Page 67 of Shifting Winds
I tucked the bag into my cardigan pocket. “Not even Cernunnos could speed up my healing, but I’ll give it a try.”
She tutted. “Oh ye of little faith. I try not to let the boundaries cross between my apothecary and the flower shop, but in this case, I think this will do you good.”
“I never said I didn’t trust you. Cernunnos said the tree’s magic was ancient, so old even he couldn’t help with what it had done to me.”
“Just give it a try.” She had a weird look on her face.
“I’ll have Caelan make me a cup of tea before bed. Just one dose?”
“One for the evening and one for the morning. Don’t forget either dose.”
“I won’t.” Chewing on the side of my lip, I debated whether to tell her something I’d discovered.
Moira knew my tells. “What is it?”
I picked up my cell and shot her a text.
Can you put up a silence barrier? My magic is too weak.
Her brows flicked up.Done, she texted back.
The bubble shimmered in an iridescent rainbow. Once we were encased, I looked over the couch to make sure Caelan and Ben were still outside.
“I found something.”
“Like a weird rash?” Moira asked.
“Ass. No. I’ve been looking inside trying to figure out what the seed did to me, and with everything sort of moved around, I found this weird…lock.”
That’s the only word I could use. It was buried inside my usually full well of magic. Now that the seed had drained me until I was almost mortal, the lock wasn’t difficult to spot. It looked like a glowing sigil, an odd symbol I couldn’t identify, and alternated between gold and crimson.
“A lock,” Moira repeated. “So you think if you could open it, you’d discover something inside?”
“Or underneath,” I confirmed, explaining how drained I’d been and how that enabled me to see to the empty well of my power.
“Interesting,” Moira murmured. “Have you poked at it?”
I shook my head. “Too scared. I’m already drained. What happens if it worsens things?”
She tapped long, elegant fingers on her knee. “Logical. But what if you can’t find it once your magic refills?”
It was already getting difficult to see. “What could have done it?”
“Hard to say. Could it be self-imposed?”
“Why would I do something like that?”
Moira’s delicate snort brought color to my cheeks. “Uh. Maybe because you’re full of self-incrimination and guilt over the Chimera thing, and you weren’t exactly all there during that period in your life.” She sipped her coffee. “Have you asked Hazel?”
“Not yet.” Hazel saved me after the Chimera attack when I’d lay dying on a Scottish field of wildflowers. She’s the one who helped me contain the power while I figured out how to deal with (but mostly procrastinated about) it and gave me a tattoo that suppressed the power to prevent me from being identified as one. Chimeras were considered dangerous and often executed on sight.
It worked for many years. Then Caelan walked into my life and Finn, the now dead Chimera who’d attacked me, came right behind him. While the tattoo had been replaced, I could access the power any time I wanted, though I knew there were many, many things I could do if I only learned how. But the thought of working with the side of me I’ve always been terrified of kept any desire to master the power at bay.
“I’d call her first,” Moira said. “She’s well-versed in the Chimera power and saw you at one of the lowest points in your life. She’ll know if you did it to yourself.”
“What if I didn’t?”
Moira exhaled, a grim expression on her face. “Then we figure out who tried to suppress your power and kick their ass.”
