by Dawn Eastman
Protect him from word and deed
From harm and from all we fear.
For all that we hold dear,
I thank the Goddess for helping me.
I trust in Her aid
So mote it be!
Diana nodded that we should each blow out our candles in the order that we lit them. I breathed out and felt myself relax.
“Is that it?” Seth asked.
“What were you expecting?” Diana said with a smile.
“Maybe some lightning, howling winds, or at least flickering candles. . . .”
Diana shook her head. “It’s not quite as exciting as it is in the movies. It’s more about sending good intentions into the world.”
Alex was up and had moved away from the candles. Everyone stood and milled about for a few minutes waiting for an opening to change the subject. Seth took the leashes from the hook and Alex grabbed Baxter’s, not trying to hide his desire to get out of the house for a few minutes.
Tom announced he had to get home and said his good-byes as the leashes were snapped on to the exuberant dogs.
When they had left, I turned to Diana.
“What do you think of the grimoire?”
She looked down at her lap, where the book had sat. “I think I’m about to learn more than I want to know about Rafe.”
20
I am climbing up, up, up and feeling dizzy. I try not to look down but I can’t help myself, then the spinning nausea hits and I have to lean against the wall. I don’t recognize this stairwell, which is lined with stone like an old castle tower. I know that I have to get to the top. I can hear the wind. I’m almost there.
I burst through the doorway to the roof of this tower and the wind nearly knocks me back inside. Seth is there and I run to him but the more I run the farther away he gets. Then I hear a woman laughing, almost cackling, but I can’t see her and I don’t recognize the voice. I lean against the short wall on the roof and look over the edge. The whole world tilts and I can’t tell which way is up—I’m falling, falling and screaming Seth’s name.
I woke drenched in sweat in the deepest dark. I took a moment to calm myself. My heart was beating so hard it felt like it was bruising my ribs. I ran my hand along the bed for Baxter but he wasn’t there. Then I remembered that he had shunned me for the more attractive sleeping arrangements with Tuffy and Seth. I stumbled out of bed, tripped over the jeans I had left on the floor, and opened my door. Weak light from outside filtered into the hallway. I had to check on Seth even if it meant disturbing the dogs. His door was closed and I crept down the hallway, still not recovered from the dream.
The doorknob turned easily, even though my hand shook, and I eased the door open. Seth had left his window shade partly open and the streetlights shone into the room. Tuffy let out a low growl when I entered. Baxter picked his head up and thumped his tail twice in greeting. Seth was sound asleep, somehow sprawled among the dogs. I backed out of the room and pulled the door closed.
I took great gulps of air as I leaned against the wall outside Seth’s room. When would I learn not to let Diana do her spells around me? I hated these dreams of doom. I’d never had one about Seth before. Maybe he was in more trouble in New York than I realized. I would have to pin him down the first chance I got. I straggled back to bed, but didn’t fall asleep for a long time.
* * *
The next morning, Wednesday, I woke up late with that sense that I had forgotten something. My eyes were scratchy. I got dressed quickly in the same yoga pants and AAPD sweatshirt and opened my door. A glance down the hall told me that Seth was already awake. It was almost a miracle that he was up before I was. Then I smelled bacon. And sugar. I heard Alex’s voice from the kitchen and remembered. Seth had begged Alex for his chocolate chip pancakes and Alex had offered to teach Seth how to make them. The proposal was met with a lukewarm reception, but Seth finally agreed. Tom had angled an invitation as well. I told Alex I wasn’t sure Seth knew how to cook anything and maybe they should start with boiled eggs, but Alex had that gleam of determination in his eye so I’d left them to make their plans. But after a largely sleepless night I wasn’t in the mood for Cooking 101 in my kitchen. I felt a dark storm cloud gather over my head. I took a deep breath and stomped down the stairs.
There was clanging and banging, some singing, and it sounded like Seth had hooked his speakers up to his iPod for musical inspiration. My spirits lifted as I entered the kitchen and smelled coffee. They plummeted again when I saw the pot was empty. Flour coated the countertop, a carton of eggs sat on the table near a set of mixing bowls covered in batter, and Seth stood at the stove, spatula in hand. Realizing that almost every pan and utensil was in use, I hoped they’d made a pact to clean up after they were done. It looked like I’d missed the mixing part, but the flipping-the-pancake lesson was just beginning. Tom was again studying the accident report, as if multiple reads would change the contents. I grunted at them all, then mouthed a surprised thank-you to Alex when he shoved a mug of coffee into my hand and ushered me out of the kitchen. Fifteen minutes later Seth announced that breakfast was served. They had set up the plates in the dining room—apparently this was an event.
I sat in front of my plate and inhaled the buttery sweet aroma of syrup drizzled over pancakes. They were crisp on the outside, while the inside melted into sugary heaven. Seth watched me and then tried his own. His face lit up with the thrill of a job well done.
“These are awesome!” he said.
“It’s the secret ingredient,” Alex said, and held his fist out for Seth to bump.
After a few more minutes of exclaiming over the pancakes and congratulating Seth, I turned to Tom. “Have you heard anything more about the oil and the bread?”
Tom shook his head.
“What oil?” Alex asked.
Tom explained about the peanut oil on the bread and how anyone could have done it.
“It would have to be pretty fancy peanut oil,” Alex said.
“What do you mean?” I turned to Alex.
“Most peanut oil is safe for people with allergies. The processing destroys the protein that causes the reaction. A lot of people still avoid any peanut products to be safe, but only some of the gourmet oils that still have a peanut taste and smell and are processed differently are supposed to be actually dangerous.”
“How do you know all that?” Tom asked.
“I have to stay up on food-allergy issues to run a safe kitchen.”
“So, this isn’t regular grocery store oil?” I asked.
Alex shook his head. “No, more the kind of thing you’d get in a specialty store or online. Also, there isn’t any smell or taste to regular peanut oil, but the fancy stuff does retain more peanut-y flavor.”
“Thanks, Alex,” Tom said. “I’m not sure Mac and Charla know about this. It might be useful.”
“Glad to help,” Alex said and loaded up his plate again.
More coffee, incredible pancakes, and an entertaining rehash of the cooking lesson allowed me to shrug off my concerns of the night before. We were laughing and arguing over the last pancake when I noticed the smell. Something was burning. Just then a shrill noise shrieked in our ears.
“What is that?” I shouted, with hands to the side of my head.
“It must be the new smoke detectors your dad put in,” Alex yelled back.
We all jumped up and ran to the kitchen to see what was burning. The stove had been left on with three more pancakes in the pan; they were black and smoking, filling the room with an acrid stench. I opened a window and fanned the smoke outside. Seth grabbed a broom and poked at the smoke detector to get it to stop.
For safety, my father had hooked all the detectors together somehow, so they all started alarming. I thought I heard the phone ringing but couldn’t tell over all the noise. Alex had turned the stove off and I was considering how bes
t to deal with the pan—and the flames beginning to reach upward—when Tom shouted.
“Clear the way!” He had my fire extinguisher in his hands and before I could stop him, he squeezed the handle.
In seconds, the stove was covered in foam. The nozzle stuck and when Tom lowered his arm the thing kept spraying. Tom was so surprised that he turned away from the stove, coating the floor and the rest of us in white. As he wrestled with the nozzle, he continued to coat the kitchen until the canister ran out of chemical.
We stood for a moment staring in horror at each other and the mess that used to be my kitchen. The pancake-related disaster looked as if it had been caught in a blizzard. My favorite sweatshirt was likely ruined, the dogs whined at the doorway to the kitchen, and Seth stood with his arms out, apparently afraid to move. Tom alone had escaped the foam. His eyes were huge as he made squeaky apologetic noises. Alex was the first to laugh and soon we all had tears streaming down our cheeks. I felt almost immune to the shrieking smoke detectors when another sound came to me. Sirens.
The phone call must have been the alarm company calling to check on us. Now the volunteer firefighters were on their way. I heard them pull up outside and ran to stop them, but slipped and fell in the now-melting fire extinguisher froth. I told Seth to keep the dogs out of the kitchen before they got covered in the chemical as well. Alex helped me up and we both went through the dining room to the front door to stop the firefighters.
I got to the door just as the first rescuer hit the porch, carrying an ax and the business end of a hose. I put my hand up like a traffic cop.
“We’re fine, false alarm,” I said.
The firefighter looked at Alex and me, covered in white, and said, “You don’t look fine.”
“No, really,” I said. “We had to use the extinguisher and it got a little out of hand.”
“We’re here now.” He gestured to the other two who had joined him on the porch. “We have to check the premises. Protocol.” They trooped past us into the house.
“I see you beat us here, Andrews,” one of them said as they entered the kitchen.
I caught a quick glimpse of Tom turning bright red and decided to let him handle his buddies. He was also on the volunteer squad, and would likely never live this down. He didn’t need me as a witness.
I turned back to Alex and was just breathing a sigh of relief when the air caught in my throat. A bright orange smart car careened down the street and screeched to the curb behind the fire truck. My mother and aunt flung open the doors and rushed up to the porch. I saw Dad’s ancient Buick take the turn at the corner at a much safer speed, but still fast for Dad. He also hopped out and made his way to the stairs. Thankfully, the alarm switched off just as they made it to the front door.
“We heard about the fire alarm on your father’s scanner! I knew something like this would happen. I was so glad he put in that alarm.” Vi paused to take a breath and I jumped in.
“Everyone’s fine. It was just a small kitchen fire.” I thought about the small kitchen fire’s large cleanup requirements and sighed.
“Oh, thank goodness!” Mom’s left hand fluttered over her amulet while her right patted my shoulder.
“How long was the response time?” Dad asked. “I’ve heard they’re almost as fast as a paid fire department. Were they here pretty quick?” He stood on tiptoe to look over my shoulder into the house.
“It’s a good thing you aren’t their driver,” Aunt Vi said to him. She turned to me. “He couldn’t find his keys, and you know how slow he drives. We had to leave him behind.”
Dad kept his face neutral, as usual, during Aunt Vi’s tirade.
The volunteers clomped back out, dragging the hose behind them. “Everything looks fine now.” The man hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “We’ve left our best guy behind in case anything else starts smoking.” The other two chortled and stomped off the porch. I sent a glare in their direction for Tom’s sake, but couldn’t really blame them. Tom did tend to get himself tangled up in less than stellar situations.
“Let’s see what happened,” Vi said.
I swung my arm wide in an “after you” gesture. I caught Alex’s eye and he shrugged. We were stuck with them now until they had deemed the house safe.
* * *
I was covered in dusty foam when Mac burst into the kitchen.
“Clyde! Are you all right?” He was out of breath and his eyes were worried.
“I’m fine. Are you all right?” I was surprised by his harried appearance.
He reached for me and pulled me into a hug, completely disregarding the extinguisher foam that covered every inch of me.
“I just got back into town and heard the fire department had been dispatched to your place. What happened?” He pulled away and surveyed the destruction.
“It was a small kitchen fire and a large fire extinguisher. Didn’t they tell you everything was okay?”
“I guess I didn’t let Lisa tell me the whole story . . . I just . . . I wanted to hear it from you.” His voice had gotten quiet and warm. A slow tingle crept along my spine.
I smiled. “I’m glad you did. I’ve missed you.” I moved back toward him, not caring at the moment that my family was in the living room trying to get the tracked foam out of the carpet, and was enjoying our reunion when someone coughed nearby.
Seth stood in the doorway, averting his gaze with a pained look on his face.
“Sorry, I need to get the ladder from the basement. Papa is working on the alarm in the hallway.” He looked over his shoulder and then turned back to whisper, “They’re getting suspicious out there.”
I reluctantly pulled away from Mac and gestured toward the basement door, where the ladder lived.
“I’m gonna be tied up for the next couple of days,” Mac said. “Can we get together later in the week? Maybe for dinner?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
I walked Mac out to the front door and he left to go back to work. I pointedly ignored the stares and raised eyebrows of Mom and Vi.
“Clytemnestra, I need to speak to you.” My shoulders tensed and I turned back toward my mother. My mind raced with excuses and lies to distract her from me and Mac.
“I really need to finish the kitchen, Mom.”
“I’ll do it,” Vi said. “You two go sit on the porch.”
Mom and I stepped outside and I breathed in the crisp air. Someone was burning leaves a few streets over. I wondered why the firemen weren’t harassing them.
“Clyde, come sit.” Mom patted the space next to her on the wicker couch.
I sat and waited.
“You think you can fool me, but I’m your mother and I know you better than you think I do.”
I took a deep breath and prepared to tell her about Mac. But she wasn’t done.
“I don’t think Seth came out here for the festival. And I doubt Grace would let him ditch school for a week to come to Michigan when he just spent the whole summer here.”
I felt a little dizzy as the conversation took this unexpected turn. I wasn’t sure which topic was more uncomfortable.
I nodded. “You’re right. Seth came here without telling Grace. But I called her the morning after he arrived and she’s agreed to let him stay for a little while.”
Mom blew out a gust of air. “I was worried about this. The cards have been telling me for months that there is something wrong in New York. I thought it had more to do with Grace than with Seth.”
She played with her amulet and stared past me toward the street.
“Mom? I don’t get the impression that Seth is in any trouble. I think he’s just trying to figure out where he fits in, and he doesn’t feel as comfortable in the city as he does here.”
Mom turned and put her hand over mine. “Do you really think that’s all it is?”
I nodded, fee
ling guilty at reassuring her when I was worried myself.
“I hope so,” she said. “I can’t tell you how much I worry about you girls, and now I find I’m worrying about Seth, too. I’d do anything to protect you kids.”
“I’ll talk to Seth and try to figure out what’s bothering him. But, he’s safe here with us. Nothing is going to happen to him.”
Mom smiled and patted my hand. We walked back inside together to face the rest of the cleanup.
21
After a couple of hours with everyone pitching in, the kitchen was clean. Seth had gone to my mom’s house with the dogs because she’d promised him brownies. Alex and Tom had departed for work. Alone in the house for the first time in days, I sat on the couch clutching a cup of coffee as I replayed the dream I’d had the night before.
It had seemed so real, climbing to the top of the tower and searching for Seth. Just thinking about it I felt the familiar spinning sensation I got whenever I stood too close to the edge of a balcony, or even a window in a tall building. I tried to deny that it felt like one of those dreams that foretold the future, but I gave up and decided I needed to face it and figure out what it had been trying to tell me.
Seth was in the vision, but unharmed. I felt my shoulders relax a bit as I examined the sequence of events in the light of day. In the past, if I’d envisioned a death or injury, it had been more obvious. In the most recent dream, I felt I needed to help him but I couldn’t be sure he was in real danger. This was one of those times I wished my grandmother were still alive. She would help me interpret the dreams because I so often jumped to the worst conclusion.
I sat up quickly and almost spilled my coffee. Neila Whittle. She could help. She’d practically insisted on helping. I downed the last of the coffee and grabbed my keys.
The drive to her place was less spooky this time. The house still appeared abandoned, but this time I knew what lay inside. My knock echoed within and I heard shufflings and scrapings on the other side of the door. It finally creaked open and Neila stood there, wearing what looked like the same pile of shawls and rags as last time.
