“Yes.”
“This darkness, what does it mean?” He might partially believe she was a charlatan, but he also knew not to dismiss out of hand but to listen and then decide.
“I only see darkness, storm clouds and rough water. Danger surrounds you, but not directed toward you.” She shook her head and Damon was on the verge of dismissing this nonsense.
“There is a risk that your heart will be harmed because someone you care about will suffer, be wounded, or potentially destroyed. I do not know yet, but it is centered around you.”
“From a storm?” He’d simply avoid going out into a storm and keep his family inside as well and they would be fine. At least, Damon hoped she meant in the literal sense.
“It is not so simple,” she chastised. “It is a warning of danger.” Madam Boswell reached over and grasped his hand. Her strength surprised him given her fingers were bent with age and what he assumed was arthritis. Still, she held on tight in an effort to compel him to listen to her. “Do not dismiss what I have seen. I don’t know from where it comes or when, or if it’s already here and waiting, or will come weeks from now. There is even a chance you may have already encountered this danger and it is waiting for your vulnerability. Youmustremain cautious.”
This was the very thing he would have loved to have heard when he was a lad, but he was an adult now and not as easily manipulated or frightened.
She spoke in circles. It could be a warning of danger, or it could simply be of a storm. If fortune tellers really knew the future, then they should be more specific. Her words were so general that they could be interpreted to mean anything in the coming days.
“You may go now.” Madam Boswell waved a hand at him. “Do not dismiss my warning or tragedy will follow.”
The hair stood up on the back of his neck, but he shrugged it off. He was not a gullible lad.
Cordelia foundIanthe sitting beside the gate in the small clearing, her back against the stone wall and head buried in her crossed arms over her knees. Her narrow shoulders shook with sobs.
The poor dear.
Cordelia approached, making certain she could be heard as she didn’t wish to startle a witch just gaining powers of which she had no control.
“Go away. You cannot help. Nobody can and nobody understands.”
Cordelia settled on the ground next to her. “You are correct. I do not understand,” she agreed. “But Madam Boswell sent me to you because she thinks I can help.”
Ianthe sniffed and peeked up at Cordelia. “How? You aren’t a witch, are you?”
“No. I am just an ordinary miss with absolutely nothing special about me.”
“I wish I was like you.”
“No, you do not,” Cordelia assured her. “It is much better to be special.”
“Not when people get hurt.”
“True, but you have not hurt anyone have you?”
“No, but I am afraid I will, or someone will hurt me.” She said the last part in a whisper.
Cordelia stood and held out her hand. “Come with me.”
Ianthe looked up with watering eyes, her cheeks tear-stained. “Where to?”
“Right over there.” Cordelia pointed to a patch of wildflowers that danced on the breeze.
“Why there?”
“Why not?” Cordelia countered.
“Why not here?”
She was a difficult child, but she was also scared, an emotion Cordelia did understand. “It’s good to be in the sun, and pixies like to play there.”
“Pixies?”
