Witchcraft

walked out of the room, closing the door firmly behind her. Kimberly lay eyeing the heated coals in the brazier.
    A strange scent was beginning to permeate the room. Kimberly inhaled cautiously, wondering what was happening. The fragrance was curiously tantalizing. An herbal smell that was both acrid and sweet. Perhaps it was some sort of ritual, she decided. Turning back on her side she continued her interrupted worm crawl across the bed. Kimberly had reached the far edge of the quilted surface and was studying the lamp, looking for a way to break the glass base without making too much noise when she began to question her actions. She inhaled deeply, absently enjoying the strange fragrance from the brazier and wondered if this project was worth all the effort she was exerting. It would be so much easier to close her eyes and rest for a few minutes. Perhaps after she'd had a small nap she would be able to think more clearly about the task of breaking the glass lamp base. In fact, Kimberly thought critically, why should she even want to break such a lovely piece of glass? It had something to do with a vague notion of using the sharp edges to cut her bonds but that seemed highly unrealistic now. The herbal scent was filling the room, drifting into the corners, hanging lightly over the bed. Kimberly took another, deeper breath and realized she hadn't felt so relaxed in ages. It had been a hard night, she decided. She needed to unwind. There had been that confrontation with her grandparents, the quarrel with Cavenaugh and then the long drive through the storm. The storm. Outside her bedroom window thunder rolled and lightning crackled over the ocean. The momentary brilliance jarred her. There was something she was supposed to be doing, some task that demanded attention. Glass. It had to do with glass. Once before she had used broken glass, Kimberly remembered dazedly. She had been defending herself. There had been a silver dagger and a man in robes.
    Glass. She needed a piece of broken glass. Ridiculous. Who had any use for broken glass? Gazing over the edge of the bed, Kimberly stared at the coals in the brazier. Such beautiful coals. And they gave off such a lovely fragrance. Too bad Cavenaugh wasn't here so that he could enjoy the aroma with her. But Cavenaugh was safely in San Francisco. Or was he safe? Her mind drifted around that thought. It wasn't like Cavenaugh to keep himself safe while she was in danger. He was a man who understood responsibility. And he had definite responsibilities toward her. He was her lover, Kimberly told herself, and he felt it was his job to protect her. So how could he be sitting safely in a hotel room right now? No, he must be coming after her. It was the only logical conclusion. Danger. Where was the danger? It was so difficult to keep her mind focused on it. Yet when a person was in peril surely her attention should be riveted on it? Somehow it all seemed like such an effort. Ever since she had begun enjoying the scent of the brazier smoke she had been having a hard time remembering that crazy Ariel Llewellyn was out there in the living room going through who-knew-what nutty rituals. It was even harder to remember that she, Kimberly, was going to play a starring role in the upcoming drama. Ariel. Ariel and smoke. Ariel knew a lot about herbs. There were those herbal tea concoctions she was always fixing for people. Certain herbs released their power when heated. Kimberly frowned, remembering the packet of powder Zorah had sprinkled on the brazier. Lightning sparked angrily outside the window, as though demanding Kimberly's attention. For a moment she obeyed, turning her head to gaze out into the darkness. Soon it would be dawn but the storm was raging so wildly it would be a long time before the sky grew light. Herbs sprinkled on the brazier coals.
    Cavenaugh making his way through the storm to get to her. Witches and daggers. A ripple of fear pulsed under Kimberly's unnatural relaxation.
    That smoke was doing this to her, she thought, twisting on the bed.
    Smoke was dangerous. Desperately she sought for a new focus of attention. Images of Cavenaugh flashed into her head. Cavenaugh making love to her, holding her, telling her he understood. Cavenaugh forcing her to meet her grandparents. Cavenaugh on the phone tonight, comprehending immediately that she was in real trouble. Cavenaugh , who could almost read her mind at times and who, at other times, infuriated her with his male