“We'll have to come back sometime,” Sarai said defensively. She shot her dad a dark look, as if daring him to argue with that. Miles didn't. “She's nice.”
Miles smiled faintly. “She seems that way.”
I wasn't sure if that was an insult, a compliment, or both. The way he said it, it really could've been either.
“And she could be a murderer.” Sarai sounded pleased by that.
“Thanks?” I said, a bit baffled.
Mocha padded away from Sarah, setting her butt on my foot again. “There's about to be trouble,” Mocha said, but in my head.
I looked down at her and then up, quickly surveying the area around us. I didn’t see anything, nothing I was worried about, until –
“You killed my sister!”
An older woman that reminded me very much of Mildred appeared out of nowhere, waving her cane at me.
“Really?” I said to Mocha, not wanting to unleash my sarcasm out loud. I looked up at the sky, although whether I was praying for a deity to make the whole thing go away or asking whatever deity it was why they kept smiting me, I wasn't sure. Moving to a new town so hadn’t been worth everything that had happened.
The woman drew level with me, her eyes ablaze.
“I didn’t murder anyone,” I said, somewhat patiently. Sort of.
I could see Miles pulling Sarai to the side, despite her attempting to stay close. She very obviously wanted to watch. I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned. A child should be shielded to some extent, right? But she already seemed to have a good grasp of the dark parts of humanity.
Whatever she was, she was special. Was it having a police officer for a father? From losing her mother young? Or maybe it was something else.
The older woman was standing in front of me again now, her hair less fluffy and more perfectly coiffed, and very clearly dyed a platinum-y blonde. I hadn’t even known that was possible.
“Can I help you?” I asked politely, trying to treat it like one of my temp jobs.
“You killed my sister!” the woman screeched, hitting a pitch I didn’t know existed. “You broke into her coffee shop and she was going to go to the police, so you killed her.”
If any of that was true, I had to be the worst thief ever.
“Millie,” Miles said, his voice polite. “We don't have proof yet.”
“I know it!” Millie insisted, her voice hard as stone. “My sister would still be alive if it wasn't for this horrible person.”
For a second, I thought Miles was going to sit back and pull out the popcorn, watch the situation and see what I would do. He had asked me enough questions about the murder that I wouldn't really have been surprised.
Instead he had his cop face on, a professional expression, even with Sarai standing right behind him. “She's innocent until proven guilty,” he said sternly.
“Politics,” Millie said sharply. “Nobody believes that shit.”
“That's bad language,” Sarai said, unimpressed.
Millie looked unbalanced, her gaze flickering to Sarai for the first time, as if she hadn’t seen her. “I do apologize,” she said, at once looking sad and far too old. “I didn't notice the child was here.” She seemed to shrink, going from cranky old lady to a defeated one in just a few seconds. “I'm sorry,” she said, and she looked the part, too. She sniffled. I could even see a few tears in her eyes.
I was suspicious, I had to admit. It was a complete 180, with nothing in between.
“I just rushed over here after learning the news. When I saw you, I couldn't help myself.” She pulled a handkerchief out of somewhere and dabbed her eyes.
“Well I can tell you now, I'm not guilty,” I said, like that would matter.
“That's what all the murderers say,” Sarai said, not at all helpfully. Miles shushed her.
“Why'd you kill her?” Millie asked, sadly.
“I didn't kill her,” I said, wondering how the rumor was getting around so fast, and who was spreading it. As far as I knew, Ethan should've found the surveillance footage, and I should've been cleared. Maybe he hadn’t gotten there. Maybe he was investigating and hadn’t got the footage. Or maybe something else was going on. I needed to check in with him.
“I don't believe you,” she said sadly. Her movements were agitated, like she was about to start shouting again, even in the midst of blowing her nose.
Miles took a step forward, although what he was going to do to diffuse the situation, I wasn't sure.
“Millie,” a sharp yet firm voice said instead, catching all of us off guard.
I turned around, surprised to see Adelaide, the older woman from the night before.
“Addie!” Sarai shouted. She bounded over, apparently ignoring the tension. She wrapped her arms around Addie's arm, supporting her even though I doubted she needed it. For all that Addie seemed to look frail, I had a feeling she was stronger than she showed.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Adelaide – Addie – said tartly.
Millie raised an eyebrow, as if she was going to retort. But then she looked at Miles, at Sarai, and didn’t speak. Her eyes blazed, like if she could light me on fire with a look she would. She gave each of us one long, lingering look before she turned and left without a word.
We stood there in silence for probably ten or twenty seconds after she had vanished, as if trying to put together what happened. “Anybody else confused?” I asked. “Or is it just me?
“Not just you,” Miles said, although he didn’t sound thrilled about it. I hid a grin.
“I heard she was in town,” Addie said, and she looked dismayed at the thought. Then she turned to Sarai, her eyes narrowing. “What are you doing here, young lady?” Her mouth turned down in disapproval. “I know you had a Spanish lesson today.”
“Didn't want to,” Sarai said, hunching down in a way she hadn’t when Miles had talked to her.
“Sarai.” Addie’s voice was sharp. “That’s not a good excuse.”
Surprisingly, Sarai actually looked contrite. She was listening to this woman in a way that she hadn’t listened to her father five minutes ago.
“She's probably worried to death,” Addie continued.
“Her mom?” I asked, and then I winced.
“Sarai has a homeschool tutor,” Miles said.
“Babysitter,” Sarai muttered.
Either way, it didn’t sound fun.
“She can't keep them very long, though,” Miles said, glancing at his daughter with amused resignation. “She's a free spirit, and not very well suited to formal education.”
Sarai didn’t seem to be listening, instead focusing on Mocha now.
“That’s one way to describe her,” Addie said, but her voice was fond.
I smiled faintly. “Wait until she’s a teenager.”
Miles winced. “I try not to think about that.” He gave me a dark look, like I was to blame for his lighthearted reaction. Then he turned to Sarai. “We should probably go make sure poor Estella hasn't had a heart attack,” Miles said with a sigh.
I watched Sarai pout and open her mouth to complain, but then she stopped. Instead, I saw something like lightning in her eyes. She wasn’t wearing jewelry, so maybe it was a weird reflection of the sun.
I shook my head to clear it and drew their attention. I could almost feel Mocha rolling her eyes, even though she didn't move. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just shrugged, my cheeks heating up. I felt like a clumsy teenager again.
“Sarai, let’s go.” He gave me one more look, analytical to the core.
“We'll see you tomorrow,” Sarai said, waving to me before bounding off after her father, apparently oblivious to Miles’s sigh.
“We won't see her tomorrow,” Miles said, trying to sound patient.
“We will,” Sarai said, the epitome of confidence.
“How do you know that?” Miles didn’t sound impressed. “I'm the parent here.”
I couldn’t see Sarai’s grin, but I could feel it
. “You are,” she said. “But I'm the one that makes things happen.”
They turned around a corner and I couldn’t hear them any more. Instead I turned to look at Addie, who was watching me.
“She's a firecracker,” she said, approvingly.
“She really is,” I agreed. Silence reigned for a moment, my head spinning over everything that had happened. “Her mother died?”
“That's why they moved here,” she said with a nod. “He lost his wife to cancer and was injured in the line of duty not long after. Sarai was only six. It was a new start for both of them.”
I winced, feeling a lot for this man I didn't know. To be a single father, to lose your wife to cancer and your livelihood at the same time – you had to be strong to survive all of that. “Is that why he's poking around the murder?”
“Cops like to know everything, and the fact that he doesn't know drives him crazy.” She had a smirk on her face, like she was laughing at something but too polite to laugh out loud. “He didn’t lose that when he lost his job.”
“Aren’t there ethics about that or something?” I looked skeptical.
“He was a homicide detective.” Addie turned her sharp gaze on me, as if finding something hilarious about what I said. “Ethics,” she said, as if the very word was fascinating. “They're interesting in a world of magic.”
“Are they magic?” I asked, thinking of Sarai, her happy go lucky demeanor.
“Oh, no,” Addie said, but there was something complicated in her face. There was a story there. Mentally I added it to the long list of things I wanted to know about at some point. Instead of speaking, I reached down and scratched Mocha’s ears, drawing some comfort from the one thing that had become somewhat familiar in this town.
“You did well,” Mocha said.
I gave her an odd look, not sure where or why that had come from. But Addie was speaking before I could say anything in return. “Sometimes, when she escapes her latest tutor, she’ll come to my shop,” Addie said. “That's how I know her,” she said.
So that wasn’t the first time Sarai had done something like that. Somehow I wasn’t surprised. “She likes you.”
“I remind her of her mother,” Addie said. She looked at me out of the corner of her eyes, gauging my reaction. “She’s not close to her grandparents. They didn’t quite approve of her mother’s choice.”
I nodded, not sure what to say to that. For all her father been somewhat abrupt, Sarai was sweet, and no one deserved that sort of life.
“Lou!”
I almost fell over, Lizbeth’s shout catching me off guard. “I've been looking for you.”
My heart was thundering in my chest, and even deep breathing didn’t make it stop. “I’ve been here,” I said instead, floundering.
“You didn’t answer your phone.” Now that she had seen for herself that I was okay, some of the tension had left her shoulders.
“Oops.” I patted my pocket, since I was certain I’d brought my phone. I had, but it was on silent. “Sorry about that.”
Lizbeth shook her hair, the long straight strands falling past her shoulders. “We're meeting with the head of our magic unit,” she said. “Are you ready?”
Chapter Eight
“Am I –” I swallowed. “What?” I asked, trying not to sound as nervous as I felt. My brain had gone all static-y. Mocha pressed herself against my leg.
“I’ll come with,” she said, her words comforting.
“Thanks,” I said through our bond. I stroked her head once, then straightened up, aware that Lizbeth was still talking.
“She is strict about punctuality,” Lizbeth said matter-of-factly. “We should leave.”
Yeah, I definitely wasn't ready for that. It didn’t look like I had a choice.
“Adelaide,” Lizbeth said, nodding politely to Addie.
Addie smiled back, but Lizbeth's face wasn't as friendly as I would've expected it to be. There was a strange sort of tension, an attempt at warmth that didn’t reach her eyes. Was I not supposed to like Addie? Was there some long-term feud I didn’t know about?
Lizbeth kept talking as we started walking, although I wasn’t entirely paying attention. Instead I glanced at Mocha. “You were really quiet,” I said.
She made a scoffing noise. “I'm allowed to desire silence every once in a while.”
I snorted, then winced, realizing it was obvious that I wasn’t paying attention. Lizbeth had stopped and was looking at us, something close to intrigue on her face. I wasn't really sure why.
“Something wrong?” Had I violated some social norm I didn’t know existed?
“No,” she said, her eyes warm and affectionate. “Nothing’s wrong at all.”
I didn't really believe her, but I didn't really have the expertise to call her out either. Maybe everything was completely fine.
“You look like your mother,” Lizbeth said finally, her eyes sad.
“You were her foster sister?” I asked, falling into step as Lizbeth started walking again.
“Lettie adopted us,” she said. I remembered Lettie vaguely, as the matriarch-like figure who had taken over some of the conversation the night before. “We became a family that way.”
“Mom was my family,” I said. And Dad, I thought, but that was more complicated, and I didn’t feel like sharing that with someone who was still virtually a stranger.
“None of us knew our biological families,” Lizbeth said. “We have biological children now, some of us, but our family is still who we choose to make it.”
I fell a half step behind her, staring at her despite my better instincts telling me not to. Her words had resonated. Family didn’t have to be one or another. I could expand a family here if I wanted to, and I wasn't forgetting my mom, or being dishonest to her. Adding somebody to my life didn't take over from somebody else being there.
Uncomfortable, I dragged my mind away from the topic. “So who am I going to meet?”
“Her name is Belle,” Lizbeth said. “She's interesting.”
“By interesting, I'm guessing you mean terrifying?” I asked, my voice dry.
“You pick up quick.” Lizbeth laughed.
“What is she going to do?” I said, somewhat apprehensive. Lizbeth was taking us further into town, Mocha plodding at my side. “I hope she's not going to test me on anything. I’d fail.”
Lizbeth’s smile was kind. “She's not expecting you to know anything,” she said. “Belle is gruff, but she understands you're from the human world, and she won't pressure you for more than you can give.”
I almost tripped over a crack in the sidewalk, trying to figure out how to phrase what I wanted to say. “What you're saying is not exactly a stellar recommendation.”
“But it’s an honest one.” There was a sparkle of mischief in Lizbeth’s eyes as she turned down a side street and I followed.
I opened my mouth, and then closed it. Yeah, on the list of things I didn't want to know, that would probably rank high. There was nothing like being terrified of a meeting you had to go to.
“I shouldn’t have moved here in the first place,” I muttered.
“But then you'd miss all this fun,” Mocha said, although I wasn't sure if she was teasing me or being serious. Both?
“Both,” Mocha said, amusement in her voice. Apparently, she could read my mind.
Unsettled, I turned my attention to Lizbeth. “So my mom left here?” I asked, figuring I might as well sneak in questions while I could.
There was some pain on Lizbeth's face, but she nodded. “We don't know why,” she said. “But after she got married, she left.”
“Do you think it was –” I made an assumption, but I didn't let it stop me. “My dad?” I asked.
“Could be,” Lizbeth said. “I don't know.” She paused, considering. “When is your birthday?”
“July 29,” I said promptly.
“Could be,” she said thoughtfully. “Timing could match up.” She didn’t sound sure of it, something I co
uld respect. “And you’re what – 27? 28? Maybe it was your dad.”
“Did you know him?” I asked.
Lizbeth shook her head. “Sam was a private person.” Her eyes were downcast now, a subtle way of ending the conversation.
The road she had turned down was leading to a neighborhood I hadn’t seen before, one built more out of wood than flame-resistant stucco. Arizona's architecture didn't make any sense, if you asked me. I mean, why were some things built out of wood, and other things built out of stucco? Were the houses made of wood more expendable?
Cookie-cutter houses lined both sides of the street, some different colors but all the same feel. Some were the one-story ranch houses, some two-stories, and even a few more. They ranged from a typical family home to something that looked fresh out of a real estate magazine.
“Is it one of the mansions?“ I asked, nodding towards the bigger houses.
Lizbeth chuckled. “Nothing of the sort,” she said. “We keep a simple house to use as headquarters.” She stopped, looking at the single-floor house in front of us. “Safer that way.”
The colors were grey and light blue, almost bland. It looked like just a regular old house, not one you could imagine in any way would be associated with magic. But maybe that was the whole point of it. Hiding in plain sight, and all. Only known if you believed magic was something in the first place. I wasn’t sure I’d gotten that far yet.
Lizbeth led me to the door and then knocked on it. I followed, half intimidated, half not. Whoever this headmistress was, she couldn't be any worse than some of the old bosses I’d had. Or if she was, she'd have to work pretty hard at it.
To my relief, the person who opened the door was Theo.
I glanced at Lizbeth, surprised. “Theo and Wren will be supervising your training,” she explained. “They’re here to attend the preliminary meeting.”
I nodded as if that made sense. Preliminary what?
“She’s a bit full of herself,” Mocha said, rearing up on her hind legs and sniffing my pocket. “Treats?”
“Who?” I asked. “Oh.” My heart fell. “We didn’t get you food.”
“After this.” Mocha sounded both disappointed and satisfied.
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