She grinned as fast feet flew out the bedroom door. The most potent remedies were well out of Lizzie’s reach-but plenty of lovely and vile stuff inhabited the bottom shelf. Good practice for a budding healer-and an excellent threat if Marcus didn’t prove cooperative.

A good healer needed to be skilled with both carrots and sticks.

She looked back over at Marcus, who glared at her with well-deserved suspicion, and smiled. “I suggest you recover quickly.”

He snorted. “That would be easier done if I knew what the hell happened.”

Moira slid in the door, showing none of the hand-wringing fear she’d been wearing like a cloak when Sophie first arrived. She sat in the chair beside the bed, never taking eyes off her nephew. “It seems the medium brought you two messages-one I understood, and one I didn’t.”

Sophie felt the terror raking Marcus again-and wondered what on earth had just crashed into Fisher’s Cove.

Moira watched her nephew, the scar tissue in her heart aching at the haunted fear in his eyes. They’d never truly been able to reach the devastated five-year-old boy who had watched his brother vanish into the eternal mists.

She remembered when they’d found him standing on the cliff’s edge just outside the village, screaming Evan’s name into the wind and holding more power in his hands than most adult witches used in a lifetime.

It had taken months to heal his seared magical channels. His heart, they’d never been able to touch. They’d lost Evan to the awful power of astral travel-and she often thought his twin’s heart had gone with him.

Just as she’d done for more than forty years, she reached out with love. And prayed that one day it wouldn’t be turned away. “Tell us what happened.”