“Ah, that’s a really long story, Monsignor.”
“And would it explain the aura of your friend who hasn’t introduced herself?”
“What?” My aura? What was he talking about? “I’m sorry, Monsignor, please forgive my manners, but I am Therese Sylvan, my friends call me Tess.”
“I’m pleased to meet you Tess. Now how about an explanation of your aura?”
“It’s nothing special. I’m a friend of Cris,” I said.
“Come now, I may have one foot in the grave, but I still recognize a Wanderer’s aura when I see one. Although, seeing it in a woman is surprising. I thought all of you were male.”
I felt butterflies set up shop in my stomach and wished I hadn’t had such a large breakfast. “Oh, I didn’t know you knew about the Wanderers. My apologies for that assumption. I should have known that anyone who could help us would know about many things,” I said, trying to sound as if I were in the presence of someone greatly more experienced than I was. It wasn’t difficult; the Monsignor looked to be in his eighties and from what Cris and Rafe had said. He would have to be a powerful white magic wielder.
“And the man with you earlier, another Wanderer perhaps?”
“Yes sir, my mentor, Raphael Semmes.”
“Ah, and what brings the three of you to see an old man. Mister Semmes aura perhaps?”
“Yes sir, but he should probably explain the circumstances himself. He knows a lot more than I do and I wouldn’t presume to speak for him on anything important.”
“Very well, we’ll get the truth from the horse’s mouth.” He turned toward the woman who had first greeted us. “Beverly, would you please ask Mister Semmes to join us? He shouldn’t be standing around in the driveway in the first place.”
“Yes, Monsignor, straight away,” Beverly said. I heard her walk to the front door, open it, and go outside, leaving the door open.
The Monsignor leaned back in his leather chair and steepled his fingers. He looked from me to Cris and then spoke, “Miss Ronue, how is Abigail getting along? I heard there was a bit of a ruckus in Huntsville last year and as I remember there was a lot of magic involved.”
“She’s well, Monsignor. I spoke to her this morning in order to get your address. The trouble last year was put right by Rafe,” Cris said.
“Ah, and Miss Sylvan…”
“Yes?”
“You and your mentor were the ones who stopped the breakout in Colorado last November, were you not?”
Of course, Rafe and my pictures had been all over the news since then. While we’d tried to keep a low profile as far as being photographed again, there were still “sightings” of us all over the country. It was embarrassing to Rafe. He’d always tried to stay out of the public eye.
“Mostly Rafe,” I said. “I helped, but I’m really new at the Wanderer gig.”
“Modesty is a rare feature among Wanderers,” the Monsignor said. “Perhaps your mentor is doing a better job with your training than some others I’ve known.”
“I wouldn’t know about that, sir. Rafe is the only Wanderer I’ve known.”
There were footsteps behind me, but I recognized the clunk of Rafe’s boots on the hardwood floor. A few seconds later, I felt his hand on my shoulder. The familiar feeling of him starting a meshing with me came and we fell into it in a few seconds.
Immediately, I realized he wasn’t apprehensive about meeting with the Monsignor, but he was doubtful if the priest could actually help him.
“Mister Semmes, so good of you to join us. I must say that I was surprised when Beverly told me there was someone with black patterns in his aura at the door. I was afraid an old enemy was back to do me harm.”
“I’m sorry to have to disturb you, Monsignor. The blackness in my aura is the reason we came to see you. I’ve gotten contaminated by some night magic spell and I can’t seem to get rid of it.”
“Ah, straight to the point. I appreciate that more and more as my age increases. Well, Mister Semmes, we’ll see what we can do about helping you. The hero of the Colorado breakout deserves what help us mere mortals can provide.”
I felt Rafe’s embarrassment at the praise and had to force myself not to smile.
*Take the compliment, Boss. You deserve it.*
He gave my shoulder a light squeeze and I raised a hand to rest it on his.
“Thank you, Monsignor, but I was just doing my job.”
The white haired old man started to say something else, but he hesitated and apparently changed his mind. “That’s interesting.”
“What’s that?” Rafe asked.
“When you touched Miss Sylvan, there was a melding of your auras. I’ve heard of Wiccans and some other magic users joining their auras, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it done before. Is this something you do often?”
I felt Rafe shrug. “We mostly do it for training or for fighting. It helps immensely with training and facilitates communication in battle. I guess we do it more than necessary.”
“You needn’t apologize. I was just surprised. The darkness in your aura did not blend with hers. I find that curious and it even seemed to lessen when you touched.”
“I hadn’t realized that,” Rafe said.
“It may mean something, but maybe it doesn’t. We shall see.” The Monsignor rose to his feet, slowly, as if in pain. “If you will follow me, we will see if there’s anything I can do to assist you.”
Cris and I stood and moved to the side to allow the Monsignor to pass. Without his glamour, the old man didn’t move as well to my eyes. He didn’t use a cane, but
