Page 19 of Wicche Hunt

Mom was used to being the biggest and the baddest, and then Gran came along to put her in her place.

“No, thank you, ma’am. I appreciate the offer, but I have to get back to work. I have some men waiting for me.”

“Gran, did we tell you Declan bought the property across the road from The Sea Wicche?” I asked. “He’s a very talented woodworker and he’s opening his own workshop with a retail area.”

“Is that so?” she asked with a gleam in her eye. “Did you hear that, Sybil? This nice young man is staying. Now that we’re neighbors, perhaps you could walk me back to my chair. The years are starting to take a toll.”

“Of course.” He stepped around Mom and took Gran’s arm, walking her back in.

Mom rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “As if she couldn’t run a 5K if she wanted,” she said under her breath.

Hiding a grin, I sidestepped my mother as well and followed Gran and Declan through the house. He was just pushing in her chair at the dining table when I entered. Gran gave me a wink and Declan was clearly trying not to laugh.

Rubbing my shoulder, he said, “Call me if you need a pickup.” Seeing my mother in the doorway, he added, “It’s always nice to see you, Ms. Corey. I hope you ladies have a nice lunch.” His footsteps sounded heavier as he left, and I knew he was angling for banana bread to go along with the cinnamon rolls.

“Such a nice young man,” Gran said, causing Mom to shake her head as she went to the kitchen.

I spied Declan through the large front window, opening his truck door. He stopped and gave me a big grin before sliding in and driving off. Yep. He’d heard Gran.

“Let me help you, Mom.” I went into the kitchen as she was coming out with a tray of English tea sandwiches. Really, Mom?Lunch is going cold. Yeah, that happens when you’re serving cold sandwiches.

“I’ll get the iced tea.” I picked up the tray with a pitcher of tea and three cut crystal glasses.

Gran had already taken two of the smoked salmon sandwiches.

There was a bakery across the street from Mom’s tea shop. When she had people over, she usually stopped in there to pick up an assortment of these tiny, delicious sandwiches. I chose the chicken and cranberry. Mom preferred the cucumber-dill and the shrimp salad.

I poured everyone iced tea and then sat to eat.

“How’s the gallery coming?” Gran asked. “It won’t be long now.”

I swallowed and then took a sip. “I’m almost done with the mural. Maybe another day or so. At that point, I begin painting the interior.”

“Why not have Phil’s men do the painting?” Mom asked.

“Because I’m not just painting the walls white. I want it to look like we’re under water.”

“How can you possibly have time for all that before your opening?” Mom asked, taking a bite and touching the napkin to her lips.

“Yes. That is the issue and why I get cranky when asked to do other things.”

“You agreed to join this Council and—”

I cut her off before she really got started. “I know, Mom. You might notice I’m sitting here. It doesn’t mean I’m not stressed about getting everything done in time.”

Gran reached over and patted my arm. “I know you’re busy, but what we do provides protection, direction, even hope for our people.” Gran, like Mom, had no patience for gripes about Council responsibilities. I got it. They’d been shouldering it without a third for far too long, but there was little to no care for how hard this was, mentally and physically, on me. Whatever. The sandwiches were good.

When we finished, we moved out to Mom’s backyard. It was a showplace. Aunt Hester, Pearl’s mom, might not have had a lot of magical ability, but she had ten green thumbs, which is its own magic. There was a screen of tall trees around the perimeter of the garden, with flowering bushes, decorative grasses, beds of blossoms, and vines dripping from the pergola.

My old bedroom had a window to the garden. I’d spent much of my growing up years—if I wasn’t across the street in the ocean—sitting in my window seat with a sketchbook in my hand.

The yard had also been spelled. Neighbors could neither see nor hear us. The last time we’d joined hands in a ritual like this, I’d had a vision of issues to be aware of and try to prevent. Mom and Gran had experienced my vision too but from a different angle. We didn’t see exactly the same things, which was incredibly odd.

The three of us met in the middle of the garden. I took off my gloves, lifted my arms to the heavens, allowing all my mental blocks to slip away. Voices, emotions, visions swirled around me, but I cloaked myself in the white light of the Goddess. I wasn’t sure how I knew what to say, but when Mom and Gran began to speak, my voice twined with theirs.

“We, the Corey three, maiden, mother, and crone, call upon the Goddess for her wisdom and protection. We entreat thee to look favorably upon us and share your insight. We seek only to care for our people. There is darkness in this family. We ask, our most beloved Goddess, that you share with us how we might pluck the evil from the heart of our family. For your guidance, we thank you. Blessed be.”

We joined hands and I was slammed with more visions than I could process all at once. My knees buckled.

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