“I didn’t know you knew how to knap stone,” I said, watching Margie wrestle a very heavy-looking bag. She’d refused to let me help her carry it inside, insisting she wasn’t so old and decrepit that she couldn’t carry her own bag., then struggled to not tip over when she swung it onto her back. I stopped her from going down, bag and all, but it was a closer thing that she was willing to admit. But, you don’t help a witch who has her mind made up without running the risk of getting toad. The bag thumped to the floor beside her chair. She slid carefully off her seat and down to the floor, settling on a cushion she’d placed there. Then she unzipped the bag, pulled out a cloth, which she spread on the ground in front of her, and began unloading smooth stones. She unfolded a piece of padded leather and placed that on her lap, then picked up one of the river stones, holding it up to inspect it closely. Nodding to herself that this was the one, she picked up her hammer stone and began striking one against the other. The obsidian fractured perfectly, creating blanks for her to work with, its black oily surface shiny and smooth. The cats were already chasing little pieces of chipped stone around on the floor. Kitten watched for a moment before chuffing and going back to sleep.

  “I don’t do it very often anymore,” she said, making very precise strikes of the two rocks, “but I think it’s time to start making dream catchers again and I don’t like the arrowheads they sell at the craft stores. They’re all full of random energies and impressions and take too long to clear. These stones came from the creek behind my house and I’ve had my eye on them for a while now, so I thought this might be a good time to make something of them.” I watched her work for a few minutes, deftly striking her stones against each other, using pieces of bone to do fine shaping, taking her time and looking at the grain of the stone before striking again.. In a surprisingly short amount of time, she had a pile of equal-sized stone chips waiting to be shaped.

  “Thank you for staying,” I said at last. Margie looked up from her work and smiled at me.

  “This is what family does,” she said simply. Her voice lilted a little strangely, but she was watching her hands work the rock chips swiftly and efficiently. “I know you’re new to our group, but you were supposed to be here. All of the things that happened had to happen to bring you here. I know there was a lot of pain and hardship, but the Great Mother had to take you down that path. And now you are here and you are ours to love and care for. You would do the same for me, I dare say, and I haven’t had half the life you have.” We sat in silence for a few moments, hers filled with work and concentration, mine with dumbfoundedness.

  “What?” I asked, my voice hoarse suddenly. Margie looked up sharply.

  “What?” she asked, looking genuinely startled.

  “What did you mean about hardships? What do you know about that?” Until recently, Margie and I hadn’t been that close and I couldn’t believe for a moment that Cassie or Mac had told her about my past. She couldn’t possibly know what she was talking about.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, setting her rocks on the floor next to her, wrapped in the leather lap blanket.

  “You just said you know about my past and I want to know what you think you know.” I stared at her, my body tense enough to wake the dog that was sleeping in my lap. She looked around, yawning, and curled up at the far end of the couch. Apparently my third panic attack of the evening didn’t warrant any concern. I watched Margie’s face flicker with confusion and then settle into a resigned smile.

  “My sister Gloria died when I was five,” she said, “and honestly, I thought that would get her to shut up, but it didn’t. Now she likes to play mystic fortune teller and talk through me. Sorry about that. I know she’s upsetting if you’re not used to her.”

  “Your sister?” I asked, not quite believing her. But she nodded and arched her back, popping it back into alignment.

  “We were twins,” she explained, saying it as if it should be obvious. “Now, normally a child would stay the same age, but since I was here and growing up and living, she was, too. When my girls were growing up, Gloria and I had to have a little talk about her sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong. I don’t know how many afternoons ended with my babies crying because I’d said something harsh to them and I had no idea what they were talking about. I’d be baking cookies or doing laundry or painting and suddenly I’d have three screaming girls on my hands.” She chuckled and rolled her eyes a bit. “She thinks just because she’s dead she can say whatever’s on her mind. And she likes to pretend to know more than she actually does. If you have secrets, chances are they’re safe. Gloria just likes to stir the pot when she gets bored.” I tilted my head to the side and squinted at her, not quite believing what Margie was telling me.

  “You’re haunted?” I asked at last, making her laugh.

  “I suppose I am,” she replied. She picked up her rocks and started working with them again. “She’s been quiet around other people for a few years now so I didn’t think it would be an issue. Leave it to Gloria to add that extra touch of the macabre to an already stressful day. I’m sorry about her. Believe me, she’ll be getting an earful from our grandmother for that little stunt.”

  “Your grandmother? Wait, no, I’m too tired. I’m going to bed. If you want to tell me about it tomorrow, you can tell me then, but today has been long enough. It’s time to sleep.” I stood up, still wrapped in my blanket, and went to the stairs.

  “The guest room is to the left,” I told her, one hand on the railing. “Soaps and towels are in the closet behind the door. Let me know if you can’t find anything.”

  “I’ll be fine, dear. Get some sleep.” Kitten followed me closely and Charlie chased Nemo up the stairs. I looked back to see Simon stretched out beside the older woman, letting her rub his belly. Things were weird, but for the moment, we were safe.

  I'd spent the last week practicing my lucid dreaming and had really gotten pretty good at it. So when I found myself strapped to the table again, my head pounding from having my horn cut off, I took a breath and prepared for battle. I could hear footsteps growing louder, the anticipation and dread growing as he came closer.

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  "Shall we remove your other horn tonight?" he asked, his voice poisoned silk against my ears. "Or should we wait a little longer?" He hummed tunelessly as he walked around, just a shadow against my peripheral vision. I heard glassware tinkling and smelled something acrid.

  "If you don't want to remain human," he said, suddenly appearing inches from my face, his hands resting on the table on either side of my head, "I imagine you'll be going home soon. Pity. All this work I've done to turn you into a mortal," he said the word with a sneer, "and this is the thanks I get."

  "Who the fuck are you?" I asked, making the gag disappear from my mouth. My tongue was dry and my jaw hurt, but this was my dream and I was going to take control. At least, that was the goal. Apparently I wasn't good enough yet to actually release myself, because no matter how much I struggled, I couldn't undo any of my other bonds.

  "Oh look at you," he crowed, clapping his hands in sinister delight, "you have learned a new trick. It's really too bad it's not going to be enough to save you, but it's still interesting. I knew you'd figure it out eventually." He literally patted my head before grabbing the edge of the table and spinning it. I kept trying to make the bonds release me or disappear or break, but no matter how much I tried, I couldn't get out. My heart pounded in my ears and I was already getting dizzy and sick from being spun around.

  "What do you want?" I shouted, closing my eyes, which just made the feeling of vertigo increase.

  "Want?" he asked from across the room. Then the table stopped suddenly and I could feel him leaning into my face again. "What do I want? I want what I've always wanted, and that's you, free of your mortal coil, back in my arms. You promised you would never leave me, but there you went, off on an adventure, making me come look for you." He whispered the last bit in my ear, he breath ticking my cheek and making my skin crawl. I couldn't even turn my head away.

  "I don't even know who you are," I whispered back, swallowing my fear at his proximity.

  "I know," he said, the lenses of his goggles reflecting my face back to me. In the way of dreams, I knew it was me even though the woman I saw had a more angular face, her eyes wide-set, a bandage on the stump of what used to be a horn, the other with a band around it, binding it to the table. Her eyes were the bright green of new leaves, though her hair was dark and curly like my own. His lascivious smile made my stomach churn. He licked my cheek, slowly, starting at my jawline. And that's when I started screaming.

  I was leaning over the edge of the bed, chest heaving, when the phone rang, startling me. Margie had already picked it up from my nightstand and answered it quickly.

  “It’s definitely a psychic attack of some kind,” she said without bothering to greet whoever was on the phone. “You were right. I just can’t figure out what they want from her.” She listened for a moment, nodding and still rubbing my back, even though I was sitting up on my own now. I gestured for her to hand me my phone, since it was, after all my phone. She ignored me and kept talking, but mouthing "Mac" at me so I'd know who she was talking to. I nodded and then put my head between my knees to stop my dizziness.

  “No, it won’t be much help, but it’s better than nothing. At least it will make whoever it is have to work a little harder to get to her.” She nodded again, listened, and signed off. “You go take a shower, dear, and I’ll change these sheets. Do you have clean ones in the wash?”

  “I’ve been keeping them in my closet,” I said, pointing to the closed door. Margie patted my shoulder and stood up, pulling me with her to my feet so she could strip the bed. Not quite sure what to do, I watched her pull clean sheets and blankets from the closet before wandering into the bathroom. Kitten sat outside the bathroom door, waiting for me. She gave me her big pittie grin and flopped onto her side, showing me her belly. I smiled and gave her a quick rub, realizing that I’d been naked the entire time. Well, so much for modesty. If people wanted to stay at my house, they were going to have to be cool about a lot of things really fast.

  Showered and recentered, I shambled out of the bathroom, wrapped in my robe. Just because she'd seen me naked didn't mean I wanted to stay naked. I looked at the clock. I was 2 a.m. I'd expected Margie to have taken herself back to bed, but I found her sitting on the chair in my room.

  “Now, here’s what I've been up to,” she said clapping her hands once and pointing to my clean bedspread. Laying there like a line of soldiers, I saw twelve dreamcatchers of various sizes and colors. Each one had a small flint arrowhead, a crystal, and some feathers. They were intricate and beautiful.

  “When did you sleep?” I asked her, delighted by her creations.

  “I don’t sleep much,” she said, rubbing her eyes. "Gloria may be a pain in my ass, but she’s very good at seeing what’s happening on the other side of the veil. Now, she didn’t see your dream and I don’t know what happened in it, so don’t worry about that, but she did see something attack you that she wasn’t able to fight off or even get a really good look at. These dreamcatchers aren’t fool-proof, but they should help. I made one for each set of windows so no matter where you fall asleep you’ll have at least a little protection. They’ve all been blessed and charged, and since we cleansed the house last week, this is really the best time to put them up.”

  “You’re not going to help me?” I asked.

  “You have hands,” she said with a wink. “I think you can handle putting them up. Now, I tried to coordinate the colors with your rooms, but you can mix and match and put them wherever they feel right to you. But I'm finally tired so I'm going to go to bed. Do you want pancakes or French toast for breakfast?" she asked, yawning and stretching her arms over her head.

  "I want to know about this psychic attack," I said firmly. I was exhausted and all I really wanted was my bed, but you can't say 'psychic attack' and then just expect me to go to sleep, especially if it's focused on me. Margie looked at me and nodded, sitting back down in the rocker.

  "I'll give you the short version now," she agreed, "and then we can go over everything in the morning. I think," she said, pulling out her phone and sending a quick text, "the longer explanation might require chocolate, so I'm texting Ava now... and done." She put her phone back into her pocket and leaned back in the chair, rocking herself gently.

  "I'm pretty sure the dreams aren't coming out of your brain," she said simply. "I think you are being acted upon by some outside force and you're being tormented. I don't know who or why or to what end, but I do know that my sister saw something come into the house and rush into your room and a few minutes later you started screaming. She saw it leave out the window, though, so I'm pretty sure we're secure at the moment." She titled her head to one side, listening, and then nodded.

  "What did it look like?" I asked.

  "It looked like a shadow person, like those poor souls that get stuck in cemeteries and defunct mental institutes," Margie said after a moment. "It seemed to be male, though, if that means anything to you." I could only nod. Of course it was male. Now we were going to have to figure out who and what it was.

  "Well shit," was all I could say, putting my face in my hands.

  The enormity of what might be happening suddenly crashed into me and all I could do was roll onto my bed and bury myself in blankets and pillows. Kitten climbed up after me, settling between my body and the wall and resting her head on the small of my back. Charlie climbed up to my pillow and settled it, poking me in the eye once to let me know she was there. Margie moved to the edge of the bed and started rubbing my back, humming something comforting. It was amazing how one person humming could set your teeth on edge and another person, humming something else entirely, could make you feel like home. Before either of us could say anything else, I was swallowed whole by the safe darkness of a deep and dreamless sleep.