Page 7 of Herbs & Hex-breaking

“I’m sorry, Hattie,” I said and reached out to place my hand on her shoulder in support. It was meant to be a casual gesture and yet, the physical contact almost took me down to my knees.

Immediately, I felt it.

While there wasn’t a curse on the gown, there had been a hex laid against the bride. A rather nasty one too.

Fighting against the need to snatch my hand away, I tightened my grip and instead pushed past it. The muscles in my chest tightened painfully, even as I allowed my eyes to go unfocused to see what I could detect with my third eye.

As soon as I did, I spotted the magick that had been cast against Hattie. Black, shadowy and draped all over her like a nasty spider-webby looking shawl. The spell was tangled all around her and she was firmly ensnared. Like a butterfly caught in a web.

It was everything I had not to shudder in reaction.

Immediately I sent Hattie protection. Normally I would have asked permission first, but she’d already come to me requesting help, so I’d deal with the karma—if there was any.

“Your fingers are getting very warm, Kate,” Hattie said.

Stepping a bit closer, I put my free hand on her other shoulder. “Take a deep breath in with me, Hattie,” I directed. “Breathe in light and protection...a deep breath. Now hold it. And slowly release your breath, blowing away any negativity that you are carrying.”

I talked her through the simple energy work, and after a couple of minutes I loosened my grip and lifted my hands from her shoulders.

“Everything okay over here?” Dex asked, popping his head in from the connecting door.

“Dex?” I motioned to him. “I could use your help, if you have a moment.”

He walked directly to me. “I could feel your magick from all the way across the building, Kate,” he said softly, so Taylor would not overhear him.

“Dex is a very talented psychic,” I told Hattie as she glanced from me to him. “I’d like his opinion on this, if you don’t mind.”

Hattie nodded. “Okay.”

“This is my friend, Hattie Broussard,” I introduced her to him.

“Sure.” Dex smiled and nodded. “I’ve seen you in here before. You deliver the houseplants.”

“Correct,” I said. “But today, Hattie brought her bridal gown in to me to find out whether or not it’s been cursed.”

Dex’s eyes sharpened at my words.

“Would you mind reading it,” I continued, “and giving me your opinion?”

Dex shifted his gaze to where the gown hung behind us. “Sure,” he said. Reaching past us, he gently rested his fingertips on the lace sleeve of the gown.

As we watched, Dex’s muscles stiffened and the pattern of his breathing changed. He was silent for a good two minutes before he lifted his fingers away from the material.

Nervously, Hattie reached for my hand, and I held it as we waited.

“Interesting,” he said. “I mostly picked up on the happy memories of Hattie’s grandmother, and her mother, who have both worn it previously.”

“That’s right. They did,” Hattie said, her voice full of wonder.

“Did you pick up on anything else?” I asked him.

Dex stepped back from us. “The seamstress who altered it most recently. Her name was Sue Ann.”

Hattie laughed a little. “Wow! How did you know that?”

“I’m a postcog psychic,” Dex explained gently. “I typically don’t see the future. Instead, I see the past—what is known as retrocognition.”

“Which makes him damn good at psychometry—the reading of objects,” I explained.