Spiral Path (Night Calls Series Book 3) by Katharine Eliska Kimbriel, Cat Kimbriel Page B

me, like water curling in a
stream. I was glad Margaret had warned me, or I would have been alarmed.
    It wasn’t actually stealing energy from me, but it
definitely thought I was interesting. The force of it vibrated in my ears,
louder than Margaret’s voice and then softer again, pulsing.
    We reached a wall, and Margaret headed to the right. I
started to follow, and then saw something off to the left. Lord and Lady, was
that some sort of magical painting of Marta’s house? Smoke rose from the
chimney, and there was even Marta off to one side gathering firewood from her
pile of split logs. It was like a waist-high pass-through, only I didn’t see more
of the maze through it, I saw Marta’s homestead!
    I walked right up to the image, which rose above me to end
several feet shy of the hedge’s height, and held my hand up to the pulsing,
swirling spirals of light. There was nothing threatening about it. Huh. I
anchored myself to the bedrock below, and then touched the bubble that expanded
toward me.
    “Miss Sorensson? Miss Sorensson! Wha . . . what
is the matter?” Margaret was coming closer, I could hear the “snick, snick” of
her pattens in the snow.
    The clear bubble expanded, as if I blew soapy water through
a wooden spool. I felt a tug from it—as if someone had reached out and grabbed
my wrist.
    Oh-oh.
    They are going to
carve “fool” on my gravestone , I thought as I tried to hold my ground. My feet slid on the packed snow as the
magic pulled me in. Don’t panic! I
grabbed hold of a sturdy yew branch. Perhaps Margaret cou—
    I thought I’d be pulled through the opening, but I staggered
slightly, as my feet found a path I had not seen.
    It was better to walk than be dragged, so I let go of the
yew branch. In the end I stood on a snowy path tamped down by human and animal
feet. I gazed as if seeing my cousin’s home for the first time.
    It was Marta’s
house! I turned around, but there was nothing behind me except the trail from
Marta’s home to the main road.
    Of course what I had just walked into was a major spell of
some sort. There was no chance of Marta not noticing, even if I could figure
out how to get back into the maze. As these thoughts whipped through my mind, Marta
looked up from where she was gathering firewood. She was so surprised she
dropped the entire armload back on the stack.
    I could not think of a single thing to say, except maybe
that there was this magic picture and I walked over to see it and . . . .
    It seemed I was not required to say anything; not yet.
    Marta set her hands on her hips, started shaking her head,
and then she burst out laughing. I’m not talking about a gentle titter of
amusement. No, this was a big laugh, joyous, full throated, enough laughter to
bring tears to your eyes and a stitch to your side.
    Maybe the punishment wouldn’t be too bad.
    I might even find out what I’d just done.

FOUR
    There didn’t seem to be any reason for me to hold my
ground, so I walked toward the woodpile. Marta almost had control of herself;
she was brushing a tear from her cheek. I could tell she was still on the edge
of laughter; her eyes were bright, her amusement dammed up but bubbling inside.
    “I told Esme you’d be through a door before the end of the
week,” she said. “Esme thought you would be too busy for that to happen.” Marta
gestured to the woodpile. “Make yourself useful.”
    I grabbed as much wood as I could balance and followed her
inside.
    “Do you think the Livingstons would mind if I took my
snowshoes back with me?” I said as I stacked the wood in the brick-lined
opening to one side of the fireplace. “Miss Rutledge showed me her shoe ‘pat-tens’,
but snowshoes would be better on the grounds.”
    Marta had her back to me; she made a sound suspiciously like
a snort. “Oh, why not? If you need them, they will be there. If not, they can
live at the bottom of your wardrobe.”
    Brushing stray pieces of bark off her gloves, Marta gave me
a