Georgette sat on the bed in the lovely room Pete had led her to after supper with Madame DuBois. She’d changed into a soft cotton nightdress, opened the window to listen to the sounds of the night, and crawled into the comfortable bed. Now, Georgette contemplated the message she would send to her mother on Rubidoux Island. With her fingers on her temples, she drew power to herself from the many creatures outside. The witch only drew a little from each. She didn’t want to kill even a cricket to accomplish her task, and when she felt strong enough, she pictured her mother in her room in the chateau.
“Mother?” Georgette prodded. “It’s me, Georgette. Mama, I’m safe and comfortable, but I want to see you. Come into St. Elizabeth on Market Day this week and meet me at the big brick mercantile s
