“That’s kind of creepy,” said Sparkle.
“Is he going to faint?” said Poppy.
Leo dropped his curtain rod and caught Devon just as his knees sagged and he tumbled toward the ground. Carefully, he sat Devon on one of the patio chairs and kept a hand on his shoulder, keeping him propped up.
I ran to the sagging body, frantic with worry. Grabbed his hand. What was going on in there?
Finally, his eyelids fluttered and he opened them. “Holy Beedlezeth and Lucibub,” the demon said. “What did you say you did?”
“An invisibility hex? Accidentally. Did you…?”
He nodded. “I got it off. But that was strong. Don’t do that again, okay?”
“I won’t,” I promised. “Not to a person, anyway.” I realized I was holding Hudzeth’s hand again, and let go. “Is Devon okay?”
“He is,” Hudzeth said. “But I had to knock him out to remove the hex. He’s sleeping it off.”
I stood, eyes narrowing. “That’s awfully convenient. Exactly when do you think he’s going to wake up?”
Hudzeth brushed this aside. “This wasn’t in some grand master plan,” he said grumpily. “It’s much easier to get around if the host body is there to help you.”
“He’s not a host body, he’s—”
“I know, I know.” Hudzeth sighed. “He’ll be fine. Can I get going now?”
Protests rang out from all of us.
“I believe you agreed to answer some questions first,” said Sparkle. “To start with: Can you get Cam’s mother back?” I couldn’t believe Sparkle had asked that without asking about herself first.
“I cannot,” he said. He raised his hand, forestalling my cry of despair. “But she is alive, and I can take you to her if the right circumstances occur. And that’s all I’m allowed to say about that until the hexes are complete.” But hope flooded my bones. Even if the demon couldn’t get her, maybe I could. If I figured out the right circumstances, whatever they were. “What else did you want to know?”
“Sarmine wasn’t the only one affected by that hex, right?” said Poppy. “I want you to stop it. Before it gets to my mother. And, uh, Sparkle.”
“And Cam,” said Sparkle.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Ah, that might be more difficult,” Hudzeth said. Regret tinged his voice … Devon’s voice.
“Why?”
“Demons are bound to their contracts,” he said simply. “I made this one a long time ago. I am compelled to finish it.”
We looked at each other. It sounded like Present Hudzeth might regret what Past Hudzeth had done. But apparently that didn’t matter.
“Look, you,” said Poppy in a dangerous tone. “Devon traded twenty-four hours to you for some help. And this is what you’ve got? You can’t get her mother and you can’t stop the hex?”
“Devon traded twenty-four hours for some questions,” said the demon. “And you’re not asking the right questions.”
We looked around at each other. What didn’t we know? Everything, really.
But the first point of order was to figure out if Malkin had started this, or somebody else.
“Who put you in that lamp?” I said.
“Malkin,” the demon said promptly.
“Okay then,” I said.
“And three other witches.”
“Wait, what?”
He raised a hand. “Before you ask, they were masked and it was thirteen years ago. I don’t know which three they were. But one had a dog.”
“Ingrid,” said Poppy.
“Ah, yes, with the house on the mountain?” said Hudzeth. “That was satisfying.” Right. This demon with my boyfriend’s smile had exploded Ingrid’s house. I leaned away from him. But he merely smiled cheerfully from the patio chair and said, “Next.”
Poppy studied him. “We’ve found a possible link between the werewolves and Sarmine,” she said. “And I’m told this coven has fractured several times over the treatment of Sentient Magicals.”
“That’s a missing link to Jim, too,” Sparkle put in. It always fazed me to hear her drawing on her memories from her previous life like that.
“Is that the larger issue here?” said Poppy. “Are we on the right track?”
“Very good,” said the demon. “Now ask me: Who has the most to gain if they get rid of everyone who opposes rights for Sentient Magicals?”
“Who has the most to gain?” I said dutifully.
He spread his hands. “Ah, that’s the catch, isn’t it?” Before Poppy could interject another scathing rebuke, he quickly continued, “Follow the money, see. Follow the power. Your father,” and he pointed at me, “was trying to protect the Sentient Magicals from Malkin and her followers. And there are four key groups of Sentient Magicals, at least out here in the Northwest. The shifters—that’s who Malkin was always after. The werewolves were controlled by that lady with the dog.…”
“Ingrid,” I said.
“That just leaves the river mermaids and the Bigfoots,” he said. “Find the witches who have such low ethics that they will divvy up actual people and you’ve got your four baddies.” He flashed Devon’s grin at us. “Now, I think that is in fact a bunch of answers. As soon as Devon wakes up, we have a lot to do—and so do you, because the three remaining witches will stop at nothing to get what they want. Come find us when you have their names.” The door banged closed behind him—behind them, really. For the next twenty-four hours, that body was plural.
I surveyed the wreckage of garage. Brooms and shovels ringed the cauldron. The votives had been scattered in the chaos, but I could still see the remnants of their circle.
“Those horrible, horrible—” Poppy broke off.
“Witches?” I said dryly. The demon’s reassurance that Sarmine was not dead was buoying me up. “Missing” was back to being a possibility. I could work with missing. I wouldn’t retire just yet. “Well, come on, how can we figure out the other two witches? Time to pull up your notebook app again.”
But Sparkle was looking ill. “I know one of them,” she said.
We whirled. “You do?” Poppy and I said simultaneously.
“You sent me out to Unicorn Guy’s house, remember?”
I did now. I had forgotten to ask about it. “What was his hex?” I said belatedly.
She shrugged. “I didn’t stay long enough to see. But what I did see—” She broke off, and swallowed. “A swimming pool,” she said finally. “He had just finished building a massive swimming pool in the field behind his house. He took me out on the back deck to show it off. I remember remarking that it was super deep. Good for diving, I said—only it was all finished and there was no diving board. I thought in the back of my mind that there was something else off about the pool, but I didn’t put it together.” She swallowed again. “The wall had no ladders.”
All four of us had the same expression of horror on our faces.
“He’s going to keep the mermaids there,” Leo said.
“Watch them,” Poppy said.
“But why now?” I said. “Why is he building this now? I haven’t seen mermaids in … Actually, I’ve never seen mermaids. Esmerelda had a single mermaid fin last November. I remember her saying they were hard to source.” I shuddered. The horror of it had kind of glossed over me when she said it. I mean, it was horrible, but I had kind of been thinking of mermaid fins in a hazy, something-that-had-happened-long-ago way. Some atrocity that happened in a different part of the globe. Not Unicorn Guy bringing mermaids right here to his paddock to … to keep like animals.
“He must expect to be gaining some very soon,” Sparkle said soberly.
It was all the more important that we find that fourth name and solve the puzzle of what the witches were up to.
“But who would be managing the Bigfoots?” said Poppy. “It could be any of them.”
“I know at least four witches who are interested in Bigfoot claws,” I said. “We saw them Saturday night at the pizza place, chasing t
hat poor piano player. The three Canadians and Claudette.”
“Probably not Fiona,” said Poppy, “because the hex already got her with that grizzly bear.”
That nudged a thought that had been lurking ever since the demon had said there were four witches behind the spell, not just one. “But, by that logic, how could Ingrid be one of the bad guys?” I said. “The hex already got her, too. She wouldn’t want her own house to be destroyed.”
Poppy let out an exasperated sigh. “I should have seen that.”
“Witches are always double-crossing people,” Sparkle pointed out. “Maybe one of the others turned on her.”
“She did look surprised,” I agreed.
“Malkin’s dead,” Poppy said. “Ingrid was supposed to be dead. Whoever’s left standing controls everything?”
“I’m the one who ate Malkin,” pointed out Leo.
“I wish you’d stop saying that,” I said.
“Unicorn Guy does not have the brains to mastermind anything,” Sparkle said positively.
“Or he wants you to believe that,” said Poppy.
“Have you met him?” said Sparkle.
“Claudette,” I said. “She’s near the end, and she is ice cold. I’d believe she could plot with her allies and then turn around and scheme to bump them off.”
Sparkle rose. There was purpose in her face. “I’m going back to Unicorn Guy’s house. He insinuated that he could use a partner in crime for some new venture. I’m going to see how much I can learn from him.”
“I’ll try to track down the piano player,” Leo volunteered.
But there was a flurry of noes at that.
“You’d be in danger,” I said.
“You’re too valuable to let anyone know what you are,” said Poppy.
“I let you help with the demon, but you’re not getting anywhere near that mind-reading witch,” said Sparkle.
“Let me?” Leo punched the air in frustration. “I can’t sit here and do nothing while you girls protect me all the time.”
There was a moment of silence. “I understand how that feels,” said Poppy softly.
“Poppy,” Sparkle said warningly.
“Look, Leo, there is something you can do,” Poppy said. “It is dangerous, but it won’t take you near Claudette. Your shifter skills might even come in handy.”
“Anything,” he said simply.
“When Cam and I escaped the explosion at Ingrid’s house, we rescued four puppies. Real puppies. But she escaped with two puppies that I don’t think are puppies at all.”
“Werewolves,” I said.
“People,” said Poppy.
“Kids,” said Leo. “Go on.”
“If her allies really did turn on her—or even if she just thinks they have—then she won’t have anywhere to go. I bet you anything she helicoptered home to her safe little mountaintop as soon as it stopped exploding. It’s four hours away, but … you have a car. I can give you the address.”
“A rescue mission,” said Leo. “Good.”
“She’ll see your car,” warned Sparkle.
“Hey, I can invisible that for you,” I said, waggling my eyebrows. “Permanently.”
Everyone laughed.
“How about a ‘do not notice’ spell?” said Poppy. “That I can take off later.”
“Sounds good,” said Leo. “I’ll take them back to my place and get Dad and Pops to puppysit.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Sparkle said, unable to stop herself.
Leo took her hands. “I don’t care,” he said. “I have to do something. This is even more important than the future mermaids. These are kids, Sparkle. And she’s got them right now.”
Sparkle’s shoulders were tight. Leo had come to her once, looking for help, glad of her power. She was glad to be the powerful one. But she couldn’t run everything for Leo. She had to step back and let him work, too. “I guess,” she said slowly. “I guess the puppies might trust a fellow puppy dog more.”
“I’m the perfect person for the job,” he said. “Besides, the dads are softies. They adopted me, you know.”
“Good point,” said Poppy.
That left the finding of Sam to us. I looked at Poppy. “Home first,” she said. “Mom thinks I’m at my regular after-school study club. If we don’t get those bikes home, she’ll confiscate my wand, and then I’ll be no good to anyone.”
“But…”
“We’ll sneak out tonight,” promised Poppy. “Somehow.”
* * *
We piled back into Ingrid’s SUV and dropped Leo and Sparkle off at Leo’s convertible at school, with strict admonitions to keep us updated on anything that happened.
Poppy had the bright idea that if we loaded our bikes into the SUV, we could get them and the SUV home, and then we could use the SUV to sneak out. We drove at bike speed the whole way, making sure Lily’s tracking device wouldn’t notice anything suspicious. Parked the car a couple blocks away and biked the rest of the way.
Lily and Wulfie met us in the backyard. She was throwing a tennis ball for Wulfie and coaching him to bring it back with his hands, not his teeth.
She stood up when we arrived. “Oh good,” she said. “Cam, can you take over this, please? And Poppy, can you make dinner for the three of you? I have … I have to go somewhere. I’ll be back by midnight.”
Poppy and I threw each other a glance. But all Poppy said was, “Hard to get anything done with a three-year-old around, isn’t it?”
Lily laughed. “True.”
We could see how it was. The lighter and airier Lily got, the worse things were getting. If she didn’t stop trying to keep things from us, she was going to explode. She washed the boy spit off her hands and headed off somewhere in the station wagon. The rear windshield looked fixed, but I couldn’t tell from this distance whether Lily had discovered it and fixed it or that was still Poppy’s illusion. I hoped it wouldn’t rain on her. She would find out quickly enough then.
We were both starving. We sat down and fed ourselves and Wulfie some PB and Js. Wulfie preferred to take his to the floor and worry it in his teeth.
“How much longer is he going to be a boy?” said Poppy.
I counted back. “Maybe another day and a half? Where do you think your mother went?”
“Gee, it would be great if she trusted me enough to tell me,” said Poppy. “If she could just remember that I’m not her little sister, and I’m not four years old anymore.”
“Could be worse,” I said. “She could send you a record of her spells and no further instructions on how to locate her or save the day.”
“Mothers,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“So, this Sam guy…” said Poppy. “You said he was playing at the pizza place last Saturday?” She tapped her phone thoughtfully. “I wonder if we can use social espionage to get them to give out his information.”
Social espionage. I knew one person who was really good at that. “I have his name and address,” I said slowly. “Jenah wormed it out of one of his friends and gave it to me.” I pulled the piece of paper from my backpack and handed it over to Poppy.
Poppy whistled. “Your friend has mad spy skills.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, she really does.”
Poppy put the address in her phone and looked up, a grin spreading over her face. “It’s the best possible news—he’s a college student. He lives in this neighborhood.”
* * *
It was in fact about time we got a break. We cleaned up our plates, grabbed a tennis ball for Wulfie, and walked the two blocks to Sam Quatch’s apartment. It was close to where we had parked Ingrid’s SUV. The rain of the past couple days had lifted—now it was merely the cool damp of early spring. Crocuses were poking between the roots of the trees, and daffodils were brave spots of yellow in the twilight.
Jazz piano drifted out of the open window as we arrived at the converted old Victorian. Jenah had found the right address all right, but did that mean he would
help us? If Claudette and the Canadians chasing him were any indication, then he had every reason to be wary of witches.
The college-age boy who opened the door had light brown skin, black hair and beard, and a wary expression. A lot had happened since I had briefly seen him Saturday night, but I was sure he was, in fact, the piano player from the pizza place.
“Hi,” said Poppy. “We won’t keep you long. We’d like to talk to you about your life insurance policy.” She drew her wand half out of her bag and showed it to him, her eyebrows raising significantly.
His face darkened and he began to shut the door on us.
But Poppy stuck her foot in. “Oh, good, I see you’ve dealt with my company before. We’re here to help, but I am not going to talk about this on the steps. May we please come in?”
He drew back, his lips set in a grim line. With exaggerated courtesy, he gestured for us to come inside. We stepped into what I presumed was your average college apartment, messy with papers and textbooks and sheet music, furnished with a card table and a decrepit gold couch. The one nice thing in the room was a shiny upright piano against the far wall. Wulfie ran and jumped on the couch. And kept jumping.
Now that I knew what Sam was, I took a good look at him. He was on the furry side, sure. Not so much he couldn’t pass for regular human. His lean arms were fuzzy, and he had a thick hipster beard. Or maybe I just pegged it as a hipster beard because he was also wearing a plaid flannel shirt. He was on the tall side, and his feet were on the long side, and they were stuffed into enormous black combat boots.
Basically, if you had told me a week ago that Bigfoot was alive and well and attending college in my city, I probably would have imagined him just like this. The only thing that ruined the picture was his hands. His long fingers were encased in a soft pair of white cotton gloves.
“Why are you wearing gloves?” I said.
Sam’s face was suddenly livid. “Why? You tell me.” He stripped off his gloves to reveal that every single fingertip had multiple Band-Aids on it. “I learned long ago that it doesn’t matter where I go or what I do. Every so often, some witch shows up and demands an entire fingernail.” He sat down on one of the card table chairs. “Sometimes they pay me for it.”
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