Old Magic Read Online Free PDF Page B

least you can do has already been done—to my sanity. Now, don’t bar that door, or I’ll take you through it with me, Kate.”
    A strange breeze starts to blow, trinkets and wind chimes start dancing erratically. It hits my face and swirls my hair around and it feels sensational. It isn’t angry, like before in the lab. This wind is mystical yet tame, and it sings to me. I wish I could share it with Jarrod, ’cause he created it. I’m sure of this. And it’s such a beautiful wind, swirling around my feet, pushing gently upward to the ceiling. I get so caught up in it I start to move, with it, through it, into it.
    I almost forget about Jarrod and his urge to flee. But he’s noticed the wind too. He’s looking at me oddly, his head tilted, a peculiar expression on his face, like he’s intrigued against his will.
    “Ooh, how delightful.” Jillian comes back in, her hands full of bandages and herbal antiseptics. “If you’ll just sit down for a minute . . . Jarrod, isn’t it?”
    He nods, his mind momentarily distracted from running, and sits on the stool Jillian points to. I watch him peer through the glass windows at the stillness of the trees in the forest. He’s wondering how there could be such a breeze in here when outside is calm, almost still. It’s good that he’s wondering. I allow him to do this without jumping on his thoughts. I have just learned not to go too fast with him.
    The breeze disappears the instant the first drops of antiseptic sting Jarrod’s open wound. “Hey! What the hell is that stuff?”
    “A tincture of Saint-John’s-wort. A very good antiseptic, anti-inflammatory, and sedative,” Jillian explains. At least she seems composed now, that frightening vision hopefully gone.
    “Can’t you use normal antiseptic?” he asks sarcastically. “Nothing on a supermarket shelf would sting half as much.”
    Jillian keeps working gently. Her fingers, I notice, are still trembling a bit. A hangover from the vision. “There now, not too deep.” She pushes his skin together where the wound is deepest, and sticks three adhesive strips over the top. “At least I don’t think it needs stitches,” she says soothingly, in complete control now. “Are you up-to-date with tetanus?”
    He nods. “Oh yeah, I would be. I’m always . . .” He glances up quickly, his cheeks filling with bright color. “Never mind,” he mumbles.
    “Good,” Jillian replies absently as she finishes working a sterile bandage over the wounded area. “It should be fine, but do see a doctor if it becomes angry.”
    “Angry?” Jarrod asks, bemused.
    Jillian starts putting away the bandages and bits and pieces.
    “Hot, red, or swollen,” I explain, having seen Jillian’s handiwork hundreds of times. The neighbors know her skills with cuts and stuff. And since it’s a good twenty-minute drive to the local hospital, and sometimes takes days just to get an appointment at the only medical center in Ashpeak, she often has neighbors dropping by for little incidents. Not just human incidents either. Jillian takes care of injured forest creatures too, nursing them back to health then setting them free again. It’s not unusual for someone to call in during the night with a possum or koala they’ve found injured by the road.
    Apparently satisfied with my explanation, and content with the first-aid job on his arm, Jarrod’s curiosity overtakes his fears. He starts browsing the various bits and pieces of oddities Jillian keeps in her shop, mostly for tourists—crystals, oils, charms, New Age books. Jillian pulls me aside. I give her a brief run-down on what happened in the lab this morning. She listens intently, sometimes nodding.
    “He appears so gentle, yet . . . ,” Jillian whispers, her voice trailing off. “I sense more. His aura is really quite spectacular.”
    “He’s filled with power, Jillian. I saw it. I felt it.”
    “It’s strange that he’s so unaware of it, Kate. Those that are born with