Of Stars and Spells

by Nyx Halliwell

  “I always have. You know that. Every day since I left, all I’ve thought about is you.”

  I roll my eyes, channeling Winter more than Spring.

  He reaches for my hand, and this time, I don’t pull back. His fingers are warm and calloused. “It’s true, whether you believe it or not. During the time I’ve been gone, I’ve realized the value of home and family more than I ever did before. I’m glad you and your sisters are still together and have each other. I just thought it would be nice for us to…spend time together and catch up.”

  I feel his utter sincerity, but it confuses me more than ever. I think about his earlier reaction to the mention of Algon Corp. “Tell me what this supposed danger is.”

  With a frustrated sigh, he releases my hand and sits back. “I can’t.”

  Stubborn.

  Like me.

  “No dice, then. You don’t get to waltz in and expect to catch up like we’re old friends.”

  “We are.”

  “Were.”

  He pushes his plate aside. “Tell me what I can do to return to your good graces.”

  “The truth would be nice.”

  “That could get you and your sisters hurt. I will not endanger any of you. You’ll simply have to stay mad at me.”

  Once again, my clairsentience reaches out and senses his honesty. “I’m not sure what I was expecting from our dinner, but this wasn’t it.”

  “Look, I don’t deserve your forgiveness but I’m hoping you’ll give it to me anyway. Maybe not tonight, but some day. I swear I just want to know we’re friends again, Autumn. My life sucks without you in it.”

  I want to believe him. I really do. He was always a good guy, one of the few who accepted me as I was. He was protective and treated my family with respect. “This secret you’re keeping? Does it have to do with Charlie?”

  He straightens, eyes going flat. “No.”

  His reaction is enough to convince me I’m on the right track. Grief floods his aura again and my own over Mom fires up.

  Blood and bones, I’m so tired of this sadness. I’m guessing he is too.

  I rub my chest where I’ve felt a hollow place since she passed. “There are only two people in this world I’ve ever seen you go to extremes for. One is me. The other is your brother.”

  His eyes lock on my heart. He doesn’t move. “His death nearly killed me. There are things about it”—he breaks off and shakes his head—“I can’t go into that.”

  I lay a hand on his. “Whatever secret you’re keeping, Quinn, I can handle.”

  A long pause before his gaze meets mine, those eyes melting my resistance. “You know all of them, Autumn, except this. Please trust me. I want to make things right with you, and I will do whatever I can to earn your forgiveness, but I will not risk your well-being.”

  A lump forms in my stomach now—fear. His, not mine.

  Whatever this is, he truly believes I will be in danger if he shares it with me.

  I’m stumped. But I want to erase that pain on his face, get us back to a lighter place. “Guess I’m getting out that voodoo doll, then.”

  He gives me a half-hearted smile, understanding my attempt at humor. “I deserve whatever the two of you dish out.”

  A waitress returns with my box. “Quinn Harrington, is that you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. How’ve you been, Lucille?”

  “I thought I recognized you.” She puts a hand on her hip and scans my face. “You’re not lettin’ him off the hook are you, Autumn?”

  I shake my head. She knows he broke my heart—I haven’t sat in this booth since he left. “Absolutely not.”

  “Heard about your daddy,” she says to Quinn, sweeping my uneaten burger and fries into the box. “Hope he gets out of that hospital soon.”

  “He’s a tough guy,” Quinn insists. “I’ll let him know you asked about him.”

  Lucille leans down and stage whispers in Quinn’s ear. “I suggest you pull out all the stops if you want to win this girl over again. She’s special, you know. You screwed up.”

  “I know.” Quinn winks at me. “My plan is to go big.”

  A warm flush fills my chest now. His sincerity is too much to ignore.

  Is it possible we could work things out?

  My head is at war with my heart, and it’s as if I hear Winter and Spring in my mind. The pros and the cons, the dangers and risks, of letting this man back into my life.

  As Lucille hustles off and our original waiter arrives to ask if we’d like dessert, I look across the table and know deep in my gut, in my heart, that Quinn means everything he said. There’s something behind what happened that he truly feels he can’t share with me. It’s for my protection.

  But from what?

  I’ll ask my sisters, the cards, my guides for answers. I’m a champ in the stubborn department, and I’ll get it out of him eventually. I bet my broomstick on it.

  We wave off dessert and Jayson leaves the check. Quinn pulls out money and I take a sip of my milkshake. “I’ll think about it,” I tell him.

  He looks up warily, once again reading my mind. “About spending time together?”

  Forgiveness feels like a release valve that’s opened. Pressure exits. Peace descends. My chest expands, breathing easier for the first time tonight. I nod in response.

  Once we’re in his truck, he checks on his mom. She tells him she’s fine and off to bed. We drive around town, reminiscing, and then to his house, where he picks up more pumpkins to bring to Conjure.

  The night is cool but clear, rain predicted for later. I stand outside as he loads them, staring up at the sky. The stars are bright, the moon almost full. Like usual, I search for all the constellations I know.

  Quinn comes to stand next to me, looking up as well. “I’ve been in a couple countries where you could see them this clearly, but most of my time in the States was spent in big cities. You don’t get skies like this in the city.”

  I want more, my mind brimming with dozens of questions. “I can’t imagine not being able to see the stars.”

  He takes me home, unloading the pumpkins on the shop’s front porch and offering to walk me to my cabin. I feel Winter waiting for me, so I tell him no and wave him off.

  He promises to check in the next day and let me know how his dad’s doing. As he drives away, I press my hand to my heart, which is beating entirely too fast.

  “No goodnight kiss?” Winter appears out of thin air.

  “Have you been following us all night under that invisibility spell?”

  “Of course not.” She’s wearing Mom’s favorite cape and she slings an arm around my shoulders, letting it drape over both of us as we walk. “How did it go?”

  I take heart that she wasn’t eavesdropping. “It was weird, as you might expect.”

  “Weird good? Or weird bad?”

  “He seems determined to gain my forgiveness, but claims he can’t tell me why he broke things off. Says it could put all of us in danger.”

  “Hmm.” She falls silent as we take the path, the new solar lights Spring put in glowing various colors. Fingers of chilly fog move in from the forest, and I smell the pine and wet leaves floating in with it. Rain is definitely coming.

  Sirius is on the porch and stands, wagging his tail when he sees us. The light is on, thanks to Winter. She acts like Dad more and more all the time.

  “If he breaks your heart again,” she says. “I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

  I smile and lean into her shoulder. “Thanks, big sis.”

  She leaves me at my doorstep, and I greet Sirius. Inside, the cats are once more gathered in front of the fireplace. Godfrey raises his head for a moment to give me a look. He extends a paw and I see his claws go into the bedding and then retract, a message he’s still on call, like Winter, in case I need him to scratch out a certain person’s eyes.

  I wink at him, pet Snow on the head, kiss the kittens and journey into my room. Once I’m in my pajamas and Sirius is in
his temporary bed near mine, I say a prayer to Coventina, slide another coin in, and fall into a sleep filled with dreams of green eyes and strong hands.

  5

  The dream is murky, shadowy darkness all around. I can barely see in front of me.

  The landscape is bare, my feet not feeling the hardpacked ground as they glide across it. Yet I am pulled on, like a magnet, toward something I cannot see, nor can I name. My heart beats with purpose, love and heartbreak pulsing with each contraction.

  There’s the dimmest light in the distance, and I make my way toward it without any sense of purpose other than the driving emotions in my chest.

  My limbs feel light, my movements smooth as I suddenly pass through the walls of a building. I’m aware I’m having an out-of-body- experience. Astral projection is one of my strongest abilities while still awake, but it also happens while I’m sleeping.

  The sharp tang of metal fills my nose along with that of unwashed bodies, and fear. There are bars in front of me, weighted, unhappy emotions covering everything.

  “Ah, there you are, love,” a familiar voice says.

  From the shadows a man emerges. The tiniest bit of moonlight shining through a window high on the brick wall dances on his hair. Even in the darkness, I can tell he’s broad and muscled. “Fetch the key now.”

  He steps closer to the bars, wrapping long, callused fingers around them.

  “Who are you?” I ask.

  His impatience tickles my skin. “This be no time for jokes. Hand me the key.”

  His narrowed gaze flies to a spot behind my right shoulder and I turn to look. A nail high up on the wall holds a single metal ring with a skeleton key dangling from it.

  Returning to the man, I feel his tone vibrating inside my bones. I take a step closer, look into those eyes of his, searching. The murkiness is heavy, but I know those eyes. “Quinn?”

  His fingers tighten. “Ye know who I am. Come, now. We donna have much time.”

  Time. As if by magick, the skeleton key floats off the nail and hangs in the air between us. His eyes go wide, and he takes a step back. “By all that’s holy,” he says. “What are ye?”

  I cock my head, not understanding. “You asked for my help and I’m here.”

  The key floats to the metal lock in the door of the jail cell. One flick to the right, and a click echoes. The key moves back to the nail.

  “There,” I say. “Help granted.”

  But instead of throwing the metal door open, Quinn takes a step back.

  Back…

  With a sudden tug on my heart, my astral self spins and floats. I pass through fog and shadowy silhouettes of buildings, forests, lakes.

  That version of Quin and the cell retreat in time and space. A past life, my subconscious supplies. The dream shifts, casting me into another, this one filled with the tang of fear.

  I’m running through woods, my body shaking with cold.

  My mother and sisters race ahead of me, all of our breaths coming fast and hard. A strong hand pushes from behind. “Faster!”

  Quinn again.

  I’m scared. Something is chasing us.

  Someone.

  The long skirt of my dress catches on twigs. The bundle I carry in my arms cries softly and my heart pounds like a caged elephant. The baying of hunting dogs rises and falls eerily in the distance of this forbidden forest.

  Ahead is a cave. My mother is at the mouth, waving us in. I pull up a few feet away and turn to Quinn. “I’m not leaving you.”

  His hands are solid on my waist as he grips me tight. “You must. I’ll catch up as soon as I can.”

  Worry and anxiety vibrate off him, making me shiver. He tries to mask them by forcing absolute certainty into his body language, his cocky smile. “I’ll be fine.”

  Over his shoulder, I see burning torches bobbing between the wooden skeletons of trees, the gleam of light bouncing off metal pitchforks. “But…” I start to argue. “I need you.”

  He embraces me, effectively shutting me up and making the babe in my arms squirm. “Go now. Save yourself and our child.” He kisses my mouth, wet from my tears. “Stay with your mum and sisters.”

  “Come with us!”

  He forces his lips into a smile in the dim moonlight. Brushes tears from my cheeks. “It’s my duty to save you, and that’s what I intend. I will lead them away and you’ll be safe. No matter time nor space, I will find you again.”

  There is no choice. I feel it, know it in my bones. I must let him go.

  My voice hiccups. “Swear it.”

  His lips once more find mine, soft and tender. “I will never let you go. Upon my own grave, I swear it.”

  He all but shoves me forward, my mother’s hands replacing his as she forces me and the baby onward.

  I can’t stop crying, my intuition, my gut, telling me I’ll never see him again.

  * * *

  “Autumn!”

  Something wet and warm covers my face as the voice echoes in my ears.

  For several seconds, I’m paralyzed, my astral body not yet back into my physical one. The sensation is utterly terrifying, but I’ve experienced this before. Focusing my concentration, I force myself to relax.

  Another round of a wet tongue and I snap out of the paralysis with a loud gasp, eyes flying open.

  “Autumn?”

  Sirius is in front of me, his big nose touching my face as he licks my cheeks, my ears. Quinn grabs my shoulders, gently nudging the dog out of the way. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

  The cold ground of the forest floor seeps into my backside. The woods are dark, the nearly full moon obscured by rain clouds. A glowing lantern illuminates a tiny circle around us. An owl hoots. Tiny nocturnal creatures scurry nearby. As I shift my too heavy head to look around, I see the edge of one of the altars my ancestors built here long ago.

  This one is—was—my mother’s.

  “Blood and bones,” I curse under my breath. Quinn helps me sit up.

  Shivering in my flannel pajamas, my bare feet tingle from the chill. I’m not wearing shoes or a coat. What the devil?

  Sleepwalking, my rational mind supplies.

  I rub my forehead, and blink away the cobwebs of the dream. I haven’t gone sleepwalking or had an OBE during sleep in years, not since…

  I got over Quinn.

  Sirius whines, and I work my way up to standing with Quinn’s strong hands assisting. My feet protest, tingles racing up my legs. I stomp them on the matted leaves and debris of the forest floor, trying to get blood flow back. Bitter air fills my lungs and appears like white cotton in front of my face when I exhale.

  The trees in the distance glow eerily from the hoarfrost on their limbs. “I guess I came out to clean Mom’s altar,” I lie, throat tight. “I must have fallen asleep.”

  “In your pajamas and bare feet?” He brushes leaves from my back. “Seems like a day job to me.”

  “How did you know I was out here?”

  He pats Sirius on the head. “Your dog came and raised quite a ruckus at the farmhouse. Must’ve went through the forest to get to our land—that’s the way he brought me to you as well.” Quinn picks up the lantern and shines it around. “You took ten years off my life. I thought you were dead.”

  I blink away the last of the dreams. In the first, I saved Quinn. In the second, he saved me.

  Me, our child, and my family.

  “We had a baby,” I blurt out, more to myself than to him.

  He looks startled. “What?”

  “I was dreaming before you woke me.” I rub my arms, trying to shake off the chill. “We had a child.”

  He recovers his composure and gives me a curious expression. “Boy or girl?”

  “Girl.” My intuition is sure about this.

  He gives me a sideways grin, showing off his dimple. “Cool. I bet she was just like you.”

  I chuckle and let him take my arm. He leads me through the tangle of trees to find the path back towa
rd my cabin. Sirius sticks close and the owl hoots again.

  “You must be freezing,” he says. “Why were you out here without shoes and a coat?”

  At this point, my feet are numb. My brain feels the same. “I didn’t plan to be out here long.”

  He doesn’t buy it. I don’t blame him. I consider telling him the truth—that even in my dreams, I’m constantly searching for him.

  My front door is wide open when we get there. “Why did Sirius go to you instead of my sisters?” I wonder out loud.

  Quinn shrugs, his broad shoulders brushing the doorjamb. He sets his lantern on the coffee table and rubs his hands to warm them. “At least he alerted someone. Have you had episodes like this before?”

  He’s dancing around the issue gently and I appreciate it. There’s really no reason not to be honest. “Once or twice. It’s no big deal.”

  I hobble to the fireplace, Godfrey and Snow huddled deeply into Sirius’s bed. I’m shaking too hard to get a fire started, however, and Quinn takes over, shooing me to the sofa and the afghan there.

  Godfrey telepathically complains about my rudeness at leaving the door open on my midnight jaunt. He lectures me about common decency.

  I ignore him.

  He meows loudly, garnering a look from Quinn, and I hear his smooth cat voice in my head once more, not as cranky this time. Sleepwalking?

  All I do is nod and hug the afghan around my shoulders.

  Quinn gets the fire going and heads to the kitchen, filling my kettle with water and pulling out a mug. While the water heats, he brings me a pair of knitted wool socks, then makes me a cup of herbal tea.

  I study him as he moves around the cabin as if he owns the place. Neither man in my dreams looked exactly like this Quinn, but my soul knows him, no matter his appearance or the time or place.

  The cards I pulled earlier are still on the coffee table.

  It’s the eyes, I think. There’s a reason they’re called the windows to the soul. Through each incarnation, I believe they stay the same. The soul is unchanging and so are these very special windows. Most have experienced recognizing someone who’s actually a complete stranger. Their soul knows the other’s and they recognize him or her—who may be from a past life—through them.