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The man from the courtyard glanced up from his book. “Not finding quite what you’re looking for?” he asked.

I hesitated, aware that I had to be careful. Yet it didn’t feel like he was prying. It was more that he recognized me as another blood witch and sensed my power. It wasn’t the first time that had happened. David Redstone had recognized what I was the first time he saw me, even before I knew myself.

I noticed that he was looking at me oddly, as if he’d suddenly remembered something but wasn’t sure whether or not he should mention it. Then he said, “You scry with fire.” It was an acknowledgment rather than a question.

I nodded, and my nervousness dropped away. It was as if I’d just walked through a door into a room where we were acknowledged peers. Witch to witch. Strength to strength. Power conduit to power conduit.

“The fire shows me things, but I feel like they’re often random. I don’t know how to make it show me what I’m looking for,” I admitted.

“Fire has a will of her own,” he said. “Fire is ravenous, fighting control, always seeking her own pleasure. To tame her is a lifetime’s work, a matter of coaxing her to reveal what you want to know. I could show you, but”—he looked at the shelves around us and smiled—“a bookstore is hardly the place to play with fire.”

“That’s all right,” I said, trying not to sound disappointed.

The lines around his eyes crinkled. “Perhaps I can explain it through another medium. The principle’s the same.”

He reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and drew out a piece of clear, polished crystal, cut in the shape of a crescent moon. It wasn’t big, maybe three inches across, but its surface was faceted and etched with runes and magickal symbols.

He held the crystal out to me, and I took it in my right hand. The crystal was surprisingly light, as if it belonged to a slightly altered gravity.

“I assume you know that you must ask the medium to give you a vision and that you must be specific. If what you want is to see your kitten tomorrow, specify tomorrow.” I wondered how he knew I had a kitten. Then again, it wasn’t uncommon for witches to have cats. “In your mind’s eye picture that animal or person and send the image into the stone, asking it to accept it.” His voice was soft, almost hypnotic. “The key is you must then use your power to feel the energy in the crystal—or the fire—and send its light into the future, searching for what you seek. That’s really all there is to it.”

“You make it sound simple,” I said.

“Most things are, once they’re familiar. Why don’t you practice with the crystal first?” At the doubt in my eyes he said, “Hold on to the crystal if you like. I need to go downstairs and check a few books for my syllabus. Just leave the crystal by the chair when you’re done with it.”

I sat there debating as he went down the stairs. I didn’t want to try anything complicated in the store, but maybe I could do something simple. I’d been worried about Mary K. ever since that awful night Selene kidnapped her, using her as the bait to get me. She didn’t seem to remember anything about being at Selene’s house—in fact, she seemed to have believed the cover story we gave my parents, which was that she had gone to the movies by herself because she was depressed. But lately she’d been having nightmares.

I’d finally learned not to underestimate anything Selene did. Rational or not, there was a part of me that worried that though Selene was dead, her magick somehow still had a hold on my sister.

Holding the crystal, I silently asked the stone to give me the vision I sought. I pictured my sister at home, sitting at the table, and asked the crystal to accept that image. I nearly dropped the stone as Mary K.’s image appeared inside it, tiny and perfect and three-dimensional. I watched her sitting at the table, then I asked the crystal to show her to me one week from now.

A stone’s energy pattern is as distinct as any person’s or animal’s. The energy in this particular crystal was cool, glowing green-white, surging and swelling like a tide. For several breaths I let my energy ride its swells. Then I sent it surging into the future.

The image in the crescent changed. I saw Mary K. and her friend Jaycee walking out of the Widow’s Vale Cineplex. The vision was so perfect and detailed, I could even see the missing X in the marquee.

Then I felt something odd, almost like a cold draft on the back of my neck. I wheeled around in alarm. Was someone watching me? Even in a place frequented by other witches, I knew it wasn’t a good idea for me to work magick in public. But I could see no one else on the balcony, and when I extended my senses, I couldn’t feel anyone nearby.

Focusing on the crystal again, I realized I was starting to feel tired, which was pretty common whenever I moved into a new level of magick. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to maintain the spell much longer, I thanked the stone for its help and withdrew my power from it. The glowing green-white light inside it faded, and the vision of Mary K. winked out.

I’d done it. I’d called up a vision and seen exactly what I’d asked to see. This was the way magick was supposed to work.

I stood up. Then, feeling light-headed, I sat down in the chair. I was vaguely aware that Bree must be wondering where I was. I told myself I’d just sit long enough for my pulse to return to normal. But a wave of exhaustion totaled me. My limbs felt heavy. My head began to nod. I couldn’t keep my eyes from drifting closed.

Everything shadowed. The owl hovering over the stone table. Razor-sharp talons and golden eyes. The jackal’s high-pitched laughter. Venom dripping from the viper’s fangs. The jaguar, claws unsheathed. Hunger that could never be sated. The weasel, crawling so close, its claws scrape the table. Candles burning low, casting shadows on the walls. Golden eyes, green eyes, glittering, intent. All of them fixed on the wolf cub. All of them waiting. The cub’s terror, sharp and pungent. The red ruby set in the hilt of the athame, glowing with power. The eagle’s scream. And the silver wolf. The one they all wait for. It leaps to the table and opens its great jaws. The cub howls.

“Are you all right?” I felt someone gently shaking my shoulder.

My eyes flew open. The man from the courtyard was standing over me, his eyes shadowed with concern.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I–I must have fallen asleep,” I said, feeling shaken and embarrassed. I was soaked with sweat. “I had a dream.”

“What sort of dream?”

“Just a bad one.” Even though I felt sick and disoriented, I knew I couldn’t risk saying more. Especially if the council was right about what the dream meant.

“Dreams are funny,” the man said thoughtfully. “They have their own internal logic. They mix past and present and future and then some things that I believe belong to our collective unconscious. Things that may have nothing to do with you specifically.”

“Maybe this wasn’t specific to me,” I agreed. After all, no one had ever explained why I was the one who had this dream, but the fact that I’d had it twice now unnerved me.

I drew in several deep breaths, then got to my feet. So far, so good; walking seemed possible. I glanced at my watch. It was after one. “I’d better find my friend,” I said. “Thanks for all your help.”

“You’re sure you’re all right?”

“Yes.”

As I started to walk away, he touched me lightly on my arm. “I’m sorry. I haven’t even had the manners to ask. What’s your name?”

“Morgan,” I answered without thinking.

He held out his hand to me. “Well, Morgan, may your magick always bring you joy.”