Page 69 of Bewicched

I thought about it a moment. “Yeah. The company is… appreciated.”

Pushing through the front door, I breathed deeply and tried to clear my head. Sometimes, often really, I wished I could teleport back to my cannery.

“Arwyn?”

I turned at my name and found Sam and Clive sitting in their car.

“We were going to head out but then Clive heard you coming.” She stepped out of the car and then Clive was suddenly beside her. The man moved faster than my eye could track. “I’m just so grateful. I wasn’t sure what kind of reception I’d receive here, and you’ve all been so incredibly kind and welcoming.”

I stuffed my hands in my pockets, suddenly cold. “I can’t believe that in all those visions I had of you, I never got that you were a Corey.” I rubbed my forehead. “Maybe I have a Corey block. Dave said the sorcerer has Corey eyes, but I couldn’t see her when I touched Sylvia. I’m not seeing her in visions.”

“I would imagine,” Clive began, “that for one who can see so much, having a blind spot would be incredibly frustrating.”

“You got that right,” I grumbled. “Apparently, I knew at three what was going to happen to your parents but not that their killer was standing twenty feet away from me.” The wind changed directions and my hair flew into my face, the chill making me shiver.

“Perhaps it’s not a Corey block,” Clive suggested, “so much as a demon or sorcerer block.”

If he was right, how the hell was I going to find the one responsible for all of this?

“You have such beautiful hair,” Sam said. “I can’t do fancy stuff, but I can braid it to get it out of your eyes if you’d like.”

“Oh.” I waved away the need. “I got this.” I pushed my hair back, gathered it all into a handful and then started twisting, creating a long, thick rope, which I then coiled up and shoved down the back of my jacket. Once I buttoned it up to my chin, I had essentially imprisoned my hair.

“Is it okay if we visit again?” Sam asked, still obviously unsure of her footing in Corey Country. “And you’re always welcome at The Slaughtered Lamb. All of you,” she added, looking at Declan.

Clive reached into a pocket and came out with two cards containing their contact information. He gave one each to Declan and me.

The wind changed again and Declan went on alert.

Clive said, “Fire.”

Declan shifted and tore off, his clothes and shoes left in a trail after him. It was so sudden, I jumped.

“He’s right,” Clive said. “I think it’s your place. It’s the right direction and the right combination of scents. You two drive,” he said to Sam. “We’ll meet you there.” And then he was gone too.

Sam and I picked up Declan’s things and jumped into her car. Thankfully, the streets were near empty this late at night.

My insides churned. The cannery was miles away. I was sure they were wrong, but then I remembered the vision about my gallery consumed in flames. My heart lodged itself firmly in my throat. No. Not my gallery. My art. All lost.

While I’d been eavesdropping on a demon, his sorcerer had been setting fire to my home. They knew who I was and that I was looking. Then I remembered the fetish under the old deck. They’d always known what I could do and wanted me gone. First pushing, then burning. What was next?

Sam screeched to a stop in front of the gallery a few minutes later. It was dark. No fire. Two silhouettes came around the side of the cannery, one wolf-shaped. I jumped out of the car, leaving Declan’s stuff on the hood so he could shift and dress if he wanted.

“It’s okay? It wasn’t me?” Relief was just out of reach as the fiery vision kept playing over and over in my head.

“No. It was,” Clive said. “I had just arrived when I witnessed the most extraordinary thing I’ve ever seen.” He shook his head in wonder. “The deck and the back wall of your gallery were engulfed. The flames were moving up the roof. Come.” He beckoned both Sam and me to follow him around the corner.

“See? You can see the blackening of the walls.” He led us past where I’d planned to paint a mural, to the edge of the water, looking at the back of my gallery. “The deck is gone,” he continued. “The walls have some fire damage, but it doesn’t seem too bad. Do you know why?” He looked out to the ocean. “Because a massive wave—had to be forty feet high—swamped the gallery and put out the flames.”

“What?” I followed Clive’s gaze out to the ocean. “That’s impossible. The waves never get that high here.”

Declan walked up to join us, his clothes looking a little worse for shifting. “I think your dad was looking out for you.”

Clive turned at that. “Is your father water fae?” He pointed to the gallery. “The Sea Wicche? That’s you?”

I nodded. “I’ve never met him, but I have an affinity for the ocean, so I assume so. I didn’t think he knew about me, though.” How odd to think he’d known and been watching. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

Charred boards floated in the water. Oh, shit. Cecil! I took off my jacket and stuffed it in Declan’s hand. When I ran to the water’s edge, I heard, “Phone!” I fished it out of my pocket and threw it over my shoulder—one of the three of them would catch it—and then dove in.

---