Free The Witch is Dead by Shirley Damsgaard Page B

whole process was finished. Frustration? Well, if Juliet were sane enough to realize what was going on, losing Tink would certainly vex her. All in all, bad news for the Finches—good news for me.

    My apprehension lightened.

    Wait a second—my question hadn’t been about the adoption. It had been: How can I protect her?

    I felt dread come crashing down as the answer stared up at me.

    Strife, stress, and loss relating to the family. And in the end, any efforts to prevent them would be frozen. I wouldn’t be able to protect Tink. Whatever the Fates had planned, the course was set, and I was powerless to change it.

     

    The next morning, I stood staring out the window over the kitchen sink as I finished my bowl of cereal. I’d tossed and turned all night while my brain searched for another interpretation of the runes. I didn’t like what they told me. There had to be a way to keep Tink safe, and I wouldn’t quit searching until I’d found it. I had no intention of letting a little thing like Fate stop me.

    I turned as Tink walked into the kitchen. She was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, as if she were ready to spend the day working at the greenhouse, but her eyes were shadowed.

    “Feeling okay?” I tried to keep my tone light.

    She lifted a shoulder. “Yeah. I guess,” she replied after getting a bowl out of the cupboard and pouring cereal. She picked up one of the puffed balls and popped it in her mouth.

    “Don’t you want milk on that?” I asked, opening the door to the fridge and handing her the jug.

    “Whatever.”

    “Wait a second.” I took her arm and pulled her toward me. Laying a hand on her forehead, I studied her face. “Are you sick?”

    She shrugged me off and walked over to the table. “I dreamed about Walks Quietly last night.”

    We’d met Walks Quietly, a Native American shaman, at the same time we’d had our run-in with the Finches. He’d been Tink’s protector and friend. I never did quite figure out exactly what kind of gift he possessed, but whatever it was, it was powerful. Dang, why hadn’t I thought of calling him for advice? It would be difficult to reach him—he didn’t have a phone in his cabin. But I could call the sheriff and ask him to contact Walks Quietly for me. I filed the idea away in my memory banks.

    “Really?” I said, following her. “You haven’t dreamed about him for a long time, have you?”

    Sitting at the table, she poured the milk over her cereal. “No.” She took a spoonful and chewed it thoughtfully. “In the dream, we were in the woods. Walks Quietly was ahead of me, and I was running after him.” Staring off into space, she took another spoonful. “I never reached him,” she mumbled with her mouth full. “He disappeared into the woods. I was afraid to go any farther along the path…”

    “Same place as in the dream with the corpses?”

    She nodded without speaking. “I remember thinking in the dream that the path led to them.” Placing her spoon in the bowl, she rose and carried it to the sink. “Next thing I know, I was awake. The woods and Walks Quietly were gone,” she said, dumping the cereal down the garbage disposal.

    I watched her with concern. If Tink didn’t start eating more, she’d lose weight. And she didn’t have it to lose. I needed ways to improve her appetite.

    “Hey,” I said throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Isn’t the Farmer’s Market tonight?”

    “Yeah, Nell’s coming to the greenhouse this afternoon to help pick sweet corn and fresh tomatoes. She’ll set up the stand with us.”

    I noticed her pink shoulders. “If you’re working outside all day, you girls make sure you wear sunscreen.”

    “Okay,” she answered, rolling her eyes.

    A thought suddenly occurred to me. “How much does Nell know about Aunt Dot?”

    Tink gave a small snort. “Don’t worry, I told her Aunt Dot was kind of eccentric.”

    I guess that was one way to describe her.

    “Nell thinks it’s cool.