I’m sure my face is beat red, in part from the exertion of our finger wrestling and in part from my not being able to move an 88-year-old lady’s little finger a millimeter. My whole hand shook like crazy. But did hers? Not a bit. Embarrassing to say the least. 

“Good,” Anna says, nodding her approval when we finally call the truce.

“Good?” I nearly cry out, massaging my poor finger. “I didn’t move you a bit.”

“But you held your own,” she said, seeming to think this is really worthy, “and you were not writing in pain, either.”

“That was probably more due to you than me,” I argue with a pout.

Anna smiles wryly. “Probably.”

“So what did that tell you? Could you feel Magic in me yet?”

“Oh yes, yes indeed,” she says proudly. “You’re a natural. It won’t be long before…” She trails off, noticing a butterfly has landed on her medicine bag. Read the rest of this entry

All I want to do is sleep, I think as Scottie stretches two paws across my shoulder and pummels me gently.

“It’s my day off,” I say aloud to her, gently pushing her away as I groan and pull the sheet up over my head. Actually, it’s Monday, Bea’s official day off…finally.

What this means is that this is the first morning I’ve slept in since a week ago last Sunday— the day I met Michael. Bea doesn’t seem to be interested in sticking to the limited schedule she set with Sally, at least since the incident with the fire and Magic and all that. So now she’s pretty much been here from 7 in the morning to 8 at night every single solitary day. I thought she’d take the weekend off, at least, but no. “Too much magic to learn,” she said when I suggested she might be working too hard. Read the rest of this entry