Chapter 3 Arwyn’s New Favorite Get Out of Jail Free Card
THREE
Arwyn’s New Favorite Get Out of Jail Free Card
Declan had outdone himself with the doors. They were eight feet tall—mostly, because the top wasn’t a straight edge. He’d given them an undulating design that echoed my tentacles. They looked perfectly organic to the space, and I loved them.
He’d backed his truck right up to the deck so it wouldn’t be obvious that he was lifting five-hundred-pound gates by himself. Once he’d taken the first one out and propped it against the wall of the gallery, I hugged him hard and went up on my tiptoes to kiss his chin.
“They’re perfect! I love them. Thank you so much.” I hummed into his kiss when he leaned down to meet me halfway.
He ran his hand over the wood. “I’m glad you like them. They’ll block stalkers while being an extension of your aesthetic.”
“Perfect,” I said again, looking between him and the gate. “You don’t actually need my help to do this, do you?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got it. Is there something else you want to do?”
“Yeah, eat.”
“But we—no, yeah. You should eat if you’re hungry.” He looked confused but clearly wasn’t interested in discouraging me from food.
“Yes, I know we already ate, but then I got sick and lost it. My stomach has decided it’s starving.
” I detoured to the railing, not remembering if I’d already said hello to my friends.
“Charlie, Herbert, you’re both a glorious orange today.
” My starfish friends never responded, but I was pretty sure each of them mentally waved a point at me. It was implied.
“Hello, Cecil! I hope you, Poppy, and the eggs are doing well.” One of Cecil’s tentacles rose above the surface and slapped down on the water. “It’s good to see you too.” I glanced around the deck for the waterlogged tennis ball and found it in Declan’s hand.
“I’ll throw it. Which direction?”
I pointed over the ocean. “That way.”
He reached back, using his werewolf strength, and sent it flying over the waves. With a bark, Wilbur, my gray speckled harbor seal friend, shot out from under the deck and streaked across the water to retrieve the ball.
I’d learned recently that the seal I’d been playing fetch with for over a year was actually a selkie and one of my father’s guards who was keeping an eye on me for him. I’d only recently met my father too. Lots of changes that sometimes felt like too many changes.
Declan was getting started on the gate, so I headed in. “Do you want anything?” I called over my shoulder.
“I’m good, but thanks.” His deep growly voice made me feel safe and happy. I found a French bread pizza in the freezer and set it to cook in the oven. I had fifteen minutes, so I went into the hot room to close the doors and make sure everything was properly stowed for the day.
Walking back, I was hit by a wave of darkness and the stench of death. I felt myself starting to go down and reached for the wall or something to keep me upright. Strong arms wrapped around me, picked me up, and carried me into the studio, laying me down on the couch.
Declan’s hand was on my face, his thumb caressing my cheek. “Sweetheart? Are you okay?”
I didn’t know. Was I? “I don’t recall agreeing to sweetheart.
” I blinked my eyes open and met his concerned ones.
“I don’t know what that was. I didn’t have a vision or anything.
It went dark and I felt a pressure—like I was being crushed.
The smell of death was suffocating.” I shook my head. “It was horrible.”
Declan looked like he was getting ready to panic. “Should I contact your Uncle Robert or your Uncle John? Do you need a healer?”
I pulled his face down and gave him a kiss. “I’m fine now.” I patted his broad chest. “You knew this was the deal when you signed up. You’ve seen me do much weirder stuff than this. Why are you upset?”
He got off his knees and sat on the coffee table, my hand caught tight in his.
He blew out a breath. “Your heart was racing. I heard it outside and I scented your fear. I kind of lost it.” He shook his head.
“Everything feels bigger and more precarious right now. Was that a vision, or is there something wrong with the baby?”
I thought about that a moment. “It felt like it was coming from somewhere else. It was outside of me, not inside. I’m sure she’s fine.”
He nodded, looking unsure. “But should we check?”
The timer went off and Declan stood. “I’ll get it.”
I sat up on a stomach growl. My head had cleared and I was back to being hungry.
Declan returned with my second lunch, a glass of iced tea, and a napkin. “If you’re sure you’re okay, I’ll be right outside the door. Call if you need anything.”
I nodded, and he kissed the top of my head before going back out to work on the gates.
By the time we needed to go, I was feeling more myself. Second lunch had stayed down, which put me in a better mood. Declan had installed the gates on both sides of the deck. My Great-Uncle Bracken had heard the drill and so came out to help Declan install the second one.
I wasn’t sure how much he helped Declan, but he was a lot of help to me.
He’d created a spell that mirrored the wards I had on the gallery.
We didn’t need to spend the time and magical energy to build strong new wards.
The spell coaxed the existing wards to extend their protection over the gates and enclosed deck.
Declan, who’d been listening to Bracken and me, scratched his cheek. “Coax? Do wards have a mind of their own? Can they refuse?”
Bracken nodded, sitting on the bench by the newly installed gate. “Of course they can. Magic is alive, sentient, and all around us. As wicches, we have the power to tap into that magic, to make it malleable enough to fuel our wishes.”
“And for those like the Swans,” I cut in, “who don’t have the innate power, they try to augment it by twisting the magic through blood and sacrifice.”
Bracken turned, his brow furrowed, no doubt wondering how the Swans had ended up in this magic lesson. I told him about our visit earlier from Detective Hernández and the cloud of black magic over the Swan house.
Bracken slumped back on the bench. “Yes. There are, unfortunately, those of us who allow bitterness and envy to take something as pure and beautiful as a communion with the magical world and corrupt it, turning that gift into rot. They get their boost of power, but at what cost?”
“They don’t care,” I muttered.
“More’s the pity.” Bracing his hands on his knees, he stood. “Enough about that. How are you feeling today, my dear?” he asked me. “Any morning sickness?”
I stood and nodded, feeling a brief wave of lightheadedness. “But my second lunch is staying down. For now.”
Declan got up. “I’ll pack up the truck, then we can go.”
“Sounds good.” I turned back to my great-uncle.
Bracken pulled a small dropper bottle from his pocket and handed it to me. “I made you an herbal tincture that you can add to your tea. It should help settle your stomach.”
“Thank you. That’s really helpful.” I slid the vial into my hip pocket. “I’ll take it with me. Declan’s driving me to Mom’s for a Council meeting.”
“Send my regards to your mother and cousin, please.” He turned back toward the gate, either to go back to sleep or begin his work. Bracken usually slept during the day and worked all night.
“Can I get you something for breakfast before you go?”
He stepped back and squeezed my hand. “Nonsense. You have to go, and I have a full refrigerator. You take good care of me, and I appreciate it very much.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek, surprising both of us, I think.
“Are you going to try to get more sleep now that the noise has stopped?”
He shook his head. “I’m setting my alarm a little earlier every day. A few minutes at a time.”
A big wind came and pushed my curls out of my face. “Why? I thought you liked working at night.”
He smiled, but his eyes were sad. “I do. I think, though, that has more to do with retreating from the world.” He scratched his nose, staring down the long deck at Declan who was putting his tools away.
“If I’m choosing to be up when the rest of the world sleeps, I can hardly blame people for never visiting or calling.
” He tapped his pockets. “And the solitude helps calm my brain. It’s far less likely to spin out of control in the dark and quiet. ”
I nodded, understanding. “But then why are you making yourself wake up earlier?”
When he smiled this time, it reached his eyes. “I need to be ready for babysitting opportunities.”
My eyes flooded and I hugged him, again surprising us both.
He gently patted my back. “Is this okay?”
I backed up and ran my gloved fingers under my eyes, waving away his concern. “Declan kissed me and I haven’t rebooted yet. I’m fine.”
“Oh. Good. I still need to look for that gestation question you asked me.” With a vague wave, he went through the fence and back to his RV.
Declan met me halfway across the deck, my backpack on his shoulder. “Everything okay?”
“Yep.” I put my gloved hand in his and went with him to his truck.
“Let me know if Elizabeth can’t bring you home, okay?” He squeezed my hand. “It’s no problem to pick you up.” He opened the passenger door, waited for me to climb in, and then handed me my backpack.
I stowed it between my feet while he closed the door and rounded the front of the truck.
I’d started carrying a backpack with me when I began working with the detectives.
I carried a sketch pad, charcoals, a water bottle, and snacks.
Visions could exhaust me, and detectives often were stuck at crime scenes for long periods of time, so I needed supplies.
The most important item in my backpack, though, was a little plastic bottle in the shape of an octopus that held seawater from deep in the ocean.
Being half water fae, it helped clear and center my mind.
It also reset my abilities after my magical null of a boyfriend short-circuited me.
I wore the gloves, the long sleeves, and long pants because in addition to being a Cassandra wicche who had visions in her blood, I was also a clairvoyant whose gift was psychometry.
Gift or curse depended on the day. Suffice to say, if I touched someone or something, I usually saw far more than most people wanted me to.
Except with Declan, thank goodness. It was how I knew—or was pretty sure—the Goddess had sent him for me.
Declan’s thoughts must have been running parallel to mine because he said, “Did you see anything you didn’t want to when your great-uncle kissed your cheek?”
I shook my head. “Not really. He misses his son and is struggling with whether or not he should fly to Boston to introduce himself. He’s only been on a plane once and almost ended up on the no-fly list from the panic attack he had.”
“He’s getting better,” Declan said, turning off the main street, up a long windy, tree-covered road leading to Mom’s. “I think being around you is helping him. His eyes don’t jitter anymore. It feels like he’s incorporated your gallery into his safe space.”
I nodded slowly, considering. “He holds a lot of guilt for not being strong enough for his wife and son. He considers it a failure, a weakness, on his part. He’s too hard on himself.
She didn’t understand him. Neither was at fault.
It was an untenable situation and when she left, she took their baby.
” I glanced over at Declan. “He’s retraining his internal clock—”
“I heard him say that.” Declan took my hand again. “That’s not easy, especially as he’s been nocturnal for decades. I guess that’s how much he wants to be a part of our daughter’s life.”
I had to blink back tears again. Damn these hormones. “He’s struggling between excitement over the baby and maybe a second chance to help—even on the periphery—raise a child, but a darker voice in his head is reminding him of all the ways he failed his own son.”
Declan turned in to Mom’s hidden courtyard and gave me an incredulous look. “But you didn’t get much from his touch.”
He stopped by her front door. “Listen. Private planes exist. A chartered flight will be easier, with far less chaos for him. And from what he’s said, it sounds like he makes good money with his writing. You and I can go with him.” He shrugged a beefy shoulder. “I’ve never been to Boston.”
I watched the trees sway in the wind a moment. “You’re right. There are ways around the roadblocks.” I gripped his hand tighter. “You’ll go too?”
He nodded. “Absolutely. While Bracken is meeting with his son, you and I can do some sightseeing. And if Bracken’s son doesn’t want to meet with him, we can be there to help.”
I released my seat belt and leaned into Declan, my heart in my kiss. “I love you, you know?” I whispered.
Grinning, he kissed me back. “I know.”
Laughing, I grabbed my backpack and slid out of the truck.
“Hey, don’t forget to let me know if your Aunt Elizabeth is giving you a ride,” he called through the open window.
I nodded and waved goodbye. When Mom opened the front door, Declan turned the truck around, waved to us both, and drove back out onto the winding road.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Darling, are those exercise pants?” Mom was wearing a blue linen dress and heels.
I looked down at myself. “Huh. I guess they are. Sometimes shared visions put us on the ground. I wanted to make sure I could move easily so I didn’t jar the little one.”
Mom raised a brow at that. “Is this the kind of sloppy, casual attire we can expect for the entirety of your pregnancy?”
I shrugged. “Prolly.” When Mom opened her mouth to complain, I said, “Stop and think. Do we actually have to dress up for these meetings, or is that what Gran preferred? You’re the head of this family now, Mom.
You set the rules. If you say I have to dress up, I will.
I want you to decide what’s important to you, though, not Gran or Great-Gran. ”
She pursed her lips and said, “I’ll think about it.”