Shirley Damsgaard - Charmed to Death (Ophelia & Abby Mysteries, No. 2)

While I stood in the clearing, the soft wind ruffled the strands of my hair that peeked out from beneath my hood. Overhead the branches swayed gently to the rhythm of the wind. The fennel seeds I held tightly in one hand stuck to my palm. In the other hand, I held a small polished tiger-eye crystal.

"You know, Abby, this is dumb. I don't know why we couldn't have done this at home, inside. What if somebody comes by?"

"Nobody's out this time of night. Be quiet, Ophelia, and concentrate," Abby said.

"But it's cold out here."

" Shh . Quit whining."

I turned to look at Abby. A thin sliver of light from the waning moon marked where she stood. I could make out the shadowy shape of her figurehead down, the cowl of her long white robe covering her silver hair, a robe like the one I wore. If someone had told me six months ago I would be standing in the woods in the dead of the night with my seventy-four year-old grandmother, dressed in something out of Witches "51" Us, I'd have told them they were crazy. The snort escaped before I could stop it.

"I heard that. Quit snorting and quit resisting. It's three days before the dark planting moon and a powerful time. A time for sowing the seeds of growth. And trust me, you need to grow. The time is at hand when it will be necessary to draw on all your powers."

Closing my eyes, I shook my head in frustration. " Ahh , jeez, Abby. Not more of 'the evil is coming and circles to be closed' crap. We went through all of that last fall."

"Yes, and I was right, wasn't I?"

I felt the weight of her stare in the darkness. She did have a point. She'd been right about the evil in the small town of Summerset, the drugs and the murder. Abby's magick had saved me. And Rick Delaney.

"Quit thinking about Rick," she scolded.

Whoops. One of the dangers of having a grandmother who's psychic.

"I wasn't really 'thinking' about him. He sort of popped into my mind."

"He pops in way too often if you ask me. You can't let thoughts of that young man distract you. You knew he wasn't the one when you two first met. It wasn't your time." Abby stood straight and tipped her head back, letting the cowl fall away from her head. "Now, let's get down to business."

"Yes, ma'am." I stood like Abby, head back, arms hanging loosely at my side.

"Hold the tiger-eye firmly in your palm. Empty your mind of all except the energy of the stone. Do you feel it?"

Closing my eyes, I banished rogue thoughts of Rick Delaney and concentrated on the smooth cool stone I

held . While I stroked its glassy surface with my thumb, I felt the stone grow warm. Its heat vibrated through my thumb, up my wrist, along my arm. And with the vibration came a deep sense of calm. The turmoil I felt over Rick, over who and what I was, dissipated and was replaced by peace. My breathing slowed to a whisper while the wind sighed around me.

"Think of what you wish. Say it over and over in your mind," Abby said quietly.

What did I wish? For Rick to come back to Summerset? For the path I walked to be easy? My breath caught in my lungs. No, I wished to become the person I was meant to be. To accept all my gifts and talents and use them to the best of my ability. In my mind, I repeated the same words over and over: Give me the strength to face my destiny.

With each thought, my breath came faster and the wind grew in intensity. I heard the sound of it whip through the tall weeds in the clearing, rustling them till they rattled. The strong gusts lifted my hair and tossed it about my shoulders. It made the hem of my robe dance around my ankles. My thoughts filled my soul and I felt as if I could burst.

"Quickly, throw the fennel seeds," Abby urged.

I opened my palm and cast the seeds to the wind. I couldn't see the wind scattering them, but I knew it did. My palm was empty, but my soul wasn't. The peace I felt remained. I stood silently and let it flow through me. Finally, lowering my head, I noticed a soft breeze once again rustling the weeds.

Opening my eyes, I watched Abby close the circle. She moved to the north, the east, the south, and, finally, the west. Walking clockwise around the clearing, she drew in the remaining energy. I felt it fade, like air slowly escaping from a balloon. When she finished, she took my hand and we started the long walk home through the woods.

"Abby, I understand the energy of the tiger-eye is for clarity and to help with my psychic abilities, but why the fennel seeds?"

In the darkness I sensed Abby's frown.

"For protection, my dear. You're going to need quite a bit this time."

The voices drifted through the open window at the library.

"Everyone needs to disperse right now. I'm sorry, but you can't block traffic."

"What traffic, Brett? I don't see no cars comin '."

I recognized the deep baritone voice of Stumpy Murdock, proud owner of Stumpy's Bar and Billiards.

"C'mon, Stumpy, you know I can't let you have a sit-in smack in the middle of the four-way stop. Take the demonstration someplace else."

"We're exercisin ' the right to peaceful assembly."

"Yeah." Several voices cried outone of them, the voice of my sweet grandmother.

Crap. Abby was with them. I needed to get out there before poor Brett was forced to arrest all those subversive characters.

When I rounded the corner of the library, I saw the sit-in. Several of the town's senior citizens had planted themselves in the center of the four-way. How Edna Walters ever managed to make it to a sitting position in the middle of the intersection, I'll never know. But there she was, dressed in her pink nylon jogging suit and orthopedic shoes, holding a sign that said down with factory farms. The sun glinted on her blue-tinted hair, while her walker stood like a silent companion by her side.

Oh Lord.

"Hey, Brett. How's it going?" I called out.

Brett turned. Two blotches, one on each cheekbone and as red as fresh strawberries, stood out on his young face. Poor guy. Brand-new police officer dressed in his blue uniform, with its sharp creases, and wearing his shiny new badge being hassled by people old enough to be his grandparents. I bet the Academy never taught him how to deal with little old ladies. Definitely in over his head.

"Ophelia, maybe you can talk some sense into these folks. If they don't move, I'm going to have to arrest them for being a public nuisance."

"Oh, you wouldn't want to do that, Brett," I said and tugged on my jacket.

"That's right, young man. If you do, I'll never bring cookies to the station again," Mrs. Walters said, shaking her finger at Brett.

"Mrs. Walters, please. Get up. I'll help you." Brett reached down and offered his hand, but Mrs. Walters swatted it away, her pink jacket crackling.

"No." Her double chin trembled with indignation. "I'm staying until Ned gets here to take our picture."

The blotches on Brett's face spread. If Ned didn't hurry, the only picture he'd get would be Brett tucking Mrs. Walters, walker and all, into the back of his patrol car. I walked over to where Abby sat next to Stumpy.