Runes and Ravens: Familiar Spirits - Book 5 by Christine Pope

Author:Christine Pope [Pope, Christine]
Language: eng
Format: epub

Of course, the first order of business was to get all the animals fed this evening, with special treats that showed them I was honoring the holiday even if I had absolutely no intention of feeding them any chocolate. That meant chopped steak for the dogs, and a little more of the same for Edgar, mixed in with dried mealworms and some of the pellets Sally Hawkins had left for him.

He didn’t seem nearly as agitated tonight. In fact, something about his behavior appeared almost resigned, as though he’d told himself he’d done his best, and if an obtuse human like me hadn’t understood what he was trying to say, it wasn’t on his shoulders.

No, it definitely wasn’t his fault that I’d turned out to be so dense.

The three of them ate with a good appetite, and instead of reheating stew for the third day in a row, I indulged myself with a grilled cheese sandwich gloppy with muenster and jack and cheddar, accompanied by a glass of merlot.

After the day I’d had, I figured I’d earned it.

The animals seemed perfectly happy with sprawling in various spots in the living room while they digested their food after dinner, which meant I should have some undisturbed time to do my best to get to the bottom of Eunice Bartlett’s murder. Down came the silver bowl from one of the cupboards, and out of the pantry came my big jug of moon water, which I’d prepared just the week before. I hadn’t expected to need it any time soon, but these days, I did my best to make sure I always had some on hand.

A cloth already covered the kitchen table, so I set the silver bowl on top and carefully poured the moon water into it. No incantation at first, only the intention to keep my mind as open and receptive as possible, and to do my best to have the scrying be a true one.

But then it was time to get down to work.

By the shadows of the moon, dark secrets be unveiled,

Reveal the scene where blood has trailed,

Behind the dumpster, where silence screams,

Conjure the image from hidden dreams.

An image of the dumpster behind the building came into view for a few seconds, but then it shivered, became distorted, looking like something from the bad old days when your cable would go out and the screen would turn into something my mother and I often referred to as “baconvision.”

And then the water in the silver bowl went completely black.

I stared down at it for a moment, hands on my hips. After getting home, I hadn’t bothered to change out of my Victorian-inspired dress and boots, although I’d happily left the pointy witch hat on the table in the entry.

This was very odd. It wasn’t as though I was the world’s best scryer — far from it — but usually, if a particular seeing wasn’t working, the water would stay blank the whole time. In this case, it seemed more as though the image had tried to form and then had been interrupted somehow.

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