All Spell is Breaking Loose: Lexi Balefire: Matchmaking Witch (Fate Weaver Book 2)

by Welling, ReGina

  "Um, yeah, that's the gist of it."

  "Well, isn't that wonderful. I don't have a prayer, do I?"

  "That might be the only thing you do have. I told you before, you're connected to the gods more closely than you realize. It might just save your butt one day."

  "I get it from her. You know that, right?" I looked Salem square in the eyes, "it's not just about being a Balefire. Clara was a Balefire, too. And the power of sight was not her strong suit."

  "How do you know that? Did Sylvana say that? Because I don't trust her as far as I--" Salem stopped himself at my raised eyebrow.

  "I know because I've been studying the Book of Shadows like you told me to. Come on, I'll show you." I dragged him down the stairs, through the fireplace, and into the sanctum where the tome lay open to the exact page I was looking for.

  "I recognized Clara's handwriting from the one thin journal she left behind. It's the same as what's in the margins of just about every divining spell in the book. Take a look; she tried different variations for all of them. Why would she do that if she had the sight already?"

  "Good point and excellent job picking up on that; I'm impressed."

  "If that's what I'm good at, then shouldn't I try to refining that skill first?" It seemed logical to me.

  "I think that's exactly what we should do."

  ***

  We holed up in the sanctum, which was turning into just that for me. The ancient couches were padded with throw blankets and pillows in a variety of vibrant colors to brighten up the space, and I had hung a few tapestries on the walls and dusted off some hand-woven rugs I'd found rolled in a cobweb-covered corner. I'd stocked the alchemy station with an assortment of teas I favored, and a variation of Terra's clean charm kept the dust at bay.

  "Let's start with scrying since I've already seen you do it once." When Kin's soul was in jeopardy, I had used the skill to figure out where Jett was holed up; as it turned out, he had been close by at the home of the one and only Serena Snodgrass. It was entirely possible that the close proximity had more to do with my success than latent skill. Turns out, I was due for some good karma.

  I laid the necessary materials out in front of me: a map; a teardrop-shaped clear quartz crystal on a silver chain; several candles; a cup of water; and a mugwort infusion. When everything was ready, I called to the Goddesses of the east and dipped my fingers in the water before asking the pendulum to show me where FootSwept Matchmaking was located. The tip of the pendulum whirled a couple times before slapping down on the map with a thump.

  "Score. A direct hit."

  "That was easy. Now let's try something farther away." Salem nodded in approval.

  Four more times I scryed, testing my capabilities, until finally, it became apparent my power stretched halfway across the globe, at least. The pendulum showed me the current location of a displayed Monet painting (which I double-checked on the Internet), the tomb where Elvis's body is buried (he's dead, people, deal with it), and confirmed that Kin was, in fact, at the local radio station where he composed commercial jingles during the day (right where he was supposed to be). I tried sneaking a peek at where Sylvana was spending her time but came up with nothing.

  She probably had some sort of cloaking spell cast around herself for exactly this reason. My heart sank at the thought because it probably meant Cupid's bow was similarly protected. I checked anyway, brushing away Salem's protests, only to have my suspicions confirmed. If Clara knew that Sylvana's strength was divination, she'd have done everything she could to keep her daughter away from it, effectively blocking me as well.

  "I think you've proved yourself; we can move on to tarot cards, or the crystal ball if you'd like."

  "Crystal ball. Let's try that."

  We moved further into the recesses of the sanctum, to a small round table with two comfortable wingback chairs. In the center of an ornately-carved wooden pedestal rested a transparent sphere of quartz crystal about the size of a cantaloupe. I could tell from the energy vibrating off the stone that it was made of ancient, authentic quartz and not one of those new-age hunks of glass you find in most magic shops these days. It must have been worth a small fortune; not that I would ever consider selling even one piece of my family history.

  "Gazing requires a high level of concentration and discipline, as well as the ability to interpret what you See. Also, you must remember that nothing is set in stone; whatever you See can and probably will change based on the choices you make. Or, it's possible that you'll make choices in an attempt to change the outcome, and wind up causing the very problem you were trying to avoid. It's not to be taken lightly."

  I nodded, barely hearing what Salem was prattling on about. I had my own goal in mind, and nothing would sway me from making it a reality.

  "Now," Salem instructed while lighting a cone of my favorite sandalwood incense, "gaze into the crystal, keep your eyes relaxed and your thoughts on what you are trying to See. Focus your mind, and take deep breaths, in and out."

  He continued to speak in a slow, soothing tones, lulling me into an almost trance-like state while I channeled all of my intent into being shown how to find the Bow of Destiny. Just when the thought that perhaps I wouldn't be able to See a blasted thing flitted across my mind, the cloud of incense smoke began to coalesce, rotating into a miniature wind tunnel, and then rushing into the quartz sphere. The cloud reformed into a blurry image, and as I bent forward to get a better look it solidified into a scene so real I could have been watching a tiny movie screen.

  It was me; I recognized the back of my own head, dark tendrils of unkempt hair cascading down my back. A nearly identical figure marched beside me through a dense forest, her shoulders tense with either worry or excitement. The forest itself wasn't familiar to me, but it reeked of magic. The smell hit me so hard and unexpectedly it made my nostrils flare, and that's when I realized that I was no longer just watching; I was actually inside my body, inside the crystal ball, but as a passenger, unable to control my limbs or affect the situation.

  As we walked, I realized I was the one leading Sylvana, and also that it was decidedly excitement working her into a tizzy. She clearly wanted to find the bow, and badly. Not only was I able to sense the Bow of Destiny, but I could also feel the familiar sensation of being guided by my LPS. Only this time, I wasn't searching for matches--I was searching for an item of power that veritably beckoned to me, begging to be wielded by a Fate Weaver once more. And, even better, I felt confident and in control; not nauseated or weak in the knees as I had the last few times I'd been compelled. It was as if both sides of my psyche were working together rather than fighting one another for top billing. In the vision, I felt like a Fate Weaver; not two separate sides of the same coin.

  Just as quickly as the vision had taken hold, it evaporated. Perhaps it was my excitement that made me pull focus, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Salem was the responsible party and that the vague pain in my knee had something to do with a strategically-placed kitty claw.

  Now, he was staring at me with a worried expression. "Are you all right? I was starting to get worried."

  "I got what I needed." Well, maybe not exactly, but at least now I knew there was a key to the lock I'd been desperately trying to pick ever since realizing I was more than just a witch. All that was left to do was find it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  "But I don't want to go to the vet," Salem whined. "He'll probably try to give me a shot."

  "I know, and I'm sorry, but everything is all set, and I need you to help me pull this off, so you're going to follow me, and when we're close, you'll get into the cat carrier. Act like you're sick when we get there, and I promise I'll make it up to you later. Don't you want to help Mona's mom make a love connection?"

  "I ought to make you carry me the whole way."

  "Try it, and I'll strap you backward on Pinky, and by the time we get there, you really will be sick."

  "None of my other witches treated me like this."

 
; "And how many of them bought you gourmet salmon mousse?"

  "Fine, I'll do it, but if I end up having to get a shot, you're buying me a whole rotisserie chicken."

  "Getting sick of seafood? If you pull this off, it's a deal."

  "You doubt my acting skills? I had you fooled for ten years."

  "What do you want? An Academy Award? You acted like a cat, you are a cat. How much acting skill did it take? Please, do this for me. Mona's mother deserves a happy ending. Did I tell you she's a widow?"

  Resigned, Salem morphed and followed me out the door.

  When Mona and her mother turned the corner near Dr. Cooper's vet clinic, we were ready.

  "Look, there's Lexi." Mona chirped and made a beeline for where I stood. "Oh dear, what's the matter." Her acting skills were better than Salem's, not that I would say that in front of him.

  Affecting a panicked expression, I gestured with the cat carrier. "It's my cat. I think something is horribly wrong with my Salem. I don't know what I would do without him." Playing my own role to the hilt, I let my hand tremble and my voice quaver with tears. "I'm so scared, do you think you could come in with me, you know, just in case..."

  "Of course we can, right Mom? Lexi shouldn't be alone at a time like this."

  Vivienne surreptitiously glanced at her watch but gave in gracefully. I mean, really, who wants to sit in a vet's office comforting someone they barely know over a sick cat? Worse, I dragged the two of them right into the examining room with me. Mona gave me a subtle elbow to the rib when Dr. Cooper stepped through the door.

  Tall and soft-spoken, Levi Cooper walked like he spent time in a saddle. Tanned skin and sun-streaked hair that ran darker in winter added to the cowboy appeal of his chiseled face, now frowning in concern. Salem acted his part to perfection by sprawling on the cold metal table as though too weak to hold up his head, and I felt a pang over playing such a deception on someone so deeply committed to his job.

  Still, he hadn't spared more than a glance for Vivienne and Salem wasn't really sick, so I needed to do something to get the ball rolling. Normally, when I arrange the first meeting between two matches, one of the pair has secured my services and puts a little effort into showing interest in the other. Staging a chance encounter like this wasn't my thing.

  "These are my friends Mona and Vivienne. I dragged them in here for moral support because I'm so worried about Salem." In return, Dr. Cooper asked me a question about Salem's bathroom habits. What was I supposed to say? He scoops his own litter pan these days.

  Salem's acting was so convincing that he kept Dr. Cooper's focus away from the attractive woman standing next to me, and so--even knowing it was going to cost me later, I waited for my moment and pinched his tail.

  Narcolepsy boy took the hint and bounced up off the table like his butt was on fire, and his belly was a powder keg. That he managed to stripe my hand in the process, I'm sure, was a bonus, but bless him, he did the right thing. Two steps and he took a flying leap at Vivienne's chest. Out of reflex, her arms came up to catch him, and Levi Cooper finally took a good look at the beautiful woman holding the inky cat.

  The man blushed. I mean, couldn't you just die? How cute is that? Vivienne's lips curved in that way a woman's do when she knows a man finds her intriguing and Mona looked like she was attempting to suppress a squeal. The excitement leaked out in the form of an elbow in my ribs.

  Putting together couples of a certain age can be tricky because they require more work. Initial proximity isn't always enough to guarantee a solid connection for those who are used to a slower, subtle pace to their rhythm. Levi chatted with Vivienne about Salem's possible ailments as though she had been the one to bring him in, but there was nothing of a personal nature in their conversation.

  "It seems our patient has undergone a spontaneous recovery." Dr. Cooper's tone was as dry as the disinfectant-scented air in his office. Salem's purr filled the close quarters with sound.

  He refrained from using the term hypochondriac--I didn't know that was a thing with animals--and suggested running a series of tests, the notion of which wiped Salem clean of any residual smugness. To prove his state of well-being, Salem squirmed out of Vivienne's arms, hit the metal table with a resounding thud, then executed a standing back flip in pursuit of a bug not much bigger than a fruit fly.

  Dr. Cooper allowed that testing might be premature, advised more interactive playtime, and encouraged a return visit should symptoms recur. I retrieved my cat and made a great show of putting him in the carrier to give the older couple a little more time. Levi didn't take the bait, so finally, Mona filed out of the examining room ahead of me, her mother following closely behind.

  "Oh no. I left my purse back there. Vivienne, since you're closest, could you be a dear and grab it for me?" She was gone for a lot longer than it took to retrieve my handbag and exited the exam room door with a Mona Lisa smile.

  If I wasn't mistaken, Vivienne had a date.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Could I just have one day free of dealing with mothers in one form or another? If this was some cosmic signal, I wish it had come with a code key because all I could interpret was a scrambled mess of static. That seemed the only kind I was destined to receive from the gods, and I was starting to think that side of the family was a bunch of jerks and I'd skip the family reunion, thank-you-very-much.

  Clearly, I was having some seriously mixed feelings about my mother lately; plus, the complications of Terra, Evian, and Soleil to think about. I'd had Mona's mom to deal with, and the near-perfect (at least from my perspective) relationship between the two of them to watch and envy. And now, I was being forced to meet Kin's mother. Okay, forced is probably not the most accurate word to use; I had enthusiastically agreed to the introduction, but it's not like I could have refused, especially with the excitement in Kin's voice when he asked.

  I'd gone from being a loner to having way too many people vying for my time. And now I sounded like an ungrateful witch with a capital B. My mother had come back from the dead in a moment worthy of a soap opera. In fact, my whole life was taking on that sort of quality. The only thing missing was the aging matriarch who seems benign, but is the one pulling all the strings. Unless you count my stoned grandmother in that capacity.

  None of this was any excuse for trying to duck out of meeting Kin's mother. She had to be a lovely woman to have raised such a wonderful man, right? It's just that I've never had a relationship serious enough to get the meet-my-mom stage. What if she didn't like me?

  This thing with Kin seems like it's moving way too fast sometimes. Probably comes from sharing true love's kiss before he'd even had a chance to see me in my laundry day granny panties. Now, meeting his mother felt a lot like picking out china patterns and I wasn't sure I was ready for all that. On the other hand, Kin has been the Mary Poppins of boyfriends, practically perfect in every way.

  Come on, Lexi. How bad could it be? Put on something pretty and meet the nice lady who probably won't be watching you like a hawk for signs you're not the right woman for her precious son. I wagged a mental finger at myself and stepped into the closet at FootSwept Matchmaking.

  Yes, I have a closet full of clothes at my place of business. Designer stuff, mostly, that I get from former clients of one kind or another. I'll tell you a secret. My matchmaking abilities are not limited to creating couples; if the bottom fell out tomorrow, I could make a killing as a corporate headhunter.

  One aspect of what I do is helping clients feel their best. By the time they get to me, a lot of them, men and women alike, have been through the dating wringer. They stagger into my office a raw and bloody mess. What I give them isn't strictly what you'd call a makeover so much as emotional triage.

  I hit the street a minute late, but confident I could make up the time by taking one of my shortcuts. What I didn't count on was the dark wave of compulsion that was becoming increasingly familiar to me. The need to follow the tug in my gut fought against my desire not to disappoint Kin an
d won. Reaching for my phone to let him know I would be late, I realized it was still sitting on my desk at FootSwept. Then I forgot all about the phone and Kin as my LPS chattered to screaming life. I could no more ignore it's directing presence than I could stop the incoming tide and I let compulsion carry me away. Like Calgon, only without the warm bath and soft skin.

  Voices raised in anger cut the air like knives.

  "You're scum."

  "Are you high? I'm not cheating on you with that woman, I've never seen her before in my life."

  "No, I'm not high, you jerk, and I'm not blind either. You think I can't see the way you're looking at her."

  My attention homed in, not on the fighting couple taking advantage of the outdoor café seating, but the one avidly watching the spectacle from across the street. Jett and Serena. I should have known. Under other circumstances, I'd have relished the opportunity to ask my half-brother a couple of pointed questions about our family traits--and when I say pointed, I mean with something sharp staring him in the face while he answered. However, since our sibling relationship was already based on an intense dislike, and since I'd nearly killed his girlfriend during our last encounter, I doubted even threats would force the truth from his lips.

  Too bad the Cupid half of my life didn't come with a user's manual.

  After a mental game of eenie-meenie-miney-mo, I sat down at the table next to the fighting couple and, pinning Jett with a na-na boo-boo look (I was feeling very juvenile around him for some reason), cast a shield over our two tables. The look on Jett's face when the fight ended was almost enough reward for missing dinner and the inevitable discussion I would be having with Kin later. Almost.

  I also made a mental note to talk to Salem about creating a batch of protection charms against my brother's influence. Something small and innocuous might work. I could be the Johnny Appleseed of love, sprinkling magical protection over the city. Don't mock; I have a vivid imagination.