Aida came up beside Cassandra and laid gnarled fingers on her wrists. "You must stop this magic," she said softly, her gaze on hers.
"She doesn't know," said Marie. "Fiona never told her."
"Told me what?"
Marie shared a concerned look with Aida then she placed her hands under hers, pressing upward. Her fingers curled over the flames, dousing them.
Tilda pointed at her. "She was going to attack!"
"No, I wasn't." At least, she didn't think so. "I wouldn't hurt anyone." She whirled around, trying to find support within the crowd. These people had been friends and customers of the Willowstones for years. Some wouldn't look at her, and others stared at her in revulsion. "What has I ever done to any of you? I am not Delia Willowstone!"
"But you are certainly her daughter," said Dorianna. "Do you practice black magic, too?"
The accusation hung in the air like poisonous gas, threatening to smother her if she breathed it in.
