Part 19 (1/2)

Protection, love, and joy ensnare.

With harm to none, hear our prayer.

Finally, she offered me a broom so we could sweep our way upstairs. ”Only if you want to,” she said.

Magic or not. Did I have it in me? More to the point, if I did, was I ready to accept it?

Maybe, maybe not. As my mother's daughter, I answered the question. ”I'll accept the broom on the condition that I sweep in Mom's place.”

”How appropriate.” Aunt Fiona squeezed my hand. ”Kathleen cherished this broom. I didn't want the knowledge to color your decision, but your reaction reveals your natural talents coming through.”

”I don't mind them coming through on their own,” I said, ”but I'm not ready to force them.”

”I respect that, sweetie, and I'd never have suggested this ritual, if I didn't consider it imperative to your well-being. When you want to read beginner's books on the craft, let me know. For now imagine your mother's hands on the broom, as they so often were, but over yours, guiding you and walking beside you.”

”If only I could see her like I can see him.”

”My name is Dante,” our watcher said, uncrossing his arms and uncoiling his lanky body to straighten and approach us. Not hard to look at. Not hard at all.

He examined our brooms, with doubt yet with curiosity and respect for our purpose. ”By now, I guess you've figured out that I'm not negative.”

Fiona chuckled. ”I knew that.”

”So did I.”

Dante's face relaxed. ”Then you aren't trying to get rid of me?”

Who wouldn't want a hunk like him around? ”Never.”

He smiled, chin dimple deep. ”Thank you. Proceed,” he said. ”I'll picture the negative energy here-and there's been plenty-going up in that ugly-colored smoke spiral with you, bas.e.m.e.nt to chimney.”

”Concentrate hard on the bas.e.m.e.nt, Dante,” Aunt Fiona said. ”Neither of us can picture it.”

”Happy to,” he said.

My confidence grew in our task. Funny how spirit confirmation helped, when so few of us saw spirits at all.

Us? I questioned. Those of us connected to more than one plane. Those of us with a gift. Hmm. I'd included myself in ”us” without hesitation. Imagine that.

I followed Aunt Fiona's lead and swept in a circular motion almost feeling the weight of dark energy flying from the ends of our brooms like sparks that burned themselves out. Negativity disappearing, leaving in its place a clean, pure energy that evoked peace and hope.

Funny, Aunt Fiona hadn't told me to feel such strong emotions, this certain belief. She hadn't said this time to picture it happening. The act simply slipped into my being on the dawning wings of a natural cognition and spiritual awakening.

As if sensing my newborn yet tentative spiritual harmony, Aunt Fiona hesitated, nodded, and continued. ”Sweeping is our last step.” She began her final chant: Kathleen, raise our quest,

As we sweep from east to west,

Neutralize, purify, cleanse, and bless.

Protect this place with G.o.ddess grace.

Your daughter's dream from bud to flower

To grow and prosper by the hour,

With joy, luck, love, and laughter won.

Harm it none, we declare it done.

”Oh,” I said. ”You invited Mom in. I feel her, Aunt Fee, as if I'm six, again, standing beside her in Stroud's candy store. Chocolate. Smell the chocolate? That's Mom.”

Aunt Fiona's eyes grew bright. ”I smell the chocolate, sweetie. We miss you, Kathleen.”

Oh, we do, but I was too choked up to say so.

We ended our sweep in the storage room, where we'd left the candles to burn out after the blessing, because this room, more than any, needed uber-positive energy.

”Madeira? Fiona?” my father called as he entered the first floor of the shop and came up the stairs.

In this crowded room, we hadn't been able to place the candles against walls, so Fiona kicked one of the more obvious votives from sight.

My father stopped in the doorway with the two of us holding oddly shaped brooms, ones he probably recognized.

”What the h.e.l.l is going on here?”

Twenty-nine.