Data and Divination: Windflower, #4
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About this ebook
Previously published as Data and Divination by Andi C. Buchanan
Jasmina thought she'd left witchcraft behind her.
She's worked hard to leave the abusive magic-filled compound she'd grown up in. Her life is normal now: a public service job, a town house, a book club. Normal.
Until Larch shows up. A cousin, expelled from the same compound she fled, all those years ago. And now Jasmina's his only contact in the outside world.
With Larch, Jasmina finds herself hurtling back into the world of witchcraft, getting to know a whole new group of people. Is it possible for magic to go with kindness, goodwill, even love?
Read more from Andi R. Christopher
Windflower
Related to Data and Divination
Titles in the series (5)
Succulents and Spells: Windflower, #1 Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5Microscopes and Magic: Windflower, #2 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsAlpaca and Apparitions: Windflower, #3 Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5Data and Divination: Windflower, #4 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsWeddings and Witchcraft: Windflower, #5 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
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Data and Divination - Andi R. Christopher
Data and Divination
Andi R. Christopher
Copyright © Andi C. Buchanan 2022
This edition:
Copyright © Andi R. Christopher 2024
This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act 1994, no part may be reproduced by any process without the permission of the publisher.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of New Zealand.
ISBN
978-0-473-70485-6 (paperback)
978-0-473-70487-2 / 978-0-473-70488-9 (ebook)
Contents
1.Data and Divination
2.A note from Andi R. Christopher
3.About the author
4.Also by Andi R. Christopher
Data and Divination
Jasmina stared at the screen. She was sure she hadn’t even begun writing the complex query to find all the relevant pieces of legislation she had been asked for, but there it was, together with its result: a neat list covering everything from local ordinances to national laws, ready to be tidied up and sent to the requester.
This wasn’t the first time it had happened. Was she getting enough sleep? Could she be having seizures? The rational part of her knew that she should get this checked out, but she didn’t want to admit there was another possible explanation. So she settled on the easiest option - not enough caffeine - and pushed back her chair, grabbing her reusable mug to head to the cafe across the road and get herself another coffee.
Her phone rang the instant she did so. She sighed dramatically, but decided to do the right thing.
Good morning, this is Layla. Your nephew is waiting at reception.
Jasmina felt her stomach lurch. She resisted the urge to ask which nephew?Instead, she told Layla she’d be down in a couple of minutes, stood, and took some deep breaths.
Everything okay?
asked Craig from the desk next to her.
Yeah. Bit of family drama, but I’ll sort it.
Craig mercifully just said he hoped it worked out okay, and not that he didn’t know she had any family. She didn’t know if her workmates had noticed she never mentioned anyone; she’d got this job after her divorce, and there were no parents, no siblings, no children... Maybe her lack of comment on the matter had just faded into the background. She preferred it that way.
Jasmina grabbed her cup - she’d definitely be needing coffee now - and headed for reception. The Ministry of Government - MoG for short - occupied the top four floors of a ten-storey building. Jasmina was on the highest, which meant amazing views over the harbour, and excitement when anything - from a squad of dolphins to the police boat heading out - happened. It also meant it swayed in an earthquake, and in Wellington’s frequent gales, which she knew rationally made things safer, but didn’t much enjoy.
Normally she’d get the lift down to the 8th-floor reception, but she felt burning off some of whatever she was feeling would be good for her, so she took the two flights of stairs down to the reception area, on the only floor open to the public.
Layla pointed her gaze over to a boy of about sixteen with a sports bag at his feet and haphazardly cut hair. Fortunately so, because it was not like Jasmina was going to have recognised him. He stood up, eyes at the floor. He wore a black hoodie, unzipped, and round his neck was a pendant. Jasmina recognised it instantly: malachite. A crystal for balance and healing.
Hi, I’m sorry, uh. I’m Larch… I –
Jasmina sized him up. He looked on the edge of being defeated by the world… but not quite.
Let’s get some food,
she said and ushered him quickly into the lift. She felt like she could see different parts of her life suddenly heading for collision: the life she thought she’d left behind, and the one she’d built with herself up until now. She was in her fifties now, and her childhood felt like a distant memory, hazy and dreamlike. Larch came from that world, a world Jasmina had left long ago and that scared her… but it was also proof she wasn’t the only one who’d been able to escape, and there was a dizzying sense of exhilaration in that as well.
Larch stared at the menu under the counter. Jasmina realised he’d never had Thai food before. He’d probably barely eaten in a restaurant. Was she once this naive?
You like chicken?
she asked him gently, and when he nodded hungrily, she ordered him a pad thai, and a green curry for herself. Looking at his face, she added some roti and lemon tea to the order. Ten minutes later he was wolfing it down to the point she wondered if he needed another full stack of roti.
When did you last eat?
she asked.
Sorry.
He wiped his mouth with his napkin and looked up. He looked like a different person - still scared, but a kid full of determination and hope. I had a pie yesterday morning.
Shit. I’m glad you... how did you know where to...? Okay no, let’s start at the beginning. I haven’t had any contact since I left when I was nineteen, which will have been before you were born. So how old are you and how are we related?
I’m sixteen next month,
Larch said, helping himself to the penultimate piece of roti. And my mother is your sister Arabella.
I remember Arabella. She was just a child when I left.
Arabella with ribbons in her hair who loved horses and collecting shells at the beach. How... how is she?
She’s... there are six of us. So it’s a lot for her, especially now Dad has a bad back. She doesn’t trust people. She talks a lot about things like cursing the latest flu vaccine to make people turn against the government, but she’s not strong enough for that.
Jasmina put her elbows on her table and rubbed her eyes with her palms. Right, so not so much has changed then. And you... look, we’ll talk about things in detail later, once you’re feeling a bit better, but I assume they don’t know you’ve gone?
They’d have never let me leave.
Right. I probably do need to tell them you’re safe. But you don’t need to go back.
Jasmina called in for the afternoon, stating a vague family emergency. She had a reputation for being steady and reliable, so she knew if she claimed an emergency then they’d believe it really was. She walked Larch through the unspoken rules as they got on the bus; to sit nearest the window if there’s a window seat free, to keep your bag on your knee. Things she wished she’d had someone to teach her when she first left. He didn’t say anything in the