I grin and reach for her hand. I find myself constantly reaching for her, needing to touch her. To reassure myself that she’s here, and that she’s whole.
“Thanks.”
“You just planted it out of the goodness of your heart for other members of the coven?”
“Yes, and no. My property is quite big, and I’m not the type who enjoys mowing the grass all the time.”
“You planted special herbs and flowers because you don’t like to cut the grass? I might have been born at night, but it wasn’t last night.”
I laugh and make a right turn. “I don’t want to freak you out.”
“Now you don’t want to freak me out?”
“Okay, point taken. You’ve planted a garden like that one many times over the past several hundred years. I know what you prefer to grow, where you like it, and I planted it myself because I hoped that the day would eventually come that I’d share my home with you again. And, if you want to get extra weird, I will admit that the house I live in now is the same one we lived in together. Before.”
I risk a glance in her direction and see her staring ahead, likely processing what I’ve told her.
“Whoever owned the house after us tore out your garden, but when I bought it back, I replanted it.”
“Why can’t we be a normal couple?” she asks. “Just a normal, run-of-the-mill couple, who likes to have sex all the time and watch old eighties movies. Maybe pick up a hobby together, like bowling or skiing.”
“There’s no skiing in Louisiana,” I remind her.
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t know why. And, honestly, I wouldn’t change it. Because I think you’re amazing, and spending ten lifetimes with you is more than what most people get with those they love.”
“You’re quite sweet,” she says. “In every memory I have, you’re protective and affectionate and just good to me.”
“There’s enough shit in your life, darlin’. You don’t need any more from me. And shouldn’t one be kind to their beloved? Shouldn’t I treat you as if you’re a treasure? Because you are. I know that makes me sound ridiculously old fashioned, and maybe a bit too mushy, but it’s true. I’m not one to be an asshole to the one who means the most to me. Especially when I never know how long we’ll have together in a lifetime.”
“It’s not mushy.” She kisses my hand. “And I was thinking just last night that I’m done wasting time, Lucien. What we have is too precious to waste. If you want me to move into your home, our home, with you, I will. Sanguine and I can move over today, and we can slowly shift the majority of my things over a little at a time.”
“I’ll hire movers,” I suggest.
“We have a coven of people who’d love to help,” she reminds me. “And I’ll take them up on it. We’ll make it work.”
“Thank you.” I park in front of Daphne’s store, cut the engine, and turn to Millie. “I mean it.”
“I know.” We lean in and kiss, then nuzzle noses before getting out of the car and walking to the front door of Reflections, Daphne’s antique store. Brielle unlocks the door and lets us in.
“Everyone’s here,” she says as we follow her to a little cluster of couches on the showroom floor where Cash is already seated. Brielle joins her husband, and Millie and I sit on a green velvet sofa across from them. Daphne paces the room, chewing on her thumbnail.
“You okay, Daph?” Millie asks.
“I’m agitated,” she replies. “And, honestly, I’m freaked the hell out.”
“Sit,” Brielle says. “Let’s talk this out.”
Daphne sits in a pink armchair and smiles as she settles in. “A spinster woman owned this chair, and she enjoyed knitting and soap operas in her old age. She’s quite the character.”
“How can you own this place?” I ask her, intrigued. “Knowing that every single thing you bring in and touch will be a psychic event, and you’ll never know if it’s benign or sinister?”
“I have shields,” she answers. “And a process to go through. Sometime, after all of this is over and we have free time on our hands again, you can come by, and I’ll explain it to you.”
“I’d be fascinated,” I reply with a nod. “And I’ll take you up on that.”
“First,” Cash says, getting right down to business, “let’s talk about a dead serial killer who still has it out for these three women.”
“Such a fun topic.” Millie quirks a lip. “I think we can all finally agree that the man we saw dead on the street, and the severed body parts that have shown up, are his work. I don’t know how, but it has to be him. He’s also left blood smears for us to find. He’s back to taunting us. Or, me, anyway.”
“My dreams are changing,” Daphne says. “I didn’t want to mention it before until I knew for sure, and it’s not the same as it was when Brielle was the focus. Then, I simply stepped into her dreams and watched as if it was a movie.”
“What’s it like this time?” I ask.
“Millie’s always had the dreams.” She looks at her sister. “Even when we were small, her dreams frightened her, and she’d come find one of us to sleep with.”
I hold Millie’s hand more tightly at the thought of her as a frightened child.
“I’ve never really been a dreamer, that’s not my gift,” Daphne continues. “Nor is it Brielle’s. But, for some reason, I start to dream whenever he starts making an appearance. So now I’m going back in time, obviously to previous lives.”
I
