Lila watched from the couch as Michael brought his mother a large, shallow bowl, the herbs she had asked for tucked in the pocket of his Jimi Hendrix hoodie. The bowl was glazed black on the bottom and white on the sides, geometric designs decorating the outside in red. Its surface was perfectly smooth and glossy to create reflections and shine—all the better for provoking visions.

Tamara carefully placed the bowl on a small coffee table between her chair and the couch Lila was on. She took a few of the peppermint leaves and placed them on her tongue. As she chewed on the herb, she took the dried vervain and began crumbling it in her hands.

Michael once again disappeared into the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water that he handed to Tamara. She carefully tipped the glass, pouring the water into the bowl in a smooth stream that filled the bowl about halfway, the water swirling slightly as she put the cup down.

Looking over her shoulder, Lila found Ethan still lingering by the window. He was even a little transparent to her, marking how drained her energy was. The only thing keeping him visible was the energy he was siphoning away from the lights, something he hated doing. He always claimed that electrical energy left a taste of copper in his mouth.

Lila had once asked what the energy he took from her tasted like. Ethan had blushed as furiously as a ghost could and hadn't quite managed to give her an answer.

It startled her when he suddenly flickered out of view. She traced the path of his energy as it made its way toward the couch before settling on the cushion beside her. Michael returned to his spot on the floor and shivered.

"Sorry, Ethan," he murmured, shifting to the side so he wasn't sitting in Ethan's legs.

Ethan struggled to shimmer back into view, watching Tamara studiously when he finally managed it. His back was ramrod straight, his hands taut fists resting on his knees. Lila looked at the scrapes on the backs of his hands, the blackened patches left from gunpowder, the raw knuckles that would never heal.

The lights flickered and she glanced up to find his eyes trained on her. Lila offered a weak smile, but the mask was firmly back in place and showed no signs of cracking any time soon. She didn't know if he was mad at her or—worse—mad at himself.

"It's not your fault," she whispered. 

Ethan blinked and looked back toward Tamara. "I was the one who suggested it."

"I was the one who did it," she snapped back, temper suddenly flaring.

Jaw clenched, Ethan shot a stony look at her. "You wouldn't have if I hadn't pushed you. You did not want to do it. It was my idea in the first place."

"This isn't the eighteenth century anymore, Ethan." She returned his glare. "I don't do things just because you tell me I should."

Ethan opened his mouth, eyes suddenly glowing furiously. A sharp wind snapped around them, lifting Lila's hair and she crossed her arms, not allowing herself to be cowed by his rare show of temper. Ethan flickered violently, blood dripping from the wound on his cheek. Lila's eyes went wide and Ethan gasped. Then he pressed his lips into a severe line and turned his head, obviously struggling with himself. The wind died and Lila's ears popped as the pressure around them dropped.

"That is not what I meant," he ground out, waves of cold now radiating off of him, making Lila's breath frost in front of her.

"Enough, both of you." Tamara's voice snapped out at them like a whip, making Lila jump. The lights flared, then dimmed before Ethan disappeared. 

Lila's throat tightened suddenly and she bit hard into her lower lip. When she met Tamara's dark gaze and found that knowing look pinned on her, she drew her eyebrows together in a scowl. "Are you almost done?"

"Don't you take it out on me, baby girl," Tamara said. "You're the one made that mess, you're the one's gonna clean it up." Before Lila could come up with a reply, Tamara gestured toward the bowl sitting between them. "Everything's ready."

The powdered vervain had been sprinkled around the bowl in a looping pattern Lila didn't bother to attempt making out. She didn't really care. This wasn't something she needed to learn.

Both her and Michael watched as Tamara took a lighter and began burning the end of a white sage smudge stick. Its smoky-sweet scent filled the air, bluish tendrils floating through the air around them as Tamara waved the smudge stick first around herself, then the bowl, then fanned the smoke toward Lila.

"You remember enough to know what to do?" Tamara asked, her hand suspended over the bowl, index finger extended.

Lila clenched her teeth, turning her mind away from Ethan and toward the still water in the bowl. Fear clawed at her insides with icy fingers and she took a deep breath. The sooner this got started, the sooner it would be over. When Lila nodded, Tamara dipped her finger in the water, creating ripples that flickered in the low light.

Leaning forward, Lila gently placed the tips of her fingers on the edge of the bowl. She closed her eyes, focusing carefully on the images the visions had imprinted on her brain.

"Just hold the image in your mind," Tamara said softly, her voice low and honey-smooth as she began to make her way toward a trance. "Don't let it go too deep."

Lila nodded, the fingers of her free hand clenching as she tried to find the correct balance.

A low humming met her ears and she opened her eyes a crack. Tamara was leaning forward over the bowl, her hands hovering above the water. Her gaze was unfocused as she stared into the future. Or maybe it was the past. All Lila could make out beneath the water's surface was a blur of color and shadow.

"Not a star," Tamara suddenly murmured. "A badge."

Lila and Michael exchanged a perplexed look.

"A man with a lot to lose. And a lot to gain."

Lila's mind immediately turned to the only man she'd seen in her visions. His face had been bathed in the light of the star above him, but shadows clung to him as well. She thought of what the newest vision had shown her—the man in the church, his head bowed. His face had been hidden, but Lila had seen the despair in the slump of his shoulders.

Tamara gasped and Lila's attention snapped back to the scrying bowl. Wisps of dark steam were beginning to come off the surface. Tamara gripped both sides of the bowl, her wedding ring and the garnet one on her right index sparkling.

The light snagged at Lila's vision, making her stomach swoop.

"Oh!" Tamara looked up. "No, Lila!"

Lila's torso bowed forward, like a string had been tied to her breastbone and she'd been pulled inexorably toward the scrying bowl. Her vision went black, then blue and she felt like she was falling.

Lightning cracked, illuminating the peak of a mountain. Fires ate hungrily at buildings. People were screaming and running through the streets, followed by shambling corpses. A blood moon rose above a clutch of windblown pines.

A jerking sensation made Lila feel like she was flying through the air. She landed with a thump, a sharp pain lancing through her head. Breathing hard, she stared down at the dull, splintery wood beneath her. The sound of footsteps made her push herself upright, eyes searching the gloom wildly.

She didn't see anything at first. Then, in a swirl of black, a figure in a cloak of all things separated itself from the deeper shadows just a few feet away. Lila scrambled sideways, a sick feeling surging in her stomach. Whoever—or whatever—was beneath that cloak, Lila didn't want it anywhere near her.

The figure continued to approach, dust swirling up in clouds beneath its slithering cloak. Lila's breath came in rapid bursts as a pale hand reached out from beneath the cloak. It clawed at the air, seeming to reach for Lila.

All she could do was watch it approach, her entire body shaking with fear.

"Lila!" A voice screamed in her ear, rapidly followed by a stinging slap across the face.

Her lungs seized and her eyes flew open. Bile raced up her throat and she flipped onto her stomach before it spewed across Tamara's floor. A gentle hand gathered her hair back from her face as she vomited again. 

When her stomach stopped revolting, she pushed up to her hands and knees. Warm hands on her elbows helped her stand and then she found herself on the couch. Lila blinked, wondering why everything here looked so dim. She wiped at her eyes and realized that she was bleeding again.

"Just lay down, Lila," Michael's soft voice sounded beside her ear. His hand gripped her shoulders as he helped lower her down to the cushions.

The washcloth from earlier was draped over her eyes. Pressure was suddenly applied to the side of her head, making her grunt in pain.

"You cracked your head on the way toward the floor," Michael said. "You're bleedin' a little."

The stickiness coating the side of her face made her think she'd bled more than a little. After a few more moments of letting Michael fuss over her head, she tugged the washcloth away from her eyes and turned toward Tamara.

She must have knocked the bowl off the table when she'd fallen. Lila sat up, staring in horror at the two halves of the priceless African pottery. But even that wasn't the worst thing. A black, sludgy substance was soaking the floorboards, hissing and steaming. A scent like rotten meat filled Lila's nose, turning her already-sensitive stomach.

"Well," Tamara said, raking a hand through her black curls. She was breathing hard and pinching the bridge of her nose, which was bleeding. "I never thought I'd be mad about being right."

Lila snorted tiredly and flopped back into the cushions. "So what's the story?"

"Oh." Tamara let out a long breath. "Honey, I ain't seen anything this bad since Arthur was in Vietnam."

Michael looked away at the mention of his older brother, his expression darkening. Lila quelled her curiosity and turned her attention back to Tamara. She licked her lips, wanting to know but not wanting to all at the same time.

"Somebody out west is working some nasty dark magic," Tamara said, eyes wandering to the puddle of sludge inching toward her carpet.

Lila swallowed hard, shivering as her insides seemed to turn to ice. "Who?"

Tamara shook her head, earrings jingling. "They're too smart not to shield themselves, Lila. You're not sensing them so much as the remnant of their magic after a spell."

"Which..." Lila's heart sank. "That means its necromancy. Isn't it. That's why I'm the one sensing it. Why it's affecting me so much."

It wasn't really a question, but Tamara nodded anyway. Lila rubbed the blood away from her cheek. Her eyes swept around the room before she realized that what—who—she was searching for wasn't there.

"So how do I stop the visions?" she asked, fingers twisting together in her lap. "I can't... Tamara I don't want to live like this." Her voice broke and she squeezed her eyes shut, struggling against tears. "I don't want to be afraid of mirrors or...or of taking a bath, for Christ's sakes!"

Tamara sat on the couch next to her, pulling her into a hug. "I know, baby girl. I know." She sighed, rubbing Lila's arm. "I'm gonna spend some time on it tonight."

Lila closed her eyes, breathing Tamara's jasmine perfume deep into her lungs, trying to get the scent to calm her nerves. Another sigh heaved Tamara's chest, and she pressed a kiss to Lila's hair.

"I'm afraid to say it, honey, but..." Tamara leaned back, meeting Lila's gaze with a worried one of her own. "I'm thinkin' those visions of yours won't stop 'til the magic does."