Page 9 of Her Dreadful Will
But when the dentist saidrelax, he accompanied it with a palm to her forehead.Inappropriate, her mind warned, but it was a muggy, slurred protest. The warm press of his hand siphoned all her fears away. Her muscles released every bit of tension and terror, turning loose and heavy. Even her eyelids felt heavy—dragging shut in spite of her best efforts.
Had he already injected her with anesthetic? Maybe some kind of gas? Maybe...
Her mind softened and slid into a pleasant gray fog where she was calm and comfortable, thinking of absolutely nothing at all.
“We’re all done here, Mrs. Brownell!” The hygienist was back, unclipping Elena’s papery bib. “Keep biting down on that gauze pad, and get some extra rest today, okay? I printed this out for you—information on how to care for the area, what you can eat and drink for the next 24-48 hours, what you can take for pain. If you have any trouble, just call the office. Otherwise we’ll see you back here in a couple weeks to start the process of getting you a dental implant! Do you want to go ahead and set up that appointment now?”
Elena couldn’t speak around the wad of soggy gauze clenched in her teeth, but she nodded. Sure, she was leaving the new dentist’s office with one less tooth, but her mouth would be healthier now. She would be getting a replacement, something to fill the gap.
And she would get to see young Dr. Gilliam again.
She smiled, and it tasted of blood and forbidden delight.
6
Soleil arrived at the Georgia Mountain Market at precisely eight o’clock on Friday morning. Her shop was closed today, allowing her time to browse the motley tables and booths of the market for undervalued treasures she could refresh and resell. Her shelves were already laden with merchandise, but having a healthy stock with which to resupply made her feel more secure.
She hopped out of the car and breathed in deeply. The cool morning air was already thickening with heat and moisture, but she relished the aroma of spices and roasting meat venting from the Wicked Pig buffet a little way down the street. As Soleil approached the entrance to the warehouse, the bitter scent of old cigarettes mingled with the woody aroma of the buffet’s smokers.
There was another scent too—the faint, distinctive acridity of burnt sage. She couldn’t remember smelling it here before. And last time there certainly hadn’t been a bundle of hyssop, chamomile, lavender, and patchouli tacked to a post near the door.
Was another witch here?
Soleil’s heart jolted eagerly. To meet another witch in person—to actually speak face to face, without a screen between them—
Forbidden, she reminded herself. Connecting in person with other witches was foolish, and frowned upon by the Convocation. Friendships between witches led to the formation of unregistered, illegal covens, which then risked exposure of the magical community. She had heard the warning often enough from her Institute professors.
But surely a chance meeting couldn’t do any harm. Maybe if she kept her eyes open, she could figure out which vendor had magical propensities. That particular combination of herbs wasn’t the work of an amateur. Someone was protecting the building, promoting peace and repelling curses.
Soleil merged with the swarm of early bargain hunters and entered the market, inhaling the musty, dusty smell of a hundred attics—wool and paint, cedar and varnish, cotton and copper. Her fingertips tingled with delight, aching to touch things, to discover precious items that everyone else had overlooked.
Over the next hour she picked up several items of interest—a selection of milky porcelain figures hand-painted in cornflower blue, a mid-century desk lamp with a brilliant green-glass shade, a handwoven sweetgrass basket in excellent condition. She particularly liked the basket, a tribute to the unique and beautiful craftsmanship of an unknown Gullah artist.
Her fingers floated across a row of tiny Christmas ornaments, exquisitely carved wooden pieces as lightweight as snowflakes. She suspected German origins.
Something pressed a thread of Soleil’s consciousness. A light touch, barely noticeable.
Her head snapped in the direction of the pressure, her eyes narrowing. Someone or something had called to her mind. A witch without mental powers might never have noticed the contact, but Soleil’s abilities included heightened sensitivity.
The woman at the next booth was busy with a young couple. Beyond her, a bearded, heavy-set man in overalls was chomping a wad of gum. No one else was nearby.
Again, a faint tug at Soleil’s mind. She caught the thread of contact this time, analyzing it. There was no consciousness at the other end, no volisphere to read. A magical object, then.
She walked toward the bearded man’s table. It was stacked with holiday paraphernalia, hand-tooled leather wallets and cuffs, and a selection of silverware. Near the end sat a velvet-lined tray containing a jumble of miscellaneous rings, pins, and earrings. Soleil touched a couple of them lightly.
“Most of those earrings ain’t got a match.” The bearded man’s lips smacked over his gum. “Fair warning.”
“Thank you.” Soleil was dimly aware of his volisphere—a murky swirl primarily motivated by beer, cigarettes, burgers, and porn. She didn’t care to look more closely.
Especially not once she noticed the ring.
It lay in the tray, half-buried under gaudy costume jewelry, and from it emanated the pulling sensation, the tug of magic she had felt a moment earlier. The band was a pair of entwined serpents, with a central dark red stone clasped in skeletal hands, flanked by tiny fleurs-de-lis.
Soleil forced herself to pick it up casually, slowly, not betraying a hint of her raging fascination with it. She wore rings on every finger—rings with special powers. Some were constantly active, giving her a persistent energy boost or allowing her to channel her magic in specific ways. Other rings had latent abilities that permitted more dramatic acts of magic, but drained her radiance in the process.
Cradling the ring in her palm, she waited for it to speak to her.
Most enchanted rings were easy to evaluate; any witch who touched them could immediately discern their abilities, both active and latent. But this one didn’t speak clearly to Soleil, though she could sense the sorcery embedded in it.
