Page 45 of Wicching Hour

He kept his arms wrapped around me. “I noticed a brand new, shiny green Bronco with temporary plates by the side of the road and stopped to see if there was a problem.”

“And there was,” Bracken said.

There was something about his voice. I turned my head and found him ghost white, staring back at me. I reached out a hand and he took it in both of his.

“I’m sorry you had to see all that,” I said. “I’m okay.”

“You most certainly are not. You were experiencing what that poor woman was. You told the officers that he was strangling her and then you stopped breathing.” He shook his head. “I felt as though my own life was flashing before my eyes. I didn’t know how to help you.” He rubbed at his forehead. “And then Declan arrived, saw what was happening, and acted before I could explain.”

My phone buzzed, making Bracken and me jump.

“If it’s that detective again,” Bracken began, but then he tipped the screen toward me. Mom.

TWENTY-ONE

Of Turrets and Sorcery

Ilet out a breath and tapped the screen. “Hey, Mom. We’re on the road. Can we call you back when we get to the gallery?”

“What’s the matter with your voice?” she demanded.

“There was an incident,” Declan said, “but she’s recovering from it.”

The line was silent for a moment and then Mom said, “Can you all come here? This is a conversation that would be better had in person.”

The three of us shared a look and then Declan said, “We’re on our way,” and tapped to disconnect the call. Pushing my hair back from my face, he asked, “Are you okay to go?”

I nodded.

“We need to detour to the water first, though,” he said, “so you can fill this.” He picked up a beautiful ocean blue leather backpack that he must have dropped earlier. He unzipped it and handed me an octopus bottle, like my old honey bear. The tentacles were all wrapped around, so the shape of the bottle was similar. The cap on the honey bear had looked like a yellow cone. On the octopus, it was a starfish that could be pulled up to squeeze out honey—or in my case, seawater.

Why was I crying? I gave Declan a watery grin. “I love them both.” I held the bottle in one hand and the backpack on my lap. How’d I get so lucky?

“Okay? We’ll stop at the gallery so you can fill both up and then we’ll head to your Gran’s,” Declan said.

I nodded again. He made sure I was in and then closed the door, heading back to his pickup.

I turned to Bracken, my neck still sore. As he started the engine, I saw the gold sedan out of the corner of my eye. I couldn’t snap my neck around to see if the stalker had been sitting across the road watching us. Doing my best to push him out of my head, I asked Bracken, “Is this okay?”

He nodded, merging into traffic. “Do you think they meant for me to come too? They may not have known I was with you.”

“They knew,” I said. “The whole point of our being on the road was getting you a new car.” I studied the octopus bottle in my hand and wondered where Declan had found it. “You don’t have to go if it feels like too much, but I think it would be really good if you did.” I left it at that.

The earlier excitement of the new car was gone. In its place was death and banishment. The cops were dealing with one of those things and we’d see if Gran was going to step up to confront the other.

Bracken parked next to his RV and Declan pulled in right beside him. I pocketed my phone and then stepped out of the SUV. Declan was already there, taking the backpack and wrapping an arm around me.

“I’m okay,” I whispered.

“Yeah, well, I’m not,” he responded, walking me slowly onto the deck.

“Nor am I,” Bracken said behind us.

I tried to turn my neck, but it made me wince. “Maybe you should get your journal, in case they want to see some of your research.”

He patted his breast pocket. “Already have it.”

Leaning against the railing, I held out a hand and caught a directed splash of oceanwater. Almost immediately, my throat felt better. I turned my neck this way and that, rolling my shoulders, shaking off the aftereffects. Yep. All better. Physically, anyway.

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