by Bailey Cates
* * *
The smell of fresh water, bright with minerals and promise, teased my nose. Inhaling deeply, I slowly walked down the stone passageway, trailing my fingertips over the wet rocks. The light at the other end beckoned to me. Everything felt strange and familiar at the same time. I was in a place that was both extraordinary and homey. A part of me was aware that I’d been there before.
My long velvet skirt swished around my ankles. My light slippers made no sound on the stone floor. I looked down and saw I was carrying a large, elaborately scrolled key. It had let me into this place, and it would let me out again.
I reached the end of the passageway. An open door invited me into a room I’d always known. I stepped inside and smiled as my gaze ran over the shelves lined with all manner of bottles and jars, lidded boxes and hanging herbs. A scarred wooden table flanked with two long benches took up the center of the room. Another door led out to a lush garden and the world of possibility, but my attention was drawn to the fire crackling cheerfully in the fireplace and the woman who sat on the stool by the spinning wheel there, her face lit up with pleasure as she watched me.
Nonna?
And then . . .
I’m dreaming. This is a dream. Wait! This is a dream! I did it!
My grandmother’s face broke into a wide smile, and she nodded. “Yes. This is a dream.”
“Are you real?” I asked.
“What do you think?” She rose and walked toward me.
She looked the same as when I’d last seen her when I was nine years old. Her hair was long, a dark red like mine but with vibrant white streaks in it. It fell over her shoulders and the brocade bodice of her Renaissance-style dress. Her laugh lines deepened, and her bright green eyes danced as she held out her arms to embrace me.
Stepping back, she looked down at her dress. “This is a nice touch,” she said.
“I don’t understand.”
“This is your dream.” She waved at my own gown and what I suddenly realized were my own long red locks. “You apparently have a hidden romantic streak.”
My fingers stroked my sleeve, appreciating the soft pile of the velvet. “Hmm. Maybe.” I looked up. “I’ve been here before. On the shamanic journey Dad brought me on to recover my magic.”
She nodded. “This is your hedgewitch’s kitchen.”
“Is it real?”
My grandmother shrugged and settled onto one of the wooden benches. “We’re here, aren’t we?”
I sat across the table from her. “Why are we here?”
“Well, you did prime the pump for lucid dreaming with your spell.”
“That’s all I needed to do to reach you?” I let out a breath. “I wish I’d known.”
“Hmm. It might work again. I don’t know. But you needed help, even if you didn’t know you were asking for it.”
“Are you talking about finding Tucker Abbott’s murderer?”
“Pfft.”
I blinked. “You don’t think that’s important?”
“It’s not why you called me here.”
“Do you know who killed him?”
Nonna sighed. “I find you when you need me, Katie. Your mother and aunt as well. They don’t get into the shenanigans you do, however, so they’re not as much work.”
“Sorry.”
She waved that away. “You have been asking for my help without realizing it. That’s why I’m here.” She stood and walked over to one of the shelves. After perusing several items, she took down a box and brought it back to me. “This is what you need. Put it on your bedside table, and it will disrupt the flow of dreams from others to your mind.”
I opened the box. Inside was a necklace. Puzzled, I drew it out. The silver spirals interlocked, creating a chain. The spirals were dotted with amethyst and another type of stone. Gray, shiny, metallic looking.
Pointing to one, I asked, “What are these?”
“Polished hematite,” she said. “It works well with amethyst crystal. Lucy might have told you this, but you never really confided in her about your new ability.”
It was true. I hadn’t told Lucy about being able to sense dreams after I’d regained my magic.
I returned the necklace to the box. “Can I bring it back from here?”
Nonna smiled. “You darling thing. No, but you don’t have to. I’ve taken care of it.” She moved to look out the door.
I rose. “Wait. Don’t go yet.”
She turned back.
“I, um . . . I don’t know if I want to block the dreams. Not yet.”
A frown graced her high forehead. “Why not?”
“Because it’s the only way I can contact Connell.”
She came back and sat down at the table. “Ah, that Connell. What a hoot he is!”
“He’s gone.”
She frowned. “What do you mean, gone. Where did he go?”
I explained that he’d helped me retrieve my lost magic, but in the process had been whisked away to who-knew-where. “Do you know where he could be?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t.”
“I can read him in Declan’s dreams. I thought you knew.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t call on me for that.”
“Maybe I did,” I said. “We were in contact earlier this evening. He said he’s lost. It sounds like some kind of purgatory. He can’t get back. He says he’s not in pain, but he wants to come home. And Nonna, Declan needs him to come back. I need him to come back for Declan. And it sounds like there might be a way to make that happen.”
Obviously curious, she leaned forward. “How?”
“He said he needed some breadcrumbs to follow back. That we needed to send another spirit, I assume to leave the breadcrumbs, whatever those might be.”
Nonna sat back. “Breadcrumbs? Good goddess. What was the man talking about?”
I felt my shoulders slump. “I thought you’d know.”
A speculative look settled across her face. “I might. Let me do some checking. I wouldn’t want to attempt such a thing without a tether of some kind, but I think it can be done.”
“A tether?”
“Something to keep me from getting lost while I’m trying to find Declan’s leprechaun.”
I felt the blood drain from my dream face. “Oh, no. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“We’d need to find the right anchor. Someone who is comfortable on both sides of the veil.”
“Like a medium? I don’t know where the one who triggered Connell in Declan the first time is right now.”
“I’m not sure exactly what we’d need. Let me do some checking.”
“Checking?” I asked. “With who? Is there, like, some kind of spirit organization over there in spirit world?”
“Pfft. Don’t be silly.” She stood. “You might be right. You might have called me in order to help you find Connell for Declan. I’ll see what I can do.” She gestured at the box containing the necklace. “But that will work, too. Try it. I have to go now.”
I ran over and hugged her again. “I don’t want you to go.”
She patted my back. “I know, honey. But I have to.”
“Can I bring you back with the spell again?”
“It’s only one of the ways you’ve called me. I must say, I do prefer it over the life-and-death situations in the past.”
I laughed. “Me, too, Nonna . . .”
But she was already out in the garden, then down the path and out of sight.
Thinking I could check what kinds of supplies were on the shelves, I turned back. I was still dreaming, still lucid. And then I realized, I could stay here if I wanted, in this perfectly wonderful kitchen with the fire and potions and anything I might want or need outside the door.
Without Declan. Without Mungo. Without all my friends.
&n
bsp; The prospect suddenly terrified me, and I held up the key I was still holding in my hand and willed myself to wake up!
I sat up in bed with a start, and Mungo bounded to his feet. Declan turned over and reached out a hand to me in the dark.
“You okay?” he mumbled.
“Yeah,” I answered in a soft voice. “Go back to sleep.”
Mungo nuzzled me. I drew him close and put my lips by his little ear. In almost no voice at all, I whispered, “I did it! It works!”
* * *
* * *
The next morning, I woke before Declan as usual. I was anxious to tell him about the lucid dream and what Nonna had told me. I had coffee and fresh muffins ready for him when he finally got up at six. Lucy had told me she and Iris had the Honeybee covered for the day, so I could pop in and out as I needed to stay on top of the wedding preparations. She’d actually tried to get me to take the day off, but I’d insisted on coming in.
Just not for the first baking of the day. It felt odd, but I was happy to hang out with my guy. We hardly ever got to do that. Tomorrow I’d take the whole day off.
As Declan ate and caffeinated his system, I had a second cup of coffee and related what had happened after he’d gone to sleep the night before.
“You think that was real? The thing about getting some kind of medium to help find Connell?” he asked.
“The dream was a dream,” I said. “But I think the advice from Nonna was real. After all, it was a medium who brought Connell to the forefront of your consciousness in the first place. The séance?”
He gave me a look that said he didn’t need to be reminded.
“She thinks it can be done. Honey, that’s real progress. We’re going to find Connell and bring him back.”
His gaze shifted to the side. “You really think so?”
I realized he was reluctant to allow himself to hope. It broke my heart that he missed Connell so much. Reaching over, I took his hand in both of mine and squeezed. “Look at me.”
He did, his eyes searching.
“Yes. I really think so. As soon as we’re married and things settle down a tad, I’m going to bring in all the expertise of the spellbook club and Nonna and anyone else I can think of, and we’re going to find that crazy leprechaun spirit of yours and haul him home for you.” I held his gaze. “I promise. Hear me? I promise.”
I felt him relax and knew he believed me. Now I only had to figure out how to keep my promise. But I would. Somehow, I would.
Letting go of his hands, I sat back. “I’m going to try putting hematite and amethyst on the bedside table for a few nights and see if that works.” I held up my hand. “I won’t keep them there all the time, not until we get Connell back, but I want to test them.”
Declan said, “I dreamed of Connell last night.”
“You did?” I leaned forward.
“But he didn’t give me any information. He was walking through a thick forest on a tiny little path. I tried to talk to him, but it didn’t work. I don’t think it was a lucid dream.”
“Did you know you were dreaming at the time?” I asked.
“Kind of. It’s different than before, though.” Suddenly he shook his head and rose. “I have to get going. John still needs to pick up his tux.”
Declan’s groomsmen included Randy Post and Scott Lynde from the firehouse as well as his brothers-in-law, both of whom he’d been friends with for years. It fit with Eliza’s idea of tradition but didn’t help my case of having the spellbook club stand up with me.
I kissed him goodbye and went to shower before going in to work.
Chapter 23
I arrived at the Honeybee luxuriously late, played with some of the decorations planned for the cupcake wedding cake we’d be making the next morning, and caught up on some of the office work that had been piling up. In the early afternoon, I headed over to the Hair Connection to hang out with everyone getting mani-pedis and facials.
The next two hours were spent among the women I liked best in the world while we were being exfoliated, smoothed, plucked, soaked, scrubbed, buffed, and polished. Vera Smythe, the owner of the salon, and her assistant Zoe moved among us with practiced ease.
Even though I’d arrived after everyone else, they finished with me first—at my request. That morning I’d received word from Vintage Event Rentals that they would be delivering the furniture and awnings at two that afternoon. Declan would be there, too, but I wanted to make sure everything ended up just right.
“Are you sure you have to go?” my mother asked.
“Yeah,” Lauren said. “This is supposed to be for you.”
Donning my flip-flops so as not to disturb the fresh coat of polish on my toenails, I said, “This is supposed to be for everyone. I’m as pretty as I can be for right now—and I don’t want to leave the setup responsibility entirely on Declan’s shoulders.”
I’d said goodbye to the giggling gaggle of ladies—Vera had broken out the wine by then—and was leaving when Eliza came up.
“Katie? Mind if I go with you? I’d love to help if I can.”
I hesitated.
She smiled tentatively. “I promise I won’t get in the way or try to boss anyone.” Her fingers gestured subtly to where the others were talking and laughing. “But I need a little more quiet than this.”
Of course. She’s an introvert through and through.
“Sure. Come along. You haven’t been in the carriage house yet, have you?”
Relief infused her features. “No. I’d love to see it. Thank you, Katie.”
I gave her a one-armed hug. “Of course. We have to stop by the bakery and pick up Mungo on the way.”
A burst of laughter followed us out the door.
* * *
* * *
The delivery van was already at the carriage house, and men were ferrying items from it through the open back gate to the backyard. We got out and went around the house to see how things stood.
A long table was set up in front of the far garden. They’d already arranged a white trellis-looking fence between it and the vegetable garden behind it. As I watched, an awning came up over by the fence that separated our yard from the Coopersmiths next door. Declan was supervising the operation, and I went over to join him. Eliza went off to look at the gardens, though I saw her watching the setup and trying to look like she wasn’t.
“Hey, darlin’,” Declan said, slipping his arm around me.
“Hey. This looks great.”
“Yeah. It’s all coming together. I think the other awning should go over in that corner, don’t you?”
I considered, then nodded. “That should work. The company is providing strings of old-fashioned Edison bulbs. We can string some in there.”
“Katie! This is so exciting!”
I turned to see Margie barreling toward me. “What can I do to help? Anything?”
“Thanks,” I said. “I think we have it under control. I’ll let you know, though.” I looked around. “Where are the kids?”
“Playing in the backyard.” Margie waved in the direction of her house. Then she snapped her fingers. “Oh! I know! I’ll make lemonade for everyone!”
“Um, you don’t have to—”
She cut me off. “Don’t worry. It’s a mix. Even I can do that.” With a grin, she turned and marched back home.
Declan laughed. “Well, I could use something cold to drink.”
One of the delivery guys approached. “Miss? Where would you like the chairs lined up?”
“Ah, let’s not line them up,” I said, moving away from Declan. “Let’s arrange them in conversation groups. Oh, and I see you brought extra tables. Those small ones can go along the edge with more chairs, so people will have someplace to put their drinks.”
The next hour I spent directing and arranging and rearranging. Mungo took o
ne look at the chaos and went next door to play with Baby Bart and the JJs. Margie brought out the lemonade, which was cold and sweet and tart in the heat of the day, and I thanked the drink mix gods that she’d thought of it. Once things were settling down, I realized I hadn’t seen Eliza for quite a while.
Probably checking out the carriage house.
I opened one side of the French doors and went inside. “Eliza?”
There was no answer. In the living room, I paused and peered toward the kitchen. A small noise above made me look up.
Eliza was gazing down at me from the loft with wide, surprised eyes. She stood in front of the secretary’s desk Lucy had given me. The front was open, and there was my altar for all to see.
Well, not all. But Declan’s oldest sister had certainly seen it. The sister I’d joked to Mungo only a couple days earlier about what she’d think if she knew I was a witch and he was my familiar.
Not sure whether to be angry or try to explain to her what she was looking at or try to diffuse the situation with humor, I climbed the stairs to the loft. Mostly I was tired. When I reached the top, she moved aside. I pointedly closed the desk and faced her.
“Oh, Katie. I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know. I was looking around the beautiful little house, and I came up here.” Her hand went to her throat. “I wasn’t snooping, honest I wasn’t. I just love this kind of desk and wanted to see . . . I’m so sorry.”
I sighed. “It’s okay.”
Before I could say more, Declan called from below. “Eliza? Mother’s on the phone. She wants to talk to you.”
In a low voice, she said, “Please don’t worry. I’d never tell a soul.” Quickly, she started to scramble down the stairs. When her head was level with the floor, she turned back.
“It does explain a lot, though.” And then she was gone.
I opened the desk and surveyed what she’d seen. If she knew anything at all about magic or Wiccan practices, it was enough to know I was a witch.
A witch about to marry her little brother. Did I need to worry?
There wasn’t much I could do, though. I’d have to trust that she’d keep her word and hope for the best.
