’t I?”
 
“You were talking to us, but you’d left your body, and thus your vocal chords back with Caitlin. Who didn’t hear a sound.”
 
“Including at times, your breathing,” Caitlin added, and I heard again how much it had frightened her.
 
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, giving her a hug. “I didn’t mean to scare you; I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”
 
“I think we’ve done enough talking for now,” Laura interrupted. She’d been watching me very carefully and I’m not sure what she saw but somehow she knew I’d reached my limit. And no sooner had she said that than I started shivering, a great shuddering trembling that shook my whole body.
 
“Caitlin, Caerwyn.” Their mum began, but got no further.
 
“Don’t worry, mum, we’ll take care of her,” Caerwyn assured her.
 
Slipping out from behind me, he stood and held out his hand to me. I thought he was helping me stand, but instead he pulled me up and then swept me off my feet. Walking out of the great room, he carried me down the hall, and up the stairs to their rooms: a grand suite with a large sunny playroom and a bathroom between the two bedrooms.
 
“Caitlin, kitty, run a bath please,” Caerwyn asked when Caitlin caught up with us. “Make it warm, but not too hot.” She filled the tub while he held me as if I weighed nothing, and then they both helped me out of my clothes. If I hadn’t been shivering so hard I was afraid I’d bite my tongue, I might have been embarrassed, especially when they both started undressing. But soon I was sitting in a tub of hot water, the shuddering, shivering had stopped, and frankly Scarlet, I didn’t give a damn.
 
And again nothing happened, dammit.
 
“I’m so tired,” I whined, once the shivering and shuddering had stopped enough for me to talk, “Why am I so tired, Caitlin?”
 
“Don’t worry about it, sweet girl,” she murmured to me, brushing my wet hair out of my eyes, “Just relax. Sleep if that’s what you need, we’ve got you. We’ll put you to bed when we’re done with our bath.” And I might have liked to argue, I even tried, but the exhaustion had me firmly in its jaws and I was still arguing about it when I fell asleep.
--Chapter 4--
 
 
 
 
 
They next day dawned crisp and clear, the new snow covering everything in a blanket of white. I woke in what I guessed was Caitlin’s bed, her warm body spooned around my back and Caerwyn’s body snuggled up against my front. If I’m any judge, he was definitely happy to be there. Or he had to pee. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.
 
Or maybe that’s just me.
 
Anyway, I stopped that train of thought before it got me into trouble and looked up into Caerwyn’s eyes: his very amused and disgustingly awake and very beautiful blue eyes. And I knew that he’d seen every thought I’d just had as it played across my face.
 
“I do have to pee,” he whispered with a chuckle. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy to be here. And I’m glad to see that you’re feeling better. Caitlin was worried about you.”
 
“I’ve got to pee,” I whispered back. “Do you think we could get up, take care of business, and be back in bed before Caitlin realizes we’re gone?”
 
“Not a chance, babe,” the muttered reply came from somewhere in the vicinity of my shoulder blade. “But make it quick, that was a lot of tea I drank last night, and I’m feeling it this morning.”
 
I went first and then made a side trip for a quick shower, while Caitlin and Caerwyn took care of business, this time including soap and a wash cloth. I had just finished drying off and had wrapped the very large and wonderfully soft and absorbent towel around me when the door opened and Caitlin snuck in. Their bathroom had been designed with the tub/shower in a separate room from the water closets, which were in separate rooms from the sinks, so when Caitlin shut the door after herself, we were in our own little world: warm and steamy from my shower and private. Yeah.
 
“Feeling better?” Caitlin asked, walking up and running her hands up my arms before wrapping her arms around me. The kiss she gave me scattered my synapses to the four winds and it was several minutes before I realized that oxygen might be a good thing. We both came up for breath, gasping and laughing, glad no one else had seen us be so silly. But then again, it’s easy to be happy and silly when you don’t know you’ve been cursed.
 
“I am,” I admitted, smiling ruefully. “I feel like I could eat another one of Dr. John’s enormous breakfasts, though. I hope my appetite goes back to normal or I’m going to blimp up.”
 
“I wouldn’t worry about it quite yet,” she assured me, but of course we were talking about weight so I didn’t believe her until she explained. “You burned up an incredible amount of energy yesterday with what you did: spirit walking like that. You need to replace what you’d burned up or you’ll get as skinny as me, and I think you’re perfect just the way you are.” See why I didn’t believe her? But she did make me understand why I was ready to eat a horse, and the bus it rode in on.
 
“And I still think your ribs are sticking out a bit much,” I said, my hands holding onto said ribs just below her breasts, which were still perfect. For some reason, neither Caitlin nor Caerwyn felt terribly inclined to wear clothes. Go figure. “So why don’t we get dressed and see what’s for breakfast.”
 
“I thought you’d never ask,” Caerwyn’s voice came through the door, followed by his body and his cheerful grin. He too wasn’t wearing any clothes, and he was still happy to be here. Hmmm. I was still trying to figure that one out when he explained, “I need to take a shower. The bath was nice, but no soap was involved and I’m feeling less than clean. I’ll make it quick and then we can head down for breakfast?”
 
“Why don’t we get dressed and go see if Owen is up?” Caitlin suggested, “He would probably appreciate the company, and breakfast would do him some good, too. He looks awfully skinny, like they didn’t feed him enough.”
 
“Or more likely, didn’t let him eat enough,” I suggested, pulling on my blue jeans and the long sleeved t-shirt that Caitlin had borrowed from Caerwyn’s closet for me. Small perfect breasts do not require shirts with enough room in them for me to fit comfortably. Throwing my jean jacket on over everything, I followed Caitlin into the playroom and then across to Caerwyn’s room, careful to knock and only opening the door after Owen had invited us in.
 
“How are you feeling?” I asked, glad to see him sitting up even if he did look half asleep. “We didn’t wake you, did we?”
 
“No, I was just kind of dozing.” He answered the second question, the first he answered with a shrug and a shy smile. He was rather good looking when he smiled, and when someone wasn’t beating him up or trying to rape him. I was also relieved to see that his eyes were a friendly brown instead of the bottomless black rimmed with fiery red that had scared the bejeebers out of me when I’d been stared at by the hounds.
 
Reining in my wandering thoughts, I caught up with them in time to hear his next words. “I could hear you two carrying on in the shower. It was nice to hear people being happy to be with each other.”
 
“Well, we’re happy that you’re here, too. And we came by to see if you would like to join us for breakfast. Gracie’s stomach is about to rumble its way out if we don’t go soon.” Caitlin was teasing me, and we all laughed when her stomach made its own needs known.
 
“Let me get dressed and I’ll be ready to go,” Owen said, sitting up careful to keep his blankets spread across his lap. “My clothes were trashed, but Caerwyn said I could borrow some of his.”
 
“I’ll get you some jeans and a t-shirt,” Caitlin answered. “I already had to raid his dresser for a shirt for Gracie, it should be easy.”
 
We had just finished helping Owen get dressed, when Caerwyn emerged from his shower, clean and dressed and looking quite nice, if I do say so myself.
 
“Shall we see what’s for breakfast?” Caerwyn asked, wrapping his arm around Owen’s shoulder and letting him lean in close. It was a quiet group that left their suite of rooms and headed down towards the kitchen: each of us thinking about all that had happened the last few days, wondering what else was going to happen.
 
The smells of breakfast drew us in as nothing else would have: French toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, biscuits drenched in butter and honey, hot tea and coffee, the smells were enough to make me drool in anticipation. We all filled our plates like we were trying out for the local rugby team, and started eating with enthusiasm.
 
Laura and Dr. John joined us half way through; evidently they had both eaten earlier and were just returning from an early morning walk around the gardens. Caitlin almost made me spew coffee through my nose by leaning into me, whispering, “They just wanted a little privacy to make out.”
 
“You know it, kid,” Laura replied with a wink, handing Dr. John a mug of coffee before sitting down beside him, sipping her own mug thoughtfully.
 
“I’ve got a couple of projects for you, Gracie. You don’t have to start on them today, but you might want to start thinking about them.” And as she said this, she laid on the table a bag of rocks and a deck of cards. “I think we might start with these. The rocks are rune stones, or will be when you’re done. You can buy rune stones, but they work better when they are made by the person who is going use them. And this is a deck of Tarot cards, this deck is mine, but back at the house I left a package in your room of heavy paper cut to size so you can make a deck of your own, I want you to research some of the various decks available and then design your own. I don’t think that divination per se is one of your talents; I do think that these will make excellent meditation tools for you. Even back in college you seemed to be able to make intuitive leaps that followed you own internal logic, and I think these will help you.”
 
“Design my own deck? How?”
 
“There are four suites in the minor arcane and then the major cards. Take a look at how the other decks use different symbolism, and find a symbolism that is meaningful to you.” And she tossed the deck to me, setting off a chain of events that would change all our lives.
 
I caught the deck before it hit the table, and felt a small jab as something sticking out from the box pierced the tip of my ring finger. Opening the box, I pulled a small thin needle from the business end of the box. For some reason, it reminded me of a spindle. My brain was working as fast as it could, but my thoughts were coming very slowly and is if from a great distance. My stream of consciousness had become a string of random non sequiturs.
 
A strange lassitude washed over me. I watched silently idly as three drops of blood dripped from my finger to the table top. Those three innocent drops triggered the curse that had been sprung the night before, when Bronwyn had said those fateful words.
 
The world was suddenly out of focus, like my contacts had fallen out. And though I could tell that they were shouting at me, I couldn’t hear the words and then I couldn’t hear their voices. The most frightening thing of all was that through it all, Owen was sitting beside me looking so sad.
 
“It’s called the Sleeping Beauty curse,” he explained, and somehow I knew that they could hear him as well. “It’s a nasty piece of work. It doesn’t put everyone in the house to sleep for a hundred years. What it does is take the focus of the curse, in this case Gracie, and make it physically impossible for those people closest to her when the curse is triggered to communicate with her. The shielding being erected around her is so complete that you won’t be able to hear her or see her or speak to her.”
 
“How do we break the curse?” Caitlin asked, fighting back tears.
 
“I don’t know,” He admitted.
 
Looking over at Caitlin, it was suddenly too much and I had to try and reach her. Pressing against the shield, I reached out and hugged her for all I was worth, stretching until I could rest my forehead against hers. The pain that ran through my head was worse than anything I’d ever felt before, but I ignored it as long as I could to hold onto Caitlin and let her know that I loved her and that I would find a way to break this curse.
 
“Is this harming Gracie?” Laura asked, looking at me shocked, “She’s bleeding!” Sitting back, I wiped my face with my napkin to find that my nose was bleeding and I was somehow crying blood.
 
“Only because she was fighting the shield, if she lets it surround her it won’t damage her. She’s lucky, she may be isolated but at least this curse does little actual physical damage: there are others that can do a great deal of harm.”
 
“Based on the name of this curse, I can think of several off hand,” Laura began, and afraid she’d name them and give the curse any ideas, or trigger any other curse already laid, I stopped her speech laying my fingers across her lips. She looked up at me, staring into my eyes and saw the fear and determination in them, the fear winning as I lost the ability to see them. Wanting to reach me, Laura took her hand in mine, rested her cheek in my hand and slowly kissed my palm until I could no longer feel her lips caress my skin.
 
Knowing what I know now, I feel that the eyes I should have been staring into as the world changed before me were not Laura’s but Bronwyn’s. But how often do you know in advance that was the last time you’d see someone this side of death?
 
“What do I do now?” I asked the empty room, not expecting a reply.
 
“We’re going back to Dr. John’s and Laura’s house.” Owen answered calmly. “The curse shouldn’t affect anyone we meet there, so we should be safe. I convinced Caitlin to stay here, though she wasn’t happy about it. Dr. John and Laura are going to help us research how to break the spell, and we can work on it in the city. And Bronwyn and Brychan are not without resources. They promised to help as well.”
 
“We?” That word gave me more hope than any two letters have the right to, and I was probably an idiot for feeling so hopeful, but I did so there we were.
 
“You don’t think I’d leave you to face this alone, did you?” Owen smiled sadly, “That would be a miserly thank you for saving my life, don’t you think?”
 
“When should we leave?” Now that I had a plan, even if it did amount to getting the hell out of dodge, I was anxious to get going. Especially since everyone that I loved in London was lost to me.
 
“I’d like to take a quickie shower and borrow some of Caerwyn’s things and then I’ll be ready.” Owen’s serious, sad eyes grounded me somehow, made me able to think and not fall apart.
 
Not wanting to be alone, I followed Owen back upstairs and into Caerwyn and Caitlin’s suite of rooms. The room that had been their playroom was set up as part exercise room and part study: half was filled with mats for Tai Chi and Yoga and the other had two desks, each with its own laptop and rows of shelves with a variety of books. Browsing their books, I was amazed at the breath and depth of their reading material, in several different languages: English, Irish, Welsh, French, German, Finnish, and even Latin and Greek. Pulling several books from the shelves, I added them to the growing pile of things I was taking back with me, made myself comfortable and started to read while I waited for Owen.
 
I suspected that his shower had more of the quickie about it than quickie shower, but who was I to argue when he was leaving this comfortable place, and the charming young man he’d just met, to go with me and help me face the difficult path before me.
 
“I’ll have to do some shopping when we get into the city, but this should hold me for a while.” Owen’s voice startled me; I had felt like I was waiting in an empty house, to think otherwise would have had me crying my heart out.
 
“Caitlin has set up an email account for you. She and Caerwyn have their own web page, their own blogs, and everything. She has even set up an email for herself that only you’ll have the address for, so that the only emails she’ll get on it will be from you. The addresses are sweet enough to choke a cat, but they are certainly hard to forget.” He smiled at that, looking better than he had even at breakfast. Being in love can do that for you, I guess. “Yours is Caitlinsgracie@yaddayadda.net, and that’s the actual address, I’m not kidding. Only those two would register for such a domain name. Hers is the opposite, so you two can get around the curse that way, we think.”
 
“I hope it works. Thank you, Owen. I don’t know if I could do this by myself.”
 
“I’m sure you could," he said, trying to reassure me. "I’m just here to make it a little easier if I can.” He nodded at the desks that were sitting back to back. “The laptop in the case is for you. Dr. John and Laura knew you had to leave your computer back in the States, so they got you one. It was supposed to be your birthday present, and they’d left it here so you wouldn’t accidentally find it while taking care of the house, but they figured you need it now.”
 
“I wish I could thank them. I’d also like to tell Caitlin and Caerwyn that I’m borrowing some of their books.”
 
“Write a note, they should be able to read it, at least once we’ve left the house.” Owen was full of good ideas, which meant at least one of us was able to think. “There are some books in Bronwyn and Brychan’s library that might help you with the projects that Laura has set for you. Dr. John left them stacked on the desk. We can grab those on the way out.” He handed me a good sized backpack, saying, “We’ll have to walk to the bus stop and then home from the tube station, these will make carrying our things easier.”
 
Splitting up the books into both bags, we were quickly packed and ready to leave when a small bundle of fur threw herself at me. “Angharad?” I asked as she climbed up my jacket and pressed her small body to me, wrapping her paws around my neck. I didn’t even mind that she had cut off the blood flow to my brain, I was so happy to see her.
 
And then four more cats emerged from the fog, two mid-sized cats, one of them my own Shadow and the other a spotted calico that must have been Caerwyn, and two larger cats: Bronwyn, who did indeed have a large white spot on her breast as her name suggested, and Brychan, who like his name, was speckled, or rather spotted. Sitting down on the rush mat in their entry I opened my arms and hugged them all, feeling the soft fur on Brychan’s neck as Bronwyn and Caitlin licked the tears from my cheeks.
 
And then I did the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. I said goodbye to this beautiful family, and left their house which now felt like home. Turning my back, so they wouldn’t see me crying, I shouldered my pack and walked down the drive for the road into town and the bus stop that would lead me back into London. Neither of us spoke as we left the farm for an uncertain future, but then again there was nothing to say.
 
“What’s in the bags?” See, I found something to say after all. Walking down the street, I had suddenly realized that Owen was carrying two large canvas grocery bags. I reached out to take one, and he handed me what I somehow knew was the lighter of the two.
 
“This,” he raised his bag, “is mum’s two-alarm chili, mum’s chicken soup, and last but not least mum’s comfort casserole. It’s kind of like lasagna, only with skinny noodles and with sour cream and cheddar cheese instead of mozzarella. It must be good; Bronwyn had to fight off the whole crew when she packed our bag, including Brychan.”
 
“What’s in my bag?” I asked, smelling the aroma of fresh baked goods.
 
“Da’s chocolate chip butterscotch brownies, Da’s Banana Bread, and two loaves of Da’s whole wheat bread. They really do love you, you know?” He looked at me seriously. “This curse has them all shaken, but don’t ever think that they’re going to just forget you and leave you like this.”
 
“I know.” I smiled wistfully, sighing as I wished on a field of clover. Somewhere in that whole field, there must have been at least one four leaf, don’t you think? “I feel like I’ve known them my whole life.” I paused for thought, trying to ask my next question without insulting the only person I could talk to. I shouldn’t have bothered.
 
“I don’t know why I wasn’t affected,” he answered, laughing at the look of utter disgust that I must have worn. “Don’t worry, I’m not reading your thoughts. I don’t have to; just read your expressions as they show up on your face. I’d love to play poker with you; I doubt you could bluff your way out of a canvas sack.”
 
“I’ll have you know, my inability to play poker has nothing whatsoever to do with my inability to bluff but my inability to give a dam about a card game. I usually stop paying attention somewhere between ‘hit me’ and ‘go fish’.”
 
We were quiet the rest of the trip to Dr. John and Laura’s house, but it was a comfortable silence. I tried to think of other things, working on the garden for Laura, working on the projects she had assigned me, how I was going to fall asleep without Caitlin beside me, anything but the reason that she wasn’t here with me now.
 
Owen, from the look on his face, was thinking about Caerwyn. He had that look, part wonder, part joy, that said that he had felt Caerwyn’s growing affection for him and was amazed by it: like a child who had never had a Christmas suddenly getting everything he’d ever wanted.
 
“You can go back, if you want,” I offered, hoping he’d refuse but wanting to give him the option anyway. “I know what it feels like to miss someone that much.”
 
“Thank you, but I kind of have to stay in the city tonight anyway.” He blushed shyly; very happy about something as he explained. “I’ve got to go to work. I’m starting a new job tomorrow, one that Brychan helped me get, in fact. It would take too long for me to get there from the farm in the morning.”
 
“Cool, where’s the new job?”
 
“The Bell and Candle Bookshop, over on…” But I knew this one.
 
“On Cloister Mews, off Leicester Square. Laura took me there. That is the coolest bookshop. I could do some serious buying in there.”
 
“Yeah, I’ve been there a few times when I managed to get away from the hounds, and the owners are both really cool ladies. Would you like to meet them? They might even know how to get us out of our predicament.”
 
“Thanks that would be great.” And for some reason, I felt hopeful. I even managed that bloody lock on the first try.
 
I managed to hold onto that hopeful feeling as we unpacked our goodies, took our afternoon tea out into the garden, through dinner, and up until the time to go upstairs to bed. Owen was going to stay on the top floor with me. Sex was the last thing on my mind, and I really and truly did not want to spend the night alone with my doubts and fears and the nightmares that I knew would come and would be as horrible as they possibly could.
Standing at the bottom of the stairs, I looked at Owen, who looked back at me looking as lost as I felt. Taking a deep breath, I held my hand out to him and taking his hand, slowly climbed past Dr. John and Laura’s floor, past their guest rooms which neither of us felt like disturbing, up to the top floor and my room.
 
Opening the door, I let him go in before me. He looked around, a smile growing on his face, and I shared his happiness. They had done this room for me, and even with them no longer here, I felt it. They cared for me and wanted me to be happy. They had made a home here for me, for as long as I wanted it.
 
Profoundly touched, I turned to look out the window, and froze. Sitting on the ledge, plastered against the closed window, sat two cats: huddled together to stay warm looking up at the rain as if it were a personal insult.
“What are you doing here?” I cried, running to the window and pulling them through the narrow space I could make without endangering either of them.
 
Gathering Shadow and her twin Smoky (so named, according to Bronwyn, for his childhood penchant for rolling in the fireplace ashes, sometimes without checking to make sure they were cold), I held them both in my arms, carrying them both to the bed and wrapping them in the blanket I kept folded at the foot. Warming them up I realized that Smoky was wearing a collar, something I’d never seen Shadow do.
 
Looking closer I realized it was a piece of paper, and that they must have written us a note. Carefully unfolding it, I read it aloud to Owen:
 
Dear Gracie and Owen,
I know we agreed to stay away until we find a way to break the curse, but being apart from you made Caitlin feel like pulled taffy. Saying good bye to you both did let us find one thing out. Seeing you as cats was no problem, but once with you none of us could shift back to human, even mum and da. I guess whoever cursed you didn’t know about us. Something to think about, maybe?
Anyway, I promised to keep an eye on Caitlin and keep her safe, and it felt wrong to be away from you, so here we are. Maybe we can weaken the curse enough that I can shift with you there, Gracie. We just wanted you both to let you know that we love you and that you’re not alone. Caerwyn

While I was reading, Owen had joined me on the bed and was holding Smoky like he was the last real thing in the world. Shadow was in my arms, plastered to me like she had Velcro paws, and I held her listening to her purr and felt that maybe there was hope, and thinking so wasn’t a fool’s dream. We slept that night, Owen and I, side by side, each of us with our cat curled up against our legs.
 
The dreams didn’t start until early morning, but they made up for it by being as bad as they’d ever been. I was struggling to wake up when I felt the familiar form spooning me from behind. I stopped struggling as I felt Caitlin’s arms wrap around me, holding me. Owen was pressed against me, and very happy to be there, his hips rocking in a rhythm as old as love.
 
Keeping my eyes closed, and fighting off waking as long as I could, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders to stroke the hair of the sweet boy who was loving him. I struggled to keep my eyes closed, knowing somehow that opening them would spring the trap that separated me from them, but my eyes were pulled open when I felt Owen shudder in pleasure.
 
For a split second, I saw.
 
And my morning was graced by the memory of blue eyes seeing me before the fog descended.
 

“Gracie? You ready to go?” Owen called from the stairs; I had come downstairs to fix breakfast, and to give Caitlin a chance to shift out of her kitty form. I had made breakfast for all four of us, knowing that Caitlin and Caerwyn wouldn’t be able to eat until we left. Or rather, until I left.
 
“I’m ready, but you haven’t eaten breakfast. Aren’t you hungry?”
 
“Starved,” he agreed. Walking over to where I had laid out breakfast, he grabbed a couple of waffles and topped one with a spoonful of scrambled eggs, a couple of strips of bacon, and a handful of shredded cheddar cheese, before placing the other waffle on top and making a sandwich of the whole thing. “Perfect, I can eat this while we walk to work. Shall we?” And leaving by the dining room door, which led out into the small stair well where the garbage cans were kept, headed upstairs to street level and off for a day in the city.
 
The Bell and Candle Bookshop was located in Cloister Mews, one of the many alleys off the main roads that led to buildings that used to house the stables for the buildings that fronted the road. The alley was short and well kept, and the square doubled as the Bookshop’s garden, with several arrangements of planters and window boxes and several benches and comfortable chairs scattered around for their customers to sit and enjoy the rare sunny day.
 
The owners, Ellen Barnes and Cordelia Patterson, were both in their early thirties, had both been librarians in their past lives, and were partners in every sense of the word. Brychan had told Owen of a rumor that had floated around the university where they both used to work, and in fact where they had met, of some trouble they’d had with a group of rather homophobic grad students. Somehow Ellen had lost their leader’s dissertation, for what turned out to be the longest forty-eight hours in his young life. He had eventually sworn off women entirely and entered a monastery, not because he felt he hadn’t deserved Ellen’s treatment of him, but rather from the growing fear that maybe he had.
 
Ellen and Cordelia were both young and pretty with quick minds and ready wits, and they greeted us kindly and listened intently as Owen and I told them our tale.
 
“And you have no idea who it is who would want to curse you?” Ellen looked at me, and the intelligence shining in those myopic brown eyes was impressive enough to make me think she might be able to help.
 
“No, nor do I know who would want to set those…hounds on me,” I said, shuddering at the memory. “And I still can’t explain why Owen wasn’t affected by the curse.”
 
“Oh, that I think I can explain,” Cordelia interrupted looking up from cleaning her reading glasses, which seemed to be her nervous habit. “Of course as with every explanation of magic, it will only raise more questions. But here it is: the Sleeping Beauty Curse actually works using your own magical defenses against you. It takes the shields you set up around yourself and makes them into an impenetrable barrier, and the reason that Owen was unaffected was that he was inside the walls when you built them.”
 
“But I haven’t built any shields while I’ve been here, I’m not even sure I know how.” Confusion was getting the better of me, not a pretty sight.
 
“Oh, I don’t mean now,” Cordelia however seemed immune to my confusion and frustration, as she calmly explained. “I mean originally. And most of your shields were probably put up as a reaction to the world around you. If that’s the case, he’s most likely been there since the beginning.”
 
“How so?” Huh? That was news to me. Pull out the pen and paper and actually write Dee, news.
 
“I’m guessing that you both knew each other when you were young: very young, in fact.” She looked at me intently, eager to discuss magic and her many theories and yet I never got the feeling that theory got in the way of her remembering this was my life we were dissecting. “Since the curse is affecting every shield you’ve ever built for yourself, right down to that very first, I’d say you would almost have had to have known each other as babies.”
 
“So that’s why I trust him so easily, despite what he was doing when we met? I mean, even if I don’t blame him, it doesn’t explain why I trust him so readily.”
 
“Oh no, I’d have to say there’s more to it than that. I’ve known my brother since we were babies, and even then I wouldn’t have believed him if he said the sky was blue.”
 
“Sweetie, you grew up in Seattle.” Ellen commented, and I think she realized that I was rapidly reaching the point where it was just too much information and decided to inject a little humor into the dialogue. “The sky there is rarely anything but gray: slate gray, gunmetal gray, foggy gray.”
 
“So how do we break the curse? Is there a way?”
 
“Of course there’s a way.” Cordelia assured us. “It’s right there in the fairy tale.”
 
“What? True love’s first kiss?” I’m afraid my skepticism was showing, as well as my loneliness and my frustration. “Then I’m afraid we’re screwed. Caitlin and I have already engaged in some pretty serious lip lock, and it didn’t seem to have protected us any. Besides, how are we supposed to kiss when I can’t see her, or touch her, and she can’t see or touch me?”
 
“You’ll just have to find a way to get around the curse somehow. I’m sure you can think up something, you are all intelligent, resourceful, imaginative people.”
 
“And we’ll help you anyway we can,” Ellen offered. “You said Laura has you designing your own set of rune stones as well as your own tarot cards. Do you need any books on Tarot or runes? We have quite a selection of decks of Tarot, as well as an assortment of books on them, and I’d be willing to lend them to you.”
 
“You do? That would be a big help.” I smiled in relief; my budget was not going to stretch enough to buy as many books as I was beginning to realize these projects might need. “My book budget is not infinite.”
 
“I might be able to help with that,” Cordelia replied, shuffling the papers on her desk, obviously looking for something. “You’re an Earth witch, I presume?” I nodded, unsure of where this was going. “And you’re taking care of John and Laura’s garden, so I presume that you’re thumb is mildly green? How are you on garden design?”
 
“I designed the garden at my sisters’ house and at the house the twins and I shared, and I’ve begun to design knot gardens for friends. I even designed John and Laura’s garden for their house back in the States.”
 
“How would you like to make a little extra money and help out your fellow practitioners at the same time? I know quite a few witches who need to grow their own supplies but don’t know the first thing about setting up their own gardens.”
 
“Sure, it might even be fun, but I’d have to have time to work on my projects for Laura and to figure out how to break the curse.”
 
“I don’t think that will be a problem, they just need you to plan the garden tell them what they would need, and show them how to take care of it. Once they’re set up, they can take care of their own gardens.”
 
“If you’re willing to help with gardens, I know someone who really needs some help, and she lives quite near you.” Ellen smiled in relief, perhaps that she could help out two friends at once. “In fact, she’s your next door neighbor.”
 
“To the left or the right?”
 
“The left. But as you start working on John and Laura’s garden and helping Miriam with hers, you’ll probably see the other people on your block spending more time in their own gardens. This summer, your neighbors will find their gardens, for some reason, look the best they have ever looked. And if they grow vegetables, their plants will produce more than they know what to do with.”
 
“Thank you both. I’ll stop off this afternoon and offer to help with her garden. It will give me something to think about.” Some people are just meant to be a part of your life, and I was about to meet an important one.
 
--Chapter 5--
 
 
 
 
The walk back to Dr. John and Laura’s was invigorating on that bright, brisk January day, and as Miriam was not home when I checked, I decided to spend my morning working in Laura’s garden. There wasn’t much actual work that could be done with so much time left until spring, but the bright sunny day gave me the chance to really take a look at the garden, check her tools, and to start making plans for later in the season. Tucked away in the back of the garden was a small tool shed with a small greenhouse attached.
“Oh, hullo.” I had just closed up the greenhouse when I heard the voice come from over the wall, “I say. You must be the girl that Laura was telling me about. Come from the States to take care of her garden?” Looking over the wall that divided the two gardens, I met Miriam for the first time.
 
Miriam was not much older than me, and not much taller than me, but she was long and thin, and her voice was likewise soft and thin.
 
“Yes, my name is Grace. Would you happen to be Miriam? Ellen and Cordelia over at the Bell and Candle Bookshop told me that you were looking for some help with your garden.”
 
“They did? You could help me? I’ve had no luck with this garden whatsoever. Sometimes I think I’ve got a black thumb.” The eyes that smiled over at mine were a bright blue green like the ocean surrounded by thick black lashes that had never been touched by mascara.
 
“I’d be glad to help,” I assured her as she smiled in relief, “I can probably design something that is very low maintenance. That way you don’t have to spend all of your free time out here working in the garden, you can actually spend time out here enjoying it.” “That would be excellent.” She hesitated, and then continued shyly, “Would you like to see the garden? I must confess that there’s not much to see, and what is here was not put here by me.”
 
“Well, in that case now would be the time to remove any plants that you don’t like, or move other plants to new locations. Start fresh and really make it your own.”
 
“We could do that? I’d feel so guilty about taking them out; I was told that some of them are quite valuable.” Relief and guilt were battling for control over her appreciation of her own garden, and I knew just how to tip the scales.
 
“Do you know the gardener’s definition of a weed?” I smiled as I asked her. This was something that Cormac had taught me, and it had helped me in every garden that I’d ever worked on. It was the gardener’s permission to let go of something when it no longer worked. Sometimes we all needed that permission.
 
“I’m sure it’s something long and scientific.” She answered hesitantly.
 
“A weed is any plant in a place where it is not wanted,” I answered emphatically. “That’s it. If you don’t want the plant, it is a weed. If you want the plant, but not where it is, you move it and it is no longer a weed.”
 
“Wow!” she laughed, relief winning over guilt. “That is almost elegant in its simplicity.”
 
“The Tao of Gardening,” I laughed, “Let’s take a look at your garden, I can at least get a feel for the space.” And climbing carefully over the brick wall that separated the two open spaces, I took a closer look at the garden and a more subtle look at the gardener.
 
Her townhouse was wider that Dr. John and Laura’s, so her garden was more of a square than theirs. The area closest to the house was paved, providing a roof for the cold storage room off the kitchen, as well as giving the kitchen an exposed wall for its own windows. There were few trees, and the grass was brown, but it was a flat area with good drainage and healthy soil, so whatever we decided to do, the plants should do well.
 
“Get some gardening magazines, look at the pictures and if you see something that speaks to you, something you really like, tear the picture out and save them in a folder. Remember, this is a small space, as far as gardens go, so think intimate spaces. I’ll look through what you find and see what I can do. How’s that?”
 
“That would be great,” she smiled, and I got the feeling that in general she wasn’t very comfortable around many people. With luck, I would turn out to be someone she could relax with, I got the feeling she needed that. “How much do I owe you?”
 
“Don’t worry about money yet,” I said with a smile to let her know I wasn’t insulted. And I wasn’t, I knew what it was like to have to budget carefully, and she probably didn’t want to get in over her head. “Let’s see what kind of plans we come up with before we start talking numbers. And then, closer to spring we can go to my friend Bronwyn’s nursery to look at her plants. I’m sure she’d give us the family discount.”
 
“Thank you. That would help.”
 
“Why don’t I do the same thing and we can get together in a couple days and compare pictures. I’ll even start looking at garden architecture, maybe a pergola or a gazebo?”
 
“I look forward to seeing what you find,” she said, watching as I climbed carefully back over the wall. “So…the day after tomorrow? Would you like to come for lunch?” I nodded my agreement, watching as she turned and walked back into her house, head bowed in thought.
 
I was still thinking about gardens when Owen came home from work, thinking about them as we made dinner, ate, and washed the dishes. I managed to answer his questions, but can’t remember what they were. For some reason, gardening was something I had to think about. But it wasn’t until Owen offered to finish the dishes if I wanted to go soak in the tub that I realized why I was thinking so hard about gardening.
 
If I was thinking about gardening, I wasn’t thinking about Caitlin, and her family. We’d made a meal of Bronwyn’s chili and Brychan’s bread, and I found myself unable to even think about them, and not because the thought of never seeing any of them again was so very painful. Sitting in a tub of hot water, thinking over my day I realized that I’d just assumed that I would be able to see Bronwyn by springtime. I had no idea yet how to break the curse, and the people most likely to help were those very people most affected. The need to see Bronwyn, and talk to her, was overwhelming. Her absence was a great a pain as Caitlin’s, and as a wave of loneliness washed over me, I broke down and sobbed.
 
I was still sobbing when Owen’s strong arms wrapped me in their warm embrace, nudging me forward in the tub so he could climb in behind me, holding me as I cried my heart out on his chest. I cried ‘til my nose ran and I gave myself the hiccups. But even a broken heart must eventually run out of tears, and eventually I was able to wipe my face and blow my nose on the toilet paper he handed me.
 
“Better?” he asked, brushing the hair out of my eyes, and smiling sadly down at me. He too had been affected by my curse, and he had done so with a much more even temperament than I had. “I brought us mugs of tea, if you’ll sit up a bit, I can even reach them.” And soon we were both sitting back in the tub, quietly sipping our tea and it was only later that I thought to wonder at how comfortable it was to be with him. It didn’t even bother me that neither of us had any clothes on.
 
But that was later, sitting in the tub leaning against Owen, I listened as he talked. “I saw Caerwyn this afternoon. He came by the shop to see me and to let us know what’s been going on at the farm.” The blush that spread across his face let me know that Caerwyn had gone to the shop for more than mere passing along messages. But evidently he actually had messages for me. “He also had a message for you from Caitlin. She said to tell you that email doesn’t answer itself young lady.”
 
“Oops. I haven’t even opened my laptop to see if it works. I’ll do that when we get out of the tub.” I started to sit up, only to have Owen pull me back against his chest.
 
“I didn’t mean you had to get up this minute,” he laughed, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and holding me close. “I just meant when you were ready to get up.” And like the light bulb turning on I had a moment of revelation, I knew that he too was feeling the absence of those we loved. He needed to feel loved and, in so many ways, afternoon quickies couldn’t help. Physical closeness is more than just sex, and this curse had isolated us both emotionally and physically.
 
I missed Caitlin and Laura, and Cormac and Dee at home, and now Bronwyn and Angharad, because they were the people in my life who touched me. With them beyond my reach, and without Owen here, I would have gone days without feeling the touch of another’s hands, and we were not designed to be that isolated. Babies have even died if they were not held and cuddled enough. Being that alone strains our souls.
 
As I thought about what Ellen had said about the curse, I thought of something else, these people that I missed so much were not only the people in my life who touched me, who I let into my personal space, they were also the people in my life who I would have let inside my shields, had I known I had shields. The isolation was not only emotional and physical, but if Ellen was right, it was psychically isolating as well.
 
With this thought, I sat back and wrapped my arms around Owen’s chest and let myself enjoy the feeling of holding him. Owen stiffened for a moment, perhaps thinking something was wrong, and then slowly allowed himself to likewise relax and just enjoy the feeling of being held.
 
It turned out to be much later that I got out of the tub to check my email. Pulling the new laptop from its carrying case, I found it had so many new bells and whistles, not to mention software, that it totally satisfied my inner geek. My outer geek felt like gloating. Booting it up took no time, and I was soon pulling up their web page and logging into my very own email account. I had 27 emails; all but five of them were from Caitlin. Twenty six of them were variations of where are you and answer your email. The first was the one that I replied to. It said:
 
To: Caitlinsgracie@yaddayadda.net
From: Graciescaitlin@yaddayadda.net
Subject: Hey!
Hey Gracie, I hear you’ve been hanging out at Bell and Candle with Owen. I am sooo jealous, I love that place. Aren’t Ellen and Cordelia two of the neatest people you’ve ever met? Have you made your rune stones yet? How are the Tarot cards coming, any design plans? Laura wanted me to pass along a message, but it was getting rather complicated so she’s going to send one of her own.
 
I’m going to be serious for a moment. I’m glad that Owen is there with you, I’d hate to think of you having to go through this alone. I know this is going to be hard for you, but remember you are not alone; there is someone else who is going through a similar loss, one he volunteered for. Give it a thought and know that I love you. Your Caitlin

The email from Laura was, as Caitlin had hinted, rather complicated, being mostly directions. It read:
 
To Caitlinsgracie@yaddayadda.net
From: Lauralongstory@yaddayadda.net
Subject: Runes, writing, and Reading
Hey Gracie, I hope you’ve finished your rune stones. I want you to take the bag you’ve put them in, reach in and pull out three stones, put them face down. This is called a Nornic Oracle: the first stone is your past, the second your present, and the third is your future. Look these stones up in the books you’ve surely gathered by now to see what they each mean. Email me when you’re done and let me know what you drew and your conclusions (don’t worry; I’m not grading you on this. We’d just like to know). John and I are working on helping you find a way to break the curse, and we won’t stop until we’re successful. Keep your hope up. Love, Laura
 
P.S. If you haven’t had time to carve your own rune stones, look in the top drawer in your bedside table. This may help. But I still expect you to carve you own.

Have I mentioned how well she knows me? As soon as I read the email to Owen, he walked over to my bedside table, opened the drawer, and pulled out a bag of rune stones. Opening the bag, I gently poured them out on the bed, letting each stone slide through my fingers. Once I got a feel for them, I scooped them all up and put them back in the bag. Sticking my hand in the bag, I slid my fingers through the bag, waiting until I felt a difference in the stones. One by one I drew out my three stones and place them face down on the comforter.
 
“The first stone?” Owen asked. He was going to write down which stones I drew and take notes for me as I read their meanings.
 
“The first is Ansuz, which means advice, communication, contemplation, inspiration, authority, tradition, and blessing. It also says that it can mean initiation or divine inspiration.”
 
“Well, I suppose I can see the initiation.” Owen agreed. “I just wish we could have skipped the hazing.”
 
“The second, my present, is Othila. And that means…”
 
“Don’t tell me. Othila represents homeland, ancestral property, family home, or inheritance.”
 
“Yup, but its esoteric meaning is, according to this book, ancestor spirits, sacred enclosure, or universal truth. And the last is Dagaz: security, certainty, clarity, or dramatic change, but it can also mean higher level of consciousness or path of destiny.”
 
“And somehow these are supposed to help us break the curse?”
 
“Maybe thinking about them will. Of course, if I weren’t so tired that I was falling asleep where I sat, I’d be able to think about them. Let’s pull a Scarlett and think about them tomorrow.”
 
“Pull a Scarlett?”
 
“You know, Scarlett O’Hara? Gone with the Wind? I’ll think about it tomorrow? After all…tomorrow is another day?”
 
“I know the reference, I’d just never heard anyone say that, pull a Scarlett. Why don’t you read the rest of your email, while I get ready for bed, and then you can have the bathroom for your own ablutions?”
 
“Oooh, I love a man with a great, big…vocabulary.” I have to admit, part of the fun of picking on Owen was watching him blush. And he was practically glow-in-the-dark as he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth.
 
The rest of my emails were messages of reassurance and comfort from Caerwyn, Bronwyn, and surprisingly from Angharad, who had sent me a picture she had drawn of Caitlin and me together again after we broke the curse. Replying to my messages took a little while and I was more than ready to go to bed when Owen emerged from the bathroom. My last thought before I fell asleep was to be thankful that so many people wanted to help me.
 
I don’t know what woke me, but I was immensely grateful as it chased the nightmares away before they could get their hooks in me. As I lay in bed saying a silent thank you to whatever or whoever had saved me from the nightly terrors that sleep brought, I listened to the sounds coming in the open windows, and other sounds coming from much closer. It sounded as if someone were keening.
 
Looking up, I caught Owen unawares. And I had never seen such despair on anyone’s face as I did his that night. He looked as if he had lost his reason for hope, his reason to get up in the morning, and his hope that it would ever change for the better, all in one fell swoop.
 
The truly amazing thing was that as overwhelmingly sad as Owen was, his lower half was happy to be there, pushing itself eagerly against my stomach. Remembering my bath time revelation, I scooted closer, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and resting his head against my breast (which had the added benefit of my not seeing the sadness in his eyes- he seemed so lost). That brought us closer together, and made his happy lower half start pushing against a different part of me. And sliding my leg over his, I shifted my hips, and let him in.
 
What can I say? It felt right; it felt like love, it felt like home. There were no fireworks, no great, sweaty passion, in fact when we both came we were oddly quiet, but it was a peaceful quiet. And when we were done, I’m not ashamed to say it, I fell asleep: with him still inside me.

 
I woke up later that morning with him still inside me (or maybe once more inside me, I’m not sure which) and enjoying his morning state of happiness. This time when we made love, we pulled out all of the sparklers and whiz bangs, the whole fireworks show, in fact everything short of the 1812 Overture or the Souza march.
 
The morning shower was long and leisurely, as I washed him and he washed me, and we had our first quickie in the shower. I made him late for work, but we made up for it by bringing everyone coffee and muffins from the corner bakery.
 
“Is that Ethiopian?” Ellen asked, looking up from the table where she and Cordelia were counting the money from the day before. “You brought us the good stuff. You should make him late for work more often.”
 
“Bite your tongue, we just got fifteen boxes of books that need to be put out, and neither of us will have the time to do it. We’ve got to get the paperwork done and to the bookkeeper by this evening.”
 
“I’ll help.” I offered, feeling guilty that I’d stolen their help. Besides they were letting me use their books whenever I needed them, and this would let me see if any of the new books would be helpful, and helping them out in exchange was the least I could do.
 
“You don’t mind?” Ellen looked up hopefully. “That would be great; this paperwork really needs to get done today.”
 
“No problem,” I assured them. “I can even go and pick up lunch for us, if you’d like.”
 
“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
 
The morning was spent checking the shipments against the invoices, entering the new books into their inventory, and finding room for them on the shelves. It turned out I didn’t have to go out and pick up lunch after all, Ellen and Cordelia called a friend of theirs who ran a lunch counter and they brought over enough soup and sandwiches to feed a small army.
 
“How’d your first rune reading go,” Ellen asked, sitting down away from their never-ending paperwork and giving a deep sigh of relief. “Have you emailed Laura with your results yet?” Putting my backpack down next to her, I went to fix my own lunch.
 
“Yes, I emailed her last night.” The soup was seafood chowder and smelled good enough to make my mouth water. Filling my bowl and grabbing a sandwich and a drink, I joined Ellen at the only table clear of books, sitting down beside her. “The three stones were Ansuz, Othila, and Dagaz: in that order.”
 
“Ansuz, divine inspiration…”
 
“I am the fire in the brain.” It took me a while to respond, and I would like to say that I was deep in thought; the truth of the matter was that I was deep in chowder and sourdough rolls. “I am the meaning of the poem.” I don’t know why I thought of that poem but it seemed appropriate.
 
“What is that from? It sounds familiar somehow.” Cordelia asked as she joined us with her own soup and sandwich, still working on the coffee from the morning.
 
“It’s from the Song of Amergin. It’s thought to be the first poem written in Ireland, in Irish.” Finishing the soup, I moved onto the sandwich, which turned out to be turkey and smoked Gouda on a grilled panini.
 
“Fitting.” Ellen smiled, and then continued. “Othila, an inheritance that is not necessarily material, a return that is not a regression…” I had another pause while I finished my sandwich and washed it down with the last of my soda.
 
“And the end of all our exploring/…to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.” Again, I don’t know what prompted me to say that, but it seemed to fit.
 
Sitting in the front of the bookshop, I watched the sunlight coming through the windows and casting its glow over our little group. Opening my pack, I followed my inner prompting to take out my pad and pencil and begin sketching the people around me. Ellen was the person my attention kept returning to, so I started with her.
 
“That’s easy,” Owen laughed. “T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding. I’m rather partial to the line ‘last year’s words belong to last year’s language/ and next year’s words await another voice.” With a quick stroke of my pencil, I caught the curve of her cheek, the wave in her hair, and the intelligence shining through the amused sparkle in her gray green eyes as she watched me. It was most likely the best sketch of a person I’d ever done. If I do say so myself.
 
“Which brings us to Dagaz: endings and beginnings, old mysteries explained, the healing light of the sun, and awaiting a new day.”
 
“And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow.
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of linnet’s wings.”
 
We looked at him stunned, not just because he was the one to come up with the appropriate poem, but when he was reciting those lines his voice had changed, softened somehow, sounding wistful, and yet also deepened, giving us a glimpse of the man he would become.
 
“What?” He looked at me questioningly, unaware of our thoughts. “You’re not the only one who can quote Yeats.”
 
“No, and I’m inclined to think that you’re the only one here who could do him justice. This is all very well and good, but I can’t see how it brings us closer to breaking the bloody curse.”
 
“Actually, it does,” Cordelia once again brought a new perspective, and a valuable insight. “I’m not sure what you should do; I’m not a witch and know very little about that side of things. But I think that, if you can wait, I know when and where you should attempt to break it.”
 
“Really? When? Where?” It was more than we’d had, and it would give us a place to start.
 
“February second: which, according to the almanac, happens to be the next full moon.”
 
“Groundhog Day?” Color me skeptical, but somehow I didn’t think knowing how many more weeks of winter we had in store would help.
 
“It’s is also called Imbolc, silly, and it’s an important day in the pagan calendar, also the Wiccan calendar. As for where, it needs to be out in the open, under the light of the full moon and then under the first light of the new day. It should be somewhere you would feel comfortable…”
 
“And I’m guessing somewhere we won’t go around flashing the neighbors?” Owen looked over at me with a shy grin. “Although I don’t think all of the neighbors would mind. Perhaps I should ask Bronwyn if we could borrow her walled garden.”
 
“I’ll do it; I’ve got to email her anyway.” I decided, gathering my supplies and stood up facing our little group. “I’ve got to go back to the house, and run some errands on my way home. I’ll see you tonight?” I smiled as Owen walked up and wrapped his arms around my ribs, lifting me off the ground.
“Where else would I be,” he said, bending to kiss me before resting his forehead against my own. “Be safe.”
 
“I will,” I assured him, hugging him back. Once more on my own two feet, I gathered my belongings to head out. Turning to Ellen, I handed her the drawing I’d done, saying as I did so, “Here, this is for you.” And grabbing the pile of books they’d lent me, I hurried out of the shop and into the afternoon sun.
 

My errands for the day were almost done. I’d met a friend of Bronwyn’s who was willing to help me try to break the curse. Even if that help was that she listened to my theories and told me if she thought I was on the right track with my research. I was feeling tired and lonely, and I walked up to the market with all of the enthusiasm usually reserved for medical tests or perhaps a tax audit, when I suddenly froze and hid behind the potted greenery in the floral department.
 
There, standing in the produce section, squeezing the tomatoes and sucking up to some older guy, was the beta hound. That pain in the ass had tried to attack me twice, and had brutalized Owen and then abandoned him. I would have dearly loved to go in and beat the shit out of him, but somehow the produce section of the local market did not seem the best place to do it. Besides, the last thing I wanted to do was let them know where I was staying, or that Owen was with me.
 
Not that I didn’t trust Owen, or thought that he would do anything to help them, but I figured he might do something brave and noble and get his own butt kicked (and I was becoming rather fond of his butt, and other parts- but that’s beside the point). So that’s why I was hiding behind the potted ficus tree, watching as the beta and the other man walked through the market (and buying quite a bit of stuff-if I do say so).
 
“Are we hiding for a reason?” the mild voice whispered in my ear. The next sound was me trying not to swallow my own tongue.
 
“The young stud wannabe with the older man?” I whispered back, pointing them out to Miriam who had snuck up behind me. “He’s the schmuck who beat up Owen; I don’t want him to know that we live in this area.”
 
“Ah, good idea,” she said quietly, leaning forward to watch them. “Why don’t I wander around and pick up a few things and I can tell you when they leave. They’ve never seen me with you, so I’d just be another shopper.”
 
“That would be great. Thanks.” I watched her walk off, looking as if she hadn’t a care in the world, while I was in the market trying to avoid being attacked by a he… hound. There are days when I wonder why getting out of bed is such a popular activity.
 
“They’ve gone,” Miriam walked up, pushing her wagon. “So what did you come in for?”
 
“Something for dinner, I thought I’d make something in the slow cooker and have it ready when Owen got home from work. Would you like to join us?” I offered without thinking, but it felt right. “I was thinking of maybe some beef stew, some sourdough rolls, a nice salad, and maybe something for desert?”
 
“Thank you. That would be nice. It is so boring; eating by yourself, don’t you think?” Having both made our way through the line; we grabbed our bags and headed for home.
 
“I know. I’m so used to eating alone that I have to remind myself that Owen might like to talk, or at least not watch me read a book while we’re eating.” Cutting across the car park, we headed for the street that would lead us past the square where I’d first encountered the er… hounds, and then to our street.
 
“Hello Miriam, can I give you a lift?” the voice behind us asked, and I could hear the smile before I had even turned.
 
“No. Thank you, though. Gracie and I are walking home, enjoying the good weather while we have it. Gracie, this is Sheila. Sheila, this is Grace.” Miriam introduced us, and for the second time in an hour, I choked as I tried not to swallow my tongue. Sheila was the friend of Bronwyn’s I had spent the better part of an hour talking to about curses and being a witch and hopefully breaking the curse I was under.
 
“Yes, we’ve met,” Sheila smiled, and I could see she was thinking of quite a bit that she wouldn’t mention in a crowded parking lot. What she did say was, “So Miriam, you’re the lucky soul Gracie’s going to help with her garden? I envy you. Laura says she’s a genius when it comes to garden design.”
 
“I could help you make a garden for your terrace.” I offered again, knowing she’d probably decline again but somehow wanting Miriam to know I offered.
 
“I won’t be held responsible for the deaths of any innocent plants. There are days when I’m working and it’s all I can do to remember to keep the cat and myself fed. I’ve even been known to kill silk plants.”
 
“Then you’ll just have to come see Miriam’s garden when it’s done, so you
can be green with envy,” I offered with a grin. I’d been watching Miriam not watching Sheila, and Sheila watching Miriam not watching her. It was obvious they were friends, and it was equally obvious, to me at least, that Miriam would have loved for them to be more than just friends but had no idea how to bring about that change.
 
“It’s a date,” Sheila replied, laughing delightedly when Miriam blushed. Turning to face her friend, she continued, “Mir, you’re going to have to let me know when the garden is ready for visiting. It will give me something to look forward to during that bleak, rainy, dreary month known as February. Brrr. January has been so mild this year; you just know that February’s going hit us hard.” Truer words had yet been spoken, only none of us knew then just how hard the next month would indeed hit us.
 
We were both excited as we walked towards home, Miriam because she’d seen the woman she loved, and I because I had a plan. Who knew? Me. A matchmaker? Cormac and Deirdre would fall on the floor laughing. But I didn’t care, maybe I could help Miriam. Me being able to help people: that felt right somehow.
 
Miriam came into the kitchen with me, quiet now as we unloaded my packages and started the stew in the slow cooker. She roused a bit to exclaim at the large wicker basket of vegetables and the beautifully carved walking stick that had been left on the kitchen table, until I explained that Caerwyn probably brought them to us from his mother.
 
She was soon deep in thought again, so much so that she didn’t even question why I had followed her into her house and was quietly unloading her packages. She didn’t even notice that I had snuck some of Bronwyn’s vegetables into her bags. I was going to have to do something about this.
 
“I’m going back home and going to put my feet up and take a nap.” I told her, grabbing her attention by holding her shoulders and rubbing my hands up and down her arms. “I’d suggest you do the same. You’re so distracted; I’d hate to see you try to do anything that required paying attention: like driving. Or perhaps brain surgery.”
 
“You’re probably right, I am kind of tired.” She didn’t even laugh at my joke, bad as it was. This was worse than I suspected. “Maybe I should just stay home tonight.” Miriam was clearly talking herself out of trying for a deeper relationship with Sheila, hell she was clearly talking herself out of dinner with Owen and me. I had to do something to get her attention; something to get her to stop thinking whatever was making her so sad, something drastic.
 
Cupping her face in both of my, admittedly icy cold, hands, I leaned in to stare into her startled blue green eyes, saying firmly, “You are going to take a nap, you are going to come over for dinner with Owen and me. You are totally cute and completely worthy of being loved, and Sheila would be an idiot if she couldn’t see that. And while Sheila can be called many things, none of them contain the word idiot.” And just so she got my point, and would believe me, I kissed her.
 
Okay, so I meant for it to be a nice soft innocent kiss. Is it my fault her lips felt as soft as rose petals and tasted like manna from heaven? Is it my fault she’d given a startled “Oh!” just as I laid it on her? Or that her open lips just invited my tongue in to explore this new miracle known as kissing her? Let me just say that the kissing would have gone on much longer if I had not forgotten once again about the need for oxygen. Oops.
 
We broke the kiss with both of us gasping for air. So I guess I wasn’t the only one who’d forgotten to breathe.
 
“What was that for?” Miriam asked, and her voice sounded a little thinner
than usual. She was feeling her lips with her fingertips like she’d never noticed her own lips before. Trust me, I had. She had eminently kissable lips.
 
I shrugged, grinning guiltily at her. “You looked like you needed it. Owen gets home today around six. If you want to come over earlier, please do so. I’ll probably only sleep for an hour or two. Any more and I can’t sleep at night.” Okay, I can’t blame anyone else for what I did next. As she followed me to the front door, to lock it behind me, I turned around to face her. And kissed her like I meant it. I had to smile as I closed the door and leaned against it. She’d still had that stunned look on her face as the door shut between us.
--Chapter 6--
 
 
 
 
 
 
I was still thinking about my close call with the beta as I climbed the never ending stairs to my room at the top. I can admit now that it had been incredibly naïve of me to think that they would just go away and never return. Even if seeing him at the market was just coincidence, and I can’t see coincidence stretching that far, a group that would take the time and energy to place such a curse on me, and would send two of its members out to attack me not once but twice, was not going to give up after two foiled attacks. If anything, they would probably think that they’d picked the right target, although I was not entirely sure why I had been chosen in the first place, not certain what criteria they were using.
 
 
I had talked myself in circles, and given myself a headache by the time I’d reached my room. I still had the headache when I woke up from my nap. I decided that maybe work would help. I hadn’t done much drawing since I’d come here, and thought that might help me find my way out of my confusion.
 
Thinking that a still life would let me meditate while I drew, and not having someone here for me to draw, I decided to do a drawing of my new craft. I gathered all of my new tools of my new calling and arranged them in a way that pleased me. The Tarot cards were splayed out in a fan across the front; the runes were arranged as if they had tumbled out of their bag. They were joined by the other tools Laura, Bronwyn, and now Sheila had given me, thinking I would soon need them.
 
 
My athame, or small knife, was a gift from Laura and Dr. John that showed up the night Owen and I found Shadow and Smoky huddled on our windowsill. The staff, I must confess, looked more like a walking stick, but there you have it. Bronwyn and Brychan had made it for me from a young tree they’d had to cut down when it sprouted too close to their house’s foundation, and they’d had Caerwyn leave it with the vegetables. Sheila gave me a censor or thurible, for burning incense, and said that Ellen and Cordelia would order some incense and candles for me if I let them know what I needed.
 
I had a couple of candles that I had bought and placed around the room, and I put those in the still life as well. Arranging everything took some time, but it was soon ready and I sat down to start my sketch. I’m not sure why I did this, but something made me want to use the heavy cardstock that Laura had gotten for me to work out the designs for my own deck of Tarot cards. That decided I began to work.
 
 
I usually start with a very lightly drawn quick sketch, just the merest outline to make sure everything is where I want it and that it all fits in the picture. The arrangement that looked fine on the table with the deep blue cloth draped behind it, had large wholes in its arrangement and looked flat and lifeless on the page. Not thinking about what I was doing, I started correcting some of the errors in my original placements and outlines, and just started drawing. It wasn’t until the shape I’d drawn was complete that I realized what I’d done, and why. I’d drawn Shadow sitting in her ladylike pose surrounded by my witchcraft tools. Shadow, it seems, wasn’t just Caitlin, the girl I loved; Shadow was also, evidently, my familiar. Oh my.
 
With Shadow in the picture, however, the still life was complete. The arrangement was pleasing, and it no longer looked flat. I finished drawing in the details, noting idly the three runes that had fallen face up: Teiwaz, Berkana, and Ingwaz; as well as the card that had been on top of the fanned Tarot deck: the Lovers. I promised myself I would look them up when I was finished. There were still a few small spaces that seemed empty, so I pulled out my bag of lucky stones and drew them in the picture as well. I had a variety of quartz including several amethysts, a couple pieces of malachite, and a couple that were actually river rocks (I’d gotten them out of rivers that I’d come across while hiking in a variety of places, mostly the Rockies and the Appalachian mountains), and I drew those in wherever they seemed to fit. The last things I put in were the quill pen I’d bought at Monticello and brought with me, and a jar of royal blue ink. Again I’m not sure why I put them in, but they fit.
 
 
Putting down my pencils, I took a step back and looked at what I’d made. It was, as far as I could tell, perfect. As a still life, with cat, it had balance, depth, and order. And as a statement about my new calling to witchcraft, it said that I was equipped, I was prepared, and I was willing to learn. I only hoped it was right. I decided to take my drawing downstairs and show it to Miriam and Owen, and that I would add color at a later date, when I decided whether to use acrylics or water colors.
 
Owen and Miriam were already in the kitchen when I came downstairs gingerly carrying my newly completed drawing. “I poked my head in, but you were focused so intensely on your work, I figured we’d let you work until we’d finished making the salad,” Owen said, greeting me with a hug and a kiss before handing me a mug of tea and a plate of cheese and crackers. Leaning my drawing against the cookie jar on the counter that divided the kitchen from the dining room, Owen stood and just looked at it for several minutes before saying anything. But finally he gave his opinion. “That’s an amazing drawing; you really caught Shadow’s dainty poise. Is this for your Tarot cards?”
 
 
“I don’t know yet,” I answered honestly. “I haven’t really given it much thought. I can’t think off the top of my head which card it would end up being.”
 
“Why don’t you have the cards printed,” Miriam suggested, looking carefully at the drawing’s details. “Instead of inking them yourself. You could use this drawing as the reverse side. Your drawing is lovely and it would make your cards into a real work of art.”
 
 
“That’s a really good idea,” Owen said, pleased with the idea. “You could probably print up more than one set; maybe even sell them at Ellen and Cordelia’s shop. I would think that other witches would like a set of Tarot cards that reflected their view of the world, and their craft.”
 
“You even drew the markings on the rune stones.” Miriam was looking even closer at the drawing, so close in fact I almost wondered what she saw that I didn’t. She pointed to another spot on the drawing, and said, “You also drew the face on the cards: the lovers. I wonder what it means. What are those runes? Do you know? Have you looked up what they mean?”
 
 
“The runes are Teiwaz, Berkana, and Ingwaz. And I haven’t had time to look them up and see what they mean.”
 
 
“After dinner,” Owen insisted, setting the table and serving the stew. “We can go upstairs and look in the books, but if we don’t eat soon, I’m going to start to drool. That stew smells delicious.”
 
Dinner was indeed delicious, if I do say so myself, and the conversation was relaxed and sporadic as we talked about books and movies and plays around bites of stew or salad or sips of hot tea. We discovered that we all enjoyed reading mysteries, and science fiction, and that while Owen and I had recently become acquainted with the burgeoning genre of paranormal fantasy, Miriam had not yet tried any of the new vampire series being written.
 
Desert was a trifle Miriam had brought over, and that done we led Miriam up the stairs and showed her our room at the top, and my growing collection of books on witchcraft and Tarot cards and rune stones.
 
“Runes first.” I sat in front of the bookcase, pulling down one book after another searching for meanings. “The first one is Teiwaz, and it means, among other things, balance, self-sacrifice, and righteousness, and its esoteric meaning can include magical equilibrium, selflessness, and spiritual purity.”
 
“And if this were a Nornic Oracle- that would be the past?” Miriam asked.
“Yup, but to get the full, specific meaning it has to be interpreted in light of the next two. And the second is Berkana, named for the birch tree, and means nurturing, nourishment, mothering, fertility, healing, and growth. Its esoteric meanings can be earth mother or perhaps spiritual growth and sustenance.”
 
“That would be the present, and the last?”
 
“That would be Ingwaz, which means…oh my”
 
“What?” Owen and Miriam both asked at the same time. “It means potency, latent energy, sexual heat, orgasm, union, fruition, or goal. And its esoteric meaning can be intense creative energy.”
 
“Oh my, is right.”
 
“Other interpretations include: life, seed, family, a birth, preparing for the start of a new project…”
 
“Yeah,” Owen chuckled, “I could see how a birth might be considered a new project and babies always seem to require a great deal of preparation.”
 
“Easy for you to say, buster.” That came out a little sharper than I probably intended, I was just getting very uneasy about the whole thing.
 
“Are there any other possible meanings?” Miriam asked, bless her. I think she caught on that this reading was seriously wigging me out. Chills down the spine serious.
 
“There are a couple: going back to basics, the calm after a storm, a fresh start, that kind of thing. One book mentions heroism and withdrawal.”
 
“So it might not mean whatever you’re afraid it means,” Miriam said absent-mindedly. She had looked closely at the titles on my bookcase and had started to wander around the room, looking at the arrangement of things, smelling the flowers on the dresser that Owen had brought me. She looked over at me and smiled; a beautiful smile that lit her face with joy.
 
“You do know how much they love you, don’t you?” she asked, looking around at the room they had made just for me. “You are a part of their family. They chose to make you a part of their lives, and that is an incredible gift.”
 
“I know.” I smiled back at her, leaning into Owen’s side, my arm wrapped around his waist. He stiffened slightly and then relaxed, resting his hand on my shoulder. “There are quite a few people who have let me become their family, and I am grateful for every one of them.” I looked up into Owen’s eyes to let him know that was meant for him.
 
“It’s late, and I should get to bed if I’m going to be able to get up and go to work tomorrow.” Miriam stretched, leading the way back down the stairs.
“Do you still want to meet tomorrow and discuss garden design? I should be back by one; we can have lunch then and talk about plans for my garden?”
 
“I’ll be there, with notes. Do you want me to bring anything? Desert? A loaf of sourdough? Chocolate chips?”
 
“Nothing. Just yourself and your notes.” Kissing Owen gently on the cheek, Miriam turned to face me, cupping my face in her hands. “Thank you for this lovely evening, it was nice to be with people I can relax around.” And she kissed me, a long, slow, sweet kiss that curled my toes and had us both gasping for breath and laughing as we came up for air. Closing our front door only after I heard hers shut, I turned and leaned against the door, feeling my still tingling lips with the tips of my fingers, not quite ready to look at Owen and read what was showing in his eyes.
 
It turns out I didn’t get the chance to look into his eyes. Without a word, Owen walked up and picked me up in his arms and started walking back up the stairs.
 
“What can I say,” he began when I started to protest wordlessly. He sounded rather embarrassed when he explained, “I’m feeling studly tonight.”
 
“That’s fine,” I assured him with a laugh. “I just don’t want you to do yourself a mischief. You throw out your back and then where would we be.” And wriggling until he put me down, I took his hand and led him up the stairs to our room.
 
“Is it too late to take a shower?” Owen asked, leading me into the bathroom, and pulling out our bathrobes and towels from the linen closet. “I feel the need of a shower after all that talk about Ingwaz.”
 
“It’s too cold for a cold shower,” I insisted, shivering as I pulled down my jeans and throwing them in the hamper, looking disgustedly at the now overflowing pile of laundry waiting for someone to do them, read me. I bet those paranormal chick lit books never discussed who did the laundry, or who was left to chase the evil dust bunny gang (oh wait, that one I read about).
 
“Tomorrow is Friday, and I have the weekend off,” Owen explained, while I was still trying to figure out where he was going with this non sequitur. “Saturday, if you’d like, we can do the laundry and clean the house. I should probably run a vacuum through the empty rooms, and maybe open up the windows and let them air out, if it’s not terribly cold. It’s a poor guest who doesn’t take care of the house in his hosts’ absence.”
 
“What planet are you from?” I asked, looking at him in amazement. “Did you read my mind?” I still wasn’t convinced that Owen didn’t have some abilities in that direction.
 
“No,” he laughed, reaching over and pulling my turtleneck over my head. “I saw you looking at the pile of laundry as if it had started growing. And if I’m doing my laundry, I can throw yours in at the same time.” And stepping out of his boxers, he opened the shower to turn on the water, getting it good and warm.
 
Have I mentioned the lovely big bathtub big enough for two? (Or possibly three- I hadn’t tried that yet). Have I mentioned the big bathroom with a long vanity with two sinks? Work with me here for a minute, I’m getting there. Have I described the shower? The shower where we had our first quickie? No, then perhaps I should.
 
It was huge, with large slate tiles on the floor and ceramic tiles on the walls and on top of the bench that lined one wall. The enclosure was so large it didn’t need a door. And the showerheads? Oh my. There were six of them. One rather large one hung from the ceiling and the water came down like a gentle rain. Four were aimed at different heights, two from each side. And the last was a standard handheld massaging showerhead. And the assortment of body wash, shower gel, and shampoos and conditioners that Laura had left me would have supplied a small bed and breakfast for a year.
So when I stepped into the shower behind Owen, the air was already steamy, and with all of the showerheads going it sounded like we were under a waterfall. Walking up behind him, I licked the water off of his back before wrapping my arms around his waist, and stood holding him listening to him breath.
 
That wasn’t his plan, however, and he moved like a man with a plan. Taking my hands from around his waist, he turned around and then turned me around, wrapping his arms around me and holding me while the water washed away our cares and our fears for the future. Taking a bottle of shampoo from the bench, he gently washed my hair, massaging my scalp and working his way down my back, the shampoo making my skin slick under his talented fingers.
 
Picking up a bath mitt, he poured some wonderful smelling shower gel on it and began rubbing it over my body, concentrating on my legs, my arms, my back, and my stomach, and only lightly rubbing those traditional areas, while I got more and more aroused. When he took up the massaging showerhead and rinsed all of that soap off of me, his hand trailing along my skin behind that stream of pulsing water beating gently against my skin and relaxing my knotted muscles. When he aimed the nozzle at my breasts I thought I’d never felt anything like it, it turned even my armpits into erogenous zones, and when he aimed that stream of water between my legs, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. I was still shuddering when he put the nozzle back in its holder and gently leaned my back against the shower’s back wall. Nudging my legs open with one of his, Owen wrapped his arms around me, lifted one of my legs and braced it against the bench, and entered me.
 
This time I was looking into his eyes as we came, and there was no hurt, no fear, no sorrow; just a profound sense of belonging and love, and the sure knowledge that even though we were never destined to marry and live our happily-ever-afters together, we would still be family, and would be there to be a part of each other’s happily ever after. The drying off took a long time, as we enjoyed the moist warm air that still filled the bathroom.
 
The walk from the bathroom to the bed took no time at all, and we were both shivering and laughing when we dived under the covers, blessing whoever had invented flannel sheets that didn’t steal all of your body heat as you tried to warm up the bed. We had just gotten settled, Owen lying on his back and me draped comfortably against his side with my head on his shoulder, when I realized that there was one fear I needed to face, and we needed to talk about when it was just the two of us.
 
“Babe, we need to talk.” Now that I’d made up my mind, my mind wanted a second opinion. I so did not want to have this talk. Talks like this always end in tears.
 
“What about, Babe?” He sounded remarkably cheerful considering the gray thoughts running through my head. He must have guessed a little of what I wanted to talk about, but it didn’t seem to bother him. It sounded almost like he was giving me an out, if I wanted one. I did, but I couldn’t take it. Dammit.
 
“Well, it has been brought to my attention that in all of our planning and discussing when and where to have our hot, steamy, mind-blowing sex, the words condoms and birth-control somehow never came up.” Sarcasm, anyone?
 
“I take it you are not on the pill?”
 
“Not anymore.” I shrugged apologetically, “I was on it in high school and through most of college. And not for birth control, I was put on it to regulate my period.”
 
“Well, that’s good.”
 
“Huh?” That reaction was not what I expected. Although I should have realized by this point that Owen’s reactions were hardly ever what I expected. But I didn’t. Go figure.
 
“If you are pregnant, it’s good that you’re no longer on the pill. It can cause problems.”
 
“It can also prevent getting pregnant.”
 
“Well, yeah, there is that.” He paused to scratch the top of his head in thought, and then scratched mine for good luck. “I have to admit that I can’t tell if you are pregnant or not. Yet.” Say what? That got my attention.
 
“You can tell if women are pregnant?” Call me skeptical, actually amazed would be more like it.
 
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “It’s not consistent, and it’s not immediate. I’ve never known before the woman herself. Although in one or two cases the woman thought she was and I told her yes or no, and I was right.”
 
“So, how would you feel if I were?” That was the heart of the matter wasn’t it?
 
“How would you feel, if you were,” was his reply.
 
“I don’t know. I would like to have kids; I would also like to go to grad school. And I have a feeling that learning about my craft will involve even more school in my future…”
 
“You can have kids and still go to grad school.” He pointed out, rubbing my back and drawing little shapes on my shoulders with his fingertips. “And you do know that if you are pregnant, I wouldn’t leave you on your own, trying to raise our girls alone, don’t you?”
 
“Girls? Why do you say girls?” See? This is why I was nervous about talking to Owen. I’m worried about maybe being pregnant and he’s got me raising girls. Was this just wishful thinking? Or maybe a little untrained precognition? Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.
 
“I don’t know. I’d like to have daughters, wouldn’t you? Especially if they looked like you.”
 
“Did you hit your head against the shower wall?” I was seriously concerned that we had just tapped some heretofore hidden delusion of his.
 
“Don’t you think we’d make beautiful babies?” And the man looked positively happy, dammit.
 
“I’m worried that I may be pregnant and you’ve got us making beautiful babies? And I have to add, right here and now, that your use of the plural nouns only adds to my unease.”
 
“Well, you did say that twins run in your family, right? I figured that even if you weren’t now, you had said that someday you would like to be, and Caitlin isn’t exactly equipped to make it happen. So…” I couldn’t help it; I broke out laughing, partly in relief, partly because I’d just remembered the punch line of a very bad joke that had been running around lately.
 
“Call me a chipper lesbian and I will be forced to hurt you.” And with lighter hearts, and a hopeful outlook we curled up together and fell asleep.
 

“I hope you all remembered that today is Friday.” Ellen greeted us as we walked into the store, four beignets and four cafés Americano in hand. “I hope you know what that means.” And grabbing the bag, she put the beignets on plates and handed each of us an envelope in exchange. “It’s payday.”
 
“I get one?” Opening my envelope, I peered in and saw to my amazement a pile of lovely pound notes. I could buy more books!
 
“You get paid for four half days plus commission on the books you sold, and I did notice that books seem to go out much more often with you two making recommendations. You, Owen, got paid for four full days and also commission on what you sold. With your help we were able to actually get our paperwork to the accountant on time this year, so you both deserve it, and our thanks.”
 
“You’re welcome,” I replied around a mouthful of beignet. “I wish I could stay and help out today, but I’ve got a meeting with Sheila, and then I’m meeting Miriam for lunch and to discuss the designs for her garden. Do you need us to come in tomorrow?”
 
“No, but thank you for asking. We close up shop over the weekends. With just the two of us, we need the evenings and weekends free to keep our lives running.”
 
“Ah, but you have help now,” Owen reminded them. “I could watch the store in the evenings for you. And work weekends.”
 
“That might work, I’ll have to think about it and see if the business that came in would pay for the electricity to light this old barn.”
 
“It’s Friday, and we’re taking you two out to dinner,” Cordelia announced as I gathered my gear to leave. “Tell Miriam she’s welcome to join us if she wants. Hell, invite Sheila if she’s free. We can go to Babo’s. You like Italian, don’t you?”
 
“Yes, I do. Dr. John and Laura took me to this great Italian place when I first got here, but I got lost walking there and couldn’t read the sign so I haven’t gone back.
 
“That’s Babo’s.” Ellen laughed. “We’ll show you where it is. Why don’t we meet at your place after we close. Say around seven: that will give us time to count the money.” And with my day planned for me, I left the store and headed over to Sheila’s place.
 
The walk to her place led me behind the British Museum and through Russell Square to her office. The sun was shining brightly and the temperature was warm enough to make a walk through the park a pleasure and not feel like you were an arctic explorer risking life and limb.
 
I thought about Imbolc as I walked, and about how I would break the curse and what would happen if I failed. I wanted to give each of my friends something to remember this day by, just in case. Maybe a small plant, to give them hope. I was still thinking about this when I knocked on the door to her office.
 
She was there alone, and I can’t ever remember seeing anyone else there with her, but somehow she could afford this beautiful office and to take time off and help me, so I didn’t want to waste her time if she had work to do.
 
“Helping you is never a waste of time,” she answered the thought I didn’t say. “And all you had to do was ask. It’s not prying if you’re truly interested in a person and care for them. I write: mysteries mostly, but also a few works of nonfiction, mostly on things I’ve been helping you with.”
 
“I suppose you write under a pen name?”
 
“But of course,” she laughed. “So shall we start?”
 
The sun was still shining as I walked back through Russell Square but the wind had picked up and I was shivering under my sweater and jacket. Sheila had given me plenty to think about, and an assignment: to make my own anointing oil, and to have it ready in time for the full moon and my attempt to break the curse. She said that it took three days to make, but I intended to start when I got home. Now was not the time to procrastinate, and definitely not with this.
 
I got home with just enough time to run upstairs and grab my notes before going next door for lunch with Miriam.
 
“Your right on time,” Miriam greeted me with a smile and a sample of what was to come, a mug of tea and a small round piece of toasted French bread topped with melted cheddar. “I was inspired by the stew we had last night. I made a pot of chili. It’s been simmering all morning and it’s just perfect.”
 
“It smells divine.” I assured her, taking off my jacket and giving her a hug. “I even took the long way to Sheila’s and back so I wouldn’t feel guilty about having two big meals today.” Taking her arm I walked down the stairs to her kitchen, enjoying again the cheerful colors she’d used and the beautiful pictures she’d put up.
 
“Two?” Miriam had put placemats on the counter, rather than the table, to give us room to spread out our ideas while we ate. She quickly served up big bowls of steaming chili with sour cream and shredded cheddar and chopped green onions to put on top if we so chose. And I so chose.
 
“Ellen and Cordelia are taking Owen and me out to dinner at Babo’s, and they’ve invited you to join us. I asked Sheila, but she is going out of town this weekend, evidently the parentals want to see her.” I would have said more, but I’d taken a mouthful of chili and had to stop talking and give it the attention it so richly deserved. Of all the chili cooks I’d had cook for me, this was definitely in the top two for mouth watering yummies. And the one at the top was Cormac, and that was saying something.
 
“Babo’s.” Okay, she was laughing at me, looking at me like I was a cat that had just discovered catnip. What can I say; I’m a sucker for really good chili. And this was definitely really good chili. Amazingly good chili. And she was sitting there calmly eating this wonderful food and talking about restaurants. “I’ve never been there. I hear the food is incredible.”
 
“It is indescribably delicious. Can you join us? We’d love to have you.”
 
“What time?” Did I mention the cornbread? Just as I was beginning to miss not having cornbread to go with the amazing chili, a bell chimed and Miriam got up and pulled a cast iron skillet out of the oven with the best smelling cornbread I’ve come across in a long time. Letting it sit and firm up was the hardest thing, but eventually she cut into it, giving me a huge wedge. Topped with butter and honey, it was absolutely delicious. I rolled my eyes, curled my toes, and shivered in happiness. I didn’t even mind that she was laughing at me again.
 
“Be at our place around seven, and we’ll all walk over together. I got lost the time the Dr. John and Laura took me, and Ellen promised she’d show me where it is.” I was so happy after that lunch that I actually turned down desert.
 
“Shall I show you what I came up with for your garden?” I asked, handing Miriam the last clean dish for her to dry. After a meal like that, the last thing I could do was leave her with a mess in the kitchen. “Yes, please. I looked at the magazines, but it all seemed so complicated.” She sounded forlorn. “The pictures are all so lovely, but it probably never turns out that way.”
 
“Well, I’ve got some pictures that might help.” And I pulled out my trusty photo album. “These are pictures a friend of mine took of the gardens I’ve designed. It was kind of a she helped me and I helped her situation. She needed photos of gardens for an assignment and I needed pictures of my gardens to show potential clients.”
 
“I thought we’d start by putting in a pergola on one side, maybe butt it against the shed, train some wisteria along the frame and voila your very own outdoor private space. Depending on the size of the pergola you could put a table and chairs under it or even a daybed or lounge, somewhere you can lie down and read.” And I showed her pictures of the pergola I’d designed for Dr. John and Laura’s garden, as well as the one I’d built for Deirdre.
 
“I found a shed that would work well for you. You will need a shed, for your tools if nothing else.” And I showed her the shed that looked like a small cottage with double doors on the front and windows on the other three sides. “If we leave the back window off, and bump it against the garden’s wall, you won’t lose much space.” She obviously had something to say, but I wanted to get my ideas out before she could start shooting them down, so I soldiered on.
 
“Now here are some of the plants I think would work well considering the amount of sunlight and the usual average temperatures.” And I showed her pictures of hosta, azaleas, climbing roses, as well as a variety of annuals. “If you would like a vegetable garden, we can put one in on the other side of the shed. We might even be able to put in a small greenhouse, butt it up against the far side of the shed to take advantage of all the light it can get. Now, you were going to say something?”
 
“This is incredible,” she began. She was shaking her head as she spoke and I could tell she was talking herself out of it. “Its’ too much, I could never afford that. The supplies alone would sink my budget.”
 
“Don’t worry; we’re firm believers in sweat equity. We’ll take it out of you in chili and cornbread.”
 
“I’m serious; I can’t afford that kind of work.”
 
“Yes, you can,” I told her as I explained. “I emailed Bronwyn and asked for a few favors, and she had the perfect answer to all of our problems. She lost several trees in her woods this winter, and she has to have them removed before the growing season starts. We can use the wood from the downed trees for the pergola.”
 
“Oh?” she seemed overwhelmed, so I just continued.
 
“One of the trees they have to remove is rather large, and Brychan has offered to mill the wood so we can build the shed. Bronwyn also said that she has a few plants that are not showy enough to sell to the public, but I can get them healthy and beautiful in no time. If you feed the laborers, they’ve said that would be payment enough, although Bronwyn did say to warn you that there are days when Brychan and Caerwyn can eat their weight in food. And as for the greenhouse, Laura wants to put in a larger one, and offered to sell hers to you for a nominal fee.”
 
“Oh.” She finally began to think it could happen, and as that thought took root, tears started to stream down her cheeks.
 
“I told you,” I said, reaching over and wiping the tears from her face. “You are completely worthy of being loved, and we help the people we love. So, are you going to let us help you or do I have to kiss you again?” I wanted to hear her laugh, but once again I found myself floored by the reactions of my friends.
 
“Hmm,” she thought about it, looking at me, back at the garden plans, and then back at me. “Both.”
 
“Huh?” I was speechless, and then I couldn’t breath. But that was because she’d kissed me and I forgot the need. We were both breathing heavy when we broke off, but Miriam just took a couple of deep breaths and started kissing me like there was no tomorrow. And believe you me; with her kissing me like that I wanted to see tomorrow.
 
“I hate to kiss and run,” I whispered as soon as I could breathe. “But I’ve got to get some work done this afternoon, and I should leave now or I won’t be able to resist the impulse to tear off your clothes and have my lecherous way with you.”
 
“And this would be a bad thing?” she asked, kissing her way down to my neck. My afternoon plans were in serious jeopardy, and I needed to do something drastic before she kissed away my good intentions.
 
“No, this would be a very good thing, but I still have a great deal of work to do. So I’m going to be virtuous and go home while I can still think in almost complete sentences.” And kissing her one last time, I walked out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and grabbing my jacket on the way out, turned the knob to lock the door, and closed it tight behind me.
--Chapter 7--
 
 
 
I then proceeded to bang my forehead against her front door. What was I thinking? Oh yeah, I remember now: Hell hounds, curse, never being able to see the woman I love again, let alone never again to kiss her silly. Put that way, I was only slightly grumpy as a walked down Miriam’s front steps and back up my own.
 
The postman walked up just as I got the door unlocked (it only took me three times- I must be getting the hang of it), and with a cheery hullo, thrust a stack of mail in my hands and sauntered off. On top was a large package with Caitlin’s careless scrawl. Dropping Dr. John and Laura’s mail in the box for Caerwyn to take back to them, I put Owen’s mail aside for him and then took my package into the library to open it.
 
The letter was long and loving and told me how much she missed me and how she hoped I was not feeling abandoned. The package itself contained another picture from Angharad, a small carving of a sitting cat from Brychan, a four leaf clover from Caerwyn, and another package of Da’s chocolate chip butterscotch brownies, this time made by Caitlin. With my goal fresh in my mind, I trotted up the stairs to work.
 
Since we couldn’t find a ritual to break this particular curse, Sheila and I were making one, and as we did our research I was keeping a list of things this ritual would need to do, and what I would need to do it. First on the list, though was the anointing oil, which meant a trip back down the stairs. Down to the kitchen, I’d found the perfect jar and had washed it out and left it on the drain to air dry.
 
According to my books, to make anointing oil you took a clean bottle, filled it with fresh mint leaves (I was using spearmint) and then filled the bottle with extra virgin olive oil until the mint leaves were covered. Store it in a cool dry place. Every six hours you turn the bottle upside down. At the end of twenty four hours you strain the oil through cheesecloth, refill the jar with fresh mint and pour the strained oil back in the jar. Cap it, store it, and turn it every six hours. At forty-eight and seventy-two hours, you repeat the straining and replacing the mint. Twenty four hours after the final repetition, strain the oil one last time and this time pour it back into the empty bottle.
 
Once that was done, I went back upstairs and booted up my computer. After a quick stop in the email, to read my messages and send a few back to friends and family, I hit the search engines looking up every possible search term that might give me information about rituals, breaking curses, full moons, and Imbolc. I used word combinations I never would have thought of before this all happened: magic rituals, ritual magic, pagan ritual. There was a lot of information out there; unfortunately I didn’t feel I could trust my future to most of these sights. I also did research on familiars, and again the results were mixed and overwhelming. I’d also taken a pad of posty notes, and used them to write down the runes and their meanings from the unintended reading that appeared in my drawing.
 
I was still pondering my own personal mysteries when Owen came in early from work. “They sent me home after we tried to call and no one answered. Ellen figured you had your head in your research and probably didn’t hear the phone ring. Cordelia figured you were out in the greenhouse, or over at Miriam’s making mad passionate whoopee. And I didn’t have the heart to tell them that the phone is three flights down and we had both just figured that no one would ever try to call us.”
 
“Maybe we should buy a cordless.” I murmured. Owen had started rubbing my shoulders and I was feeling quite relaxed. “What time is it?”
 
“Time for a nice long relaxing bath,” he suggested, picking me up and carrying me into the bathroom. Evidently I had been oblivious to everything around me if I hadn’t heard him come up the stairs and run the water long enough to fill the tub. I hadn’t even smelled the bath oils he had poured in.
 
“So how’s the research coming?” he asked as he pulled off my sweater and started unbuttoning my shirt underneath.
 
“I think I’ve got the list of things I’ll need for the ritual, or rather rituals,” I explained as Owen pulled off the shirt and started on the long underwear under that. “I have the anointing oil steeping in a jar in the kitchen, I’ve got the bath oils for the ritual bath beforehand, and I figure we can wear our bathrobes to get from the hot tub to the circle in the walled garden. I emailed Bronwyn my plans and she emailed me back saying that the hot tub is ours for the night, as is the walled garden. She even offered to go in before us and get the ground ready, draw the circle, and bring out anything we need that we won’t be bringing with us.”
 
“We? So you will need my help?” He had just finished unbuttoning the long underwear top, and pulled the camisole under that over my head, laughing as he finally reached my bra.
 
“What? I was cold.” I couldn’t wait to see his expression when he saw what I was wearing under my jeans. Normally these jeans were quite baggy, not today. But back to the subject at hand, “Yeah, I’ve talked it over with Sheila, and she agrees that it would be better if you were there. Do you mind?”
 
“Not at all, that’s why I offered in the first place.” And he helped me pull down my jeans, revealing the long underwear bottoms covered by a pair of his boxer shorts. He didn’t start laughing until he pulled off those two pairs of underwear to find me wearing a pair of my own panties underneath it all.
 
Taking off his clothes took no time at all, and we were soon soaking in the wonderful big tub. This time he was leaning against me, as we talked about rituals, and I told him about mine.
 
“So, that’s the plan, so far?” He was purring contentedly as I rubbed lazy circles on his chest.
 
“So far.” I agreed. “What time was it when we came in here?”
 
“About four thirty, it’s just past five now. Why do you want to know?” he asked looking back at me over his shoulder.
 
“Because I wanted to know if we had time for me to do this.” And I reached down until I held the warmest part of him, my hands warm and slick from the bath oil. For the first time, I held him and felt his body react as I wrapped my fingers around and slid them up and down. The idle purring became more energetic and he turned around to kneel in the tub. He took one look at the tub full of water, looked down at the bath mat on the floor beside us: large and thick and soft and dry; picked me up and lay me down on the bath mat and was inside me before I had settled myself on the ground. This time we were kissing as we came, and I swear I saw sparkles, but that could have been oxygen deprivation.
 
“Good lord woman, you’ll wear me out.” Owen whispered as he shifted to the side so he wasn’t lying on top of me. He was very polite that way. “I don’t think I was this horny when I was a teenager.”
 
“And that was what, five years ago? You’re still young.”
 
“Six, but who’s counting. I think our friends would be surprised if they knew that we were having more sex together than most straight couples.”
 
“We need to get dressed if I’m going to have enough energy to stay awake during dinner.” And helping me up, we jumped back into the tub just long enough to wash off, and then jumped out again before we were tempted to start again. He was drying my back, with long gentle motions rubbing the soft towel up and down my spine.
 
“Do you really think it’s odd that we’re having sex?” I asked, taking the towel and returning the favor. I started at his shoulders and rubbed his back all the way down past his bum to dry the backs of his legs.
I’d been told often enough that I was weird that I wanted this one area to be untouched by feelings of doubt or of shame…it had felt right and good and, yes, natural when we made love and I didn’t want anything or anyone to spoil it for us. We both had had hard lives and we deserved this special way that we could make each other feel special and wanted and, yes, loved. And my loving Owen had no effect whatsoever on my love for Caitlin and my desire to spend the rest of my life with her.
 
“Me? No.” he took the towel back and started to dry off my front, starting with my arms, but stopping just long enough for a kiss. “And I don’t care what anyone else thinks, with the possible exceptions of Caitlin and Caerwyn. I told Caerwyn about us when I saw him, and he was okay with it.”
 
“Do you know if he spoke to Caitlin about us?” My voice, if possible, got even smaller.
 
“No, but I suspect she knows.” He admitted, looking down at me with a grin. “We’re sleeping in the same bed, she already knows this, and neither of us is terribly fond of pajamas. She’s seen this for herself.” I didn’t have much else to say, so we got dressed quietly and then went downstairs to wait for our company.
 
Dinner was incredible. We walked over to the restaurant, and now that Ellen has pointed out the landmarks I can walk there whenever I want. I can’t, however, tell you how to get there. I was wearing my glasses that night and they kept fogging up so that I couldn’t read the bloody street signs. If you’re ever in town, I’ll take you myself and you can judge if they don’t have the best food in town. But I digress.
 
Dinner was fabulous, the company was cheerful and funny and a joy to be with, but nothing was talked about, no plans were made, and no run-ins with the hounds. We didn’t think about what had been going on until after we’d said our goodbyes to Ellen and Cordelia and were walking back to our homes.
 
“Did you tell Owen who you saw in the market yesterday?” Miriam asked; her hands stuffed into the pockets of Owen’s coat. She had looked so cold when she came over to our house that we wouldn’t let her leave the house until she’d put on a warmer coat. Owen was wearing his leather bomber jacket, so that was easily solved.
 
“No.” I admitted before turning to Owen to explain. “I would have told you sooner, but I got sidetracked with the conversation during dinner last night, and it slipped my mind.”
 
“Did he see you?” Somehow he knew. He sounded mad, but I knew that he wasn’t mad that I hadn’t told him, okay he was probably a little mad about that, but mostly he was mad that I’d had to hide from them.
 
“No. They didn’t see me, I saw him first. He was with an older man, I didn’t recognize him. Was he the alpha?”
 
“Probably not.” Owen admitted. “I’m not sure who that would have been, maybe someone who works for the Major.”
 
“Is that what you call your alpha? Major?” Miriam asked, smiling shyly as we both pulled her hands out of her pockets and tucked them into our arms to help her keep up. Owen has long legs, and I’ve been told I walk quickly for someone with short legs like mine. Oh well.
 
“Yes, we do. But to be honest, I’m not sure he really ever served in the military. He’s definitely scary enough, but when I’m not scared shitless of him and can think clearly, he’s got that definite air of the wannabe about him. Do you know what I mean?”
 
“Oh, yeah.” I knew all right. I’d sensed the same thing from my stepfather, the rat bastard. My grandfather was similarly scary, but he was definitely in the military. He used to get drunk and tell my cousins and I stories about his experiences in world war ii, how he killed men during the liberation of Paris, how he had sex with Parisian girls without bothering to ask their age, or if they wanted it, and about the medals he’d been awarded. We never minded the stories, when he was scaring us shitless with his talks he wasn’t trying to get into our pants, and when he was, no one was safe, the boys or the girls.
 
“Well, then you know what that kind of man is like. I’d say we need to make sure he doesn’t spot us, but that’s hard to do unless we know he’s there, we’ll just have to keep our eyes open, make sure we’re aware of everyone around us. Don’t take the same routes when we go places, alter our paths as often as possible. And I’ll teach you how to shield; I should have done so before now.” By this time we had arrived at Miriam’s front door. Owen unlocked it for her, while she struggled to free herself from his coat, and then kissed her good night, saying, “Sweet dreams.” She turned to face me, and I kissed her quickly and then shooed her inside before she started shivering too badly.
 
“I’m going to spend part of tomorrow in the greenhouse if you’d like to come over and hang out with us.” I invited her as I held open the door for her. “Come over anytime, we’re just cleaning and doing laundry.”
 
We were both quiet after we left Miriam in her house. Locking up behind us, we went straight upstairs to get ready for bed. Lying in bed, I was feeling sorry for myself, thinking Owen wasn’t feeling frisky cause I hadn’t told him about the market, when I heard him chuckle as he rolled over and wrapped his arms around me.
 
“Babe, I worked hard all day at the bookstore, I came back here and made mad passionate love to a beautiful woman on a bathroom floor, and I ate so much incredible Italian food that I couldn’t move if my butt was on fire. And you expect me to feel frisky? Aren’t you as exhausted as I am?” Well, when he put it that way, I was pretty tired. And rolling over so he was spooned against my back, I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

Saturday morning began with the smell of coffee. It wafted through my sleep and entered my dreams until I couldn’t tell if I was still dreaming or just delusional. Owen laughed when I told him this, muttering it in the general direction of his chest. Did I mention I am not a morning person?
 
“Don’t worry, babe, you’re not having delusions, we really do have coffee.” He sounded entirely too cheerful for this early in the morning, and technically it was our day off, so we should have been able to sleep in. I was just about to smack him, just on general principals, when his last sentence penetrated the fog.
 
“We have coffee?” I opened my eyes and looked up at his face; with my head pillowed on my chest his face was close enough that I could actually see him and not just a big blur. The rest of the world came into focus as Owen reached over and gently placed my glasses on the bridge of my nose.
 
“We have coffee. I bought us a present, and if you’ll get up I will show it to you.”
 
I didn’t actually get up, but I did sit up on the bed, pulling my wandering limbs together until I had my chin resting on my knees and my arms wrapped around my shins. My eyes had closed again, and I was trying to remember why I’d gotten up when I felt Owen drape my bathrobe over my shoulders.
 
“You can’t have your coffee and your treat if you’re still asleep, you know.”
 
Grumbling and muttering to myself, I shrugged into my robe and crawled to the end of the bed and wrapped myself around Owen, once more resting my head on his shoulder. “Morning.”
 
“Morning.” He agreed cheerfully. “Come see what I got us.” And picking me up he carried me over to the dresser that sat against the bathroom wall. Sitting on the top of the dresser was a wooden tray, on which sat a four cup coffee maker, a basket of yummy looking fresh baked goods, and everything necessary to make a mug of coffee or a pot of tea. It reminded me of the hospitality centers you find in b & bs.
 
“Kind of like a b & b, don’t you think?” He echoed my thoughts, smiling as he explained. “I like to have my first cup of coffee when I’m getting ready for the day, but those stairs can be rather daunting, don’t you think?”
 
Looking around I saw a pile of new clothes folded neatly on the chair, and asked, “When did you go shopping?”
 
“They let me off early yesterday.” He reminded me. “Actually they let me leave around three. It was kind of slow after noon, so we were just talking. I told them I needed to go clothes shopping and that I wanted to do something nice for you and had thought of this, so they shooed me out the door.”
 
“I am pregnant, aren’t I?” I honestly don’t know where that came from, but I was so tired that morning I probably couldn’t have told you where babies come from.
 
“Yeah, I think so.” He sounded sad, like he thought I was angry or disappointed or not going to want these babies, which wasn’t the case at all, or wouldn’t be once I woke up.
 
“I didn’t want to know either way until after whatever happens this weekend has happened. Or at least I thought I did.” That said I turned to face my other fear. “You said girls, did you see girls or was this just wishful thinking.”
 
“I saw girls, but if it’s any consolation one was clearly older than the other, and one was clearly younger.” He said this, and I knew he didn’t understand at all.
 
“Shit, twins.” I had to stop and pound his back, handing him a napkin to mop up the coffee that had just come out his nose.
 
“Why do you say that?” he croaked, taking a cautious sip of the water I’d gotten for him.
 
“Whenever one child is clearly older than another it means one of two things, a gap of several years, or twins. Trust me on this, kids a year apart look the same age, but only twins can make such a big thing about the ten minutes that passed between one birth and the other.” I thought about my siblings and laughed, almost snorting coffee out of my own nose.
 
“What’s so funny?”
 
“Well, I’ve told you that Aisling and Bridgid, and Cormac and Deirdre are twins right? Well, evidently when mum was in the hospital and naming the babies, the nurses got them backwards, both times. So Bridgid and Deirdre are actually the older twins. And boy do they make sure their twins don’t forget.”
 
“You must miss them; it sounds like you’re very close.”
 
“Dee and Cor raised me.” Putting my coffee down on the dresser, I turned to face Owen and wrapped my arms around his chest. “Have I thanked you for my lovely gift, even if I won’t be able to use it for much longer?”
 
“You just did.” He smiled as he bent down to kiss me before answering. “And you’re drinking decaf. I figured if you have to give up caffeine, I would to. Have I thanked you for our girls yet? Or for saving my life? Or for introducing me to the man I want to spend the rest of my life with?”
 
“I think you just did.” I could get used to this, but first I needed breakfast. My stomach announced to the world that it was empty and very unhappy about this situation. And we both laughed as we went downstairs to make breakfast and face the day.

 
“I was told to tell you that lunch is ready.” Miriam’s voice was all smiles as she leaned into the open door of the greenhouse where I was getting an idea of what was there and what I would need to get ready for spring. “I brought my chili, and Ellen and Cordelia are here as well.” Hearing that, I was glad we’d gotten the housework done first thing.
 
“I take it Owen told you the news?” I wasn’t surprised he’d told. He was tickled pink by the whole idea. I had more immediate concerns, and until I knew that the curse was gone for good I couldn’t think about the prospect of babies, especially not twins. Oh god, twins. Although for some reason, I didn’t feel like I was carrying twins, but what did I know.
 
“He’s practically glowing, he’s so happy.” Miriam smiled at me as she said this, walking into the greenhouse to give me a kiss. I thought about being parents with Owen and being partners with Caitlin and I was filled with happiness, but a small part of me hoped I never lost the privilege of being allowed to kiss this beautiful woman: even if we never made out again.
 
“So how do you feel about all of this?” she asked, looking into my eyes. “Are you happy, or still wigged? You seem calmer than I thought you’d be.”
 
“Honestly? When all this is over, I will be as happy or as wigged as anyone could ask. For now though, I can’t think of anything past this ritual. The thought that this might not work is unbearable, but it’s all I can think of.”
 
“If there is anything I can do to help.” She offered in a true gift of friendship. “Just let me know.”
 
“Actually.” I’d just had a thought: a very good one. “I’d like to draw you. How would you like to be one of the people on my deck of Tarot Cards?”
She was so speechless that she didn’t make a sound as I led her into the kitchen where I told the others of my plan.
 
“There isn’t enough time for me to do the whole deck.” I explained my reasoning as Owen and Miriam laid out a scrumptious spread for lunch: chili, sourdough rolls, and pots of hot coffee and tea, and all the accompaniments. “But I think I can finish the Major Arcana. I’ll do them all on large pieces of card stock. If our ritual works, I’ll come back and finish the deck. If it doesn’t and it all goes south, then Laura can bring you two the pictures and you can have the cards printed and sell them.”
 
“Thank you. That’s a very generous offer.” Ellen smiled, taking the sting out of her next words. “I just hope we never have to take you up on that offer. We’ll just take it on faith that you will succeed and you will finish the deck. And we all will celebrate with you on your successes.”
 
“Do you mind if I go out with Ellen and Cordelia for a few hours?” Owen asked as we cleaned the dishes. “I know I offered to do the laundry, but they’ve offered me a ride out to the farm, and Bronwyn called while you were in the greenhouse and she wants me to come out to see them.”
 
“No, I don’t mind. Miriam is going to sit for me, and I can fold the laundry as it comes out. Tell everybody that I miss them and I love them.”
 
“I will.” He hugged me, and for a moment I was so jealous I could scarcely breathe. I wanted to see Caitlin more than anything. And this was the longest that I’d gone without seeing Dr. John and Laura since I was a freshman.
 
I was still feeling down as I watched Ellen, Cordelia, and Owen walk off towards the shop, where Ellen and Cordelia kept their car, when Miriam leaned against my back, wrapped her arms around my shoulders, and whispered in my ear, “I thought you were going to draw my picture. Now are you going to cheer up and get to work, or do I have to kiss you senseless?” What can I say? It worked.
 
“Yes, please.” I was smiling as I turned within the circle of her arms, and returned the favor. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I whispered in her ear, “I’m going to kiss you senseless and then draw your portrait. But I think we should go upstairs first.” And taking her hand I led Miriam upstairs to my art studio/bedroom.
 
“What card am I modeling for?” Miriam asked, suddenly nervous. I was getting my supplies ready, and she was wandering around my room, picking up knickknacks, touching book spines, studiously avoiding the unmade bed. Boy was she in for a surprise.
 
“The Empress. She represents mothering, abundance, the senses, and nature.” I had made a throne of the head of the bed while I talked, and that done I walked up to Miriam where she stood nervously behind my easel, and began to unbutton her blouse.
 
“And you want me to sit there?” she swallowed nervously.
 
“Yup.” Her blouse and her skirt were gone, and I was looking amazed at, of all things, her underwear.
 
“Babe,” I looked up from where I was kneeling at her feet, and asked, “You’ve got the flattest stomach I’ve ever seen. Why on god’s green earth are you wearing a girdle? And what’s with the hundred and one slips?”
 
“My mother,” the whispered answer came.
 
“Hell. I’ll tell you what. We get through the next week with our marbles intact, I’ll take you to the nearest Victoria’s Secret, and we’ll buy ourselves a complete wardrobe of slinky negligees and sexy undies. No more sensible undies for us. Agreed?”
 
“Agreed.” She looked down at me and arched her eyebrow at me. It was a good thing I was already in love, cause I was falling fast. And then she said the words that sealed my fate, “I was promised that you were going to kiss me senseless and then paint my portrait. I’m still waiting.” Well, I had promised, and I always keep my promises. So I did.

Sunday was a day of rest, and rest we did. We read, we napped, we ate long leisurely meals, we folded laundry, and we made love.
Monday was hectic and frenetic, and set the tone for the whole week. We woke early, rushed through a sketchy wash and a cold breakfast, and were still late for work. The shop was busy, with a plastic bin full of mail, a shipment of books and supplies from their co-op, and a never-ending stream of customers. Ellen and I managed the mail and receiving the shipment while Cordelia and Owen helped the public out of a great deal of their money.
Leaving the shop, I made my way to Sheila’s. The next two hours were devoted to fine tuning the upcoming ritual and teaching me more about shields and shielding myself than I ever wanted to know. Sheila is a wonderful person, and our meetings always went well, but somehow I left her office feeling like someone had turned my brain into pasta: rolled flat and cut into strips.
From there I walked home and had lunch with Miriam. I had made a drawing of what I wanted the pergola to look like, so Caerwyn and Brychan could find branches and logs that would work well together, like a jigsaw puzzle. I had also ordered the plans for the garden shed, so Brychan would know how much lumber we would need and what sizes. Then she would walk back to my studio with me so I could continue working on her portrayal of The Empress.
The afternoons were time for me to work on my projects. I carved the rune stones. I prepared myself mentally for the upcoming ritual. I also worked on my Tarot cards. I had done sketches of Ellen and Cordelia and Sheila, I had also done sketches from memory of Caitlin and her family, in both forms, as well as Dr. John and Laura, and even Cormac and Deirdre and the girls, and I was using those sketches as models for cards in my Tarot deck. I had held to my plan to only work on the Major Arcana, with one exception. Making it a present for Owen and Caerwyn, I had painted a large version of the two of cups, using both of them as the models.
After dinner, I worked on the other drawing I was doing using a life model. With Owen as my model, I was drawing a picture of the Magician as elaborate as the one of Miriam for the Empress. With any luck I would have them all done by the ritual, at least I said that to myself each night as I tried to fall asleep.
--Chapter 8--
 
They say that the watched pot never boils, but that’s not true. I’ve watched lots of pots as they start to boil; it just seems to take twice as long. But pots eventually do boil, and Friday eventually came, starting with a cloudless sky and an above freezing temperature. Yeah team.

For once, I was awake before Owen, lying in bed and staring out the window watching the sun rise over our favorite city. The cirrus clouds stood out a vivid purple against the scarlet morning sky. Poets may have seen it as an ominous sign, but I was feeling curiously hopeful. I was still feeling hopeful as I felt Owen roll over and place his hand gently over the place where our girls were quietly growing and waiting for their own spring.

“Today’s the day,” I whispered, turning my head to look into his calm brown eyes. I love this man, I thought to myself, and I smiled as he read the thought as it played across my face and for the first time I read his face as he reacted to my thoughts.

“When do we have to go to the farm?” he was just as nervous as I was: scary thought.

“If we get there before it gets dark we’ll be able to see well enough to get set up, and then we’ll have plenty of time to take our bath before the moon rises.”

“And we don’t have anywhere we have to be before then?” This was deliberate on our parts; no one wanted us trying to do things today when we were so distracted.

“Nope, but we might want to do something to make the time pass. I was thinking I might work on my cards.”

“Later,” he said as he reached for me, and we made love like we expected it to be our last time. Because in our hearts, we did and we each admitted to ourselves and each other that we would miss the closeness we’d found these past weeks. The rest of the day past slowly and quietly; Owen’s card was finished, but I let him model for me anyway. I used his modeling to work on the card I was making him for a gift, and hey he is a beautiful man, can I help it if I like seeing him naked? When I was done with that we read, we napped, we talked about inconsequential things because the consequential things were too close.

At last it was time to leave, our backpacks were full of everything we thought we might need between now and tomorrow morning when we would know one way or the other if my plan had worked. Owen and I had been working on my shielding for over a week now, and my new shields were in place, shiny and new, and with Owen still inside them. Loving someone is like that sometimes.

The bus trip out of town was interminable, and we found ourselves laughing at just about everything from sheer nerves. The air was crisp and cool when we got off the bus and faced the long walk down the road to the farm.

“We can do this,” Owen said quietly, standing behind me and wrapping his free arm around my shoulders. “You’ve planned everything carefully, and while you may not believe me, you are good at this. You’ve thought this out carefully, studied thoroughly, and accepted the help others have offered you. You are a totally awesome person, a truly talented witch, and I am deeply honored to know you and to be asked to help with this.” I was speechless. I also felt totally unworthy of everything he had just said, but that was my issue, not his.

“Will you still feel that way when I trip over a crack in the sidewalk?” I asked, only partially facetious. I’d actually had a boyfriend break up because he said I was too clumsy to take out in public.
 
“Just don’t break anything until after the babies are born. Pregnancy and plaster casts are not a good combination.” And I could tell he too was being only partly facetious.

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” I replied dryly, admitting to myself that we were both procrastinating. Taking hold of myself, and Owen’s free hand, I took a deep breath and headed out on our long walk to the farm. Not looking back may sound poetic, but we needed to be aware of our surroundings in case the hounds had found out about our plans for today and decided to use our distraction to get to us. So I took a good look around, but saw neither strange men nor strange hounds, and thus relieved headed for home.

The walk didn’t take long, and we’d timed it perfectly. Avoiding the farmhouse, full of people I literally wouldn’t be able to see, we cut across the fields and arrived at the walled garden just as the sun was setting, but before full dark. The circle that Bronwyn had drawn was perfect: large enough to hold both of us and our gear, and deep enough in the ground that I’d be able to find it in the dark. The candles were, from their smell, undyed beeswax, and large enough that they wouldn’t easily tip over, and the firepot was a lovely copper bowl on a base that looked like vines winding around each other held together with its leaves. The logs had been laid in the pot, and there was a taper laid out to light everything. The big surprise was lying asleep in the middle of the woolen blanket we would sit on for the ritual: Smoky, who looked happy to see us and nudged a fold of paper with his nose when neither of us moved to pick it up.

It was a note, of course, from Caerwyn:
Hey,
You do know I had to be here, didn’t you? The suspense is getting to us both and we figured if anything went wrong I would be least likely to panic. I can’t wait to be able to see you and congratulate you on your big news, Gracie. Owen told me, and I’m thrilled to think I’ll soon be an uncle. You can do this; we all know this and are rooting for you. Now all you have to do is believe in yourself.
Love, Caerwyn

Well, that took care of one problem. How were we going to know if the plan worked without totally demoralizing Caitlin if it didn’t? If the curse were broken, Caerwyn would be able to shift in front of me, and we’d know.

“We have to go take our bath now,” I knelt down to let Smoky know our plans stroking the smooth fur on his back, “We’ll be right back and then I’ll light the candles and the fire and open the circle. Don’t worry, we don’t have to start until after the moon has risen, which won’t be for a while yet.” One small paw reached up and patted my arm, and I bent down and got a head butt for my efforts.

I could see Bronwyn’s touch when we walked into the wooded area that housed the hot tub: she had decorated the hot tub’s deck with evergreen boughs and candles, and had left a big wooden bowl full of apples and pears and walnuts and pecans and peanuts in the shell. One the shelf next to the hot tub were the bath oils, a jar of sea salt, more candles, a pile of thick soft towels, and a basket of snacks to get us through the night and to use as an offering to the goddess and her consort, and those spirits we would be asking for help and protection.

The tub was already full and the water was hot enough that it was steaming in the cold night air. A small candle had been left lit in a jar, and I used that candle to light the taper before using the taper to light the other candles scattered around the deck. Darkness had fallen not long after sunset, but the candlelight was bright enough that I could see Owen, and that was about it, but that was enough.

We both knew what was going to happen, so we let it happen quietly: neither of us spoke as I sprinkled the sea salt into the water and poured in the bath oil. The night felt magical, and neither one of us wanted to break the silence, as if this silence were a fragile, necessary part of the night. It was also our last night alone together. We hoped for this, but still our last night, and that needed to be honored for its own sake. So we helped each other get undressed, gently stroking the skin that was revealed and placing kissed over hearts, in the center of palms, and one very tender kiss over our unborn.

We were still kissing and touching as we slipped into the water. We had no plans to make love, or at least no plans to have sex, but love itself was part of our plan, so the kissing and touching seemed right. This wasn’t a wash your hair and get rid of the dirt kind of bath; it was more of a wash away the cares of the world and prepare yourself to enter a sacred space bath. Sitting up to our shoulders in the hot, oiled water Owen and I closed our eyes and meditated. We’d meditated together in preparation for this, so it didn’t feel silly sitting next to him with my eyes closed trying not to think. Are you not surprised to find out that I tend to stink at the not thinking part? I do, I stink at it big time. But that night I was able to just feel the heat of the water, the soothing presence of a man I loved and trusted; the scent of the candles burning around us, and the smell of the cool night air, bringing with it the promise of spring.

We both opened our eyes at the same time, knowing somehow that the other was finished meditating. We still didn’t talk as we got out and helped the other dry off, before wrapping up in our thick, warm terry cloth robes, and putting on the woolen slippers left for us by Bronwyn, with a note saying that frostbite was not an acceptable result of the night’s ritual, and walked back to the walled garden and our waiting witness.

Smoky was still sleeping when we returned, but he sat up quickly enough when he heard us come that I knew he had only been catnapping. No pun intended. Making sure all of our gear was inside the circle, I made one last suggestion before starting the ritual that would open the circle, which we would be leaving open until after sunrise the next morning.
 
 
“Owen, and you too Smoky, we’re going to be in this circle for a long time, and I’d rather not have to cut doorways in it, or do anything to it until the whole ritual is complete. So before I start lighting the candles, you might want to find a handy bush and water it.” Owen looked at Smoky, Smoky looked at Owen, and I would swear on a stack of Bibles they were both embarrassed that neither of them had thought of this. As the only girl, and in possession of the smallest bladder, I had thought of this fact days ago, and pulling out a small fold of t.p. I went to go water my own bush.
 
 
They were both back when I returned, but then boys can do that faster than girls, even naked girls. I had taken the time when we first arrived to arrange things so I would be able to work in the dark. I found the taper with no problem, once Smoky realized that he was sitting on it, and lit it from the candle that had been left here burning in a ceramic jar for just this purpose. I then lit all of the candles that were within the circle.
 
 
Now was the big test, time to open the circle. But first there was one more thing. Have I ever mentioned the word skyclad? Have I mentioned the fact that Imbolc is in the beginning of flippin’ February? Well, it is, and that was how I was going to perform the entire ritual, naked as the day I was born. Standing in front of my silent witnesses, I untied my robe and let it drop. And immediately became the world’s biggest goose bump. We couldn’t have done this for, say, Midsummer? I guess not.
 
 
The ritual we’d decided upon started with me walking the circle three times, and there were going to be lots of threes in this ritual. The first time I walked, I traced the circle with my handy dandy walking stick (read staff) that Brychan had carved for me. The second time I took a small bowl of holy water, sprinkled sea salt into it and walked around the circle sprinkling the salty water onto the circle as I walked. The third time, I took up my thurible, and lighting the incense and immediately blowing it out so it was only smoking, I walked the circle again, waving the smoke through the circle beginning to form above the circle carved in the ground. That done I relit the taper to light the candles I had placed at the compass points on the circle.
 
 
Starting at the East, I went to the candle, asked for the help and protection of the spirits of the east, and lit the candle. Doing the same thing in the South and the West, I knelt before the firepot and asked for the help and protection of the spirits of the west, as well as the guidance and protection of the goddess and her consort. Okay, so I wasn’t raised Wiccan, I was praying to the goddess but I was probably thinking about Mary, but hey I figured She’d understand.
 
 
I put the taper to the wood in the firepot, and it caught almost immediately. They had laid it well, and I knew it would not go out but would last the night. Once the fire was lit and the circle was opened, I felt something snap into place, raising my hand I even felt the pressure as I tried to pass my hand over the line in the ground and couldn’t. It even felt warmer than it had when I started, as if the circle around us was keeping the warmth inside. I knew then that it had worked. Now if only the rest of the ritual went as well.
 
 
Sheila and I had talked often about this as I was preparing, and when I talked to Ellen and Cordelia they had both agreed, I couldn’t do a ritual on the eve of Imbolc and the night of the full moon without acknowledging both of those facts in the ritual. I was thinking about this as I waited: about the moon and its ties to the Goddess and indeed to all women, and also about Imbolc and the promise of spring and new life, especially the new life I was carrying; which made me think of my silent witness and wonder what they thought of what I was doing.
 
 
Owen was sitting cross legged on the blanket with Smoky sitting curled in his lap: both were watching me intently, wearing identical expressions of
respect and admiration. And goose bumps.
 
The moon was still below the horizon, so I took the time to ask their opinion.
 
 
“It’s incredible,” Owen explained, “I felt it when the circle went up around us. It’s like your shields only more so. And it feels like it’s woven of all of the things we talked about: life, family, love, hope, balance, sacrifice, even the seeds of the future.” Looking down, I saw that Smoky was nodding his head as if he agreed with Owen.
 
 
“I can still feel my shields,” and if I closed my eyes, I could. My shiny new shields were between me and the curse, so much so that I couldn’t feel it. It hadn’t been till Owen taught me how to put up new shields that we even realized that the curse had been affecting me physically. Part of my exhaustion had been the curse acting like a leech and using my own energy against me. Once the new shields were up, I was able to recover.
 
 
“So can I. Which means I’m still inside them,” he smiled as he said this.
“The moon is about to rise. Are you ready?” Suddenly tongue-tied, I nodded. Reaching over, I kissed Owen’s sweet lips and the silky fur on the top of Smoky’s head and then, turning away from them both, I sat facing the firepot and prepared to greet the moon.
 
I don’t think I can adequately describe what happened next, so I can only tell you what I did and what I saw and felt. And that is only part of what happened, a very small part of what happened. The moon rose, a huge presence in the night sky, pregnant with promise and mystery, its face gazing serenely down on me. I sat in front of the fire, watching the moon begin its journey, and I prayed to god, to the goddess, to every beneficent deity I’d ever studied, asking for protection for those I loved, for understanding and acceptance for myself, and for the wisdom and the tools necessary to help me defeat the evil that threatened those I loved.
 
I had come to realize something else, in my preparations for this night. With me isolated, everyone that I cared of was beyond my reach, and beyond my ability to protect them. I was isolated, and they were endangered.
 
 
Once this part of the ritual was done, and although it had elements of several rituals in its design and would take several hours with frequent breaks between the elements, I did consider this one ritual, I went within and studied my shiny new shields. This next part would again let me know if I’d succeeded. Pressing against my new, and untried, shields I pushed them outward until they had taken the cursed shields and compacted them, caught between my new shields and the shields that were part of my circle. Taking a deep breath and crossing my fingers, I let go.
 
Nothing happened.
 
 
Taking a sigh of relief, I once again studied my shields. They were holding, which is what we’d hoped they would do. Closing my eyes, I focused enough that I could change my focus outward. A wave of dizziness caught me as I opened my eyes, and I swayed where I was sitting, fervently grateful to be sitting and not standing where I could do some real damage.
Owen was suddenly sitting behind me, bracing my body against his, a mug of hot, very sweet tea in the hand he held out to me.
 
 
The tea went a long way to making me feel like I could last the night, that and the slices of banana bread he insisted on feeding me.
 
“Better?” he whispered, the night was once again in the embrace of that fragile necessary silence, where even the stars seemed to listen and wait.
 
I didn’t speak, just nodded my thanks, my head resting back against his shoulder. When I felt I could sit up on my own, Owen climbed out from behind me and started making a pile of the blankets we’d brought, the blankets that Bronwyn had left here for us, the towels we hadn’t used after our baths, and even both of our bathrobes. Lying down on the blankets, we covered ourselves with the bathrobes and prepared to wait for the dawn and the next part of the ritual; which neither Sheila or I had been able to really plan other than saying that somehow what we wanted was for the sun to see me and for my new shields to erase my old shields, or for my new shields to absorb my energy back from the old shields into themselves without absorbing the taint of the curse.
 
 
“Any more thoughts on what the next step will be?” we were still whispering, but the night while still quiet was no longer silent. The sense of waiting was still with us though, and that gave me hope.
 
 
“Not yet, Sheila warned me that most of my witchcraft is not magick based, and works on an intuitive level. I have to admit half the time I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, but I think she just meant I have to be in a situation before I know what will work best, and then wing it. And that I can do.”
 
“You do know that we all have faith in you. Right?”
 
 
“Yes, and when I’m not feeling totally unworthy, I appreciate it more than you could imagine.”
 
 
“Oh, I don’t know, I can imagine quite a bit.” He chuckled, pulling me into his embrace and stroking my hair as I rested my head on his chest. “I imagined our girls. Didn’t I?”

 
“Are you sure it’s girls?” Again, I had the feeling of singleness, not alone or lonely, almost a feeling of waiting. For whom or what? I don’t know.
 
“I am.” He wouldn’t be swayed from his faith that I was carrying twins.
 
 
“Are you warm enough?” I asked not to just pass the time; I’d been looking up at the stars when I noticed idly that snowflakes were drifting down around us, except where the circle covered us. The falling snow would land on the circle and melt leaving trails of wetness like tears to stream down its surface.
 
 
“I take it you just noticed the snow?” he chuckled. “I feel fine. I figured you were rather busy with other things and didn’t need to worry about the weather on top of everything else.”
 
“Yeah, well, I still should have noticed it sooner.”
 
 
“There’s not much you can do about it,” he said with a shrug and then pausing to think added. “Is there?”
 
“Not that I’m aware of,” I laughed in relief. “Not something I want to mess with, thank you anyway.”
 
 
“So what do we do now?”
 
“We wait.” So I waited, with my head on his chest listening to the steady beat of his heart. I don’t know what prompted me to say what I did next, but it seemed appropriate, so I looked up at Owen and said those four little words. “Tell me a story.” Okay five little words. “Please?”
 
 
“A story?” He looked at me like I’d demanded he confess to killing Santa Claus, marrying Big Foot, or knowing the ingredients to the “secret sauce”. “Any story in particular?”
 
I thought about it, and finally said, “Nope, if I say any story in particular it’ll be one that I know. So you pick and surprise me.”
 
 
“Well.” He finally started when I was beginning to think he’d fallen asleep. “I can’t think of a damn thing that would qualify as a story. But I do have a sort of confession to tell you.”
 
 
“Oh,” a confession? I so wanted to tease him, this was going to be fun.
“What? Did you leave the seat up? Use the last of the toilet paper and forget to put it on the list? Forget to tell me that you’re an unrepentant cover hog?”
 
 
“No.” Owen sounded slightly huffy when he answered, and then almost guiltily he added. “Well, I did forget about the toilet paper, but I made sure there were tissues in the bathroom. And I only steal the covers in self defense, you’re worse than Caerwyn and Caitlin combined.”
 
 
“So what do you have to confess?”
 
“I’ve met Cormac and Deirdre. They flew in Saturday, and have been staying at the farm ever since.”
 
 
“And you met them? When?” I was so hurt I could barely swallow let alone speak.
 
“Saturday. And before you say anything: they wanted to come home with me to see you, but it seems they’re also affected by the curse.”
 
 
“How do we know they’re affected?” You know what they say about denial? I was knee deep in it and sinking fast.
 
“When we went to the hot tub and you were getting everything ready? Dee was standing on the other side of the hot tub. She probably would have stood closer, but the thought of having you walk through her was wigging her out.”
 
 
“Why were they affected but not you? This makes no sense. She’s the one person in the world I don’t wear shields around.”
 
“I don’t know. I’m sorry, I wish I knew.”
 
 
I could only shrug. It’s not as if I were an expert on this, I was just trying to keep my head above the proverbial waters. And then I had a thought, so terrible and twisted that it had to be true.
 
“What is his name?” I whispered, as if the night itself shouldn’t hear what I had to say. “The one with you in the park that night.”
 
 
“Morgan McCoy.”
 
“Morgan like the horse?” Sorry, I had to ask. That set Owen off and it was several minutes before he stopped laughing enough to answer.
 
 
“As in hung like? Only in his pitiful dreams. No, it’s probably more like Morgan as in le Fay, wicked witch and downfall of Arthur.”
 
“Well, if I’m not completely delusional Morgan McCoy is the bastard son of my bastard of a stepfather.”
 
 
“So our alpha is your stepscum?”
 
“Oh no. It gets more twisted than that. And there’s no way in hell that Bart the Bastard was ever, or ever will be, an alpha. Of anything.”
 
 
“So the alpha would be?” He asked, and I knew. I just didn’t want to say it. Saying it would make it real, and this was too horrible to contemplate.
 
“He would be my great-grandfather. Who I grew up believing was my grandfather. And who waited until after I started having my period before he raped me. I know this because he told me, while he did it.”
 
 
“I’m guessing he intended to get you pregnant?”
 
 
“Yeah, but it didn’t work. Cormac took me to a doctor friend who gave me a double dose of birth control and kept me on the pill until I had my period. That’s also part of why I stayed on it. If I couldn’t get pregnant, there was no reason for him to rape me.”
 
 
“So, why would he curse his own great-granddaughter? What would he expect to get out of it?”
 
 
“Me? My powers? Me: without friends, without allies, at his mercy? He truly doesn’t know me if he thinks I’d turn to him for help. I’d sell myself before I let that happen.”
 
 
“And that’s when he would take you “under his wing for your own good”. Taking you in when you were that much in trouble would also make him look good if he spun it well enough.”
 
 
“Yes, but why. What would it gain him?”
 
 
“Your powers?” Owen shrugged, “That could also be why he wanted you pregnant. If he realized that he’d never be able to control you, he could control the next generation and through them control the power.”
 
 
“Okay, you’re scaring me. That actually makes sense.”
 
 
“I’m scaring me too. But I promise you this; he will not come near our girls. If anything happens to you, I will take them and raise them, and if anything happens to both of us…”
 
 
“Caitlin and Caerwyn. And then Cor and Dee, and then Dr. John and Laura, and then Ellen and Cordelia…”
 
 
“And then Miriam and Sheila.” He was smiling when he finished. “I get your point. You have a lot of friends who would be willing to help our girls.”
 
 
“No, you dear silly man, we have a lot of friends who are willing to help us anyway they can, up to and including raising our girls if we can’t.”
 
 
“Gracie, love, it’s almost time. Whatever we’re going to do, we’d better start.”
 
 
“Owen? Did I ever tell you what happened that night that Smoky and Shadow came to the townhouse and you and Caerwyn were making love when I woke up?”
 
 
“No,” he blushed, “I didn’t realize we woke you.”
 
 
“It’s okay,” I reassured him, “I woke up feeling Caitlin spooned against my back; with you pressed against my front. And I reached over your shoulder and ran my hand through Caerwyn’s hair as he loved you.”
 
 
“So that’s what you were doing,” he smiled shyly, “I couldn’t figure that out, and didn’t want to ask and have you think I was nuts.”
 
 
“I already know you’re nuts. But the reason I brought it up was that when I felt you shudder, I opened my eyes.”
 
 
“And?”
 
 
“He saw me.”
 
 
“Not quite awake and not quite asleep is very similar to a trance state,” I loved this man, not least of all because he made intuitive leaps almost as wide as mine. Laura used to say that when I was making leaps, I left other people far behind on the other shore looking for bridges.
 
 
“And we’re both in pretty close to a trance state now. Sleep deprivation can do that to you.” And leaning forward I kissed him, slowly carefully. We didn’t want passion. Not yet. We wanted that closeness you get when you’ve slept in someone’s arms, and you’re not quite awake yet so your shields are down, and it seems like the most natural thing in the world to be in that not quite awake state and make love.
 
 
We needed the sun to see us, so we threw off the blankets over us, we kissed and we cuddled and we almost let ourselves fall asleep, and when the sun was just peeking over the horizon we made love. I have never felt so close to anyone in my entire life, and I’m not sure we were meant to get that close to another person. It was like our shields were down and our auras started to overlap. As the sunlight grew brighter, and we felt it warm on our skin, our passion grew and our lovemaking became more urgent. I was straddling him and he was thrusting into me, and I felt hands stroking the long muscles in my back.
 
 
Caerwyn pressed himself against my back, letting me feel that he was quite happy to be there. The end came quickly and explosively, and we all collapsed into a shaky sweaty pile: laughing and crying, hugging and kissing each other as the sun looked down and saw us. Saw all of us: together.
 
 
“We did it,” I whispered, my throat dry and my lungs overworked. Bending forward I kissed Owen giving thanks. “We did it,” I whispered into Caerwyn’s mouth a second before I kissed him.
 
 
“We did it,” Owen answered, bending forward to kiss me and then kiss Caerwyn, thanking both of us.
 
 
“We did it,” Caerwyn whispered, kissing me. The shaky sweaty pile that was us had shifted as we kissed until Owen was spooned against my back and Caerwyn was spooned against my front, and they were both very happy. I took Caerwyn’s beautiful face in my hands, and kissing him deeply, took his happiness into my body. We all came together. And when we lay back, sated and exhausted, I knew I was carrying twins. It seemed only fair, so I told them both.
"You know?” Caerwyn seemed to be taking it well, this instant fatherhood. Turning to Owen, he repeated his question. “You knew?”
 
 
“Yup.” He was awfully smug about the whole thing, if you ask me, “From the very beginning.”
 
 
“What did you know from the very beginning?” Caitlin asked, seconds before she threw herself on us and started kissing my face like crazy. Finally, in self defense I stopped her with the simple move of cupping her face in both my hands and kissing her breathless.
 
 
“Caitlin, Gracie’s pregnant: with twins.” Caerwyn announced to his twin’s back, “Only she wasn’t pregnant with twins last night.”
 
She sat back on her heels with her legs somehow wedged between Owen and me, followed the line of my body to where Caerwyn and I were still connected, and looking back up at me grinned, “One of each? Let’s hope they don’t fight like cats and dogs.”
 
 
“I hate to break up this love fest.” Owen’s voice came out sounding a bit strained, as he went on, “Gracie could you close the circle? I really and truly need to pee.”
 
 
“Actually if Caitlin was able to come in, I think the circle is pretty much down.”
 
 
“Yeah, well it doesn’t hurt to make sure it’s done properly.” I couldn’t argue with that, so leaving an offering to the goddess and her consort, I went around the circle one last time, thanking the spirits and the goddess and her consort as I walked, blowing out the candles as I came to them, and scuffing my feet until the circle was smoothed over. The fire in the firepot had gone out but would take a while to cool down, so I left the ashes for another time. No sooner had I finished smudging the circle in the ground than Owen and Caerwyn both ran out, heading for a handy tree in need of watering.
 
 
“I need a bath,” I said, walking up to Caitlin with a silly grin on my face, “Care to join me?”
 
 
“I’d love to,” she answered, and the silly grin on her face was probably a good indication of how mine looked. “And then we have people in the house you need to see.”
 
 
“Now that I can see them again?” I couldn’t stop smiling, and I couldn’t stop staring at her. We’d done it, it had worked. I was floating I was so happy. Okay, happy and exhausted, you get the picture.
 
 
Taking my hand, Caitlin led me to a building behind the hot tub. I’d thought it was a storage shed, but it turned out to be a sweat lodge/outdoor bathing room, with a large tub that was almost the size of an above ground
pool.
 
“You take a quick shower there,” Caitlin explained, pointing to the showerheads that lined one wall. “Then jump into the water and relax. That way we don’t have to change the water as often as you do in a bathtub. That is a lot of water; you have to admit, even if we do get our water from the creek.”
 
 
Turning on two of the showers next to each other, Caitlin grabbed a bath mitt and loaded it with shower gel. She washed me and I washed her, and we then went into the really big tub to relax our muscles before facing the family. The boys had had the same idea; they were already in the tub when we joined them.
 
 
We were laughing and happy when we emerged from the sweat lodge, walking hand in hand to join our family. It was still pretty early, especially when Caitlin told us what a late night they’d all had, and we didn’t expect anyone to be up yet. So we were all surprised when we saw Bronwyn standing on the back deck to the house ringing her hands. The first words she said had us shocked, “Have you seen Angharad? I’ve looked and looked and I can’t find her anywhere. Where is my baby?”
 
 
The first thing we did, after we all hugged and kissed Bronwyn and assured her we would all do everything we could to make sure Angharad was returned to her safe and soon, was to search the house from stem to stern, all of us. It was a slim chance, but we wanted to be absolutely positive that Angharad hadn’t been caught in the curse’s backlash. But when we finished our search, we realized there had been no backlash and we weren’t finding her because she wasn’t there.
 
 
Thinking perhaps there might be a way I could find her using my craft, I went into her room to see if I could sense her and perhaps figure out how they got her out of the house. I wasn’t having much luck when I felt a cold wet, large nose pressed into the palm of my hand.
 
 
“He offered to hunt for her,” Caerwyn explained, one hand resting possessively on the large shaggy gray head, stroking the tufted fur and tugging gently on the ears. Owen cocked his head, his friendly brown eyes looking intently at me. I nodded at him to tell him I understood and he began to move purposefully around the room, sniffing everything in his path. I was watching very closely, and that’s the only reason that I saw the split second shift when his search went from looking for any information in general to following a specific scent. If I’d blinked I would have missed it, it was that fast.
 
 
Following the scent carried him over the bed, raising his hackles and causing a growl low in his throat, across her room to the window. Once I knew what to look for, I could see that the screen had been pulled out and only partially put back in place. Running for the door, Owen ran through the house and around the outside until he was beneath the window into Angharad’s room.
 
 
Caerwyn and I followed Owen through the garden, across the fields, past the walled garden, across the stream, which Owen jumped in a single bounding leap and required a downed tree and a lot of faith on my part, into the woods beyond. The land on the far side of the stream was a wildlife sanctuary, and supposed to be completely undeveloped. But deep in the wood, off one of the many game trails that meandered through the woods, we came across a small cabin, cleverly built into a small pocket valley and concealed by the surrounding trees.
 
 
Owen gave one last low growl deep in his throat and then shifted back to his true form, quickly putting on the jeans and sweatshirt that Caerwyn handed him. “There in the cabin,” he whispered when we’d moved far enough back that he felt secure that the hound in the cabin wouldn’t hear anything. “There’s just the two of them: Morgan and Angharad. She’s terrified, poor baby, and he smells upset, almost desperate. I’m not sure why, maybe something went wrong?”
 
 
“No, you think?” the sarcasm was thick enough to pour syrup on and cut with a knife, but I smiled at Owen’s confusion.
 
 
“I actually meant something went wrong on their end of things, if I’m reading this correctly we were still cursed when they grabbed her.”
 
 
“Maybe she wasn’t the one he was supposed to grab,” Caitlin’s whisper caught us all by surprise, and it was a good thing we’d moved back or he would certainly heard my girlie little squeak. “I followed behind, marked the trail so da and Uncle John could follow. They’ve called in some help.”
 
 
“I’m going to get closer if I can, see if we can get Sweet girl out of the cabin.” Caerwyn kissed Owen like he meant it, and then shifted until there was Smoky buried under a pile of clothes. It took us a while to get Smoky out of the many layers of clothes that Caerwyn had been wearing, but once he had been freed, he made his way silently over to the cabin’s windows peering into one and then the other to get the lay of the land, and hopefully to get Angharad’s attention.
 
 
Something happened in the cabin, the next thing we could hear Angharad yelling at the top of her considerable young lungs, coming up with every threat and insult she’d ever heard in her young life: “You just wait till my da gets here, he’s gonna make mushed manure out of you. He’s gonna beat you like a red-headed step-child. They’re gonna lock you up and throw away the keys. They’re gonna chop off your balls and serve them for supper.” I had a moment’s pause wondering where on earth she’d heard that last one, but then there was no more time.
 
 
The cabin door was thrown open and out ran Morgan, the former hell hound, carrying an ax and looking completely out of control. He looked around as if he expected to see cops and monsters behind every tree. Spotting Smoky as he sat on the window ledge trying to open the window and get to his sister, Morgan ran at him swinging the ax wildly about him. Smoky made a brilliant jump over his head, landing in the loamy soil behind him. Morgan made a mad grab and only narrowly missed grabbing the startled cat’s tail.
 
 
Suddenly two other cats joined the fray, as Brychan and Bronwyn fought for the safety of their children. They were getting the upper hand in the fight, and Owen had just run out to give them a hand, when a wild swing from Morgan’s hand connected with one of the cats, sending her flying across the field to smash into the trunk of a tree with a sickening thud.
 
 
Owen subdued Morgan, knocking him out cold and then tying him up for the police, but the damage was done. Losing consciousness, Bronwyn had shifted back to human, and her human body was just a broken as the cat’s had been. Brychan ran over to her, shifting in mid-stride, and knelt beside her. Afraid to move her, knowing that her spine had to have been damaged, he held her hand and stroked her face, tears streaming down his face.
 
 
Dr. John and Laura came and Laura took Angharad back to the house, making sure she didn’t see her mother like that. I stayed beside Brychan feeding Bronwyn as much energy as I had. I don’t think I could have healed anything, I wouldn’t have known where to start, but I do think I took away her pain. All I know is she was resting easier for a bit and then she opened her eyes.
 
 
“Oh Bronwyn, bonnie Bronnie my love, I hope you’re not thinking of leaving me, are you?”
 
 
“Only for a little while,” she whispered, her eyes glittering with unshed tears, “Such a small time apart for all of eternity together. But you have to wait. I want you to be there when our baby graduates from college, and should she want to get married, you have to walk her down the aisle.”
 
 
“Yes, ma’am. But I’d only do this for you.” She tried to snort, but it set off a round of coughing which visibly weakened her.
 
 
“Gracie, sweet Gracie,” with one hand still held firmly by Brychan she cupped my face in her other, looking deep into my eyes and asked the impossible, “Take care of my girls for me. My baby will need a mum soon, and Caitlin loves you so much but she’ll still hurt when I’m gone.”
 
 
“I’ll try,” I croaked, trying to speak around the tears that wouldn’t fall and were choking me.
 
 
“You are part of our family now, help my boys too. Make sure he keeps his promise to me. Our babies would hurt too much if they lost both of us.”
 
 
“I will. But I’ll be one of those who will miss you desperately.”
 
 
“I know. It’s all right to cry. Just don’t forget to laugh, and love, and live.” The coughing that had started with the snort continued for a bit and then with a small sigh, Bronwyn died lying at last in Brychan’s loving embrace.
 
 
The police came and took Morgan away, and after a while the paramedics came and pronounced Bronwyn’s death, taking her body away in the ambulance. After some quick talking from Dr. John, the paramedics took Dr. John and Brychan with them. It was only through a supreme effort on all our parts that they did not do an autopsy on Bronwyn. There are some things they don’t need to know.
 
 
It was a solemn group that walked back to the farm: Owen, Caerwyn, Caitlin, and me. It would be up to us to tell Angharad of her mother’s death, but Laura seemed to know as soon as we reached the house.
 
 
“She’s in my room, asleep.” Laura began, walking up to Caitlin and hugging her tightly. “I gave her something to help her relax. Perhaps we should wait for John and Brychan to return.”
 
 
“No,” I sighed, wanting to break down and sob my heart out, but knowing that now was not the time, that others needed me. “Brychan will be in no shape to handle this when he gets back, he’s holding on by a thread as it is. Let’s let her sleep, I’ll tell her when she wakes.”
 
 
“You don’t have to do that, sweet girl. I’ll do it, if you want me to.” I’d always known that Laura respected me, I’d come to know that Laura loved me, but with that simple offer, I knew that Laura was now seeing me as an equal.
 
“No, I wish I could let you do it, but I can’t. I promised Bronwyn.”
 
 
There are hundreds of things to be done when someone dies, but none of us felt ready to start any of them, so we all sat in the great room in front of a roaring fire that helped not at all to dispel the coldness that had settled in our hearts. Time moved erratically that day, one hour seemed to never end and the next passed in the blink of an eye.
 
It turned out I didn’t have to tell Angharad, in an act of supreme generosity Bronwyn herself visited her sleeping daughter to say goodbye. I did have to hold the crying girl as the shuddering sobs shook her small body; the tears at last streaming down my own face as well.
 
 
What comes next, I don’t know. We’ve started the hundreds of things that need to be done after someone you love dies. The funeral was last week, and we all stayed for it. The one bright spot in an otherwise dreadful day was seeing Miriam and Sheila there together, holding hands and looking like they belonged together. Brychan is holding on by a thread and I fear that now the funeral is over and he’s had to say his final goodbyes, he’ll go off and try to hunt down the Major, as well as the strange man I saw with Morgan at the market that day. We never did find out why Owen was unaffected by the curse when everyone else that I love was, perhaps we'll never know.
Laura wants me to go to grad school, she says that your program can help me learn my new craft as well as to channel my emerging powers into a tool that I can use, so I will no longer be vulnerable to every power hungry lunatic who sees my power and wants it for their own. Owen and Caerwyn are holding down the fort, or at least the farm, and have decided to expand the amount of organic vegetables that we grow.
 
 
And I am busy keeping my promise to Bronwyn, trying to be a mother to her baby and a partner to Caitlin, while keeping an eye on our boys. Owen and Caerwyn were both tickled pink when the doctor confirmed that I was not only pregnant but pregnant with twins. Angharad’s favorite pastime is feeling the bump that is my stomach, she even talks to the babies and is convinced that they listen to her. The family has taken to making jokes about what must be going on in there or how badly they’re going to get along once they are born and old enough to make their first shifts, but bad puns aside I think this cat and dog are going to be best friends.