Percy backed out into traffic, a car honked and swerved around us, and he continued driving. “Speaking of dead,” he said, not looking at me, “Flor is.”
“Yes.”
“Thanks to you,” he said.
“Don’t blame her, it was my fault,” Birdie said. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t know my own strength, I guess.”
“You should work on that,” he said.
His sour mood surprised me. “I didn’t know you liked Flor,” I said.
“I don’t approve of killing.” He swerved right on Diamond Street and hit the gas. The street rose sharply to a plateau for a block, then careened down again at Twenty-First into the Castro.
In the back seat, Birdie yelped and grabbed the handle above the window. Looking at her in the rearview mirror, Percy seemed to regret his aggressive driving and pumped the brakes.
When we’d slowed to a normal speed, I said, “We don’t either. Especially not one of my oldest, dearest friends.” Being interrogated by the Protectorate had put me in a lying mood.
He glanced at me. “I forgot about that.” At the next stop sign, he cleared his throat and said, “Sorry.”
I had the feeling I’d witnessed the worst of Percy’s temper, and he was already back to his self-effacing, self-doubting self.
A perfect time to ask a few questions.
“Did you steal the ring?” I asked abruptly.
He braked, sped up, swerved around a cyclist. “Excuse me?”
“The opal ring. You stole it. Right?”
“The item entrusted to me on November the twenty-eighth should’ve been found in the room with Protector Bosko’s corpse,” he said.
“But before that, it was with you,” I said. “Without your master’s permission.”
He pressed his lips together and began casting a spell that tugged at my thoughts like a catchy tune. Even with me prepared for it, his mind magic was strong enough to make me suddenly obsess about eating a burrito.
“Stop that,” I said, throwing up a blocking spell, although I still craved the burrito. Food was much better in San Francisco than what I could get up in Silverpool. “They’re done questioning me. I didn’t tell them what you did. I just want to hear it from you.”
He looked in the rearview mirror again. Although I’d blocked his spell from my mind, I hadn’t protected Birdie. She’d fallen asleep with her head tilted back and her mouth half-open.
“I couldn’t let him kill again,” Percy said in a low voice. “I knew he’d use the ring as an excuse to go after perfectly decent, law-abiding, kindhearted…”
I waited a second before interjecting, “Demons?”
He gripped the steering wheel, and I had the impression he was frustrated he couldn’t zap my brain to stop the threatening questions. “Individuals,” he said. “Of all kinds.”
“But then you put it back when you saw he’d been killed. You knew it would get you in trouble.”
“I’d already lost my guts, just taking it for a few hours. All my adult life, I’d been working toward the moment I would finally have the courage to kill him. But year after year, I just couldn’t do it. I told myself it was because I didn’t want to lower myself to his level, but deep down I knew the truth: I was a coward.” He maneuvered the car up and down the crowded four-lane route along Divisadero Street. “Then he got that ring and killed your father’s bride. She was so beautiful. Your dad was happy. Who are we to interfere? To kill her in the middle of a sacred Circle? I tried to steal the ring after that. I knew he’d use it to track down and murder as many beings as he could and be rewarded for it, too. But Raynor wisely locked it up. Bosko needed to find an excuse to get it again, so he took the Silverpool job. I doubt he would’ve stayed a year, but he’d get the opal, make it his, and find a way to keep it.”
I was touched by his compassion for my father and Vera. He was the only Protectorate witch I’d ever met who shared my disapproval of knee-jerk demon killing.
“I tried to just… not bring it to him,” Percy continued. “I almost threw it off the Golden Gate Bridge. But…” He pounded the steering wheel. “I couldn’t do it. Even though I’d already met Flor and knew her secret—it was at the top of her mind, and I read it in her. I tried to warn her, but she wouldn’t listen. I told her to find another job, that Bosko would be a terrible master to her. I didn’t tell her why I knew it would be dangerous—”
“That you knew she was demon marked,” I said.
“Yes, I didn’t want her to worry about me knowing her secret,” he said.
“I think you’re lucky to be alive,” I said. “If she’d known you knew she was demon marked, she might’ve killed you too.”
“I don’t believe that,” he said. “She was sweet. Whatever she did to Bosko was in self-defense.”
“The bow looked sweet, but it nearly killed me,” I said. She’d fooled a lot of people over the years with her preppy little-girl look.
“So you say.” He turned left onto Lombard, and we headed to the Golden Gate Bridge.
“That night, though, you did finally take the ring,” I said.
“I realized he’d destroy her the second he shook her hand,” he said. “I made him send her instead of me for takeout and then gave him more springwater than I usually let him have. One reason he keeps me around—kept me around, that is—was my ability to hold his addiction in check most of the time. I could stop the cravings. But sometimes he had me turn that off and let him have a bender.”
“When his guard was down, you took the ring,” I said.
He nodded. “I took it with me to the moon party with my girlfriend. It was on the beach, and the setting and the enchantments of the party would put it completely out of tracking range.”
Even the genie hadn’t been able to find it, I thought.
“But then,” he continued, “I changed my mind again. I convinced myself they would find me, give it back to him, and I’d lose the chance to get my real revenge.”
“But he was dead,” I said.
He nodded. “I put it back in the trunk and went for a drive, not sure if I should come back. Obviously I did. I’ve been terrified they’d find me out.”
“You’re safe,” I said. “They know Flor—”
“I’m always safe,” he spat out. “It’s pathetic. Flor knew him for less than a week and took care of him. Bam. Just like that. The witch was dead. He’ll never kill again. No thanks to me.”
“She would’ve killed you too,” I said. “She was just as much a monster as he—”
“I don’t believe it. You’re just rationalizing it so you don’t feel guilty about killing her.”
Even if it was me instead of Birdie who had killed Flor, I didn’t think I’d feel guilty about it. Sad and angry, yes. Guilty? No. She’d almost killed me. I’d been about to run down the bright tunnel and discover the mysteries of the afterlife. “Her death was unintentional,” I said. “I wish she were alive so she could face justice for what she did.”
“The Protectorate doesn’t care about justice,” he said. “It’s rotten to the core. I’ve resigned and am only driving up there again to get my stuff. My girlfriend and I are going to open a school in Oregon. A nice one for witch kids of all backgrounds. You won’t need an old name or a lot of Protectorate connections to be treated well.”
We were driving over the Golden Gate Bridge, the morning traffic heavy on the other side of the divider. The orange-gold beams of the bridge arched over our heads, heavy with fairies of all sizes, some naked, some dressed in furs or flowers, scattering into the air as we approached.
“Sounds really nice,” I said. “I wish you well.”
He patted the steering wheel, glancing nervously at me. “You aren’t going to tell anyone what you know?”
“Know what?” I asked, eyes wide.
He frowned, shaking his head. “You’re not what people say you are.”
“Which people?”
“You know. At the Protectorate.
They said you were too weak to kill demons. That you only got the job because of your last name.”
“That’s not all wrong,” I said.
“You want people to think that. But it’s not true. Flor is dead. Silverpool is saved. You could’ve had me sent to the Mojave, but you didn’t—which you were sure to let me know.” He pulled out a pair of sunglasses and put them on. “You lied through your teeth for sixteen hours to the most powerful Emerald mage in the Protectorate, who didn’t realize it, and now you’re headed back to a town with a wellspring that, once again, has no Protector.”
“What did I lie about?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but I could taste the omission in every word you spoke. They didn’t feel it, but I did.”
Had he felt the genie’s lock on my tongue? I tried to sway him from his conviction that I had a secret. “It’s true I never killed a demon,” I said. “And it’s true the Protectorate recruited me because I was a Bellrose.”
He shook his head, staring at the road. “You might be a Bright witch, but I hope I never see you again,” he said. “You’re scary.”
Scary? Me?
I turned my head away, looking out the window at the tendrils of fog shimmering in the warm light of dawn.
I liked the sound of that.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The evacuation spell in Silverpool had ceased by the time we arrived, but from the scarcity of cars on the highway into town, it seemed people were slow to realize they could return. It would take time for everyone to forget why they’d left, and Raynor had assured me they’d reach out and lure back those who needed help remembering, like the Souters.
At my request, Percy drove directly to the winery, where my Jeep was still parked near Birdie’s RAV4.
“I guess this is goodbye,” Percy said, opening his door.
I reached back and shook Birdie’s knee. “Wake up. We’re home.”
It actually had been her home for a little while after she’d inherited it from Tristan, but she’d never moved in.
She stretched, yawned, and looked around. “Where are we?”
“The winery,” I said, smiling at her sleepy face. “Your car is here from the other day.”
“I can go now?” she asked.
“Free as a bird,” I said. “I’ll see you later. I want to get something inside. Will you be all right on your own?”
Birdie got out of the car. “This is where I killed her,” she said, staring at the spot under the arbor.
“And where she almost killed me,” I said.
With an unhappy grunt, Percy strode away from us to the house. With a shudder, Birdie turned around and walked to her car, reaching into her purse for her keys. “I’m glad we don’t have to leave Silverpool,” she said. “I kind of like it here.”
Her understatement made me laugh. “Yes, me too,” I said.
She yawned, got in her car, and drove away, waving. I waited until she was out of sight to go over to the tasting room. It was a Saturday, and in spite of the near destruction of the town the day before, it seemed to be open.
I walked inside and stopped when I saw the man in the apron behind the counter.
Darius.
“Is this my fault?” I asked, walking over.
He pushed a menu at me. “Probably. Raynor says I’m in charge of getting the town back to normal. New York doesn’t want any of the other agents thinking too hard about what happened here. They’re doing a combination of memory hexing and reassignments to cover up the incident.”
I shook my head, disgusted with the Protectorate’s aggressive tactics. “If any of those poor Flints come here and ask me, I’m not going to lie. I’ll help them remember—even the times I was rough on them. Nobody should have their brain altered just for a job.”
He tapped the menu and pushed it closer. “Raynor refused to help them, for what it’s worth. They didn’t like that at all.”
I smiled, imagining how shocked the Emeralds must’ve been to have Raynor, the famously tough demon hunter, take the side of his subordinates instead of his superiors.
I glanced over the list of wines, then up at the chalkboard, which usually listed the daily offering of crackers, cheese, olives, and chocolate, but today was wiped clean.
“No food?” I asked. I still hadn’t gotten over that burrito fantasy.
Darius reached under the counter and handed over a half-eaten energy bar. “You can finish my breakfast for me.”
I was hungry enough to accept it. “I’d like the most expensive bottle you have,” I said, taking a bite. “Something rare.”
“They don’t have price tags. I’m just here for show.”
I looked over the menu, flipped through it for the highest number, and showed him the name. “That one. Please.”
He started to argue but stopped himself. “What do I care? You deserve it.” He disappeared into the back for several minutes, then returned with two bottles. “One bottle isn’t going to last you very long.”
I reached into my pocket. “Do you know how to work the register?”
He waved that off. “Forget it.”
“Thank you, but actually, I have to pay. At least for one of the bottles.” I pushed my credit card at him. “If you don’t know how to run it up, I can show you—”
He took the card. “I know how. I just thought you deserved an unofficial thank-you from the town of Silverpool.” He scanned the bottle and swiped my card. “But you’re too goody-goody for that. An Incurable Inability to break the rules.”
I ignored his goading, took the bottles, and smiled at him as I turned to go. “Come by later and we can share one of these,” I said. “I’ll tell Willy to leave you alone.”
“I’d rather drink a goblin’s bathwater out of an old boot,” he said. “No offense, but that gnome is a menace. I’m not going anywhere near your house ever again.”
I saluted him with the bottles and went out to my Jeep, grinning.
Jen Bardak seemed as if she’d developed a taste for human luxuries. I drove to Cypress Hardware, noticed the coffee kiosk and hot dog truck were back in business, and went inside with one of the bottles.
I set it on the table near the hammock, then sat down in the tilting lawn chair from our previous meeting. Perhaps after the holidays, I’d have enough extra cash to buy it for myself.
“What now?” Jen asked behind me. “This is dangerous for both of us, you must know.”
I rocked the chair up and down, imagining where I’d put it in my backyard. Maybe Willy would enjoy it too.
“I just have one question,” I said. “I hope you like wine.”
She was already holding it, stroking the glass. “Tristan said this was his best year.”
“Will you accept it as payment for answering my question?”
Nodding, she perched on the edge of a vinyl-cushioned ottoman and waited for me to say aloud what was already in my mind.
“When was the first time Flor visited Cypress Hardware?” I asked.
“The week before your father’s wedding,” she said.
It all fell into place. Flor was not only responsible for Bosko’s death but for Vera’s. She’d wished to work in Silverpool as an apprentice to the new Protector, whoever he or she would be. Had she come to reunite with me, her old classmate, and see if I could put a word in for her? Or had she just come to see the fae, who had always fascinated her because of her special ability to see them? Either way, she’d come to Silverpool and ended up at Cypress Hardware, which was the only major retailer in town. Maybe she’d had a hot dog. Maybe she’d used the bathroom. But she’d sensed the genie’s magic and made her wish.
“What did she pay you then?” I asked.
The genie stroked the red velvet choker around her neck. “It’s cut from a very old piece of cloth,” she said. “Almost as old as I am.”
I nodded. It had been loaded with power like all those hair bows she’d worn.
That wish of hers had led to a series of odd co
incidences: her invitation to my father’s wedding, even though we hadn’t been friends for ages; Bosko’s arrival in San Francisco just as the opal ring had become available for borrowing; Bosko’s presence at the wedding after he got the ring; Vera’s existence as the bride. The series of events allowed Flor to step forward and prove her merit to Bosko, who gave her the job in Silverpool.
Her ambition had actually killed two people—Bosko and Vera. One of them happened to be a demon.
I climbed out of the chair and moved to leave. “Thanks. I’ll try not to visit you again.”
She stood up, holding the bottle. “This is worth more than those little questions,” she said. “May I offer you a piece of advice?”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I hesitated. Maybe she was having second thoughts about letting me walk around with her secret. “Is that a trick?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. I’m incapable of lying.” She looked around her store. “At least in here.”
I debated the wisdom of taking her offer for another moment, but of course I wanted to know whatever she had to tell me. “If it is freely given with no further burden upon me, then yes, I’d like to hear it.”
She cradled the bottle against her waist. “Trust no one.”
I waited for more, disappointed. “That’s it?”
She nodded.
“Thanks,” I said. “I suppose it’s always good to have my life choices reaffirmed.”
Out from behind her, Random ran up between the aisles, dragging a leash. A clerk—I was relieved to see Samantha again, looking healthy—was chasing after him.
Random galloped over to me and jumped up to kiss me. Samantha, short of breath, asked, “Isn’t that your dog?”
“Yes, how’d he get here?”
“He turned up during the fire,” Samantha said. “I tried to call the number on his collar, but the phones were out. Jen and I fed him. Kept him safe. He’s a sweetie.”
I nuzzled Random’s neck, soothing him as best I could, but he was frantic to be reunited. Thanking them both, I took the leash, distracted by Random’s continuing wriggling, jumping, and whining, and went out to my car. I was going to feel a lot better once my belongings, my dog, and myself were back safe at home.
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