Almost none of our income comes from the Bindan, surprisingly, since we spend so much time with them. We earn most of our living on Mom's fortune telling gig, and my little side business selling charms on the renaissance festival circuit.

It's a nomadic life, but we like it.

On the drive back home to our current renaissance festival gig in southeast Texas, Mom broke the silence. "It takes a strength of character to handle the gift of empathy. You have that. It's not magic like mine, but it's powerful. I am so proud of you for that."

"Right," I said. This was not the first time I heard that. It was nice of Mom to try to make me feel better about not having magical powers, but empathy was a poor substitute and, with these headaches, more often a curse than a blessing. I rubbed my neck, where the pain had spread. It felt like one of those migraines that would stick around for a while.

"You let your guard down around them." Mom shook her head. "They're not our friends, Kate."

"Their ways are not our ways." I made air quotes with my fingers.

Clea pressed her lips together. "I'm just afraid you didn't do either of us a favor today by letting those girls get away with spying on us."

I shrugged. "Relax, Mom. It's not like we're going to bump into them at the renaissance festival or something."

*****
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