Of Stars and Spells

by Nyx Halliwell

  So they’re not building condos. “A retreat?” I ask, knowing she’s talking about the cabins on the Whitethorne property.

  “Like the Gray Bear Lodge resort in Wyoming? That’s one of ours.” She gives me a patient smile, but then her eyes dismiss me. “I’m prepared to up the offer,” she says to Quinn. “Maybe we can have a cup of coffee inside where it’s warmer and discuss it.”

  Quinn motions at the farm. “This land has been in my family for three generations. Your offer doesn’t mean anything to me. You can’t put a price on this.”

  I feel like an eavesdropper, but I stand my ground, showing support for Quinn in the only way I can at the moment.

  Watson glances at me again, as if wondering why I’m still there. She probably doesn’t realize who I am.

  Wrong. She gives me a peevish smile. “Fall, isn’t it? You’re one of the sisters from up the road.”

  “Her name is Autumn,” Quinn grinds out. “And I’m even less interested now in what you have to say.”

  She dismisses his statement with a much more charming smile. She grips her sweater and tugs it closer to her body, looking like a motherly figure rather than a corporate salesperson. But her determination feels like rough sandpaper in my chest. “Yours is an impressive legacy, Mr. Harrington. We respect that and want to keep it intact. That’s what our clients love—authenticity and small-town richness. But from what I understand, you’re the last of the Harringtons, and you have no interest in running the place, isn’t that right?” Her smile turns concerned. “You’ve been gone for several years, as I understand it?”

  Quinn’s face is hard as steel. A total lock-out.

  “With your father in the hospital, I’m sure it puts a lot of stress on your mother.” Watson continues to sound genuinely concerned. Her round cheeks grow rosy in the cool air. “What we’re offering is very generous, twice the market value. It could set them up for the rest of their lives, and free you from the burden of trying to run a farm you don’t want.”

  Quinn’s energy changes in a heartbeat. It roars like fire through me. He’s equal amounts pissed that she knows anything about him and the farm, and suspicious as to why someone would pay so much for these fifty acres of ground.

  “The answer is still no.” He returns her false smile, but there’s a knife’s edge to it. He hops over the fence and steps in front of me, as if I need protection. “Don’t come back. I know who you really work for,” he says quietly, but with force. “You’re not welcome.”

  Watson takes a loud breath, giving him a face filled with resignation—for now. She shifts to look me straight in the eye. One brow arches, as if to say, “Help a girl out?”

  Sirius’s lips draw back from his teeth, showing his full set of fangs.

  I know who you really work for—Quinn’s words echo in my head. I give her a blank look, pushing a bubble of protective energy around us. Her goodie-two-shoes act is just that. Algon Corp isn’t just a company looking to buy properties for commercial use. There’s more to it.

  I search her energy for the truth, come up empty.

  Fearful at my dog, she takes a step back. “Looks vicious,” she says, and there’s a gleam in her eyes when she again meets mine. “Better keep him on a leash or I’ll have to report him to animal control.”

  “Are you threatening my dog?” My own anger catches, fiery as my red hair. “I suggest you leave and don’t return, and you won’t have any issues with him.” I step around Quinn, getting in her face. “Or the rest of us.”

  Quinn grabs my arm, pulling me back, and she gives me a rueful smile. I know I haven’t heard the last from her.

  As we watch Watson and the SUV drive away, Quinn continues to hold onto my arm.

  “What do you know about them?” I ask as I watch the vehicle turn into Mama Nightengale’s parking lot.

  “More than I’d like to. Be careful with her, Autumn.”

  My limbs are shaking, the thought of anyone impounding my dog making that Celtic blood inside me roar like a lion. My sisters, my familiar—they’re all my responsibility.

  “Anyone makes a threat against my family,” I tell him, “they’d better be careful of me.”

  7

  “I need to learn your strongest invisibility spell,” I tell Winter.

  She lifts a dark eyebrow in question. “Okay.”

  I see she wants to ask why as I fiddle with the computer, but contains her curiosity, trusting that if I need it, I need it.

  We’re in our tiny office, and I’m writing a blog post on the full moon lunar eclipse tomorrow night on Samhain. It’s a big astrological event this year, when the veil between our world and that of the spirit becomes thinner, and the eclipse gives it a magickal boost.

  Winter’s already feeling the pressure, but I’m not sure if it’s because of the thinning veil—making spirit communication much, much stronger—or the eclipse, which is making everyone a bit jumpy.

  Probably both. “Someone threatened Sirius this morning,” I tell her, “and just to be on the safe side, I need to be able to make him invisible.”

  The dog in question is under the desk at my feet. He doesn’t hear his name and his healthy snores are vibrating my chair.

  Godfrey stretches out on the desk, and my sister manages to clear a space on the antique credenza to sit. “Who?”

  Godfrey perks up an ear. Someone with good taste? I hear him answer.

  I keep typing, ignoring him and Sirius’s snoring. Summer wanted the blog post yesterday and I forgot with everything going on. “A spokesperson from that corporation that’s trying to buy local properties. Name’s Watson. She stopped at Harrington Farms this morning and tried to get Quinn to talk about selling the place. Sirius showed fang and made her nervous. She mentioned calling animal control to claim he was a vicious dog next time.”

  I sense more than see Winter roll her eyes from behind me. “I could give her hives or a flesh-eating bacteria. That would shut her up and send her on her way.”

  That is an option, but we should probably start with something less fatal. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure she’ll be leaving town soon. I just need to be on guard in case she gets antsy and tries to force our hand. Funny, she comes across like a kind lady—a Mrs. Weasley type—until you tell her no.”

  Winter instantly understands my description. “Mrs. Weasley would love Sirius,” she says as if the fictional character were real.

  “Agreed. And by the way,”—I keep typing, trying to form complete sentences on the page while talking to my sister at the same time—“they aren’t putting up condos. They want to turn our properties into some kind of hometown holiday resort.” I mimic Watson’s earlier tone of voice. “At least, that’s what she claims. From Quinn’s response, I think she’s lying and he knows it, but I couldn’t get anything out of him about why or what this Algon Corp actually is.”

  “Why would she lie?”

  I lean back and swivel to look at her, raising my hands palms up in a no idea gesture.

  Winter shrugs to say she doesn’t get it either.

  “She offered Quinn twice the market value for the farm.”

  Her eyes widen slightly. She’s dressed in black, looking exactly like a witch. No stretch for a Halloween costume. “Blood and bone, that must be a considerable amount.”

  “I’m scrying tonight to see if I can get any answers,” I tell her.

  She gets up, squeezes my shoulder. “Good luck. Let me know if you need help.”

  I dig back in after she leaves. Eclipses reveal secrets, especially concerning a person’s shadow self or the side they like to keep hidden. All the stuff we label negative—grief, sorrow, shame, anger, and fear are part of it. None of us like to face those parts of ourselves and make peace with them. Eclipse season tends to bring them to the surface, forcing us to.

  I’m putting tips at the end of the post when Summer bops her head in. “Hey, there’s a couple here to see you.”

  I glance at my watch. “I hav
e a client due shortly. Did they have an appointment?”

  She smiles. “No. They have news to share with you.”

  She motions me to follow, and I do, finding Missy Halprin waiting by the front counter. She’s tall and lithe, with long, blond hair. A transplant from Alabama. There’s a young man next to her with a dark complexion and cowboy boots who I assume is her boyfriend. She had me do their birth charts and look for compatibility. They were a solid match.

  She grins at me and does a little squeal holding up her left hand. The overhead light bounces in a rainbow around us when it reflects on the two carat diamond on it

  “You’re engaged?” I ask happily, as if it isn’t obvious.

  She throws her arms around my neck, her soft, Southern accent warm like melted butter on pancakes. “Thank you so much, Miss Autumn.”

  I often get this kind of reaction when I’ve helped people find a good match for themselves. Some don’t believe in this stuff, but those who do find their lives easier if they locate a mate who meshes in a way that nothing on the dating sites can predict.

  I hug her back and she introduces me to the young man. “This is Wayne.”

  He shakes my hand and smiles, not as excited about the whole matchmaking-by-the-stars as his girlfriend, but pleased just the same.

  “Nice to meet you,” I tell him. “I’m sure the two of you are going to be very happy for the rest of your lives.”

  He puts an arm around her, smiling self-consciously. His accent is more lower Texas. “That’s the plan, if she’ll put up with my sorry carcass.”

  “We want you to marry us,” Missy says. “You’re an ordained minister, right? You told me that when you did our charts.”

  It’s true, but not in the religious school way Quinn’s family subscribes to. My ‘church’ is alternative, still legal, and I have married a few of my clients. “When is the date?”

  “June seventh. Say you’ll do it, Autumn. We’re doing a nature theme outside, and I really want you to be there.”

  “Send me the details and I’ll mark my calendar, okay?”

  She hugs me again and I walk them to the door as she reels off some of the specifics about where they’re getting married—the National Park— the colors she’s chosen—lavender and pale yellow—and how much she’s looking forward to the holidays this year.

  When they’re gone, my faith is renewed in the whole soulmate thing. I sigh happily, enjoying her energy. Snow is licking her paws in front of the shop’s fireplace and I swear she smiles at me as I stare out the window, watching Wayne open the car door for Missy and her kissing him before she climbs in.

  I turn to find Summer and Spring behind the counter. They both clap softly with big grins on their faces. “Way to go, sis,” Summer says. “You know, we really should do weddings here on the grounds. We have the pergola and Spring’s beautiful gardens. Seems like it’d be a lovely place to get married.” She looks at Spring and winks.

  A blush streaks across Spring’s skin. “I love that idea, and in fact, Tristan and I may christen the Conjure grounds with ours.”

  “What?” Summer and I look at her, mouths open, as we realize she and Tristan have chosen a date. “That’s awesome. Whenever you’re ready,” I tell her. “You know we’ll do it up right. If you want to get married here, we’d be thrilled.”

  A shy smile tugs at the corners of her mouth and she glances down for a moment. “I’ll let you know for sure, but we’re thinking June as well. Later, I’ll show you guys the sketches I’ve done for my new wedding garden.”

  Summer and I both hug her, and Summer shoos me away to finish my blog. I definitely have to work on my plans to expand and the shop’s offerings next year.

  On top of saving our mother’s soul, figuring out what kind of relationship I have with Quinn, and preparing for my youngest sister’s wedding. I’ll need special magick to pull all that off.

  I sigh quietly as I resume my seat at the computer. Godfrey stretches and yawns, Sirius growls in his sleep, probably chasing Miss Watson in a dream. Snow wanders in and jumps on the desk to hunker down with Godfrey.

  The slip of time feels evasive and wriggles around too fast for me to catch. After I finish my post, I go to the back porch and look at the pergola, the gardens. My attention is drawn to the forest and my sleepwalking memory rears up. Last night’s dreams feel too real. The concern etched in Quinn’s face when he found me tugs at my heart. His natural instinct to protect me, worry about me, and send my sister to check on me melts the hard places inside it a little more.

  How many lifetimes have I had with him? How can I slow this one down so I can fully enjoy it?

  The dying flowers and sleeping trees offer no answers, and as a light rain begins to fall, I return to the shop and my sisters.

  8

  My last client of the day is my friend, Melisandra. She and I have known each other since grade school, and she’s one of the few who know about my abilities—at least the clairsentience and telekinesis.

  No one except my sisters and Quinn know about the astral projection, but that’s okay. It’s enough for me that she’s open-minded and practices her own form of witchcraft. She’s Wiccan, through and through, and she also knows about Quinn being back.

  After her reading to see what the next three months will bring for her, that’s the first thing she wants to talk about. “Is he still handsome? Is he still in love with you?”

  I laugh, somewhat to blow it off, and because I feel self-conscious. “Yes, very, and don’t be silly.”

  “Heard you two were sharing coffee at his place.”

  I stare at her, jaw slack with shock. “How did you find out about that?”

  She winks. Her long hair is in two braids and she stuck a silk butterfly over her left ear. “Roger was driving by and saw you having a chat. He said you looked pretty chummy.”

  Roger is her husband of six months. They’ve been together since high school, but life intervened for a while. She brought him by last summer for me to check in with his emotional state, and I was able to assure her he was still head over heels for her. I did their charts years ago and I’m so glad they’ve reunited and are very happy. “I was just finding out about…his dad,” I stutter. “He’s in the hospital. I was worried.”

  She bites her bottom lip with a goofy smile. “Oh, of course. His dad was on your mind.”

  I smack her lightly on the top of her hand, still on the table between us. “There’s nothing going on. Honestly, I don’t even know for certain where he’s been for the past five years or what he’s been doing.”

  She rises and leans over to take my hands. “My dear, sweet friend, I’m happy for you if things work out with Quinn. But if they don’t, and if he breaks your heart again, I’m going to kick his backside.”

  Everyone wants to defend me.

  I rise and hug her. “There’s no need to worry. We’re friends and always will be. What happened is water under the bridge, we’re trying to move on.”

  We break apart and she gives me a look that tells me she’s trying not to roll her eyes. “Whatever. You keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep through the night, Autumn.”

  I wave her off and walk her to the door. As we enter the shop floor, she stops sharply, and I look up to see why.

  “Hey there,” Quinn says. He lifts a hand and waves at Melisandra.

  It’s past closing and Spring is cashing out, trying not to grin. Godfrey sits on the counter, eyes half-lidded in what resembles a glare, his tail wrapped around his paws.

  “Hey,” I say. “What are you doing here?”

  Melisandra pinches my side. “I’ll just be going. Call me later.” She puts a finger and thumb to her mouth and ear like a phone and winks before letting herself out the front door.

  I lock it, flipping the sign to closed. When I turn back, Quinn’s smiling. “Is that… What was her name? Mel, wasn’t it?”

  “Quinn, what are you doing here?”

  “Have you had dinner
yet?”

  The thought of being with him sparks my interest but then I think back to the fact he hedged around telling me the truth about why he left and where he went. I wonder if tonight will be any different. “I’m eating in. I have a lot of work to catch up on.”

  His face falls. “How about some hot cider later? We could go up to the hill and look at the stars. I bet you haven’t been there in a long time.”

  The hill. One of the three tallest points in Raven Falls is on the Harrington property. In high school, the two of us often climbed to the top, spread a blanket, and stared at the stars. It’s one of my favorite places. “I haven’t since you left.”

  “Then you’re long overdue.”

  From behind me, Summer bustles out from the back. She and Spring exchange a look, and she says, “I’ll help you get caught up on your work. You have to eat, Autumn. Go have dinner. Some food and time with your favorite cosmos would do you good.”

  I glare at her, but she waves a hand, shooing me off. Change of heart?

  Thanks for the help, I say telepathically.

  My two younger sisters giggle and Summer gives me a thumbs-up before they disappear into the office.

  “I’ll accept the offer if we can stay here. I’ll fix you something in the kitchen.”

  He rubs his hands together. “Sounds like a deal. I’m happy to lend a hand.”

  My cooking skills are not on par with Spring’s, but I manage to warm a pan of squash soup and pull out a day-old bread. Quinn updates me on his father’s condition as he slices the loaf. I ask about his mom and he tells me her concerns about the farm.

  Which leads me to the Algon Corp. “Does she know Ms. Watson came by to speak to you this morning?” I ask as we sit.