"You can sense the shrieker?" Wren and I sat at her table, drawn in by her mystery. I ran my fingers over the smooth, carved oak surface, tracing its natural lines and curves. A concave groove had been lovingly sculpted into the center of the table, forming a bowl in the wood.

"No. I do not sense it like you can, dear." She reached over to a nearby dresser and picked up a large mason jar filled with water and amethyst crystals. Using great care, she poured the water into the table's built-in bowl, filling it slowly. "I see it."

She dipped her index finger into the water and swirled it around the bowl in a clockwise pattern, forming ripples which sparkled and twinkled like stars. She watched the water intently as she lifted her finger out of the bowl and let it swirl. Wren and I leaned forward, trying to see what she saw.

"Do you see it?" the woman asked, looking at me. I shook my head. "My love, you've suppressed your powers for far too long. They've become weak. I can understand your sister's powers have not come in yet, but yours..." she said as she reached a hand out, "they're lying dormant. Give me your hand."

I placed a hand in hers, and the moment we made contact I saw the water light up and an image appear. It was surreal, like a film clip playing in the water's reflective surface. I moved in closer as I saw the shrieker at the entrance to the market, standing still amongst the fast-moving crowd. I could see that unnerving flare in his eyes as he searched for my sister and I. His skin was pale, his features pointed and sharp as he stood as motionless as a statue. Shriekers wanted to blend in, so they always wore black suits, complete with black vests, ties and gloves. To the unknowing humans, he looked normal, but any witch could tell he was far from it.

"How am I seeing this?"

"It's your gift," she said. "You are an Intueri. You feel as others feel, yes?"

"Yes," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"The gift of enhanced intuition, of empathy, is powerful, my dear. Even with all your resistance, all your avoidance of it, look at what you can do." She leaned closer, looking into my eyes. "You can sense the shriekers. You can see the true hearts of others. And when a witch activates their power in your presence, you can experience their power too. As you are doing now."

I watched the water as the shrieker started moving again, walking away from the market, away from us.

"You may be able to run and hide from the shriekers, dear girl," the woman said as the image in the bowl faded away. "But you can no longer run and hide from your power. You cannot run from who you are."

"I'm not running from my power," I argued. "I'm doing what I have to do to keep us safe, to keep us alive."

She put her other hand on top of mine. "Oh, love, sometimes trying too hard to be safe prevents you from being truly alive."

"That's what I tell her!" Wren said.

"Your sister does her best, sweet child," the woman said to Wren, before turning back to me. "But you're afraid. Your fear is controlling you, and it's limiting your powers. You may think the life you have created has freed you from danger, but all you have done is build a cage around yourself. You have built a cage around your heart. But the time has come for you to embrace your power. It is time to set yourself free."

I pulled my hand away from hers, not wanting to know any more about my power. I tried not to show it, but her words frightened me more than any shrieker ever could. I stood up from the table and took Wren's hand. "Come on. Let's go."

"But what about the shrieker?"

"He's gone."

"How do you know?" She leaned over the table to look deep into the water. "What did you see in there?"

A rush of emotion ran through me, and I fell back onto the chair. I held my hands over my heart, waiting for the panic to start. But it didn't. I wasn't feeling panic or fear; it was something else entirely. Something good. I closed my eyes, trying to detect the emotion and where it came from. It filled my heart-space, feeling oddly familiar, yet totally new all at once. I touched Wren's shoulder and looked her in the eyes, searching her for what I was feeling, but she wasn't the source. I looked at the witch, but felt nothing from her at all.

Her lips curved into a slight smile. "He needs your help."

"Who?" I asked, bewildered by the overwhelming wave of hope and courage I felt. I hadn't felt anything so pure, so uplifting, since long before my parents died. I felt like I had wings.

The woman glanced at the front door of the store, and seconds later someone entered.

A boy.

He looked to be a year or two older than me, and I knew instantly he was the source of what I was feeling. It simultaneously intrigued and terrified me. I didn't recognize him, but somehow I thought I had seen him somewhere before. I quietly stepped behind the bookshelf, watching him curiously, drawn to him by the unexplained connection I had to him.

I watched from the back room as he approached a glass cabinet filled with athamés and blades. At over six feet, he had to duck slightly to avoid the low ceiling. He had broad shoulders and a muscular physique visible even under his navy t-shirt, dark grey hoodie, and brown leather jacket. He slid his hands in his jean pockets as his gaze scanned the different daggers on the shelf in front of him. He tugged on a gray, knitted beanie and scratched lightly at the stubble on his jawline, inspecting the weapons carefully.

The witch walked past me to greet the boy, taking her place behind the counter of the store. "May I help you?"

"Hi," he said, flashing her a charming smile which exposed his dimples. Even from the other side of the store, I could see the deep brown of his eyes as he spoke to her.

"Whoa!" Wren gasped as she stood next to me, standing on her toes to peer over the books. "Who is that?"

"Shh!" I nudged her arm. "I don't know."

"Is he the one she was talking about?" she asked, her smile wide with excitement. "The one who needs your help?"

"Don't be ridiculous. She doesn't know what she's talking about."

Wren rolled her eyes. "She was right about everything else."

The sound of our chatter caught the boy's attention, and he looked over to the bookshelf.

"Crap!" I pulled a random book off the shelf and held it up in front of my face, which was burning hot in embarrassment. Wren held her hands over her mouth, trying unsuccessfully to stop herself from giggling, and soon I giggled along with her. It felt good to forget our worries and just be sisters, to share a secret laugh together, even just for a moment.

I peered over the book in my hands, horrified to see him still looking over at me. Our gazes locked, and his mouth turned up into a crooked smile. I thought I saw a hint of recognition in his eyes, but before I could be sure, it disappeared. I sensed confusion from him, and wondered if he thought he'd seen me somewhere before too.

"Here you are," the witch said as she handed him a silver dagger wrapped in a velvet cloth, drawing his gaze away from me.

"Thanks." He paid for the blade and turned toward the door, pulling it open. He paused, curiously glancing back at me once more before stepping outside and disappearing into the crowd, taking the emotional rush of energy with him.

"Come on," I whispered to Wren. "Let's go get some dinner."

"Shouldn't we just go home?" Wren asked.

"We can't, not yet. The shrieker might go back there. We'll have to sleep in the bookstore tonight. I'll go home tomorrow and make sure it's safe."

We stepped out from behind the bookshelf, where we were met by the witch. "I have something for you. Hold your hands out." She pulled a little patchwork pouch from her dress pocket, opened it, and poured the contents out onto my open palms. There were three small, but beautiful, crystals, just like the ones my mother used to keep on her altar.

She pointed to a smooth black stone. "This is black obsidian. It's an incredibly powerful stone. It will help you to find yourself and harness your power, while protecting you from negative forces." She turned her attention to a larger pink stone with rough edges. "This is rose quartz. It will encourage you to open your heart and love—not just others, but yourself. It will aid you in healing past hurts and help you to forgive. And this," she said as she pointed to an almost translucent, white stone, "is moonstone. It will help to calm the overwhelming emotions you feel and help you embrace your gifts."

She bent down to be eye level with Wren and smiled. "And for you, my love." She pulled another little pouch from her pocket and opened it, inviting Wren to look inside. With an eager smile, Wren peeked inside and pulled out a silver necklace with a turquoise angel pendant hanging from it.

"Oh, wow!" Wren said, clasping a hand over her mouth as she examined it. "I love it."

"This is no ordinary necklace," the woman said. "I enchanted it myself. Your sister has the fortunate ability to sense the shriekers, but if you ever find yourself lost or separated from each other, this will help you."

Wren cocked her head to the side. "How?"

"Whenever a shrieker is near, the angel will change color. Instead of being the bright, sky blue it is now, it will turn black. And the moment you're safely away from the enemy, it will change back to turquoise again."

Wren stared at the necklace, with her jaw hanging open.

"I, uh..." I stammered as I looked up at the generous witch. "I don't know what to say. Thank you."

She offered a warm smile. "Of course. We witches must take care of one another. Please do remember what I told you."

I nodded, grateful for her gifts, but still wishing I could forget everything she said about my power. The thought of embracing my Intueri side scared me more than I cared to admit.

Wren and I said our goodbyes and walked through the store. We took one last look at the painting of Queen Zadie before stepping out onto the cold, busy street.