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“You remember your mother’s vision of the Washing Woman she had a few months ago?”
Oh crap, I thought. My mother had visions of the Washing Woman and they always preceded a family death. Oddly, the visions came more from my father’s side of the family, however both of their families lived in the same area in Scotland, and both families belonged to the same clan. Add to that, the spirits chose their emissaries. Those of us born to magic had no say in the matter.
I caught my breath. “Yes? Did someone…”
“Your cousin Owen, child. He died sometime last night.” Grams let out a soft sigh. “Your mother’s beside herself.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Owen? But he was close to my age! What happened?” But I already knew the answer to my question.
Owen had been my friend as well as my cousin. We had bonded during childhood, although I had always found him a little overbearing. He was always trying to warn me away from doing things he thought were dangerous. Except, Owen never followed his own advice.
And Owen had a problem nobody seemed to be able to help. Since his early teens, he had sought relief from his anxiety in drugs, and not the ones the doctors offered. At first, pot had taken the edge off his fears, but as his paranoia began to grow, he turned to stronger means in order to allay his anxiety. Owen had been an addict for years, but he had always managed to keep his addiction under the radar. Until now.
After a moment, Grams said, “He overdosed. Your aunt found him in his bed this morning. He died around one AM, the medics think.”
I didn’t know what to what to say. Owen had been an addict, yes, but he had always seemed cautious in how much he took. “Was it deliberate?”
I could almost hear Grams shrug. “I don’t know. They’re doing an autopsy. I don’t know if we’ll ever find out, though. My suspicions are that he took a few pills, forgot he had taken them, then took more.”
“How’s Ciara taking it?” My aunt had always been the practical one, and from what I knew, had never had any problems with Owen, except for the drugs. He never tore up the house, or stole from her, or anything the stereotypical junkie did. She had tried to get him into rehab several times but nothing ever seemed to take.
“Better than your mother. Ciara’s deep in grief, of course, but she’s more stoic than Catharine. I think she expected this to happen someday. She seems so resigned.”
While she didn’t say it, I knew that Grams was thinking that Ciara would have made a more suitable MacPherson than my mother Catharine. My mother wasn’t a bad person, and Grams liked her well enough, but Catharine had always been more histrionic than my father’s stoic family.
“That doesn’t surprise me. Mom’s not leeching off of Ciara’s strength, is she? Ciara shouldn’t have to comfort my mother when it’s her son who’s dead.” If my mother was making Owen’s death all about her, I’d call her and chew her out.
Grams cleared her throat. “Well, you know how she is. But I think I can restrain her. I just thought you might want to know. The wake will be on Saturday. You are expected to attend. It begins at one PM and will last until late. Your aunt is sitting watch with the body during the wake, and we’ll open the windows so Owen won’t be trapped. The wake’s being held at your mother’s house, since Ciara’s is so small. We’ve covered the mirrors in both houses, so that Owen won’t be sucked into a portal. Ciara asked if you would ring the bell to open the wake.”
“I can do that,” I said.
Ringing the bell was a funeral tradition in our clan. To officially open the wake, the bell-ringer would circle the casket, which rested in the living room until the wake was over, ringing a loud bell. This not only cleansed the energy, but announced to the deceased that they were being mourned and celebrated, and cleared the path for them to move on.
“What about the cord cutting ceremony, or is it too early?” Death always involved a cord cutting ceremony in my family, but it could take up to a year or more before it was scheduled, depending on the grief of the family members involved.
“That will take awhile. Your aunt needs to know for sure how Owen died, and then she’ll have to process it. The curious thing is, the man was well-liked. He was good-hearted, overall.” After a silent pause, she added, “Such a waste of life. I hope he’ll do better in the next one.”
I assured her I’d join them for the wake, then said goodbye and stowed my phone in my purse. As I headed inside, my thoughts were ping-ponging between Faron and Owen, with both situations weighing heavy on my heart.
* * *
“Wake up, come on, wakey-wakey!”
The voice was familiar, as were the puffs of cat food breath. I opened one eye to see Fancypants staring down at me. He was inches away from my face and staring up my nostrils with wide-eyes. When he first started doing that, I had knocked him halfway across the room—not on purpose, but out of reflex. But he kept returning, despite my warnings, and I had gradually grown used to his concierge efforts.
“What time is it?”
“Seven-thirty.” As Fancypants reached out and poked my nose, a soft purp sounded to my right. Silver and Gem had jumped on the bed, deciding to get in on the action. The silver tabby and the plush calico had become best buddies, and they constantly amused themselves trying to capture Fancypants. He let them near enough to touch him with their outstretched paw, then he spiraled up, away from them, and they’d make a leap for him. Once, Silver managed to clip one of the dragonette’s wings, and that was the last time Fancypants let his guard down. But he still played with them, just a little more cautiously.
Gem scrambled up on my pillow and licked my nose. I laughed, wrinkling it as she pawed me lightly, then flopped over on her side and started to purr. Silver decided that Fancypants was garnering too much attention and headbutted him.
“All right, all right. Between the three of you, I’ll never get any sleep.” I sat up, yawning, as they scrambled to avoid getting covered by my quilt as I pushed it back and stretched. I brought my knees up beneath my nightgown and wrapped my arms around them.
“Breakfast?” Fancypants asked.
“Yeah, breakfast. Tell them I’ll get to it in a moment. I’m just thinking.”
Fancypants turned to the cats as I ran over my schedule. I’d need to clear my schedule on Saturday for the wake. I had one dress that might work, but I really didn’t want to wear it If I had time, I’d go shopping. I wanted to show Owen proper respect.
