Darkangel(84)

“And you’re here to tell me not to?”

“’Course not.” She shook her head, and the curls gathered up at the back of her head danced with the movement. “He seems like a nice young gentleman. Sorta reminds me of my Seth.”

“Seth?” I asked. This was the first time she’d ever mentioned anyone in particular. Considering her previous occupation, I’d sort of assumed she didn’t have anyone.

Her expression grew wistful. “Seth Carlson. He was a miner — came here from somewhere east, Minnesota or Michigan or one of those places. He was saving up his money, wanted to buy a ranch over Prescott way. Wanted to marry me. But then this happened.” She gestured toward herself, and for a few seconds I thought I saw livid black bruises appear on her neck before they disappeared again. “Anyway, your Adam calls Seth to mind, for some reason.”

“So that’s the general consensus of…everyone?” I asked. By “everyone” I meant the dearly departed population of Jerome. To be honest, up until this moment I hadn’t really stopped to think what their input might be. They coexisted with us witches, but aside from me, there wasn’t a lot of interaction. The ghosts were not clan members. McAllisters generally seemed happy enough to move on to the next plane with a minimum of fuss, from what I could tell.

“More or less.” A shadow seemed to pass over her face, and she seemed to go slightly transparent before she gathered herself again. “There’s something…something we can’t see, can’t feel. It’s not one of us. It’s always at the edge of our vision. But something about it doesn’t seem right.”

“Like…” I swallowed. “Like when that apparition showed up in my aunt’s store?”

A small lift of her shoulders under the white pintucked blouse, so prim and proper, so opposite what she’d been when she lived here in Jerome. “Sort of. Not exactly the same…but still cold. It feels like it’s watching.” She shivered, as if recalling a chill she shouldn’t be able to feel at all.

I was cold as well. Time for that fire. I made a small flick of my fingers, and the logs crackled to life, bringing some much-needed warmth to the room. Somehow that wasn’t enough to dispel the ice that seemed to be running through my veins.

“What should I do?” I asked. The words came out in barely a whisper.

She took a step toward me and raised her hand, as if she wanted to pat my shoulder in comfort and then realized that would do no good at all, that her fingers would only move through my body as if it weren’t there. Yes, she looked solid, but she was no more corporeal than a drift of river mist.

“What you are doing,” she replied, sounding a little too cheery. I didn’t know who she was trying to convince…me, or herself. “You have your own watchers, and that’s good. And you have Adam. That’s good, too. He’ll help to keep you safe.”

She seemed certain of that. I could only hope she was right.



* * *



Three days later, and only four days to go until my birthday. I could feel time running down, just as the year ebbed to the darkest night, the solstice. In the past I’d always sort of enjoyed having my birthday on that day, of feeling the power of the day I’d come into this world combining with that pivot point when the world shifted back toward the light. Now, though, I could only think that it was an unfortunate combination. It was on the solstice when some of the darkest magic was cast. If I were still vulnerable on that night….

You won’t be, I told myself. Because Adam and you will be…together…just a few hours before. Well, unless this one works out.

Talk about your Hail Mary passes. Things were still delicate and uncertain between Aunt Rachel and me, but she’d called late on Saturday afternoon to say she had another candidate for me and that he was coming over on Sunday. It hadn’t been phrased as a question, and I hadn’t bothered to argue. None of the other candidates had worked out, and I had no reason to think this one would be any different. But I figured I might as well humor her.

Adam, of course, hadn’t taken it very well. “Like it’s going to make a difference at this point!” he fumed.

I didn’t bother to point out that he had a vested interest in my not seeing any candidates during this final week before my birthday. “She thinks it might,” I said gently. “I don’t think it will, either, but since she and I are still walking on eggshells around each other, I figure it might make things a little better.” Adam and I were sitting in the nook off the kitchen and drinking coffee; it was a cold, blustery morning, and although the skies threatened, no rain had fallen yet.