Boundary Born (Boundary Magic Book 3) by Melissa F. Olson Page B

looking at Emil. My voice had come out harder than intended. “When we were born,” I added, trying to soften my tone.
    His face clouded over. “We had a fight when she was eight months pregnant. It was my fault,” he added immediately. “I wanted her to give up boundary magic until the baby was born. I had no real reason, other than it unnerved me for her to be playing with life and death when she was growing new life inside her.” He motioned to his own stomach.
    So Valerya had been a boundary witch, like me. And this man knew at least a little about the Old World. I didn’t think he was a boundary witch himself—we age slowly, our cells reluctant to die. Unless he was really old . . .
    “The argument got heated,” he continued. “We were both yelling, but then I . . . I grabbed her by the shoulders, shook her. She ran from me.” Regret had drawn new lines around his mouth, and he dropped his eyes, looking ashamed. “I thought she would stay with friends for a night, maybe two, and we would make up. But I never saw her again.”
    I handed the photo back, but he waved me away. “You keep it,” he said. “You should have a photo of her.”
    I set it on the coffee table carefully, placing a hardcover book over the photo to protect it from turning into a dog toy. Chip and Cody had wandered off as soon as Emil stopped petting them, but Gus-Gus made himself comfortable in the man’s lap. I watched him pet the cat for a moment, trying to formulate my next question.
    “You’re talking about her in the past tense,” I said finally. “So you know she’s dead?”
    He nodded, his face grave. “When more than a week went by, I took some hairs from Valerya’s pillow and brought them to a trades witch I know. He did a locating spell, but she wasn’t anywhere. That only happens when the person has . . . passed on.
    “I went to two more witches, but each had the same result. I had nothing with which to locate you—no hair, no fingernails—but I did try finding you my own way.”
    “What does that mean?”
    He leaned sideways so he could reach into his hip pocket, pulling out a small piece of glossy stone, perfectly round and perfectly black.
    “This is a scrying mirror,” he explained. “I have boundary witchblood, like your mother, but like most males I can’t activate it. But I can use natural magics. That’s how I eventually found you, by scrying.”
    Natural magic. Simon had mentioned this once or twice, but he usually called it gravitational magic, because it pools in certain places. It’s the same magic that keeps vampires from entering someone’s home without permission, although that was about all I knew about it.
    I suddenly felt like an idiot. I’d been so caught up in meeting Emil that I hadn’t stopped to wonder how he’d found me. Careless. “What do you mean? Why would it work now and not then?”
    He put the black stone back in his pocket. “I’m not sure. For years, whenever I tried to scry for the baby, the results were . . . confused. It was like the baby’s location was bouncing back and forth, which made it impossible for me to pinpoint.” He lifted his empty hands in a helpless gesture. “Eventually, I restricted myself to checking once a year, then every two years. I moved to Nova Scotia, opened a shop there, but I kept my ear to the ground. Last month I was at a small business conference in Chicago. An old friend had heard about a powerful boundary witch who had appeared in Colorado, seemingly out of nowhere. Honestly, my heart just lit up.” He beamed. “I tried scrying again, and this time it led me straight to you.”
    I barely heard this last part. My thoughts were stuck on the words bouncing back and forth . “Twins,” I blurted. “There were two of us. That’s why you couldn’t find us when we were little.”
    He started. “Two of you? The ultrasound never . . . there must have been a mistake.”
    He stood up, displacing Gus-Gus, who stalked away