Under Witch Aura (Moon Shadow Series) (23 page)

I smiled at White Feather.
“Heliotrope
is a wind stone, believe it or not. Maybe you can help me learn to
use it.” Smashing her plans, petty as it was, made my heart
sing with glee. Of course, I was older and had a sister of my own so
I was much, much more practiced at keeping my smugness hidden. “Let
me grab my backpack.”

I hurried to the lab,
conveniently
forgetting that revenge was never simple, and the happier you were
before taking revenge, the harder the fall.

White Feather waited more
patiently
than Tara, but our dallying meant more trouble. Lynx knocked before I
had done more than pick up my backpack.

After answering the door, I
briefly
considered running away, but he was blocking the exit.

Lynx blurted out, “I didn’t
know the rules or I would have brought her home last night. Either
way, she needs to be trained by the best or it’s a waste of
time. Adriel’s the best. But you gotta talk her into it.”

The plea and half apology
threw White
Feather. Unlike Tara, Lynx knew a thing or two about business, and he
understood focusing on the bottom line. Or in this case, focusing on
the one thing he wanted. If only he’d had his priorities
straight a few mistakes ago.

The tension in the air was
palpable.

Instinctively I groped for
Mom’s
cookies on the bar. They represented comfort, not stress. It was a
mistake. Now I had to share. “Lynx, she will train with the
best--the best for her. I’m not sure of Tara's talent, but I’ve
sensed it, and even if the magics aren’t the same, Mom will be
better at recognizing her inherent strengths.”

Tara didn’t bother to look
up
from her fingernails.

“Mom is more organized than
I am
so she’ll meet with you twice weekly, Tuesdays and Saturdays.”

Lynx's ears pointed
straight up. “Whoa.
This is big.”

I offered White Feather a
cookie and
gave one to Lynx. If I allowed Lynx to help himself, he’d
devour the whole bag. “What is big?”

Lynx ignored me in favor of
Tara. “She
must have sensed something special to send you to her family. Not
even
I
have met her family. You’re gonna be some
important witch.”

I coughed cookie crumbs.
Since when was
meeting my family important? “Or she will be a nice ordinary
witch like me, making a respectable living.” I did not want
Tara, or Lynx for that matter, to start building towers into a
dangerous sky.

Lynx looked at me, his
round eyes
carrying more awe than when I did my best spells. “Yeah,
ordinary.” He laughed his silent laugh then, chuckling so hard
he bent over, still soundless.

“Can I meet her now?” Tara
asked.

Lynx straightened
immediately. “I
can take her.”

“You're grounded,” came the
pronouncement from White Feather.

“I'll have her home by
whatever
time she's supposed to be there,” Lynx said respectfully. He
didn't drop his eyes either. “I didn't know about the rules
before. I never had to be home at night.” He paused and then
added, “Or in the day.”

“She knows the rules.”
White Feather chomped down hard on his cookie.

“We could go straight over
there,” Tara said. “It's training, so it isn't like a
date. And I know to be home by nine. I promise, I learned my lesson,
and I'll be there.”

“Could we get food before
we go
or do we have to go straight there?” Lynx wanted to know.
“Otherwise, I gotta eat here.”

I shook my head. “Lynx, you
never
eat before visiting my mother. She'll have more food than you've ever
seen in your whole life. It'll be the best food you've ever eaten
too. She made these cookies.”

His face lit up either
because of the
possible food or because he sensed an opening to take Tara there.
“But she doesn't know we're coming. We'd have to call first and
even then, how's she gonna have enough food ahead of time?”

I smiled and put my finger
by my nose;
the silly witching signal. “Mom always knows stuff like that
Lynx. Trust me.”

His eyes widened briefly.
“Big.
This is big. That's one useful skill.”

I laughed. It was more
useful for him
than for my mother, and witch or no, she was always prepared for
company. My smile faded when White Feather said, “I’ll
take you.” His only concession was to add, “You too,
Lynx. That way she’ll know all the potential problems she is
dealing with.”

Tara snorted and put forth
a last-ditch
effort. “We'll go directly over there. It isn't like we won't
be supervised.” She made little quote marks with her fingers
when she said “supervised.”

White Feather was having
none of it.
“You’ll be supervised because I’ll take you.”

My stomach clenched. White
Feather had
to meet my mother eventually. I had no particular plan, and in fact
had been studiously avoiding any planning.

Well, since it was bound to
happen
sooner or later, it might as well be now. “Okay. Drop them off,
pick them up, however you want to handle it.”

He smiled. “What about you?”

I shook my head. “Nope. I
have
work to do. You are on your own.”

He frowned. “Abandoned.”

“No, not really.” I was not
about to introduce White Feather to my mother while Tara and Lynx
were present. There were some tortures too awful to even consider. My
mother knew about White Feather. I had as much as admitted what he
meant to me, but I refused to stand there in front of two teenagers
and endure the angst of bringing a man, the most important man of my
entire life, home.

White Feather considered
his options.
Then he grinned.

I chewed another cookie,
almost meeting
his eyes. Let him charm Mom without me there to blush and be anxious.
Let Mom test him without me watching in agony.

Lynx bolted. “Let’s go,
then.”

Tara wasted no time
speeding out behind
him.

“You sure you don’t want to
join us?” White Feather lingered.

“I’m positive I don’t
want to be there
under
these
circumstances. Any other time, not a problem.”

He laughed. “Okay.”

He didn’t have to be so
pleased
with himself. A fluttering panic hit for a second when I imagined him
asking Mom about my childhood. Or my magic. Or my...oh hell. It
didn’t matter. I had nothing to hide.

I followed the unlikely
trio outside.
Tara and Lynx whispered to each other on the side of the porch. White
Feather gave me a quick kiss and whispered, “Thanks.”

What was he was thanking me
for? He
couldn’t possibly be as thrilled with the prospect of meeting
my mother as Lynx seemed to be.

White Feather snorted in
disgust at the
two lovebirds. Well, no doubt he was glad to have help--any help--in
dealing with Tara.

“Come on,” he said to them.

Tara
hurried off
the porch, probably fearing he would change his mind.

Before
Lynx followed,
I grabbed his arm. Very quietly I said,
“No
more screw ups. This stuff is serious. You know more than she does.
Quit letting her lead.”

He tugged his arm away, but
then did
something he had never done before. He set two of his fingers
against my wrist. It had to be uncomfortable because he was holding
my wrist right above my silver bracelet. “Three strikes I'm
out. You got my word. You and White Feather can count on me. I'll
guard her better'n anything.”

With a single hop, he
joined Tara and
White Feather in the driveway.

I closed my eyes. I had
nothing to be
worried about.

Yeah, right.

I tarried on the porch,
fidgeting. I
should have gone with them. Then again...I sighed. Extra heliotrope
wouldn't materialize on its own.

Time to don a disguise and
get to work.
Keeping my identity and reputation low-key was part of my mantra.
Normally an illusion spell would be my first choice, but browsing in
a magic store with any active spell was a good way to attract
attention from an astute proprietor.

Wigs had created a variety
of problems
for me in the past, so my latest disguise substituted white locks of
hair that clipped under my own black. The three streaks of platinum
not only marked me as a groupie, they were striking enough to be
memorable.

I also inserted plain brown
contacts,
because the greenish streak in my left eye was too unique a marker.
If Charms turned out to be a groupie haven, that sort of flaw in my
eye would get me noticed.

Jeans were the only pair of
clean pants
available. In fact, with all the pants I had ruined lately, it might
be the only pair I still owned. My backpack could be too easily
remembered, so I pocketed one illusion spell that would shift my
appearance if things got out of hand. Distraction spells were
standard fare, but lately it seemed everyone had real firepower
except me. I selected a nettle and habanero spell in addition to the
usual firecracker-type.

My flying spell needed
serious
improvement, as in starting over from scratch, but I packed a copy in
my sneakers anyway. Even though the spell was more likely to rocket
me into a tree or leave me free-floating like a helium balloon on the
way to the moon, I wasn’t leaving it behind, not with David the
Frog and his buddy still at large. “Never enough time,” I
mumbled.

I doubled-checked the
address before
heading out.

Charms, like all shops open
for tourist
business, identified itself on the internet as near the plaza. Actual
plaza space was prohibitively expensive, so Charms was a good half
mile off the plaza and wouldn’t get random tourist business
unless it was from a drunk wandering through alleys.

The glass windows were
covered with a
dark, modern anti-glare coating, but it did little to disguise the
age of the weathered building. A blue screen door was propped open
permanently because the decayed wooden frame was half off its hinges.

“Charms” was painted in
gold block lettering on the window of the door. Various native Indian
charms, including kokopelli, a lizard, and a kachina were stenciled
across the shop windows.

It looked like a tourist
trap, albeit
off the beaten path. I went in anyway.

Mat’s shop was always
well-lit.
She didn’t burn incense because it interfered with her personal
perfume concoction. Charms was more typical of a witchery shop; the
guy probably had the lowest light bill in Santa Fe, and the place
smelled like cinnamon, an herb known for attracting business.

Trying not to sneeze, I
wandered around
the outer shelves. Several jars were marked with a cross and skull,
but it was too dark to read any actual instructions.

“May I help you?” The
question came from a dark lump sitting behind the jewelry case
counter all the way at the back.

“Just looking.” There was
no point in a conversation unless the merchandise was worth asking
about. The too-typical arrangement of cellophane wrapped incense
blocks wasn’t a great harbinger. A rack of books with
unreadable titles had solar systems on the front covers. On the same
rack there were two Ouija boards for sale.

I hated and feared the real
thing, but
these particular ones were about as magical as the cardboard
packaging. Lots of glitter and shiny promises, but no aura of
anything ancient, magical or lethal.

Closer to the counter now,
I snuck a
glance at the young guy seated on a tilted stool with one sneaker
balancing against the counter. He was vaguely familiar, but maybe it
was because there was nothing particularly striking about him.

He hadn't shaved in a day
or so, but it
was a cultivated look. He had obviously showered, combed his longish
dark hair and bothered to put on clean clothes before work. The only
magical thing about him was the way his black t-shirt and jeans
helped him blend into the dark wall behind him.

The midnight blue wall
darkened to
black near the top. The solar system was a splash of colors including
a cloudy, distant Milky Way and planets in bright shades; red for
Mars, a pearl iridescence for Venus, and Saturn with rings in several
shades of gold.

The guy kept his hands
folded across
his stomach in a half-asleep, bored manner. I wasn’t sure if
he was the hired help or the owner.

“Did you draw the solar
system?”
I asked.

“Yeah. You like it? I can
do
murals of all kinds, indoors or out.”

“Ah, an art student?” There
were many in Santa Fe; some in school, some here for the laid-back
atmosphere. Too many of them were waiting to be discovered. At least
he was working.

“Yeah. That’s why the shop
has funny hours.”

“Oh.” If he controlled the
hours, he probably owned the shop, but he barely looked twenty. Maybe
a parent was helping foot the bills. Inconsistent funding would
explain the rather odd assortment of merchandise, half of which
looked like it might have been picked up at a Dollar Tree Halloween
clearance table.

“Looking for something in
particular?” he asked.

“Just browsing for a gift
for a
friend.”

The single bulb over the
counter barely
illuminated the cash register. The glass case held the most
interesting items, including several religious objects. A beautifully
crafted Star of David rested next to an exquisite Native American
wedding vase. There were two sets of Buddha beads and several
rosaries made from natural stone.

I didn’t recognize the
significance of several items, including a conch shell with carved
designs and bells of various shapes and sizes. Some of the
craftsmanship was quite good and likely local. Some was commercial
and useless. It was difficult to build up a valid inventory of
diverse magical items unless the proprietor had Matilda’s
contacts. This guy obviously didn’t.