Witches of a Certain Age
Camden Park Press 06/22/2022
60 is the new 40 and magic isn’t just for the young.
In these pages, you’ll meet witches who are open about their magic and others who keep their power a closely-guarded secret. They find lost pets and lost people, break curses and hexes, and cast more than a few spells of their own.
WITCHES OF A CERTAIN AGE presents thirteen female magic-users in their prime – women who have power and both the experience and the wisdom to wield it.
Contains stories by L.D.B. Taylor, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, Donea Lee Weaver, Kat Farrow, Meghan O’Hara Murray, Claire Davon, Eva Papier, Elizabeth Hosang, Charlotte Henley Babb, Wayland Smith, Jena Rey, Jenise Aminoff, and Liz Pierce. Edited by Lyn Worthen
Sitting cross-legged, she took several breaths. Cynara had learned over the years that meditation wasn’t about forcing her thoughts to blankness, more about accepting what came in as she was focused and letting the idea drift and then exit. She was almost at the end of her ten minutes when an image caught her attention. A dog. His likeness stuck there, his howls filling the space, though quiet still reigned in the house.
She knew this dog. She’d tried to help him, but it had been too late. She was a pet communicator for a reason. Her skill with lost pets and recovery was what drew customers to her. One was on his way as she finished her meditation. The dog was not the purpose of the visit, but he was nonetheless familiar. He might be linked to her early visitor, the one who had a job for her.
Her knees protested the position and she eased up, moving to her dining room table. She contemplated her deck of tarot cards but then put the idea aside. Sometimes she would start the day with a reading, but her instincts told her to wait. Instead, she reached for her sage and lit it before waving it around the house.
The vision that caught her at the end of her meditation informed Cynara that she was going to be asked to track a lost pet. Those quests could end in sadness, as it had with the dog she was now seeing. She prayed this wasn’t the case here. She hated to contact the animal only to find that the only answer she could give their human companions was that their friend was no longer in pain. It comforted her as little as it did those who sought to be reunited with their beloved comrade.
“Oh.” Now she had it. “Barney.” The beagle/basset hound mix that she had tried and failed to save months ago barked on hearing his name. He had the faded quality of the recently departed, but was surprisingly alert.
Whatever was about to happen, he was part of it.
Greylin jumped on the table. His big yellow eyes fixed on her and he meowed again. She scratched his head and grinned.
Her senses alerted her that the man she’d talked to the night before was now on his way to her home. He’d asked for the early morning appointment, stating that he needed to meet with her before work. Many witches got up to greet the dawn, and she was no different, but she was surprised that he wanted a time so early. Josh Birger, as he had identified himself, was coming even earlier than he’d suggested.
Cynara hurried to her room to change.