“It’s what I’ve always wanted most. I’m going for your lavender blend, not only because it smells wonderful, but it’s for relaxation.” She glanced back. “For a restful night’s sleep. I’m so up I need to come down some to get one. Right?”
“It’s a good choice, and yes, you’re learning. Which brings me to this. It’s a bit late, but I think we’ve both got another hour in us. We’ll work a spell. Something very, very simple,” she said as Iona’s face burst with joy. “A toe in the water.”
“I’m a jump-in-feet-first fan, but I’ll take the toe. Thanks, Branna.”
“Thank me in an hour, and if you’ve managed to master the spell. Here.”
“A broom. Am I going to fly on it?”
“You are not. You’ll learn a protection spell, and with this, you’ll learn to sweep away the negative energies, the films and dusts of dark forces and lay in the strong, the positive. Our home is always to be protected. It’s the first you should learn, and I should’ve taught you before this.”
Iona took the broom. “Teach me now.”
***
SHE SLEPT DEEP AND DREAMLESS, AND FACED THE DAY—RAIN,but slower and thinner—with enthusiasm. As she beat both her cousins to the kitchen, she put on the coffee and considered trying her hand at breakfast for three. Her talents there might be limited, but she thought she could handle scrambled eggs. And if she cooked ham and cheese in them, they’d be a sort of lazy-woman’s omelet.
Organization, she told herself. Line up ingredients and tools first. She got down a skillet, a mixing bowl and whisk, a grater for the cheese, a knife and board for the ham.
So far so good.
Eggs, ham, cheese from the fridge—oh, and butter for the skillet.
Break eggs in bowl, she instructed herself, then open the cupboard under the sink to toss the shells in the bin Branna used for compost waste. She noted then in the confusion of cleanup the night before they’d neglected to take out the trash.
Determined to be organized, she pulled out the filled liner, tied it, and hauled it to the door to take out to the big bin.
Inches beyond the little stoop lay a pile of dead rats. Black as midnight, coated with blood and gore, they lay in a circle of scorched earth.
The bag slipped out of her hand, hit the stoop with a hard splat. Revulsion urged her to step back in, close and bolt the door. Indeed her hand shook as she groped back for the knob to do just that.
Can’t run, she reminded herself. Can’t hide. There would be a shovel in the garden shed, she thought. She only had to get it, dig a hole, bury the ugliness. Sprinkle the ground with salt.
She started to step out, around the horrible circle.
“What’s it then, in or out?”
Connor’s sleepy voice behind her had Iona jumping back, barely muffling a scream.
“Didn’t mean to give you a start. Is this breakfast to be? Here, I’ll take that out when we leave for work, then—”
He stepped over, reached for the bag. Stopped when he saw the rats.
“So, he’s sent us a gift.” The sleepy cheer in his voice turned to flint on the words. “Here now.” And still his hand as he took Iona’s arm to draw her back held warmth, comfort. “I’ll deal with it.”
“I was going to. Get a shovel from the shed.”
“That’s what big, strong cousins are for.” He touched his lips to her forehead.
“And just what are they for other than waking a body up singing in the shower like he’s on the bleedingX Factor?” The annoyance Branna led with faded as she got a clear look at Iona’s face, then her brother’s. “What is it?”
“See for yourself.” He moved back to the door, opened it.
“He’s bold,” she said coldly, as she looked out. “Leaving such a thing on our doorstep.”
“I didn’t do the spell right. Last night, the protection spell. I—”
“Is that ugly messinthe house?” Branna demanded. “Are they living and scampering about in here?”
