“Have you done any work with crystals and visualization?” Sandra Sweddon asked Sinclair. “White light? Chakras?” He shook his head. “That’s okay, honey. We’ll work on it.”

“How do you feel about ink?” Mark Reston stretched out his arms to reveal a pair of large and intricate seals tattooed on his muscular forearms. “Sheila and I have a portfolio of sigils we designed ourselves. Some of them are for protection. You’re welcome to stop by the shop and see if any of them speak to you.”

“I’ll knit you a prayer shawl, dear,” Mrs. Meyers said in her kind voice. “There’s a blessing in every stitch.” She caught sight of Sinclair’s expression and chuckled. “Don’t worry, it’s more of a scarf than an actual shawl.”

Warren Rogers scratched his chin. “Sounds like you’ve got a bit of herb lore, then. You any good with plants?”

“Not bad,” Sinclair said. I wondered if that had anything to do with the elemental nature fairies’ fondness for him.

The landscaper gave him a shrewd look. “I could use a new assistant. Lost a couple of college kids to the fall semester, and I hear your tour’s only running on the weekends during the off season. You interested?”

“Point of clarification.” Casimir raised one finger before Sinclair could answer. “Are you talking about a job or an apprenticeship, Warren?”

He shrugged. “Depends on Mr. Palmer here. I could use a good worker either way. Don’t know that I’ve got a handle on this obeah business, but his studies sound close enough to my journey on the right-hand path. If he’s willing to dedicate himself to our craft, I’m willing to mentor him.”

Casimir turned to Sinclair. “Well? Are you?”

Sinclair frowned in thought. “What happens if I say no?”

“If you’re asking if we’ll withhold our assistance in the matter at hand, the answer’s no.” The Fabulous Casimir steepled his fingers. “We’ll do everything in our power to protect you. But to be perfectly honest, it will be more effective if you’re on your way to becoming an initiate. And if you’re asking if we’d like to have you, the answer is yes.”

Glancing around the room, Sinclair studied the members of the coven one by one—reading their auras, I assumed.

After a moment he nodded. “I’m in.”

Twenty-five

For another half hour, the coven discussed the specifics of implementing their various plans of occult protection. I listened and made mental notes on the individual members and their different areas of expertise, figuring it was all good input for my thus-far-hypothetical database.

Hey, I’d promised to keep confidentiality, but I hadn’t promised not to make a record of what I learned. It might be useful someday.