Seven Sisters: Mysterious Charm, book 7 by Celia Lake

Author:Celia Lake
Language: eng
Format: epub

Twenty-Four

After midnight

Vivian walked back in a daze, the magic coursing in her blood. Her heartbeat was drumming in her ears, and she forced herself to take careful slow steps. She needed them, not only to preserve the dance as long as she could, but because she had no wish to fall on her face.

The offerings had not been like that for her for years. The last half of the dance had been transcendent. She had that moment when her foremother reached down, and stars danced in her blood. Even more so, something in her blood had sung out to the heavens. She’d had that once before, when she was twenty one and considering a commitment to a pleasant young man who flattered and pleased her. Richmond, of all the ridiculous names.

After that night, he’d seen something in her change, and he hadn’t liked it. He certainly hadn’t wanted her to have something he didn’t understand and couldn’t control. She was glad then, had been glad since, that she’d had that moment when she did, not a few years later. It was part of what had gotten her into her line of work. She might keep up the beautiful offices and the necessary staff by jobs for the Ministry and others who would pay handsomely for discretion and competence. That that enabled her to help people who needed it. Richmond’s later wife, for example.

There had been no clear message tonight, not like there had been then. Then it had been a flood of images of what would happen if she kept her road. They had come too fast and became too chaotic for her to make any single image stick. But together, they were clear, leave this man, get away from this man, he does not mean you well. She had listened, and her foremothers had been right, as they reliably were for those who had ears to hear or eyes to see.

This time, though, it was different. Whatever message there was was a sweeping instruction to be open, to flow, to dance, to keep dancing. There had been an outpouring of magic, with the taste and scent of the line of her mother’s magic, all the way back to Electra. There was the faint snap of ozone, the buzz in the air before a lightning strike or in the silence after a thunder clap. Then, under that, the hints of flowers, long past their proper season. She inhaled, breathing in the roses and the orchids, and something else she couldn’t name.

Modern English didn’t have words for this, because this magic was almost unknown among mortals now. Just her kin. And only if they were blessed with it. She was fairly sure Robin had never felt that touch, or he’d be a different sort of man. It wasn’t a religious conversion, as the missionary faiths hoped for, a lightning bolt from the sky. It was more like a river being set back in its proper course after a flood, or a pond flowing free after the silt had been dredged.

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