Mistweavers 01 - Enchanted No More Read Online Free PDF

herbs. Then she placed the tea tin back onto the top shelf, not shoving it deep this time. She’d need it in the future.
    Why had she figured she could ignore or outwit the great Lightfolk, the Eight? If she’d been practicing her craft…if she’d been practicing, surely she’d have sensed Rothly caught in the interdimension? Maybe, maybe not…but if she’d been practicing and he was there she might have been able to pull him out…if she knew where he’d stepped into the mist.
    Right now, even if he were here in Denver instead of Northumberland, England, she wouldn’t have the strength to get him out, would barely have the strength to enter and leave herself. She’d let her natural magic ability to step into the gray mist atrophy. The skills it took to call up the interdimension, go in, stay in for a time, leave—those were all rusty.
    She’d have to use the tea, all the mind-body-emotion preparation rituals her family had developed to successfully enter the gray mist. And that was here—in her own home, in Mystic Circle that she’d balanced. She’d be lucky to last fifteen minutes, enough to orientate herself and find him. She should be able to find him…but hadn’t searched for him for fifteen years.
    He had disowned her, cut ties to her. Yet he was her brother. She should still have at least one small bond to him. She hoped.
    She didn’t dare attempt to save Rothly without more practice…at least three times in the mist, balancing elements—and she’d have to rest in between times. A day would be good.
    But the pressure of inner dread made her think that she wouldn’t have a day to rest between attempts.
    If she didn’t get it right, have the skill and strength to pull him from the mist, she’d kill them both.
    Her stomach sank as she frowned at the tea. For a quest to save her brother in the interdimension and a mission after that, she should make a fresh mixture. She gritted her teeth. A process of two weeks that couldn’t be hurried or even started when the moon was waxing instead of waning.
    Unless Rothly had made a fresh batch before going on his mission. Which meant returning to her family home in Northumberland to find out.
    She poured water into the mug, then set her hands around it and let the heat of her turbulent emotions bring the water to a roiling boil, counting down the necessary seconds, then stopped. As she walked to her bedroom she kept track of the time needed for the infusion. Finally, she whispered a small spell and the leaves whisked up and disintegrated, leaving a tang on the air.
    She could grab a ten-minute shower using the proper soap while the tea cooled. It was always better to go to the interdimension cleansed and with clear mind and intentions.
    Usually Jenni would heat her skin as she showered in cool water, or heat tub water with her own magic before she bathed. But she must conserve her personal energy. She’d need all her power to enter the interdimension and search for Rothly. If she got stuck herself she would fade away, die.
    So she let hot water spatter against her and began the process that would ensure a successful trip into the mist. She thrust away the notion that Rothly was trapped. The Lightfolk could be wrong. Thinking of Rothly snared, that she might be stuck trying to save him, could lead to panic.
    As a human and elf, she liked the water, her djinn part not so much. So she let the human enjoy the liquid slipping against her skin, and hummed. Then she let the elf part twirl in the shower, and sang. Then she stepped from the tub and let her djinn heritage flash her dry.
    She put on a raw silk orange robe and stepped in a particular rhythm to her bedroom, closed the door. She walked around a large tapestry bag that Hartha had brought from the basement.
    Jenni reached for the mug on her bedside table, saw her hand trembled. Chinook, who’d been snoozing on the bed, strolled over and rubbed against Jenni. Sucking in a deep breath, Jenni picked up the