She typed out another text, read through it. Sent it. I saw a doctor today in a clinic in LA. I told her I was on vacation and just discovered I was pregnant. She took a blood test and will call me, but she said that’s most likely a formality since pregnancy kits are very accurate these days. Everything looks good. I got prenatal vitamins.

That is really good news. Thank you for telling me. She could almost hear the words spoken in that quiet, husky way he had when his voice gentled. And you’re safely in for the night?

Should that be any of his business? She was wearing herself out by overthinking everything. Yes.

Excellent. Get a good rest. Where are you headed in the morning?

There was the boundary she was looking for. She knew it as soon as she saw it. She might trust him to do everything he could to keep her and the baby safe, but as he had pointed out once already, you couldn’t divulge what you didn’t know.

I’m going to enjoy the coast. Good night, Josiah.

Alexei.

Her phone was dark and blank for a long moment. He was doing the same thing she was, thinking things through, deciding whether or not things were okay. This was a strange new reality for both of them.

Good night, Molly.

*     *     *

Over the next several days, they fell back into their habit of texting at the end of the day. At first she was afraid he might want to talk, and she wasn’t ready to go that far. But he didn’t suggest it. Gradually she grew to look forward to their nightly exchanges.

He didn’t share details about his job, and she didn’t ask.

She didn’t share details about where she was going. And he didn’t ask again.

The clinic called with the results of the blood test, but by that point it was just a formality. She was, indeed, pregnant.

Meanwhile, the signs pulled her north. Now that her Power had woken, it pressed her forward with barely understood impulses and urges.

The inside of her ears itched. The moon disrupted her sleep, and an ocean of magic filled her body. She could hear the tide washing underneath her skin. It spilled out of her eyes, nose, and mouth and dripped invisible ectoplasm from the palms of her hands.

She went to extremes to avoid accidentally brushing against anybody. She couldn’t settle to meditate. She felt unpredictable, undomesticated like a feral cat, and she didn’t know what she was capable of or what she might do. If she didn’t find her dream teacher soon, she would sell the Subaru and catch the first flight she could to Louisville, the seat of the witches demesne.