Boundary Crossed by Melissa F. Olson

Boundary Crossed by Melissa F. Olson

Author:Melissa F. Olson [Olson, Melissa F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: 47North
Published: 2015-05-01T04:00:00+00:00


Chapter 21

On the way back into Boulder, I grabbed a veggie sub from a chain place, driving with one hand so I could inhale it in the car. I was back at my cabin by mid-afternoon. My whole body was exhausted from the night of body disposal and the day of magic lessons, but I wasn’t ready for sleep yet. I was in terrible need of a reality check—and so were the animals. Shelter pets tend to thrive on routines, and I’d been doing nothing but breaking ours for the last week.

So instead of a nap I went straight to the backyard and threw a tennis ball for a while, enjoying the fall sunshine and the infectious excitement of the dogs. Only Cody and Chip, both retriever mixes, actually fetched the ball, mind you—Pongo found toys uninteresting but enjoyed snuffling along the edges of the fence, and Dopey was simply too stupid to grasp the concept of bringing something back. Once in a while she would follow Cody and Chip for the first ten feet as they chased the ball, then scamper back to me, expecting praise for her accomplishments. I just laughed and complied.

After about an hour I went inside and took a long, hot shower, taking the time to shave my legs and pluck my eyebrows. Then I pulled on my nicest jeans and paired them with a camisole—I still wasn’t supposed to wear a bra—covered by a nice long-sleeved knit top. I brushed my hair out in the mirror and nodded to myself. This was another Sam strategy—she always insisted that the key to feeling better inside was looking better on the outside. It had always sounded stupid and vaguely sexist to me—especially since I’d spent so many years trying not to look attractive—but I still appreciated the sentiment.

I realized that I suddenly, desperately missed my sister. She was the only one I could talk to about . . . well, I wouldn’t say “stuff like this,” because finding out that I had a magical connection to the forces of death isn’t the kind of thing that happens every day. But Sam was always the one person who accepted me in every way. Besides, she was my twin. She would’ve had the same witchblood.

I wondered, not for the first time, if that could have saved her life. Would she still have died if her magic had been active, too? Probably not. But then again, in order for her magic to have become active, she would have had to die when we were teenagers. This was all too messed up to contemplate.

At four-thirty I left the house for my regular Friday date. Okay, well, “date” might have been pushing it, but it was probably the closest I got these days.

After Sam died and John came back to Boulder to work at Luther Shoes, my parents worried about him constantly. A twenty-nine-year-old widower who spent every moment either working for his father-in-law or taking care of his baby daughter?



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