Water Witch by Amelia Bishop Page B

night?”
    “Would you have given yourself to that man?”
    Fuck. He’d been there. And he was jealous. “You and I haven’t made any promises, as far as I recall. In fact, we’ve never even ever kissed.” I folded my arms over my chest without thinking, and was thrilled when I realized what I’d done. I could totally handle myself in a vision!
    He studied me and smiled softly. “You are right, my witch. I was thinking the same thing, just before you came.” He took a deep breath. “I fear I am a distraction to you, at a time when you need to focus.”
    “What? Are you…breaking up with me?” I laughed at the absurdity of the situation.
    “No. I am removing myself from your world for a short time.”
    “How is that different? And why do you get to decide what I need?”
    “That is not my intention. I may have erred when I allowed you to see me. The timing may have been wrong. You returned home partially because of me, when it should have been a decision you felt necessary for yourself. You practiced your visions at my suggestion, when you should have been compelled to do so without my intervention.” He tucked his hair behind his ear, looking almost nervous. “I watched your coven meeting to see if you mentioned me to them, and I was both pleased and disappointed you did not. I want you to tell your coven about me out of joy, not worry. I want to be a part of your life, not a distraction to you.”
    I started to protest, but couldn’t find an argument. Was he a distraction? He was certainly a mystery.
    “I will know if you need me.” He blew a kiss to me, and I suddenly found myself standing a few feet away from him in the mossy forest. “Call me when you are ready.” He blew another kiss, and I snapped back into my body on the sand, opening my eyes to the sparkling bay before me.
    ***
    What a jerk. Not much better than Scott, when it came right down to it. Sure his intentions may not be selfish, but it was the same decision making without discussion. Fuck him. I stood and cleared my circle, irritated at the little dismissive kiss-blowing he’d done to push me back into my body. ‘Call me when you are ready,’ my ass. I wouldn’t be calling him any time soon.

 
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER NINE
     
    But damn, the next week I wanted to call him at least a dozen times. I realized then he was right, he had been influencing my actions. Not that I would give him the satisfaction of calling him to tell him, but to myself I had to admit it.
    I fell into a routine: meditating and Journeying in the mornings, followed by interpreting. I had purchased a small journal, similar to my grandfather’s, and used it to record my thoughts and progress. The afternoons usually meant work for me, a massage or two, three on a good day, and then home in time to help with dinner. I hung out with Jasper or Maxwell at night, or I’d attend the coven fires, though I never left with anyone. Not that I was being faithful to Salil or anything like that.
    I was managing my dream visions well. None came that I didn’t control, and most of my nights were peaceful. I still dreamed of Salil, though—erotic flashes and memories that I half-suspected he might be encouraging. But every morning I woke well rested, without clear memories of the night. It was possible they were just normal dreams.
    Mabon was coming soon, and in our coven it was celebrated more elaborately than most. Both my mother and Liliana felt a strong connection to the holiday, and since they pretty much ran things, that meant we had a big Mabon ritual. I offered to help, eager for the opportunity to reconnect with the coven and make up for my long absence.
    Since I was “social” as my mom put it, I was in charge of coordinating donations for the food baskets and working with the local charities where we’d be donating them. It was actually a lot of work, but it got me back into the community and I was able to chat with a few people I hadn’t seen in years. As a