Клеа Саймон - A Spell Of Murder

Only Clara remained silent. She saw how their person bustled about with renewed purpose and considered herself amply rewarded. What’s the use of power , she thought to herself, if it can’t be used to comfort those we love?

Chapter 23

The doorbell interrupted all their musings—as well as Becca’s last-minute attempts at soothing her reddened eyes. Drying her face with a washcloth, she called out a greeting. A moment later, she was opening the door to Larissa and Trent, both of whom reacted to her appearance.

“You poor dear.” Larissa pushed her way past Trent in a swath of multicolored silk and kissed the air beside both of Becca’s damp cheeks. “You must be absolutely bereft. I wanted to get here early to give you a hand.”

She followed this embrace with a pointed look at Trent that seemed to demand an answer. “I’m sorry.” His handsome face appeared drawn with concern. “I guess we both had the same idea. Merry meet, Becca.”

“Merry meet.” Becca managed a wobbly smile. “It’s good to see you both. Come in.”

Larissa took charge, as usual, ushering Becca into the kitchen with a sweeping gesture that released a cloud of patchouli.

“I’m sorry.” Becca did her best to summon a smile, even as she blinked. Clara, at her feet, sneezed quietly, while Laurel winced and stalked off. “I haven’t put the water on or anything.”

“Nonsense, dear.” Larissa craned around until she saw the kettle, then gestured Becca over toward it. “Would you? My sleeves.”

Clara watched as Becca complied. Having something to do certainly seemed to settle her person, but the calico couldn’t help but wonder at the older woman’s apparent helplessness as she ordered Becca around.

“No, dear, fill the pot with hot water, then pour it out. You don’t want to brew your tea in a cold pot.” With a flick of those sleeves, she herded Becca toward the sink, then followed to stand close behind her. “I wanted to speak with you before the others arrived.”

She turned theatrically as if she could see through the wall to the foyer and the door beyond. When she began to speak again, her deep voice was abnormally soft.

“I don’t think it would be healthy to mention our chat yesterday.” Even muted, her suggestion had an air of command about it. “About Graham and all. You are one of my favorites, but it wouldn’t do to sow dissent.”

“Of course.” Becca’s open face showed her confusion. “But…you’ve encouraged me before. Right here, last week, and if you did the same for Suzanne…”

Larissa’s sleeves fluttered as if she were patting down an animal. “There are too many factors, my dear. Things might be misunderstood.”

“But—” Becca paused, her brow wrinkling in a look of intense concentration. It was almost as if her whiskers were bristling, thought Clara. If Laurel had looked like that, it would have meant prey was about—and in danger. But whatever observation Becca was about to make was cut off as Ande rushed into the kitchen.

“Oh, dear! How are you?” She hugged Becca, who was still holding the kettle. “I mean, blessed be—and, please, let me.”

Unencumbered by flowing clothing, Ande took the kettle and set it to boil, freeing Becca, who turned to Larissa once more. But the older woman simply raised one manicured finger to her lips and then left the kitchen as dramatically as she had entered, a sweep of her long sleeves wafting patchouli behind her.

“Phew, what’s that smell?” Ande’s nose wrinkled up. “It’s not the cats, is it?”

***

As this was not their usual meeting, Larissa had not brought her special tea. Instead, Becca was pleased to find the scent of a spicy mint mix—akin to what they’d enjoyed the day before—soon filled her small apartment, almost drowning out the older woman’s perfume.

“To promote healing,” Larissa explained once they were all gathered around the table. “And to ease our dear sister’s spirit onto the next realm, of course.”

“Of course,” Kathy echoed as she reached out to pat Becca’s hand. “That should be our main goal.”

Becca managed a tight smile that even from over on the couch Clara could tell was forced. Her human colleagues appeared to notice this too, as Ande and Marcia exchanged a look that could only be described as weighted.

“I was thinking a sunset circle.” Larissa addressed a space somewhere above the gathering, and Clara tilted her own head back to see if perhaps a fly had gotten in. “By the river, perhaps.”

“A circle?” Becca broke into the other woman’s reverie.

“To concentrate our energies,” Marcia explained. “You know, because we won’t be at the funeral.”

“We won’t?” Becca was full of questions.

“Oh, dear, I guess you hadn’t heard?” Larissa turned toward their host. “Poor, dear Suzanne’s parents are having her interment back in Connecticut.” Her crimson lips formed a moue of disapproval. “Such negative energy.”

“Oh.” The small, sad sound made Clara long to leap into Becca’s lap. “No, I hadn’t heard.”

“We haven’t wanted to burden you. I spoke with her employer, of course.” Larissa blinked, as if holding back her own tears, which was probably why she didn’t notice Becca lean forward. Clara perked her ears up, waiting for Becca to speak. “More tea?” Larissa got there first, and Becca sat back again, holding her mug close.

“Well, since there’s no great urgency, shall we wait for the solstice?” Trent, Clara noticed, had been strangely quiet until now. “That might be auspicious.” He looked around at the coven, moving from Marcia to Ande to Kathy to Becca before pausing, it seemed, at Larissa, to his right.

“That’s a bit of a wait.” Ande sounded doubtful—and Clara saw her turn toward Marcia.

“It’s too long,” Kathy responded, before tiny Marcia could. “That’s more than three weeks from now. Better to do it sooner. We need to let her move on.” She might have been speaking of Suzanne, but she was looking at Becca, who slouched back in her seat.

“Darling, are you all right?” Larissa reached for her, but Becca pushed her chair back.

“I need a little air.” Leaving the table, she walked into the kitchen.

Laurel and Clara followed, and found Harriet waiting. “Treats?” The big marmalade rubbed her considerable bulk up against her leg, and then grunted as Becca hauled her up into her arms.

“What a pretty kitty.” Ande had followed her in. “May I?”

Harriet accepted the gentle pet as her due, while Laurel looked on. Becca, however, just stared out the window.

“I just can’t stop thinking about her,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course.” Ande bit her lip. “But you can’t think that you…”

Becca shook her head. “I was just wondering about what you told her.”

“What was that?” Trent had appeared, but Becca only shook her head. “Are you okay, Becca?”

“Yeah, thanks,” She released Harriet, who shot an evil glance at the warlock. “It’s nothing.”

Without offering up any treats, she rejoined the table, where Kathy, Marcia, and Larissa were deep in conversation.

“Luz thought it was probably random,” Marcia was saying as Ande and Trent took their seats. “A robbery gone bad.”

“I don’t want to suggest anything.” Kathy’s voice suggested anything but. “Only, do you think, maybe, it wasn’t an accident that Becca found her?”

“What?” Her person’s uncharacteristic squeal made Clara’s fur stand on end. Even Harriet looked up. “Me?”

“I mean, because of your conjuring.” Kathy scanned the table for support. “Maybe if you make something appear, then you also…well, you know.”