In witchcraft, the triple goddess is made up of the maid, the mother, and the crone. In mathematics, a triangle has three sides and signifies balance. Even Pythagoras thought three was the first true number.
Common sayings also include ‘third time lucky’ or ‘third time’s a charm’, which is a direct opposition to this ominous and disturbing notion that our bad luck will occur in threes. So why do people persist with this notion? I believe it stems from the human need to draw a dark time in our lives to a close, that there is a certain point where bad things will stop happening.
So while Harry floats up and down my room in a ghostly version of pacing, mumbling about pineapples, I contemplate if the incident at Peach Tree is the first instance of bad luck and my grandmother’s impending visit is the second, then whatever had Harry worked up would be the third. That means by this unsubstantiated and unrealistic law of the universe, my bad luck would be over.
Hudson stretched his legs out and placed them on my coffee table. I slapped his thigh. “Feet off the furniture,” I grumbled from my place next to him on my sofa. It was hard enough letting him inside my private space. This was my sanctuary, my one place of safety to escape all the demands of life.
“You don’t have a TV in here,” he observed.
“No. So you can’t watch your alien shows here.” I’d discovered his guilty pleasure was watching conspiracy programs about the unexplained. He and Dave religiously watched the long-running show which claimed that aliens were pretty much responsible for everything. If that wasn’t airing, they always managed to find something else, like the theory that we were living in a form ofThe Matrix. You’d think shifters would be more down-to-earth.
It’s not as if it’s the first time he has been in here—he once broke into my room in the middle of the night, and there was that time we were being attacked by wild shifters led by the Devil. Then he and Dave had repaired my roof, and again after the pack meal where he kissed me senseless. But simply sitting in my space, taking in his surroundings? That hadn’t happened before, and surprisingly I felt okay with it, with him, here soaking up my personal rooms with things I had chosen to surround myself with.
He glanced at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf which took up half a wall. “You read?”
“Whenever I get the time, which lately has been a rarity.”
“You need a vacation.”
I chuckled as I played with the tassel of the cushion between us. I did need a vacation, but with the threat of my grandmother trying to dominate the world and my father’s declaration that it was on my shoulders to bear the responsibility of humanity’s continued ignorance of the supernatural world, I couldn’t see lazy days spent reading on a sandy beach in my future any time soon.
“Is Harry going to let us know what the emergency is any time soon?” Hudson drawled.
“Being dead means you get confused more often than the living. Trauma and emergencies can take time to work through. If I try to pry it will likely set him back.”
“So you are saying we have to have patience?”
“Yup.”
“I hate patience.”
Harry stopped his floating and spun to face me. “Peach Tree,” he started.
I leaned forward with a nod of my head. “Yes.”
“The police came, then an hour later they came.”
“What’s he saying?” Hudson asked.
I shushed him. “Who came?” I asked Harry.
“There was a black van with a white logo on the side. A swirl.”
“That’s the chalice. The Order’s symbol.”
“The Order is already in Peach Tree?” Hudson asked.
“What happened?” I asked Harry.
Harry ran a ghostly hand through his hair. It was an unconscious movement, because he had no influence on his hair.
“There were five men. Their leader was a tall man, with midnight hair and white eyes. It was most unsettling.”
“The Hound,” I whispered. “My grandmother sent her best team led by her most ruthless elemental to Peach Tree.”
“They took over the scene and pressured the authorities to make reports supporting the cult theory.”
I relayed this message to Hudson. “They don’t stand a chance against The Hound.”
