There was a knock at her door. Reg sipped her tea, then got up to see who it was. She wasn’t expecting any appointments until after dark.
She couldn’t see anyone through the peephole and, after hesitating for a moment, opened the door anyway to see if UPS had left a package on the doorstep. Forst and Fir stood there together, below the level of the peephole. Reg smiled, genuinely happy to see them.
“Hi! I didn’t know you were coming. How is everything?” She wasn’t sure whether she should invite them in for tea. Inviting pixies in was a bad thing, but what about gnomes? She didn’t think they would do anything mischievous.
“We brought you a living thing,” Fir said, displaying a small green plant in a pot. He held it reverently with both hands and looked down at it with a smile. “Every home should have a living.”
Reg held her hands out to receive it from him. “I do have Starlight, he’s a living thing, but you’re right; I don’t have a plant.”
“They help to keep the air clean and make you happy.”
Both gnomes smiled at her, showing that they were happy. Their cheeks were round and rosy in spite of the many wrinkles from working in the sun.
“Thank you so much.” Reg studied the plant. “It isn’t the endangered one, is it? They wouldn’t let you dig up the, uh, cluster…”
“Clustervine. No. It is not the clustervine. That is still safe on my plot, thanks to Reg Rawlins.”
Reg smiled. “Good. And where should I put this little fellow? Does he like to be right by the window?”
“North facing. Diffuse light.” Fir poked his head in Reg’s door to look around. He pointed to one of the side tables in Reg’s living room area. “It would like that space.”
“I’ll put it there, then. I’ve never had a plant before, so I don’t know if I have a green thumb. How much water do I give it?”
“Once every week or two, enough to keep the dirt moist when you push your finger into it. Not enough to drown it.”
“Okay. I hope I can manage that.” She knew how much they loved plants and how much it would hurt Fir if he knew she neglected his gift. Maybe Sarah would help her to keep an eye on it too, just to make sure she didn’t forget about it for a month at a time.
“And don’t let the cat eat it,” Forst warned. “Sometimes, cats eat things they shouldn’t.”
Fir nodded solemnly.
Reg hadn’t wanted to go to Davyn’s office again, but she was also not prepared to invite him to her house. Even though she was getting better at building a wall of protection around herself, she was by no means an expert. Corvin had still been able to trick her into giving him admission and she hadn’t had the strength to fight back. That stung, and she didn’t want to provide Davyn with an opportunity for an attack either. He was the leader of his coven and, while Reg didn’t know all of what that entailed, she figured that meant that he was a pretty powerful warlock, despite appearances. Just because he hadn’t done anything to threaten her in previous meetings, that didn’t mean she could trust him. He was a close friend of Corvin’s and didn’t seem to understand the way the modern world worked.
So, she had only agreed to meet with him again if they did so in a public place, and it could not be The Crystal Bowl or anywhere she might run into someone she knew. Davyn suggested the dining room in a nearby hotel. They could have a meal, they’d be around other people, but not likely anyone she knew. It would mostly be frequented by out-of-town guests, which would be ideal for their purposes.
That had been her reasoning, anyway.
“The Council has made a decision not to readmit Corvin to the coven quite yet,” Davyn informed Reg when their meals came and they had exhausted the usual small talk. “I wanted to let you know this personally and to reassure you that we are not just taking his word that he has mended his ways. We will continue to watch him and to evaluate his actions to decide whether he can be… a safe and productive member of our society.”
Reg pushed food around on her plate. She had been hungry, and the delicious smells of the chicken stir fry had smelled good when the waiter put it down in front of her, but talking about Corvin and his behavior or his potential return to full membership of the coven made her forget how hungry she had been.
“Well, that’s good,” she said slowly. “I’m glad you weren’t fooled by him.”
“It has come to our attention, however, that you have been seen with him again in… possibly compromising circumstances. I am concerned about these reports.”
“Why?”
“It is my duty to be aware of what Corvin is doing in the community… something like a probation officer. And his continued relationship with you is concerning. I’m also a little confused about why you are seeing him socially when you are so adamant about him not being returned to our society. It seemed like a conflict.”
Reg searched for a coherent argument. She didn’t really have any excuse for agreeing to see Corvin after all the conflict they had experienced already. Her choice had, once again, resulted in her being put in a dangerous situation with him. Saying that she had been testing him to see if he would resist his impulses seemed like the best story, but it didn’t exactly put her in a good light. If she was afraid of Corvin and objected to what he had done in the past, then why put herself in that position again, even as a test?
She pushed a piece of chicken around and eventually put it into her mouth and chewed slowly. Davyn waited for her response.
“I just… I don’t know. He wears me down. He uses his charms, and I forget how dangerous he is… I just want to be able to do what I want and still be safe.”
She took a sip of her wine.
“I guess I want to believe that he has reformed or that I am strong enough to resist him. But instead… each time the results are the same. We start the evening with my rules firmly in place… but by the end of it, he has the upper hand again, and all my arguments and protests and the barriers that I have tried to build up are gone.”
“It’s a dangerous game. Why don’t you simply avoid him?”
“I try. But he says that we’re bonded together. Whatever decisions I make… our futures are still intertwined.”
Davyn looked troubled by this. He nodded slowly and took a few bites of his dinner. They sat in silence, each considering the matter.
“Do you think that if you moved, he would follow you?”
“Why should I have to move?” Reg snapped.
“You don’t. I’m asking you what you think would happen. You’re a fortune teller, aren’t you? Why don’t you give me a prediction of the future? If you chose to move, would he follow you? Or would that break the connection between you?”
Reg sighed. She thought about it. What if she decided it was time to move on? Not back north, but maybe across the country to California or Nevada. If she put enough miles between them, that would be the end of it, wouldn’t it? That would be the end of the conflict and any potential relationship with Corvin.
A vision started to fill her mind. She felt a strong hand in hers, imagined his breath in her ear and his husky voice coming to her in the night. But it wasn’t Corvin. How could it be? She could never have a romantic relationship with him without risking the loss of her powers. She could only have that kind of relationship with a warlock who couldn’t take her powers. An equal like Davyn or—
Reg swore and looked around. She knew exactly who could put a vision like that into her head. And once she was looking for him, she spotted Damon across the room, watching her, his face flushed with jealousy.
Davyn turned, following her gaze. “An admirer?” he asked lightly.
Reg shook her head. “This is getting ridiculous. I can have dinner with anyone I like!”
“Of course you can,” Davyn agreed. “If he can’t understand that, maybe you should tell him to leave you alone.”
Which was precisely what Reg had done. But he was back, still trying to fill her head with his visions, twisting what she wanted to suit himself.
“Where is a magical restraining order when you need it?”
Under the weight of both of their gazes, Damon eventually caved and walked out of the room. Reg didn’t see him again when she left.
She was sure it was only a coincidence that he had seen her there. He was acting as a security guard at some conference being held at the hotel. He had said so the other day.
It had just been a coincidence that he had seen her there with Davyn.
Reg had agreed to go with Francesca as she shipped Sally and Horace to their new owners in China and Egypt. Each carried one crate with an unhappy black kattakyn inside, leaving the house with Nicole’s mournful cries ringing in their ears. It was heartbreaking to have to separate them, but they both knew it was necessary to keep the Witch Doctor from re-forming any time in the near future. And Francesca could not keep ten cats, even if they hadn’t been the Witch Doctor’s draugrs.
“Do you think the kittens knew about Weston being detained in your house?” Reg asked, hoping to distract them both from the unhappy felines. She was a little irritated with Francesca for hiding in the kitchen when Reg had accidentally released Weston. But then again, Francesca had experience with one immortal and Reg could understand her not wanting to get involved with another. “Is that why they went to the basement? If they are still the Witch Doctor at some level, they must have sensed that their old rival was there.”
“I do not know,” Francesca admitted. “It was very strange to have them disappearing in the house, when there was no way to get into the attic or the basement. There was strange magic going on in the house.”
“Maybe it was the wormhole. Maybe that’s how they kept getting into inaccessible rooms.”
Francesca nodded in agreement. “Probably.”
“They haven’t disappeared again since then?”
She shook her head, lips pressed together. “No. But I also performed some cleansing rituals… did you notice the house seems brighter and more cheerful now? I think that immortal of yours must have been what was causing it to be so gloomy.”
“He’s not my immortal.”
If one of the immortals was hers, it was Harrison. He was the one who had tried to protect her and had been there through the hard times. Then again, Weston was her father, and he had tried to go back to change the course of Reg’s life, but neither of them was really her immortal. They had their own minds and wills.
“Well, anyway, I’m glad your house is feeling better now. I guess you’ll be happy when it’s just you and Nicole again and things have settled down.”
“Yes, of course.” Francesca sighed. “It will seem very empty with only one cat.”
“Maybe you could get a plant too. I hear they are good company.”
Francesca looked at her with pursed lips, puzzled by her comment. She shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“It’s a big house. You could get more than one plant.”
Francesca didn’t offer any response to this. They carried the cat crates into the small airport. Reg expected to just check them in with the luggage and leave them there, but after registering with the private airline counter, they were instructed to wait with the crates until the pilot was ready to take possession of them.
When the pilot showed up, Reg was surprised to see a young man she already knew. She hurried forward to shake his hand. “Warren Blake! How are you doing?”
His face was much fuller than the last time she had seen him, quite gaunt from being in a magical coma in a nursing home. He looked much more alive and happy than he had before.
“Reg Rawlins!” He pumped her hand, brown eyes alight. “We should have you over to dinner one day! Ling would love to see you.”
“Yes, we should get together,” Reg agreed. It was nice to see him looking so well and happy after all that he had been through. “I guess you’re flying our cats today.”
“To the international airport in Miami,” Warren agreed. “Not all the way to their destinations.” He looked into the crates and wiggled his finger through the bars to engage with the cats. They just huddled there, looking miserable. Warren checked the big stickers on each of the crates with their destination information. “Wow. World travelers. Well, don’t you worry, I’ll get them safely to Miami, and the airline is very good with these special deliveries.”
Francesca was teary-eyed but seemed happy that Horace and Sally were going with someone Reg knew and trusted. Reg didn’t tell him that the last time she had dealt with Warren, it had been after a plane crash. What were the chances that Warren would have a second crash? He was probably the safest pilot they could choose. He couldn’t be unlucky enough to crash a second time.
They both said their teary goodbyes to the kittens and left them with Warren.
Reg’s phone started ringing as she got to the door of her cottage. She fumbled with her key and hurried to put down her grocery bags and dig out the phone, not wanting to answer it on the doorstep.
It was an unknown number—a Maine area code. Reg hesitated before answering. Had someone from her old life tracked her down?
It wouldn’t be the police. They wouldn’t bother to call her. They’d contact the police department and work with them to get Reg into custody. And it had been a long time since she had operated in Maine, anyway. No one there would still be looking for her.
It was probably just a telemarketer. If they could operate out of India, then why not out of Maine? She swiped the screen to answer and brought the phone up to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Is this Reg Rawlins?” The voice, its tone, accent, and cadence were startlingly familiar. Reg shook off the feeling of deja vu, frowning.
“Who is this?”
“You probably don’t remember me, but I knew you a long time ago when you were just a little girl.” There was a hitch, a hesitation. “My name is Norma Jean.”
Reg kept the phone at her ear, her mind spinning. Her legs folded under her and she sat down in the middle of the kitchen floor.
“Norma Jean?” she whispered. Norma Jean was alive. But hadn’t she been killed by the Witch Doctor?
Not, it dawned on her slowly, in the new timeline. She and Corvin had banished the Witch Doctor. Weston had returned to his lover and child in the past where they were well and safe. Reg and Corvin had been able to persuade him to leave, but in a timeline where there was no Witch Doctor in corporeal form to hurt Norma Jean.
“They took you away from me when you were just a little mite,” Norma Jean explained. “They said I couldn’t take proper care of you and they put you into foster care. I didn’t get clean for a long time after that, and when I did, they said my rights had been terminated. I couldn’t get you back.”
Reg swallowed, not sure what to say.
“I’ve been looking for you for a long time, honey,” Norma Jean went on. “I’d like to come and see you.”