No Way (Claws Clause 1.75)

Luciana waved her hand, as if wiping away the unpleasant topic of conversation. “Anyway, you might have felt the effects of her casting. It’s certainly possible. If that’s all it is, you should be better in no time at all.”

That made sense to Shea. Only… “Do you think it could be something other than that? I… I don’t think I sensed any magic when it hit me, and no matter what I try, I can’t heal it.”

“Oh, you won’t be able to heal this one on your own.”

“What? Really? Why? Was it a different kind of curse, then? Or a spell with a little oomph behind it?”

Luciana shook her head, her flame-red hair continuing to dance around her lovely face. “If what I suspect is true, no amount of diamonds could have done this to you,” she promised.

That was saying something. As every witch knew, with enough diamonds, almost anything was possible. The precious gems acted like amplifiers for more difficult spells. So if the head witch was sure that that couldn’t be it, then—

“Madame Luciana… do you know what it could be?”

“Mmm.” Her vivid purple eyes flashed wickedly. “I think I’ll let you discover that yourself.”

And that was the end of that. Shea had enough experience with powerful witches to know when her audience with the head of Coventry was over with.

On her way out of the shop, Luciana paused by the ornately carved wooden dresser that Shea had pulled the purple amethyst out of earlier. A glass display was perched on the top, showing off the expensive crystals she had for sale. The intricate drawers built into the piece housed the rest of the wares on padded bottoms.

“That’s a nice piece of furniture.”

“Oh? Thanks. I really like it. I actually had it made especially for the shop. Cost me an arm and a leg”—and that poor guy his ankle—“but it was worth it.”

“I’d be interested in commissioning one just like it for my office,” Luciana said conversationally. “You wouldn’t happen to know the name of the craftsman, would you?”

It was the last thing she ever expected Luciana to ask.

“Um, no. Sorry. I got a flier tucked in my doorway a couple of weeks ago, advertising handmade wooden furniture. It’s a local guy who creates it, real shy about his work, and he only communicates through e-mail. But I’ve got the name of the guy who made contact with me and delivered it to my shop if that helps.”

“It might.”

“It’s Wolfe. Colton Wolfe.”

All those weeks later and Shea recalled it easily. How could she forget? Before the awful squeezing sensation and the aches coursing through her body made it difficult to sleep, the delivery man with the gorgeous face, tempting body, and bad, bad attitude had been the star of all of her nighttime fantasies.

For a second, he had looked at her as if he had felt… something. Of course, then he’d snapped at her before running out of her shop on an ankle that burned so bad, it had to have been shattered.

“Wolfe, huh?” Luciana’s tongue darted out, playing at the corner of her blood-red mouth. She grinned. A pulse of satisfaction slammed into Shea’s rebuilt shields. If she was a cat, Luciana would be purring. “That’s what I thought.”

Then, before Shea could recover enough to ask the head witch what she meant by that, the front door flew inward again, Shea struggled to maintain her shields, and Luciana was gone.

7

It seemed as if Shea might have taken too long to unravel the riddle in Luciana’s visit. The next day, while she leaned up against her counter, rubbing her still throbbing hip, her doorbell tinkled again.

The warmth of the aura preceding Kallista Moonshadow reminded Shea of freshly baked bread. It was homey. It was cozy. It embraced her shields, rather than plowing through them. It was like being enveloped in the most soothing, most comforting hug ever.

She smiled broadly at the familiar beauty silhouetted in the doorway.

It was her beloved grandmother.

While Kallista didn’t stop by the shop as often as she did when Shea was first starting out, Shea was far less surprised to see her than she had been with Luciana even though, as of last night, Kallista had been an ocean away.

Mainly because, after that strange encounter, she was almost positive the head witch had contacted her grandmother.

After sweeping into the shop and kissing Shea on both cheeks, Kallista disappeared into Shea’s back office, returning a few minutes later with a steaming mug that she set on top of the counter.

“Devil’s claw tea,” she said. “Drink up, honey. That’ll help you with the pain.”