long hair gathered into a ponytail at the nape of his neck with what looked like a piece of twine. He crossed his legs and tilted his chin toward me. “Continue.”
“I’m done, man. I’ve been out here for hours.”
“If it were easy, you’d already be an expert. Keep going. Try to Journey again, tell me what you see.” He settled in as if he expected me to comply.
I shook my head. Fine. I’ll keep going. But I didn’t want to go to my tree again. Those shifting roots were downright frightening. “Not that. I’ll do something else.”
He lowered his brows at me, but didn’t argue. “Try to see me, then. A future vision of us together.”
Sneaky Fae . “Whatever.” Fighting a smile, I closed my eyes, folded my legs, and took my time centering myself again. When the vision came—a picture of us arguing, his face red and frustrated, me throwing my hands up angrily—I was so shocked I almost lost hold of the sight. I opened my eyes, and took a few deep breaths before looking at Salil.
“Well?”
“Uh…”
“If you don’t want to tell me the vision, tell me the feelings. Interpret it.”
Shit . “I was angry.”
He raised his brows as if he expected more.
I tried to relive the emotions from the vision, to let the feelings pass through me again and monitor my reactions to them. I felt love. With passion and need and frustration, sure, but love, over and through it all. I looked at him and shook my head. Not telling you that . “I think you will continue to be a pain in my ass for a long time, Fae.”
He laughed, and I wondered if he knew what I’d actually seen, or felt.
“Try another.”
“I don’t need a coach, you know.”
“You have one anyway. Continue.”
Fuck. I wanted to go inside and have a beer, maybe go for a swim, not sit here and get interpretation-lessons from my Fae crush. But saying no wasn’t an option. I looked weak enough already. “Fine.”
I tried another for Maxwell, attempting to see him and Myra more clearly this time. Easily, an image came to me of the two of them painting a bedroom a deep avocado green. They laughed and talked while pop music played from an old stereo. I opened my eyes, and tried to interpret what I’d seen. Was it a child’s bedroom? Or just a guest room? I wasn’t sure, but I knew it was a room in a house they shared. I smiled at the knowledge. I turned to look at Salil, who arched his brow at me in question.
“A good reading?”
I nodded. “Yep. My friend Maxwell. I think he’s going to be handfasted soon.”
Salil sighed. “Very nice. Now how about one of your mother?” He leaned back on one elbow and watched me.
“Okay, I guess.” It was a somewhat weird request. But maybe, if we were going to be together in the future, it was a back-door method of getting me to see a vision of him again.
I dropped into a vision of a future Mabon Rite, my mother’s favorite Sabbat. The Autumnal Equinox in Southern New England is a beautiful time—still almost as warm as summer, with a breath of fall in the air. For Mabon, we welcome the turn of seasons and the bounty of the earth with a food-packed celebration. We have a food drive, host a huge thanksgiving-style feast at the Covenstead, and work together to preserve the vegetables, fruits, and herbs from our coven gardens.
The vision I had of my mother on this future Mabon seemed typical: she was smiling, humming a song to herself, and packing jars with applesauce from a large, steaming kettle. I tried to focus, to get more visuals in the scene, but everything around her was foggy and unclear. I snapped my eyes open and frowned.
“Trouble?” Salil gently asked.
“I don’t know.” The kettle was ours, not one we used at the Covenstead. But why couldn’t I see anything else? Maybe there were people there I shouldn’t see yet: Salil? His family? I tried to gather emotions, but nothing struck me, it was just my mom, and my love for her was the same as ever. I sensed no threat,
“I’m done, man. I’ve been out here for hours.”
“If it were easy, you’d already be an expert. Keep going. Try to Journey again, tell me what you see.” He settled in as if he expected me to comply.
I shook my head. Fine. I’ll keep going. But I didn’t want to go to my tree again. Those shifting roots were downright frightening. “Not that. I’ll do something else.”
He lowered his brows at me, but didn’t argue. “Try to see me, then. A future vision of us together.”
Sneaky Fae . “Whatever.” Fighting a smile, I closed my eyes, folded my legs, and took my time centering myself again. When the vision came—a picture of us arguing, his face red and frustrated, me throwing my hands up angrily—I was so shocked I almost lost hold of the sight. I opened my eyes, and took a few deep breaths before looking at Salil.
“Well?”
“Uh…”
“If you don’t want to tell me the vision, tell me the feelings. Interpret it.”
Shit . “I was angry.”
He raised his brows as if he expected more.
I tried to relive the emotions from the vision, to let the feelings pass through me again and monitor my reactions to them. I felt love. With passion and need and frustration, sure, but love, over and through it all. I looked at him and shook my head. Not telling you that . “I think you will continue to be a pain in my ass for a long time, Fae.”
He laughed, and I wondered if he knew what I’d actually seen, or felt.
“Try another.”
“I don’t need a coach, you know.”
“You have one anyway. Continue.”
Fuck. I wanted to go inside and have a beer, maybe go for a swim, not sit here and get interpretation-lessons from my Fae crush. But saying no wasn’t an option. I looked weak enough already. “Fine.”
I tried another for Maxwell, attempting to see him and Myra more clearly this time. Easily, an image came to me of the two of them painting a bedroom a deep avocado green. They laughed and talked while pop music played from an old stereo. I opened my eyes, and tried to interpret what I’d seen. Was it a child’s bedroom? Or just a guest room? I wasn’t sure, but I knew it was a room in a house they shared. I smiled at the knowledge. I turned to look at Salil, who arched his brow at me in question.
“A good reading?”
I nodded. “Yep. My friend Maxwell. I think he’s going to be handfasted soon.”
Salil sighed. “Very nice. Now how about one of your mother?” He leaned back on one elbow and watched me.
“Okay, I guess.” It was a somewhat weird request. But maybe, if we were going to be together in the future, it was a back-door method of getting me to see a vision of him again.
I dropped into a vision of a future Mabon Rite, my mother’s favorite Sabbat. The Autumnal Equinox in Southern New England is a beautiful time—still almost as warm as summer, with a breath of fall in the air. For Mabon, we welcome the turn of seasons and the bounty of the earth with a food-packed celebration. We have a food drive, host a huge thanksgiving-style feast at the Covenstead, and work together to preserve the vegetables, fruits, and herbs from our coven gardens.
The vision I had of my mother on this future Mabon seemed typical: she was smiling, humming a song to herself, and packing jars with applesauce from a large, steaming kettle. I tried to focus, to get more visuals in the scene, but everything around her was foggy and unclear. I snapped my eyes open and frowned.
“Trouble?” Salil gently asked.
“I don’t know.” The kettle was ours, not one we used at the Covenstead. But why couldn’t I see anything else? Maybe there were people there I shouldn’t see yet: Salil? His family? I tried to gather emotions, but nothing struck me, it was just my mom, and my love for her was the same as ever. I sensed no threat,
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