Page 108 of Seas the Reckoning

“Thank you. I’m grateful that you protected me from my own hubris,” I say to the magic that weaves through everything.

The door to the greenhouse swishes open.

“Coven Leader?”

“Yes, Lacey?” I don’t have to look to recognize the voice of the forty-something witch with long straw hair and a key based upon water. I know all my witches.

“There are visitors here for you.”

“Show them in. Four people, is it? Let’s host them in the front sitting room with the large bay window that faces the beach. Please put out some tea and sandwiches. Cookies as well, I think.”

“Of course, Coven Leader.” Lacey’s voice relaxes at my response, no doubt realizing that I’ve already seen at least a portion of this visit.

In fact, I’ve been anticipating it since my granddaughter returned. I knew someone was coming, and the vision wasn’t hostile, so I’m not too worried.

Even better, I didn’t see any hint of connection to Leena, or Starla, or Carolina Beach. Whatever this is about, I think they’re here to ask that I use my key and not to seek out members of my coven or my other loved ones.

I heave myself off the chair, plucking my rabbit-topped cane from beside the doorframe on my way out of the greenhouse. My limbs are creaking, and I am under no illusion about the fact that I’m nearer to the end of my time than the beginning of it.

No matter. The coven will be in good hands. Shanell, for all her blustering, is proving to be an excellent replacement. She’ll take over fully in the new year.

My cane clacks on the tiles as I make my way to the room I’d mentioned to Lacey. When I arrive, I see the backs of four individuals, all facing the window and watching the waves wash up against the shore.

“It’s rather lovely, isn’t it?” one of the individuals says.

There are three women, and a man who is taller than the ladies. The woman who spoke has her hair wrapped in a bun. All have a magic weaving around them beyond that of a typical supernatural.

“I’ve always enjoyed it,” I say.

All four spin around.

One of the women smiles warmly at me.

“A gorgeous spot. You must enjoy the serenity of the beach. Although I suppose it’s also powerful.”

I nod.

“Precisely. Relaxing and wild, humbling and uplifting. The ocean is many things. It gives many things, provides many things, and can take many things. What can I provide to you?”

The man steps forward, offering his hand. He’s got dark hair with just a hint of curl and wave to it, along with green eyes. He could be anywhere in his thirties based on looks alone, but I’m not such a fool as to trust looks in supernaturals. He might be forty, four hundred, or four thousand years old.

In my younger years, I’d have been drawn in by his aristocratic features and sharp-cut suit. As it stands, I simply offer him my own hand.

Instead of shaking it, he bends down in a bow. Not kissing the back of my hand, but looking up at me with respect.

“Thank you for hosting us. I am Feral, and these lovely ladies are the Fates.”

“Ah, so you’re the Founder who assisted my granddaughter. You have my thanks.”

The genuine happiness at meeting the deity who assisted them helps me to hide my surprise at the other tidbit he mentioned. When people seek out a seer, they are not expecting her to be shocked. But I do have a reputation to maintain.

I compose myself.

“The Fates. Well, that is something. I should have prepared fancier fare,” I joke as a couple of my witches bring in the requested tea, sandwiches, and cookies.

One of the women, the one with the bun, licks her lips.

“Oh no, no, this looks scrumptious. My fellow Fates and I are not picky.”