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.”
That’s what I figured. She tucked the watch into a front pocket of her jeans. “Your tea’s getting cold.” She picked up her own cup and saucer and headed back into Morin’s shop, straight toward his apothecary’s counter, sipping as she walked because urgency built inside her again.
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.
“I’ll package together everything for each part,” he said, reaching for a basket underneath the counter. “Having bundles will make casting simpler for you once you arrive at the hotel.”
Ignoring the scale, Cait added pinches and handfuls of dried herbs into the mortar. She broke off a chip of benzoin resin, and the scent of vanilla drifted up to her nose. Then she used a knife to cut a chip of frankincense into the mix to mask the aromas of the herbs she blended, lest the demon figure out what she was up to before she could put everything into play. With the pestle she pushed her hand with a twisting motion and ground the ingredients together.
“I’m adding a bowl and paraffin to your basket.”
“Thanks,” she murmured, wetting her finger then touching her blended spell. She sniffed, liked the mingled scents, and then tasted it. An acrid tingle on her tongue. She made a face and wiped her fingers on her jeans. She wasn’t sure why she’d felt the need to taste and sniff, but a feeling of satisfaction filled her.
Instinct guided her, and instinct said the mixture was complete.
Next, she packaged ingredients for the spell to trap the demon, dropping them into a hemp bag.
Morin handed her a wine bottle filled with water. She wrapped it in paper and snuggled it safely into the basket.
“That everything?” he asked, leaning an elbow on the counter.
Scanning the immediate area, she nodded. “I hope so.”
Morin raised a finger. “You need a mirror.”
Cait felt a shiver slither down her spine. “I hate mirrors,” she said, remembering how she’d found Henry Prudoe’s body in one and how she’d broken another after trapping a demon inside it.
“I know. But when you face the demon, he won’t be able to look anywhere but at himself.”
She held still, thinking about what Morin said. When she’d faced the demon who had possessed Leland, he had first greeted her from inside the mirror. She’d thought he was hiding to prevent Sam from seeing him, but maybe his action meant more than that.
Morin rummaged through a cabinet and pulled out a small handheld mirror, the kind a lady might have used to primp in her boudoir.
“It’s tiny,” Cait said doubtfully. “How’s that going to hide me?”
“It’s not the size that matters.”
Biting back a snort, she arched a brow. “When is that ever true?”
Morin laughed.
Cait tucked the mirror into the basket, then covered the basket with a cloth. She had everything she needed. She strode around the counter. As her gaze met her mentor’s, she opened her arms. He’d come through for her again. She owed him now.
Morin smiled, stretching out to accept her quick hug. “Good luck,” he whispered against her hair.
“I’ll need it.” She tightened her embrace one more time and then stepped back, lifted the basket into her arms, and sighed. “Know a spell to summon a cab?”
He shook his head. “Say a prayer to The Powers. Something will turn up.”
He left unsaid, If it’s meant to be…