by Lori Drake
“Yeah?” I turned my head to look in the direction of the door. It cracked open a little, and Dan peeked in.
“Can I come in?” He pushed the door open a little bit wider, daring to look around my Fortress of Solitude.
I sighed. “Yeah. But this isn’t a standing invitation, just a temporary suspension of the roommate accord.” I gave the bed beside me a pat. “What’s up?”
Pushing the door open the rest of the way, he wandered into the room, stepping around the various articles of clothing on the floor and coming to sit on the bed beside me.
“Look, I’ve been thinking, and I want you to know that I’m not going to tell Mom or Dad about last night. What you did.”
“Oh?” I eyed him, the subject still a bit sore. “What brought about that change of heart?”
He shrugged, looking down at the comforter. “Nothing, really. I never intended to follow through with it. Sometimes I say things without really thinking it through, you know?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Shut up, I’m trying to be genuine here.” He poked me in the side.
“Uh-huh.”
“Anyway, it was shitty of me, and I’m sorry. I just want to help, and this damn binding… You have no idea what it’s like, Em. If I don’t get it off, I’m going to go crazy.”
“Did you really think Hector would do it for you?” I’d been wondering about that off and on ever since the incident with the coven leader earlier in the day.
“No. But he’s the only one I’ve come across that’s strong enough since I got here. It’s not like this podunk town is overflowing with powerful witches.”
“Why do you think I like it?” I smiled and poked his leg. One good poke deserves another, after all.
“I don’t know, honestly. It’s like living on another planet, compared to back home. Weird people, weird customs. If there weren’t a Starbucks I’d think we were on Mars or something.”
“I’m pretty sure there’s a Starbucks opening on Mars next year,” I joked, earning a faint smile from him. I pushed myself up into a sitting position, folding my legs Indian style. “I know this is tough for you, and I’ll do what I can to find someone to get your binding off. In the meantime, you just need to… I don’t know. Grow up.”
He glanced at me, flashing me a wounded look. I guess I could have been gentler about it. But I felt like it needed to be said. “Sorry. What I mean is quit acting like everything’s a big joke and take things more seriously. That’s what got you into this mess to start with, remember?”
He grimaced, but at least he wasn’t laughing me off. He was listening, which was a step in the right direction as far as I was concerned.
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll try.”
I reached over and drew him into a hug, and he leaned against me for a long moment. In that moment, I saw the mask fall away and realized that underneath all his bravado and buffoonery he was deeply wounded. I knew how that felt, even if I was still a little irked at him over the whole “abandoning a pregnant woman” thing. Anyway, I hugged him tighter for a few moments more but let him go when he pulled away.
“Enough about me,” he said, scratching his chin. He had a couple of days’ worth of scruff going on. “Let’s talk about you.”
And things were going so well. I groaned, drawing my knees up to half-mast and looping my arms around them loosely. “Do we have to?”
“Yes. We need to talk about what happened last night, what you did. That was incredible.”
“Well, I don’t like to brag.” It might be possible that there is a smart-ass gene that runs in my family. In others, it’s an annoyance. In me, I don’t mind it so much.
“That’s not what I mean. I mean incredible as in not believable. That shouldn’t be possible. I’ve never even heard of it.” My jovial baby brother was suddenly very serious. I wasn’t sure if I liked it. “What else can you do?”
“Huh? Nothing, at least not that I know of. I’ve never done anything like it before, and the whole family knows I have no magical ability. I’m The Null, remember?” Even from my own lips, the word stung.
At least he grimaced. Point for him. “Well, you could see the wards at the motel, right?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, but so can you.”
“So that means you’re not a null. What else can you do?”
“Um… I can see any magic that’s being slung around, and I can sense witches.”
His head came up, blue eyes focusing on me intensely. “You can sense witches? Even when they’re not actively using magic?”
“Yeah, can’t you?”
“No, that’s not something witches can do. At least, not that I know of…” He trailed off, looking at me thoughtfully.
I repressed the urge to squirm. “Okay, so maybe I’m witch-adjacent. Now what?”
“Well, you’re going to need a crash course in magic. You never got the same lessons we did, did you?”
I smirked, shaking my head. “No, there wasn’t any point since I didn’t have any ability. I learned a little bit. Whatever I happened to overhear.”
“I don’t have any of the references we’ll need. Maybe Liam could—”
“No!” I straightened abruptly. “I don’t want to involve the family in this.”
“Yeah, I had a feeling you were going to say that. Maybe the locals can be of some help?” he suggested, hopefully.
I looked away, thinking about the conversation I’d just had with John Warren. “I don’t really want to tell anyone that we don’t have to. I mean, what if this is just the tip of the iceberg? What if I become dangerous?”
“You’re an untrained witch. You’re already dangerous.” At least he tried to be gentle about it, laying a hand on my knee. “Liam has access to the family library. He can do some research. I don’t even have to tell him that it’s about you, I can just… ask some general questions. You know what he’s like. If he gets curious enough, he’ll throw himself into research mode, and who knows what he might find.”
“Yeah, but if he doesn’t have the context, he won’t know that it’s important he shares what he finds.” I picked at a stray thread on my comforter, glancing up at him again after a moment’s pause. “There may be another way.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“You know that witch that rode to the rescue last night? He called, said he knows someone that might be able to help.”
“That’s probably code for his penis.”
I grabbed a pillow and swatted him with it. He grinned, throwing an arm up in self-defense. An hour ago I would have found it infuriating, but now… I don’t know. Something had shifted, some realignment in our relationship. Years’ worth of animosity can’t be undone in an hour, but I was making progress.
“You’re disgusting,” I said, but less seriously than I might have before.
“Do what you’re good at, right?” But his grin faded after a few seconds. He looked at me thoughtfully and said, “Do whatever you think you need to do. Just, uh, if you do go visit some wizened old Indian woman, ask if she has any good fry bread recipes. That shit is delicious.”
“Out, get out!” I pointed imperiously at the door, but he had me laughing in spite of myself, and that laughter eased the knot of emotions in my chest. Sometimes laughter is the best medicine.
Chapter 24
The next morning found me driving down an unnamed dirt road in the foothills north of the city, somewhere in the ass-end of the Pojoaque Pueblo. There’s a reason why I own a four-wheel drive, and this technically wasn’t it, but it was a good reason for me to be glad for it. The roads out there didn’t get plowed. They only remained passable thanks to the traffic of the people that lived there. More than once, my tires slipped on ice, but I managed to stay on the road.
Also more than once, I had to squint at the directions I’d been given. That’s the thing about unnamed roads. There’s not an abundance of landmarks. I was pretty sure even Amazon didn’t deliver out here. Maybe someday the drones
would. I finally spotted the red gate I’d been advised to look for, and another quarter-mile down the road was the turnoff I was supposed to take.
As I bounced along down the winding road, I started to reconsider my decision to come out here alone. Bringing Dan would have been… well, not smarter, but it would have been nice to have some backup. I did call Matt before I left, though, so at least someone else knew where I’d gone. I’d dropped Dan off at the police station before I left town so he could run interference with Escobar and maybe get some work done while I was out. I wasn’t expecting them to have any major breakthroughs, but it at least made me feel a little better about taking this time to run a very personal errand.
The blue fence was easy to spot against a white backdrop. It was a tall privacy fence; all I could see of the house behind it was the roof. There was a beat-up old pickup truck parked next to the gate. I parked beside the truck. The snow there looked untouched, whereas it was clear that the truck moved in and out of its parking spot regularly. I hoped it was actually another parking spot I’d taken and not just a wintering garden or something. Hi John, thanks for your help, sorry I flattened your tubers. That’d be awkward.
Climbing out of the car, I took a closer look around. The landscape was covered in a fresh dusting of snow from last night. This far out of the city, it was peaceful and quiet. The air was cleaner, crisper somehow. And the land, it just felt older. It’s nonsense, of course, but there’s something about a less-developed area—it always seems older to me, like it has maintained something that more urban landscapes have lost. A sense of the past, of the wildness that still exists in pockets like these across the world.
On the other side of the fence, a dog barked when I closed my car door. It was the low, deep bark of a large dog, but not a very enthusiastic one. I couldn’t help but think of it as more of a heads-up than a sound to warn off would-be trespassers. The snow crunched under my boots as I made my way to the gate.
“Wear sensible shoes,” he’d said. Humph. Like I really need prompting for that. Shoes are one of my few true vanities, and I rather pride myself on my ability to select something appropriate to an occasion. Most days, that meant nursing shoes or sneakers. But when traipsing out into the wilderness on a snowy day something a little more rugged is called for. I didn’t need some overbearing He-Man to tell me what to wear.
Anyhow, I peered through the narrow gap between the fence slats, trying to see if the dog was tied up or free-range. Before I could get a bead on it, or see much at all of the snow-covered yard beyond the fence, something blocked my view. I started slightly, chiding myself for being so distracted that I didn’t notice a magical signature approaching. I knew it was John before he opened the gate, and when he did I flashed him a small smile.
He looked pretty much the same as I remembered him, wearing the same coat and what could have been the same pair of blue jeans. But let’s face it, one pair of blue jeans can look pretty much like another. His long dark hair was tied back in a low ponytail at the base of his neck, somehow making his angular, handsome features all the more sharp. He smiled back at me, and for a moment I forgot to say anything.
“I hope the tribal police didn’t give you any trouble?” he said, filling the gap I’d left easily enough. Today just so happened to be one of the Pueblo’s two feast days, the only time during the year that it wasn’t open to the public. The stores and museum were closed, and those seeking to soak in the community’s history, arts, and crafts would have to wait a couple of days.
“Thankfully, no. I didn’t even see any on the highway. I’m sorry to intrude on your feast day. We don’t have to do this today if you don’t want to. I can come back later in the week, or next week.”
“Nonsense,” he said, stepping outside the gate and closing it behind him. Apparently, I wasn’t going to get to peer into his life too closely on this trip. “We have some walking to do,” he added, glancing briefly at my feet. But not so briefly that I didn’t notice the glance.
Smirking, I lifted a foot and held it out for inspection. “Sensible, as requested.” I couldn’t keep the hint of sass out of my voice, but he didn’t seem offended. More amused than anything, really.
“Didn’t mean anything by it. Come on, we can walk and talk.” He motioned for me to come with him and started walking down the drive past his truck, turning right eventually and starting to walk farther down the road. I went with him.
“Just so you know, I told people where I was going, so if you’re planning to lure me out into the woods and axe me you’ll have to be really careful about covering your tracks if you want to avoid prison time.”
He laughed again, a quiet rumble from deep in his chest. “Thanks for the warning. I’m too pretty for prison,” he joked, glancing up at the sky. Or, rather at the thick blanket of gray clouds that blocked the view of the sky.
I snickered softly, casting my gaze down the muddy road as we walked. “So, where are we going and why are we walking?” I kept my hands tucked in my pockets for warmth. It was cold enough that every exhale resulted in a puff of moist air.
“A good walk can clear the mind and purify the spirit,” he said, suddenly sounding like some sort of tribal elder. He didn’t look the part, couldn’t have been much older than my twenty-eight years. “But really, not even my truck can get us where we need to go.” He glanced at me with another smile.
“So, does that make this some kind of spirit walk?” I arched a brow.
He laughed, shaking his head. “I meant more in the literal sense. Kassidy’s home is tucked away down an old game trail. It’s too narrow for a vehicle to pass. She likes her solitude. In nicer weather, you could ride a bike, but today…” he gestured around at the snowy landscape. “I don’t recommend it.”
“Oh.” I felt my cheeks pinken somewhat. “So, this Kassidy is the person you wanted me to meet?”
“Yes. She is… a singular woman. You’ll see.”
We made idle chit-chat the rest of the way. It must have been at least a mile on foot, over some tricky terrain thanks to ice and snow. John was sure-footed all the way, always with a quick hand ready to catch me if I stumbled over a rock or slipped on a slick patch of ice. I don’t know quite what I expected to find at the other end of our journey… Okay, that’s not true. I knew exactly what I expected to find: some ancient, crumbling adobe or sweat lodge in the middle of nowhere. Instead, it was an honest-to-goodness log cabin. The cabin was fairly small, maybe nine-hundred square feet total with enough room for one or two bedrooms depending on how large the common area was.
John led the way up the stairs out front. They were treated concrete, the sort that won’t ice over, and judging from the layers of snow our shoes crunched into, no one had been up or down them for a while.
“Are you sure she’s here?” I asked. There wasn’t even a puff of smoke from either of the chimneys.
“Oh yes, she’s always here.” He flashed me a reassuring smile as he walked across the little porch in front and knocked lightly on the door. Even the welcome mat was covered in snow.
From the other side of the door, a woman’s voice called, “Come in!”
John stomped his feet outside before opening the door and stepping inside. I followed his lead, comforted—if confused—by the warm air that greeted us. It was downright cozy inside the cabin, and I closed the door quickly behind me to keep the heat from escaping. Inside, the cabin had a sort of rustic-meets-homey vibe. Wood-paneled walls contrasted sharply with light airy curtains and woven throw rugs. There was a fire in the fireplace, the source of the room’s heat. But there was something unnatural about it: it was magical in nature. I could see the matrix of the spell flickering amongst the green-tinted flames. I’d never seen anything like it. Magic could be used to start a fire, just like a match or flint and tinder. It was about generating that first spark. This was something else entirely, and it distracted me until I heard a throat clear and tore my eyes away in search of the woman we’d come to see.
&
nbsp; The only other person in the room besides myself and John was a young woman who didn’t even look old enough to drink. Legally, anyway. She was sitting at a desk with two computer monitors on it but had swiveled in her plush desk chair to look over at us as we entered. She wasn’t even Indian, which surprised me. I was sure we were still on Pueblo lands, and they’re strict about who they allow to settle in their territory. The left side of her face was an unattractive mass of scar tissue that crept up into her red hair, but her blue eyes were clear and friendly.
“Kassidy,” John said. “This is the woman I told you about.”
“Emily Davenport.” Kassidy studied me with open curiosity. “Of the Davenport coven, yes? From Boston?” She had a very formal way of speaking, and her voice bore a soft Irish lilt.
If I stared, it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that she’d had half her face melted at some point or that she was living in the middle of nowhere with mysterious magic fire and a dual 32-inch monitor setup that’d make Matt squee. It was the fact that—as far as I could tell—she didn’t have a lick of magic in her that threw me for a loop.
“Yes,” I said belatedly. “I mean, sort of. It’s a long story.”
“Well, I’ve got time.” She smiled. “John, why don’t you take Emily’s coat and make us some tea? You do like tea, don’t you Emily?”
“Yes,” I answered, reaching up automatically to unbutton my coat and letting John slip it from my shoulders. I didn’t even pay attention to what he did with it afterward. He could’ve fed it to the magic flames, and I wouldn’t have noticed. Absently, I pulled off my hat and stuffed my gloves in it so I wouldn’t lose them. I held on to those, drifting a little farther into the room. “You’re… not what I expected.”
“Thanks,” the other woman said, with an impish gleam in her bright blue eyes. “Have a seat. I know you have questions.”
I did. So many, in fact, that I wasn’t sure quite where to start.