The air outside is crisp and my breath forms white clouds as I exhale. I’ve never walked to Jodi’s shop before, but it only takes a few minutes when Jodi drives us there, so I figure it can’t be much more than a mile away. I check the time on my phone. Owen wants to meet fifteen minutes from now. I pick up my pace.
By the time I reach the diner, I’m rubbing my arms, wishing I’d worn my jacket. Owen sits in a booth near the back of the diner and I go to him. I scan the room for Lexie, Bria, West—someone—but I don’t recognize anyone else.
“Thanks for coming,” Owen says when I sit across from him. “Did you walk here? I’m sorry—I should’ve picked you up. I’m just… I’m not thinking straight right now.”
“Yeah, I understand,” I say. “I still can’t believe she’s gone.”
Owen shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. I mean, yeah, Mrs. Cole is part of it. But something else happened last night. And I need to talk to someone about it.”
The first question that floats to my mind escapes through my lips before I can stop it. “What about Lexie?”
The corners of his mouth upturn for an instant and he runs his fingers through his hair. “No way. I can’t tell her this. I’d never hear the end of it.”
A waitress bustles up to the table and asks whether I want coffee. Though I don’t normally drink it, I need something to warm me up so I accept the offer. After she pours it, I wrap my hands around the mug, allowing the warmth to seep into my skin.
“So, what’s going on?” I ask.
Owen takes in a breath and releases it slowly. “This is gonna sound crazy, but stay with me, okay?”
“Of course.”
He takes a sip from his coffee mug, pulls a face, and adds two creamers. “Felix was in an accident last night after the dance.”
“Oh, no! Is he okay?”
Owen nods. “He’s fine. His car’s a little worse off than he is, but it’s not totaled or anything. He was on his way home from Tucker’s house and he says a cat was in the road or something and he ended up hitting a telephone pole.”
Felix was drinking last night at the dance. I knew that. And while it is certainly scary that he was in an accident, it doesn’t sound crazy. I wait for Owen to continue.
“He called me right after it happened. But I was already on my way there. Somehow, I knew it happened. I knew right where he was.” He looks up, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. “I knew it because I saw it. I saw it yesterday at lunch.”
My breath catches in my throat. “You saw it?”
Owen rubs his forehead with his hand. “I know, it sounds nuts. And I’d just write it off as a coincidence, except… When we were dancing, I knew something was wrong before that girl started yelling about Mrs. Cole. I felt this…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. It’s crazy, right?”
He wants me to agree with him, to soothe him, to give him a plausible explanation for what’s happening. But I can’t do that. Instead of feeling the fear and doubt I see in his eyes, I feel a kind of elation.
I’m not the only one.
“How… how long has it been happening?” I ask, my voice shaking ever so slightly.
His mouth twitches and he shakes his head. “You don’t believe me. Not that I blame you—”
I reach toward him, my hand resting on the tabletop in the space between us. “No, no—I do. I do believe you.”
He offers a half smile. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be nice to me about this. I just… I needed to tell someone. I know it sounds crazy. Even to me, it sounds crazy.”
I bite my lower lip. How can I make him understand that I do believe him? If I tell him I have flashes too, he might think I’m making it up to make him feel better. Or, worse, he might think I’m as crazy as he thinks he is. He wraps his hands around his coffee mug and on impulse, I cover them with mine.
The flash overtakes me immediately and I gasp. In my mind’s eye, I see Owen and me standing at the bank of the river. We’re holding hands, and while the energy between us is intense, it isn’t romantic. As we stand there, the river stills, appearing frozen, even though the wind around us picks up, encircling us, catching my hair up in the swirling vortex. Then, just as abruptly as it began, the wind dies and the river starts moving again.
The vision fades and Owen comes into focus. His chest heaves as his breath comes in heavy pants. His blue eyes are wide as they fix on mine. “Did you see that?”
No words come when I try to speak, so I nod my head.
“What was it?”
I cast my eyes around the diner to see if anyone is watching us. At the counter is a man reading the paper, and there’s a family of four in a booth by the door. No one looks in our direction. I lean over the table. “I’m not sure what they are, but I’ve had flashes like that for… years.”
“Really?”
I nod. “The first time I can remember having one like that was five years ago. And I had one the day I got to Jodi’s house.” I pull the ring out from under my shirt and stretch it toward him as far as the chain will allow. “I put on this ring and I saw my dad. But it was the past—back when he lived in my house. I can’t explain it.” I think back to that day and what Jodi told me. “Apparently some scientists think time doesn’t really exist the way we experience it—that instead, all things happen at all times. Maybe… maybe we’re just able to see those things sometimes.”
He shakes his head. “That’s ridiculous. Things begin and things end. Actions have consequences. That’s how time works. I mean, that’s why we can remember the past, right? Because it already happened. If the future already happened too, then we’d be able to remember the future.”
“I don’t know how to explain it. But I also don’t know how to explain how we could possibly know what’s going to happen in the future—or see what’s happened in the past.”
“You said this has happened to you before. Do you know what causes it? Or how to control it?”
I look down at my hands. His tone is desperate, but I can’t give him the answer he wants. “No. I don’t know how to control any of it.”
I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. Owen leans toward me. “Any of it? What else can you do?”
He makes it sound like a trick or a skill, and he sounds so hopeful, like I can help him. I want to tell him to forget I said anything, but the eagerness in his eyes prompts me to go on. “Sometimes it’s not the past or the future—sometimes it’s the present I get impressions about. Sometimes I know what people are thinking.”
Owen’s jaw actually drops. He nods encouragingly. “Okay, what am I thinking?”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t work like that. I told you, I can’t control it. Usually it happens when I’m upset or scared. But even then, there’s no guarantee I’ll be able to tell what’s on someone’s mind. Sometimes something else happens.”
“What?”
I bite my lower lip. “Things tend to… break… around me. Or sometimes they fall down. Or explode.”
A grin flashes across Owen’s face. “That’s so cool.”
Relief swells like a bubble in my chest. I’ve never once considered any of the things I can do cool, but when Owen says it, I can almost convince myself it’s true. “Believe me, it’s not as great as you think it is.” I press my lips together, hesitant to go on. But I’ve already shared things with him I haven’t said aloud for years. I can’t stop now. “When I was younger, I told some of my friends about the things I saw or the thoughts I overheard. At first, I think they all thought it was funny—like I was just making it up. But when I started getting impressions about them, about their secrets, they all turned on me. I was a freak, and everyone knew it. And as the years passed, no one remembered why anymore, they just remembered the label. No one wanted anything to do with me. Like I was toxic or something. They were… They were awful to me. And when I’d get all worked up, things would happen. I used to get into trouble all the time at my last school for vandalism and things like that.
” I look down at the table as I say it, afraid of what I’ll see in Owen’s face. He’s quiet for a beat longer than is comfortable and I look up at him. His eyes are soft, thoughtful. A smile touches his lips as he shakes his head and sighs.
“I’m gonna owe Lexie the biggest apology in the history of the world.”
This is not the reaction I expected. I just told him one of my most shameful secrets and his comment is about Lexie. Anger flares up in me momentarily, until I look into his eyes again. My story hasn’t changed the way he looks at me. I accepted his secret and he accepts mine. I take a breath. “Why do you owe her an apology?”
“I’ve spent the past couple years scoffing at her Crystal-is-a-witch theory. But now… Do you think that’s what it is? Do you think that’s what we are? Well, you. Me… What do you call a guy witch?”
I shrug. “A wizard? I don’t know.”
“I wish there was someone we could talk to about this. I mean, if Lexie’s right, then there’s Crystal, but…”
I nod, understanding what he means. She isn’t my first choice of person to talk to either.
“What about… I mean, do you think… Jodi?”
I consider this. Based on the kinds of things she sells at her shop, it seems logical that if she’s not a witch herself, she would at least know a little about them. “There’s only one way to find out.”
I pull a handful of bills out of my back pocket and toss them on the table before scooting out of the booth. Owen follows me, pressing past me to get to the door first so he can hold it open.
“You didn’t have to pay,” he murmurs as he leads the way to his car.
“It’s no problem. You can get next time.”
He smiles as he pulls open the driver side door. “Count on it.”
Chapter Twenty
I push open the front door of my house cautiously. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to bring Owen home—not today. What if Jodi is still in bed? I can’t say I would blame her if she was: Her best friend died yesterday.
But as I cross the threshold, the teakettle begins to whistle and I know Jodi is up. Still, I hold a hand up toward Owen, motioning for him to stay by the door while I move toward the kitchen. If Jodi’s in pajamas and a mud mask, she might not want a visitor.
Jodi is pouring hot water into a big blue mug when I round the corner and she is, to my surprise, dressed in jeans and a sweater.
“How are you?”
Jodi jumps, hot water sloshing onto the counter. She turns to me, hand pressed to her chest. “Krissa. You scared the life out of me.” She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head. “Not literally, of course.” She opens her eyes and sets the kettle back on the stove. “There’s more water, if you want some tea.”
“Maybe later.” I step into the kitchen, studying Jodi’s face. Her eyes are puffy; she’s been crying. I bite my lower lip. Perhaps this isn’t the best time to ask her the questions buzzing around in my head.
A floorboard creaks and Jodi looks in the direction of the front door. “Is someone here?”
I nod. “Yeah. It’s Owen. We actually… We wanted to ask you some things. We thought you might know about…” I can’t make my mouth form the words. “If it’s not a good time, we can maybe do it later. In a few days or…”
Jodi’s narrows her eyes, revealing the slightest wrinkles crinkling the delicate skin around them. After a moment, her shoulders relax and she picks up her mug, cradling it between both hands. “Let’s sit in the dining room.”
I walk to the dining room and wave Owen over. He settles in the chair beside me. Jodi sits at the head of the table and takes a long sip of her tea before nodding at me. “What is it?”
I look to Owen, hoping he’s come up with the right thing to ask without making both of us sound crazy. The look on his face tells me he assumed I would be the one asking questions. I sigh, turning back to Jodi. “We have a theory,” I begin. “Well, Lexie has a theory—and Owen didn’t really believe it until last night.” Jodi shifts and I silently curse myself before pressing on. “We think you might know something—because of your store and the Barnettes being one of the founding families and all. But if you don’t know anything, that’s fine too. Because we’re just curious, really, and…”
Owen puts his hand on my forearm and leans close to me, toward Jodi. “Jodi, do you know anything about witches?”
Jodi takes another sip of her tea. The movement is so slow and deliberate I wonder if she’s doing it to stall for time. Is she trying to think of something kind to say to keep us from feeling like complete idiots for asking such a question, for thinking such a thing even exists? She takes so long surveying us that when she finally answers, I’m not sure I’ve heard her right.
“What do you want to know?”
Owen and I exchange glances. The short answer is everything, but I figure such a broad response won’t help. “Lexie thinks Crystal Jamison is a witch. She says some of her friends are witches too.”
Jodi shrugs. “She’s not the first to think there’s something special about the founding families.”
I sigh. It wasn’t really the kind of response I’d been hoping for. Then again, I didn’t really ask a question.
“But I’m not from a founding family,” Owen blurts out. “My grandparents are the ones who moved here before my dad was born.”
Jodi’s face softens. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
Owen’s hand finds mine and he squeezes it. Taking this as a cue, I tell Jodi about what he told me at the diner, as well as the vision we shared and that I’d seen a flash the first time I put on my dad’s ring.
Jodi’s face is impassive. Once I’m done talking, she takes another sip from her mug, then stands and goes to the hutch in the corner of the room and opens a cabinet at the bottom. After rummaging for a few seconds, she pulls out an envelope and a white taper candle. I recognize the candle as the same kind she sells at the shop. She brings the candle and a holder to the table and sets them on the top, in front of me. The envelope she keeps near her. “Witches,” she says as she settles back down in her chair, “are able to channel and control energy. They can manipulate elements—earth, air, fire, water. Krissa, I told you once that people can use crystals to direct energy, you remember that?”
I nod.
“Anyone can do it. Some stones naturally harness certain energies. So, if you wear something made with tiger’s eye, for instance, it can draw in prosperity and pass it on to you. No experience needed. But if you want to, say, come into some money, just wearing the tiger’s eye might not be enough. That’s when you might want to cast a spell to really focus and channel the energy. Now, anyone can find a spell and cast it—I mean, there are a billion sites on the Internet. But not everyone possesses the ability to really make it happen. Some people are naturally gifted with those abilities—that magic. And those people are witches.”
The cadence of my heart increases. They’re real. I don’t know why, but I was sure Jodi was going to tell us we were being silly—of course there aren’t real witches. But there’s no humor or malice in her eyes. She’s not lying to us now.
Owen shifts in his chair. He’s still holding my hand and his chest brushes against my shoulder. “So that’s it, then. We’re witches.”
Jodi shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”
“But you just said—”
She holds up her hand. “I said witches use magic to manipulate the energy of nature. Accessing time is completely different. Witches can’t do that.”
“Well, who can?”
Jodi picks up the envelope from the table, fingering it with trembling fingers. “Look, I’m about to tell you something, and I’d really like it if you could try to cut me a little slack and not go straight to pissed teenager, okay?”
“I’ll try,” I say, not sure what Jodi could say that would upset me. I eye the envelope. “What’s that?”
Jodi takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. “I lied to you. When you a
sked me if I was in contact with your dad. I mean, I’m not really in contact with him, but he’s been in contact with me—infrequently, of course—over the years. He’ll send me odd notes—and I do mean odd. Often there’s no context and I’ve got to figure them out on my own.”
A chill courses through my body and I shiver. Owen squeezes my fingers. “Why would he do that?”
She shakes her head. “He didn’t just leave to leave. He wouldn’t have left you and your mom if he didn’t think it was important—that he had no other choice.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks and I turn my face away from Owen. A wave of shame envelops me. I haven’t told him about my parents, and I don’t like that he’s here to find out from Jodi. I want to believe what she’s saying, but I can’t bring myself to. What could be more important than being there for my mom and me? And what about once Mom died? Why did it fall on Jodi to take care of me? I stuff down the questions swirling in my mind. “What’s in the letter?”
Jodi unfolds the envelope’s flap and carefully pulls out the contents. She slides it to me and I move it so Owen can see too. The piece of paper I press flat on the tabletop is a scan of what appears to be a very old list of some sort.
“A genealogy,” Owen says quietly. “A family tree.”
I look at Jodi. “So, what? There’s something weird about our family tree?”
She shakes her head. “Not ours. Yours. This is your mom’s family.”
I slide the paper closer to me and lean in so I can get a better look at it. I scan the bottom of the page, but my name isn’t present. Neither is my mother’s. “How do you know?”
“Believe me, that took some digging. This is all your dad sent me. No note, nothing else. I had the same first instinct as you and wasted weeks trying to tie this list to the Barnette line. But it’s your mom’s family line. Your dad wanted me to know something about her.” She leans across the table and points to a spot toward the center of the page. The spidery handwriting is difficult to make out.
Crystal Magic (Clearwater Witches Book 1) Page 13