by Candace Colt
"Pfft. Echo Stargazer is a trickster with cheap parlor card games. Even her name is made up. How can you be Evelyn Putnam one day, and become Echo Stargazer the next? And her biggest trick? Passing off that girl as a psychic to get her into Harmswood. The girl has no supernatural powers."
Ryan’s blood pressure traveled along a fuse that threatened to blow a hole through his skull. If there were awards for intolerance, his mother would have a full trophy case.
"Nobody gets through the selection procedures by trickery," he said.
Everyone in town loved Echo and nobody cared what she called herself. And humans with magical gifts had the same right to attend Harmswood Academy as any other supernatural.
"So I assume you will help me. That girl burned a hot torch for him." Solange waved over her shoulder. "Ciao."
Who else but his mother would have the unthinking audacity to mention burning torches in this town?
*~*
To Ryan’s relief, Connor didn’t make the trip into town. Inside the bloody hot Harmswood Academy auditorium, Ryan followed the sounds of hammering and power saws. In a town founded by a family as wealthy as the Ellinghams, why couldn’t they spring for a new AC unit?
And what chaos. An ant colony had more purpose. Who was in charge?
Stepping over gaffer-taped audio cables and in between a dozen workers, he tapped the shoulder of a man operating a jig-saw.
"Can you direct me to the supervisor?" Ryan asked.
The man pointed to someone on a ladder on the stage. "Since you’re going that way, would you take this?" He handed Ryan a plywood cut-out of some indistinguishable entity.
Turning it in all directions, he couldn’t make heads nor tails out of it. Assuming it was an animal with a head or tail.
When he reached the ladder, his eyes trailed up a woman’s slim blue jean clad legs.
Though he chose to live like a recluse, he still appreciated a nice-looking female, and if this view was any indication, there was much to appreciate.
"Excuse me," he said. But she wore earplugs and didn’t hear him.
Since he apparently held a key piece, he waved at her.
Her leather tool belt gently bounced on her curvy hips as she stepped down to join him. She removed her safety goggles and earplugs and offered a tentative smile.
Was that hammering somewhere, or his heart? Glistening in the sweltering room, her creamy skin glowed. "The guy with the saw asked me to bring this," he said.
"The otter. Thank you." She studied him a moment then broke into an engaging smile that burst like spring across her freckled face. "You don’t recognize me, do you?"
Her shirt splotched with paint and sawdust. A reversed ball cap. Didn’t ring any bells. Wait. Freckles? Scrunched nose when she smiled?
"I’m Jess Callahan."
She had a firm, friendly handshake.
So, this is who his mother assigned him to watch. He made a point of thanking her later. Second thought, he’d keep it to himself.
"I guess you remember me," he said.
"Ryan Ford." She brushed her arms and climbed the ladder, nimbly handling the nail gun to attach the mystery piece.
She rejoined him and crossed her arms under her ample breasts. "It looks a little rough. Paint will make all the difference."
Nothing about her looked rough. But he couldn’t say the same for that mismatched shape conglomeration.
He tilted his head from side-to-side. "I still can’t make out an otter." Or any other natural animal in the universe.
Her back stiffened. Not promising.
He tried another tact. "White clouds and blue sky?"
Was he imagining superheated daggers flying from her half-closed eyelids?
"Excuse me, but the Harmswood art club designed this stage." Her words measured through gritted teeth, she looked like someone about to shift to a very agitated animal.
Chapter Three
Swift move, Ford. The advantage to hibernating in his studio was that wooden sculptures didn’t care what he said or how he said it. But people, on the other hand, did.
"That didn’t come out right," he said.
"The kids worked hard on this design. And I happen to like it."
Anger didn’t look good on many women, but on this redhead, it weaved cute with sexy.
"It was a stupid thing to say from someone who just walked in the door. I came to help, so put me to work," he said.
Her face softened, though her still flushed cheeks matched her ginger hair.
"You can finish the side sections." She unfolded a sketch sheet and smoothed it against the wall.
In seconds, he committed the design to memory. He let her keep talking to listen to her lilting voice. Standing this close, he caught her light fragrance. Roses.
She refolded the paper and put it in her pocket. "You ever use a table saw?"
He swallowed his amusement. His love affair with woodworking started in second grade. This was no challenge.
"I have."
"Holler if you need help," she said.
He chose some sturdy plywood from a pile and set to work. In less than forty-five minutes, he measured, cut, made a few embellishments and assembled the pieces.
Jess came up behind him. "You did all this by yourself?"
"Seems I did." From the moment he started any project, time boundaries vanished. Hours and meals passed when he was in the zone.
While Jess fastened the sections on the stage, he held them for her and stole more than one look at her toned arms and firm full breasts. What had happened to the gawky little kid?
"Could hold still? We could get this done a lot faster if you’d pay attention," she said.
Oh, he was paying attention all right. Not to the boards. "Sorry." But not for staring.
Facepalm moment. Which one was the mind reader? Jess or her grandmother? Damned if he remembered. He kept his mouth shut and his thoughts in check.
The aroma of grilled onions and peppers coming from a food truck outside sent his stomach into a happy dance.
This woman didn’t seem to be a threat, nullifying any obligation to his mother. Nor did he intend to miss a chance to spend time with this fine-looking woman. He just hoped Connor stayed away. Far away. Amazon jungle away.
He cleared a nervous throat tickle. "Join me for lunch? My treat."
Bent over, she ran her fingers through her unbraided hair that streamed like silk. Jess cocked her head toward him and squinched her eyes into a curious stare.
Had he sprouted wings? He flexed his arms and fingers. Fully human.
Still bent upside down, Jess’s face lit up, and to his amazement, she righted herself and accepted his invitation.
Dodging workers installing lights in tree branches over an outdoor patio, they found seats at a picnic table. Though the midday sun was as hot as a convection oven, their shaded spot was still cooler than the auditorium.
"Wonder why we haven’t run into each other before today?" Ryan asked.
She wiped a sweat bead from her cleavage. "Unless you’re a regular shopper at the DIY Depot, you probably wouldn’t."
The Harmswood class change bell reverberated across the campus, bringing small talk to a jarring end.
Jess covered her ears until it stopped. "Guess they don’t turn it off for the summer. Can you believe how many times a day that thing rang? Start class. End class. Lunch break. Go home. We marched around like baby ducks."
The only good things about Harmswood were wood shop and art class. Everything else was a distant blur. Including Jess.
Two classes ahead, Ryan only remembered that she was a nice kid, but not a standout. Nothing like this beauty, who along with the whole Harmswood female teenage population, had a crush on Connor.
"How long are you staying in Nocturne Falls?" He watched the growing onion pile Jess picked off her meatball sub. Excellent to add to his grilled Portobello but how would it look to ask someon
e he barely knew for her spare onions?
"I was roadkill from a downsized museum. My headhunter thinks I’ll have a job by October." She pushed her plate toward him. "Help yourself."
"Oh, no. I’m sorry. I couldn’t." Perhaps this was the mind reader.
"Go ahead. You’re eyeing them like a hawk." She covered her mouth. "I didn’t just say hawk. Gypsum jacked up mercy."
Ryan shrugged as he scooped the onions. "Common mistake. Most people can’t tell a hawk from a falcon."
"Well, I can." She wiped away laughter tears. "It was a slip of the tongue."
A sense of humor after all. Keeping tabs on this woman might be easier than he thought. His day had just brightened like a second sunrise.
Jess looked around again, at least the fifth time in the last twenty minutes. "Everything okay?" He asked.
"I thought Connor was supposed to be here."
Chapter Four
"Wait." "Don’t lock us in."
Swathed in a high-end perfume cloud, three women raced downstairs and sped past as Jess told the part-time sales clerks goodnight and started to set the Carpe Diem night alarm.
Another of her grandmother’s group rate sessions. Echo’s talent for marketing matched her knack with the cards.
Upstairs, Jess took a seat at a large table draped with a fringed floral cloth. Clients either left this table in tears or overjoyed. The little ensemble that had scurried out fit the latter. "It went well; I take it."
"I shouldn’t do so many readings in a row. I’m exhausted," Echo said.
Jess took off her work boots and massaged her feet. "I can relate to that."
Next to Echo’s wooden card box, smoky sage wisps rose from an abalone shell, slipping into every crevice of Jess’s memory.
The world was right and grounded when her grandmother burned sage.
"Did your extra workers show up?" Echo asked.
"Yes." And no.
Ryan Ford had been a pleasant surprise. Somehow he’d outgrown his gothy-nerd phase and turned into a nice-looking guy.
Not his fault that she’d been distracted at lunch. She’d jockeyed nervousness about seeing Connor, with disappointment that he never made an appearance.
Echo moved a philodendron plant from the antique pie chest and set it in the middle of the table; then she sat in a high-backed chair that didn’t match the other three, or anything else in the house.
"How’s your thumb?" Echo asked.
Jess hadn’t given it a thought since this morning. "Someday tell me how he did that."
"Simple. He moved Chi."
Naturally. Why had she even asked? Everyone can move Chi. Nana’s mysterious friends.
To give her grandmother more room, Jess pulled on the table, which didn’t move a millimeter. Gripping the table edge, she gave it another full heave. Still to no avail other than raising a howl from below that rattled heaven’s gates. The leg hadn’t caught the rug.
Crealde strolled out and fired a death ray scowl from his mismatched eyes. He plopped in the middle of the room and gave his shoulder an annoyed grooming.
Which side of Alice’s mushroom had Jess bitten? Had she outgrown the house, or was the house closing in on her?
Echo once followed a rule that for each thing that came in, two went out. That had worked for a week, ten years ago.
"Hoarder" didn’t describe Echo. A kinder term was "rescuer." She adopted things. Lamps, chests, chairs, paintings, or objects d’art. There was room in this house for anything if it was frilly, pastel, chintz, shabby and chic.
Echo brushed spilled ashes into the shell. "Before I put these cards away, would you like a reading? On the house." Echo’s giggle tinkled like a spoon against bone china.
Jess pressed her sweaty hands into her knees. Not because she didn’t believe in the cards or her grandmother’s clairsentience. She did. Both her parents had gifts. But what good were they? Nothing prevented them from dying.
The summer after she came to live with her grandmother, Jess’s clairvoyance emerged. Without mentors at Harmswood and her grandmother’s wisdom, the magical gift could easily have become a curse.
"This is your shtick, Nana. Not mine. All I want is something to eat, a long soaking bath, and then dissolve into sleep."
Echo shuffled the cards and set the deck on the table. "You don’t have to if you aren’t sure."
Never sure; always curious. And her grandmother wouldn’t budge until she went through with this.
"One and done," Jess said.
"Set your intention," Echo said. "You can keep the ring on. The cards can’t be blocked."
Not reassuring. Passed down from Jess’s mother, the jade ring blocked all clairvoyant visions.
She kept it on. Always.
On the other side of exhaustion, she doubted the cards cared that sleep was her primary intention.
She opted for a general, easy-peasy, open-ended reading. Let the cards talk to her if they so choose. Otherwise, goodnight and off to bed.
Though it had been years, she remembered the ritual.
Right hand over her heart, feeling each beat’s sharp thump, Jess spread the deck in an arc with her left hand.
Each glossy black card was identical. After a long minute, she pulled one that shimmered.
"Keep your awareness on the card. Observe. Don’t judge. Be present right here." Echo dropped her chin to her chest and shut her eyes. "Now we wait."
Jess tapped her toes against the table leg to stay awake. When that didn’t help, she scooted in the chair, scrunching the tablecloth in her hands.
A sudden chill dusted her skin from scalp to toes.
The chill.
Nana’s go-to method to get her little granddaughter to behave. No timeouts. No second warnings. Grownup Jess rubbed her arms hoping to erase the gooseflesh.
"Be present or it won’t work," Echo warned. "And stop fidgeting."
Okay. One more try. Jess closed her eyes. In seconds, she popped them open as something brushed her cheek.
A bright, translucent orb glided past her face then hovered over her card. Jess gasped as it burst like a soap bubble, raining mist over the table.
Good thing she trusted her grandmother as this verged on creepy. She should be used to strange things happening in this house, but her racing heart was not.
The image on the card sharpened and turned her inside out.
Echo leaned forward. "You saw something. It shows all over your face."
"Nothing. I must be too tired." She shoved the card into the deck, crazy to play this game in the first place.
"What was it? Tell me."
Jess opened her mouth to answer, but the words tumbled into her stomach.
Clear as crystal, an image had seared her brain.
Drawn curtains in a dark room. A faint trace of patchouli. Something sat on a pristine bed. Her grandmother’s bedroom, but no Nana.
Chapter Five
Jess darted like a nervous rabbit as she ran errands downtown.
Yesterday’s image on Nana’s card put her stress in a stranglehold.
What did it mean? A warning? A premonition? Or, guilt?
From the first day, she knew her grandmother had trouble taking care of Carpe Diem. Keeping busy with repairs smothered denial. Until now.
How long until she had the hard talk with her Nana about giving up the Carpe Diem? Then what would become of Echo Stargazer?
Jess had considered staying in town, but there was nothing left here. Childhood friends had either moved away or married with families. So many new faces.
Lifelong story; she didn’t fit in anywhere.
One last stop at Delaney’s Delectables for fresh bread for dinner and Scary Scream Scones for breakfast.
"Excited about judging tonight?" Delaney Ellingham, the owner and proprietor, asked.
Excited? Umm. Not quite. "We’re sold out."
"That’s wonderful news. Our famil
y will be delighted. I even convinced my husband to come to the after party. It’s so hard to get him out of the house."
Make that doubly hard for Jess. Despite Zoey’s and Sierra’s efforts to convert her into a party connoisseur, she would rather stay home and watch how-to videos. Anything other than socializing with strangers.
Those two women held their own anywhere, but a gymnasium half full of dancing supers might create a little situation.
One more thing to add to her shopping list; Nocturne Falls bottled water.
The last stop would be the Hallowed Bean for a coffee. In a rush and juggling the bakery bag and her drink, she scarcely noticed that someone held the door.
With an automatic ‘thank you’ nod, she didn’t make eye contact with her benefactor.
"Jess Callahan. That you?"
A vaguely familiar voice. She stepped aside for a tourist family dressed as skeletons to pass, then looked at the person still holding the door.
A shiny, Vin Diesel bald head; buffed arms like mortar cannons, and that same full-of-himself smirk that every Harmswood female, including her, had adored.
Connor Ford.
Her stomach dropped like granite.
In school, he’d carried himself like a GQ model. Today he’d qualify for ‘Muscle Man Monthly.’ This Connor looked like a guy who never met a mirror he didn’t like.
With him was Ryan in a wrinkled denim shirt, tousled brown hair, and a days-old beard. He looked a bit scruffy but, she reminded herself, he had been a tremendous help.
Who would ever guess these two were brothers?
She locked on Ryan’s brown eyes. "Hello, again."
Ryan responded with a cautious smile. "Good to see you." His low, deep voice caused an unfamiliar stirring in her chest that she couldn’t blame on her untouched caffeine. Gypsum jacked up mercy. Timeout. She had to harness this runaway horse.
Connor pointed to a small café table. "Will you join us?"
Shielding against rapid fire nerves, she dodged eye contact with either brother. "I really should go. Million things to do." So why didn’t her legs take the hint?
"Five minutes? Ryan, snag our drinks. I’ll wait here," Connor said.
