by Delia James
I felt something, distant but strong, ebbing away, and I knew for a fact that if I went back into that condo, I wouldn’t feel anything out of the ordinary.
Except maybe one thing. But I didn’t quite know how to bring it up. At least, I didn’t until I’d said good-bye to all my coven sisters, and Julia and I were alone in the living room, with Max and Leo curled up asleep with Alistair, in front of the fireplace.
Julia settled herself onto my couch. “You have something you want to talk about, Anna,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
“Well, yes. No. It’s not important.”
Julia sat and waited. Julia was good at waiting.
“I think I did . . . I did something unforgivable.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“You’ve . . . we’ve . . . talked about how you should never use your magic to directly influence another person.”
“We have,” she agreed.
“But, when Rachael was attacking Pam, I . . . turned my Vibe on her. On both of them, really. I wanted them to know what . . . what it felt like when somebody died.”
“You did it to save a life. It was within the bounds of the threefold law.”
“You didn’t see their faces. You didn’t hear . . .”
Julia stopped me. “Are their faces really the problem, Anna?”
I shook my head. “I wanted to hurt her. I mean, I really wanted to hurt them both. I wanted . . . I could have . . .”
“But you didn’t.”
“I wanted to,” I said again.
“And when the moment came, you turned away. You used your power to save, not to destroy.” Julia reached over and took my hand. “I am proud of you.” She paused. “It was, however, rather sloppily executed. We will have to work more on your focus.”
“Yes, Julia,” I said meekly.
After that conversation, there was only one other piece of business to take care of. Well, after that conversation, and after I had a good long sleep, and possibly the biggest breakfast ever eaten at the Friendly Toast.
There was a phone call to Sedona, Arizona.
“Anna!” cried Grandma B.B. as soon as she picked up on the other end. “I’ve heard the news! They’ve caught Ramona’s killer! You have to tell me what happened! Are you all right, dear?”
“I am, Grandma. Really. Promise.” I looked at Alistair, who was sitting on the kitchen windowsill. He yawned. He’d heard it all before.
“Oh, thank heavens,” said Grandma. “I’ve been so worried. You should have told—”
“That’s what I’m calling about, Grandma,” I cut her off.
“I don’t understand, dear.”
“Telling people what’s really going on. I’m going to tell our family that I’m a witch. And I’m going to do it at Thanksgiving so they’ll all get to hear it at once, and if Dad gets mad, he can get mad. And if . . . and if he stops talking to me . . . well, that’s going to be his decision. I . . . I’m not going to keep this secret from them anymore. Especially not from Ginger and Bob.”
“Ginger and Bob?” breathed Grandma.
“Yeah. Grandma, they’re having a baby. Have you thought about the fact that this one might be a girl? She might inherit the magic.”
Grandma B.B. was silent for a long time, and when she did speak again, it was so softly I could barely hear her. “Yes. I have thought about that a great deal lately.”
“So.” I tried to gather my nerve. “You do what you have to, but this is my decision.”
“Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, of course.” I heard voices in the background. “Oh, dear. That’s James and his brother. They’re here to help me with the attic and the mudroom. I have to go, Anna . . .”
“Sure. We’re not done, though.”
“No, I know that.”
“I love you, Grandma B.B.”
“And I love you, Anna.”
She hung up and I hung up and let out a very long breath. Well, that was done. I just wish I knew what was going to happen next.
“Merow,” Alistair said, firmly.
“I know, I know, big guy,” I told him. “And, honest, I wasn’t going to argue!”
About the Author
Born in California and raised in Michigan, Delia James writes her tales of magic, cats and mystery from her hundred-year-old bungalow home in Ann Arbor. She is the author of the Witch’s Cat Mysteries, which include By Familiar Means and A Familiar Tail. When not writing, she hikes, swims, gardens, cooks, reads and raises her rapidly growing son. Visit her online at deliajamesmysteries.com.
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