by Maher Tegan
Understandable. I’d have probably done the same thing in her shoes.
“Did you see anybody else?” Bobbie Sue asked, but she shook her head.
“I mean, there were a couple sets of headlights, but I didn’t pay any attention to them because it’s midnight. Early folks are leaving, and our late-night crowd is stragglin’ in. Nothin’ out of the usual, there, plus I was just runnin’ the trash out. I wasn’t lookin’ for anything out of the ordinary.”
My brain had cleared, and I was able to focus on what was important. “Miranda, did she send somebody to fix your AC today like you told her to?”
Blue and red lights flashed against her face and the side of the building as she gazed at me like a deer in the headlights. The lights gave the scene a creepy, surreal feel that I tried to ignore as I waited on her answer. It would, after all, go a long way toward motive or toward clearing her.
“No,” she said, heaving a sigh. “She didn’t.”
I pressed my lips together in dismay as Hunter’s voice cut through the night. It looked like Miranda was already starting out with two strikes, so as much as I wanted to come clean right then and there and tell him about the vision, I decided Camille was right. Let him get a feel for the scene and talk to people before I gave him information that might color his opinion.
That feeling of being watched swept over me and I looked in the direction it was coming from. Camille was staring at me, her gaze piercing. We had a mental link, and I gave in to the gentle nudge she was giving it.
Do what you want, but I think it’s a bad idea.
Rather than reply, I just nodded.
And I want to take a peek inside your melon. We need to see what’s changed.
Camille was an expert on mind magic. She could remove memories, transplant new ones, and even manipulate existing ones. She could also find new powers and sort of diagnose magical issues if they were mental. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience, but it wasn’t terrible either as long as I relaxed. Not nearly as terrible as suddenly seeing the future. I wanted to know if that was a one-off or if my powers were in flux again. I’d just adapted to the ones I had, and the last thing I wanted was to go through that all over again.
Again, I nodded.
If you’re up for it, tonight would be good. Hunter’s gonna be busy with this and Gabi is staying at Skeeter’s. That means it’ll just be us. Rae will probably want to be there, too.
She didn’t reply, but she didn’t have to. I knew she was as anxious to see what was up as I was. For the last few years, I’d continued to baffle her. Shelby had been the one the angel had touched, but somehow Rae and I had gotten a residual blast, or at least that was the best we could figure.
I sighed and glanced at Rae, who had joined me on the sidelines.
“C’mon,” she said, taking me by the arm. “There’s nothing more we can do here, so there’s no need to stick around.”
“I agree,” Hunter said, and I jumped a little at his voice. “What did you see?”
“Nothing, really,” I replied, trying not to look at the body. “We heard Miranda scream and when we came out, she was standing by Barbie Lee. Everything is exactly like it was when we came out.”
“Okay, then,” he said, and it made me sad that the lines around his eyes seemed deeper. “Go home. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Bobbie Sue and Coralee were still huddled around Miranda lending emotional support, so I nodded.
The last sight I saw before we trudged back inside was Hunter striding toward the little group, his expression grim. Something told me things were going to get much worse before they got any better.
Chapter 7
O n the way home, I explained the vision to Raeann.
“You’re absolutely sure it was exactly what you saw tonight?” she asked, frowning.
I nodded. “Exactly. I thought I was just picking up what she was thinking at the time.”
“So what did Camille say about it?” she asked, staring at me in the glow of the dash lights.
“Nothing. Just that she wants to tiptoe through my gray matter and see what she can find. She was almost as freaked out as I was, though. I’m not sure she believes there isn’t some other explanation.”
“For your sake, I hope there is,” she said, turning her gaze to the darkness outside.
I didn’t disagree. It had taken me forever to learn to block out random comments and thoughts that were flitting through other people’s minds. The last thing I wanted to do was start the process all over. For that matter, I didn’t even know if it was possible to block out visions. I was a kitchen witch and I liked it that way. If I had the choice, I’d go back to those days in a heartbeat, but that water had long since passed under the bridge.
Headlights shone behind us as we pulled into the farm, and I recognized them as Camille’s. She hadn’t wasted any time.
“Hey,” I said once we were all parked and out of the vehicles. “Gabi’s gone, but I’m not sure what Kristen’s doing.” Even though she knew about my magic, I didn’t want her there when Camille did her thing. It felt private, and I wanted to be able to talk freely. She knew I had magic. That didn’t mean she knew about magic, and I was okay with keeping it that way.
“She’s staying with Miranda tonight,” Camille said, pulling open the screen door. “Assuming Hunter doesn’t take her to jail, that is.”
“Assuming Hunter isn’t taking who to jail?” Max pushed up from where he’d been sleeping on the porch and stretched, then gave a big donkey yawn, his fuzzy gray lips pulling back from grass-stained teeth.
“Miranda, a girl who works at Fancy’s,” Raeann explained. “There was a murder, and she had motive. Plus, she found the body.”
“Oh,” Max said as he followed us inside. “That does look bad for her. In my day, they’d have probably just hung her or run her through on the spot.”
I turned to him, brows drawn. “I thought murder in your time was much more acceptable.”
He shrugged. “Yes, but only if you were a noble. And a man. Women and common men weren’t allowed to go around killing people just because. It was a good way to get executed.” His brown eyes took on a faraway look. “I do miss a good public execution.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Camille asked, scowling at him. “You were around for the witch trials and can still say that?”
He returned her glare. “I meant for guilty people. Not for some poor schmuck who happened to be walking by when Brother Ted’s pig keeled over dead. That’s different.”
“Don’t fight, guys!” I said as I flipped on the kitchen light. “We have bigger problems.”
“And what might those be?” Max asked. “Aside from the murder?”
I explained the situation to him.
He pressed his lips together and digested the information. “Visions, huh? That’s a new one. I’ve spent centuries with witches and have never seen anything like what happens in this family.”
“What’s happening in this family now?” My aunt Addy popped into view, floating over the table with her arms crossed over her ample bosom. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back into her usual bun and she was wearing jeans and a floral cotton shirt. “I can’t leave y’all alone for twenty-four hours without things goin’ to the birds.”
I sighed, and she frowned at me. “Okay, I was mostly kiddin’, but now you’ve got me worried.”
“Me too,” I said, then launched into the story.
She didn’t say a word until I was done, and even then, she mulled things over for a few moments before she spoke. “Well, it’s not unheard of in our family. Your great grand-mammy had the sight, but before her, it had been several generations.”
“Yeah, but they got them when they were young, right? Psychic powers don’t just pop in at any old time.” I slid into a chair at the long, farm-style kitchen table so that I was facing Camille.
“Actually,” Camille said, “it’s not as uncommon as you think. We have a theory that
seeing the future requires a certain brain maturity that pubescent teens and even young adults just don’t have. There’s nothing scientific behind it, but it’s the closest we can get to an explanation as to why psychic powers often show up late.”
“But she’s almost thirty,” Rae pointed out.
Max chimed in. “I’ve seen a lot through the ages, and I can tell you some witches don’t even know they have magic until it pops in one day when they get upset or something happens. I once saw a butcher’s wife burn a kingsman to cinders because he came to collect taxes that they didn’t owe. The man had been draining the village for years, and she just snapped. She had to have been at least thirty.” He curled his nose. “Let me tell you, you never want to smell a sixteenth-century kingsman turned to ash.”
Camille rolled her eyes but nodded. “I’m aware of how old she is, and Max is right—those stories are more common than you think. And she’s also experienced a way different path than most witches do. So have you, for that matter. None of us can decide if it’s just that you Flynn’s are weird or if it’s due to all of the challenges you’ve faced.”
“Maybe it’s a combination of both,” Addy said. “It’s not unheard of for women in our family to develop late, so maybe that’s all there is to it.”
“We’re debating a topic that has no answer,” Camille replied. “That’s not helpful to anybody, so let’s get on with following what little science we do have—her brain.”
Oh goody. The fun part.
“You ready?” she asked, turning to me.
“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
“Close your eyes, then,” she said, laying her hand on my forehead.
I took a deep breath and released it, willing my stress to leave my body. It was always easier when I could relax and just let her do her thing. I closed my eyes, and right away, her presence crept into my mind. It felt alien, sort of like somebody was pulling a string through my brain, but it didn’t hurt.
This was the third time she’d done this to me, so I had a general idea of what to expect. That’s why I was surprised when her examination went on for several minutes. That kind of magic had to be exhausting. The ‘string’ slithered through my brain one final time then was gone.
“All done,” she said. “You can open your eyes now.”
I did and examined her expression for any sign of what she saw.
“Well?” Addy asked before I had a chance to. “What did you see?”
Camille shook her head. “I’m not sure, exactly, but there are a couple new pathways in there, and both of them are in the area of the brain typically associated with mind magic.”
“What do you mean, new?” Raeann asked, leaning forward and putting her elbows on the table.
“I mean those pathways were glowing blue and they weren’t in there last time I checked. It was faint, though.” She continued to stare at me like I was a science project even though I knew that wasn’t really how she viewed me.
“Blue’s good, right?” I asked, having no idea whether it actually was or not. “Or is it bad?”
“It’s not really good or bad, I suppose. In a person who has psychic tendencies, they’re normal and they’re much brighter than yours. In a kitchen witch who didn’t have them at all year ago, it’s ... a curiosity.”
“So basically, all it means is that she has psychic abilities, not like her brain’s gonna blow up or somethin’, right?” Addy asked, concern etched on her face.
Camille smiled. “No, I’m not seeing any signs of an impending explosion. It’s just weird is all.” She lifted a shoulder. “I probably wouldn’t have noticed them at all if I hadn’t been looking specifically for them. All your other pathways are normal and lit up like the Fourth of July as always. I say we just wait to see what happens. It could have been a one-off caused by the combination of pending disaster and high emotions.”
“Or it could be a sign Miranda was the one who was destined to kill her,” Raeann said.
“I suppose that’s possible,” Camille said. “But do we really believe she did? I mean, her reaction was real. She was freaked out, and it didn’t strike me as the type of panic somebody who’d just committed murder would exhibit.”
“If you think about it,” Raeann said after a few moments, “Miranda’s a lot of things, but prone to histrionics isn’t one of them. I also don’t think she would have smashed Barbie Lee in the head with a rock, either. Let’s face it—she’s a lot like us. If she was gonna kill the woman, there would have been a lot more damage to Barbie’s face than what there was.”
That was probably the most valid point she could have made.
“I agree,” I replied. “She was spittin’ mad this afternoon. No way she just calmly bashed her head in, and there wasn’t any blood other than on her head from the rock. No busted lip or bloody nose, and believe me, there would have been.”
It was strange that the fact that she hadn’t taken more of a beating was probably a point in Miranda’s favor as far as being a suspect, but it was.
“So are you going to tell Hunter?” Raeann asked.
“It’s up to you, but I think you should wait and see where his head’s at,” Camille said. “For one, you didn’t see anything other than the body, and if it was a true vision, which seems likely, then it most likely stemmed from whatever energy you were getting from Barbie Lee, not Miranda. For another, he needs to focus on the investigation instead of worrying about you.”
That was a good point, but it felt dishonest to me. Hiding things had never worked out well.
“Bull pucky!” Addy said, scoffing. “That boy’s got more than enough space between his ears to handle more than one crisis at a time. ’Sides, I don’t think this is such a big deal, at least not yet. Shoot, you can stop time for cryin’ out loud. A little old vision or two ain’t gonna make no nevermind to you.”
I couldn’t tell if she really meant that last part or if she was trying to be supportive, but whichever it was, it worked.
“No, you’re right,” I said. “I’m gonna tell him. Maybe not tonight because he’s gonna be wrung clear out, but in the morning for sure.”
I picked my phone up off the table to make sure I hadn’t missed any messages and was shocked to see it was almost two. I was wired and not a bit sleepy, and any buzz had worn off when I’d seen the body and realized I’d already envisioned it.
“Okay, kids,” I said, pushing up from my chair, “What say we have another glass of wine to wash down the disaster du jour then call it a night? I have a feeling the next few days are gonna be rough.”
“Amen,” Rae said, rising to get glasses. “I’m glad Levana is opening in the morning. I don’t even think I’m going home.”
I opened a bottle and poured, then added a blurp of Glenlivet to Max’s bowl.
“To making it through the next week with no more calamity,” Camille said, raising her glass.
I clinked mine to hers. “Or to at least not knowin’ about them ahead of time.”
Chapter 8
H unter didn’t get home until almost four, and I was still tossing and turning when he crawled in beside me.
“How’d it go?” I asked, rolling over and propping my head on my elbow.
He sighed. “Not fabulous. Most everybody was inside, and nobody reports seeing anybody going around back. But then again, it was fairly busy. Marybeth does have a security camera back there, but it’s trained on the door and the dumpster. It caught Barbie coming out, but the murder was out of range.”
“So basically, you have nothing,” I said.
“That about sums it up,” he replied, his voice heavy. “Right now, Miranda’s all we have. You saw her today. She wasn’t just mad. That girl had murder in her eyes when she left Bobbie Sue’s, but I talked to her. It doesn’t feel right in my gut that she did it.”
I weighed telling him about the vision, but it didn’t seem like the right time. Instead, what Coralee had told me that day drifted through my mind, and I remem
bered that she’d left before everything had happened. Boy was I going to be in trouble for not calling that one in.
“I might have a lead for you to pick at,” I said. “Coralee told me she thinks Barbie was dippin’ from the till.”
He rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow to face me. “Are you serious? That changes everything. Or at least it could. That means that all of her clients are suspects.”
“Yeah,” I said, cringing, “but I think most of them live out of state, or at least somewhere besides Keyhole. I know the complex Miranda lives in is owned by some corporation. Kristen applied there before she moved in here, and they had this big credit and background process. She showed me the application. Lansing Investments, or Landsdown, maybe. Something like that. I think they were based out of Atlanta.”
“I don’t even know for sure how many properties she manages,” he said. “It was so late that I couldn’t reach anybody at her office.”
“Then get some rest,” I said, tucking my news away for later. Right now, he needed sleep more than he needed something else on his mind. Tomorrow would be another day. “The night’s almost gone already, and there’s nothin’ else you can do now, anyway. Worryin’ won’t solve anything.”
“True,” he said, giving me a kiss before he rolled over. “Night.”
“Night,” I replied, and snuggled in next to him.
I was in that soft place between sleep and awake where dreams and reality merge. My mind drifted and I found myself in the woods between the back pasture and the lake. The unicorn strode beside me as the sun dappled through the leaves, making fluttering patterns on the ground and turning his long mane to gold where it touched it.
“Hey, boy,” I said, putting my hand on his muscular neck. “Here you are again, huh? You know unicorns aren’t real, right?”
“Of course they’re real,” a familiar voice said. I jumped and turned to find my father walking on the other side of me. “Or at least as real as I am.”
