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Ben came in with his arm protectively round a small woman. The first thing I noticed was that she was purple – bright, lurid purple. Pollyanna was a seer.
Greg was far more used to such things than me, so while I was still blinking stupidly at her he touched his hand to his heart and gave a slight bow. ‘My honour to meet you, Pollyanna,’ he greeted her. To Mum and Dad, he must have seemed a tad formal if not downright eccentric, but I knew that a bow was the polite way to greet a seer. Handshakes were an absolute no-no in case they saw some of your future that you didn’t want them to know about.
Recovering my aplomb, I gave a little bow too. ‘My honour to meet you.’
‘Gosh,’ Mum tittered. ‘They do hold you to fancy manners up at that mansion, don’t they? Come in, Pollyanna, and take a seat. We’ve all heard so much about you.’ Dad drew back a chair for her and Mum got her a warm plate from the oven on which she started to pile food. ‘There you go, Pollyanna dear.’
‘Thank you all very much.’ Pollyanna turned her emerald eyes towards me then hesitated as she looked at my parents. ‘My honour to meet you,’ she said and then, in the barest whisper, she added, ‘Queen Lucy.’
Oh boy. Queen Lucy was right out of Narnia. A slightly hysterical feeling bubbled up inside me but I shoved it deep down. Life was weird now I had magic but it was definitely never boring. I gave a bland smile. ‘And what is it you do, Pollyanna?’
The beautiful brunette beamed at me. ‘I’m a life coach. I help guide people to their best possible future.’
I bet she did.
‘She can see auras,’ Ben stated, arms folded pugnaciously as he dared me to mock him or to say it wasn’t true.
Before I’d nearly died, I probably would have done exactly that, but now I knew that magic was real and Pollyanna was a seer so I nodded politely. ‘That must be very helpful.’
Ben gaped at me. He was a lawyer – facts and figures were his God. I realised then that he didn’t believe Pollyanna could read auras, but he was willing to roll with it. ‘She runs her own business,’ he said next. ‘She’s really doing very well.’
‘That’s great. I always love to see a boss-bitch get ahead. Congratulations,’ I offered.
‘And to you for all your recent changes,’ she shot back. ‘Ben said you used to be an accountant but you had a health scare and changed your path?’
‘That’s right. I realised there was more to life than billable hours.’
Ben snorted; he lived for his billable hours. He charged his clients by six-minute increments, ten units an hour. Maybe one day he’d learn life was more than what you had in your bank account. Then again, it was easy for me to say that when my pack’s coffers were overflowing. Money didn’t buy happiness but it could buy a shit tonne of books and ice cream, and that was almost the same thing.
We ate and chatted companionably about the weather, the food and travel plans. We touched briefly on Pollyanna’s animal preferences. ‘I’m more of a dog girl.’ Her eyes were laughing as she looked at me.
Rightly so, Esme murmured. Canines are superior to felines in every single way.
They don’t have nine lives, I told her soberly, thinking of Larsden and Ramsay.
Nor will the cats if they get too close to me, she retorted, making me snicker a little.
As Ben helped Mum and Dad clear the dinner dishes, Pollyanna turned to me and whispered urgently, ‘You need to start carrying a healing potion – the final defence potion. Have you heard of it?’
I blinked. ‘Isn’t it a potion for griffins?’
‘Yes, but it works on other species, although to a lesser degree. But trust me, you need to get some. Now.’
I turned to Greg. ‘See what you can do. Hit up Bastion, maybe?’
‘He’s already used his. I know one or two other griffins so I’ll ask around, but it’ll cost an arm and a leg,’ he warned me.
I looked into Pollyanna’s eyes and read the very real fear there. ‘Then give them an arm and a leg,’ I said firmly.
Pollyanna’s shoulders slumped as the tension drained out of her. ‘Thank you for listening to me, Your Majesty.’
I winced. ‘Lucy, please. Especially around my family.’
‘Of course – Lucy.’ She took a sip from her cup as my dad walked in proudly carrying a huge, multi-tiered chocolate cake.
‘Wow!’ I exclaimed. ‘That looks phenomenal. You’ve really upped your cake game.’
‘Thank you, Luce.’ He pressed a kiss to my hair as he walked past. ‘I’ve been practising this one a lot. It’s dark chocolate with a hint of chilli and home-made raspberry jam.’
