And if Darius was in the field, tracking Zoe or demons or other Shadow threats, there was an annoyingly significant chance he wouldn’t announce himself to me. Had he hexed Warren? Or were there other forces at work?
I looked past Tierra to Warren, who wore heavy glasses and was bent over a workbench, a swing-arm lamp lighting up the broken bird sculpture under his hands.
“Did you decide to repair the cormorant after all?” I asked.
Warren pushed the glasses up on his forehead and squinted over at me. “What’s that?”
“The sculpture,” I said, walking around Tierra, who looked for a second as if she was going to protest but then followed me in silence. “Isn’t that the one that broke?”
He scratched his head, dislodging the glasses, and shot a dark look at the sculpture. “Stupid of me, but I just can’t let it go. Sentimental value, I suppose. I really should just smash it and start over.” His voice roughened. “It’s just… I’ve lost enough this week.” He cupped the bird between his big hands.
Tierra set down the tray and reached out to him. “Oh, Warren—”
He flung up an arm and turned away. “Demon’s balls,” he said roughly. “None of that. There’s going to be more than enough pity at the funeral tomorrow.”
Tierra glanced at me. “The funeral’s tonight, Warren,” she said slowly. “In just a few hours.”
He dropped the broken clay and gaped at her. “Tonight? But… you said Thursday.”
“Today is Thursday,” Tierra said. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry about? I’m the senile old goat, not you.” Letting out a long, ragged sigh, he braced his elbows on the table, hung his head, and dug both hands into the tangled nest of white hair on his head. The glasses clattered to the table, and he made no move to pick them up.
It would be rude to stay and intrude on his grief, almost inhuman, but since I was apparently part demon, or my ancestor had been, I merely made a sympathetic face and stayed where I was, watching Tierra, probing the chair where he’d fallen earlier, and tasting the air with my magic taste buds.
There was a lot of magic in the room, mostly centered around the worktable where Warren sat. A wood crate at his feet held a stack of newspapers, presumably for his papier-mâché sculptures, and they held the promise of power, a dull buzz as strong as the silver chain around Tierra’s neck.
The sculpture of Tierra that I’d seen on my first visit was just behind us on a shelf near the coffee maker, only a few feet from her, which might have distorted the reading I was getting from the newspapers.
I clasped my right hand over my left wrist and drew as much power as I could from the beads, struggling to see through the cacophony of magic in the studio, the tornado of energy spinning around from earth clay, marble, paper, glue, gems, copper, bronze.
It was too much to process, too much to unravel.
“I came to thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Hawk,” I said, “and to let you know Birdie and I have to be leaving soon. I’m so sorry we’ll miss the rites. But maybe it’ll be easier for you if there are fewer of us here. I promise we’ll leave a charm for Crystal’s passing before we go. We’re so sorry for your loss.”
He looked up at me, brushing hair off his forehead. “You’re all leaving?”
“Just Alma and her friend,” Tierra said. “I’ll be here to take care of things. Don’t worry.”
Warren’s pale gaze met mine. For a split second I had an unimpeded view to a deep and weary pain, anxiety, maybe a little relief. “You don’t have to apologize for anything.” He put his glasses back on, blinking at the change in focus. “Don’t think you have to stay on my account. And Crystal will be glad to see you go, not that I should say that, but you’re a stranger to her, aren’t you?”
He was already hunched over his bird again, shaking a bottle of glue in one hand.
Tierra gave me an apologetic look, which I waved away as I nodded to Warren, lost in his work, and went back outside. As I was walking toward the garden arbor to take a few minutes in a sheltered area to clear my head, Tierra came out of the barn and came after me.
“He doesn’t mean to be rude,” she said. “He’s just not smooth, you know? What you see is what you get.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I said. “You’ve got your hands full. I feel guilty for leaving you here to face all the witches heading this way.”
She shrugged. “I’ll lie low. They won’t notice me. I’m just one of Warren’s old apprentices, some nobody.” She turned and looked to the north where the sky was still clear; the sun was on its descent, which usually brought a blanket of fog to the coast. “It’s such a gorgeous day. Look, I know it seems like a low priority, but would you be able to fit in that hike we kept talking about? Just a mile or so up the coast. It would suck for you to never see my favorite spot. The succulents really are amazing.”
I studied her profile, saw the creases under her eyes, the tension in her mouth. It really was selfish of me to leave her here alone to face Crystal’s funeral. Another witch might get mad. Beg me to stay.
Do other things to get me to stay.
“I’d like that,” I said.
“Only if you think Birdie is all right,” she said. “I’d understand if you wanted to stay with her.”
“She’s sleeping.” I smiled. “I tried sitting there, watching her. I got bored out of my mind. Some friend I am.”
Tierra’s face brightened. “That’s great, though, that you’re not too worried. You know your stuff. That must mean the hex wasn’t too bad.”
“I think she just drained herself again.” I cast an amused, patronizing smile at the second floor of the farmhouse where Birdie was, theoretically, paying the price of her own inexperience. “Too bad she doesn’t have a master like you did. Looks like I’m a poor substitute for Warren Hawk.”
Tierra let out an adoring sigh. “Don’t feel bad,” she said. “Everyone would be.”
Chapter Forty-Five
I’d gone to the barn to see if Birdie and I were going to be allowed to leave in one piece.
I wasn’t sure. Until I knew everything, I couldn’t risk getting in the Jeep with Birdie and driving down the coastal highway where we’d be sitting ducks for more falling boulders and Brightness knew what else.
After watching Tierra disappear into the carriage house to prepare a funeral suit for Warren, I went into the farmhouse and up the stairs. Too nervous to actually see Birdie again, I used a silent charm to confirm she was alive and well, then slipped into my room to get ready.
I put on sandals and cargo pants, stuffing the pockets with as many natural guardians I knew how to use. Three oak leaves; all the wooden focus beads I’d brought with me; a strip of fresh, hairy redwood bark; lilac petals, so small and desiccated they’d turned to dust and I’d had to put them in a plastic zip-top bag with the baby mouse skull I’d dug out of an owl pellet; and the clump of Random’s fur. That I put under my bra, touching bare skin so his unlimited love and loyalty would be closest to my heart. I was going to need his courage.
And even though Random wouldn’t appreciate sharing my bra with a cat, I tucked the ball of cat hair into the other cup. Shifting was a last resort, but I needed all the resorts I could get.
I looked at my watch, saw it was time to go meet Tierra at the cypress tree as we’d planned, then took the watch off and set it on the dresser. I didn’t trust having any metal on me for whatever I was going to face. Even my pants and bra were stretchy, pull-on garments without any hardware. At the mirror over the dresser, I checked myself again. My beaded necklaces and bracelets were now strung on natural fibers like silk or jute, not the silver I used to prefer, and absolutely none of my hair. My theory was that using metal might put me at the mercy of another witch more skilled in the hard, modern arts than I was, and it was better for me to leave it alone.
“Brightness help me,” I whispered, touching the dog fur over my heart.
Time to end this.
I was tempted to say goodbye to Birdie, but I resisted for both our sakes, strode out my room and down the stairs, and in five minutes I was walking past the carriage house, scanning the area, my eyes locked on the cypress tree in the distance.
Although the trail was mostly level underfoot, my heart was already pounding. I paused to take a drink from my water bottle and center myself. Up ahead, I saw Tierra step out from behind the tree for a moment, then move out of sight again.
It really was a beautiful day to be on the coast, blinding cobalt blue from sky to surf, a welcome change from the muted colors of foggy days. I felt a surge of optimism and continued on.
I climbed up the rocky path to the gnarled, windblown cypress, no longer looking at the beautiful view, and began to doubt myself. Had it been a mistake to leave the metal in my room? It was a reliable source of power, usually waterproof and fire-resistant, and in a pinch you could eat it and your digestive track wouldn’t break it down.
Reconsidering for a moment, I glanced back at the house and saw a tendril of smoke rise up from the gnome’s garden, the sort of fae sign only I could see. Reminding me of the benefits of being different, I rolled my fingers over the beads around my wrist, stepped off the path, and headed for the tree from a different angle.
Coming up from behind the tree, I saw a white-haired figure leaning against the trunk, one hand braced on his thigh as if the climb had worn him out.
He saw me and raised his hand from his thigh to wave feebly. I looked around for Tierra, but the rise of the bluff around the tree cut off my view.
Well, I’d known it was going to be risky.
I exaggerated my own shortness of breath as I climbed up to Warren, all the while casting spells around me for safety, detachment, peace, exhaustion, and joy. Whatever might disarm any potential attackers, although I knew it probably wouldn’t work, not here. I was an outsider, and I was alone.
“Where’s Tierra?” I asked, puffing up to him.
He pointed up the coast at a barely visible figure climbing down a path to the beach. “She went to collect some driftwood for you,” he said, cupping his eyes to peer out. “I told her it wouldn’t be very powerful for you as a hearth witch, but she said you’d never know unless you tried. Can you see her? Has she reached the beach yet?”
I glanced at him, thinking a birdwatcher should carry binoculars even if he was dressed in a neat black suit, then at the thin band of yellow sand. There was a flash of brown hair blowing in the wind, a pink sweatshirt. “Looks like,” I said.
“It’s a terrible climb down for miles along the coastline here,” he said. “But Crystal liked it that way. She watched the sunset from our cove every evening, even when we had guests, and hated to be disturbed. The highway brings hordes of them, no stopping it. But the fear of death deters most of them from our little spot.”
I adjusted the water bottle in my small day pack and nodded toward the path. Standing with him near the tree was making me nervous. Was something really wrong, or was I just anticipating the threat up the path?
“Well, I better run to catch up,” I said. “She wanted to show me her favorite spot.”
Warren looked off to the beach where I’d glimpsed Tierra, his face breaking into a wide smile that showed a row of strong, white teeth. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.
I paused. I was breathing too fast, sweating too much. Since I had already put my defensive spells at their highest power, I turned a little energy to supporting my emotional state. Having a panic attack would undermine all my spells.
After I resumed walking, Warren pushed away from the tree and came up behind me. “You know, I think I’ll come with you if you don’t mind. I was setting a spell here at the tree for Crystal’s rites later, and”—he sighed—“I think it’s got to me. A walk would do me good.” He took a cautious step down the path, reaching over to a rocky outcropping for balance. “I’d better be careful so I don’t get anything on the suit. Tierra pressed it for me.”
I swallowed hard, not sure if I should keep my attention aimed primarily in front or behind me. I didn’t think they were working together, but I wasn’t sure. The path was too rocky and narrow to step aside and let him pass, so I walked on, ready to grab my power but not wanting to look trigger-happy.
Just out on a nice, casual hike. Why worry? I said I was going home. No reason to hurt me.
The distance between Tierra and me was still too great for most spells to reach, so I kept hiking, fingers twitching to grab my beads at any moment.
I reached a grassy, level stretch of the path long before Warren, who was struggling to keep up. Tierra was out of sight, and I kept an eye on the edge of the bluff, curious to see if she popped up in the distance.
When Warren reached me, I stepped aside into the grass. “I’m going too fast for you,” I said. “You go first.”
Flashing a weak smile, Warren wiped his brow as he shuffled past, and we continued walking. On level ground, his pace was faster and more steady, and soon the path threaded along the breathtaking vista off the edge of the cliff. Just a narrow strip of worn earth, the path cut through wild, rolling grassland and a sheer drop into the rocky surf.
My mouth was dry with anxiety, but I didn’t want to reach for my water bottle, which would busy my hands with something that wasn’t an object of power.
Warren stopped walking and turned to me. “I knew your grandfather, you know,” he said, wiping his brow again.
I swallowed over the lump in my throat, my focus momentarily thrown. “My grandfather?” My dad had never talked about his own father.
“Amos Bellrose was quite a character, at least back then.” He turned and continued walking. His back was straighter, his feet no longer catching on the ground with each step. At the same time, my own limbs were feeling heavy.
I followed, but with my magic fully engaged, no longer trying to be subtle, but curious. His mention of my grandfather had made me hungry to hear more. From what I’d heard and read, Amos had been a Protectorate witch with an honorable reputation at the New York office. “When did you know him?”
“We were in school together. Little boys, really.” He held out his hand at waist level to show how small they’d been. “Seems like a century ago. Almost was.”
Under calmer circumstances, I would’ve liked to know more, but there were better times and places to chat about my ancestors in the illustrious Bellrose family.
I scanned the path ahead of us for any sign of Tierra, but it was flat, windswept, and empty.
Empty. And I wasn’t the only one whose magic was fully engaged. Warren had turned and seemed to be using all his energy to walk ahead, but if I released some of my boundary magic and turned the energy into a scan, I could see a cloud of magic around Warren’s head and hands as blue as the Pacific.
It was a magic I didn’t immediately recognize. An elderly witch appearing younger would have an aura of physical illusion as well as a deeper spell that strengthened joints, muscles, bones, and vital organs.
But this was something else. It was the opposite illusion, one that made him appear older, more vulnerable.
I slowed my pace, thinking furiously. A ruthless Protectorate agent, suspecting he’d been cornered by enemies, might not hesitate to push an old man who might be dangerous off an ocean cliff. The surf was crashing into the rocks far below. It would kill him, but it would ensure my own safety.
That was a move I couldn’t make. Incurable Inability. I stopped where I was, the wind lashing against me, and brushed the hair out of my eyes. Warren was still walking away from me.
Another cypress tree jutted up ahead on our right, and a worn patch of earth at the base of the twisted trunk showed where previous hikers had rested their feet and enjoyed the view.
Our path went left of the tree, hugging the cliff’s edge with little room to spare. The tree was on a rocky outcropping, making it hard—a steep climb—to walk around it to the right.
I waited to see what Warren would do. He
would’ve made the journey many times before, and so he didn’t slow down, reaching out to the tree with one hand as he stepped gingerly around the roots.
The beach and a path from the cliff were visible from here, but I still didn’t see Tierra.
And then I understood. Tierra wasn’t on the beach and never had been.
A series of details and small events came together into a solid, clear form, beautiful and perfect. They crystallized.
Warren must’ve been willing to do anything to protect the precious routine of his life. When he’d seen his wife had gone too far, bringing the Protectorate down on their family, he’d killed her.
It hadn’t been Phil. Yes, she’d been blackmailing him, but Phil had been willing to go along with it. Probably because he’d truly loved Zoe, who loved working with Protectorate witch society.
My conclusions were coming faster now, one with each of Warren’s phony limping steps. He’d been the one to kill Phil. Maybe the demon had refused to continue funding Warren’s lifestyle. Maybe he’d threatened to expose the blackmail.
Warren was a powerful, connected witch; he could’ve easily gotten a silver stake or even kept one as a souvenir from his old days at the Protectorate.
I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants and looked behind me at Hawk Ranch. He must have Tierra under a spell right now and—yes, the arguments with Nathan!—had been doing so for days. The blue cloud around him had to be feeding the hex. I’d felt something wrong but had thought it might be the Shadow in her heart, or Nathan’s, not his.
It was some comfort that my new friend wasn’t a murderer, but now I had to deal with Warren. Coming out on the cliff like this, he must’ve decided he’d have to kill me in a hurry, at close range.
And he’d been the one to roll the boulder onto the road. And he’d faked the attack on himself, pretending to be afraid of his dead wife’s spirit. Even then, I hadn’t gone home. I’d continued to poke around.
But worst of all, I’d gotten way too friendly with Tierra. I might have already discovered his secret—his hex on her—and if I hadn’t, it was only a matter of time. I had to die.
Hex at a House Party Page 30