To Surprise A Seer (Southern Sanctuary - Book 10)

by Jane Cousins

  Crap, it was going to be a high stress day.

  No, don’t borrow trouble. What she needed was a nice, long, hot shower. Quinn was in the midst of washing her hair when she thought she heard her house phone ringing. Shampoo suds sliding down her face she paused to listen... no, ducking her head back under the water she reached for the bottle of conditioner.

  The mirrors were all fogged over when she stepped out the shower. The price of a long hot shower. Damn, she really should get one of the Great-Uncles to rev her bathroom fans up. First world problems, and all that.

  Quinn rubbed moisturiser in to her legs and arms, brushed her teeth and grabbed the hairdryer. Bending over she began to dry her shoulder blade long locks. Funny, she could dye her hair to reflect a more professional image but she hadn’t been able to cut it.

  Probably it had to do with the fact that when she was a child her mother would brush it every night whilst she told Quinn her bedtime story. Stories full of adventure, love and hope. Funny, how sometimes she wished her magic had manifested earlier so she could tap into the memory of those simple stories. Which probably wasn’t healthy, dwelling on fairy-tales.

  No, life was about reality. Dealing with day to day problems and of course magic. She couldn’t forget magic. Fairy-tales may not be real. But in her family, at the Southern Sanctuary, magic was very real. And it was rarely cute, or uncomplicated. It too often came with repercussions and responsibilities.

  And her extended family, more than anyone, knew about what evils existed out there in the world, the hidden dangers that cast long threatening shadows. And they, too often, were the ones to step up and face those threats. Goddess willing, they would always prevail against evil. But their ongoing fight was rarely without consequences, both physical and mental.

  Which is where her role as a psychiatrist was vitally important. Though unsurprisingly most of her patients, the Enforcers especially, resented having to see her. Not that they ever had any choice in the matter. Not since she had the full backing of the Southern Sanctuary High Council. If they wanted to remain on the Enforcer duty roster, they ensured they attended their therapy sessions.

  Quinn turned off the hairdryer and cocked an ear, had that been her mobile ringing? Nope. She turned the dryer back on and bent over once more. When her hair was almost dry she ran a quick brush through it and with practised fingers plaited the mass back from the crown of her head, tucking and pinning the end under at the nape of her neck. She was so expert at it she didn’t even need to wipe the last of the moisture clinging to the bathroom mirror to check her work.

  Her outfit for the day was ready and laid out on her bed. Fitted tan leather skirt, tiny buttons running up the left seam. For convenience sake, Quinn left the bottom six unbuttoned for manoeuvrability purposes, as the hemline ended below her knees. Next came a cream blouse with wide cuffs and matching collar. And since it was a month into Autumn, she grabbed sheer hold up stockings and pulled them on before stepping into cream ankle boots.

  There, okay, a little on the prim side but she looked professional and poised. Exactly the kind of image she needed to armour herself with each day.

  Now, she just needed to head back to her finally de-fogged bathroom, in order to do her makeup and she’d be ready to face the day.

  Her mobile, sitting on the bedside table beeped. Oh, someone had called, and by the sound of it left a message. It could be important. Swooping it up, she hit the message play button.

  “Quinn?”

  She recognised the voice, it belonged to her Aunt Gwen, Gigi’s mother. And boy, did she sound stressed.

  “Something is wrong. Seriously wrong. I think they’re going to kill me.”

  Oh, if she had a dollar for every time she received a message like this.

  “Quinn, I’m so sorry. Goddess, I don’t know what happened. How it happened.”

  Quinn frowned.

  “And you have every right to be upset. I’ll fix it. I promise... of course, I don’t know why it failed in the first place... yet, but I will fix it.”

  Quinn shook her head in bewilderment. Aunt Gwen was making zero sense.

  “My phone has been ringing off the hook all morning, as you can imagine. Everyone wanting to know what happened. I raced down to the shop first thing.... but nothing is making any sense... oh, Sweet Lady, they’ve found me! I can hear them knocking at the door... shoot... listen, Quinn...”

  Quinn could hear rapping in the background as Gwen’s voice dropped to a husky whisper, what the hell was going on?

  “I think they know I’m here. Crap, when I think of my client list, I might be in big trouble here.”

  The sound of knocking in the background grew louder.

  “Blast, I think I’m going to have to face the mob, the door isn’t going to hold much longer.... Quinn, I’m just so sorry... about your hair... I will fix it. I promise... no... crap, I have to go.”

  The message finished.

  Quinn scowled down at her mobile, what the...? Her hair? Oh Goddess, something to do with her hair. She raced into bathroom, gripping the edge of the sink... No! No, no... No! Her hair! It was back to its natural colour... When? How?

  Damn, her silvery blue eyes sparkled, her skin looked lustrous and even her lips appeared a deeper pink. And in this outfit, with that platinum colour, even with her mass of locks plaited back, she looked feminine and kind of... sexy.

  Crap, what had gone wrong with Aunt Gwen’s spell? The woman had been dyeing her hair for years with nary a problem and now this surprise fail.

  Of course by the sound of things, Gwen’s spell had mysteriously failed across the board affecting all her customers. And whilst her family could be a little rambunctious and eccentric, they were on the whole level-headed, except for... oh my Goddess, Darcy!

  Heavens, most of Aunt Gwen’s clientele who had their hair dyed probably just wanted answers, Darcy would be out for blood. After all, it was common knowledge that Darcy, at the age of seven, had taken a sudden and bone deep dislike of her light brown hair.

  Strong-willed Darcy, and her equally strong-willed mother, Sarah, had proceeded to have a tug of war over the next few months in regards to scarves, hats, and clippers. Anything Darcy could get her hands on to hide or decimate the hair on her head.

  Eventually, they’d reached a wary detente, thanks to a black bobbed Snow White wig.

  But that only lasted a few weeks. Sarah’s attempts to prise the wig away from Darcy had entered into family legend. Two of the more memorable incidents involved Darcy colouring her locks with black shoe polish and on another occasion dumping a pot of black ink over her head. Neither episode had a happy ending for Sarah’s carpet or her best guest towels. And despite all the resulting time-outs, Darcy effectively won the war over the wig.

  The entire community had heaved a silent, thankful sigh when Darcy had been allowed to dye her hair permanently when she turned sixteen.

  Heavens, poor Aunt Gwen. It might very well have turned into a hostage situation by now.

  Quinn abandoned the bathroom and her reflection in a mad rush. Scooping up fingerless leather gloves the same colour as her tan skirt, pulling them on with quick efficient moves before grabbing her bag and heading for the hall linen closet which also operated as her Translocator. She might be needed at the hair salon to mediate, at the very least talk Darcy down from an icy bout of killing rage.

  Quinn pressed her fingertips to the closet door and pictured Aunt Gwen’s hair salon. Blocked. Busy. Damn. Were even more people flooding in to join the crowd, demanding answers and expecting Aunt Gwen to resolve the problem then and there? Had the over eager mob turned nasty? No, not her family. But they could get loud, stubborn and difficult to control en masse.

  Quinn searched her bag for her mobile, dialling Gwen’s number, also busy.

  Grrr, this was her life of late. Running wildly from family emergency to emergency. Didn’t anyone else think there was a growing problem at the Sanctuary? Something wrong with the magical gri
d that covered the region providing protection and power?

  Quinn had been working on an untested theory that the grid was not only increasing in strength but was also experiencing frequent, forceful, and unexplainable power surges. Just look at the increase in her patient load of late.

  Family members who were long time trained professionals were seeking her out having difficulty controlling their magic. For some it was just an increase in their strength, their power. For others though, there were inexplicable changes, whole new magical abilities. Which were too often proving unsettling and all too challenging to adapt to at this mature stage in her client’s life.

  Of course, this failure of Aunt Gwen’s magic might refute the theory she had been forming. Perhaps there were troughs too. Which would make what ever was going on with the grid perfectly normal. Peaks and troughs, perhaps affected by the tides or celestial movements.

  Quinn wasn’t an expert on the grid and how it worked. Perhaps she should follow up with someone who was, like Great-Aunt Rebecca, who sat on the High Council. In the mean time though, she needed to get to the hair salon and potentially head off a riot.

  This time when she pressed her fingertips to the doorknob she received the all clear signal. Thank the Merciful Lady above. Stepping inside she closed the door, took a deep breath, ready to face the angry horde and stepped out to the sounds of... soft laughter and mellow music? What the…? The scent of orange and geranium intermingled with coffee and an array of heavy perfumes.

  The salon was packed. But not with an angry mob, with customers.

  Every chair was full, along with the three in the waiting area. Her young cousin, Brynn, was standing behind the small reception desk, phone to her ear, scribbling in the appointment book. Brynn’s twin sister, Chase, was at the sinks, manning the shampoo station. Whilst their mother, Gwen, flitted from chair to chair, checking on hair foils, peaking under caps, all the while smiling and making small talk. Her cheeks were flushed. Her short, ragged, choppy white hair sporting one bright blue streak falling over her left ear.

  “Quinn, dear.”

  Quinn glanced down to find her glove covered wrist had been captured by the occupant of the nearest seat. “Adelaide?” Great-Great-Aunt Adelaide was here getting her hair dyed? After Gwen’s magic had gone haywire? Adelaide, who took great pride in her swathe of lustrous white locks? This was not making any sense.

  “You’re looking radiant, darling. New skincare range?”

  “Um, no.” Quinn was beyond confused. What was going on here? Where was the angry mob? Where was a raging Darcy?

  “Well, whatever it is you are doing, keep it up. You look gorgeous.”

  “Um, thankyou. I’m really surprised to see you here. I didn’t know you had your hair dyed.”

  “This is my first time. It’s fun.”

  “But... Gwen’s magic...?”

  “I know, I can’t wait to see what colour I turn out to be. When Terence woke up this morning looking all salt and pepper - George Clooney - scrumptious, I realised I would have to lift my game to keep up with him. I’m thinking of adding a new character into my latest novel, an older gentleman, with the exact same shade of hair.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Quinn cut her Aunt off. Once Adelaide began talking about the erotica novels she wrote with the help of her husband there was no getting the woman off the topic. Worse, she had a tendency to get very graphic and overshare way too much in regards to the sex scenes. “Gwen... can I speak with you for a moment?”

  Gwen’s head shot around, the smile disappearing from her attractive face as she eyed her niece. Petite and gorgeous, Gwen was rocking faded, tight, blue jeans, a filmy yellow top and matching wedge sandals. Her toenails painted black, dotted with yellow daisies.

  “Quinn.” Her Aunt dashed across the room, grabbing her niece by the elbow and shuffling her sideways, into the dubious privacy of the back room. The small room had a table with two chairs, a sink and a deluxe coffee maker off to one side, whilst on the adjacent wall, shelves were stocked full of fluffy towels, and haircare products. “I’m so sorry.” Gwen reached up to smooth back a wisp of Quinn’s hair that had come loose at her temple. “Such a gorgeous colour... but I know how you feel about it.”

  “Gwen, what the hell is going on? I thought an angry mob was storming the salon.”

  Gwen laughed. “That’s what I thought as well. Turns out they were just over eager customers who wanted me to open early.”

  “Your magic failed and everyone rushes in... only in my family.” Quinn rolled her eyes.

  “Honey.” Gwen unconsciously twirled the lock of coloured hair that framed the side of her face, making her eyes sparkle and her natural hair colour look extra white and shiny. “My spell didn’t fail so much as... well, I think it mutated.”

  “I’m not sure if you are aware, but in the scientific community, mutated is generally not considered a desirable state? Why is your hair still dyed?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’ve seen several customers now so I have an idea of what happened. When I brew the hair dye I use, I’m limited by the client’s instructions and my ability to transfer the colour I perceive in my head into reality. For instance, Daphne’s colour, that bright red she insists upon was way too garish for her complexion but no amount of gentle hints or threats on my part could change her mind. This morning when she woke up, Daphne’s hair was still red, but three shades deeper. She’s never looked better and even she admits that it makes her look younger. Just like Terrence, his natural hair colour is white but he always wanted me to colour it a rather unrealistic solid brown. Suddenly he’s salt and pepper and Adelaide’s going around making yummy sounds and talking about George Clooney.”

  “And Darcy?”

  “Her hair colour didn’t change one iota.”

  “So...?”

  “So I think my spell mutated. I always want my clients to look their absolute best... and now they do.” Gwen twirled the bright blue lock in her hair. “Yesterday, this was red. Today it’s the exact shade of my eyes... a colour I might add, that I have never been able to perfectly match before.”

  “What about me? Can you fix it?”

  Gwen grimaced. “Truthfully, there’s nothing to fix, you’ve never looked better, even if it is your natural hair colour. But I understand because of your youth and profession you want to project a more mature image. Problem is, I’m booked solid for the next two months... And, I’m really not sure as the spell stands if I can fix you.”

  “I could just grab a box of hair dye from the chemist and follow the instructions.”

  Gwen shook her head. “Won’t work. The spell repels any noxious chemicals along with dirt, oil and sand... hey, I thought I was doing everyone a favour when I came up with the potion.”

  “Fine.” Quinn chuffed a soft sigh. “But will you call me immediately if you discover a way to change it?”

  “Of course... now I have to get back out there. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Quinn forced a smile. The fact that she had returned to her natural hair colour was a little unsettling and potentially put her one step closer to making the anomaly come true. “I don’t suppose you have time to cut it all off?”

  Gwen laughed as if Quinn had made a joke. “As if I’d cut that gorgeous mane, even if I wasn’t booked solid.” She patted Quinn on the shoulder and hurriedly exited the break room.

  Quinn slowly unclenched her gloved hands. Breathe... just breathe. Okay, this didn’t change anything. She would just keep following her schedule and rules. She hadn’t bumped into Matias Yanez... let alone glimpsed him from a distance since that day at the bar a year ago.

  There was no reason to think something as inane as the colour of her hair would have any impact what so ever on her carefully managed, perfectly balanced life.

  Hmmm, just to be on the safe side though, maybe she should increase the off-limits area around the Five Alarm Bar to two blocks... better make that three.

 
Chapter Three

  Back at home, Quinn had just enough time to apply some lip gloss before turning around and heading right back to the Translocator.

  Okay, first patient of the day. Nell, her cousin the doctor, had pretty much strong-armed her into accepting their cousin Gaia on to her roster. But Nell had been typically unhelpful with the exact nature of the issue. Claiming she didn’t want to sway Quinn’s assessment of the problem. Though she had said something cryptic along the lines that she would need to watch her step.

  As if that were news. The entire Sanctuary community was aware of Gaia’s quest to get pregnant. A long and fraught two year experience for everyone. Involving tears, tantrums, and increasingly desperate mundane and magical measures.

  Secretly, Quinn had wondered whether it was Gaia’s competitive nature that had been the blocker. For some reason, Gaia believed since she was the first to be melded, following Great-Aunt Alma’s return to the fold, that it was important she achieve all the firsts.

  The strangest thing about Gaia’s obsession was that she held the firm belief that her closest competitor in the BabyMama stakes was their cousin, Hadleigh. Two more different individuals did not exist.

  Unfortunately, the fact that both women had announced they were pregnant within hours of one another had, if anything, confirmed Gaia’s fears and increased exponentially her burning desire to give birth first.

  Hadleigh’s mother, Lucy, had been heard to complain that Gaia had started stalking her. Turning up everywhere she went, asking rather personal questions concerning the exact gestation period for each of her four children.

  The grapevine reported the stalking had lessened following the intervention of Gunther, Hadleigh’s father, who denied any interest in the matter. But the incredibly co-incidental two day non-stop lightning storm over Gaia’s farm seemed too timely. And since Gunther could shoot lightning bolts from his fingers... well, a toddler could do the math.