“Holding my hands?”
“Yep, I’ll be able to get a sense of your energy and what might be attacking you.”
“Are you a medium?”
“No, honey, I’m a witch.” Calliope winks, tossing her thick black hair back.
“And what’s the difference?” Keagan asks. “I’m not being a smart-ass, I just don’t have any idea.”
“Oh, no problem. My abilities, like a medium’s, were inherited. But unlike a medium, I can access many different realms. I’m not limited to the dead or a certain group.”
Keagan nods. “Okay, so it’s… it’s magic?”
I tap Calliope’s shoulder. “I’m not sure I’ve convinced Keagan that magic is real yet.”
Calliope smiles at me. “With your persuasive skills, I’m shocked.”
“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I trust Calliope with anything. So you should trust her too, Keagan.”
“Oh, I do,” he says. “I don’t know what it is about you, but I definitely feel comfortable with you.”
“Good.” She smiles warmly. “That’s exactly how I want you to feel. Witches have gotten a bad rap over time, but not all of us are scary and dress like crones who live in the woods. Although I do actually live in the woods. It’s peaceful there.”
Keagan actually smiles. “Yeah, I bet it is.”
“All right, let’s get started. Why don’t we take a seat at the table?”
“Sure.”
Keagan sits down, and Calliope joins him on the other side of the table, while I hover in the background.
I’ve always enjoyed watching Calliope work. She’s so together and clear on what she should do, and I’m very lucky that our paths crossed when they did—helped along by her grandmother, of course.
After Calliope exhales slowly, she turns her attention to Keagan. “Okay, I need to hold your hands and sit quietly for a few moments.”
“Okay.”
He wipes his hands on his jeans, then offers them to the witch.
She grips his hands, closing her eyes, and as I watch Keagan’s face, I see his curious expression morph into one of pure amazement.
I already know what’s happening. His hands are vibrating and he can feel her moving through him. I know how remarkable a feeling it is, having experienced it myself.
His eyes flicker to mine, and I nod, hoping it gives him some comfort that I know what’s happening to him, and that it’s totally fine. He seems to understand that as he nods back and shifts his gaze to Calliope again.
I wonder what she’s picking up. I had the sense that he’s a good person, brave and adventurous, but also terrified and wounded by the events surrounding his father. But my sensory abilities only go so far, and Calliope should be able to get a better read on everything.
After a few more seconds, she jolts, opening her eyes wide and sitting back slightly, but she doesn’t let go of Keagan’s hands.
Instead, she seems to grip them tighter.
Keagan is watching her, also wide eyed. “What?”
But Calliope shakes her head. Then she’s thrown backward, her chair toppling over as she tumbles onto the kitchen floor.
I rush to her side. “Calliope, are you all right?”
She nods, pulling herself upright. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
