Page 9 of Her Magic Light

“Quite sure. That’s amazing. In fact, I could write quite the story about it.”

“Really?” I looked at the hummingbird again. Maybe Sweetwater had a pair of them. Maybe a colony or a flock, or whatever a herd of hummingbirds was called.

No wonder Kate wanted to write up some kind of article.

“You think it’s breaking news?” My words came out as a light tease, but if these really were rare hummingbirds, surely that made my paintings all the more valuable.

I pressed my lips into a line as I smoothed another color over the lightened strands.No. It didn’t work that way. I never ascribed value to my paintings. Not really. They were my passion projects, and they were really worth whatever a customer was prepared to pay.

“Damn straight it’s breaking news,” Kate finally answered. “Have you ever seen a bird colored like that? And right here in Sweetwater? Shit. Can you get my phone out of my purse and snap a few pictures?”

I hesitated and glanced at the hummingbird. Something wary seemed to glimmer in the eye it turned toward me. I frowned. Didn’t it want to have its picture taken?

But that was stupid. A bird wouldn’t have an opinion on appearing in a photograph. Same as it wouldn’t understand me if I spoke to it.

Still, I didn’t know that I could let Kate actually have a picture. “My hands have dye on them, and I shouldn’t interrupt your process.” I held up my gloved hands and tried to sound apologetic. “I can’t reach into your purse or touch any of your possessions. I’m sorry.”

Kate sighed. “Dammit. The first real story wandering across my radar in a very long time, and I can’t even do anything about it.” She chuckled. “Well, them’s the breaks.” Then she met my gaze in the mirror. “Opal hair had better damn well be worth it.” She softened her words with a smile. “Life-changing and all that.”

“You still have the mysterious men, right?”

“Hm. Yeah, but that’s all speculation. The birds are real, they’re verifiable. A picture of one in the paper could go national.” Her bottom lip puckered in a pout. “But wait—you said they come to your house, right?”

I gritted my teeth briefly before speaking. “Yeah.” I sounded hesitant. “But I don’t know when I’ll see one again.”

She made a noise between a groan and a growl, and the chair squeaked quietly as she shifted her weight. “I might need you to grab a picture of one of these little suckers the next time you catch one.” She met my eyes again in the mirror, but this time the stern look she leveled at me was one of a hard-nosed reporter. “Promise.”

I swallowed and nodded, bracing against the intensity of her reflected gaze, but I couldn’t speak to seal the lie. Now I knew these birds were rare, I wouldn’t sell out the one that trusted me enough to visit each day. Snitching wasn’t in me. Instead, I shifted the subject sideways.

“So,” I said, keeping my voice low, conspiratorial almost. “You think maybe if these guys are rare, the men in suits could be connected somehow?” Yep. What I’d said sounded dumb to me, too, but Kate almost tilted her head in thought.

“I guess? Although I’d never expect strange colored birds to be a matter of national security.”

I chuckled. “But they’re certainly more interesting than the mostly brown ones I’ve seen everywhere else.”

Kate glanced out of the window again, a thoughtful expression back on her face. “Ain’t that the truth,” she murmured.

As I watched the hummingbird, it hovered closer, like it was looking through the window at us, rather than the other way around.

“Feels like we’re in a zoo.” Kate chuckled. “I’ve never been watched by a bird before.”

The bird drifted closer and tapped briefly against the glass with its beak.

Kate chuckled again. “Maybe it wants you to recolor its feathers.”

“Or it’s telling me to hurry up with your hair.” I grinned and returned my attention to my work.

The hair took the color effortlessly. I just had thatfeelingher hair would look amazing in the end. Almost like I was able to will it so. A kind of color kismet or something. I grinned.

Sunlight streaming in through the window almost illuminated the end result. If I squinted, I believed it. Kate would be thrilled, not only with the kaleidoscope of her opal hair, but the flame and ice, too.

She shifted slightly, and her bracelets jingled again, bringing my attention back to the woman sitting in the chair, rather than only the hair in my hands. Sometimes, I got lost in colors instead of the customer. It was easier when I tried ideas on mannequins and wigs—if I brain-wandered, nobody cared.

“So.” I searched my mind for some small talk. “You’re a freelance reporter?”

Kate grimaced. “Something like that. I submit articles anywhere that will publish them. I have some pretty successful friends, though. A great network.” She waved a hand toward her hair. “I might get in touch with a friend about my hair. She works for a style magazine, and they’re always looking for the next big thing.” She winked. “Who knows? That could be you.”

My face heated, and I caught a glimpse of my pink cheeks in the mirror. “I’m not sure I’m ready for a spotlight. I mean, I love my work, and I love making people happy, but I love things the way they are.”

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