Saturday -- Again?

Oh my, it's Saturday again. Already. And here my head has been completely in the book I'm working on.

Still, a promise is a promise. (No matter how small . . .)

Okay, enough Dr. Suess. Got your bowl and milk? Then let's go.

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I was sweating like a pig. It wasn't that hot. Not really. The weather was pleasant, and the church was air conditioned. But I was nervous. Oh, hell, who was I kidding. I was terrified.

Cassandra had explained the plan to heal me back at the house. It was simple enough in theory. We needed to recreate as closely as possible the circumstances where my powers were bound. When we reached the point where they'd initially been blocked, my subconscious would react, my magic would flare, and Eleanor should be able to see what my father had done and cut through the bindings. Theoretically.

It actually stood a good chance of working. And it wouldn't hurt me a bit . . . physically. Psychologically on the other hand . . . well, let's just say I wasn't having a good time.

Eleanor was using my cell phone to talk to Cassandra, going over last-minute details. Neither Cass nor Tracker could leave the house at the moment, and a spell like the one they'd used last night was too likely to interfere with what we were trying to accomplish here. So they were conversing the way normal humans did it. A new experience for them, I think.

"You don't have to do this you know." Bob laid a hand on my shoulder. "They can't force you."

"It needs to be done." I shuddered. "I know that." But oh, Lord, I did hate it. Oh yes I did.

"If you're sure." He sounded dubious. "Now tell me again how this is going to work."

I gestured toward the baptismal pool. Most of the churches I was familiar with didn't do immersion baptisms. So no pool. We'd wound up going back to the same actual church. Which was probably why I was so freaked. "I put on the robe. Uncle Buford will be the minister. The three of us step into the pool." My mouth went dry, and I had a bitter taste on my tongue. I had to close my eyes and force myself to continue. "It'll start like a regular baptism. Only you hold me down."

"Hold you down?" He was frowning, clearly unhappy with the thought. Him and me both.

"As if you're drowning me."

"Sahara . . ."

"I've got magic. When I panic, I'll draw on it instinctively, try to lash out. And that's when Eleanor will cut the bindings."

"It sounds damned dangerous."

"Uncle Buford will be shielding you to make sure nothing happens to you."

"It's not me I'm worried about."

"I trust you." And I did. He was just about the only person I could say that about. Which was why I'd chosen him to do this with me.

He grunted acknowledgment. Obviously still unhappy.

"If everyone is ready," uncle Buford sounded snappish. "The night isn't getting any younger, and we don't want the reverend, or the police to interrupt."

Across the room Eleanor finished her conversation and folded my cell phone closed. She set it onto the table next to my backpack and strolled over to the edge of the pool. She looked over at Bob and me. "It's time."

Oh joy.