Page 39 of Herbs & Hex-breaking

I stopped rubbing my forehead. “Of course I did. Johnny was clear. He’s been carrying a rosary with him and—”

“That’s probably what kept him safe.”

“Agreed.”

“A gift from his grandma?” Dex asked.

No point in asking how he knew that. Postcog psychic and all.

“That’s what he told me,” I confirmed.

Dex nodded as he drove back home. “A Catholic grandmother working the rosary is an energy that should never be underestimated.”

“Truer words.” I chuckled despite everything. “I’m going to rest my eyes for a moment,” I said. “I’m getting a headache.”

“Not surprised,” Dex said. “Hospitals are brutal to be in for Witches and psychics. There’s so much pain and negativity there. It can be very energetically overwhelming.”

When Dex pulled up behind our building, we got out and he walked me up to my apartment. I wondered if he was going to ask to come in, but he didn’t. Instead, he pressed a kiss to my cheek and told me to go take something for my headache.

We parted ways, and I went straight to the bathroom medicine cabinet and took a few acetaminophen tablets. I stripped off my clothes, tossed them in the hamper, and pulled back the covers of my bed. With a curse I recalled my phone was still in my purse, so I went back to the kitchen, snagged it, set the alarm, and placed it on the charger on my nightstand.

With a sigh of relief I climbed into bed, pulled the covers over my head and was out in minutes.

***

Unfortunately, I did not sleep well. I’d been plagued by nightmares and the next morning, when I staggered out of bed, I didn’t go for a walk because it felt like a truck had run me over. I literally hurt everywhere. It made me wonder if I had somehow picked up or had taken on some of Hattie’s injuries...or maybe even her curse?

But I’d never shown any ability for psychic empathy to that degree before. I was probably just run down or energetically burned out from being around the suffering in the emergency department.

At least I sincerely hoped that’s all it was… Maybe it was the new moon phase. When the moon was dark in the skies it could affect anyone, especially a magickal practitioner. Odd dreams were common, as was low personal energy and even a need for introspection and solitude.

“There’s nothing wrong with me that a good breakfast won’t cure,” I told myself and trudged off to the kitchen to cook some eggs. I was placing my breakfast dishes in the sink when the first wave of dizziness hit. Grabbing for the counter to steady myself, I automatically reached for my pendant to draw strength from it.

Then I remembered that I’d given it to Hattie.

For a moment I panicked over the loss of my personal talisman. Then I caught myself and gave myself a stern lecture. “For goddess’ sake Kate. You’re a strong, practical Witch. There’s no need to freak out. Just put on a different magickal amulet.”

Squaring my shoulders, I walked over to my dresser, popped the top off my jewelry box, and selected a triple moon pendant. My namesake, Hekate, had many titles. One of which was Hekate Trevia. She was in fact a three-faced goddess and the triple moon symbol was sacred to her.

The pendant I’d chosen was silver and set with a round moonstone at the center. On one side of the moonstone was a silver waxing moon and there was a waning moon on the other. The chain was extra long, so I slipped it right over my head.

I headed for the bathroom and figured the water from the shower would wash away any negativity I may have picked up. After I dried off, I took a moment and lit some sandalwood incense sticks, placing them in a holder on my dresser, and let the aromatic smoke waft over and around me. Calling upon the element of air, I picked up the moonstone pendant from my chest and murmured a spontaneous enchantment for protection and strength.

“There,” I told myself. “A little cleansing and I’m good as new.”

However, getting ready seemed to take twice as long as usual that morning. I discovered that the headache was back and that my mood was turning sour. My period had been the week before, so it wasn’t PMS; but my nerves felt raw, and my inner monologue sounded like a petulant five-year-old.

The weather was cool, and I deliberately selected a bright red tunic sweater and tossed it over a pair of dark leggings. I added some low-heeled boots and pulled the triple moon pendant out to lay against the sweater. Checking my reflection in the full-length mirror on my closet door, I decided that the bright festive sweater was exactly what I needed to snap me out of my funk.

“Today will be a good day.” Walking across my apartment, I promptly tripped. Over thin air. I didn’t face plant, but I did rap my hip against a kitchen chair as I stumbled. “Ouch!” I rubbed my hip, wondering out loud, “What the hell?”

Checking the floor and confirming that there was nothing lying there to have caused me to trip, I gathered up my things and snapped the lid to the crockpot closed. Tucking it in the crook of my arm, I managed to shut and lock my apartment door. I adjusted my load and had hardly started down the exterior stairs before I felt a blow at my lower back. It propelled me forward and I stumbled, missing a few steps.

Luckily for me, I managed to make a wild grab and catch the metal railing. My ribs slammed against it hard, but I held on. The crockpot unfortunately went tumbling down and the glass lid and ceramic lining shattered on the pavement below. It sounded unnaturally loud, as I clung to the banister while my heart pounded and I gulped for air.

After a few breaths, I looked down to the base of the steps at the remains of the crockpot. “Holy shit!” I squeaked.

I was alone on the stairs, yet something had hit me hard enough to cause me to lose my footing. Thank the goddess I’d managed to catch the railing. A fall from the top of the stairs would have been serious, if not deadly.