“Like Dia de Los Muertos.”
Morin nodded. “Sam’s still tethered to this world. Dragging him in wasn’t hard. Now, making him physical again… Well, that took real magic. I’ll show you sometime.”
Cait thought about his offer but then shook her head. “I might skip that lesson. Too tempting. Next thing you know, I’d be reanimating vics to find out who killed them.”
“And spells that strong always take a toll.” Morin’s mouth drew a thin line, and his gaze fell away. “I’ll find the watch.” He turned to move to the other side of the shop.
“Hey, something strange happened. I didn’t find that passage by myself.”
Looking over his shoulder, he spoke as his brows rose high. “Oh?”
“The book fell off the shelf, and the pages opened to that precise page.” She rested a hand on her hip. “Do you know anything about that?”
Morin shrugged. “Heavenly intervention?”
“You don’t believe in Heaven.”
He cleared his throat. “No, I don’t. Perhaps we should save this discussion for another time?” He turned again and hurried toward the staircase.
Cait’s gaze followed him, narrowing. She left the library, winding her way behind the shelves to the small kitchen in the back. The kettle sat on a trivet next to Morin’s earthen pot. She touched the side of the pot, found it still warm, and then took two cups and saucers from his cupboard. Holding a strainer over each cup, she poured the tea. She added honey to hers, a splash of milk to his. Then she glanced at the worktable where the rose quartz crystal ball sat.
He’d said the ball needed charging. If she failed in her quest, at least he’d be able to watch her actions and tell Celeste what had happened.
She walked to the table and picked up the ball from where it sat atop a three-legged silver stand. At the first contact, her palms tingled. Curious now, she walked to the gas stove, turned a knob to light a burner, and held the ball in front of it to watch the flame flicker in the rosy depths.
“Are you here, Mama?” she whispered, casting a glance over her shoulder to make sure Morin hadn’t snuck into the room. The last thing she wanted him to know was that she felt drawn to look. He seemed to think any witch would be eager to expand her skills. The fact she’d turned her back on magic for so long was unfathomable to him. Power was to be embraced, celebrated, envied, according to Morin.
But Cait wasn’t drawn to magic because of any power it might bring to her. Magic was a tool. If misused, it was a dangerous one. Not something she would ever take for granted. She’d seen the damage magic could do.
Her mother had ended her own life, by accident, leaving Cait alone to fend for herself and filled with loathing for the man who’d instigated the spell. She’d only lately acknowledged that Morin wasn’t completely to blame. Cait thought maybe some of that loathing was misplaced. Her mother had taken matters into her own hands and tried to perform a powerful spell.
Had she simply poisoned herself? Or had The Powers decided she’d overstepped her bounds? The possibility was something to consider as she moved forward with her own plan to conquer a demon and defy natural law to take back what had been stolen.
Flames flickered brighter in her ball, and she leaned closer, watching the red and orange light flicker and then swirl, the ball bending light in the natural occlusions of the rock, blending the flame with its pink hues, then flaring again.
She half expected the ball to grow hot but held it comfortably in her grasp, turning it to watch the display of blending light.
“I should ask a question, shouldn’t I?” she asked the ball.
Light continued swirling in seemingly natural movements, apparently unimpressed.
“You don’t like ambiguous questions, do you? I should be more specific. Did my mother show me the book?”
No answer magically appeared, not by vision or changing color.
“Don’t like yes-and-no questions,” she mused. What else could be accomplished by a scrying ball? “Show me the moment.”
The center of the ball darkened, the colors growing murky. Slowly, a picture formed in dancing shadow and light—of her, cheeks a faint rose flame, her eyes flickering green.
Behind her stood a shadow, a figure peering over her shoulder, with long hair trailing downward as she bent.
Her mother. Cait had no doubt from the slender frame and the particular cant of her head. A pose she’d seen often as Lorene O’Connell bent over the kitchen counter while she cut vegetables or ground ingredients for a spell.
Cait held her breath as the figure whipped around, glided gracefully to the bookcase, and lifted a finger to curl over the spine and tip the book to the floor.
“Did you find any answers, Cait?”
Surprise ripped a gasp from her throat. She nearly dropped the ball, lowering it to her waist as she met Morin’s lazy smile. “You wanted me to charge it.”
“I didn’t ask you to. I merely mentioned I couldn’t watch.”
“Well, now you can.”
“No need to get snippy.” His mouth twisted in a rueful smile.
Cait walked back to the workbench and gently replaced the ball on its silver stand. No flames swirled, no colors other than its soft pink hues glinted back.
“Did you see her?”
Cait shot him a glance. “You know my mother’s here?”
A shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I’ve felt her presence. Smelled jasmine at times. She’s here.”
“Why here?” Irritation tightened her hands and she forced them to relax. “Why not with me?”
“I can’t answer that.”
Before she could stop herself, she vented her frustration. “Why doesn’t she show herself to me? I talk to strange ghosts, ones I never met in life. Why not her?”
“Perhaps that’s the question you should ask the ball.”
Cait shook back her hair. “Did you find the watch?”
He held out his hand. A man’s gold pocket watch sat in the center of his palm.
“Is it gold?”
“It’s valuable, yes.”
“A sacrifice?”
“For me. Not you.”
She picked up the watch and stared at the white mother-of-pearl face. The gold hands that clicked through the seconds. The ornate engravings of vines and grapes that surrounded the clock face. “Where did you get it?”
He shrugged. “I’ve forgotten, it’s been so long.”
Not for one second did she believe him, but she let it go. “How do I charge it? If I do it now, will the energy last?”
“Not here.” He shook his head, his dark hair waving against his cheeks. “Charge it once you’re in the hotel. Perhaps even in the elevator. No use letting any energy dissipate before you put it to work.”
She stepped behind the counter and scanned the shelves and drawers. “Have you rearranged anything?”
“If I had, everything would be exactly where it was the next time I looked.”
“Then simple answer, no.”
While she slid open small cubby drawers to peer inside, Morin gathered other items: a set of scales, a mortar and pestle, small vials, and a tin of charcoal.
