Warren’s eyes blazed. “Oh, I get it. How fascinating it must be to see the great Hawk bloodline come to bankruptcy and humiliation. In spite of all my advantages, born with the greatest privileges in American witch history, I’ve ended up here, washed up at the edge of the world, my wife dead to suicide, dependent upon charity for domestic help…” He lumbered over to Tierra and pulled the shirt out from under the iron. “Leave it,” he said.
Tierra flinched. “Warren, please—”
“Go! All of you! At least leave me alone here in my own house.” He dropped the shirt on a chair and shuffled toward the hallway. “I can’t make you go home, but I can make you get out.”
“We’ve put some food in the fridge—” Zoe began.
“Out!” The sculptures lining the high shelf around the ceiling began dropping like dead birds. A ceramic one smashed on the counter right behind me. I slapped my hand on my necklace to set up a shield over Birdie and me, and Phil had to leap out of the way of a flying bronze squirrel with sharp teeth.
“We’ll go, of course we’ll go!” Zoe hooked her arm through Phil’s and stumbled toward the doorway.
Birdie bumped into them in her haste to leave.
Darius held his hand over his head like an umbrella, fixed his gaze on Warren, and backed out of the room. “I apologize for upsetting you.”
Warren flung out his arm and a terracotta whale spun through the air, then banged against the invisible magic barrier around Darius’s head. It bounced to the floor and gouged a divot out of the oak before breaking into three pieces.
“Go!” Warren shouted.
I’d been lingering out of pure shock, but that was enough to make me finally run out of there. Holding my hands over my head, I ran out of the house and joined the others on the walkway.
Nathan was there, looking as if he was returning from a different kind of run, drenched with sweat in minimalist shoes, leggings, and a skintight orange shirt, drinking from a water bottle. “What happened?”
“Poor man,” Zoe said, her eyes wide. “The shock finally got to him. He’s falling apart.”
Nathan frowned at us, then at the carriage house. “Where’s Tierra?”
I looked behind me at the door. I hadn’t heard any more smashing sounds once I’d left the kitchen. “I guess he doesn’t mind her sticking around.”
Nathan’s face twisted. “I guess not.” He spun away and strode to the farmhouse, sweat dripping in his wake.
Darius, who had been standing silently nearby, followed him into the house.
“That Nathan guy has a dark energy inside him,” Phil said. “I think everyone should give him a wide berth. He doesn’t have the character to brush off a direct threat to his ego. Not peacefully.”
“Don’t be silly. He’s all bark and no bite,” Zoe said vaguely. She was staring at the carriage house door as if expecting Warren to appear any second.
“I’ve learned to never underestimate any man who feels humiliated,” Phil said.
Zoe didn’t seem to be listening. “Poor Warren. I feel like we’re abandoning him, but maybe it’s better to give him some space.”
“You’d think almost losing your husband to a bronze rodent would’ve convinced you,” Phil said dryly.
Finally turning away from the carriage house, she smiled at her husband and put her arm around his waist. “You’re so sweet.” She glanced at me. “He’s never complained about coming up here, not once, even though the cottage is drafty, the toilet runs, and the mattress is horrible.”
“Guess you don’t have to worry about that anymore now though,” Birdie said. “Except for Tierra, none of us will probably ever come back here again.”
Silence fell.
Noticing everyone staring at her, Birdie cringed. “Sorry, but it’s true, isn’t it?”
Phil didn’t answer, but Zoe sighed heavily. “Yes, that’s probably true,” she said. “Without Crystal, we have no reason to come back.” She turned away into Phil’s comforting embrace, and they walked away toward their cottage on the hill.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Birdie went up to her bedroom while I walked around the downstairs with a renewed interest in demon sign. Finding demons wasn’t my strong suit—although I’d never admitted that to anyone, certainly not when that had been the biggest bullet point on my job description.
Wood sprites, water fairies, gnomes, trolls, dryads—those I could see and hear better than anyone I’d ever met. But when the Protectorate had sent me on assignment to find the possessing spirit Seth Dumont, I’d needed to use the elongated strip of sharpened silver—they called it a stake, but it was more of a knife—they’d given me with my orders. He might not have been a demon, but he was a possessing spirit inside a human being, and the enchanted silver had felt the wrongness of it.
Darius probably had a similar stake with him on this mission. He’d killed two demons since our first assignment together; did that mean he carried one around all the time now?
Not having a silver stake to sniff out any demons, I would have to rely on my beads, biological materials, silence, and my innate magic.
Darius had sensed demons inside the house. It could be a guest from a party weeks or months ago; it could be an electrician, a cook, a cleaner. It could appear male or female, young or old.
It could appear as familiar as my own face, because a demon could possess anyone, even an unprotected witch.
I set my hands on the telescope, wondering if demons liked to gaze at the stars. Had one of the other guests looked through the eyepiece as I had, adjusted the lens and sought answers, or simply beauty, in the heavens? I focused on the pale moon that hovered between a break in the afternoon clouds above the sea.
I didn’t feel demon sign, only witchcraft. Warren’s magical fingerprints were all over the telescope, the lens cap, the tripod; he’d used a seeking charm to see better.
The feather in my boot tingled, sending me a vision of wings in flight. Webbed feet in the sand. Insects and crabs in beaks.
Ah, of course. Warren wasn’t looking at planets and stars; he was looking at birds. Given the near-constant coastal fog, it made sense the telescope was for objects closer to home. Now that I knew what to look for, I sensed the avian charms he’d set along his wild lawn, the cliff’s edge, the rafters of the old farmhouse. The fairies, before being frightened away (or eaten), must’ve loved those charms as well. Flight, air, sun, song…
I moved the telescope, searching again for the fae. Still none. I missed them. More than I would’ve thought possible, like a craving, a thirst, a hunger.
Great. Spoken like a true demon.
But it was more than the fae I missed. Everything about Silverpool called to me, pressuring me to return. My comfortable home with its personal, familiar magic; my dog; the wellspring, preparing for its winter arrival; even Seth.
He might be able to tell me why the opal ring flared up at my touch, why it made me sick, what it had told Crystal about her guests, including me. But would he tell me how to detect a demon if it meant sharing the information with a Protectorate agent—Darius Ironford in particular?
I stepped away from the telescope and went up to my room, passing Nathan in fresh clothes with wet hair on the stairs.
“Looks like I’ll be eating another sandwich,” he muttered as he stomped past.
“There’s probably leftover quiche in the fridge—” I began, but he was gone.
If Tierra used illicit magic in her show, had it been Nathan’s idea? He seemed angry and unsatisfied with life as it was, which was a dangerous combination for a human being born with the gift of magic. Only our internal morality and social pressures kept witches from trying to take over the world. The Freewitches were a fringe group, but they always were able to recruit new, usually young members who sought unfettered, unhinged liberties.
I knocked on Birdie’s door. “It’s me. Alma.”
There was a loud thud, then the door swung open. “Hi!” Birdie waved. “I’m pract
icing!”
On the floor behind her were several books lying at various angles.
“Knocking things down?” I asked.
“I figured Tierra is too busy to teach me anything else right now, so I’d better perfect the one lesson she gave me.”
“How about your barrier spells or your magic detection spells?” I didn’t mean to sound angry, but pulling books off a shelf wasn’t quite as important as guarding yourself against pain, possession, and death.
Her smile fell. “Oh. But—”
I went inside and locked the door behind me. “Did you scan the hallway to make sure I was who I said I was?”
The corners of his lips began to turn downward. She shook her head. “But—”
“You did great yesterday with the floor-stick spell, but that was with Tierra’s help,” I said. “You’ve got to find out what works on your own.”
She bent over and began picking up the books. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I was distracted because moving stuff is so much… It’s more than fun, you know? It’s magic.” She dropped a yellowed, chunky paperback and had to pick it up again. “I’m not into drugs, but I imagine it’s like what really good drugs would be like. Oh, I know! Once I had my teeth pulled, you know, my wisdom teeth, and those were awesome drugs. It’s like that.” She shot me a guilty smile and stacked the books on a table.
“That feeling is exactly what you need to watch out for,” I said. “And stay away from it. Far away.”
“But I’m just moving a book,” she said.
“It’s not what you do, it’s how you feel about it.” I looked at the stack, found the weakest point of its foundation—the chunky paperback near the bottom—and used a quick, narrow spell to yank it apart.
The books were now on the floor again, and I had the tired but sweet sensation of magic having poured through me. I put my hand on my beads and blocked the feeling.
“It’s like blood,” I said. “You can lose a little at a time and still survive, but you wouldn’t do it for no reason.”
“But I’m supposed to practice, aren’t I? You keep telling me how important it is that I practice.”
“Blocking and sensing keep the magic within yourself. You aren’t… cutting a hole and letting it out.” I went over and picked up the books with my hands.
“I’ve seen you do all kinds of cool things at home,” she said. “You blow out candles just by waving your finger at them from across the room.”
“My house has become a little bit like… like me. A big version of myself. What I do there doesn’t escape out into the world but gets funneled back into me.” I walked over and sat on the window seat. “When I do spells away from home, I use my beads to draw the power back into myself. Otherwise I’d get too tired just doing the smallest things.”
“What do other witches do? I don’t see anyone else using beads like you.”
“I’ve never seen a witch who walked around naked—and I don’t mean clothes, unless they’ve got silver threads or enchanted fibers of some kind or another.” I held up my arms, heavy with bracelets, and wiggled my fingers to show the rings. “Even I wear metal and stone. Not as much but usually a little.”
“I could’ve bought more jewelry,” she said. “But you just made sure I had the beads you gave me.”
“Because until you master the blocking and sensing spells, those kinds of materials could be used against you by a witch who specializes in metal and stone—namely, almost all of them. Sometimes… sometimes I think about avoiding it altogether, even in my jewelry.” I put my hand on my beads and zeroed in on the ones she wore at her throat, binding them together like a tightrope. “Try to hurt yourself somehow.”
“What?”
“Nothing serious,” I continued. “Pinch yourself. Pull a hair out of your head. Bite your nails.”
She held out her nicely manicured hands, glanced at me, then brought her thumb to her mouth and bit down.
Frowning in surprise, she tried again, this time as if her finger were an apple, then held out her hand and stared at the untouched fingernail. “It didn’t even dent the polish.”
“I’m guarding you,” I said. “Even from yourself. Do you feel me tapping into your beads?”
She nodded. “I didn’t realize you could do that.”
“I made them, so I’ve got access.” I lowered my voice. “Now imagine what I could do if I wanted to hurt you.”
“I think I’d like to take it off now,” she said.
I gave her a sympathetic smile, but I was glad I’d gotten through to her. My father had taught me the same lesson when I’d been too young to think I had a choice. Attachment parenting had an entirely different meaning in the witch world. “If you trust me, you should leave them on,” I said.
“But couldn’t somebody else use them?”
I dropped my connection and shook my head. “The beads are attuned to you and me, and I used your hair as a chain, not metal. I’d never use your own body against you,” I said.
“Could you if you wanted?”
“I couldn’t,” I said. “It would take a specialized power—probably Shadow—to override your own hair’s desire to protect you from an external threat.”
Tucking in her chin, she pulled her necklace out and pushed the beads apart to look at the hair underneath. “I thought that was cotton thread or something. How’d you get my hair? Oh, of course. How could you not get my hair? We share a bathroom. My mother was always complaining about how I shed so much. She made me use that snake thing to clean out the drain in the shower before I was old enough to drive. But ew. That must’ve been kind of gross for you, all that gunk and—”
“I pulled the strands off your brush, Birdie. I wouldn’t want to mix my own hair in with yours and Brightness knows what else,” I said, making a face. “I would’ve told you, but I was going to use it during a lesson and teach you to sense it for yourself.”
Birdie sat on the edge of her bed, eyeing the door. “I keep thinking about Tierra’s doll,” she said. “The puppet with real hair and eyelashes.”
“The parts were from her own body,” I said. “That gave it power. Dolls are an ancient, protective art. You know, for good fortune, long life, happy hearth, strong babies, all that medieval jazz.”
“But you used my hair to make a focus necklace that might do anything,” she said. “I can knock books over. Maybe even hurt people.”
Sighing, I sat next to her. “I probably shouldn’t have, honestly, but I’m not always strict about the rules. If I’d kept it for myself, that would’ve been really bad. But I gave it to you.”
“You didn’t make one for yourself?” She looked down at my necklaces, my bracelets. “None of those have my hair?”
“No,” I said quickly. “I would never do that.”
“If hair has power, how do witches stop people from taking theirs? I drop hair all over the place. You must too. Or do you use magic to keep it from falling out?” She reached up to my head and combed her fingers through my messy curls. She tugged, and several strands came out—somewhat painfully for me.
“I don’t worry about it,” I said. “Most witches wouldn’t have any use for it. Getting caught stealing biomatter would get you brought into the Protectorate for questioning. And it takes a lot of power, Shadow magic, to do anything serious with it.”
Birdie handed me the strands of my own hair. “I’m really tempted to shave my head or at least wear a hat.”
“There’s so many forces out there that are dangerous,” I said, “it’s hopeless to try to control them all. The best you can do is guard yourself. Learn to block. Establish strong boundaries. You can’t stop the world from being dangerous.”
Birdie got up from the bed and went over to the window. After a long moment, she asked quietly, “If you weren’t good at boundary spells, could somebody make you commit suicide?”
I shivered. It was a witch’s worst nightmare—to be controlled by another, forced to do something horrible to yourself or
others. “No. Like I told you in the car, you’d drain yourself of magic before you could do the same to another.”
“Are you sure?”
With another shiver, I got up and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders. “Lately I feel like I don’t know anything for sure.”
But I did know what was more likely. There was one creature strong enough to possess a witch utterly and completely, strong enough to smother a human being’s will to survive.
And the Protectorate had been hunting them for centuries.
“I need to talk to Darius again,” I said.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind me.
Where was Darius now? If I were him, I’d be catching a few hours’ sleep before the night ahead, when he’d want to hunt down the demon. The night was the best time for hunting Shadow. Its odor, taste, and sound became easier to trace when the human practitioners of magic tended to sleep. When Brightness slept, other forces were more obvious to detect.
I wasn’t going to waste my breath volunteering to hunt with him. He’d only get annoyed and suspicious. But I needed to know what he was doing to protect the other people in the house from meeting the same fate as Crystal. Who else was going to have a sudden, undeniable urge to take a midnight skinny dip in a rip current? He’d found out Tierra was being blackmailed. What else did he know?
Just as I was turning toward Darius’s door at the end of the hall, I heard Tierra’s voice behind me.
“Hi,” she said. “Were you heading up to see me?”
“Uh, no,” I said. “I was going to see if Darius was in his room.”
“He’s downstairs in the kitchen with Nate. I thought maybe you’d found my note.”
My heart skipped a beat. “In the… basket?” I asked carefully.
She frowned. “Basket? No, I pushed it under the door.” She turned. “Didn’t you get it?”
I shook my head. My boundary spells shouldn’t have allowed anything to enter. “Sorry.”
Hex at a House Party Page 17