Boundary Born (Boundary Magic Book 3) - Melissa F. Olson Page 0,68

Unlike the haphazard room before it, this one had simple wooden shelves arranged with carefully laid-out groupings of stones. Everything was precise and neat. I took it in quickly, trying to understand the order of the grouping. They weren’t by color, and I didn’t think they were alphabetical, either—there was amethyst, right toward the middle. Maybe something to do with the stones’ powers?

Just inside the door was a box of white cotton gloves, simple and utilitarian. Blossom picked up a pair and pulled them on. “Gotta take care of crystals,” she said gruffly. “When you handle them, they start working, and like with any battery, the usage drains their power. Crystals gotta be cleansed regularly, not to mention stored and activated properly in order for them to keep working. Part of the reason so many idiot amateurs get no results. They don’t know how to take care of the things.”

I blinked. It was like she was describing the right way to care for an exotic pet.

“Three things to know about crystals,” she went on. “First, different stones are good at different things. You’ve probably figured that out by now.” I nodded. “Second, everything depends on the user’s intent. If I have an amethyst and my intentions are for my focus to experience good fortune, the cast works in that direction. If my intentions are to numb and sedate my focus, that’s how the stone works.”

“Okay.”

“But,” she said, holding up a finger. “People vibrate at different levels just like stones, which means that we respond differently to different stones, and vice versa. There are a dozen stones with protective properties, but your guy chose amethyst. Partly that’s because it’s powerful, but partly that’s the stone that’s attracted to him.”

“So that’s what we’re doing here? Figuring out the stone that works best for me?” I said doubtfully.

“No. Weren’t you listening, white girl? We gotta figure out which stone likes you best.”

She made me open and close my hands quickly to get my blood flowing and my energy concentrated in my palms. Then she started to pick up stone after stone, putting each one into my hand and watching me for any reaction. If there was none, she would drop the stone into a bucket, “to be cleansed later.” She mumbled the names of the stones as she went, and soon we’d gone through andalusite, malachite, purple chalcedony, black tourmaline, and amethyst. Nothing happened when I touched any of them.

After a few minutes I started to feel extremely stupid. Nothing was happening, and I had a feeling that Simon was right about crystals not working with magic. The furrow between Blossom’s eyebrows was deepening with every failed attempt. Frowning, she left the section we’d been standing near and returned with one cotton glove filled with black rocks. She placed one in my hand with a murmured, “obsidian.”

Nothing happened for a moment, and I was about to hand this one back like all the others. But then I felt it: the tiniest buzz, like the stone was vibrating.

Blossom, who must have seen the reaction on my face, nodded grimly, as if I’d just confirmed her worst fears. She picked up the obsidian and thrust another dark stone in my hand. “Cassiterite,” Blossom muttered as it started to buzz.

“Yes,” I said softly.

Blossom practically snatched it away and thrust something else in my hand: not just a stone, but a clear, gleaming crystal that had been carved in the shape of a skull. This one buzzed more than the last two combined.

“I thought so,” she snapped. “Death stones. Threshold stone.” Snake-fast, her hand darted out and grabbed my outstretched wrist, pushing up the sleeve before I could make the decision whether to bodily shove her away. She saw the bottom of my griffin tattoo and pushed the sleeve up farther. Her eyes widened, and I heard her suck in breath through her teeth.

Fine. Cards on the table, then.

I let her check my other arm, too, until both tattoos were exposed. Blossom said something under her breath in Arapaho. It sounded like a curse. “Witch magic,” she hissed through her teeth. I was used to Blossom’s surly expressions, but the look she gave me now was equal parts hatred, fear, and mistrust. She backed away from me, moving toward the curtain, and let out a long, low whistle.

And the well-trained Doberman exploded through the doorway, teeth bared and snarling.

Chapter 28

The storeroom was barely wide enough for the dog to sweep past Blossom and corner me, teeth gleaming