A Light Yule Problem (Antique Magic book six)

Chapter Three

After she and Trevor got done lecturing Maria about the graveyard dirt, following her home that night and personally driving her to and from the graveyard and watching her dump it back on her grandmother's grave, only then could Caitlin calm down and concentrate on the antique Christmas lights.

Beryl was right about them, she knew, yet her friend's conviction didn't change her perceptions of the lights. She was certain she didn't feel anything strange about them.

She was being stubborn and she knew it. They didn't need to put the lights up. What she'd done so far should be decoration enough and if the neighboring business owners complained it wasn't, why did she care about anyone else's opinion?

Yet, something about those antique lights drew her as much as they bothered her. What were the lights but a plastic representation of every wish they would put out for the new year? Wishes they'd made already in ritual space. The other decorations she'd set out were enough. Stop fretting about those lights. Let it go.

But they refused to let her rest so she opened her mind and called on the universe for help. Tell me why we're obsessing.

Though she waited, letting the meditation draw out until her spine tingled with uncomfortable aches, no helpful images emerged.

She made a note of the night's ritual and her vague impressions here in her book of shadows—

Lights, nothing but lights. What does it mean?

—and decided it was mundane enough to share with the rest of the world so she added it to her blog. Finished, she decided to follow her own advice and release the question. Let the universe tell her the answer in its own time.

Besides, her stomach roiled. Surely from worry. A pre-bedtime cup of soothing tea enticed her, and she didn't want to ignore its call. She drank it down as she thumbed through her Book of Shadows...

Love recipe.

They'd always been content in their love life.

Rain spell.

Her garden was a little parched, but nothing the water hose wouldn't fix.

Spell for expertise in cooking.

Spell for expertise in dressmaking.

Spell for proficiency in medicine.

Spell to succeed in business.

Spell to attract faeries to your yard.

None of these spells seemed useful in her puzzle. She needed to relax her mind, if she was to get any valuable information. Instead of obsessing over it another minute, Caitlin dug in her herbs cabinet and spooned the ingredients into a white, satin sachet bag—honeysuckle, orchid, and primrose petals, a hefty pinch of lavender and a touch of rose oil. A concoction Trevor's ancestors used for relaxation. Once she'd blessed the whole mix, she put the book aside for the rest of the night.

The lights did blink in her dreams though, once but no more.

Should I be worried about you?

The blink occurred before she asked and not again. Puzzled, she let her dreams shift but over breakfast, she told Trevor about the blink.

"We'll take another whack at the things, then," he said.

Yet, Caitlin still grumbled at it as they made their way through the morning traffic.

They'd left Rhonabwy to guard the house, unsure if what they dealt with was a real—if paranormal—threat. If so, they didn't want their home vulnerable. So, they two alone came to the shop for another busy Christmas countdown day. Before leaving, Caitlin sniffed her new sachet, decided she liked the rosy scent, and stuffed it in her purse.

"One more try," Trevor said, drawing her from her grumpy mood. "We'll make one last attempt to get those lights working before I take them apart for bland decorations."

"Taking them apart sounds like a better plan." Caitlin stepped onto the porch and reached for the hanging end of the lights' cord. "May I suggest a hammer?"

Trevor batted her hands away, gentle but firm. "First things first. Stand back. If these things explode with some sort of paranormal energy, I don't want you struck by them."

"Agreed." A coil of her blue magic circled him as she raised her hand. The circle excluded the lights, and his fingers, so that he held them outside its shielding glow. If the lights exploded with an energy she didn't like, he'd be safe inside. "The same goes for you."

He removed the first loop from the eaves, and another, until he'd unstrung the entire set. Taking the cord inside, he left the bulbs resting on the porch.

He plugged them in and touched the switch with the same result. "That's it, then." He yanked the cord out of the wall.

"You tried." Caitlin conceded with a slight tip of her head. "Scrap parts, it is."