Page 8 of Clinically Bewitched
I beamed at him. “Aw, that’s so sweet!”
The back room was small but cozy, and I’d done my best to make it feel like home. Crystals lined the windowsill, catching the morning light. My herb bundles hung from the ceiling, drying. I’d drawn protective sigils on the walls with washable marker. I probably should have asked about that first, but the universe had been very insistent.
“Okay,” I said, surveying my belongings. “I’ll need my travel altar, obviously. And my crystal grid. Oh, and my moonwater collection. I have bottles from six different full moons, and you never know when you might need—”
“How about we pack everything?” Gator suggested. “Just to be safe.”
“Everything?”
“Every. Single. Thing.”
“Even the sigils on the walls?”
“ESPECIALLY the sigils on the walls.”
I laughed. “You can’t pack sigils, silly. But I can cleanse them before I go. Don’t want to leave any residual energy behind.”
Gator’s eye twitched. “How thoughtful.”
Within twenty minutes, which had to be some kind of record, my entire life was packed into three suitcases and two duffel bags. The Bourbon Kings worked with the efficiency of a NASCAR pit crew, and I had to admit, I was impressed.
“I think that’s everything,” I said, looking around the now-empty room. “Oh! Except my pendulum. I left it in the bar.”
“I’ll get it!” Juju practically sprinted from the room.
“And my amethyst cluster. It’s on the—”
“Got it!” Thore held it up triumphantly.
“Wow, you guys are really good at this.”
“We’re motivated,” Braveheart said.
“By your happiness,” Donut added quickly. “We’re motivated by your happiness and spiritual fulfillment.”
“That’s so beautiful.” I pressed my hand to my heart. “You know, the universe really does put the right people in our path at the right time. I’m so grateful I got to spend these weeks with you all.”
“Us too,” Gator said, and he almost sounded like he meant it. “Now, let’s get you to that airport.”
The drive to Louis Armstrong International Airport was surprisingly emotional. Juju drove while I sat in the passenger seat, and the rest of the guys followed in two more vehicles with my luggage. I watched the city pass by, feeling the pull of destiny tugging at my solar plexus.
“Las Vegas,” I murmured. “The universe is sending me to Las Vegas.”
“It’s a great place,” Juju said. “Lots of... lights. And gambling. And shows. Very spiritual.”
“Everything is spiritual if you look at it the right way.”
“Sure. Yeah. That.”
At the airport, they didn’t just drop me off; they all came inside, helped me check my bags, and waited with me until I had my boarding pass.
“Flight leaves in two hours,” Gator said, checking his phone. “That work for you?”
“The universe’s timing is always perfect.”
“Right. Of course it is.”
I was about to head toward security when Devlyn, Gator’s wife, appeared, slightly out of breath, carrying a small bag.
