With resignation, Colin went in to greet his mother.
* * * * *
Sibyl sat next to Colin in Mrs. Byrne’s magic room.
Across from them, Mrs. Byrne, who was still not her usual, vital self, was moving around carefully as if her body was a fragile thing. Still, she was muttering chants as she clinked and clacked amongst a plethora of vials, shakers, mortars and pestles, and other extraordinary flotsam and jetsam of witch paraphernalia she kept in her magic room. A room, done up in plums and roses, tassels and velvets, shelves and spindly tables carrying strange and fascinating objects, it looked like a set right out of a movie.
Phoebe, who had come into the story late and was still processing it, sat silently across the room, staring stupefied at Marian’s activity.
Angie, Mrs. Byrne’s daughter, was assisting her mother as if they did this kind of thing every day.
Mags was sitting next to Phoebe barely able to hold herself still, alight with glee.
Sibyl slid a cautious glance toward Colin who was not happy at all. He was obviously dubious and it was just as obvious he wished to be somewhere else. He was sitting with one ankle casually resting on his other knee, slouched arrogantly and one of his arms was lying across the back of Sibyl’s chair.
Regardless of his nonchalant position, he seemed wired, ready to pounce.
Since returning from Heathrow, Sibyl noticed that something had changed in him. He seemed impatient and energetic, like a big cat prowling back and forth in front of its cage in a zoo, desperate to get out.
Sibyl thought, looking at him, that perhaps it hadn’t been wise to push this magical protection spell thing that afternoon. He hadn’t wanted to come and now that he was there, it was blindingly obvious he very much didn’t want to be.
However, Sibyl had a plan. In fact, she had two plans and she needed to talk to Marian about them because she needed the older woman’s help.
She’d been thinking about it in an effort not to think about her confession of love last night and the fact that it was not returned.
Sibyl believed this was all more than lucky coincidence. That it all fit together. That there was magic and mayhem in the air and Sibyl had to find a way to stop it.
As crazy as it all seemed, Sibyl believed Mrs. Byrne.
Colin could hire dozens of private investigators if he wanted to but Sibyl was going to investigate the magical side.
“Now!” Mrs. Byrne announced happily, turning toward Sibyl and Colin and taking Sibyl from her thoughts. Phoebe jumped nervously as Mags leaned forward in excitement. “I started this weeks ago, so it’s been fermenting nicely,” Mrs. Byrne explained. “I’ve added a few of my own, personal touches and left it to marinade this morning. It should do the trick.”
She sounded like she was talking about a recipe for chicken.
“She’s very good,” Angie stated proudly, her eyes on her mother.
Mrs. Byrne moved forward with a glass vial in one hand that had a powder in it that looked like cinnamon, a common kitchen strainer in the other.
Marian moved directly toward Colin.
“This won’t hurt a bit,” she assured and lifted the vial and strainer over his head.
“What,” his voice was low and even and very, very frightening but not nearly as frightening as the hard, cold look on his face, a look and tone that froze Marian’s hands in mid air, “do you think you’re going to do with that?”
“Why, pour it over your head,” Marian explained as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
He lithely slid out of his chair, out from under the strainer and towered over her. “I think not.”
Marian’s face set resolutely. “My dear man –”
“Do me!” Sibyl interjected, finding herself in the role of peacemaker. If she didn’t step in, by the look on his face, Colin was likely to explode. “You can do me first, I don’t mind.”
Marian turned to Sibyl. “The most potent effects of the charm come in the first few sprinkles,” Marian explained, “and Colin –”
“By all means, shower away on Sibyl, especially if they are the most potent,” Colin cut in. He’d crossed his arms on his chest and now, instead of looking furious, he looked amused.
Sibyl made a face at him which caused him, to her great distress, to let out a sharp bark of laughter.