“I don’t know.” I explain how, at first, I seemed to be dining on a veritable smorgasbord of emotions as I sank through a group of people. “But the deeper I got, it all went away, and the next thing I knew I was swimming.”
Leo startles. “Swimming?”
“Yeah, I know. It’s weird. You know how much I hate the water.” I turn up my hands. “But that’s what I was doing, swimming and enjoying it. Really enjoying it. And doing it well.”
There’s a strange edge to Leo’s voice when he asks, “Where were you swimming? The ocean?”
“No. A river or a stream or something.”
He goes quiet.
“Strange.” Avery taps her chin. “It has to be related to an ancestor somehow.”
“How?” I snort. “Unless one of my ancestors is a fish.”
“Or an Olympic swimmer,” jokes Aaron.
“Definitely none of those in my bloodline.”
Avery groans and reaches for more candy. “Sheesh. How much chocolate is it gonna take to get my energy back?”
Aaron cracks off another square of the bar.
I tap Leo on the knee, eager to get the attention off me. “So, who did you talk to?”
He draws in a deep breath and stretches like he just woke up. “My grandfather. I talk to him all the time.”
So he’s done ancestor rituals before? It shouldn’t surprise me, but it does.
“Was he a healer?” I ask.
“He had his own sort of magic.”
“Is that his ring?” I gesture to Leo’s right hand.
“Oh. Uh, yeah.” He leans forward and takes off the silver band, inspecting it like he’s seeing it for the first time. “How did you know?”
I shrug. “Cause I have Grammy’s, I guess. And because yours looks antique.” Ancient, to be honest. But I’m not an expert in jewelry or historical artifacts.
Avery gets up to take a closer look. “I always thought it looked medieval.”
Leo chuckles. “It’s definitely not that old.”
We all gather under the lamp’s light where we can better see the ring’s etchings.
“They look like some sort of runes,” Avery says, snatching it from Leo’s palm. “But they aren’t Elder-Futhark.”
Aaron screws up his face. “Elder-frufru?”
He and I snicker like fifth graders.
“Elder-Futhark, you Philistines. Norse runes.” She tilts the ring into the light and squints. “They look more like Ogham.”
“They do,” Leo agrees. “But they’re symbols, not letters.” He takes the band back from Avery and points with a pinky finger to the first of its three markings. We lean in for a better view, nearly bonking heads. “This one is a Hawthorn branch.”
The family name.
“How many generations have passed it down?” Aaron asks.
