Deadly Sin (Cassandra Farbanks) by Sonnet O'Dell Page B

other hand over the words. This process always fascinated me because it allowed her to read something that wasn’t Braille.
    “Hmm indeed, you and this sighted creature seem to have certainly the same taste in accessories.” In the picture, you could just make out around the bird’s neck was my silver locket. I groaned and put my head against the counter. She patted my head and recoiled.
    “Your hair is wet?”
    “Yes. I just woke up, on my bedroom floor, naked. I had to shower, dress and hurry because I should have been here hours ago.” I rolled my eyes up to see if she was annoyed with me, but she was smiling.
    “I think we shall call these, mitigating circumstances. How about a nice cup of tea?”
    “That’s your answer for everything,” I whined, pulling my head up slowly and scanning the store. “Where’s Trinket?” I asked, coming out of my funk momentarily.
    “She arrived for her shift a little worried. She tried calling you in the night, but you hadn’t answered. I sent her off on some errands for an hour or so to take her mind off it. I will be glad to tell her when she returns that you are safe and sound. Come sit down and we can talk in a much calmer and reasonable manner.” She led the way like some majestic queen while I followed, feeling like a half drowned street urchin. She led me up to her perch, a high back Victorian reading chair with a small table next to it and another chair across, I assumed for me. Two cups were already set out and the tea pot radiated warmth.
    “I just made a pot,” she said smiling, pouring first my cup and then hers. A golden green liquid flowed out. One she’d brewed for me before and was happy to admit didn’t taste so bad. Truth took her seat and sipped her tea, waiting until my breathing got back to normal.
    “So was last night your first shape shift?”
    “Yes. No. I don’t know. I don’t remember shifting and there was no moon.”
    “Shape shifting with the moon is a characteristic of genetic lycanthropy and you are not a lycanthrope.”
    “I’m not sure I understand.”
    “Well, from what little you’ve told me and the rumors circulating…”
    “More rumors?” I groaned. The supernatural community really loved their gossip. Like old women in their curlers under driers at the beauty salon, they talked nonstop, about everybody else’s business.
    “There is something more than magic about you. It cannot really be explained, but there are creatures, even some very powerful witches that can change their shape. No moon required.”
    “But I didn’t mean to do it. I just woke up and saw the paper and put two and two together.” Truth considered this for a minute and put her cup down on the table. She turned her startling pearl drop eyes on me.
    “What did you dream of last night?”
    “Flying. I’ve had the same dream several nights before. About flying over the city.”
    “And what feelings did you have before that?”
    I thought about it. What had I been feeling last night? Scared and perhaps more than a little trapped.
    “Trapped, I’ve been feeling trapped.”
    “So your unconscious self found a way to set you free if only for a couple of hours a night.” She looked at me and then at my tea. I picked it up and took a long sip just to please my host. I did, however, feel remarkably better for the tea. I wondered if she put a little something extra in it.
    “Beings of great power must be aware of both their conscious and unconscious desires, or else the magic will act for them. It is your responsibility to monitor yourself.” I grumbled.
    “Thanks for the ‘great powers, great responsibility’ speech Uncle Ben. And if you know your unconscious desires, doesn’t that kind of automatically make them conscious desires.” She grabbed her cane from next to her chair and whacked me in the leg with it. I nearly dropped the cup.
    “Ouch! What the hell?”
    “Do not be flippant with me because you do not like that you must add another