Page 8 of Wicching Hour (The Sea Wicche Chronicles #3)

EIGHT

Oh, Thank Goodness. The Raccoons Have Arrived

W hen we closed at seven, there were several groups lagging behind that had to be moved along. Elizabeth came in to collect her kids as Carter was locking the front door.

“I drove by earlier,” she said, “and your parking lot was full. Was it a good day?”

Hester took off her apron and walked around the counter. “It was, though much busier than Arwyn thought it would be,” she said on a laugh. “Some psychic she is.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I rolled my eyes. “I can’t see my own future. You know that. And I figured anyone interested would have been in last night.”

“People have had their eyes on this place for months and months,” Carter said. “I have a feeling we’ll be busy for a while. At least until everyone gets a chance to experience it themselves.”

“Mom,” Frank said, “is it okay if we fill in before we go?” He was tapping on the point-of-sale tablet screen, doing the totals and shutting down the software. “And Arwyn, you had a really good day. I sent the day’s totals to your email.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you all. But you two don’t need to stay. We don’t open again until next weekend. We have time to fill in.”

“But you have that big order to deal with,” he pressed. “You don’t have time for this stuff. Faith and I can do it. I was also thinking. I can make lists for you of which items and which price points are selling the best and if there are a lot of people requesting something you don’t make. For instance, Monterey is often linked with otters, but you don’t sell any glass or ceramic otters. Oh, and I think you should sell your photographs just mounted on a board and put in plastic sleeves. More people can afford fifty or a hundred or whatever for a photograph that they frame or not themselves than they can afford a thousand for an oversized one already framed on the wall.”

He came around the counter and continued, “You know what I mean? Maybe some photos can be sold as individual shots—five-by-seven and eight-by-ten—and the rest of your more spectacular shots are only sold in the larger format with the frame you’ve chosen for that photo.”

I stared at him a moment, thinking.

“I mean, it’s your gallery,” he said, now seeming embarrassed. “It was just a thought.”

Faith glanced between her brother and me, clearly wondering if he’d overstepped.

“I thought I was just hiring salespeople and instead I got a business manager,” I said, clapping my gloved hands. “Those are fabulous ideas, and I’d love to know what customers are asking for. Maybe I’ll make them. Maybe I won’t, but at least I’ll know there’s a market for them if I do. If you’re interested, I’d love to have you talk with my agent, Mary Beth. You two can coordinate on the business end of things so I can concentrate on my work.”

Frank nodded, a huge smile on his face. “I could do that.”

“Perfect.” I looked around at everyone, feeling so blessed. I patted my chest. “How did I luck out and get the perfect crew right off the bat?” I shook my head in wonder and then noticed Hester standing in the shadows. “And you stayed the whole shift. I didn’t mean for you to have to work five hours.”

Hester waved off my concern. “It was busy. There are lots of people who can’t afford your art, but they can get tea and a cookie and then walk around and experience the Sea Wicche. I liked being here to give them that.” Smiling wistfully, she added, “It’s magical what you’ve created here. People recognize that, so even though there were times when it was crowded in here, it didn’t get loud. They spoke in hushed voices.” She shrugged. “It was exciting to watch them experience your art for the first time.”

Blinking back tears for the second time today, I cleared my throat and said, “Thank you.”

“Um, Arwyn?”

I turned to see Faith staring out the back windows.

“Your boyfriend is talking to three raccoons.” She looked at me. “Is that normal?”

I laughed. “It’s normal around here. You guys met Declan last night, right?”

Frank and Faith nodded.

“Good. Do you want to meet Otis, Daisy, and Jasper? They’re new friends who are no doubt coming to see if I have muffins for them.” I looked over at the pastry display case.

Hester went back around the counter and put on plastic gloves. “We have two apple cinnamon muffins, one blueberry, and one strawberry-pistachio left.”

“While I appreciate the automatic donning of plastic gloves, the raccoons aren’t concerned about germs,” I joked. “How about the two apple and the blueberry?”

Frank had moved beside his sister, looking out the windows. Even Carter was watching.

“Okay, sometimes they get a little scared. Aunt Hester, why don’t you come out with me? We’ll move slowly and quietly. Daisy sometimes panics. You’ll place the muffins on the deck and then we’ll move back so they feel more secure getting them. Guaranteed, Jasper will snatch his and run. Otis and Daisy are much more polite.” I waved her forward. “Come on.”

Hester looked a little nervous but happy to be involved. When I opened the door, Declan looked up and the raccoons froze and then scampered to him, hiding under the bench behind his legs.

“I think they caught Carter’s scent,” Declan said. “They used to do the same when they caught mine. The more they see you and understand you’re not going to eat them, the more they’ll relax.”

“I don’t know,” Carter said. “It seems healthier for them if they continue to run when they scent wolves and bears.”

Frank and Faith shared a surprised look. Apparently, they weren’t aware of the shifter status of one or both men.

“It’ll be okay,” I said, walking out the door with Hester close behind me. “Good evening, Otis, Daisy, and Jasper. Did you have a good nap today?” I crouched down and saw Otis peeking around Declan’s leg. “We have some food for you.”

Hester moved beside me and crouched, placing the muffins in a kind of semicircle around us. We both stood and stepped back toward the open door.

One raccoon moved out first. He rested a paw on Declan’s boot and assessed the situation.

“That one is Otis,” I whispered. “He’s deciding if it’s safe for his siblings to come out.”

After a moment of scenting the wind, his gaze darting between all of us, he chittered and the other two came around either side of Declan’s legs. Otis went to the muffins, chose the blueberry, and took a bite, eating warily as he watched us. Jasper raced forward and grabbed the other two. Otis made an angry squawking sound I hadn’t heard before. Jasper dropped the second muffin but took his to the edge of the deck, farther from us. Daisy finally came and picked up the last muffin, but then ran back behind Declan’s legs to eat it.

“They’re not normally this nervous,” Declan explained in his deep, rumbly voice, “but there are lots of new people and scents tonight.”

“Oh, good,” Bracken said, walking toward us from the far end of the deck where his RV was parked. “They came to me earlier for something to eat. I tried to explain that I had nothing, but I wasn’t sure if they understood.”

Bracken was my great-uncle who, at least for now, was living in his RV right beside my gallery. He was a historian, studying both human and supernatural history. He’d written best-selling nonfiction books, and I’d known next to nothing about him before a month or so ago. As Elizabeth had said earlier, he was the black sheep of the family.

I believed more than anything he’d done or hadn’t done, the issue some of the family had with Bracken related to his being on the spectrum. That was my take on the situation, but I wasn’t a doctor. For ages, wicches had to hide who they were or risk burning and hanging. My guess was that had something to do with our intolerance of difference, of anything that might call attention to us.

Bracken had been shunned decades ago. Consequently, he’d been living on his own, far away from us for all of my life. Speaking as another of this family’s misfit toys, I loved having him around. And as I’d said to my aunt, he was dead useful.

Bracken noticed the people in the gallery staring out the windows at him and froze, not unlike the raccoons.

Elizabeth came around the far side of the gallery to pick up her kids. Seeing the crowd, she paused. “Hello, Uncle Bracken. Do you remember me? I’m Elizabeth.” She moved slowly toward him, and he stayed put. Taking his hand, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I was so happy to hear that you’d come home.”

Bracken studied her a moment and then looked at me. He’d told me once that looking at me calmed him. He said my face was perfectly symmetrical and that perfection soothed his jangled nerves. “Thank you.” He was talking to her but still looking at me. “My condolences on the recent death of your sister.”

Elizabeth nodded and then gestured to the windows. “These are my children. May I introduce them to you?”

“You married a bear shifter? I doubt my sister was pleased with that,” he said.

I looked over my shoulder and saw Carter—whom Bracken had met a few days ago—watching all this unfold.

“No,” I said. “Carter works security for me. He’s an Osso. Aunt Elizabeth is referring to her two children, Frank and Faith. Their father is a Bishop.” I waved them out and they slowly came to the door, unsure of their reception.

Bracken, who could easily become overwhelmed by too much new at once, glanced at the teens a moment and then back at me. “It’s very nice to meet you both. You have lovely children, Elizabeth. Faith has the shape of your face and your smile. They both have your eyes. I assume Frank has his father’s facial structure. He has a stronger jaw and wider brow than most Coreys.”

I studied Frank’s astonished face and laughed. “You’re right. Frank does look a great deal like Elizabeth’s husband, Robert. You know, they’re all going to be coming here to dinner on Tuesday to discuss our family’s problem.” Carter already knew. I’d needed him to be aware of a sorcerer issue, but I didn’t like speaking her name when we were out in the open. I didn’t want the wind to carry it to her.

“Elizabeth and her family have certain skills,” I continued, “that most Coreys do not.”

He looked at Elizabeth with new interest. I knew that’d get him.

“If you’re free then,” I continued, “we’d love to have you join us so you can share what you’ve learned.”

His gaze dropped to my feet. I looked down and realized that all three raccoons were with me now, watching Bracken as though they too were waiting for his answer.

The corner of his mouth quirked up and he finally said, “I’ll do what I can to join you.”

“Good enough,” I said. “I don’t want to keep you guys any later. You all have a good night.”

Elizabeth gave a look that said she understood what I was doing, which was a relief. They all went in and closed the back door, leaving just Declan, Bracken, the raccoons, and me. Bracken’s very tense shoulders began to ease.

I went and sat beside Declan, giving Bracken a little more breathing room.

“I originally came over to see if we could take that drive tonight,” Bracken said, “if both of you were available.”

“Great idea.” I popped up, ready to go.

“We need to stop for food,” Declan said. “I’m starving. Then I’ll drive you wherever you want. I just need to be back by ten or so.” At my confused look, he said, “The pack needs more time away from your cousin and her friend. They need to work off the aggression.” He shook his head. “I’m really worried about the ones who are married and have kids. I don’t want anyone getting hurt. We’ll try twice a week runs. If that doesn’t work, I’ll up it to three times a week.”

The wind picked up. The ocean spray hitting me made me feel stronger, ready to take on Calliope. I knew the feeling would be short-lived, but I enjoyed it in the moment.

“What about you, though?” I asked. “You’re working all day and now you’ll be running all night? What if you hurt yourself with a power tool or fall asleep behind the wheel?”

Grinning, he stood and gave me a kiss. “Don’t you worry. I’ve got plenty of energy.” He nudged me toward the back door of the studio. “Go change into something comfortable and we’ll go for a drive.” He turned to Bracken. “Does that sound okay?”

Bracken nodded. “Oh, indeed. Wolves need a great deal of exercise naturally. When one adds in the effects of your cousin and her friend…” He shook his head. “I’ve been thinking, Arwyn. We have to destroy the book too. We can’t keep raising and nurturing this evil.”

My uncle was referring to the demonic grimoire we believed Calliope and a long line of Corey sorcerers had been using over the centuries. He was right. It wasn’t just Calliope, as it hadn’t been just Abigail. We had to destroy the book and end our family’s apprenticeship with demons.