Chapter 14 #2
“The chart…” I searched for the right words.
“Lifted. Off the laptop. The aspect lines became actual threads hanging in the air. Glowing. And when I focused on them, I could see … paths. Different versions of her life depending on what she chose. And when I…” I hesitated, feeling exposed.
“When I touched one of them, it shifted. Just a bit. Like I strengthened a path she already wanted to take.”
Silence fell, dense and electric.
Then Agnes let out a low whistle. “Bloody hell.”
“That’s … a huge responsibility,” Faelan said, brow furrowing. “My mother used to tell stories about weavers.”
Lottie’s eyes were wide. “A chartweaver! How exciting. Arthur used to talk about them too. He said they were like … cosmic editors. Helping people revise their lives one line at a time.”
“That is absolutely going on my business card,” I quipped, and the table laughed, easing some of my tension. But seriously though, how were they not freaking out that I could change people’s fates?
Matthew leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand. “So you see someone’s chart, and instead of saying, ‘You will probably ruin your life in March,’ you can … tweak it?”
“I can’t rewrite fate,” I said quickly. “Gran’s book”—I glanced around—“my grandmother left me a grimoire. There’s a chapter on chartweavers.
It says we’re meant to work with what’s already there.
Like, strengthen threads that align with the soul’s path.
Not just yank on things because we feel like it. ”
“Boring,” Matthew said. “I was hoping you could erase my last three relationships.”
“Even if I could, I wouldn’t,” I told him. “They’re data. Painful data, sure. But they got you here.”
He sighed. “You sound like my therapist.”
“Thank you, I think.” I laughed.
Sophie reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “You okay?” she asked quietly. “It’s a lot.”
“It is,” I admitted. “But it also felt right. When I helped Greta choose her path, it wasn’t about, like, playing god, or anything like that.
It was about giving her permission to pursue the life she already secretly desired, I guess?
The chart was already screaming it at her.
I just … amplified the volume. And my gran”—my voice wobbled—“she knew. There are notes in the book. She wrote my name next to the chapter.”
Shona’s eyes softened. “That must be nice. To feel like she’s still guiding you.”
“It is,” I said, swallowing past the lump in my throat.
“Speaking of your gran,” Sophie piped in. “Where’s your brooch?”
“Och, it’s in my handbag. Why?” I leaned back to unhook the bag I’d hung on the back of my chair.
“Just a hunch,” Sophie murmured.
I fumbled for the brooch that I kept in its pouch in my handbag. Taking it out, I turned it over, and gasped.
Inside the design, where the two dragons twisted together around the stars and the moon, nestled an opal. It glowed faintly, catching the light in a way that made my heart jump.
“Oh,” I breathed, pointing at the opal. “That … that wasn’t there yesterday. I swear it wasn’t.”
“It wasn’t,” Sophie confirmed. “I remember when you showed me the piece.”
Lottie reached out, not touching, just hovering her fingers over it. “Arthur always said the old magick has ways of marking progress. Maybe helping Greta … was a test.”
“Congratulations,” Orla said, grinning. “You passed your first challenge.”
“I did?” I asked, surprised. Pleasure flooded me. Was I actually going to be a helpful member on this team of women? “No way, that’s awesome. I thought it might be something crazy like stab a Kelpie with my brooch pin.”
“It might still be,” Faelan said, her tone serious. “They almost killed my partner, Luch.”
“They’ve done some serious damage,” Orla agreed, leaning forward. “It would be wise to not underestimate them.”
“But this brings us one step forward.” Sophie tapped my brooch. “So, congrats are in order.”
“Thank you,” I said, and sat back, amazed that I was sitting here, having this discussion about magick with these women.
Apart from Zara, I’d never felt as though I’d ever really clicked with many women.
Sure, I’d had girlfriends from school and hadn’t struggled to make friends necessarily, but these women were embracing me with open arms, warm smiles and …
genuine acceptance. It feels divine. And again, I felt as though I was where I was meant to be.
Matthew’s gaze had gone thoughtful. “So,” he said slowly. “Hypothetically, if one were, say, an exhausted academic, could one ask a chartweaver for a reading?”
“Hypothetically, one could,” I said.
“And would said chartweaver tell one if uprooting their life and moving to the arse-end of nowhere is a terrible idea?”
Sophie squealed.
“Depends on your chart,” I said. “But I could tell you what themes are up for you, sure. What your soul’s leaning toward.”
He drummed his fingers on the table. “Hmm. Intriguing. I might need that. I’m…not in love with my life at the moment. Or my department.”
Lottie smiled softly at him. “You loved it once.”
“I did,” he agreed. “I also loved a man who left me for an archaeologist with better calves, so clearly my judgment is evolving.”
“You’d be welcome here,” Sophie said quietly. “For as long as you’d like.”
He looked at her, eyes warm. “I know. That’s the problem. It’s starting to feel more tempting than terrifying.”
I caught the threads around him in the corner of my vision—just a faint shimmer, nothing like with Greta. A possibility.
Well, that was new.
I wondered if this was what Zara could see, and we’d always assumed it was just auras.
Was she seeing people’s threads as well?
But the harder I tried to look at the threads around Matthew, the more they disappeared into nothingness.
No, I would need a proper focused reading to actually see his chart, that was for sure.
“Whenever you’re ready,” I told him. “We can look at it. And see what options are available to you.” Honestly, I was dying to give another reading, just for being able to get a chance to see the threads again.
“Deal,” he said.
Before I could say anything else, a soft, plaintive cooing sound echoed through the room.
We all froze.
“Please tell me that was a pigeon,” Willow whispered.
“In the dining room?” Lia snorted. “Absolutely not.”
The sound came again, this time from the stone wall near the kitchen. It was longer this time, almost like a sigh.
“Clyde,” Sophie muttered under her breath.
“Is that the—”
Her question got swallowed whole when a translucent figure shot out of the stone and into the room with a loud, echoing “Mooooo!”
Several things happened at once.
I yelped.
Shona squeaked and grabbed Orla’s arm.
Lottie’s dogs—all five—went absolutely ballistic, exploding into frantic barks and scrabbling under chairs as if they’d personally been offended by the afterlife.
Matthew clutched his chest. “Oh my God—”
“Breathe, professor, you’re fine,” Kaia said, though her own eyes were huge.
Clyde hovered above the table, tossing his head joyfully, seemingly delighted to have interrupted the dinner.
“Damn it, Clyde,” Lia moaned, crossing her legs.
“He—” Sophie leaned toward me.
“Yes, yes, he made me pee my pants once, all right?” Lia glared at Sophie, as the table burst out laughing.
Clyde threw his head back and bellowed, and the candles flickered.
“Oh, he’s in a mood tonight,” Sophie said, pressing a hand to her racing heart. “All right, Clyde, we hear you, buddy.”
Clyde tilted his head, studying me for another long, unnerving second. Then, abruptly, he swooped downward in a lurching, too-fast movement that sent everyone flinching back from the table.
Lottie’s Scotties lost their minds, barking and lunging at thin air, nails skittering on the stone floor.
“Clyde!” Agnes hissed. “Enough with the jump-scare routine!”
He let out one last satisfied “Moooo,” more pleased with himself this time, then shot upward toward the ceiling and disappeared straight back into the stone with a faint ripple, like someone had dropped a pebble into a pond.
For a moment, all any of us could do was stare.
“Well,” Lia said finally, dropping into her chair. “I honestly don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”
“I think I just lost three years of my life,” Matthew said faintly. “Do you all just … live like this?”
“More or less,” Orla said, reaching down to ruffle one of the Scotties, who was still growling at the wall. “He’s mostly harmless. Just dramatic.”
“Ghosts,” I muttered, trying to get my heart rate back under control. “Unicorns. Chartweaving. Sure. Why not? Add jump scare ghost coo to the list.”
“Wait. Unicorns?” Faelan asked and the entire table rounded on me.
“Um.” My eyes widened as everyone suddenly looked extremely interested in what I was about to say next.
“Are you dating someone, Liora?” Willow leaned forward, interest on her face.
What in the world did that have to do with unicorns?
“Um, no. Yes. Kind of.” I blew out a breath. “It’s complicated.”
“Ah, and was Mr. Complicated there when the unicorn arrived?”
“Wait, an actual unicorn?” Lottie turned and beamed at the table, her face lighting up. “Are they really real?”
“This one sure was,” I said.
“That’s incredible,” Lottie breathed. “Och, you’ll have to describe it for me so I can paint it.”
“Um, sure.”
“So? Was he with you?” Sophie leaned forward.
“I mean, yeah, we were both in the yard. It’s his house.”
“Och, lass.” Orla pursed her lips in a soft smile. “Good luck to you then, on your complicated situation. Because you’re going to have to get that sorted out at some point.”
“Wait, why? What does this mean?” I turned to Sophie. “Explain.”
“I can’t.” Sophie held up her hands. “It’s just going to have to be something you figure out.”
“But it’s not dangerous … is it? You wouldn’t keep that from me?” I asked, annoyed.
“Dangerous to your heart only. Don’t worry. It’s a good thing. We’ve all seen the unicorn at some point.”
“I want to see a unicorn,” Matthew complained.
“Well, Matthew. You never know. If you move here for real, you just might,” Sophie said.