“Yeah.” I blow out a breath and check the time. “Hell, you know what’s going to happen, but I don’t understand it at all. I need answers. She should be at her shop. I’ll go get this whole thing started.”
“Be patient,” Oliver warns me.
“Never been good at that.” Still, I smile and pat Oliver on the shoulder before walking through the house to gather my keys and wallet and then make my way out to my car.
I was supposed to leave town a couple of weeks ago, to start a new job in Idaho. Now that I’m out of the Army and its war zones and no longer moving all the time, it’s time to lay down roots somewhere.
But when it was time to go, I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave Louisiana in the rearview mirror.
I couldn’t leave Daphne.
I drive through the city to the little antique shop she owns on the edge of the French Quarter. Reflections is a beautiful place, stuffed to the gills with everything from furniture to tiny tea sets. If it’s old, Daph sells it.
Which is crazy to me. How does she not go insane? How can she touch so many things, experience what she must with each piece, and not lose her mind?
I grip the door handle to her store, and a premonition floods me. The edges of my vision go gray, and I’m suddenly inside the shop, looking up from the counter as a man walks into the store and crosses to me. His head is down, and I can’t make out his face.
“May I help you?”
It’s Daphne’s voice, cheerful and ready to be of service to the customer.
But rather than answer, the guy looks up at her—at me—and he’s missing his eyes.
I blink rapidly as the vision leaves me and swear under my breath.
Jesus.
I push through the door, and the little bell above it rings musically. She’s diffusing clove and lemon oil for protection, and I can smell a hint of coffee in the air, as well.
“I’ll be right with you,” Daphne calls out from a room just behind the cash register. “Make yourself at home.”
I don’t say anything. I just push my hands into the pockets of my jeans and look around at what Daphne has done here.
It’s impressive. According to Google and its two-hundred five-star ratings, she’s built a business that is unique, fun, and boasts quality products―and she’s not yet thirty.
I’m not surprised. Daphne wouldn’t settle for anything less.
“So sorry to keep you waiting.” She’s out of breath as she hurries through the door. She has her red hair pulled back in a braid, but little strands of the auburn locks have worked themselves loose to frame her sweet face. Her cheeks are flushed, and her brow glistens with just a hint of sweat. “I had to wrestle an old trunk open. I don’t think anyone’s opened that sucker in fifty years, and—”
She comes to an abrupt stop when she sees that I’m her visitor.
Pleasure reaches her blue eyes first, and that fills my chest with hope. Unfortunately, guarded irritation quickly replaces it.
“Hi, Daph.”
“Jack, I don’t—”
“I know. You don’t want to talk to me.” I shake my head and turn from her so I don’t rush over to her and wrap my arms around her. God, I’ve missed her. And she’s as beautiful now, maybe even more so, than the first day I met her. “I know. But I need to talk to you, and you’ve been avoiding me like the damn plague.”
“I’ve made it a habit to avoid unpleasant things.”
Her toothy grin is anything but humorous.
“Point taken.” Regret suddenly fills me. I wish I’d handled things differently years ago. “I want to talk to you about Millie’s reception.”
Daphne’s older sister, Millie, married Lucien several weeks ago, but their reception and party was just three days ago. I was surprised to receive an invitation, but when I thought it over, it made sense.
Millie’s part of the coven that I grew up in. I’ve known her for a long time.
Something quite powerful ties us together, and because of that, we have a bond.
“What about it?” Daphne asks, and I see the fatigue in her eyes when she sighs.
“You saw what I did.” I swallow and have to stop myself from reaching for her again when I see fear cloud her eyes. “You saw it.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.”
She moves to walk past me, but I catch her elbow in my grasp. A vision immediately fills my mind.
Fire.
Wind.
Chaos.
Fear.
She pulls back and narrows her eyes at me.
“We don’t have anything to say to each other, Jack.”
“Yes, we do. And you damn well know it. You know,” I insist and shove my hand through my hair. “Yes, I messed up years ago, and you’d rather see the back of me than be nice. I get it. But, damn it, something’s happening. It’s escalating, and I need you to talk to me. I can’t keep you safe like this, not with you closing me out.”
“And why, pray tell, would you want to keep me safe?” Her voice drips with sarcasm. “You don’t even like me.”
“That’s not true.” I love her so much it makes me ache. “You saw the vision at the party. Every single person, standing there as if in a trance, without their eyes.”
She stumbles, and when she turns those hot eyes to me again, they’re wide and full of fear.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.” I watch her swallow hard. “You saw it. You went pale, and your pulse was thrumming in your neck. I saw that. Do you think I don’t notice those things?”
“Look.” Daphne walks to a lamp and straightens the lampshade. Her lips twitch into a small smile at the touch. “You made it clear years ago that you don’t want anything to do with me.”
“And I’ve done nothing but try to talk to you for weeks. To ask you to listen. I know things, Daph. I’ve been seeing things for months now. And it’s getting worse.”
“You’ve always seen things.” She waves her hand, dismissing me.
“No. I cut that part of myself off after I left New Orleans.” I rub my hand over my lips in frustration. “I had to. Had to turn it all off.”
“Why?”
“It doesn’t matter. I bound it, but things, visions, are breaking through my shields, and I know it’s no coincidence that it’s you I see in them. Us. With your sisters and their husbands.”
She’s quiet for a long moment and then sighs deeply, lowering herself onto a small, purple sofa before rubbing her fingertips over her forehead as if she’s trying to rub away a headache.
“I hoped for more time,” she says at last.
“More time for what?” I cross to her but don’t touch her. I know it wouldn’t be welcome. “I was with you and the others at Witches Brew when it seemed all hell broke loose. And even though I wasn’t invited to the Samhain ritual during the blue moon, I know something happened there.”
“Did Oliver tell you?” she asks softly, but I can see in her eyes that she already knows the answer.
“No. I watched it all unfold in my head, Daph. And I know, deep down, that something’s about to happen. Something big. I just don’t know what it is.”