Free The Zodiac Collector by Laura Diamond Page B

blink. “Uh, are you making fun of me?”
    She blows a raspberry and snaps a photo of me. “It’s the Renaissance Faire. The only place where magick really is real.”
    I scrunch my nose at her.
    She grins and clicks another pic.
    â€œI’m going to hold you to that and make you chant here, on the faire grounds.”
    Her smile fades. “You never let anything go.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” I reach out and yank a leaf off a nearby maple.
    â€œYou’re not giving up on this magick thing, are you?”
    I stare at the leaf’s veins. “It’s real, Mary. You said you remembered…”
    â€œYeah, that it didn’t work. We’ve already talked about this and we had a fight. I don’t want to discuss it again.” She palms her camera and walks toward the main path.
    â€œWhy can’t we talk about it?” I stomp after her, huffing with every step. The pollen mixed with the frustration of Mary dodging yet another important conversation inflames my lungs. I pause long enough to use my inhaler.
    Mary twists to face me. Her brow furrows, shifting her from avoidance mode to overprotective mode. “Anne, are you okay?”
    I lean over and prop my hands on my knees. The trail’s entrance—and the freedom of open air—is so close and yet so far. Oxygen is oxygen, but magickal, dark-forest air has a decidedly heavier quality than sunny field air.
    She rushes over to me. “You sound wheezy. I’m sorry, all right? Don’t go into a full attack because of me.” She rubs my back like it’ll open my lungs or something. “Focus on breathing.”
    â€œYeah, I’m doing that.” I close my eyes and visualize cool, clean air opening my airways and expanding my lungs. The tightness eases some. The confusion about Mary thinking the asthma flare is her fault doesn’t. Asthma is asthma. The only person that brings it on is me—when I’m upset, it’s worse. No one can control my emotions, except me. And I suck at it.
    â€œAre you girls lost?” A dry, gravelly voice interrupts us.
    We spin to face an old woman standing just a few feet away. Dressed in a black, hooded cape, she looks a lot like the witch in Snow White. Without the warts and hooked nose, but with twice the wrinkles.
    â€œTwins. How lovely. The bond between twins is so much stronger than that of other siblings.” Intense black eyes scour over us. Her jagged smile slashes at me like the tines of a rusty rake.
    â€œWhere’d you come from?” Mary asks, trying to sound polite. Her fingers digging into my arm, however, tell me she’s feeling anything but friendly.
    The woman’s gaze locks onto mine and my mind splits open, leaving me raw and exposed. My heart races in a rush to heal the assault of her cleaving stare. “I have a shoppe at the end of the trail. I sell trinkets, love potions, herbal teas, talismans, and the like.”
    â€œThat’s nice.” I cough and suck on some albuterol, telling myself she’s an innocent, old woman dressed up as a witch to sell her goods, not some sorceress wandering a forbidden, magickal forest.
    She stretches a crooked index finger and points at my pin. “The Gemini symbol. Wonderful!” She laughs, but it comes out as a half-cackle, half-grunt. “I collect Zodiac symbols. I could show you. Come take a look. You might find something you like.”
    â€œMaybe later. We’re meeting someone.” Mary bites her lip.
    â€œIt won’t take long. This way.” She waves her arm and limps along the footpath, deeper into the woods.
    I glance at Mary. The asthma attack is fading, otherwise I’d get the heck out of there, but… I can’t let an old woman freak me out. Someone famous somewhere—or some “when”—said you have to confront your fears and, well, this seems like a good opportunity. We’ll look at her shoppe, see how