She looked me up and down. “Brush off the dust. You should be fine.”
I took her word for it and headed down, certain that she’d keep my kids away from the attic. Although, really, even if they realized what the skeleton was, they were more likely to be fascinated than frightened.
On the other hand, Gavin would be sure to tell everyone at school on Monday, and then I'd have to arrange time off in the middle of the day to talk to his teacher, the principal, and most likely the police as well.
When I stepped out the door into the alley, fingers crawled up my spine, and I could feel rage building in my chest. I needed someone to lash out at, but there was no one around. Benjamin better have a good reason for dragging me down here.
The door from the kitchen to the outside was closed today. Unusual, but not unexpected with the atmosphere outside. The city was getting bad. Heat and humidity were preferable to hate.
Benjamin saw me as soon as I stepped inside. He motioned to one of his assistants to take over at the stove.
“Let's talk in my office.”
I followed him to the dimly lit area tucked beneath the stairs. It wasn't large enough to be used as an actual room, but given how much time Benjamin spent in it, it was sufficient. I was impressed by how well ventilated the area was — there was no grease anywhere, and only hints of roasting ribs and chicken perfumed the air. It was still oppressively hot, though.
He closed the door, and I swallowed. This was serious. Had they seen Matt kiss me last night? Was this where I got warned off for leading him on?
“Thank you.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Thank you. Inside this place, our home and our work, there is peace. The tempers, the complaints from the customers, all that is gone.” He gazed pensively at the closed door as if looking to his workers beyond. “When people come in, they relax. All that burdens them drops away. I do not know how, but I am sure you had a hand in it.”
“Only a hand. The twins’ godfather gave me the tool.”
“Their—? Ah, I was not aware you knew Hsien.”
In a normal family, that would've been an odd statement.
“I see him many days when I go out,” I replied. “Have you heard him play his violin? He told me once his bow was strung with his own hair.”
“I have not, but I will look for the opportunity.”
“Try the T stop. He's often there, pretending to be just another busker in the crowd.”
“That would require it to be safe to go to the T. Burdens may be laid down at our doorstep, but they are picked up again when people leave.”
“The tool I have can't be used on the whole city.”
My mind boggled at the idea of trying to ward such a large area. Although one of the ring roads could function as the outer circle, perhaps. But then where would I inscribe the other symbols, and would they have to be proportionately sized? And how much power would it take? I'd have to think about this.
“Then you must find another. Please.”
“That's a lot to ask of your friendly neighborhood barista.”
His laugh was easy and unforced. “Did Matt ever tell you about our conversation, the one that sent him over to your apartment?”
Whenever I tried to get details from Matt, he evaded the questions. Part and parcel of him not wanting to talk about my magic, or magic in general. That night at my apartment was the longest talk Matt and I had ever had about magic and its effects. My mouth went dry. What was I about to learn?
“Not really, no. Do you know, he first told me it was a death curse? Not the most forthcoming of men.”
Benjamin shrugged. “What man is? He mentioned death first to make sure you would take him seriously; he told us he would. Wei asked what kind of woman would take talk of a death curse seriously. That’s when he told us why he broke up with you, that you practiced magic, were more involved than his mother had ever been, and he could not face a future like that. He also said you were the only one he trusted to be able to stand up to Hsien, should it be necessary.”
“I see.” I couldn’t imagine standing up to the Lung dragon — or needing to.
“We don't talk of it. It has never been mentioned again. Until now.”
“And so you think I can fix this.”
“If you do not know how, you can find someone to help far more easily than I can. Your reward for how much you've done is asking you to do more. It is the way of things.”
“Yeah, you and my manager.” I sighed. “You're right, though. The city is sick and getting worse. Something needs to be done, and I guess that falls on me. I'll do my best.”
“Do more than that.”
As if it were just that easy. “I'm a witch, not a miracle worker.”
“Wei and I are still alive, aren't we? There was no death from four.”
I never had been sure that there would have been death if they’d only had the four grandchildren, but I wasn’t willing to gamble with their lives. Still, what I did had nothing to do with my magic.
“That's the miracle of modern medicine. I can't take credit for that.”
“You believed in the need, you knew where to find help, and you did what needed to be done. All I'm asking is that you do the same thing again.”
Was that all.
“You just said my best wasn't enough.”
“People say to do your best when they don't expect you to succeed. We can't afford for you to fail.”
He had a point.
“Oh, and Pepper? Call your parents. You don't talk to them nearly often enough.”
Chapter 11
I stopped in to let Wei and her mother know I was back before heading up to the attic again.
Gavin came running up to me waving a white stuffed animal. “Mom, Mom, Mom!”
“Yes, love, I hear you. What is that thing?”
“Ama gave it to me! She says it's a dragon, but I think it's like a ferret or mink or something.”
Ama was the twins’ name for Wei’s mother, Jinhong. Ama was certainly less of a mouthful than great-grandmother.
“An ermine?”
“No!” His eyes grew wide, and a grin spread across his face. “He’s a weasel like in Toad Hall!” He danced away, still playing with the plush toy, ignoring the fact that the weasels weren’t good guys.
I raised my eyebrows at Wei. “A dragon that looks like a weasel?”
“It was meant to be a Lung dragon, but I think they sent the wrong thing, but as long as everyone is happy…”
“Right.”
We were interrupted by a knock on the door, followed immediately by it opening. “I told you I heard her voice in here!”
My mom and dad stood in the doorway, but not for long. They came in and closed the door behind them, ready to settle in on Wei’s furniture and join the conversation. I’d tried, once, to tell my dad that they shouldn’t just barge in like that, and he said, “We’re family. I wouldn’t even knock if your mother didn’t insist on it.”
After that, I was glad he didn’t visit when Mom was out of town for work.
Mom could’ve given Olympia Dukakis a run for her money, classic lines and light coloring. Sharp tongue, too, when she felt like it, but usually just strong. She knew what she could do, and she wasn’t going to let anyone get in her way.
I got my nose from Mom and my coloring — olive skin tone and dark hair — from Dad. They were the epitome of opposites attracting — her gracile, him sturdy and broad. I got lumped in the middle, curvy and solid, but not as heavy as some of my cousins. Gavin was going to be like my dad, I thought, where Tina would be the perfect blend of my mom and Wei.
“Maybe it’s because we live in the suburbs, but I swear, the drivers in Boston get worse every time we visit,” Dad said by way of greeting. “Two different meter maids tried to give me parking tickets for stopping too long at a stop sign.”
I wasn’t sure whether to chalk that up to the general atmosphere in the city or to my dad’s notorious ca
ution about driving. If there was a car anywhere within a block of the intersection, he wouldn’t pull out. Trips with him took forever and were punctuated by more foul language than the Red Sox getting beaten by the Yankees.
“As long as they’re not giving them to you at a red light, you’re doing fine,” Wei told him. “Or a green one.”
His brow wrinkled. “Why would I stop for green?”
Rather than let things descend into mutual incomprehensibility of humor, I interrupted. “What brings you here, other than Dad’s fine driving? Monthly brunch is next Sunday, isn’t it?”
“Why do we need a reason to stop in and see our favorite daughter?”
“Only daughter.”
“Whatever. And where are those delightful grandchildren?”
Wei said, “Teaching my mother the difference between a clownfish and a dory. Did you know Dory’s not really a dory or even a john dory, but a blue tang? Tina was worried that I might be confused by the names.”
“Maybe you should expand that fish tank downstairs, get something besides koi in it.”
Wei shook her head quickly. “Too impractical. Koi are freshwater, and all of the fish that Tina are interested in are saltwater fish. Also, do you know how big a blue tang can grow? It would be cruel to keep it in a tank that would fit in the restaurant.”
“Dory’s not that big.”
“She’s very young. Many fish continue to grow through their entire lifespans.”
I decided to intervene before the conversation got any more surreal.
“Gavin! Tina! Your other grandparents are here.”
If I were anyone else, I would have missed the annoyance as it crossed Mom’s face. She didn’t like being the “other” set, the ones who needed a qualifier. In her next phone call, she was sure to ask me to move back in with them.
It didn’t matter to her that Gavin and Tina would be uprooted from every comfort they knew of daily life, other than me. In her mind, it was all about me having chosen Matt’s family over my own. Never mind that to me, it always felt she'd chosen work over time with me. She was older now and home more often, and she wanted me to choose her.
She didn’t wait until the next phone call. “Jason’s mother — you remember Jason, don’t you, Pepper? — was telling me this past week that they might have an opening in their brokerage. I’m sure he’d be happy to put in a good word for you.”
Of course I remembered Jason, the boy next door. One didn’t forget the boy who told you he’d break your nose so it would look better, or the one who repeatedly tripped you in class when no one was looking so you’d look like an idiot. Or the boy who was victim to the first curse you ever made, one that made him break out in a blue rash all over his body. I think the final tally was seventeen specialists they dragged him to, searching for an answer before the rash faded. He’d only gotten worse with age, too. There wasn’t enough money in the world for me to work in the same business as him.
“I was saving the news, but Kendall is planning to be more hands-off with the business. She's considering promoting me to manager.”
“About time she recognized your hard work,” Dad said.
Mom, however, didn't give up. “I'm sure that's very nice, but the coffeehouse seems such a waste of your talent.”
“It suits me,” I said. I was saved from further justification by the arrival of the twins, but I knew the conversation had only been postponed, not ended.
Later, after my parents had left and all was quiet once more, I tried calling Beth, who was always up for a bit of “My parents are worse than yours.” She always won, since her mom had kicked her out at seventeen and refused to speak to her since. It helped me keep my life in perspective. Besides, I wanted to know how her art experiments were going. Unfortunately, my calls went straight to voice mail. I left a short message — “How’s that new project going? Any nibbles from galleries yet? Give me a call when you have time!” — and went back to brooding.
I thought about the ghosts I’d run across — the one near me, the one I presumed occupied the garage near Maggie. The girl in the attic hadn’t become a ghost. People were murdered all the time without their ghosts floating around the city. So what made the women in the parking garages different? It wasn’t just that it was unexpected, or that her body was still there — assuming it was. Maybe that she had been killed with magic, but I think, as with all magic, it had to do with intention — the killer intended to create a ghost.
More than one ghost, in the same kind of structure, scattered around the city? That smacked of ritual, and whether the intent was to get more power (tales of human sacrifice for power from the gods must have some basis in reality, after all) or to sow dissent in the city, one deliberate effect was surely the ghosts.
I wanted to ask Maggie to come with me to the parking garage, but given the distance she’d put between us, that wasn’t likely to happen. Rather than pushing for this, I settled for calling and asking, “Did you go to the garage?”
“Not yet,” she snapped. “Not that I’m sure why you care.”
I took a breath and exhaled slowly, reminding myself that she was under the influence of the ghost near her. I couldn’t take her antagonism personally. And it had only been two days since I’d been to her house — there hadn’t been a lot of time for her to do extracurricular trips.
However, this was important, so I prodded her. “Because as you have often reminded me, you have the Sight. And I want to know what there is to See and if that might help us to get rid of them.”
“Us? I don’t recall agreeing to work with you. In fact,” — I could tell it was going to be bad news — “the others think I shouldn’t even be talking to you. Dorothy said this is clearly one of your spells gone wrong, and you’re trying to cover your tracks.”
Once again, I exhaled to a count of five. I would not respond in anger. That never led to anywhere good. Never mind that Dorothy was a narrow-minded old biddy who thought any witch not pledged to Hekate should die a horrible death. This wasn’t the time to have that fight. Normally, Maggie would agree with me about Dorothy’s attitude. With the influences in the city right now, I didn’t think she would agree with me about anything.
“And do you agree with her?”
“I’ve known you both for a long time.”
Which totally dodged the question, and she knew it.
“Well, if the others don’t have practical suggestions—”
“There was one. Magic stops when the caster dies.”
I blinked in shock. That couldn’t have been meant as a serious suggestion. Unless — well, witches clearly weren’t immune to the effects of the ghosts. It was certainly possible that one or more — especially Dorothy, who had never cared for me anyway — had crossed over from irritation to near-homicidal rage. Still — “They want to kill me? And when did you talk to Dorothy, anyway? It’s only Saturday, and you normally meet on Mondays.”
I wasn’t the one responsible for this, and if they killed me, they’d still have to deal with a mess none of them wanted to touch. Witches! That word seriously started with the wrong consonant.
“Killing you was the general idea, yes, and she thought it vital enough to call me. You’re in luck so far, though — she said no one was willing to volunteer to do the deed. They’re afraid of you.”
And they should be, too, though my revenge was more likely to be explosive diarrhea during their next important meeting. I didn’t kill people.
No mention of being afraid of prison for murder; witches wouldn’t kill with a weapon the police would recognize as one — runaway cars, blindness when walking along an embankment, acute appendicitis, poison — nothing traceable to a person. No mention either of the moral stains on their own magic if they used it for such a cause. If they were convinced I was in the wrong, they would see themselves as champions of virtue, with the ends justifying the means. How could murder be wrong if it prevented evil?
“You said they are afraid of me. But you’re
not.”
“No, and if I ever think you need to be taken down, you’d best remember that.” Her voice was tart, but not angry as it had been when we started the call — she’d calmed down while we talked.
Some of the tension drained from me; I wasn’t in immediate danger. My cell phone screen flickered, and a glance showed that the ward I’d placed on it had activated. I’d only meant for the lockscreen to be an emergency ward wherever I was, but it was active as well as passive. Pity that Maggie would slip back under the influence after the call ended. Although maybe—
“I will. Meanwhile, do you know a good ward spell?”
“Certainly. Ouroboros circles the world, and he circles me. Anything he circles can be kept safe.”
“Right.” Just like the Lung dragon made a circle in the ward I was using. Just as all wards had an enclosure, separating what was within from the outside. “Make one. Ward your house, ward yourself, ward your cats if they go outside. I want you to stay safe.” As an afterthought, I added, “You might want to tell the others to ward themselves if they can, too.”
At the very least, that might cut down on their bloodthirstiness.
“They won’t take any suggestion that comes from you. Especially Dorothy.”
Of course not. Did I mention narrow-minded old biddy?
Chapter 12
Sunday afternoon, Gavin and Tina were in their room reading, so I had a few hours of quiet. I leaned against their door jamb for a few minutes, watching them, Tina with her hair splayed across the red and gold chrysanthemum blanket her great-grandmother had given her, Gavin hunkered down with his blankets like a turtle as if the window unit were going full blast, his book hidden in shadow.
When I was a little girl, I probably assumed I’d have kids when I grew up. Our culture was filled with the stereotypes and expectations, grow up, go to school, get a job, get married, have kids. Not necessarily in that order, although again — expected. Somewhere along the way, I’d stopped dreaming about that, though I still dated and went to college. Even got a job. Get married and have kids? Maybe if the right guy came along, but I wasn’t holding my breath.
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