Page 38 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

She gestured toward the bright blue velvet davenport, where another woman—about the same age—sat with a long-haired ginger cat curled like royalty in the sage and cream silks layered across her lap.

Clover had the same open, welcoming air as Ruby, but hers was quieter—softer, like a lullaby. Her nearly white hair spilled down her back in gentle waves, and her pale skin glowed with a natural blush. When she smiled, it felt like the air itself stilled to listen.

“Come… sit beside me, sweet girl,” she said, patting the cushion next to her.

I settled in with Chester still tucked under one arm. Clover held out her hand. I gave mine, and she closed her eyes, breathing in deep like she was reading my spirit. A large oval ring on her finger shimmered—shifting from pale white to green.

She opened her eyes, her voice a hush of certainty. “You’ve been carrying too much.”

Across the room, Katie was already pulling hefty antique books off her shelf. “So what are you two doing here?” She asked, her arms full of dusty volumes.

“We sensed you’d be needing us,” Ruby said simply, lifting a cup of steaming tea from the kitchen island and floating it into Clover’s waiting hands.

The sound of the tea cup clinking on the saucer stirred the cat in Clover’s lap. Tophie, I assumed—who cracked one eye, then both when she noticed Chester. Chester stared back, wide-eyed and tail twitching, unsure whether he’d found a kindred spirit or an enemy disguised in fluff.

Tophie blinked slowly and hopped down, stretching her front paws onto the edge of a magenta rug. With her tail high and hips swaying, she padded to the kitchen and leapt onto a barstool. Ruby followed, pouring a splash of tea into a saucer with an ice cube.

“Drink up, little one,” she murmured, then turned to me with a smile. “Tea for your familiar?”

“Oh—I, uh… don’t really like tea. But thank you.”

Ruby’s laugh was rich and amused. “I mean him , darling.” She patted the stool beside Tophie.

Chester bolted from my lap without hesitation, springing up like he’d just received a royal invitation. Ruby prepared a second saucer, and before long, the two cats sat side by side at the island, tails flicking in mirrored rhythm, sipping tea like little old men at a garden party.

I wasn’t sure if I was losing my mind or finally getting used to all of this.

Clover set her cup gently on the side table and turned back to me, her gaze steady but kind. “Now, Maggie… what is this strange energy radiating off you?”

I hesitated, glancing at Katie for guidance. I wasn’t sure how much to share—ghosts? Possession? Murder?

The look on Graham’s face at the range flickered in my mind. Not just the way he touched me—steady and focused—but the way he saw me. Like I was something worth protecting. No one had ever looked at me that way.

Katie didn’t hesitate. She was already flipping through pages, her black-lacquered nails flying over the yellowed paper.

She blurted out, “Graham Locke is possessed.”

Ruby nearly dropped her cup, her bracelets jangling as she pressed a hand to her chest. “Well, why didn’t you say so? Here we are sipping tea like everything’s peaches, while that poor officer’s fighting to hang onto his soul.”

“And you didn’t mention you were in love with him, either,” Katie muttered as she rifled through a drawer.

“I’m not—” I started, but the words died in my throat. Because maybe I didn’t know what it was yet. But I knew it sure as hell didn’t feel casual.

Ruby moved toward the kitchen, muttering, “And he still owes me for replacing the hex ward on the root cellar. Damn near tripped the protection circle last time he was there stomping around in those godawful combat boots.”

“Ruby,” Clover said, serene as moonlight, “drink your tea.”

She stood gracefully, despite the layered silks and ribbons falling around her legs. “Katie, do you have a copy of Nox Animae? ”

I blinked. Night of the Soul. Even I recognized the Latin. It sounded more like a death metal album than something you’d want involved in a rescue mission.

Katie chewed her lip. “No, I don’t think I’ve ever had that one here.”

“Damn,” Clover murmured as she scanned the towering black shelves. “We lent our copy to Gertrude Flummox, and she still hasn’t returned it.”

Ruby snorted. “Probably still trying to seduce that wandering sea-farer’s ghost.”

Clover sighed. “Her primary goal was always to get him to loosen her girdle, if you catch my drift. People who mix sex magic with lingering spirits are just begging for heartbreak.”

I gave Katie a look. The, see what I’ve been saying ? kind of look.

“Oh, please,” Katie rolled her eyes. “Don’t act like you’re all innocent. Clove, didn’t you fall head over heels for Cornelius Baxter’s ghost back in the day?”

Clover’s expression darkened with nostalgia and just a touch of pain. “Yes. And I still have the scorch marks on my thighs from when he moved on. I haven’t been able to cross my legs since.”

Ruby let out a cackling cluck. “Oh, he moved on alright.”

“Can we focus ?” I snapped. “What do we do if we don’t have the damn book?”

Katie huffed. “Will you two stop? This isn’t a gossip circle. Graham needs our help.”

“Maybe we could banish him?” I offered, though I didn’t have the first clue what that entailed. My only spell work experience was luring emotionally unavailable men and blessing freshly baked pastries.

Ruby’s tone shifted, calm and weighted. “Banishing rarely works, dear. And when it does, it’s messy. Temporary at best. I doubt Graham wants to go through this twice.”

She pulled a heavy black grimoire onto the kitchen table, the spine was cracked and etched with sigils I didn’t recognize. Katie hovered beside her as she flipped it open, both of them scanning the pages like they were cracking a code.

“We could try an Anima ad Obiectum spell,” Clover said gently, her gaze fixed on me. “But it would be permanent. The spirit would be bound to an object, unable to move on.”

Her eyes shimmered with caution and curiosity.

“So he’d live in a teacup forever?” I asked.

“Or a knife,” Ruby said, her voice low. “Or a coin. Or a candle. Whatever we pick, it becomes his prison. He’d still exist… but only there. Never passing through. Never fully at rest.”

“And it has to be his choice,” Clover added softly. “We can’t force it. The soul has to accept the anchor willingly.”

I glanced toward the window. Somewhere out there, Graham was unconscious with Uncle Silas rattling around inside him, and we were running out of time.

“No. We can’t do that.” I stood too fast, causing Chester to abandon his saucer of tea and leap up onto my shoulders like a little grey parrot.

He perched there, purring directly into my ear as I paced the room, weaving between Katie’s skull-shaped planters, vintage mirrors, and the tangle of fairy lights strung across the walls.

My chest tightened. “The spirit—it’s my uncle Silas. I don’t want to do anything that might… trap him. Or lessen his chance of moving on to… whatever comes next.”

Clover, unshaken as ever, poured another cup of tea and pressed it gently into my hands. “Drink,” she murmured. “Silas will understand.”

I stared down at the swirling amber liquid. It was warm. Comforting, even. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how hard we tried, this might not end well.

“Relax, Maggie. It’s just catnip tea,” Katie called from the kitchen, gesturing lazily in my direction. “Go on. Drink.”

“But I?—”

“—don’t like tea. I know.” She didn’t even look up. “There’s honey and lemon candies in the pie safe.”

I raised my eyebrows. I never told anyone that the only way I could tolerate tea was with honey and hard lemon candies. If Katie’s intuition was even half that accurate with magic, then maybe there was hope for me yet— if I could stop using my power for spells that only ever ended in bed.

Sure enough, tucked behind a jar of loose cloves and a tin of dandelion root, sat a plastic honey bear and a jar of lemon drops. I gave the bear a good squeeze, letting a few golden ribbons spiral into the cup. Then I dropped two candies in and stirred the mix with my finger.

The tea was warm in my hands, the honey and lemon softening it just enough. I took a slow sip, trying to ease the pressure behind my eyes.

I hadn’t meant for any of this to happen.

I just wanted him to believe me. To see me.

Not the mess, not the witch with baggage—but me.

The way he did for that one night, when his hand brushed my hip at the club and lingered too long to be friendly.

That was the moment I started to fall. Even if I didn’t admit it.

“Okay,” I exhaled, setting the cup down and grabbing one of the unsearched grimoires off the table. “Where were we?”

Chester repositioned himself across the back of my neck—front paws draped over shoulder, hind legs and tail over the other. I felt his purring vibrate through my bones as the catnip worked its magic, smoothing the raw, frayed edges of my nerves like someone layering warm hands on a bruise.

I flipped through another book, the pages brittle and tea-stained, my fingertips blackened by old ink and dust. Demon after demon. Banishing rituals. Chains of salt. Protection charms. Nothing that fit Uncle Silas. As far as I knew, he wasn’t evil.

“Have you found anything that doesn’t involve destroying the spirit of either party?” I sighed, defeated. “Because I haven’t.”

Clover gently closed the heavy tome in her lap. “Not yet, dear. But Ruby and I could pay a visit to Gertrude. If we can retrieve our copy of Nox Animae , it might help.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Ruby said, already halfway to the coat rack. She slid her feet into a pair of embroidered clogs and snatched up two wide-brimmed hats. “Come on, Clove. Up and at ‘em—we’re burning moonlight.”

“Call me if you get it!” Katie called, her voice chasing them out the door. “We’ll head back to Maggie’s!”

I watched the aunts disappear with surprising speed. “Man, when they get focused?—”

“They move like broomsticks on crack. I know,” Katie said, never looking up from the grimoire in front of her. “But Gertrude lives in Crescent Cove, and she has the memory of a dust bunny. They might be awhile.”

“Great,” I muttered, stroking the length of Chester’s tail still draped across my shoulder. He flicked the tip once in acknowledgment, like he knew I was unraveling.

“Let’s pack these up,” Katie said, stacking books with quick efficiency. “We’ll take them to your place, get Derek’s fresh eyes on everything. And we’ll be able to check on Graham.”

“Good idea,” I murmured, already gathering Chester under my arm. “I just… I hope he’s awake. Or at least alive.”

I didn’t say it out loud—but I knew I was the reason Graham was in that circle to begin with. And if something had happened to him because of me… I wasn’t sure I’d be able to live with that.