Caitlin's Book of Shadows (Antique Magic #2), Page 2

  Caitlin pursed her lips, thinking. “I’ll see if I can talk Trevor into a wreath, but you know, it’s just us.”

  On the other hand, she noticed even Beryl strung lights around her palm trees.

  “Without it, it’s easy to tell you don’t have kids.” A smile played around Sealya’s lips. “Yet.”

  She waved a hand and picked up the water carafe. “I don’t want children. I’ve got enough to worry about.”

  “Who says it’s a worry?”

  “I don’t see any of you with children,” she pointed out, and instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry, my friends, I just meant—”

  Beryl hugged her. “Don’t worry. One day we can all be old grannies together.”

  Caitlin snorted. “Give it a rest. Look, I’m enjoying having my hubby back. Let me be greedy for a while.”

  Beryl stuck out her tongue and faced east, raising her arms to initiate the blessing.

  *~*~*

  Caitlin ran her fingers over the poinsettia leaves pleased at their heartiness, but noticed the rest of her garden starting to hunker down. The rosemary seemed the only other one happy right now. The little bush by the door—like a mini Yule tree—proved very pretty. Trevor had helped her hang lights across the eaves and the Christmas tree inside awaited the final decorations. Nothing too gaudy: A little touch of color to the green and brown of Florida’s winters. Heather’s guess proved correct: the decorations did much to improve her mood.

  Next door, Mrs. Holmes seemed to be going all out, with lights and pine boughs everywhere. Across the street, she could see some singing light sculptures and giant, glowing Santas.

  Caitlin tugged open the mailbox and pulled out a handful of bills, and a few Christmas cards. One from Noah and Jillian, one from her mother and father, one from her aunt and uncle. There were even some from her old college friends in California. I should call them, she thought, and ran back to the house. She thumbed through the rest of the mail. A card from Michela caught her eye, just as a story came on the news about the Mayan calendar. Caitlin snorted, recalling her conversation with Michela last night. She slipped off her sweater and crossed into the kitchen. A cup of tea would warm her up and push away thoughts of death and the end of the world.

  ~4~

  December 31: Midnight on New Year’s eve, she woke up to fireworks and gunshots, the noise pulling her from a dream of her soldier. He and Kate kissed under a sprig of Mistletoe. Pre-Pickens.

  She smiled and turned over to kiss her own husband. He mumbled something about noise and turned over.

  Roland slipped into her thoughts again. Was that a dream? or something from Kate seeping through—or Roland? Whatever, she thought it sweet. They were very happy before the war, it seemed. Damn the Union, she thought. Kate should’ve never let him go. She should’ve packed him up and moved to France. She wondered why they didn’t.

  She poked Trevor’s arm. “Hey.”

  “What?” he mumbled.

  She wished many things for the New Year: she wanted to learn more about the magic Beryl taught her; she wanted to read more folklore; she wanted to go wild with her garden and make it akin to the botanical gardens. One very important wish trumped them all, however. “Let’s go to New York.”

  He opened one eye to look at her. “Why?”

  “I want to find Roland’s home site, learn more of Kate Fulmer. Who was she, besides his wife, and your great grandma?”

  “What about Starfort Collectibles?”

  She shrugged. “Everyone needs a vacation now and then.”

  “Can I afford it?”

  With what Arianrhod gave them? “We had good Christmas sales and a good first week.”

  “For now.”

  She curled her hand under his arm. “Please?”

  He sighed and pulled her head onto his chest. Kissed her temple. “We’ll see how the New Year treats us, then, maybe.”

  ~5~

  January 7th 1PM

  “I can’t wait for the spring thaw,” she complained, sliding her coat off. “Come on, late February!”

  “No,” Trevor said, sweeping the shop’s floor. “Can we skip February?”

  Her heart twisted and she smoothed a hand down his arm. February would mark one year since Gordon’s death—and what a year it had been! She shuddered, not wanting to remember. “I’m sorry, honey.” She wondered if more peace spells were in order.

  “Personally, I can’t wait to get back out in my garden. I’ve been reading about the cultivation of orange trees. I’d love to add one! I’m sure we can fit it in. Maybe place it in the west corner of the yard.”

  Trevor frowned and turned back to his work. “We’ll see. Are you going to have room after the Christmas tree?”

  “Of course.” She sighed and swept a duster over the elaborate Hulish figurines he’d set on a table near the shop’s front window. “I wonder if it will survive the hot summer. Probably not. If it doesn’t, I can put the orange tree there. Hibiscus might be an easy addition and—being a little daring—I think I’d like to try some lavender this year.” She sighed. “I bet it’ll die on me.”

  “You’re better than that and you know it,” he said, disappearing into the office.

  Caitlin flipped the duster over and shoved it into its holder behind the desk. She glanced out the window at the gray, chilly afternoon. Come on, spring! I’ve had enough of the cold!

  The chime on the door jingled and Caitlin turned, a smile on her face, ready to greet her customer.

  Arianrhod stood in the doorway, rubbing her cold-reddened hands together. Somehow, even jeans and the beat up denim jacket she wore over them looked like finery on her. Must be the natural glamour given to goddesses.

  Wish I had some, Cait thought.

  “Ah, Cait! Good afternoon.”

  Caitlin tried hard not to snort. “Afternoon.” She trotted toward the office and ducked inside. “She’s here again.”

  Trevor blinked up from the computer screen he read. “Who?”

  “You know who,” she said.

  He frowned. “Honey—”

  “It’s not that time of the month.” She crossed her arms. “If she doesn’t go away, I’m leaving.”

  He blinked. “What? Cait, she’s only here for a quick visit.”

  She loosened her arms and shoved a hand through her hair. “I mean, I’m going to Bean on Tyme for a while, silly boy.”

  “She won’t be here long.”

  Caitlin held up a hand. “I have some coven business to discuss with Beryl.”

  The phone rang and Trevor grinned. “Can you get that? I’ve got a customer.”

  Caitlin sighed and picked up the phone as he walked out. “Starfort Collectibles.”

  ~6~

  January 10:

  The morning passed quietly and she looked forward to a moment’s peace. When noon came, she set up a small teapot on the hot plate she’d brought the beginning of the week. Something bothered her, though and she didn’t know how to broach the subject. She had a request to make and she wasn’t sure how Trevor would take it.

  “You’re going to see Arianrhod again soon, right?”

  “Full moon as usual,” he said. “Why?”

  “I want to go with you,” she said, setting a mug down before him.

  Trevor stared at her, then resumed stirring honey into his tea. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?” She settled into her chair and pulled her own teacup closer, tightening her grip. “So sue me, I’m curious.” He’d gone twice now. She thought she had a right to learn the exact location of his whereabouts on those nights.

  “That may be so,” he said. He shook his head. “The Otherworld, well, it’s really not your kind of place.”

  She knew it probably lacked every modern convenience she’d come to know and love. She didn’t care about them. She wanted to see where her husband was running off to with this beautiful goddess, once a month. “I don’t care,” she said. “I want to go with you. Just once. If I hate
it, I won’t bother you with a second request.”

  “It’s not that I think you’ll hate it.”

  Caitlin sat back and smirked. “I doubt anything she’s got over there will scare me, either. Remember, I’ve been down that rabbit hole once.”

  Trevor reached out and caressed her hand. “Of all the things that happened that night, that’s the one thing I want to remember.” He kissed her fingers. “I got lucky when I met you. Who else can say his wife would fight for him the way you did?” He frowned. “That’s supposed to be my job.”

  She pulled her hand from his and selected a half of the cut ham sandwich gracing her plate. “Oh, now, don’t get all huffy male chauvinist on me.” She winked. “I don’t want to explain to Heather why I had to hurt you.”

  He held his hands out. “It was my fault, I asked for it. Take me away, Officer Heather. Or whoever she brings over.”

  She smiled. “Cuffs, there’s a thought. I’ll cuff you to the bed.” A wicked happy gleam lit his eyes. She reached out and ran her fingers along his clean-shaven chin. “That’ll keep you here where you belong.”

  “I like the idea but I don’t think Arianrhod would allow it. Not tonight, anyway.” He shook his head. “I really don’t want you to go to the Otherworld, Cait. If I tell you it’s not safe, will that convince you to stay here?”

  “I think it would have the opposite effect.” Doubt crept over her. Would Arianrhod really put her husband at risk? “How bad can it be?”

  He sighed and sat back, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “Fine. We’ll go together. But if it gives you fits, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  She rose and sliding into her coat, she trudged out of the shop. He kissed her once before slamming the car door on her, and returning to his work.

  Watching him, she wondered why he took the steps as if he carried something heavy on his back. Caitlin twisted her key in the ignition, wondering what she’d talked herself into.

  Her day crawled by like a slinking demon, despite the customers who frequented the print shop—students, mostly—and she couldn’t help but wonder what she’d find on the other side. At lunch, she perused the Internet, refreshing her memory on the various forms of the Otherworld. She knew the picture Trevor had painted for her of the place but she still wondered if the world’s various ideas didn’t somehow hold kernels of truth. Would there be temples and three-headed hounds waiting to greet them, or harp-plucking angels? Or, was it as the Celts said, a verdant field for battle and play? A sea of waving grass and gold?

  She longed to ask Beryl her opinion, but Caitlin couldn’t bring herself to speak. On the one hand, she wanted her to know in case for some reason things went wrong. On the other, she didn’t want to share her plans. She didn’t want her best friend to think she’d gone crazy.

  Besides, if things did go wrong, what could she possibly do about it? It wasn’t as if she, Heather, and Sealya could stage a raid on the Otherworld on their behalf.

  When Caitlin clocked out for the night, she drove to Starfort Collectibles. The bell on the door chimed as she entered. She found Trevor counting the day’s take. “I sold two Areila vases,” he said. “We’ll need to deliver them tomorrow.”

  “To where?”

  “Tarpon Springs,” he said. “I have a friend up in Orlando seeking out their companions for the buyer so it’ll be a day’s trip, all told. Can you believe it? Two thousand dollars in one call.” He leaned the broom against the counter and kissed her. “The woman was only here for a half hour, and I made that much.”

  “Imagine if you’d offered her one of your works. She’d give you double that for sure.”

  He waved a hand, dismissing the idea. That was fine with Caitlin. If he never touched a chisel again, she wouldn’t mind.

  “Ready to go home?” he asked, twisting a key on the cash register to lock it.

  “Which vases?” She glanced around the shop, trying to pinpoint the vases in question.

  Avoiding the immediate future. He led her into the office and pointed them out: two delicate pieces painted with blue flowers and doves. “Those,” he said. He crossed to the safe and pulled out a zippered envelope, deposited the day’s funds inside, closed the safe and tucked the bag under his arm. “Ready?”

  When they finally reached the house, Trevor kept glancing at her. All through dinner, it seemed as if he wanted to say something, but never could quite find the words. He helped her clean the dirty dinner dishes, and glanced toward the steps.

  “Now?” she said. “Is there a specific timeline to follow?”

  “Not really.” Dark clouds entered his gaze. “You know you don’t have to do this.”

  “I want to,” she said. “Call me curious, I want to know where you go.”

  “I go to visit Arianrhod.”

  “Yes, and yet she could easily come here and chat with you over tea.” As she’d done a hundred times the last few weeks.

  He pushed away from the table, paced the living room, to the stairs and back. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Is it so bad?”

  “No, it’s just—”

  It was just that he feared what might happen. She could see that. Good. Now he knew how she felt every time he locked the bedroom door. That he might never walk out again alive. That she sat downstairs and chewed her nails until she heard his footsteps on the stairs. Ready to call Beryl, and 911 if he took too long to emerge. Ready to raid hell if necessary to bring him back. And they both knew it, she suspected, from the look on his face.

  He let out a deep breath. “Do you really want to go?”

  Caitlin nodded. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come on, then.”

  Instead of the bedroom, he led her to the attic and cowered when she scoffed. “It’s the quickest way, honey.”

  He turned to his work table by the window and shut the shade. Then he lifted her up and set her on the table’s cool, smooth surface.

  He smiled and ran a finger along her chin. “Now, why haven’t we thought of this before?

  “Dust, splinters?” she said. “And who knows who can see through that window?”

  “Close your eyes,” he said, smiling.

  She didn’t want to. As he closed his, her heart thumped in a quick rhythm. Like war drums.

  He took another deep breath and spoke a line in what Caitlin gathered was Gaelic.

  She opened an eye. “What did you say?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  She dug a finger into his ribs and he chuckled. “Yes I do,” she said. “What was it? Open sesame?”

  “I said, ‘By Land, Sea, and Sky, open now the gates of the slain that scare all. By Sky, Sea, and Land, open now at your Servant’s call.’”

  Gates of the slain. He was correct. She hadn’t wanted to hear that. She shrugged, beating away her fear. “Not so bad.”

  He kissed her forehead and reiterated his speech. Caitlin leaned against him, and the scent of wood and saw oils faded away. A warm aroma of tea, of the sea and sand washed over her. Of dirt and horses. She opened her eyes and found they stood before a tall, wooden and iron-braced gate. Beyond, horses and riders raced in easy canters. One drew alongside the gate, watching them warily. Trevor dipped his head and spoke to the man.

  Caitlin nudged him. “English, please?”

  “He’s one of Arianrhod’s gatekeepers,” he said, his words obvious as the man touched the head of his spear to the locks. The entrance drew open without a sound. Trevor laced his arm through hers and led her into the lush open field.

  The sun illuminated the men and women there. Some wheeled cannons into place, one side clad in blue, one side clad in gray. Trevor shaded his eyes from the sun. “Huh. They let the Civil War soldiers play today.”

  “Civil war?” Caitlin’s heart caught in her throat. Was Roland somewhere there with the units? “You should’ve told me!”

  “They’re not always here.” He shrugged and turned away from the melee. “Last time I was her
e, they were . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Phoenician armies, I think.”

  “What do you mean, they let them play?”

  He nodded to the soldiers. “It’s war games. A pastime now, a congratulatory feast later. It’s the way it goes.” He waved a hand around the field. “I mean, what would they have to fight over, here?”

  True. The records didn’t call this place the happy Otherworld for nothing, she supposed.

  The horseman led Caitlin and Trevor to a spectators’ area. There, Arianrhod sat on a brightly woven blanket of golden hues that mimicked the waving grass. She shaded her eyes from the sun as she looked up at them. “Ah, Trevor, you’ve come. And I see you decided on an escort this time.” She nodded to Caitlin and her red-gold braids slid back over her shoulders to touch the blanket. Not one strand of gray nor one wrinkle marred her beautiful countenance. Caitlin hoped she’d be so pretty at gods knew how many millennia old. “Welcome, my dear.”

  Caitlin didn’t like the easy tone of the goddess’ voice. As if she was about to detain them for her little party until some ridiculous hour. She tightened her grip on her husband’s arm. “Ma’am.”

  “How goes your new assignment?” she asked.

  Caitlin wiggled her toes inside her boots. Truth to tell, if she never saw another ghost or imp again, she’d be happy. “There hasn’t been much hands-on yet.”

  “But you’re reading, learning. That’s good.” Caitlin shrugged. Arianrhod patted the blanket beside her. “Come sit by me, Trevor. Shall we continue where we left off last time?”

  “I’d like that,” Trevor said.

  Her handmaiden offered Caitlin a mug of some drink. Caitlin peered down into it and didn’t like the scent of its contents. Bitter. Was it poisonous to living humans? “What is this?”

  “Mead,” Trevor said. “You’ll like it.” He shrugged. “At least I’ve gotten used to it.”

  She glanced at her watch, postponing the tasting. “Keep in mind, you’ve got to get up for work tomorrow. Early. We shouldn’t stay long.”

  Were it up to her, they wouldn’t stay long enough for Trevor to get comfortable. That handmaiden was paying him far too much attention for her peace of mind. The girl caught her watching. A blush spread across her cheeks, and she offered Caitlin an apple, deep crimson, smelling sweet even from here. Caitlin reached for the apple and hesitated. “On second thought, no thank you.”

  The handmaiden shrugged and moved on. Whether Trevor even noticed, it was hard to say, he was so wrapped up in his chat with the goddess. Caitlin turned her attention back to the handmaiden and saw the girl bounce the apple in her hand, then take a bite. When she didn’t keel over, Caitlin regretted her refusal. The apple had looked tasty.