“Nope,” Sarai said. She sounded almost disappointed.
Ethan sighed. “I can take her home,” he said, glancing at the clock on the wall.
“No,” Kerrity said, cutting him off. “I think it's only fair that our guest should.”
“Okay,” I said, a lot less bothered by that than she would have thought I was.
I’d already dealt with Miles and his daughter before. I knew her. She probably wasn't going to pull the same shenanigans. If she did, well, that was on me.
I turned to look at Sarai, who was looking at me with a skeptical expression. “You agreed,” she said, staring at me like I was about to explode.
“You can hear.” I pretended to gasp. “Yes, I’ll take you home.” The sarcasm probably wasn’t warranted, but I could feel guilty about it later.
She narrowed her eyes at me, as if she was trying to judge my intentions. I had caught her off guard somehow, something I just added to my long list of things to figure out.
Given that even I didn’t know what my intentions were, good luck with that.
“Okay,” she said, surprising me more than anybody. “Let's go.”
She beat me out the door, although I was on her heels, and I could hear Ethan shouting the address. I didn’t think I would need it, given how she was practically running to the car.
“What was that?” I asked, getting in the driver’s seat. Ethan had given me the address, but I was too new to town to make any sense of it. I figured Sarai would give me directions.
Sarai crossed her arms over her chest, staring out the window. She seemed bothered by something, like she had expected me to fail or do something different. “A test.”
I started the car, musing over her words. “What were you testing me for?”
“Turn right,” Sarai said, nodding to the road. I did, grateful the speed limit was lower so going slow wasn’t going to hamper anyone else. She was quiet for a while, and I considered repeating my question. “I wanted to see if you murdered that lady.”
I took my hand off of the steering wheel and rubbed my forehead. “I'm not sure –”
“I know, it wasn't a real test,” Sarai said dismissively. She gave me a few more directions, still not looking at me. “You're nice,” she said, sounding like it physically pained her to say the words. “I don't meet many nice people.”
Many that were nice to her, if I had to bet. Maybe that was the reason she was homeschooled.
“That's not fair,” I said, and I meant it.
There was a bitter twist to her lips. “Life isn't fair,” she said.
I hated that somebody her age could say something so jaded and mean it. I couldn’t imagine losing my mother as young as she had.
“I don't think you did it,” Sarai said suddenly, catching me off guard. “I really don’t.”
“You said that earlier,” I said, thinking back to a prior conversation. Sarai shrugged. “I didn't murder her, but why the sudden change of heart?”
“You were nice to me,” Sarai said.
Not exactly a good reason. Nor the one I expected. But then she kept talking.
“I almost threw you under the bus,” Sarai said. “You very easily could have destroyed the story, especially since you were innocent.”
I held my breath.
“But you didn't.” She finally looked at me, something weighty to her gaze. “I think you may even be a good person.”
All I could do while driving was sneak glances at her out of the corner of my eyes. “Okay,” I said, not sure what else to say. “Did your dad put you up to this?” Given what I knew about the man, it seemed like the kind of the off-the-wall thing he would do to get my guard down and accuse me of who knew what.
She snorted. The exasperated gesture seemed tired and worldly, odd for one so young. “No,” she said. “He's going to be mad.”
Great. I didn't say that out loud, but I thought it. He was going to be grumpy, and it was going to be my fault, because I was bringing her back.
“Are you going to date him?” Sarai asked.
I almost slammed on the brakes. It was long experience that kept me driving, with no harm to myself or the passenger involved. “Where'd that come from?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could.
She shrugged. “He's lonely.”
Deciding that the conversation had gotten far too intimate for my liking, and probably for Miles’s too, if he had been aware of it, I cleared my throat. “How much further?”
There was a significant pause, and I could see Sarai shaking her head as if she was resigned to me. “You're bad at changing the subject,” Sarai informed me.
“And you're far too good at it,” I told her. She sounded far too old for being ten years old. There was an adult in her eyes.
Sarai looked smug at the compliment, and it made her look younger. She didn’t seem apprehensive about heading home. That made sense, given how many times she had escaped before.
Almost too soon we pulled up into a driveway, the rocks crunching underneath before giving way to smooth concrete. Miles stood just outside of the door, arms crossed over his chest and eyes flat. He seemed angry, but mildly so. But maybe he was that slow simmering type of angry, like it would take a bit, but then he'd explode, and it’d be crazy.
Once the car was parked, Sarai hopped out.
There didn't seem to be a nervous babysitter around, and I wondered exactly how common Sarai’s escaping was. Did they have a protocol? When she disappeared, did the babysitter even bother looking? Or maybe Miles had dismissed her after hearing Sarai had left.
Not that it really was my business, given that she wasn't my daughter and I was just looking after her. But one had to wonder.
“Again?” Miles said, his voice tight. “And with her?” He looked pointedly at me. He looked like he considered sort of apologizing for the insult, but then didn't. I didn't know if I would've believed it anyway.
Sarai didn’t answer, just tucking her hands behind her, listening.
“Do you know how much worry you cause?” he asked her. His voice was flat in that sort of tone disapproving parents had, when they weren’t really mad, more disappointed, and that was even worse.
“A lot,” she said. She didn’t sound apologetic. If anything, she sounded defiant.
“Yet that's why you do it,” he said, shaking his head.
“I get bored.” Another shrug.
I couldn’t help but be captivated by the conversation, the dynamic between the two. Sarai wasn’t as perfect as she seemed to be – she had her own problems, her own defiance. Miles tried, but even he didn’t know how to handle his daughter. I was intruding on something that wasn’t meant for me.
I inched back, trying not to look too conspicuous about it.
“Stop.”
I froze, looking at Miles like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.
“How did you find her?” he asked.
“Technically she found me,” I said. “She showed up at the coffee shop.”
He glanced at me with some surprise, and then looked at Sarai, as if trying to figure out whether or not I was telling the truth. “Why?”
I opened my mouth before realizing the question hadn't been addressed to me. Thank heavens, because I wasn't sure how to answer.
“She's interesting,” Sarai said with a defiant shrug. “Unlike boring Miss Homer.”
“She is one of the best –”
“—tutors,” Sarai said with a roll of her eyes. “But she's boring.”
Miles ran a hand through his hair, the movement stiff and jerky. He was attractive, and I wished I didn’t have to admit it. Maybe if he was less cranky, his daughter less crazy. Or, you know, any of us had our lives sorted out. Especially since I didn't even know if I'd be staying anywhere near town.
Not that any of it mattered, because it didn’t. He was hot, and as strange as Sarai could be, I still felt affection for her. But none of that mattered.
“Thank you,” Miles said, a
lmost like the words hurt him to say.
“You're welcome,” I said, inching towards my car door.
“Can she watch me?” Sarai asked suddenly, popping up right next to me.
“No,” Miles said without even thinking about it. It probably wasn’t a difficult decision to him. To him, I was a suspect in a murder. But it did sound kind of harsh, from an outside perspective.
“You're being stupid,” Sarai said, in the type of voice that I thought was about to get her in a lot of trouble.
Miles stiffened, apparently not thrilled at being rebuked in front of company.
“I found her, I didn't run away from her.” Sarai’s voice was bitter. There was history there, history I didn’t know about. “She didn't kill the old lady.”
“And when did you become an expert detective?” Miles asked with steely patience.
“Yesterday,” she said, giving him a cocky look. The air had lightened, the tension passing.
He shook his head, his eyes lighter. But when he looked at me, his eyes were still somber. “Thank you for returning her,” he said, making it clear that the discussion was over. Then he headed inside, Sarai behind him. She threw me a pair of thumbs up, a broad grin on her face.
I still had no idea what had happened. Or what I had signed up for. I got back in the car, figuring I could find out later.
Chapter Fifteen
At least this time Belle had let us host the lesson somewhere less formal. I sat at Wren’s table, a blank paper sheet in front of me.
“Let's start with a review,” Wren said, faux cheerfully.
“Okay,” I said, not very enthusiastic.
I could see an apology on her face, but it was the patient sort. The type of teacher that knew it was boring, but it was important anyway. “I know this is all very basic,” she said. “But the foundation is very important.”
“It’s that way in human stuff too,” I said. It didn't mean I had to enjoy it, but it did mean that I understood why it was done. Whether it was culinary, medicine, or anything else, it all started with the basics.
“All right,” Wren said. “We're going to test your familiarity with runes.”
I wasn't quite sure how optimistic to be, given it had been a bit since I'd seen them. And I certainly hadn’t been practicing when she wasn't around.
Not that I was going to tell her that, although I had a sneaking suspicion she already knew.
“Okay,” I said. She went to the whiteboard, because who didn’t have a whiteboard in their living room, and started drawing a symbol, one line at a time.
Pictionary. I’d never been very good at that game.
The curved lines and straight, almost like a –
“Locks,” I said. I didn't know what else I'd learned in that meeting with Addie, but I'd at least learned something.
Surprise flashed over Wren’s face, quickly hidden. She hadn’t expected me to get it right. I wasn’t sure whether that was reassuring or a source of dismay. Then again, I had only had one lesson. She kept going. I got about half of them right, recognizing them from Addie’s tutelage. There was the light switch, which wasn't really a light switch, but it was for light, and that was close enough. There was one for water, there was one for people. The runes I recognized were little things, but brick by brick, you could build something bigger with them.
When Wren seemed to be done, she leaned back, looking at me thoughtfully. “Who taught you?”
I glanced at her. “That obvious?”
“Even naturals don't pick it up that fast.” Her smile was kind. “They don’t tend to be intuitive.”
I made a face as if I was offended, but she clearly wasn't buying it. “Addie,” I admitted.
It seemed to take her a few seconds to place the name, then her eyebrows raised. “The woman with the shop?”
It reminded me a bit of the weird vibe I’d gotten, but I nodded. “She lives in the other apartment above the coffee shop.”
There was something tight to Wren’s lips. “Okay,” she said, although if you asked me, she didn't sound particularly convinced.
“Was it wrong?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
The air deflated out of Wren like a balloon. “No,” she said. “We just don't often associate with her.”
That caught me off guard. “Why?” I asked. She seemed like a perfectly nice little old lady.
Wren shrugged, as if that was as much a she felt like discussing the topic. “Family is weird.”
When it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything else, I turned back to the runes in front of me. “When are we going to actually do anything with this?” I asked, my tone playful.
Wren opened her mouth, as if to lecture, and then she grinned. “You are an adult,” she said.
“Does that mean I get to do adult things?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes. “It means we can break the rules for you a bit.”
I was more than down with that. At that point, I was bored sick of rules.
“What did she teach you?” Wren asked. She glanced at the clock, and I followed, though I wasn't sure why. As far as I knew, we weren't really on a timetable.
“Hold the symbols in my mind,” I recited obediently. “Will is important, so is intention.”
There was a surprised look again, as if Wren couldn't decide what to think. “That's correct,” she said.
“Of course it is,” Mocha muttered. I turned around in my seat, looking for her. She’d wandered off that morning, muttering about some business she had to take care of. I’d gotten sort of used to it, her appearances and disappearances. I still hadn’t quite gotten used to her reappearances, situated on the floor curled up like she had been there the entire time.
But it was nice having her around. No matter how strange the world got, no matter how strange a talking dog was, there was something steadying about her presence.
“Lou?” Wren asked, trying to get my attention.
I nodded towards Mocha leaning against the wall, and she even lifted her head from her paws.
“Snarky commentary,” I said.
“The only kind that's worth it,” Mocha said. When I turned to look back at Wren, to apologize, she was watching me with a smile.
“Familiars are nice,” she said.
I glanced around, and then paused. Was it rude to ask? Did Cleo vanish as often as Mocha did?
“Mine likes to hide,” Wren said with a faint smile. “Cleo,” she said, her voice louder. Her eyes were slightly unfocused, as if she was talking to something in her mind. Then she rolled her eyes. “I don't care, come out here.”
I was more grateful than I cared to admit that it sounded like somebody else had a familiar as sassy as mine.
There was a disgruntled meow, and then a cat appeared, tail sticking up like a bottle brush.
“You can't even have been napping that long,” Wren said, her eyes fond but exasperated. “Her life is tragic,” Wren said dryly.
“We’ll get along fabulously,” Mocha said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. “Time to talk about the humans.”
I glanced at Wren. “Can familiars talk to each other?”
Wren looked surprised. “I never really thought about that,” she said. She frowned. “They're just always thought of as individuals, that it didn't even occur to me.” Her eyes went unfocused, like she was talking to Cleo. “Probably,” she said after a while. “I don't see why not.”
“I'm not going to answer,” Mocha said when I looked at her. “We don't give away our secrets.”
I rolled my eyes. I would've bet the answer was yes, but there was no way Mocha was going to confirm it now.
“All right,” I said, turning back to the lesson at hand. “What's next?”
“The big guns,” Wren said, leaning back ominously in her chair. “We'll need to schedule an aptitude test.”
“A what?” I had heard of those through the temp agency, but I couldn’t think of magical applications.
Wren
’s smile was bright. “Our magic is all the same,” she said. “But each of us have different specialties.”
“So you can only do one type of magic?”
Wren shook her head. “We can all do the same types,” she said. “But our magic is geared to match one type more specifically.”
I didn't really see how that made sense, if you asked me, but I wasn't the teacher. “What's yours?” I asked.
Wren smiled faintly. “Revealing,” she said. “I'm best at seeing things that don't want to be seen.”
I studied her, going over what I knew of her in my mind. That definitely didn't fit somebody working at a craft shop.
Apparently, I was transparent, because she laughed.
“That's the difference with the aptitude test,” Wren said, a relaxed sort of amusement twisting her lips. “Just because that may be where your magic lies, doesn't mean that needs to be where you stay.”
That was kind of reassuring, in a way. That just because my magic said one thing didn’t mean I was stuck to that as a job option. Although I had no idea where my magic would lie. Or even how I would take this aptitude test.
“But, that's for later,” Wren said, clapping her hands together. “First, we’re going to torture you with basic spells.”
“What about practical ones?” I asked hopefully. Basics were all good, but I wanted to be able to do something.
Wren tensed, although she tried and failed to hide it. “What has Addie been teaching you?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Just how to read some of the runes in my apartment.” It was technically true. I didn't want to tell Wren, risk alienating her. I wasn’t sure why there was a tension between her and Addie, but I didn’t want to get either of them in trouble.
“Let's start with wards and locks,” Wren said, teasing. “Since you seem to be so obsessed with them.”
“If you stopped locking them all…” I teased back. My current existence had been managed by locked doors. Some I had been granted a pass through, others still seemed impassable, although not without help. No one seemed to know that Addie had let me visit the coffee shop, and I planned to keep it that way.
“Right.” Wren looked a little bit frazzled, as if she'd been thrown a curveball. I could not have pointed out what made me think that. Maybe the way she leaned back in her chair, the way her shoulders were down but tense. The way she kept looking at me and then the lesson. It was the small things that all added up to her being nervous.
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