Chapter 13 #2
A set of bells that sounded like wind chimes clattered together in a tinkling melody as I stepped over the threshold, and Susan looked up, a welcoming smile on her face—a smile that faltered ever so slightly when she saw that it was me standing there.
“Hi,” I said, a little breathlessly.
“Hello, Wren,” she replied.
I jumped as something brushed against my leg. I looked down to see that the cats from the window had leaped down, and were winding themselves sinuously around my legs. I blinked down at them in surprise.
“Oh, don’t mind Tristano and Poncasa. They don’t understand the meaning of personal space,” Susan said. “Just shoo them away if you don’t—”
“No, it’s fine. I, uh… I like cats,” I said. I liked them even more in this moment. They seemed to be the only creatures who didn’t shy away from me these days.
I looked up to see that Susan had returned to her book and her cup of coffee.
I hesitated. Was I wrong? Was it possible she’d walked by and hadn’t noticed my outburst?
It seemed impossible, and yet she was acting like nothing at all strange had happened.
I decided I couldn’t just leave without the answers to those questions.
“It’s Susan, right?” I said, reaching down to pet one of the cats.
“That’s right,” she replied, looking up from her book.
“I, uh… I thought I saw you. Outside Xiomara’s Cafe, maybe fifteen minutes ago?”
I watched her carefully. Did she grow paler?
“Yes, I was,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “I needed a coffee,” she added, holding up her cardboard coffee cup.
I nodded and then, suddenly, it all came bursting out of me at once. “Look, I know you saw me sort of… freaking out back there, and I was just… I wanted to explain so that you didn’t think I was… well, crazy or something.”
Susan set her cup of coffee down carefully. “Wren, I work below Granny Nightjar. I have a pretty high tolerance for crazy.” She smiled gently, and the sight of that smile loosened the knot in my stomach.
“Right,” I said with a nervous chuckle. “It’s just… I’ve been working with divination—you know, trying to develop my spirit abilities. And when I passed the window… well, I sort of scried without meaning to.”
Susan’s brow furrowed with concern as she listened. “Well. That sounds… distressing.”
I smiled tightly. “It was. But it was also just an accident. I’m still learning.”
“Of course,” Susan said. “There’s not a witch among us who can’t relate. Those early days of probing our abilities can be trying.”
“Exactly,” I said, taking a few more steps toward her. “And the thing is, my mom… she worries. Like, a lot.”
Susan’s frown smoothed out into a knowing smile. “Mothers tend to do that.”
“Right. The thing is, she doesn’t like the idea of me scrying. She thinks it’s dangerous.”
“Hmm,” Susan took a thoughtful sip of coffee. “Well, yes, I suppose it can be, under certain circumstances.”
“Sure, but the thing is, it’s really important for me to keep practicing my scrying. Really, really important.”
I widened my eyes, willing her to understand. Surely she’d get it? I mean, everyone in Sedgwick Cove had heard rumors about what happened down on the beach with the Darkness and me.
“I imagine you probably have more pressing reasons than most to ensure your craft is progressing,” she said; and though the words were carefully neutral, the meaning was clear. She understood what I was trying to say. I could have hugged her, a total stranger.
“Exactly,” I said, nodding my head enthusiastically. “But the thing is, if anyone tells my mom or my aunts about what happened in front of the cafe—”
“They’ll become concerned and stop you from practicing your scrying?” Susan finished.
I nodded. “And I can’t let that happen,” I said, in little more than a whisper. “I have to keep going.”
I couldn't tell what expression was on my face, but whatever it was, it moved Susan. She nodded her head very sagely. “Yes,” she murmured. “I suppose you do.”
“So I was hoping… I’m asking,” I said, swallowing hard. “Please don’t mention what you saw to my family.”
Susan hesitated, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth. “Very well, Wren,” she finally said, and I slumped with relief.
“Thank you,” I gasped, realizing that I’d been holding my breath waiting for her answer.
“I do hope you’re being careful, though,” she added, stroking one of the cats as it leaped lightly up onto the counter. “That you have some… guidance.”
I nodded. I didn’t think it would help my case if I mentioned that “guidance” came in the form of Granny Nightjar, so I didn’t elaborate. Speaking of which…
My eyes darted to the back corner of the store, where the door to Granny Nightjar’s studio was obscured behind the bookshelves.
I wanted desperately to understand why the sea glass I had given her was now sitting in my pocket, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to walk back up those stairs, and face her.
Then I remembered there was another way I might find the answer.
“Thanks, Susan,” I said. “I, uh… I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome, Wren,” she said. “Do come in again, when you’ve got a little more time to read.”
I tried to smile, but it felt forced. “I will, I promise.”
And I hurried back toward the door, feeling three pairs of eyes—one human and two feline—on my retreating back, all the way out into the blustery morning.