Mrs. Claire Walker, wife to Henry Walker, mother to me, Virginia Walker. I don't know what she is. What kind of witch I mean. She refuses to be 'named'. So she says. I've seen her talk to animals, plants, trees. Heal without so much as lifting her fingers. I think she hears the Fabric. Hears it talking. I would watch her for hours when I very young. For some reason, I think it took a toll on her. At times, it seemed more of a burden than a gift. I understand that now.

"How long has it been since you've seen her?" Newton asked.

"You know when I saw her last."

Mom and I became sort of…estranged, after Dad's death. Truth is, we were always slightly estranged. Wanting to understand each other, but never quite getting there. Then I moved to Santa Fe. And she moved up into the mountains in Colorado. Our visits were few and far between.

"That long huh?" Antoinette asked

"Yep."

"You're still mad at her aren't you?"

I turned to the back seat, seeing Antoinette with her face buried in her Organics Daily periodical.

"It's been a long time V. Long enough don't you think?" she asked.

I turned back around to face the road. "I'm not mad at her." That was a small white lie. One even I didn't believe. But I had to be mad at someone right? And parents are such easy targets.

But I remember something about that day. Something strange. She was different. Quieter. Even for her. She shuffled around the house humming and looking for busy work all day. She smirked a lot, her eyes seeming to avoid me.

When something like that happens, you remember everything about the day. What you had for breakfast. What clothes you were wearing. Everything comes into sharp focus. I thought nothing of it then, but now…

"It's complicated. And, I'm seeing her now aren't I?"

"Whatever." Antoinette muttered and went back to reading her mag.

Newton glanced over at me from the driver's seat. She knew. She knew how I felt about Claire. She understood that it was complicated. She let it go. Let me silently brood.

We reached Durango and the bottom of the mountain by sunset. After several miles of twists and turns up the winding mountain highway, it turned to dirt and gravel for another half mile. Their house, now solely her house, came into view as we turned around a mass of pine trees. The front of the house was almost bare. With a wrap-around rusty-looking wood porch decorated with a few chairs and a couple of tables. The sides of the house were another matter. A large garden peeked around the left side. Tremendous canopies of organic and inorganic materials weaved their way in and out of the pines to cover bushy green-topped rows, flowering fruit trees, buckets filled with vegetables, herbs, fruits. The right side showed the signs of her shop. Mom liked to do woodwork, metal work. She sewed, knitted, crocheted, made jewelry. You could say she likes to create, work with her hands.

We parked next to Mom's old Jeep and got out the car. Antoinette walked forward, already mesmerized by the garden. Newton stood stock still, taking in the land. Mom's energy was all over the place.

Antoinette looked over at me, "Should we at least knock? Now that we're here."

"She knows we're here." I replied and shut myself down. I didn't want to see the patterns here. She and Dad used to come up here together when I was very little. For romantic getaways.

On cue, Mom came walking out the front door, wiping black and sooty hands on an already dirty used-to-be-white cloth.

"Girls," she said. "So good to see you."

Only Claire could call Newton a 'girl', and get away with it. Mom knew Newton before I did. They met a few times when Newton was a kid, already involved in the world of witches. Both of Newton's parents are witches.

I took a few steps forward and stopped. I'd forgotten how different she looked from Dad. The reddish-brown hue to her skin, the wider nose. All taken from her Mexican and Native American ancestors. And she looked older. Of course she'd aged. But it was the extra lines around her mouth and eyes, there was something else.

"Claire," I said. She frowned.

I hadn't been here for sixty seconds, and already I'd earned my first frown.

"Mom." I hugged her. But I could still feel the coldness in me.

"Good to see you sweetheart." She touched my cheek. "Well…come on in," she finally said. Like we were vampires and needed an official invitation to enter her dwelling.

The house was just as I remembered it. More of a large and fancy cabin. The thing seem to coexist with nature. A couple of trees crept up from the ground, wound their way through the room, then took flight out the roof. Several half-finished projects littered the room, hung from furniture or tree limbs-half-knitted sweaters and blankets, ornate necklaces, earrings, amulets. Candles burned from every corner of the large living room. A fire raged in the corner stone fireplace.

"Rose!" I yelled seeing Mom's big mutt coming bounding through the back door toward us.

Rose was a seventy pound sheepish looking spotted brindle shepherd. A true mutt. Mom found Rose as a puppy on a stretch of West Texas highway. No tags, no collar, no chip. She said Rose found her. That they were meant to spend time together in this life. That they had unfinished karma.

"Rose has missed you dear. She talks about you all the time."

I'd only met Rose a few times. As she came to the family after I moved to Santa Fe. Maybe dogs don't measure time like we do.

Rose licked and pawed at my face. Her excited tail bashing everything in its wake. "Is that right? Did you miss me Rosie? Did you?" I cooed and squealed at Rosie as she drank in my affections. Though I could feel Mom frowning. She does not appreciate the baby voice. Sometimes moms are not powerful witches, they're just moms.

"Claire I just love your home," Antoinette said, walking in mesmerized circles. That did not surprise me. As an Elemental, Antoinette appreciates the melding of man and nature.

"Thank you Antoinette. Your home should bespeak your spirit."

"Thank you for seeing us Claire," Newton said.

Claire eyed Newton shrewdly. "I heard that Susannah is retiring. And that you've been summoned."

"That's correct."

"You've become a very powerful witch Newton."

"Thank you Claire," Newton said politely.

Mom smiled politely back and disappeared into the kitchen. She returned a few minutes later with a tray and four teas.

"Here you go sweetie. Just like you like it. Half cream and honey, half tea."

"Thanks," I said, taking my first sip. Subsequently choking a bit of it back up. Even with the creamy sweetness, the bitterness was biting. Unlike Lydia's teas, Mom likes a thread of caffeine. Or many threads.

Antoinette and Newton took their drinks and sat down. Mom sat across from us in a heavily quilted rocking chair, picked up one of her projects from a nearby basket, and began the click-click-click of knitting. She paused, set the needles down, and reached over to light a cigarette. I swear, Claire is one-part caffeine and one-part tobacco.

She offered Newton and Antoinette a smoke. They declined. She stopped, awkwardly, just before offering one to me. Then set the silver case down on the side table. She set the cigarette down next and waved her hand in the air. The billowing smoke made a jolting motion, straightened, then made a sharp left turn in the air. It coursed its way through the room toward the fireplace and disappeared up the stack. She picked up her needles again.

"So…you have some disturbing convergences in your area right now," Mom said, with not a stitch of doubt.

"Yes," Newton said. "That's why we're here. We think it's a witch."

"It is a witch." Mom replied quickly and tersely.

Newton nodded understandingly. Antoinette moved to the edge of her seat on the couch, eyes fixed on Claire.

"This witch seems to be attacking people." Newton continued. "Or attacking others through their loved ones. We don't know why. She's also using henbane to induce visions. We also don't know why she would do this."

Claire glanced up at Newton, then continued knitting.

Click, click, click.

"And for some reason," Newton shifted her gaze to me for just a moment. "We think she may be targeting Virginia."

If someone had dropped a pin in the room, you would have heard it…and felt it. Mom put her project away and leaned forward.

"Well…that's not good is it." Her eyes sparkled. They shifted to me for an imperceptible second. Then went back to Newton. "Tell me everything."

Newton described each incident in detail, starting with the first bogey, the possible harbinger. To the people involved in the beatings, to the drugs.

She looked to me after hearing about the incident in the maze. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. My sisters were there for me."

She looked to Newton then Antoinette. She said nothing. Just gave them each a small nod.

"This witch, what did she look like?"

"Well, I'm not even sure if she was real. I was…"

"Trippin' balls," Antoinette added.

"Hallucinating," I said. "But, I did see her pretty clearly. She was young. No more than twenty years old. She was wearing a long black dress. Very simple, wrapped in the front. She had long black straight hair, almost down to her waist."

"Fair skin. Soulful eyes. Full red lips," Claire finished my description.

"You know who she is? You've seen her?" The three of us shot questions at her.

She held up her hands. "I have seen her. I do not know who she is."

"Where did you see her?" Newton asked.

"She is not in corporeal form."

"You mean?"

"She's dead."

"Well…there goes that idea," I said.

"Not necessarily. Witches can easily reach across the planes. Especially when they have a strong emotional tie," Newton said.

"She isn't your witch," Claire told Newton.

"She told you this?"

"No. She hasn't spoken to me. But her intentions are not malicious. She is merely lost right now. She seeks me out sometimes. And probably others. To find comfort in the memory of love." She paused and smiled wistfully. "I think she likes to watch me metalwork. But part of her is still stuck in this dimension."

Claire rose and began pacing a tread into the floor. She smoked, read the ceiling. Or the layers beyond it. Whispered to herself. Drank from her cup. Lit another cigarette and paced some more. This went on for a good fifteen minutes. We waited patiently. "The bogey is incidental." She finally spoke. "This has nothing to do with your witch. But…she is responsible for the violence. She is stealing from people."

"Stealing what?" I asked.

"Stealing their happiness. Their sadness. Their psychic manifestations." Claire's assessment was confident, a bulwark.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

I glanced over to Newton. Claire began pacing again. She looked up to the ceiling, her eyes shifting back and forth rapidly. "She is…very strange. She has varied powers, significant affinities, tremendous energy and presence in the Fabric. But very…fuzzy. Like she's spread incredibly thin. I've never tasted anything like her."

"Is she a Seer?" Antoinette asked, fear lacing her voice. If this was a Seer, we were in trouble. And the council would need to be told. Seers are almost as rare as me. When you become part of the council, supposedly, you become not just a prophet, but a seer as well. Someone who can divine the ripples of fate and insert events into the tides.

"No." She nodded. "I don't think so. But her magic is very old. I haven't felt this kind of magic in a very long time."

Newton sat back in her chair. "Are you saying that she is an old woman?"

Claire picked up her pacing again. "Not necessarily. I cannot tell her age. She is…hiding."

"What do you mean hiding? As is sneaking? Subterfuge?"

"She is hiding behind magic."

"What does that mean?" Newton asked again.

"It means exactly what it means," Claire said, pausing at an outstretched tree limb. She picked up the end of a necklace, and rubbed absently at the crystal hanging from the end.

"Is she from our coven?" Newton asked darkly.

"No." Claire answered quickly.

Thank goodness. I hadn't known how I needed to hear that. Not until this moment.

Newton nodded. "Does she belong to a coven?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Can you tell where she is?"

Claire stopped rubbing and cocked her head. "Somewhere where there is much water."

That narrowed it down to every coastal city and town with lakes. Not very helpful. I did not voice this bit of doubt. I let Newton continue.

"Claire, do you know why she would use henbane? Or drugs at all?"

Mom paused then picked up her cigarette. She took a drag then walked across the living room to stare into the fireplace.

"She is using the drugs to grease the wheels of the psyche." Claire ruminated on the flames, twirling her fingers in the air, beckoning the smoke up into the stones.

"What do you mean?"

"She is pulling on the deeper layers of emotions. The ones we hide, the ones we ignore. The drugs are providing the doorway she needs. She is probably focusing in on people who have…unprocessed trauma or pain." The gesture was slight. But it was there. Her head had turned in my direction.

"Well isn't that everyone? Every single sentient being in the world?" My answer was for her. And her alone. My voice cracked with sarcasm and anger.

Her head turned again, but went back to the fire. The room was uncomfortably quiet for a while except for the crackling of the burning wood and Rosie's panting.

Newton studied the floor, absently rubbing at her palms. "And she has no particular affinity, as far as you can tell? This would help us narrow down the list. Especially given she belongs to a coven."

Claire nodded, "I'm sorry no."

"And this is a single witch? Not many? Or a whole coven?"

"I don't think so." She nodded.

Mom glanced in my direction, then crossed the room and sat back down in her rocking chair. Seeming content with her answers, and clearly finished reading.

"There's something else," Newton said. "It seems that Virginia is being drawn to the people involved by a symbol. Something that is being drawn from the aether. But Virginia doesn't think it carries negative energy."

"Show me," she said, moving to sit in the chair next to me.

I drew the concentric circles, sitting atop one another, and the spires, with each corresponding color. Describing them as best I could. "The center piece is definitely lavender. The color looks exactly like a light shining through a crystal…like an amethyst."

Claire studied it closely then paused. Her face shifting. She knew what it was.

"You've seen this?" I asked her.

She nodded her head slowly. "No. I'm sorry. I haven't."

She was lying. She never lied. I studied her face for a while, wondering if I really knew my mother at all. Why would she lie to me?

"Are you sure?"

She cast her eyes down to the floor. "I'm sure."

"Do you think it's being manifest with negative intent?"

Her mouth opened, then closed. "I don't know."

She did know. She was choosing not to tell me.

The sound of my grinding teeth echoed across the quiet living room. This was just like when I was younger. When I asked questions about magic. And she chose not to answer.

"Well," I rubbed Rose's head one last time and stood. "…thanks a lot, Claire."

She stood too. "Virginia, I," she said, words hanging from her lips. Maybe she wanted to tell me why she was lying. Maybe she was ready to offer some actual help. Which is what we'd come for. And as far as I could tell, she'd provided almost no information we didn't already have. "There is something…terrible. Something terrible is coming. You should stay here. Newton and Antoinette can figure this out. If you're in danger…" The look on her face was strange and unfamiliar. Her confident eyes watered when she looked at me.

It was disconcerting, but I didn't particularly care. "I'm not hiding up here while some witch is running around Santa Fe trying to hurt people. Hiding from the world doesn't mean it won't continue running without you. There are people that need me. My coven needs me."

Claire cast her eyes down again, swallowing uncomfortably. I didn't mean to imply she was hiding. Or maybe I had.

"Virginia," Newton started to speak. I fixed Newton with a stern glare. Do not say another word. Smartly, she shut her mouth.

"There is something you can do," Claire said, seeming eager to leave us on a positive note. "Find one of these people that was attacked. Maybe Virginia was drawn to them for a reason. Get them to talk to you. Get them to describe the witch. If they can't describe her, there has to be a memory of their interaction with her somewhere in their minds. Then you can find her."

"I had considered that," Newton said. "But for some reason, the two brothers have disappeared. And the third man is still in police custody."

"Then you must go to him. Go to where he is being held. You have someone in your coven. A shifter? A light bender?"

"A Copycat," I answered. "Dylan."

"Yes. The young man, the light-bender. He can share his bending. Between the three of you, especially you Virginia, you can extend his power. He can get you where you need to go."

I nodded. "Thanks." Then stepped out the door and off the porch.

"Virginia, wait!"

I whirled on my mother, my blue eye seeming to burn hotter than the brown. "I just want to know, Mom. I want you to tell me. Did you see it coming? Could you have stopped it?"

This was the question. The question that had been eating its way between me and my mother.

"How could you say that. Of course I didn't know! I didn't know…that would happen."

"So you did know something was coming. Why Mom? Why didn't you just lock us in the house all day?"

"You can't stop fate. You can't stop change. You can't stop the tides from changing, honey."

"Don't. Just don't."

"I loved your father, Virginia. I miss him…more than you can imagine."

"Yes, I can imagine. Then why didn't you teach me how to use magic? Why did you always act like I wasn't ready? Like I wasn't worthy of teaching?"

"You were worthy! You were more than worthy. That's not it! That wasn't it."

"Then what was it?"

"I…I had my reasons. Parents have their reasons."

I sighed and looked at Claire one last time. We had so much to say to each other. And so little.

"Nice to see you, Mom," I said.

…

The visit to Mom's house was disturbing. And not very helpful. It was ten wasted hours of driving and drinking bad potent tea and highway coffee. The ride home was quiet. Each of brooding.

I should be accustomed to Claire's cryptic talk. I'd had over thirty-five years of it. But I wasn't. And she was right, I was in danger. Someone had drugged me. Someone was out there bespelling others to hurt their loved ones. She could've at least told us what she knows. Like what that damn symbol means. But she didn't. For whatever reason, she was keeping that bit of information from me. And we needed every bit we could get.

She was right about one thing. Something terrible was coming. I could feel it too.

But at least we had a plan. Not the best plan. But a plan.

I spent the night at Antoinette's. I probably wouldn't go home for a while now. Considering someone was out to poison me with hallucinogens, and cast some nasty spell, or something, into the aether. And Newton insisted I not go anywhere unattended. I called in sick to work at the library. Which I never did. But I was desperate for a full nights' sleep.

"We need to get in and out of the building as quickly as possible."

"What building?" Dylan entered Antoinette's living room.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey," he said and grimaced. "Wow. You look like shit."

"Really?" I touched my face. The welts were now down to teensy scars. Lydia's poultice had worked its magic. I thought I looked pretty damn good for barely twenty-four hours of healing.

"Have you heard of knocking?" Antoinette asked.

"Want me to go back out?" Dylan thumbed in the opposite direction.

"Asshole."

Even in my foul mood, I had to smile at Antoinette and Dylan's passive-aggressive play yard exchange.

"I finally get to see the Casa De Elementos," Dylan said and looked around. "Not quite as lavishly harem-ish as I expected. Sort of homey actually…" He trailed off then turned to me. "So how ya doin' weirdo. I hear you got all freaky in the corn maze yesterday," he said after taking Antoinette's place on the couch.

"Thanks for coming over so quickly, Dylan," Newton said.

"It's no sweat. I just told my boss I was taking an early lunch."

Dylan's blue coveralls were covered in oil. He smelled like oil. And gas. And WD-40. And even in my foul mood, the smells wrapped around my libido, making my neck itch.

"I heard through the grapevine we have a rogue witch?" Dylan asked.

"That is an as accurate description as we can find right now. We're not having much luck finding this person. But we think you can help," Newton said.

"Sure thing. What can I do?"

"Dylan, we may need you to get us through a police station. Antoinette, Virginia, and myself."

He frowned and paused. "Which one are we talking about here? The main building down off 14?" She nodded once in response. Dylan chewed on his bottom lip. "I'm not sure, Newton. I can try. I've never tried to articulate with that many people around. That's gonna be a full house."

"We'll be there to help you. And Virginia can provide a nice measure of cover."

Dylan's power allows him to manipulate sight as it travels through the Fabric. He can attach intent to lines affecting vision and light. Making him appear as other things in a person's visual field. He can mimic people, objects. He's not a true Shifter. Someone that can alter their very DNA in the Fabric. But Newton thinks it will be enough.

Dylan looked at me. He was unconvinced.

"We talked about it, Dylan. I can wrap your magic around us. I've never done this before either. But I think it will work. We can try right?"

"Right." His face paled. Dylan has had a rough life. His parents abandoned him at a young age. He skipped around foster homes for a while then began his life as a thief. He used his gift, his power, to disguise himself while picking pockets, robbing lonely night-shift gas attendants, small stuff. Newton recruited Dylan after he tried to pick her pocket. Never try to fool a witch. She saw him for what he was–a lost soul, a witch, needing direction, and a family.

But I could understand him being nervous about entering a police station willingly. And to commit subterfuge no less.

"It's settled then," Newton stood and said. "Tonight we go interview the man that attacked you yesterday–Lionel Reyna. We'll find out what we can. I'm going home to cast. Maybe try and search the aether for activity. Virginia, try and get some rest. This is going to take some doing. And I don't know about you guys, but this week has already sucked me dry."

Amen to that sister.