Chapter 16

An hour later,Shari and I both jumped as Flora shouted in frustration and slammed a door. For someone so small, she could really stomp, and we heard her tirade of marching footsteps long before she emerged from the sunflower stalks, swatting leaves out of her way.

"I ordered a vine," she raged, ripping her red cowgirl hat off her head and hurling it into the air. "A vine, not a single flower, and after thirty minutes on hold with customer service, apparently that swindler of a Geoffrey Picket says no takes backsies once it's been cut!"

Shari blinked. "Something tells me that's not what you wanted to do."

"I'll be paying that bill back for the next two years!" The garden gnome leveled a finger at me. "And you—"

"Your haste is not her fault." Shari resumed her crocheting, snapping her fingers at me. "We're about to start connecting these edges together. Are you paying attention?"

I gave Flora a meek look.

"Gah!" Flora strangled the air in front of her for a moment, clearly imagining it was my neck, and then swiped her hat from where it'd fallen on the ground. "And of course if you purchase a live vine you have to pick it up yourself because he refuses to be held responsible for any shipping mishaps, so I have to go all the way to St. Louis!"

Hunching my shoulders, I tried to appear smaller than I was, as if curling in on myself would help direct the garden gnome's ire away from me.

"And apparently find somewhere with more crystals because you are going to burn them out well before midnight!"

"I have crystals at my place," I said quickly. "Loads. All charged and everything, before I was stung."

That seemed to take the edge off the gnome's anger, and she growled, "You do?"

"A-and when you go, would you mind checking the hobs' barn? Had a few spells backfire this morning."

The garden gnome glowered at me.

"Please?"

Just as Flora opened her mouth to either agree or yell at me some more, or both, the familiar horn of the turquoise Thunderbird honked in the driveway. A moment later, Daphne appeared and gestured to her feet. "Look who I found on the way over here!"

Ame and Sawyer trotted side by side, my striped tabby cat breaking out into a sprint when he caught sight of me behind the shimmering barrier.

Shari snatched him by the scruff before he could attempt to leap through it, and a good thing too, for only inanimate objects could be safely passed between the barrier, like the crochet hook and yarn. It would've sent the young tomcat somersaulting tail over whiskers and probably singed his fur too.

She set him on the ground and was about to resume her crocheting when Ame reached them, rubbing her head along the length of Shari's thigh. "Hey, kitty." She stroked the caliby cat from the crown of her head to the base of her tail twice, Ame's yellow eyes half-lidded as she purred happily.

Then Shari was back to her crocheting and Ame's gaze was as judgmental as I'd ever seen it.

"Misty," Sawyer panted, pacing back and forth beside the crystals. Little whines escaped him with every step, frustrated he couldn't get into my lap. "What happened?"

The look Ame was giving me said it was in my best interest to give the abridged version. "I'll be okay. With Flora's help. How did you know to find me here?"

Sawyer wouldn't meet my gaze. "I, uh, went to find Ame for help with…" He trailed off, clearly receiving the same warning glare from Ame has I had.

"We came back to Ame's house when we didn't find you at the farmhouse," he said, brightening that this was a topic he could freely discuss, "and the tin of cat food told us where to go."

"A tin of cat food did that?"

"Yes," Ame answered crisply. "Seafood medley means they've gone to Flora's. Chicken means town errands, beef is miscellaneous but everything is okay, and no tin means trouble."

Shari gave me one of her close-lipped smiles, fingers and yarn flashing.

"And now that we're here, it's time to go again, isn't it?" Ame asked, turning to Flora.

The garden gnome nodded. "Yes indeedy. Daph, I need you and the T-bird. We're going to St. Louis."

"Huh," was the older woman's reply, and I marveled at how calm she was at yet another turn of events disturbing her otherwise quiet Sunday. "Sounds fun. Shari, did you want to come or will you be alright here with Misty?"

"I have yarn and audiobooks. I'm good here."

"But first, a side quest to Misty's farmhouse for more crystals and to vanquish the residue of some janky spells." Flora gave me what had to be the hundredth foul look of the day. "You know I usually spend my Sundays sunbathing stark naked and sipping mojitos by the pool. You owe me, witch."

"I know." And I meant it. To all of them. "Sawyer, go with them."

"No!" he exclaimed. "No, I won't—"

"I need you safe at the farmhouse. Run patrols, look after the hobs, keep things secure."

From the way Sawyer's whiskers flattened, he knew exactly what things I was talking about: the grimoire in the crawlspace and the powder we'd stolen from the warlock.

"Show them where the crystals are?" I asked.

Pouting, Sawyer nodded and hung his head. It hurt not to be able to reach out and pet him, inch my fingers along his spine just the way he liked, to reassure him. And myself.

"Good kitty," I murmured softly, imbuing as much affection as I could into those two little words. His ears perked a fraction.

"No time like the present," Flora announced. "Tallyho!"

"Just don't take the rainbow tourmaline," I added quickly. I needed that for my new parasite bracelet.

"I'll take whatever I need to keep you alive, thank you very much," Flora said, thrusting her nose into the air. Then she snatched Sawyer's scruff and hauled him after her, saying, "Come on, Daph. Shari, there's curry chicken salad in the fridge."

"Is there green tea?"

"Left of the stove!"

"Yummy." The quiet crafter popped up off the ground and disappeared into the sunflowers, presumably to make herself a cup of tea, leaving me and Ame alone in the corn field.

I gulped.

"Warlocks, Misty?" Ame snapped. So that's what Sawyer had gone to see her about. "Really? Let me see your arm."

Leaning forward, I showed her the purple-veined blister.

Her pink nose wrinkled. "Not convinced that's from a warlock, but something just as nasty. What happened?"

"I went to Cedar Haven for some honey and I got swarmed by some honeybees Arthur thought were sick and got stung," I answered quickly.

The caliby cat's tail started to twitch. "You know, if you and Sawyer were bound, his magic could've helped you."

"Or this could've affected us both," I snapped back. "I would never— Why are you always pushing this?"

"Because not everyone is like you, Misty! You care about Sawyer for the cat he is and not the power he holds. He is an unbonded familiar, and a young one, easily taken advantage of. Outside of the university, unbonded, he could be stolen, his magic extracted—"

"I think you should be having this conversation with him."

"I've had it! And he won't listen to me, not on this matter. He thinks he can stay under the radar as a farm cat. But if he's willing to help you steal from warlocks, Misty, then he's ready to bond. Would it be so bad? To have a friend who you could always rely on? To love? It's not so with many pairings. What you two have is rare." Her irritation had turned into a plea. "I wouldn't waste it."

But I'm not staying here. I'm breaking the curse on the grimoire and going home. And Grandmother doesn't allow familiars. I didn't look at her.

Ame growled, ready to push the issue some more, but then Shari could be heard walking through the sunflowers. Ears flattening, Ame cast a worried glance over her shoulder to make sure Shari wasn't yet in sight, then slashed at the air between us with a clawed paw. "Listen here, Misty Fields, not a word about warlocks or other such dark and evil things in front of Shari. Do you understand me?"

I'd never heard the cat so threatening, so venomous. "Okay!" I hastily agreed.

Shari joined us shortly, folding her legs once more and sipping at her tea. She hadn't thought to bring one for me, but I hadn't asked, either. After another sip, she hefted her yarn and hook into her lap. "Now let's get to connecting these edges, shall we?"

* * *

The day passedwith agonizing slowness. Apart from Flora and Daphne returning briefly to give the crystals to Shari to replace at my instruction, there was nothing to do but crochet and watch the clouds go by. Shari wasn't much of a talker, retreating into the stories of her audiobooks. She had offered to share them with me, but her headphones could only sit on one head at a time. So, with nothing else to do but pillow my head on the yolk of the gigantic sunny-side-up egg I'd crocheted under Shari's instruction, I watched the clouds go by and tried not to panic.

Occasionally Ame broke the droning of the wind and the rustling of yarn by prompting Shari with various questions. Did she have to go to the bathroom? Did she need more tea? It was probably a good time to have something to eat, right?

When she left to go inside and help herself to some of the curried chicken salad, I lifted my head and asked the cat, "So what's up with Shari? Daphne said she had some compulsive tendencies, but is she autistic or something?" Did it have something to do with the warning Ame had given me earlier?

The cat, stretching out her red-and-brown tabby patches in the October sun, did not deign to give me an answer, nor any indication that she'd heard.

When Shari returned with her plate, it held only one sandwich, but she had an extra cup in her hand. She poured half of it into her mug of cooling tea and carefully angled the cup through the shimmering barrier so I could grip the rim on the other side. I gave the pitiful amount inside a depressed sigh. With no nearby trees, the wind had been free to whip across the fields, robbing everything of moisture, including my tongue.

"If you eat and drink, you'll have to go the bathroom," Shari said. "And good luck doing that inside that barrier without making a mess."

Thistle thorns, I hadn't thought of that! These few meager swallows inside the cup were just enough to keep my throat from feeling as scratchy as nettle weed. I gulped it down and passed the cup back to her. She ate her sandwich, gazing off into the shorn cornfields and the patchy blue skies, lost in the world of her audiobook. With nothing to do myself but wait and try not to let my thoughts run away with me, I examined the blister on my arm and then unwound the bandages on my hand.

I wasn't healing. While the blood had clotted, my magic wasn't speeding my recovery in any way. Wasn't sealing the flesh or reducing the inflammation, and I think only my mind reeling from the panic that my core was contaminated had kept me from registering the pain. The poultice I'd applied had some numbing agents in it, but those had worn off, and now that I saw the ragged flesh, I felt my body crying out.

Quickly, I wrapped my hand back up, hoping an out-of-sight-out-of-mind attitude would trick my nerve endings into thinking everything was a-okay. It didn't.

"S-Shari? Would you talk to me?"

When she didn't reply, I lurched upright to find her curled up on her side with her hood drawn over her head, asleep or further lost in her audiobooks, my voice falling on deaf ears either way. Ame was nowhere to be found, probably having gone to hunt down her own afternoon snack.

The clouds had started to thicken, no longer the puffy white ones that could so easily be imagined into shapes, so I'd find no distraction there. I patted down my clothes, searching for something to take my mind off, well, everything. Maybe I'd stuffed a crystal in my pocket, something I could experiment on—though if it backfired I ran the risk of further injury—or maybe there was bit of twine I could fashion into a loop and play cat's cradle like I had with my cousins when I'd been ten.

Apparently I was the most boring person in the world, not to mention the worst sort of witch, for I had nothing in my pockets except my cell phone. It wasn't one of those fancy ones with the games and social media, nor a camera, but it could text.

Pulling up my only text chain, I found the ones Arthur had left me when I'd been trailing after the warlock. There were only three, each expressing an element of concern and apology and a plea to know I was safe, even if I wasn't even on the fairgrounds anymore.

I'm not safe, I typed, though I had no intent on sending him this message. I just needed something to take my mind off the mess I was in. I'm so far from it. And all I want is a hug. To disappear in your arms and hear you tell me it's going to be okay. All of it. The running away. The curse. This stupid festering blister on my arm. It's reached my elbow now.

But I don't deserve it. You. The Crafting Circle, either. Or the town. You're too nice here. Sneaking into my life, luring me with a siren song beyond the walls of the manor. And what "could be."

I bit down on my lower lip, let it drag out slowly from its imprisonment between my teeth. I should have kissed you, I typed. At the carnival. I should have kissed you every night, knotted my fingers in your hair. I want to rip that flannel shirt off your chest, hear the buttons spraying over my bedroom floor. You're something wild, something I shouldn't want, and yet I can't stop thinking about you.

Trouble, that's what you are. And nearly cost me everything with the warlock—

"Oh!" Shari exclaimed, sitting upright. "For some reason I didn't think electronics would work inside the barrier. She's got awful reception as it is. Cool."

Though she sat across from me and couldn't possibly see the confession I'd typed, I still fumbled the phone away in my pocket, cheeks igniting.

"You're up," I said lamely.

"And you're blush— Oh."

"What?"

"Your eyes… How are you feeling? Ame!" she shouted, not waiting for my response.

My anxiety, which had lowered during my typing stint, ratcheted all the way back up. "What's wrong with my eyes?"

"You ever have pink eye as a kid?"

"No, but Marten— Do I have pink eye?"

"More like purple eye." Shari forced one of her tight-lipped smiles. "I think we better change out those crystals now."