The Awakening

"What went on in your reading?"



"Ah, the reading."



She'd hit pay dirt. She could tell by the pulse ticking in the vein at his throat.



"Well," he said with a shrug. "Seems that Sara thinks I'm really bad for you."



"Sara doesn't know either of us."



"Yes, but she's a seer, right?"



He had ordered a draft beer. It arrived as he spoke offhandedly, lifting it to her.



Megan stirred her iced tea, staring down at it. Morwenna's reading had been disturbing as well. She didn't intend to tell Finn about it.



"Finn, I'm really sorry. I guess they can't help but be concerned."



"Sure. Your family." He managed another rueful smile.



"So… just how many people here are you related to?"



She sat back, laughing at the sound of his voice. He was managing to joke. "Well, there's Aunt Martha. I think I've told you about her."



"The old lady?"



"You'll love her. She's totally straightlaced. Thinks Morwenna is an idiot—or a commercial opportunist.



She couldn't come to the wedding because she was ill, remember I told you at the time? But I sent her a copy of the pictures so she'll feel as if she knows you already."



"But she's not really your aunt?"



"She was my grandmother's half cousin, or something like that. There's a blood tie, but not a strong one."



"But she means a lot to you, right?"



"Oh, yes, she's a sweetheart."



"We'll stop by quickly this afternoon, right before heading for the hotel and the hall to set up."



"We should do that by six."



"I don't think we need to start so early," Finn said. "This is Salem, Halloween week. They're not opening the doors until nine."



Megan studied her tea glass, a slow smile curling into her lips. He was really trying to make her happy.



"Fine. We'll set up by seven, then. How's that?"



"Seven is plenty of time. Thank God for electronic music, huh?"



"Um. Are you sure that's time enough to set up?"



"Sure. The hotel has their own guys on duty to help, should we need some manual labor. But I'm accustomed to carting stuff around. It's not a problem."



He was trying so hard. Megan was grateful for his effort—and yet worried that being here was such an effort for him. Actually, it had all been going well enough—until last night. Then this morning, he had been determined. And he was still determined, just different since they had left Morwenna's shop.



Thank God he hadn't asked about her Tarot reading, she thought uncomfortably. Morwenna had been seriously shaken by something she had seen. Deeply concerned. And—incredibly hesitantly—she had suggested that Megan shouldn't be with Finn. At least, not here, not now, with Halloween at the end of the week.



The scrod arrived. Finn bit into his and praised it lavishly. "You're right. The best scrod in the entire world."



She grinned ruefully. "You'd say that no matter what."



"It's good. Really good."



She thought she smiled, but she must have looked perplexed because he stared at her, fork in midair, and asked, "What's wrong?"



"With me? Nothing. Nothing at all. I just wish… well, I wish that you honestly liked this place."



He set his fork down, his eyes not wavering from hers. "Megan, I swear to you, I do like this place.



Salem is beautiful. People—tourists and locals—are as nice as can be. I think the whole witchcraft thing



—at least the way you've explained it to me—is great. A respect for nature. Spells that can only do good. And the pumpkins and decorations are charming. The respect for the tragedies of the past that is shown is tremendous."



"But… ?" she prompted.



"But?"



"There's just something more. As if you think that some kind of evil lingers on here."



"Absolutely not," he said firmly. "I don't believe that a place can be evil. I do believe that people can be evil. Living ones."



She frowned. "And you think that I know evil people here?"



"Of course not," he denied.



She didn't believe him. A little surge of resentment sprang forth in her soul. Morwenna and Joseph. He did think that her cousin and Joseph were evil.



Her scrod was suddenly tasteless. She smoothed the paper place mat beneath her plate. "The Wicca that Morwenna practices is based on ancient Celtic paganism. And the celebration of Halloween has nothing to do with evil. Originally, it marked the end of one year, or the death of that year, and the beginning of a new one. It was 'Samhain,' as the Celts called it. The people believed it was a time of the year when the spirits could visit their loved ones, walk the earth for one last time. They honored their dead; they didn't fear them. Especially in early Ireland, I know, the people believed that the worlds of the living and the dead were separated by something like a veil, and the veil became thin, and could disappear on Halloween night."



"Megan, I'm not related to any witches, but guess what? The modern-day practice of Wicca may be entirely harmless, but those pagan religions were often led by the Druids, and guess what else?



Historically, Druids did believe in blood sacrifices."



She sighed with exasperation. "And the Catholics created the Inquisition!"



He gritted his teeth—absolutely determined on patience. "True," he said evenly. "Look, I'm just trying to tell you that it's really kind of a two-pronged thing. I absolutely believe that there are people practicing witchcraft today who do honor the earth, believe in the power of goodness, and may be among the finest, most giving people in the entire world. But you've got to admit that—whether twisted or not!—people have used the practice of magic in other ways. Whether there really is such a thing as magic—white or black—I sure as hell don't know. But it gets back to the main point. The tenets of most religions are very good. They teach us respect, peace, and kindness. But any idiot out there today knows that any religion can be twisted to create terror. I meant what I said. I think Salem is wonderful, just as all the charming towns are that surround it. It's an incredible place to visit, and Halloween here is… enchanting. I swear to you that I'm not speaking about anyone in particular—especially not your relatives—when I make the simple statement that places are not evil, only people can be evil. Okay?"



Had she been that defensive? Still staring at him somewhat perplexed, she nodded.



Then, as she sat there, a flare of panic seized her.



They had to get out.



They had to get away.



If they didn't…



"Want dessert?"



"What?"



"Did you want dessert? Or should I get the check?"



"We never eat dessert."



"We can never afford dessert," he said, jiggling his eyebrows. "But we're making a fortune for very little effort in this incredibly charming place! So… ?"



"Let's split something."



"What?"



"Whatever you'd like."



"Nope, this is your neck of the woods. You choose dessert."



Oddly, she still felt defensive. As if she didn't want to be the cause of being here. "Un-huh. We're here because you got the gig. You choose dessert."



"All right, then. Something gooey and decadent Chocolate and gooey and decadent. Covered with whipped cream. Slathered in it. Richly. All over."



She laughed. He'd made every word entirely sensual.



"Did you want dessert? Or sex?"



He leaned back, shrugging. She was surprised that her words seemed to bring out something defensive in him. "Sex—with Fallon monitoring the halls? After last night? The old buzzard would probably be at the keyhole."



She sighed, folding her arms on the table, looking down at them. It was going to be a long time before she lived down last night.



She looked up at him again, forcing her jaw to unclench. "Great. Well, here's to a mini working vacation.



Sexless," she added, lifting her water glass toward him.



"Hey, don't be silly. There are all kinds of dark nooks and crannies around the town," he said lightly.



Except that his words weren't light. They were dark, with an underlying anger as well.



"I don't think I want dessert," she said abruptly, rising. "Ask for the check; I'll be right outside."



She noticed her own wrist as she spoke, since her hand rested on the table. She frowned, deeply dismayed to note that her bracelet was gone.



"I lost it!" she murmured.



"What?" Finn asked.



"The claddagh bracelet my dad gave me."



"You're sure you were wearing it?"



She nodded glumly. "It's Irish good luck, you know. And a gift from Dad. I don't know why—it seemed important to wear it today."



"All right, well, don't panic yet. We'll retrace our steps. Hopefully, somebody found it. Maybe it fell off at the museum, or at Morwenna's, or even in the park."



"If someone found it, it's probably gone," she said mournfully. "It was light and delicate, but eighteen-carat gold, and a really beautiful piece."



"Hey, there's hope. Don't give up yet." He motioned to the waitress and paid her, then caught Megan's hand and headed out with long strides.



She was startled to realize that she was almost glad about the bracelet The tension between them had dropped like a hot potato. He knew what the bracelet meant to her.



They returned first to the witch museum, but no one had found or turned in such an item. Finn pointed out that they needed to look around the park, since they had been playing with the dog. The catch might have come undone when she was playing with the Great Dane.



But though they tracked the park over and over again, there was no sign of the bracelet.