“Your night sounds rather challenging,” Fredi drawled. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Suffering Circe! Fredi, you don’t believe me, do you?”
“Estele, I believe some of it. You mentioned some weird stuff. The hellacious fart smell? I’m hoping it’s a case of embarrassing misunderstanding and not that Hades has busted its front gate and accidently released its wickedest inmates.”
Val shrugged. “It wasn’t me. I’m under a candor spell. If I did it I’d have to say so.”
“Ooh, who’s Mr. Velvet Voice?” Fredi’s tone instantly softened.
“That’s the brujo!” Estele grew more excited as she spoke. “Fredi, meet Valentine Del Toro. He’s an abracadabra with a saber.”
“Alquimista de sabor,” Val gently corrected Estele. “An alchemist of flavor.”
“A food wizard?” Fredi almost shrieked. “Oh my Goddess, I’ve always wanted to meet one of you guys! This is so exciting. Where did you do your apprenticeship?”
At least Fredi seemed impressed with him. Too bad Estele didn’t feel the same way. “The highlands of Oaxaca,” he said softly.
Fredi squealed with delight. “My grandparents are from Oaxaca! The food is good, isn’t it? Do you know how to make the seven molés sauces?”
He mustered his most dignified tone. “Yes, I do.”
“I can’t wait to tell Gus. I’ve turned him into a molé addict.”
Estele spoke loudly. “Fredi, I’m going to interrupt to ask you directly, can you help me break Sidhe’s candor enchantment or not?”
Fredi paused. “It depends how the enchantment was cast.”
“Val got a double dose. The first was slipped into a Cuban mojito and the second was a concentrate from a vial that I dripped onto some wintergreen gum.”
“Both were minty products?” Fredi sounded all business.
“Yes,” Estele said.
“Well then you’re going have to use mint to counteract the spell. Treat like with like.”
Estele’s brows met. “Fredi, don’t force me to figure it out. I might screw it up. Just tell me exactly what to do and I’ll do it.”
Fredi spoke slowly and clearly. “You’re already at Liquor King, right? Pick up a bottle of peppermint schnapps, or a box of chocolate peppermint patties, and cast a hex-vex-redirect on it. Just don’t overdo it.”
Clapping her hands, Estele cheered. “Fredi, you’re a genius!”
“Thank you, I do my best. There’s something else you said that was odd.”
“Gosh.” Estele fussed with the strap on her shoe. “I say a lot of odd things. Which one are you referring to?”
“You said the dark force took the shape of a bull and overwhelmed your car?”
Estele drew her purse protectively under her arm “Yeah, I did.”
“Well doesn’t ‘Del Toro’ mean bull?”
“Oh, you’re right.” Estele wrinkled her nose. “Wow, Fredi, I just got the chills.”
“That means the dark force or whatever it was you encountered at the fairgrounds knows Val’s name. It might have been a taunt.”
Estele glanced at Val. “Fredi’s right. How do you explain that?”
The knowledge that he was way out of his depth sank in and struck his confidence hard. “I can’t.”
Slipping the key out of the ignition, Estele dropped the key ring into her purse. “Thanks, Fredi. I’m going to sign off and go inside the store.”
“I hope what I had to say will be useful. Call me tomorrow if you need me. Good night.” Fredi hung up.
Estele dropped her phone into her purse. “See what I mean about Fredi being smart? She’s sort of my guiding light. I want to be just like her when I grow up.”
Val looked at her liquid eyes and delicate face. “Estele, you are a grown woman.”
“I meant when my magic matures. I’d like to be more helpful and less dreadful to the general public.”
He thought about her statement. She didn’t look like public enemy number one. Why would she refer to herself that way? What had the poor girl done to cause such a lack of self-confidence? “It will come with time.”
Her stomach growled. “Oops.” She patted her belly. “It sounds like an angry raccoon.”
Val laughed. “I’m hungry too. I see a market across the street. Why don’t I get some groceries and make us dinner?”
She blinked. “You’d cook for me? Wow, okay. This is sort of a first.”
Leaning into the back seat, he grabbed the duffel bag and unzipped it.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He reached into the bag, dug deep, and pulled out a gray-green bundle of twigs lashed together with white thread.
She stared in confusion. “Please tell me that’s not dinner.”
“It’s not.” He lifted the bundle to eye level. “It’s a sage wand. We’ve had a brush with dark forces. Before we go near others, I’m going to cleanse us. The smoke will release any lingering evil residues and neutralize the brimstone odor.”
“I’m all for that.” She depressed the car’s lighter, waited for it to heat, and handed it to Val. “Light up. My grandmother burned sage too. Every time she and my mother had a fight, she’d smudge the house. A lot of sage got burned. I think she bundled dried lavender into the mix too.”
Val held the red-hot lighter to the dry sage and blew on it. The embers lit immediately and glowed orange at the tip. He mumbled a few sacred words while fanning a cloud of fragrant white smoke in her face.
Coughing, Estele drew back. “Boy, that wad of twigs puts out heaps of smoke.”
“It’s balancing.” He waved the smoldering wand over her head and around her shoulders. “I gathered and dried the leaves myself.” He puffed on the sage. Copious amounts of smoke billowed into the air. The interior of the VW filled with an opaque haze.
Glancing over Estele’s shoulder, he saw someone walking toward them. Seen only in silhouette, a large man approached the car and rapped his knuckles on the window.
Estele rolled the window down and gasped a breath of fresh air. “Hello, Officer.”
The police officer was a young, clean-cut man. His nostrils flared as he leaned closer. “What are you smoking?”
She answered with confidence. “Officer, we’re not smoking. We’re smudging away the evil that stunk us up at the fairgrounds.”
“Seriously?” The officer wrinkled his nose as he tugged on a pair of disposable gloves. “May I see what you’re ‘not’ smoking?”
Val handed the officer the sage wand.
The officer sniffed it. “Whatever. It smells harmless, but you are parked in front of a public no-smoking zone. Would you please extinguish the ‘smudge’ and move on? The owner of the liquor store has already received a complaint.” He returned the wand to Val.
Estele smiled at the policeman. “Thank you.” The moment the officer walked away, she rolled up the window and turned toward Val. “If you’re going to make us dinner, why don’t we go straight to the market? I can buy peppermint patties there, or Thin Mints.” A dreamy expression washed over her. “Or chocolate mint ice cream. Honestly, I could have ice cream for dinner and be totally okay with it.”
“Don’t you need to buy rum?”
“Damn. I almost forgot about the captain. He’s probably rooting through my underwear drawer right now.”
“What?” He had no idea what she was talking about and was beginning to question the whole ally-prophecy thing in general. “Who’s the captain?”
“Never mind.” She reinserted the key into the ignition and turned the engine over. It chirped. Estele put the car in reverse and did a haphazard three-point turn out of the parking lot. Stomping on the gas, she drove over a row of cement berms, then crossed a double yellow line, interrupting two fast-moving lanes of traffic as they poured off the freeway.
His mouth gaped in a silent scream. The headlights of oncoming cars swerving to avoid a collision left him paralyzed. Car horns blared their disap
proval. He sank lower in the seat. “You just did a highly illegal maneuver in front of a cop! What were you thinking?”
She pulled into the market’s parking lot and checked the rearview mirror. “The policeman’s gone. I don’t see him. Why is everybody honking?”
With eyes closed, he willed himself to not yell in her face, “What the hell is wrong with you?” Since he was a boy, he’d always been the serious student and champion of order and tradition in a chaotic world. Why had fate paired him with Estele? Yes, she was super cute, but she was also a disaster ready to implode. Could this be a test?
Opening the car door, he stood slowly on stiff legs. He was far too big for her damn car.
Estele got out of the VW and strolled toward the market’s automatic doors.
He followed. A burst of cool air greeted them.
Once inside the store, she looked around. “This isn’t my regular market, but I’m pretty sure they have a liquor department.” Glancing at him, she paused. “Do you need a basket?”
There was a row of carts jammed together. Taking hold of one, he fought to break it loose from the pack.
“Are you going to shop shop?” Her brow rose. “Should I just go and get what I need?”
Struggling to compose himself and his conflicted feelings, he shook his head. “We better stick together.”
“Okay, caballero.” She shrugged. “But it would be a lot faster to do our errands separately.”
He pushed the cart down the first aisle. “More dangerous too.”
Her hand brushed the cart. “How so?”
Before he spoke, he took a look around to make no one was within earshot. “My best guess is we’re only half a mile from the fairgrounds.” He pointed to the floor. “The bubble of malevolence is practically under our feet. Just because we don’t see anything out of the ordinary doesn’t mean it’s not there and we’re safe.”
She hunted through her purse, looking for something. “What are you expecting to happen?”
Good question. What did he expect? “I don’t know.”
“Let’s start with an easier question.” She steered the cart into another aisle. “What are you making for dinner?”
“What sort of kitchen do you have?”
Estele picked up a box of kids’ cereal and read the label. “Oh it’s a gorgeous kitchen. Steel appliances and black granite countertops. There’s a nice view of the ocean as well.”
“I meant what sort of equipment have you got?”
“A coffeemaker, a cookie sheet, forks, spoons, a couple steak knives, bowls, and a large saucepan.”
“That’s it?”
“Oops, I forgot the blender. That’s all I need. I don’t really cook.”
He was scandalized. He had no idea what to prepare and decided he’d better keep it simple. “What do you want?”
“After being chased by a smoke demon, comfort food sounds good.”
She eyed all the junky kids’ treats in the aisle, and for some reason it made him grin. “What’s your idea of comfort food? Please don’t say Froot Loops.”
“My grandmother used to make me a big bowl of pozole after school. I loved it.”
Estele looked so wistful as she said it, his heart opened to her just a bit more. He loved his grandmother too. She was an excellent cook and his inspiration for his current career as an alquimista de sabor. “You love your grandmother, don’t you?”
“I did. I do.” Her chin dipped. “My abuela Lena raised me. She passed away almost three years ago and I’ve sort of been drifting since.” She huffed a deep breath. “Not that I wasn’t drifting before.”
“Things could get better.”
“Yeah, right. I’m psychic, you know. I can clearly see what’s right or wrong for others and if their relationships are going to pan out or not. It never fails, except where my own life is concerned. I have zero inner guidance. It’s like I’m living inside one big blind spot.”
Estele brushed her fingertips across the tattoos that covered one arm. “After my grandmother passed, the grief was bad. She was like my mother, roommate, and best friend rolled into one. All of a sudden I was on my own. I wanted her with me, always, so I got her story tattooed on my arm.” She pointed. “See those dates hidden inside the heart? Each of those is important. All the magical symbols stand for the sort of beneficent magic she practiced. Lena always thought Betty Paige was so pretty, so I even started wearing my hair like Betty. After a lot of pain and effort, the memorial sleeve was finished. Only then I remembered that my abuela hated tattoos.” She threw her hands into the air. “See what I mean? I’m hopeless.”
“But you did it from your heart, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re definitely not wrong or hopeless. It’s just how you do things.” He paused. “By the way, I’m making pozole for dinner.”
A sun-bright smile burst across her face. “Thank you. I’d love that.”
Impulsively, he rolled up his sleeve and displayed his pinup girl. “As you can see, I’m proud of my ink. No judgment from me.”
Estele studied the portrait of his “ally.” “Excellent work. The artist is so talented.” She leaned closer. “What do the initials E.E.E. stand for?”
“Initials?” Val looked down to see what she was talking about. Shocked, he saw the script letters E.E.E. clearly displayed across his pinup girl’s snug blouse. He’d spent countless hours gazing at the damn tattoo and had never seen them. “What the—” He stared, then licked his finger and tried to rub the letters away. They didn’t smear. “Those weren’t there this morning. I’ll be damned. What’s going on?”
“Oh well.” Estele rolled her eyes. “E.E.E. is not so bad. I can think of worse initials to have tattooed on my skin. Just to put it in perspective, it could have been P.U.”
He turned the cart down a so-called international foods aisle stocked with ramen noodles and soy sauce. “I’m looking for hominy.”
She pointed to a bottom shelf. “They sell it in sixty-four-ounce cans.”
The monster-sized can was loaded into the cart. “Too bad we’re not cooking for a school cafeteria. I wonder if they sell aluminum soup pots here.”
“I’m sure they do in the baking supply aisle.”
Squatting, he took hold of the can and hefted it into the cart. “Where’s the spice aisle?”
With eyes bulged, she looked blank. “I have no idea.”
Estele wasn’t even trying to be logical or helpful. She tested his patience, so he decided to test her. “Are you sure? Think about it. Use your skills.”
A more serious expression crossed her face. She closed her eyes and appeared to tune in to her thoughts. “Aisle four. They have soup pots too. I saw them in my mind’s eye.”
“Good work.” A sense of relief washed over him. Maybe there was a way to tap into Estele’s latent talents. “You answered too quickly the first time. Slow down and check in with yourself.”
An uneasy laugh burst free of her. “Yeah, right. People are going to wait for me to come to a decision? I don’t think so.”
“Why not? Especially if you’re right.” He turned down aisle four. “Look.” He pointed to a display of cookware. “Soup pots and spices. Proof you know what you’re doing.”
“Cool.” She appeared unsettled by her success, and he couldn’t figure out why.
He selected the largest lidded pot and headed toward the spices. Colorful bags of dried chilies, ground cumin, and oregano were tossed into the cart. It was safe to assume she didn’t have anything on hand, so he added a few staples. Pushing the cart further down the aisle, he stopped to pick up several cartons of chicken stock. “I prefer to make it from scratch, but what the hell. This is a comfort food emergency. I need carrots and onions too.”
Estele pointed over her shoulder. “That way.”
“Psychic guess?”
“No. I saw stacks of produce.”
He steered the basket toward pyramids of cantaloupes and limes and added some
fresh fruit to the cart. Onions, carrots, fresh garlic, and cilantro were selected next.
She grinned. “Looks so homey, like real grocery shopping should. My basket never looks like that.”
“I need a few more things. What about breakfast?”
Surprise registered on her face. “What about it?”
“We’ll be hungry in the morning, and I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a tough day. Another trip to the fairgrounds. More recon. I should get some eggs.”
“Eggs? I usually just have coffee, which I have plenty of.” She glanced up at him. “You’re really spending the night at my house?”
“Yes. For your protection.”
She scanned the contents of the cart. “Gosh, we’re buying a lot of stuff. If you’re going to make pozole, don’t forget the carnitas. We should swing by the butcher case.”
“Point the way.”
Standing at the front of the cart, she pulled it toward the back of the store like a tugboat guiding a cargo ship safely into harbor. “Ah, the liquor aisle. I’ll get some rum.”
He reached for a quality brand. “Dark, white, spiced rum?”
“I don’t think it matters.” She shrugged. “It’s not for drinking. The captain’s only going to sniff it.”
Sniff it? What the hell was that about? “Okay. You choose.”
She selected a pint bottle and added it to the rest of their groceries. “Let’s get the dark.”
He was unclear on who this person was and it occurred to him that it might turn into a security problem. “Who is the captain?”
“My roommate.”
“Trustworthy?”
“Not a bit. I can’t turn my back on my things for a minute, but he is sort of sweet.”
The captain’s presence, whoever he was, was an added complication in an already tricky situation. Why had he not considered this obstacle sooner? “How will the captain react to you bringing me home?”
“He’ll be shocked of course. The captain’s old-school.”
He smelled the unmistakable ammonia-tinged scent of seafood long before he saw it. At this time of night in a neighborhood market, the selections were picked over. Several whole sea bass lay across the shaved ice, their glassy eyes staring into space. The butcher’s case had empty spots. A whole pig’s head sat on a tray with its snout open as if it were grinning.
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