Velvet Haven

of her more, hoping she was safe.
    Keir stepped forward and carefully helped Rowan up from the floor. The wraith would not be denied. He had demanded to come, despite the fact that Bran needed only Sayer. “Why are you packing up your store?”
    She colored. Not the pretty, flirty type of blush, but one that stemmed from embarrassment. “I have to close up shop.”
    “Why?”
    She appeared surprised, and perhaps alarmed, by the demand she heard in Keir’s voice. Sayer quickly stepped in and touched her arm, enchanting her so she would answer their questions willingly. That was their purpose here, to discover more about Rowan, who Bran believed was connected to Annwyn.
    “Why must you close the store?”
    “I’m having surgery in a few days and I don’t know how long I’ll be away.”
    “Have you no one to see to the running of it?”
    “No.”
    “No family?”
    Rowan shook her head. “Just Mairi, who already has a full-time job.”
    “What happened to your family?”
    “I . . . umm . . .” she stammered. Sayer stroked her arm and she calmed. “I’m an orphan. Dropped off at Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow when I was five. I never saw my mother after that, and I never knew my dad.”
    “We need information.”
    “What kind?” she asked as she brushed dust from her hands.
    Keir pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and passed it to Sayer, who showed it to Rowan.
    “What do you want to know?”
    “What those symbols mean to mort—”
    Bran cut Sayer off before he could say the word “mortals.” They did not need this woman’s curiosity piqued. Bran could still see her aura, although it had faded from the other night. The black was there, but so was the indigo weaving in and out. A seeker, he reminded himself. She would take it upon herself to learn more about them if they made her suspicious.
    Sayer tilted her chin with his fingertips, bringing her face back to his and looking into her eyes.
    “Have you seen symbols like this before, Rowan?”
    Bran watched as Rowan allowed herself to be pulled back into Sayer’s mesmerizing gaze.
    “Yes. A few days ago. Mairi brought a drawing, similar to this one. The same symbols were on it.”
    Bran visibly jumped at the mention of Mairi’s name. Sayer glared at him as his enchantment wavered once more. Then he smiled at Rowan and the woman went molten.
    “Did Mairi say how she came to know of these symbols?”
    “Yes. There was a murder of a young girl a few nights ago. She lived at Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow. Mairi counseled her there. When the police brought the girl into the hospital, she was dead and her body was carved up and decorated with these symbols. In her purse was Mairi’s business card.”
    Deeply entranced now, Rowan did not witness Bran’s tension, or hear his expletive. She was thoroughly hypnotized, her voice even and automatic. She didn’t move, didn’t blink. Sayer kept up the contact with her, skimming his fingertips along her cheek, brushing them against her throat. He didn’t need the physical connection with her any longer to keep her enthralled, but Bran suspected he needed it for an altogether different purpose.
    “Ask her what those symbols mean,” Bran hissed. “We need to ascertain if they mean the same in her world as in ours.”
    Bran paced the small store, taking in the statues of fairies and dragons. His fingers slid over a white crystal ball and an ornate chalice and athame. The craftsmanship was lovely and would have looked right at home on his own altar. He wondered where Rowan purchased the items for her shop. Some of the relics looked ancient, and some looked like they might have come from the Otherworld itself.
    He picked up a curved knife, inlaid with gems. Engraved on the blade were strange markings. They sort of reminded him of angelic script.
    “Where did she get this? Ask her, Sayer.”
    The Selkie asked, and without a blink she responded. “It was the only thing besides a pair of pajamas that was in the duffle bag I was left with. The nuns found it and put it away. When I moved out, they returned it to me. I have no idea who gave it to me, or what it is. But I think it’s pretty, so I keep it.”
    Bran knew what it was. It was an athame used in his people’s sacred Lanamnas ceremony, an eternal vow taken with a soul mate. He turned it over and noted a symbol much like the one Suriel carried on his neck. Beside the symbol was the Celtic Tree of Life, an icon used by the goddesses of