While I made the coffee, Tori plopped down on the sagging sofa and watched. Think of our storeroom as the “mini” lair. We still use the space for coffee breaks and lunches. It also houses Rodney’s apartment, which sits tucked away behind two huge liniment cans on the back wall.
Originally, Rodney lived in what would technically be termed a “cage,” but none of us liked that word or its implications. Rodney is family. Now he lives in a two-story custom-built bachelor pad.
We found a guy online who did everything to spec, including the big picture window in the “living room” and a staircase leading up to the sleeping loft. The exercise wheel sits on the roof-top terrace adjacent to a hammock strung between two fake palm trees.
The front wall snaps off so we can assist Rodney with his housecleaning. His water bottle attaches to the back out of sight and emerges in the living room as the spout of a wall-mounted fountain.
It didn’t seem fair to give Glory an iPod Touch big screen and not supply one for Rodney as well. Since Glory visits sometimes, we added a miniature sectional with recliners on either end.
Because most of our group activities have moved downstairs, we offered to put Rodney’s quarters on a shelf adjacent to Glory’s place. He’s considering the move, but I think he likes his privacy.
We did cut a special door for him in the baseboard right beside the basement entrance. It’s hidden behind a shelf of second-hand books so he can come and go undetected — and so the customers in the espresso bar won’t freak out if they see him.
After I had handed Tori a mug of steaming coffee, I made one for myself. Normally, Rodney would have retired to his room or curled himself around one of our necks for a nap. This time, however, he sat on the back of the sofa just over Tori’s shoulder. His body language screamed, “I’m waiting, and it better be good.”
My narrative took the long way around getting to the point. When I finished the story of the dragonlets stealing things in Shevington, Tori said, “So that’s why you went to the Valley?”
“Uh, no,” I said, “I had some business at the stables.”
She frowned. “You went to see if the unicorn had foaled? You don’t even like unicorns that much.”
“I don’t not like the unicorns,” I said defensively. “Who can not like unicorns?”
“So that’s why you went up there in the middle of the night?”
“Not exactly,” I hedged again.
“Then how about you tell me exactly why you did go sneaking out of the lair after you made sure we were all sound asleep and . . . ”
Tori was biting into a chocolate chip cookie as she talked. She froze in mid-sentence, and her eyes grew round and shocked. “Oh my God,” she gasped. “It wasn’t a dream. The aleuromancy worked through the cookies.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” I said.
“These are the cookies Darby made from the flour Mom and I were experimenting with,” she said.
“Yeah, so what?”
“After I ate them and fell asleep, I had a dream you went to Shevington to meet your brother. That’s it, isn’t it?” she asked.
There wasn’t much I could do but nod numbly. While I’m the first to say I think cookies are a religious experience, I never expected chocolate chip clairvoyance.
“So tell me everything,” Tori said, making a point of biting into another cookie. “And if you leave anything out, I’ll know.”
Since I don’t know a thing about vision-inducing flour, I took her at her word and came clean about sneaking up on Connor. Then I described the arrival of Lucas Grayson and Rube.
“A DGI agent?” Tori said skeptically. “Did he show you a badge or some ID or something?”
“No,” I admitted, “but Rube is friends with Festus.”
“Like that’s some recommendation,” Tori said. “I can’t believe you didn’t think to get a picture of this guy.”
A light went off in my head. “I didn’t get a picture of him,” I said, digging in my pocket for my phone, “but I think I did get one of Connor.”
Sure enough, there he was, in perfect profile against the backdrop of the mountains. When I handed the phone to Tori, she let out a low whistle, turning the screen so Rodney could get a look as well.
“Big brother is a hunk,” she said appreciatively, pinching the screen with two fingers to enlarge the image. Her eyes went wide again. “Let me revise my opinion. Big brother is a major hunk.”
“He is?” I asked, taking the phone back and staring at the screen, trying to get my head wrapped around the idea I could be related to a drool-worthy guy.
“Uh, yeah,” Tori said. “So when do I meet him?”
That touched off a recitation of the events of the second part of the evening, that ended with, “And I don’t know how the Mother Tree thinks we’re going to find out what really happened to those girls.”
“Well, for starters,” Tori said, “we go up to the scene of the wreck. Then we see if we can find the car.”
“After all these years?” I said. “There is no way that car still exists.”
“Don’t be so sure, Jinksy,” she said. “You know how people around here can be about legendary crashes. Sometimes those cars sit around in junkyards for decades with people still gawking at them.”
As macabre as it sounds, she was right. I knew one family who kept their deceased son’s mangled Mustang behind their barn. His mother told my mother they couldn’t bear to part with anything that belonged to him, including the machine that killed him.
“Okay,” I said, “let’s get this paranormal festival over with, and then we’ll get started on the mystery of the wreck. I hate to do it, but we’ll have to ask the moms to take us up to the exact spot.”
“No, we won’t,” Tori said. “I’ve already done that. Mom showed me the crash site a couple of weeks after they told us about it the first time.”
It was my turn at minorly hurt feelings. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
“Mom asked me not to,” Tori replied. “She didn’t want to risk it coming up around Kelly and upsetting her.”
That I understood completely. Anytime we’re forced to talk about the accident, all the color drains out of mom’s face and her hands tremble. Even if she has embraced her true nature again, she still blames herself for the death of those two girls. Finding out the truth wouldn’t just set Connor free; it would free our mother as well.
“Okay,” I said. “Then we’re set.”
Tori looked doubtful. “Are you sure we can pull this off?”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s not like the Strigoi are going to come into town and cause us any trouble in the next few days.
Yeah.
File that one under. “Famous Last Words.”
13
“Anton, I fear that your personal desire for vengeance is clouding your judgment.”
Ionescu shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He reached for the cigar smoldering in the ashtray on the table beside him and drew deeply until the tip of the hand-rolled tobacco glowed cherry red. Exhaling a cloud of the fragrant smoke, he said, “You are mistaken, Irenaeus.”
“I am rarely mistaken,” Chesterfield said, eyeing his attorney over the rim of a crystal brandy glass. “You have told your people that Kelly Hamilton broke the agreement and visited the Valley before you hired Malcolm Ferguson to kill her. That is not true.”
“My people will believe what I tell them to believe,” Ionescu said. “If I say the truce has been broken, it has been broken.”
Reaching for his own cigar, Chesterfield said, “You forget that I am conversant in the ways of the Strigoi. If your clan discovers your deception, the curse becomes null and void. They will no longer be honor bound to seek revenge on your behalf for the deaths of your daughter and your niece.”
“Seraphina and Ioana,” Ionescu said tightly. “Their names are Seraphina and Ioana.”
“Which I believe they Americanized as Sally Beth and Jo Anne in their desire to distance themselv
es from their heritage,” Chesterfield said. “Am I not correct?”
Ionescu flushed. “They were young. They had not yet accepted the strictures of our lives. It was a mistake to allow them to attend the human school.”
“Where they crossed paths with a fledgling witch and an immature alchemist,” Chesterfield said, cradling the brandy snifter in his hand. “Quite the stuff of drama.”
At the taunting words, Ionescu turned almost purple with rage. “How dare you make light of the deaths of my children.” he said. As he spoke, every light bulb in the room shattered, plunging the two men into semi-darkness relieved only by the wavering glow of the fire.
Chesterfield casually raised his hand and snapped his fingers, lighting the tall candles housed in sconces on the walls. “And that would rather prove my point, would it not, dear Anton?” he said, reaching for the cigar again. “You have difficulty controlling your temper. There is a larger purpose to our dealings. Your only job is to lure the boy, Connor, from the safe confines of the Valley. When I ransom him for a living branch of the Mother Tree, you will get what you seek, and you will be free to do as you please with the Hamilton woman, but you are not to kill her daughter. Do you understand?”
Laboring to bring his anger under control, Ionescu said, “Yes, Irenaeus. I understand.”
“Look, Scrap, you’ve got to understand,” Jeff said. “Gemma didn’t want to drop this thing on you for good reasons.”
Scrap Andrews used his fork to push the food around on his plate. He didn’t look up when he asked, “How am I supposed to live with a witch?”
“Gemma isn’t a witch,” Jeff said. “She’s an Alchemist.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
Jeff shoved his cap back and let his hand drop to rest on the head of his best fishing dog, Bobber. “No, you moron, it’s not the same thing,” he said. “Gemma’s more like a magical scientist. I’m the one living with the witch.”
The attempt at levity failed. Unable to force himself to eat, Scrap offered his plate to Bobber, who happily ambled over and started licking the tin clean.
“Quit spoiling my dogs,” Jeff said.
“I will,” Scrap said, “when you quit buying them sausage biscuits over at Sonic.”
Jeff grinned. “You forgot to mention the ice cream cones.”
Both men laughed. “A man’s got a right to spoil his dogs and his children,” Jeff said. “Have you stopped to think what this nonsense is doing to your girl? Have you talked to her yet?”
Scrap picked up a stick and poked at the fire. “No,” he said. “She quit trying to get ahold of me.”
“And how does that make you feel?” Jeff asked.
Jabbing at the coals with more vehemence, Scrap said, “You know damn good and well how it makes me feel, so back off already.”
“I can’t do that, Scrap,” Jeff said, taking a fifth of bourbon out of his backpack. “The women sent me out here to talk some sense into you.”
“Figured it was something like that,” Scrap said. “Save your breath and your whiskey. Neither one are gonna work.”
“Well, how about we have a drink anyway and you let me tell you a story,” Jeff replied, pouring a healthy stream of amber liquid into a battered cup.
“Fine,” Scrap said, accepting the drink, “but you won’t change my mind. Gemma lied to me. I can’t ever believe another word she says.”
Jeff leaned back in his camp chair. “I was pretty much that hard headed when Kelly and I met,” he said. “We were both enrolled over at the community college. She had ideas of working as a secretary, and I was learning to drive a truck. Took me asking three times to get her to go out with me.”
Scrap snorted. “Pickings must have been lean that year for a pretty woman like Kelly to take up with you.”
“Not just lean,” Jeff laughed, “bone dry. I found out about her powers after we’d been dating six months or so.”
“What happened?” Scrap asked, interested in spite of himself.
“The carnival was in town,” Jeff said, “and I was cutting up, showing off. I tripped and fell backward toward the Ferris wheel. Man, I thought I was a goner. I saw that next bucket coming right at me and then the whole thing just stopped an inch from my face. Nobody needed to tell me to scramble the hell out of there. I looked over at Kelly and she had her fist out in front of her like she was holding something. The minute she saw I was okay, she let go, and that Ferris wheel started turning again.”
Scrap stared at him. “A little thing like Kelly held a Ferris wheel still?”
“She did,” Jeff said, “and then she burst into tears and ran as far away from me as she could get. When I caught up with her and got her to calm down, she told me everything, including how she thought she and Gemma accidentally killed two cheerleaders in high school . . . ”
At that, Scrap interrupted forcefully. “See?!” he exclaimed. “I told you this stuff is dangerous.”
“Hold your horses,” Jeff said. “I talked to the Sheriff about that wreck. Kelly has been blaming herself for years, but the front axle on that car was bad. If it hadn’t been raining, the kid doing the driving might have been able to get the car stopped safely, but on that wet road, she lost control.”
“How do you know magic didn’t wear the metal in two?” Scrap argued. “You just told me Kelly held a Ferris wheel in place.”
Jeff shook his head. “You sound like Kelly. Bound and determined to find the worse possible explanation. Can I get on with my story?”
The other man waved his hand. “Go on. I’m listening.”
“I was so head over heels in love with Kelly I couldn’t have cared less if she was a witch,” he said. “She took me to . . . where her people are from, and I liked everyone I met. Even went fishing up there. Dang trout had attitude.”
Scrap frowned. “Isn’t Kelly from Briar Hollow?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah,” Jeff said, “these were some of her folks who lived way up in the mountains. Kind of . . . backcountry. Anyway, you remember when we got married? You were in the wedding.”
“Yeah,” Scrap said, “and I can’t tell you how much I didn’t love that baby blue tux.”
“So anyway, everything was good with us, just like it was with you and Gemma,” Jeff said. “And then Kelly got pregnant.”
Scrap shifted uneasily. “You don’t have to talk about little Connor if you don’t want to,” he said. “What happened with him dying of crib death like that was just awful.”
“My son didn’t die of crib death,” Jeff said, staring into the fire. “He didn’t die at all. The father of one of those girls is another kind of magical being. He put a curse on Kelly. The only way we could save the boy’s life was to send him to live with Kelly’s people in that place I was telling you about. He’s still there. All grown up. Thirty-two years old.”
Both men sat quietly drinking their whiskey and watching the fire until Scrap broke the silence. “She made you give up your baby, and you stayed with her?”
“Scrap,” Jeff whispered hoarsely, “you really can be a hard-headed idiot sometimes. Kelly didn’t make me give up my son. Their world runs on a different set of rules. This was the only way he’d be safe and alive, the only way he’d have a life. They tell me he’s a good man, works with animals.”
“And you’ve never met him because of magic,” Scrap said hotly.
“Most likely, magic will be the very thing that brings him back to me some day,” Jeff said. “Our girls are like their mothers, and you know neither one of our babies would harm a living soul. Are you going to sit there and tell me you’re prepared to lose your wife and daughter just because you’re too scared to open your eyes and see there’s more to this world than we thought?”
Scrap tossed the stick he’d been fiddling with throughout their conversation into the fire sending up a cloud of sparks. “It’s not that I’m not willing to think there’s more to Creation,” he said. “How am I supposed to go on living with a woman who lied to
me?”
“I don’t know, Scrap,” Jeff said. “How are you supposed to live without her?”
“Festus is right,” Barnaby said, looking at Chase over the chessboard sitting between them. “Living without the woman you love is worse. He and I both have buried our wives. I don’t say that to diminish your pain over what has happened with Jinx, but only to encourage you to make the best of the reality of your situation.”
Chase studied the pieces on the board and moved his knight before answering. “Is that what they’re doing?” he said, gesturing toward the surface of the inland sea lit by the rays of the waxing moon. “Making the best of their situation?”
“The merfolk?” Barnaby asked. “Yes, they are rather amazing in their approach to life. While they mourn the pollution of the seas that have been their home, they are determined to preserve their race and culture.”
On the other side of the fire, Moira looked up from her book. “For a people so reclusive in their habits,” she said, “they have cultivated an exceptionally synthetic world view. They lament the destruction the humans are visiting upon the earth, but they are not willing to sacrifice themselves to it.”
“Are they abandoning the oceans?” Chase asked, shifting to look at her.
“No,” Moira said. “They will still patrol their home waters and assist the animal friends they leave behind. The portal will be available to them at all times.”
“Are they sad?” Chase asked, watching as Barnaby slid his bishop forward.
“Extremely,” the wizard said, “as are you. I would be very worried about them and you if that were not the case.”
As Chase reached for his rook, Moira sat up abruptly in her chair. The movement caused Barnaby to turn toward her. “What is it?” he asked.
“Jinx is in the Valley,” she said. “The Mother Oak believes she means to approach Connor.”
“She must be stopped,” Barnaby said.
“The Oak will handle the situation,” Moira said, still listening. “She will speak with Jinx.”
Chase stood up. “I think I should get back to Shevington,” he said.
Witch on Second: A Jinx Hamilton Mystery Book 5 (The Jinx Hamilton Novels) Page 10