“Oh, absolutely.” And she said it with no small sense of pride. “I ran that end of my mother’s operation. I like to organize.”

“And create. You create with your cooking.”

She dimpled again, with sheer pleasure. “That’s a nice thing to say.”

“It’s a gift, like your power is a gift.” Her vital signs were steady and stable. He checked the readout on the EKG, made some quick notes on his laptop.

“I wonder when you knew you were gifted. It seems to me Mia was born knowing.”

“She was. We’ve talked about it.”

“And Ripley.”

“She doesn’t talk about it as much, but I think it was almost the same. A knowing, always.”

And a burden? he wondered. Always? “For you?”

“A discovery, and a learning process. I had dreams when I was a child, of this place, of people I’d yet to meet. But I never thought of them as—I don’t know—memories or foretelling. Then, after Evan . . .”

Her hands tensed, deliberately relaxed again. “I forgot them, or blocked them. When I left, my only clear thought was to run, to get away. But the dreams started coming back.”

“Did they frighten you?”

“No, not at all. They were a comfort at first, then a kind of need. One day I saw a painting—the lighthouse, the cliffs, Mia’s home—and I needed to be there. It was a . . . a destination. Do you know what it’s like to find out where it is you finally need to be?”

He thought of the house near the cove. “Yes. I do exactly.”

“Then you know it’s not just a relief, but a thrill. I drove onto the ferry that day in June, and when I caught my first glimpse of the Sisters, I thought—there. Finally. I could belong there.”

“You recognized it.”

“Part of me did. Another part just yearned. Then I met Mia, and everything began.”

He continued to monitor her, one part of his brain ruthlessly calculating changes, peaks, dips. “Would you say she tutored you?”

“Yes, though she would say she just reminded me.” Nell turned her head so she could look at Mac. How cool he looks, she realized. Cool and controlled. And yet his voice was warm, friendly. “The first time she helped me try magic, I stirred the air.”

“How did it feel?”

“Amazing, exciting. And, somehow, familiar.”

“Could you do it now?”

“Now?”

“If you’re comfortable with it. Nothing major. I don’t want you to spin your furniture around. A little ripple for my readings.”

“You’re such an interesting man, Mac.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just a little ripple for your readings,” she said with a chuckle. “No wonder Ripley’s crazy about you.”

“What?”

“Here, then. A little ripple in the air, just a stir from here to there. A quiet breeze, this man to please.”

Even before it began, the readings popped. Like a gathering, Mac thought, noting the rise of heart rate, the fluctuation in brain-wave patterns.

Then they jumped again as the air, well, rippled.

“Fabulous! Look at this pattern! I knew it. It’s not just an increase in brain activity. It’s like an expansion, almost fully right brain. Creativity, imagination. Really neat.”

Nell chuckled again, and stilled the air. Not so cool now, Dr. Booke. “Is it what you were looking for?”

“It goes a long way toward confirming some of my theories. Could you do something else? Something more complicated. Not that what you just did was small potatoes,” he added quickly. “Something that requires more effort.”

“More of a punch?”

“There you go.”

“Let me think.” Her lips bowed up as she considered. Because she wanted him to be surprised, she did the chant in her head, a call to the senses that was both sweet and stunning. This time the gathering came faster, and bigger. The needle on the EKG graph whipped in wide, rapid sweeps. Suddenly, the room was alive with music—harps, pipes, flutes. It was drenched in a rainbow of colors and tender with the scent of spring.

He could barely keep up with the changes. Desperate to be certain that he had it all on record, he checked his camera, his monitors, nearly danced around the EKG.

“You like it?” Nell asked playfully.

“It’s f**king great! Sorry, beg your pardon. Can you just keep it going another minute?” he asked as he checked his energy sensor. “It’s really pretty, by the way.”

“I’m eager for spring.”

“Me, too, after the last two days. Respiration’s up, but not that much. Pulse strong, steady. Physical exertion appears to be minimal. Hmm, heart rate’s actually back at rest. Did the use of power calm her, or the result?”

“The result,” Nell answered.

He blinked and focused on her again. “What?”

“You were talking to yourself, but I think I know the answer.” She laughed lightly when she saw Diego prance into the room to bat playfully at her rainbows. “It’s a soothing spell. It relaxes me.”

“Yeah?” Interested, he sat down on the floor beside her while harp strings wept. “Would you say your physical reactions reflect the nature of the spell or charm?”

“Exactly.”

“So, for example, the other night, in the clearing, it was more powerful, maybe edgier, because of what you were doing, and the fact that the three of you were together.”

“It’s always stronger with the three of us. I feel like I could move mountains. Afterward, I stay energized for hours.”

He remembered just how Ripley had channeled her energy and cleared his throat. “Okay. How are you able to sustain this spell while I’m distracting you with conversation?”

She looked completely blank for a moment. “I never thought about it. That was clever of you. I didn’t know you were distracting me. Let me think . . . It’s just there?” she suggested. “No, that’s not completely accurate. It’s more like the way you’re able to do two different things at one time.”

“Like patting your head and rubbing your stomach.”

“No,” she responded. “More like . . . cooking a roast and setting the table. You can keep your mind on the one so you don’t burn it and still manage the other easily enough.”