《Blind As A Witch》


 Prologue - Six Years Ago

    The brass bell above the shop door let out a bright chime. A soft breeze followed a second later, as if it¡¯d been summoned by the noise. The cool air wrapped around Nolan Kirby before disappearing when the door shut.


    He smiled and put down the jar he was holding. ¡°Good morning.¡±


    The person who¡¯d come in didn¡¯t answer.


    As Kirby walked over to the stool beside the checkout counter, he said, ¡°Is there anything I can help you find?¡±


    ¡°No. Thank you.¡±


    Whoever she was, she was young. He guessed around ten or eleven years old. Certainly no older than twelve.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t been in here before, have you?¡± he said.


    ¡°No.¡±


    Young, and not much for conversation.


    Kirby sat down facing the front of the store. He¡¯d be out of the way now. ¡°Are you a student?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    The girl moved with light, hesitating steps, but she forced her voice to be loud and definite.


    A strange combination, Kirby thought.


    ¡°Thomas or Saufgrove?¡± Kirby grabbed his long cane from where it was leaning up against the counter.


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    ¡°You know about Saufgrove?¡±


    There was both surprise and suspicion in her question. Kirby bit back his laugh; he didn¡¯t want to offend the girl with the nervous walk but a bold voice.


    ¡°I know most of my customers come from there,¡± he explained.


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    The ¡°oh¡± had sounded quiet and thoughtful. Kirby suspected the girl¡¯s assumptions had been shaken and she was undergoing some mental adjustment.


    Kirby moved his cane so it was in front of him. ¡°Do you like your school?¡±


    ¡°Do you always talk this much?¡±


    ¡°Usually I talk a lot more, but you¡¯re making conversation a little difficult for me.¡±


    She didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry though,¡± Kirby assured her. ¡°It¡¯s only a little difficult. I talk to plants all day long. I can carry the whole conversation by myself if I have to.¡±


    ¡°Why would you talk to plants?¡±


    That question was equal parts incredulity and scorn.


    Kirby smiled. Oh, to be young enough to know everything.


    He said, ¡°They grow better that way. Plants are just like people¡ªthey do better when you give them attention.¡±


    ¡°Do they talk back to you?¡±


    Kirby laughed out loud. Another girl might have asked that in a voice full of curiosity and wonder. Not this one. He was dealing with a pint-sized cynic who didn¡¯t believe in fairy tales. It sounded like she was checking his sanity.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± he said, ¡°but maybe someday. I¡¯m always listening, just in case.¡±


    She hesitated; the boards under her feet let out a soft groan as she shifted her weight, there was a moment of silence¡ªthen she moved further away, toward the shelves.


    He let her browse for a few seconds before trying again.


    ¡°May I ask your name?¡± he said.


    ¡°Olivia.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s good to meet you, Olivia. My name¡¯s Nolan Kirby. If you have any questions at all, let me know.¡±


    ¡°How much are those?¡±


    ¡°That depends entirely on what you¡¯re pointing at. Do you know its name?¡±


    ¡°This one! Right here. Can¡¯t you see it?¡± She sounded irritated, as if he was being difficult on purpose.


    I probably shouldn¡¯t have teased her.


    ¡°No,¡± Kirby said.


    Her voice grew louder when she turned to face him. ¡°What? Are you blind or some¡ª¡±


    The question choked off with a guttural sound.


    Kirby grinned and tapped the end of his long cane on the floor in front of him. ¡°Oh, sure¡ªyou¡¯re just noticing, but I¡¯m the blind one?¡±

 Chapter 1 - Mail Time

    Late one afternoon, I was crossing through the hall when one of the front doors opened. Darius came in. If I¡¯d been slightly more observant, I might have realized that the vampire was dragging a bit. His pace was slower than normal, he didn¡¯t look up or greet me as he came in, the top button on his shirt was undone, and his tie was loosened by a standard-shattering half inch. But with me being me, the only thing I noticed was that he had a bunch of letters in his hand and two packages under his arm.


    I lunged at him. ¡°Are any of those for me?¡±


    Count Vasil jumped back and dropped half the letters. For a hundredth of a second, I saw a flash of his fangs. Then he relaxed, one hand on his chest, his eyes closed, while I stared, wide-eyed and grinning.


    ¡°Did I startle you?¡± I asked, my voice high with disbelief.


    Darius sighed and rubbed his eyes.


    ¡°How could I possibly startle you?¡± I insisted. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you have heard me coming?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a long week, Emerra.¡±


    We both squatted to pick up the scattered mail.


    ¡°Well,¡± I said, ¡°welcome home. Do we get to keep you for a while?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m here to sleep for thirty-six hours, then I have to go back to work.¡±


    Judging by the way he said that and how tired he looked, he probably meant that he¡¯d be catching up on his sleep debt by napping for thirty-six hours straight.


    My grin faded into a sympathetic smile. ¡°Haven¡¯t caught them yet?¡±


    ¡°Not yet.¡±


    ¡°Is it normal for the FBI to help catch a burglar?¡±


    ¡°I get called in whenever they suspect magic is being used.¡±


    ¡°Is magic being used?¡±


    His eyes narrowed, and he pointed at me with the corner of an envelope. ¡°I will let you know as soon as I do.¡±


    We stood up. Darius started flipping through the envelopes. ¡°Most of these are for Olivia.¡±


    ¡°What about the packages? I¡¯m waiting for some workout clothes.¡±


    When he looked up at me, the normally flat plane of his cheek was bent by the demure, closed-lip smile he used because it kept his fangs hidden. ¡°Is Conrad still teaching you how to fight?¡±


    ¡°Ha! The only thing he¡¯s taught me is that I couldn¡¯t win a fight to save my life. Literally.¡±


    ¡°How inspiring.¡±


    ¡°It is. When it comes to training as a runner, my motivation is through the roof.¡±


    The count¡¯s subtle smile became a lot less subtle.


    I couldn¡¯t blame him. It was funny.


    Even in a place as big as the Noctis mansion, staying inside for too long made me restless. The snow had started on the first of December, and by New Years, I was getting cagey. One bitterly cold January morning, when I couldn¡¯t talk myself into post-holing it over the four new inches of snow in order to take my morning stroll, I decided to check out the gym that occupied half of our oversized garage.


    Back in ye olden days, the garage had been built as a combination stable and carriage house for the mansion. It was supposed to be big. But we only had three cars, so there was plenty of room left over. Someone¡ªprobably Darius¡ªhad turned it into a gym. We had weights, machines, a small fighting ring, and a line of punching bags.


    Conrad worked out there most mornings. The first time I went in, I told him that I was only there for the treadmill¡ªand I was! But, I mean¡­punching bags! Who could resist the temptation to wallop one of those bad boys?


    A few days later, when I arrived early enough I was sure I¡¯d be alone, I picked out the biggest, heaviest looking punching bag in the whole line.


    I nearly broke my wrist.


    And, it turned out, I wasn¡¯t alone. Conrad had snuck in just in time to see me embarrass myself and¡ªaccording to him¡ªour entire pack. That¡¯s when he told me he was going to teach me how to fight.


    A two-hundred-and-seventy-pound wolfman versus a ninety-eight-pound revived cancer victim. What could go wrong?


    Darius glanced at the packages. ¡°Both are for Iset, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    I sighed.


    The vampire eyed me. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you haven¡¯t tried to use your lack of workout clothes as an excuse to get out of your lessons.¡±


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    ¡°I did try. Conrad said that if I was ever in a real fight, I¡¯d be in my jeans anyway.¡±


    ¡°He has a point, you know.¡±


    ¡°He also says that my only hope of winning is if I¡¯m armed with a forty-five-caliber pistol.¡±


    ¡°Two points. If you ever want training¡ª¡±


    ¡°No thanks!¡±


    I didn¡¯t mind guns in theory. What bothered me was how heavy they were, and the almighty loud BANG! ¡­and, if I¡¯m being honest, the idea that I would have the power to kill someone.


    I shivered.


    When I looked up, Darius was watching me. His eyes were knowing and sympathetic.


    I gave his arm a shove. ¡°Go on, you blood-sucker. Give Iset her packages. I¡¯m sure she¡¯d like to say hello.¡±


    ¡°Are you offering to take Olivia her letters?¡±


    That hadn¡¯t been my intention¡ªOlivia and I were barely civil to each other¡ªbut if Darius had only a few minutes of consciousness left, I¡¯d rather he spend that time in the library with Iset.


    I had a soft spot for my favorite undead pair.


    ¡°Oh, fine,¡± I said. ¡°Hand them over.¡±


    He passed me the top three letters, then started digging through the rest.


    ¡°Why is she getting so much mail?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s cultural,¡± Darius said. ¡°There are still some letters witches prefer to send through the mail. Birthday greetings are one of them.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s her birthday?¡±


    ¡°It will be soon.¡±


    He handed me a heavy envelope of cream-colored parchment sealed with wax. The stamp in the wax looked like some kind of leafy branch.


    ¡°Fancy,¡± I observed.


    Darius glanced at the letter in my hands. ¡°Ah. Yes. Be careful with that one. It¡¯s important.¡±


    I flipped it over to look at the return address. The script was so ornate, I couldn¡¯t read it. ¡°Who¡¯s it from?¡±


    ¡°Her coven.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°As it¡¯s Olivia¡¯s private mail, I¡¯ll let you ask her that.¡± He passed me some more letters. ¡°That¡¯s all of them.¡±


    I started toward the front stairs but turned back when Darius called my name.


    ¡°About that fancy letter,¡± he said.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°When Olivia tells you to throw it away, remember it can¡¯t be recycled because of the wax.¡±


    With that, he set off toward the library.


    I went upstairs. Olivia wasn¡¯t in her room, so I went over to Iset¡¯s private study. In the nearly four months I¡¯d lived at the Noctis mansion, the only person I¡¯d ever seen using that room was Olivia. I suspected that the only reason it was called ¡°Iset¡¯s private study¡± was because, if you were on the second floor, you had to walk through Iset¡¯s room to get to it.


    I knocked on the study door. Barging in on that particular witch, mid-spell, could be bad for your health.


    Olivia¡¯s voice came from behind the door. ¡°Yes?¡±


    I peeked inside. When she saw it was me, she frowned slightly, like someone gazing at a smelly fish.


    ¡°Did you want something?¡± she asked.


    It was a sign of how much our relationship had improved that she hadn¡¯t said, ¡°What do you want?¡±


    Ever since I¡¯d arrived at the mansion, fresh from my casket, Olivia seemed to have it out for me. She was varying levels of caustic to almost everyone, but I must have occupied a special, venom-filled space in her shriveled heart. Iset had said that she was jealous of my ¡°talents¡±¡ªmeaning, my abilities as a seer (whatever those were worth)¡ªbut it was probable that Olivia also found my personality irritating.


    I decided to make the best of it by enjoying her irritation.


    I bounced into the room. ¡°Mail time!¡±


    She put down her pen and shut her notebook. ¡°You don¡¯t have to shout, Emerra. I¡¯m right here.¡±


    I held out everything but the big, heavy, mysterious, wax-sealed envelope. ¡°I hear it¡¯s your birthday soon.¡±


    Olivia took the letters. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to be seventeen?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s usually the number that follows sixteen.¡±


    She pulled over a nearby trash can and started going through the letters. One glance at the return address was enough to consign most of them to the garbage, unopened. The indifference in how she tossed away all those hand-addressed envelopes bothered me. I wasn¡¯t sure what emotion I was feeling¡ªall I knew was that it felt like someone was rubbing fine-grit sandpaper over my soul.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t those from your friends?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Not most of them.¡± She dropped another letter.


    I dragged my eyes away from the garbage can. They were her letters, it was her business.


    ¡°When¡¯s the big day?¡± I asked.


    ¡°If you¡¯re trying to ask what day is my birthday, it¡¯s tomorrow.¡±


    A grin broke over my face. ¡°You were born on Valentine¡¯s Day?¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m sure you think that¡¯s cute.¡±


    ¡°Wrong. I think it¡¯s adorable.¡±


    She scoffed. ¡°Maybe if you like pink.¡±


    Olivia did not like pink. Her entire wardrobe was black.


    ¡°All those candy hearts must be why you¡¯re so sweet,¡± I said.


    When she stopped to glare at me, she noticed the parchment envelope still in my hands. She nodded to it. ¡°Is that from the coven?¡±


    ¡°What? This shabby thing?¡± I waved it around. ¡°As a matter of fact, it is.¡±


    She turned back to the desk with the only two letters that had survived the culling. ¡°Throw it away.¡±


    She reached for her silver dagger and slit open the first letter.


    I gazed at the poor envelope still in my hands. It looked so neglected.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you want to know what¡¯s in it?¡± I asked.


    The witch didn¡¯t even stop reading to answer. ¡°I already know what¡¯s in it.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s got a wax seal!¡±


    ¡°Yes. Self-important people often use those.¡±


    The nerve of that girl! How many times in my life would I get a big, heavy letter, all fancied up with a wax seal like some fairy-tale invitation to a ball?


    Zero. That¡¯s how many.


    ¡°If Prince Charming gets away,¡± I said, ¡°you¡¯ll have nobody to blame but yourself.¡±


    That made her look up. ¡°What are you dribbling on about?¡±


    ¡°Look, can I open it?¡±


    She rolled her eyes, passed me the dagger, and went back to reading her letter.


    I felt a small thrill as I slit open the envelope. The letter inside was equally fancy and made out of the same heavy cream-colored paper. After setting my brain to decipher-cursive mode, I read over the first few lines.


    ¡°It is an invitation,¡± I said.


    ¡°Let me guess,¡± Olivia said, ¡°I¡¯m formally invited to present myself, with my master, before the mistress of the coven to demonstrate my progress in the arts.¡±


    Dang. She¡¯d almost gotten it word for word.


    ¡°Are you sure this isn¡¯t important, Olivia?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not required, so it¡¯s not important.¡± She added with a faint sneer, ¡°It¡¯s nothing but a chance to show off.¡±


    ¡°How is it¡­not required?¡±


    ¡°Not required. If I don¡¯t show up, they can¡¯t kick me out of the coven. The only report I have to give is the one at the end of my apprenticeship. Then I¡¯m done.¡±


    I was looking right at her when she said that. Her face went stony at the word ¡°done.¡±


    I was still watching her when all the color drained from her cheeks. She pushed back the chair and rose to her feet. Her eyes were locked on the letter in her hand.


    ¡°Olivia?¡± I said.


    She folded the paper and turned to the spiral staircase in the corner of the room. It led down to the library. ¡°I have to make a call.¡±


    She was halfway to the stairs by the time I said, ¡°What do you want me to do with the invitation?¡±


    ¡°Throw it away!¡± she yelled without looking back.


    I gave the invitation one last sad glance before letting it slide from my hand to join the other letters that Olivia had deemed ¡°not important.¡±

 Chapter 2 - Cake Debate

    Early the next morning, I was out in the gym, losing to a set of boxing strike pads. Conrad wasn¡¯t hitting me with them. He was holding them up so I could hit them. And I was still losing.


    More accurately, he was holding them down, somewhere around the bottom of his ribcage. It was one of the adjustments he had to make living his life as a freaking giant.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Conrad said, ¡°focus.¡±


    ¡°I am focused,¡± I grumbled.


    Without any hair to catch the sweat, it poured down my face and neck, soaking the collar of my shirt. I really needed those workout clothes to show up soon.


    The wolfman bopped the side of my head with one of the pads. It was as fast as a snake strike, and even though he was being gentle, it felt like I¡¯d been blindsided by a cranky mattress.


    ¡°Hey!¡± I yelled.


    ¡°And don¡¯t lie to me,¡± Conrad said. ¡°Your hits are weak¡ª¡±


    ¡°My hits are always weak.¡±


    ¡°Weaker than normal. Your strikes are off-center, and you¡¯re moving slow. It¡¯s like you¡¯ve lost all your improvements from the last month.¡±


    A disbelieving smile crept onto my face. ¡°I¡¯ve been improving?¡±


    He bopped me again. ¡°You had been. What¡¯s on your mind?¡±


    I lowered my arms with a groan, put my hands on my thighs, and panted.


    The wolfman lowered the pads and waited. Conrad Bauer wasn¡¯t shy around me anymore, but he was still quiet. That quietness was something I treasured. It made such a nice contrast to the random clamor of my own head.


    ¡°Conrad,¡± I said, ¡°do¡­do you ever get any letters? Like, personal letters?¡±


    ¡°Who gets letters these days?¡±


    ¡°Olivia does.¡± I pushed myself up and put my hands on my hips. ¡°You¡¯re from Alaska, right?¡±


    Conrad nodded.


    ¡°Is there anyone back there¡ªin Alaska, I mean¡ªanyone that¡­um¡­¡±


    Geez. It wasn¡¯t a hard concept! Why was I struggling to find the words?


    I tried again: ¡°Is there anyone that¡­thinks about you?¡±


    My stomach squeezed into a cold knot as the silence stretched on. I¡¯d broken one of the sacred unwritten rules that hedged up our friendship: don¡¯t ask about the past. I didn¡¯t know if Conrad would mind me prying, but I didn¡¯t want him to ask me questions, so I was careful to stay a million miles away from the whole subject.


    Avoidance. Maybe not the healthiest tactic, but definitely effective. Until now.


    One of his shoulders lifted in a shrug. ¡°I guess there¡¯s Basil. We¡¯re pretty close. We don¡¯t talk often, but he¡¯ll call me every few months.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s Basil?¡± I asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s my littermate. My brother.¡±


    My voice rose with excitement. ¡°You have a twin?¡±


    Conrad used the edge of a pad to scratch his ear, flattening it. When he moved the pad, his triangle ear sprung back up. ¡°Kind of. We were the only two in the litter, but that¡¯s not a term lycanthropes normally use.¡±


    The idea that there was not one but two fluffy, friendly wolfmen delighted me. I knew that there was an entire species called lycanthropes, so there could¡¯ve been thousands of them, but that fact never fully registered with me since Conrad was the only one I knew.


    ¡°Does he look like you?¡± I asked.


    Conrad let out one of his quiet, peculiar laughs¡ªa mix between a huff of air and the chuff noise you might hear a dog make. ¡°Not even close.¡±


    My excitement ebbed when I remembered why I was asking. ¡°And does it matter to you that he thinks about you?¡±


    It was a while before Conrad answered.


    ¡°I never thought about it.¡±


    The edges of my mouth ticked down by a micron.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Conrad asked.


    I shook my head, then said while gazing at a random spot on the wall, ¡°I always thought it would matter. I thought it would make a difference.¡± I groaned and turned away. ¡°You know what? No more boxing today. I''m done.¡±


    ¡°Already?¡±


    I walked over to the bench against the wall. ¡°If you¡¯re trying to kill me, there has to be a faster way.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but it¡¯s not as fun.¡±


    I turned, dropped myself on the bench, and stuck my tongue out at him.


    I was so beat, my head pounded in time with my heart. My thoughts came in muted and abrupt bursts. I needed to get my gloves off. Then I could rest. Water would be good. But gloves off first.


    The bag gloves were thin, meant far more to protect the skin of my knuckles than the bags or Conrad (my gloves could have been made out of iron and I still probably couldn¡¯t hurt the wolfman). To get them off, I had to undo the straps, unwrap them, and extract each individual finger from the cut-off finger hole. That¡¯s not the easiest process to do when you¡¯re so tired you don¡¯t want to lift your arms.


    Conrad took off the strike pads and put them back on the shelf where they belonged. He came and sat beside me while I struggled to get off the second glove.


    ¡°Today¡¯s Olivia¡¯s birthday,¡± I said.


    Conrad didn¡¯t answer. He was inspecting the pads that made up the palms and undersides of his fingers.


    ¡°Did you know that?¡± I asked.


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    ¡°Nope.¡±


    Despite the lackluster response, I went on. ¡°Do you think Igor knows?¡±


    ¡°I doubt it.¡±


    ¡°I think I might ask him to make a cake.¡±


    Conrad looked up from his hands. ¡°Why?¡±


    There was a lot of suspicion in his voice¡ªunwarranted suspicion, I might add. It wasn¡¯t like I was going to poison it.


    ¡°Lots of people have birthday cakes.¡±


    The statement came out more defensive than I intended.


    ¡°But why would you bring it up?¡± Conrad asked. ¡°It¡¯s not like Olivia¡¯s ever gone out of her way to be nice to you.¡±


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t go out of her way to be nice to anyone. And it¡¯s cake. Can we all agree that cake, in general, is a good thing?¡±


    ¡°Mera, you¡¯re not trying to make her like you, are you?¡±


    The needle on my annoyance-meter jumped into the red zone.


    ¡°No! That¡¯s not¡ªthat¡¯s not why I¡¯m doing this.¡± I fidgeted with the cut-off fingers of my gloves. ¡°If she doesn¡¯t like me, she doesn¡¯t like me. I¡¯m not going to try to make people like me if they don¡¯t.¡±


    That was a valuable principle that two of my therapists had worked hard to drill into my brain. They called it a ¡°necessary perspective.¡± The idea was supposed to be a companion to self-respect, but every time I said it, it felt more delicate than proud, and serious in a sad, gentle way.


    ¡°Then why do you smell nervous?¡± Conrad asked.


    The surprise from his comment froze me for a second. I thawed with a laugh.


    ¡°I¡¯m nervous?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m asking you.¡±


    I leaned against his burly arm. ¡°Maybe your nose is broken.¡±


    ¡°I doubt it.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, trying to do something nice for people who don¡¯t like you always feels kind of dangerous.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re still going to do it?¡±


    ¡°Everyone should have cake on their birthday.¡± I looked up at him. ¡°Do you think she¡¯ll be mad?¡±


    ¡°If she is, we can cry the whole time we¡¯re eating her slice.¡±


    As I laughed, I caught sight of the pads of Conrad¡¯s hands.


    I leaned over and grabbed one of his wrists. ¡°What happened to your paws?¡±


    ¡°First of all, they¡¯re hands.¡±


    He would keep insisting that, but I think that anything surrounded by fur and made of a bunch of thick pads that squish really good when you push on them is worthy of being called a paw. I don¡¯t care what they¡¯re shaped like.


    He wasn¡¯t offended enough to stop me from pulling his enormous paw close to inspect it.


    ¡°They¡¯re chapped!¡± I said.


    I pushed his claws up to get a better look at the tips of his finger pads. The cracks there were almost as bad as the cracks on his palm. I ran my finger over the stiff ridge of the deepest split and let out a noise of sympathy.


    ¡°What the hell noise was that?¡± he asked with a laugh. ¡°You sound like a puppy.¡±


    ¡°Conrad, this looks really painful!¡±


    I pulled my leg up onto the bench, turned toward him, and picked up his other hand. It was another horror story.


    ¡°It¡¯s winter,¡± he said. ¡°They get like this sometimes.¡±


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you taking care of them?¡± said me, everybody¡¯s mother.


    ¡°It¡¯s more of an annoyance than anything.¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s bothering you, you should use some balm or ointment or something.¡±


    ¡°You mean for dog paws?¡±


    ¡°Look at this!¡± I pointed to a web of fissures. ¡°If I brought you into a vet like this, they¡¯d tell me I wasn¡¯t taking care of you!¡±


    ¡°Mera, go back to your puppy noises.¡±


    ¡°Lotion isn¡¯t going to cut it, wolf-boy. Those paw ointments might help. Are you really going to tell me that it doesn¡¯t hurt?¡±


    Conrad lowered his muzzle so he could bump his forehead on mine. ¡°Not enough to worry about. And nowhere near enough to put up with you threatening to take me to a vet.¡±


    He pulled back and puffed a breath of air right up my nose, letting out a chuckle when I made a face and shook my head.


    ¡°Come on, zombie-girl.¡± He dropped his hand on top of my head and pressed down hard enough to make me bow. ¡°We¡¯d better get inside so you can talk to Igor.¡±


    He stood up. I rushed to put the gloves away and join him.


    ¡°But I wasn¡¯t done harassing you!¡± I said.


    Conrad opened the door. A whip of cold air flew by us. ¡°Emerra, I pulled you out of your casket, and I can put you back.¡±


    As we stepped outside, I grumbled (while trying not to smile), ¡°Jacky pulled me out of my casket. You just dug it up.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I did the hard part. And this is the thanks I get.¡±


    I allowed myself a smile and looked around at the scenery. The first light of the sunrise was glaring off the snow, making everything shine and sparkle. The nearly black tree trunks stood out against the background of icy light.


    ¡°Thank you for digging me up, Conrad,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s a nice day. And I probably would''ve been really bored down there.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±


    ¡°How do you think Igor will react if I ask him to make a cake?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Igor, Mera.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I let out a quiet sigh. ¡°It¡¯s Igor.¡±


    Igor stared at me with the larger of his two mismatched eyes. ¡°You want me to make a cake?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°For Olivia?¡±


    I nodded again.


    The smaller of his two eyes narrowed until all I could see was the hint of a slit. ¡°Why?¡±


    I repeated, ¡°Because it¡¯s her birthday.¡±


    ¡°But why are you the one asking? It¡¯s not like you¡¯re friends.¡±


    I threw up my hands. ¡°You caught me! My nefarious plot is to poison the thing. Death by birthday¡ªwhat a way to go.¡±


    Igor shook his head and said in the most imperious drawl I¡¯d ever heard, ¡°I can¡¯t allow that kind of thing.¡±


    That surprised me. Igor always talked as if the world would be a better place if at least half of the human race would up and die. Preferably the half that lived closest to him.


    He sniffed. ¡°No one¡¯s allowed to change my recipes.¡±


    I laid my crossed arms on the island counter and gazed at Igor with perfect adoration. ¡°Have I told you lately how much I love you?¡±


    I¡¯ll be the first to admit, my relationship to Igor, especially when compared to my relationship with Olivia, didn¡¯t make a lot of sense. Both of them seemed to live in a permanent bad mood, and neither of them could ever be accused of friendliness, but Igor¡¯s grumpiness was more generalized and blunt, as opposed to acidic, and he was always willing to joke with me. He never laughed, mind you, but he never sneered at me either, and sometimes he¡¯d say the most outrageous things, and I¡¯d wonder, just for a second, if he was joking too.


    ¡°Yesterday,¡± he reminded me, ¡°when I handed you dessert.¡±


    And he did cook for me every day. Being a master chef inspires a lot of affection.


    ¡°As long as you¡¯re getting your due,¡± I said. ¡°Now, if I promise not to poison the cake, will you make one?¡±


    ¡°Cakes are a bother.¡±


    ¡°You made one for my birthday.¡±


    ¡°And it was a bother.¡±


    ¡°It was the most delicious bother I¡¯ve ever eaten. When you bother, Igor, we get perfect bother. And the frosting?¡± I gave him two thumbs up. ¡°Fantastic.¡±


    ¡°I see the schmoozer is at it again.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a schmoozer?¡±


    ¡°Someone who flatters to gain favors.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not flattery if it¡¯s true!¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh. Schmooze harder. Maybe that¡¯ll work. Anyway, I don¡¯t see why I should bother on Olivia¡¯s account.¡±


    ¡°She didn¡¯t schmooze enough?¡±


    ¡°The little ingrate is more interested in giving grief than any thanks.¡± He stopped peeling the carrot long enough to point at me with the peeler. ¡°And she won¡¯t thank you either.¡±


    My irritation, already in the red zone, jumped to critical levels.


    ¡°You think I¡¯m stupid, don¡¯t you?¡± I said.


    Igor stopped what he was doing, put down the carrot and peeler, and looked at me with both eyes. It was the first time I¡¯d ever seen him give his full attention to anything other than cooking, but I was too angry to appreciate it.


    I continued, ¡°I¡¯m not doing this because I¡¯m all flowers and singing in the woods and I think that all she needs is some kindness, then she¡¯ll see what a nice person I am, and we¡¯ll become best friends. That¡¯s not how the world works, Igor. I know that. And if someone did change their mind that fast, I wouldn¡¯t trust them. People don¡¯t always get along. She thinks I¡¯m annoying, and I think she¡¯s mean, but that doesn¡¯t matter because it¡¯s her birthday, and everyone deserves to have cake on their birthday.¡±


    Igor crossed his arms. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because people matter. Even if I don¡¯t like her, Olivia still matters. Is that a good enough reason?¡±


    Igor stared at me for a second, then shrugged. The hunch on his back shifted with his shoulders. He picked up his peeler and the carrot.


    I sat there and stewed in the ugly silence I¡¯d created with my outburst and wished I could take it all back.


    I opened my mouth to apologize, but Igor spoke first.


    ¡°Do you know what kind of cake the little ingrate likes?¡±


    A weight lifted from my heart. ¡°No.¡±


    His larger eye turned to me while the smaller one watched the peeler. ¡°You¡¯d better go ask her.¡±


    I smiled and stood up from my stool as I pointed at him. ¡°You, sir, are a scholar and a gentleman.¡±


    He let out an offended scoff.


    I skipped toward the door. ¡°And I promise I will personally make you a cake on your birthday!¡±


    As I crossed into the hall, I thought I heard him grumble, ¡°That would be impressive.¡±


    Ha! I¡¯d show him. I¡¯d go to YouTube for a couple dozen videos on how to make homemade cake and some frosting¡­


    Crap! I forgot to ask when his birthday was. But I could do that later. First I needed to find Olivia.

 Chapter 3 - Obstacles

    ¡°Jacky says he¡¯s still alive.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Iset said.


    Olivia paced across the open space in front of Iset¡¯s desk in the library. Her movements were restless and stiff. Iset silently marveled as she watched the redheaded witch. She¡¯d worked closely with the girl for a whole year and had never seen her anywhere near this agitated.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Olivia said. ¡°Good. But if he¡¯s alive, where is he?¡±


    Iset leaned back in her chair so she could watch the witch without having to turn her head. ¡°Is there anyone you can ask for help?¡±


    ¡°Autumn is already doing everything she can.¡± Olivia¡¯s mouth pulled down in a tight frown. ¡°No one else seems to care.¡±


    Iset put her elbows on the arms of her chair and laid her hands together. She didn¡¯t intertwine her fingers. No matter how carefully her hands were bandaged, that was always a clumsy motion. ¡°Olivia, you¡¯re clearly upset¡ª¡±


    ¡°What a surprise!¡±


    Iset ignored the snippy return. ¡°Are you thinking of going back?¡±


    There was a slight hitch in Olivia¡¯s step, but she kept walking.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about it,¡± she admitted.


    ¡°But you don¡¯t want to,¡± Iset observed.


    ¡°Of course I don¡¯t want to! But¡­¡±


    Olivia stopped at the far end of her path. She looked along the line of bookshelves toward the east windows. The thin white inner curtain prevented her from seeing outside, but Iset was pretty sure the witch wasn¡¯t seeing anything in front of her anyway. The scene was nothing but something to rest her eyes on.


    She said, ¡°He¡¯s my friend, Iset.¡±


    That quiet announcement played on Iset¡¯s emotions like a finger run around the rim of a wineglass.


    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you go?¡± the mummy asked.


    Olivia turned to face her. ¡°If I¡¯m wrong¡ªif we¡¯re wrong¡ªand it turns out to be nothing, we¡¯ll never hear the end of it. Even you said it might be nothing.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re worried.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯m worried!¡±


    ¡°Olivia, those feelings aren¡¯t going to go away until you know what¡¯s going on.¡±


    Olivia let out a moan, walked back to the desk where Iset was sitting, and dropped herself into the nearby armchair.


    ¡°I¡¯ll probably find Kirby, sitting in his shop, smiling like nothing happened,¡± Olivia said. ¡°And do you know what he¡¯ll do when he figures out I was worried about him? He¡¯ll laugh.¡±


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    ¡°Is that all?¡±


    ¡°No. He¡¯ll tease me too.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s what it means to ¡®never hear the end of it,¡¯ I think it might be worth the risk.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not the one I¡¯m worried about.¡± Olivia put the edge of her thumbnail between her teeth.


    ¡°Does anyone else have to know why you¡¯re there?¡±


    The witch¡¯s voice was brittle with sarcasm. ¡°If I suddenly show up, I think one or two people might have a few questions.¡±


    ¡°Why? Aren¡¯t you expected to be there?¡±


    Olivia¡¯s body stiffened. Then her eyes widened. She pulled her thumb away from her mouth and started bouncing her index finger off the arm of the chair instead.


    ¡°Jacky¡¯s busy,¡± Olivia said.


    Iset knew that quick, sharp tone. That was how Olivia spoke when she was going over a problem, noting all the tasks in front of her, spying out any possible complications. She wasn¡¯t pointing out why the idea wouldn¡¯t work; she was identifying the minor obstacles that would have to be dealt with.


    ¡°Big Jacky knows that being your master is a part of his duties,¡± Iset said, ¡°and if there¡¯s anything that Jacky respects, it¡¯s his duty.¡±


    ¡°The interview is only a few minutes long. There¡¯s no reason I¡¯d have to stay for more than an hour or two.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s something to start with. Once you¡¯re there, you can decide if it¡¯s worth staying a few extra days.¡±


    ¡°Iset, what if I miss something?¡±


    The mummy paused. That wasn¡¯t a minor obstacle.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you take Emerra?¡±


    Olivia rolled her eyes. ¡°Ugh.¡±


    Iset rubbed her forehead. That wasn¡¯t a minor obstacle either, but she¡¯d brought the matter up, she might as well see it through.


    ¡°¡¯Ugh¡¯ is not an answer, Olivia,¡± she said.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t her problem.¡±


    ¡°No, but if you¡¯re worried about what you might miss¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d have Autumn there. And Jacky.¡±


    Olivia couldn¡¯t see Iset¡¯s eyes behind all the bandages, but sometimes, during a long silence, she sometimes thought she could feel them resting on her.


    ¡°He¡¯s your friend,¡± Iset said.


    Olivia looked away. ¡°Emerra has no reason to help me.¡±


    ¡°You mean you¡¯ve given her no reason to help you, and that¡¯s true, but perhaps you¡¯ve been too¡­occupied¡­to notice¡ªEmerra helps people. That¡¯s what she does. And if you ask, she¡¯d probably be willing to help you.¡±


    Iset wondered if Olivia realized how far she¡¯d slumped into the chair. It made her difficult to see from the door, which is probably why Emerra didn¡¯t notice her when she first came in.


    ¡°Good morning, Iset!¡± Emerra called with her usual smile.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± Iset said.


    ¡°Have you seen Olivia anywhere around?¡±


    Iset nodded to the chair in front of Emerra.


    ¡°Oh.¡± Emerra leaned over the high back and said in a suspiciously bright voice, ¡°Happy Valentine¡¯s Day, Olivia!¡±


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Olivia grumbled.


    ¡°I need to know your favorite cake.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Again with the why! Do I look unusually evil today? Come on. Favorite cake.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡±


    ¡°I do. I¡¯m a girl on a mission, and I will not leave until you give me the information I¡¯m after!¡±


    Olivia glowered.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make me get the thumbscrews,¡± Emerra said.


    ¡°Red velvet.¡±


    Emerra¡¯s forehead crinkled. ¡°Is that a cake?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s a cake!¡± It was clear Olivia found the girl¡¯s ignorance personally insulting.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Emerra,¡± Iset assured her, ¡°I¡¯ve never had it either.¡±


    Emerra smiled at the mummy while Olivia shot her a look.


    ¡°I¡¯m off then,¡± Emerra announced. ¡°I have to go see if Igor knows what red velvet cake is.¡±


    ¡°You think he doesn¡¯t?¡± Olivia asked.


    Emerra twirled in a circle to answer while still moving toward the arched entry. ¡°If I was a betting girl, I¡¯d say yes. Anyone who can make a quiche without a recipe probably knows everything there is to know about cooking!¡±


    As always, when Emerra was gone, the world seemed slightly quieter than before she¡¯d come.


    Olivia hadn¡¯t moved. She¡¯d slumped into the silence the way she¡¯d slumped into the chair. There was a scowl on her face, but Iset couldn¡¯t tell if it was an annoyed scowl or a thoughtful one.


    ¡°Today¡¯s your birthday, isn¡¯t it?¡± Iset said.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Does Emerra know that?¡±


    There was a pause.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Oh, what?¡± Olivia snapped.


    ¡°Nothing. Just ¡®oh.¡¯¡±


    Iset turned and opened her laptop. It looked like the witch needed some time to think and plenty of silence to think in.

 Chapter 4 - Always A Bother

    Red velvet cake is delicious.


    I mean, it¡¯s cake, so, obviously.


    And Igor cooked it, so, double obviously.


    With that many obviouslys tacked on, everyone was forced to acknowledge the chef¡¯s wizardry. Since Darius was still asleep, that meant that it was mostly me and Conrad¡ª


    Okay, me. It was mostly me. Because I¡¯m loud like that when you put sugar in front of me.


    But Conrad mentioned how beautiful it smelled, and when Igor passed Olivia the first slice, she offered him a quiet thank you.


    Igor and I stared at each other. The witch¡¯s cheeks turned pink under her smattering of freckles.


    I didn¡¯t know what to say, but Igor had long ago discovered that a good, grumpy harrumph fit in almost any situation. And if it didn¡¯t naturally fit, he would make it fit.


    After his loud harumph, He nodded toward me. ¡°If there¡¯s any thanks owed, you can send it over to Miss Cole there.¡±


    Treason! It¡¯s one thing for Olivia to have every reason to guess it was me that asked for the cake, but it¡¯s another thing entirely for him to confirm it.


    Before I could voice my indignation, Igor went on.


    ¡°She¡¯s the one that drove into town to fetch the cream cheese.¡±


    ¡°You told me it was indispensable,¡± I cried, ¡°and Mrs. Park had already left for the mansion!¡±


    You¡¯d think we were two toddlers, trying to foist the blame on each other.


    Olivia decided to settle the matter.


    ¡°Thank you again, Igor.¡± She picked up her fork and poked at the cake. ¡°God knows, Emerra needs as much practice driving as she can get.¡±


    I smiled. That was the witch I knew.


    Igor usually ate alone in the kitchen, but that night he stayed with us to enjoy the cake, just like he had on my birthday. Olivia was silent throughout Igor¡¯s impromptu lecture on the history of cakes, but Conrad and I enjoyed it. There was nothing that man didn¡¯t know about food.


    We had finished our dessert, but Igor was still answering Conrad¡¯s question about the difference between angel food cake and sponge cake, so I stood up and started gathering the plates.


    Igor immediately cut himself off, mid-sentence. ¡°I clear up.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ve got this.¡± I picked up Olivia¡¯s plate and dessert fork. ¡°Weren¡¯t you saying something about eggs?¡±


    ¡°Do you have any idea how much that china is worth?¡±


    As I walked into the butler¡¯s pantry, I called over my shoulder, ¡°What was that, Igor? I can¡¯t hear you over the sound of all the dishes I¡¯m breaking!¡±


    Kappa, my beloved two-foot-four bog-monster, was in the kitchen, on the counter, eating his nightly bowl of slop. He looked up as I came in.


    ¡°Mera!¡± he said, spitting a few flecks of food toward me.


    ¡°Go on, Kappa. Finish your food before it gets dry.¡±


    He needed no other encouragement to dive back in.


    I didn¡¯t know how much china was worth, but no one makes a comment like that unless the value hovers somewhere between ¡°expensive¡± and ¡°ridiculous.¡± It was with great care that I rinsed and stacked the dishes I had brought in.


    I heard someone come into the kitchen through the butler¡¯s pantry and assumed that it was Igor.


    ¡°Even if it did have food coloring,¡± I said, ¡°the cake tasted marvelous.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you could make it without the coloring,¡± Olivia said.


    I turned. She was leaning on the kitchen island. After a second, she pulled out one of the tall stools and sat down.


    She said, ¡°If you¡¯d asked me the difference between Dutch and non-Dutch cocoa, I would¡¯ve said it was where it came from.¡±


    Feeling slightly awkward under her gaze, I turned back to my task. ¡°Well, happy birthday, Olivia. I¡¯m a little rusty at it, but if you want me to sing¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not necessary!¡±


    Since my back was to her, she couldn¡¯t see my grin. ¡°Just offering.¡±


    When I put the last plate on top of the others, Kappa nudged his dish toward me.


    ¡°All done?¡± I asked.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    He belched. I took that as a yes and started rinsing the dish.


    As he reached for the stack of dessert plates, I called out a warning. He turned his attention to the silver. I figured he¡¯d have a harder time breaking that, so I didn¡¯t interfere.


    Olivia said, ¡°My friend is missing.¡±


    That was it. There was no notice of any kind¡ªnothing but a bomb of pure information. Without any warning to prepare me, it took a second for me to comprehend what she¡¯d said. Once it clicked, my brain went into a minor fervor, trying to figure out what it was supposed to do with that nuke. I was pretty sure that sympathy was called for. Surprise was already there and growing by the second. There was also a mean, bemused speck of my psyche that felt compelled to think, Olivia has friends?


    I knew that speck was being needlessly cruel, so I told it to go sit in a corner and think about what it had done.


    After turning off the water, I put Kappa¡¯s dish near the others and grabbed the hand towel hanging nearby to dry my hands. Then I turned and leaned back on the counter.


    ¡°What happened?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know.¡± Olivia studied the island¡¯s countertop. ¡°We don¡¯t even really know if he¡¯s missing.¡±


    He, I noticed.


    ¡°You sounded a lot more sure a second ago,¡± I said.


    Olivia¡¯s face jerked up. ¡°I am sure.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°How can you be sure and not know?¡±


    ¡°The problem is that he¡¯s a mature adult, and he wasn¡¯t in any trouble. He¡¯s just gone.¡±


    A ¡°mature adult.¡± Olivia was a serious girl. She wouldn¡¯t go slinging that term around for a twentysomething. Her missing friend was probably a generation or two older than her. And that meant the man was unlikely to be Olivia¡¯s crush.


    I put my unreasonable disappointment in the corner too.


    ¡°And you¡¯re sure¡ª¡± I started.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡±


    I noted the confidence in her voice, but I was more inclined to pay attention to the tiny web of wrinkles that appeared on her forehead when she furrowed her brow.


    ¡°You¡¯re worried,¡± I said.


    I should have tacked on a question mark. Maybe then she wouldn¡¯t have gotten so angry.


    ¡°You think you know how I feel?¡± she demanded.


    ¡°Um? Yes?¡± I said. ¡°I mean, your friend is missing and you don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on. Wouldn¡¯t¡­wouldn¡¯t it be normal to be worried?¡±


    Her flare of anger subsided.


    I felt someone pawing at my shirt sleeve. Without looking away from Olivia, I held my arms out for Kappa to climb into them. He perched himself on my hip and rubbed his face all over my shirt, streaking it with the specks of dinner that had been left around his mouth and the water-slash-sunscreen that oozes from his skin.


    That¡¯s me. A napkin for the world¡¯s slimiest toddler.


    ¡°What¡¯s witchy doing?¡± Kappa asked.


    When I looked into his massive black eyes, I saw myself reflected in them. ¡°Her name is Olivia. Oh-live-e-ah.¡±


    He continued to stare at me.


    I had a hunch that the reason Kappa was so fond of me was because he could reduce my name to two syllables that were easy to yell.


    I went on, ¡°And right now she¡¯s worrying.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not¡ª¡± Olivia covered her face with her hand. ¡°I¡¯m¡­I¡¯m trying to ask for a-a favor.¡±


    Wow. She stumbled over that sentence a bit. But that was to be expected. It was probably the first time she¡¯d ever said it.


    ¡°From me?¡± I said.


    ¡°No, Emerra, from Kappa. Because he¡¯d be so much help.¡±


    There are many things I don¡¯t respond well to, but that particular sarcastic tone has to be near the top of the list.


    ¡°Oh. Well.¡± I stepped over to the kitchen island and deposited the bog-creature right in front of her. ¡°I won¡¯t get in your way then.¡±


    Kappa eyed Olivia and muttered, ¡°Witchy, witchy, witch.¡±


    ¡°Take good care of her, Kappa!¡±


    I headed toward the door to the hall, but I only managed a step before Olivia grabbed my sleeve.


    ¡°Wait. I¡¯m sorry. Look¡ªthat was rude of me, and¡­I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    I glanced at her. There was no actual apology in her manner, but she¡¯d managed to choke out the words. In a weird way, that gave me a glimpse into how much this meant to her. Olivia asking for a favor was rare; Olivia trying to appease another person was unheard of.


    Kappa stood up on his hind legs and reached for Olivia¡¯s long red hair.


    I didn¡¯t feel obliged to point this out to her, but I did turn to face her.


    When she saw that I was willing to listen, she launched into an explanation.


    ¡°Tomorrow I¡¯m driving down to give that stupid report to my coven. That¡¯ll give me a chance to look around and try to figure out what happened. Big Jacky¡¯s coming with me, but¡­¡±


    Her voice trailed off.


    But we both knew that Big Jacky wasn¡¯t always a help. He was the embodiment of death, so he tended to miss out on some of the subtleties of life. Empathy was not his strong point, and the motivations of others had to be painstakingly explained to him. Even then, you couldn¡¯t guarantee he¡¯d understand. Other people didn¡¯t always know how to take him.


    Kappa sniffed at Olivia¡¯s hair. She didn¡¯t notice.


    ¡°What about Darius?¡± I asked.


    He seemed like the natural choice. The vampire had been in law enforcement for a really, really long time. He¡¯d know what to do.


    ¡°He¡¯s busy with his own case,¡± Olivia said, ¡°and I don¡¯t want to bother him unless I have some kind of proof there¡¯s been a crime. Besides, even if I could get Darius to come, I¡¯d still be asking for your help.¡± Her jaw moved, but no words came out. She clenched her teeth for a moment, then managed to say, ¡°You have a gift, Emerra. Will you help me?¡±


    A few wily seconds slipped by before I answered.


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    Olivia let out her breath. Her shoulders sank and the lines of tension around her eyes disappeared. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Since I¡¯d agreed to help her, I decided to start making good on the promise.


    I motioned to the bog-monster oh-so-gently lifting a lock of her hair. ¡°Kappa¡¯s trying to eat your hair again.¡±


    ¡°Kappa!¡± Olivia stood up and stepped away from the kitchen island.


    The hair slid out of his webbed hand before Kappa could finish closing his fist around it. He grabbed the edge of the counter and leaned toward his disappearing prey.


    ¡°Ohhh,¡± he whined.


    I picked him up. ¡°Ten out of ten for effort, buddy, but it¡¯s not a good idea to bother a witch.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°She might turn you into a prince.¡±


    Kappa tilted his head to the side, his nose crinkled up, and one side of his mouth lifted. He let out a chirp-ish burrup noise that I am one-hundred percent certain is bog-monster for ¡°huh?¡± My love of that noise was at least ninety-percent of why I teased him.


    Olivia said, ¡°Can you be ready to leave early tomorrow? It¡¯s almost a five-hour drive and we need to be there by eleven.¡±


    ¡°Six in the morning?¡± I said. ¡°Yeah, I can manage that.¡±


    ¡°Pack for a few days. We probably won¡¯t stay, but¡ªjust in case.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll start packing once I put Kappa to bed,¡± I assured her.


    She nodded, then left the room via the door to the hall.


    Kappa looked up at me. ¡°Are you leaving?¡±


    ¡°Only for a few days.¡±


    ¡°But why are you leaving?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you know,¡± I murmured. ¡°People matter.¡±


    As the words tumbled out of my mouth, I caught sight of Igor leaning on the doorframe that led to the butler¡¯s pantry.


    When our eyes met¡ªor, rather, my eyes met his smaller right eye¡ªhe pushed away from the doorframe and finished coming into the room. He was carrying the last of the dishes.


    I stepped out of the way so he could reach the sink.


    ¡°I tried to warn you.¡± Igor shook his head as he passed me. ¡°It¡¯s always a bother.¡±

 Chapter 5 - Early Morning Goodbyes

    The next morning, a few minutes before six, Jacky and Olivia were outside, on the front drive, picking the route and double checking Noctis¡¯s car before we left. I decided to head into the kitchen to kidnap some coffee and say goodbye to Igor.


    The master chef was there¡ªas usual¡ªand already working in his slow, methodical way, grumbling under his breath the whole time. Kappa was squatting up against the oven, trying to stay warm.


    Iset had once tried to explain to me that Kappa was neither warm-blooded, nor cold-blooded, and that those weren¡¯t great terms anyway. My takeaway from the whole conversation was that Kappa needed a lot more sleep in the winter than he did in the summer, so I was surprised to see him out of his nest that early. I wasn¡¯t surprised to see he was struggling to keep his eyelids open.


    ¡°Mera!¡± Kappa cried.


    He oozed toward me while I laughed and made sympathetic noises. I knew exactly how he felt. Six in the morning was early, especially on a cold February morning. When the bog-monster finally reached me, I scooped him up and pulled him to my chest. I wasn¡¯t as warm as the oven, but my body heat had to be better than nothing.


    ¡°What are you doing up so early?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Goodbye,¡± Kappa said while trying to squirm as close as possible.


    ¡°He¡¯s been camped there for a half hour,¡± Igor said.


    ¡°Why¡¯s the oven on?¡± I asked. ¡°Are you cooking something?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s preheating. I¡¯m making scones.¡±


    ¡°But yesterday, you said¡ª¡±


    ¡°I decided to make scones.¡± Igor sniffed. ¡°On a morning like this we could all use something warm.¡±


    I smiled.


    Kappa insisted on staying with me when I went to say goodbye to Iset. After leaving the library, I was standing in front of the grand staircase, trying to decide whether to put Kappa back in his nest or in front of the oven, when Conrad came down the stairs.


    ¡°Ah,¡± he said as he stepped onto the ground floor, ¡°I wondered if Kappa¡¯d be able to wake up in time.¡±


    ¡°Conrad!¡± Kappa burbled.


    ¡°You knew he¡¯d be up?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yesterday he asked me when you were leaving. He wanted to say goodbye. I thought I¡¯d come down to make sure he had the chance.¡± The wolfman shrugged. ¡°I guess he beat me to it.¡±


    My heart gave a happy jump. I had not one but two sappy, weirdo friends who were willing to get up early to make sure I had a proper send-off. That was an embarrassment of riches. I needed to change the subject, or I might get all mushy and sentimental. Emotions before breakfast were never a good idea.


    ¡°He was waiting for me in the kitchen,¡± I said, ¡°and you, lucky duck¡ªlucky pup? Ha!¡ªyou, lucky pup, get scones for breakfast.¡±


    Conrad¡¯s brow creased, causing the fur over it to mush into a series of fine ripples. ¡°I thought¡ª¡±


    ¡°Igor didn¡¯t turn on the oven for Kappa,¡± I explained. ¡°He¡¯s preheating it for scones.¡±


    Conrad turned his head and let out a chuff. ¡°Ah.¡± He turned back to me. ¡°Take care of yourself, Mera, and at least try to stay out of trouble.¡±


    ¡°You make it sound like I¡¯m planning something.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you plan anything. If something happens to my bag¡ª¡±


    I rolled my eyes. ¡°Nothing¡¯s going to happen to your bag.¡±


    Any day now, I¡¯d be forced to buy my own luggage, but since Conrad wasn¡¯t coming along on this trip, I¡¯d been able to borrow his top-loading, military-style duffel bag. It was sitting by the door, next to Olivia¡¯s carry-on bag. The new one. The one the Albion Torr had purchased to replace the old carry-on bag that had burned to ashes while I was borrowing it to do a job for them.


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Conrad said. ¡°And if anything happens to my bag, I want one just like it.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡±


    The door behind me opened, letting in a blast of cold air. Kappa yelped and tried to burrow into my chest.


    Big Jacky came inside and picked up the duffel and the carry-on bag.


    ¡°Good morning, Kappa, Conrad,¡± he said.


    ¡°Good morning, Mr. Noctis,¡± Conrad said.


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    ¡°Emerra, we¡¯re ready to go, and Olivia is eager to get started.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be there in a second,¡± I said.


    He took the bags and closed the door behind him as he left.


    ¡°All right, Kappa,¡± I said, turning back, ¡°I have a very important job for you.¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± he cried.


    ¡°You have to take care of Conrad while I¡¯m gone. Look after him, okay?¡±


    ¡°Kay!¡±


    I held him out, and he crawled from my arms, up onto Conrad¡¯s arm. The wolfman bent his elbow so Kappa would have somewhere to perch.


    ¡°And don¡¯t let him watch any anime without me,¡± I added.


    ¡°This¡¯ll be the first time in months I can watch an American show that isn¡¯t a cartoon,¡± Conrad said. ¡°You think I¡¯m going to waste it?¡±


    I shifted my weight from foot to foot while fidgeting with my own fingers.


    ¡°Um¡­¡± I, the ever-articulate, said. ¡°Do¡­do you want a hug?¡±


    The edge of Conrad¡¯s black lips turned up. ¡°I¡¯d love a hug.¡±


    I¡¯m as bad as Igor, I thought as I wrapped my arms around Conrad. It can¡¯t be that I want a hug. No, I¡¯m doing this as a favor for Conrad.


    And, like Igor, I probably wasn¡¯t fooling anyone.


    I took a deep breath, inhaling the strange scent of Conrad¡¯s fur. Kappa reached down and rubbed my bald head the way he¡¯d seen Conrad do it. It was less pleasant since Kappa had clammy little webbed hands instead of massive padded palms with fur around the edges, but it was just as endearing.


    ¡°Bye, Mera!¡± Kappa said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you soon, buddy.¡± I looked up at Conrad. ¡°Later, wolf-boy.¡±


    ¡°Later, zombie-girl.¡±


    I picked up the two thermoses of coffee I¡¯d left on the hall table, grabbed my coat, and headed out to the car.


    Olivia was already in the back seat. Her seatbelt was on, and notebooks were sprawled across the rest of the bench. Her ears were covered by a huge set of headphones. When I knocked on her window, she didn¡¯t respond.


    Well, if she didn¡¯t want the front seat, I¡¯d be happy to take it.


    Once I was settled in, I turned around and shoved the second thermos of coffee between her and the notebook she was reading. She looked up and lifted the headphones from one ear.


    ¡°It¡¯s black, but it¡¯s hot,¡± I said. ¡°Would you like it?¡±


    She took it from me. A half-second later, she grumbled, ¡°Thanks.¡±


    I turned around. ¡°So how do you take your coffee?¡±


    No answer.


    I glanced over my shoulder. The headphones were back in place, and she was once again concentrating on her notebook.


    I wondered what my life would have been like if I¡¯d worked up to her level of focus.


    Meh. It¡¯s not like it would have been any longer.


    Jacky got in the driver¡¯s seat and started the car. I automatically reached out to adjust the heat settings so Olivia and I wouldn¡¯t freeze. Livable temperatures were not details that Jack Noctis ever thought about. He still had to be reminded that we weren¡¯t burning coal to heat the mansion.


    We pulled out of the long drive and headed toward the road that would eventually get us to the highway.


    ¡°Hey, Jacky?¡± I said.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°When you¡¯re alone in the car, do the windows ever fog up?¡±


    There was a long thoughtful pause.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said.


    ¡°You never noticed?¡±


    ¡°I rarely drive when I¡¯m alone. It¡¯s faster for me to travel¡±¡ªhe hesitated¡ª¡°in the other way.¡±


    ¡°What way is that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like walking, only¡­¡±


    ¡°Only what?¡±


    ¡°Only faster.¡±


    I took a sip of coffee to hide my smile. That was probably the best explanation I could expect from Big Jacky. The man was not a poet. Or a scientist. Or a man, really. He was a single-minded, skeletonized obsession that had adopted a few hobbies to fill up the endless time of his immortal life. He collected strategy games and stray supernaturals.


    ¡°I try to make my home comfortable for beings that might not otherwise have a place in this world,¡± he¡¯d told me.


    I knew that included me, and it made sense it would include Iset. I¡¯d asked her once how many mummies there were in the world. She¡¯d said, to the best of her knowledge, she was the only one left.


    I thought about the other residents of the mansion and wondered how many of them were strays.


    ¡°Jacky,¡± I said, ¡°how did you become Olivia¡¯s master?¡±


    ¡°She wrote me a letter, asking if I would take her on as an apprentice.¡±


    ¡°Did you know her?¡±


    ¡°Not at the time.¡± There was a soft noise. I never saw his chest move when he breathed, so it took me a moment to realize that Jack Noctis was sighing. ¡°There was a great deal I didn¡¯t know at the time.¡±


    There was a story there. The embodiment of death didn¡¯t sigh often. I had a five-hour drive ahead of me and no reason to avoid prying.


    ¡°The way you said that makes it sound like you regret taking her on,¡± I said.


    His skull briefly turned to me before he returned his attention to the road. ¡°I have no regrets. I¡¯ve benefited more from the role than I could have imagined possible. Perhaps that¡¯s the problem.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°When I received the letter, I asked Iset to tell me more about the master-apprentice relationship. She said that the apprentice agrees to help for free or for greatly reduced pay so that they have the opportunity to observe and learn from a master.¡±


    I ran that definition through my head. It tallied with what little I knew. ¡°Okay. And?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s possible to observe me, and I knew that by observing you could learn a great deal from other people. What I didn¡¯t understand was that for someone to be considered a ¡®master,¡¯ there was an implied mastery of some trade or skill.¡±


    ¡°You mean¡ª¡±


    ¡°When Olivia wrote to me, she knew that I held a special position in multiple Torrs. She assumed that I was a magician.¡±


    ¡°She came to you hoping that you could teach her magic?¡± I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.


    Jacky may have been a bunch of ill-disguised mysteries wrapped up in a nice suit, but he was not a magician.


    ¡°I gained the assistance of a talented and powerful witch. Olivia gained a master that could teach her nothing.¡±


    His voice sounded so solemn that all my humor bled away.


    He went on, ¡°I¡¯ve tried to do my duty by her¡ªwhat little I can do¡ªbut I¡¯m afraid she¡¯s gotten the uncooked side of the agreement.¡±


    That particular mis-idiom took me a moment to work out. ¡°You mean ¡®the raw end of the deal?¡¯¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that what I said?¡±


    ¡°But once she knew you weren¡¯t a magician, why didn¡¯t she go find another master?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I offered to help find her another place, but she refused. If you want to know her reasoning, you¡¯d have to ask her.¡±


    I looked over my shoulder. Olivia¡¯s thin fingers were resting on the notebook, as if she needed her eyes and her hands to absorb all that information. A lock of her red hair was pressed between her lips. Maybe Kappa had seen her chewing on her own hair and had wondered what it tasted like.


    I smiled at the thought.


    It would make sense for strawberry-blond hair to taste like strawberries. What would that shade of fiery copper red taste like? Smelted metal?


    I faced forward. ¡°Maybe later. She looks busy right now. What¡¯s she doing anyway?¡±


    ¡°Studying.¡±


    ¡°Is there going to be a test?¡±


    ¡°For her, there might be.¡±

 Chapter 6 - Craftborough

    The sign that welcomed us into Craftborough wasn¡¯t made out of metal. It was wood, and it looked as if it was hand-carved. That should have been my first clue that I was stepping out of anything resembling a normal town and into something¡­else. The unmarked and nearly empty streets had no stoplights and frighteningly few road signs. I was glad Jacky was driving instead of me.


    Olivia directed us through the center of town while she put away her notebooks and headphones. We turned off the main street and parked in one of the few marked stalls the town had. Olivia asked Big Jacky to open the trunk as she gathered up her bag and exited the vehicle.


    Jacky and I joined her at the back of the car as she was rooting through her luggage for something. While she did that, I gazed at the buildings around us.


    They were all done in what I thought of as ¡°colonial style.¡± There were small windows and lots of wood siding. A few of the grand houses were made of red or white brick. The buildings were all well maintained, but it was easy to imagine a man in tails and a tri-cornered hat popping out from behind one of the wooden doors. The trees towered over the streets with their thick gray trunks and empty branches. There were a few low fences. Some of them were made of wrought iron. Others were made of stacked stones that had been individually cut.


    ¡°Well, this is a historical place,¡± I muttered.


    Olivia snorted.


    ¡°Was that a snort of agreement or scorn?¡± I asked.


    ¡°¡®Historical¡¯ is such a succinct and oblivious word,¡± she said. ¡°It only communicates two things. One, that you were observant enough to notice the place is old, and two, that you haven¡¯t been subjected to it long enough to form an opinion.¡±


    I had to run her statement through my head twice to decide if she was insulting me. At the end of the review, I still couldn¡¯t tell.


    ¡°We need to hurry,¡± she added. ¡°We¡¯re late.¡±


    I pulled out my phone and glanced at the time. ¡°We¡¯re seven minutes early.¡±


    ¡°We have to walk from here, and it¡¯s a ten-minute walk. We¡¯re late.¡± She pulled out a thick wool cape and threw it over her shoulders. Then she reverently pulled out her witch¡¯s hat, put it on, and turned to me. ¡°How do I look?¡±


    She had on one of her typical dresses that fell to about mid-calf. Beneath it she wore a thick pair of tights, high-heeled boots, and a thin set of gloves. The only part of her outfit that wasn¡¯t black was the dark gray inner lining of her cape.


    No matter how off-handed she tried to sound, I could hear a tightness in her voice. She was nervous. I would have been happy to assure her, but I didn¡¯t know what she wanted me to say. I settled for the obvious answer.


    ¡°Like a witch.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± she said sarcastically, ¡°are you sure?¡±


    I gave her a thumbs up. ¡°One-hundred percent. Anyone would look at you and think, ¡®there goes a witch.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± She turned to Jacky. ¡°Mr. Noctis?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m ready, Miss Oliversen.¡±


    Olivia shut the trunk, turned, and marched off at a quick pace. Jacky and I followed her. When we reached the corner, she turned and headed up the main street. I came up to her side. Jacky stayed behind us.


    As we walked, I noticed a few more odd things about the town of Craftborough. There were more pedestrians than I would¡¯ve expected for a cold February day, most of them were female, and only a few of them glanced at Olivia¡¯s outfit as we passed.


    ¡°There¡¯s a lot of people out,¡± I said.


    ¡°Parking in this town¡¯s a nightmare, and most of the students don¡¯t have cars,¡± Olivia said.


    Students.


    I glanced at a gaggle of young women going the other way. They were laughing, talking, and all holding disposable cups featuring the name of a local coffee shop. They didn¡¯t look old enough to be college students.


    ¡°They¡¯re witches?¡± I asked in a hushed voice.


    Olivia glanced toward them. ¡°Probably.¡±


    No wonder they didn¡¯t care about her outfit.


    ¡°You were a student here, right?¡± I said.


    Olivia let out a tsk sound. ¡°Obviously.¡±


    ¡°So you know about the town?¡±


    Olivia¡¯s face took on the slightly haughty expression she wore whenever she was about to lecture someone.


    ¡°The town was founded in 1718, but it had existed as an unofficial settlement for years before that. It was a haven for witches to escape the persecution that was common from the religious communities around them. The five founders organized the first coven in North America and established Saufgrove.¡±


    ¡°Is that the name of your school?¡±


    Her face suddenly went cold and blank. ¡°It¡¯s not my school. I¡¯ve graduated.¡±


    Huh. Interesting.


    I tucked my hands in my pockets before saying in a tone I hope conveyed the perfect innocence of my curiosity, ¡°Have you been subjected to the town long enough to form an opinion?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°How would you describe it?¡±


    ¡°Archaic.¡±


    Okay. I thought the word ¡°archaic¡± meant old, but the way Olivia had said it made it sound like it meant ¡°diseased.¡±


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    She turned to Jacky. ¡°Mr. Noctis, do you know what to expect?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± Jacky assured her. ¡°Iset spent all of last night coaching me on the protocol. I¡¯m looking forward to it.¡±


    Olivia and I shared an uneasy glance. It wasn¡¯t that Jacky¡¯s grasp of protocol was bad. He was very good with manners. It was everything else that gave him problems. If he was looking forward to reporting while Olivia was nervous, that meant that he didn¡¯t know enough to be worried.


    ¡°Is there anything you¡¯d like me to do?¡± I asked Olivia.


    ¡°Yes. Stay in the back and don¡¯t say anything.¡±


    ¡°No worries. I¡¯m invisible.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡± Jacky started to say.


    I shushed him. ¡°You can¡¯t see me.¡±


    ¡°Emerra, I most certainly can see you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all right, Mr. Noctis,¡± Olivia said. ¡°I don¡¯t care if she¡¯s invisible¡±¡ªshe glared at me¡ª¡°so long as she¡¯s mute.¡±


    I locked my mouth shut and threw away the nonexistent key.


    The grand old building Olivia took us to was made of bricks that were so old their edges were rounded, and the mortar between them had aged enough the materials blended together, making the structure look like one solid mass trickled through with off-white lines. The face of it was punctuated at strict intervals by windows with ivory-colored frames and ivory-colored lines between each pane. Against the white and gray backdrop of the winter scene, the red of the bricks stood out, lending the building an extra air of authority it certainly didn¡¯t need.


    Olivia walked up the four stairs that led to the two dark wood doors. She took both iron handles and leaned all her body weight into pulling them back. After a moment, the doors gave way and swung out on their ancient hinges.


    When Olivia stepped through the doors, the first sound was her heels against the worn hard-wood floor. She turned right and walked down the long narrow hall that followed the front of the building, the sound of her heels keeping perfect time. I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that I was listening to a clock tick backwards.


    Outside a small set of dark doors, a woman was waiting. She would¡¯ve looked like any other professional woman if not for the fact she was wearing a witch¡¯s hat.


    She nodded as we approached.


    Once we were close enough, she said in a hushed voice. ¡°Good morning, Miss Oliversen. We weren¡¯t sure if you were going to make it.¡±


    ¡°Are we too late?¡±


    ¡°I glanced in a minute ago. They were about to call up the other reviewee. If you sneak in now, you should be fine.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Mrs. Barlowe.¡±


    Mrs. Barlowe pulled back one of the doors far enough for us to slip inside.


    When we entered the room, my first impression was that we were looking over a vast forest from above. But they weren¡¯t dark fir trees. They were hats. A forest of black, pointy hats.


    At least five rows of benches ran along the back and both sides of the large room, and every bench was filled with witches. More witches stood behind them or along the edges of the narrow walkways that ran between the benches to the breaks in the banister that separated the sitting area from the center of the room. The witches wore a variety of clothes, ranging from jeans and sweaters to business wear¡ªbut they all wore a black pointed wide-brimmed hat.


    I¡¯d never felt so cowed by a bunch of headwear.


    Some of the women turned to look at us as we sidled our way toward one of the last empty areas in the back. Most of them politely looked away. A few of them watched Olivia for a moment before returning their eyes to the poor girl in the center of the room.


    She had to be there to report. She looked like she was the right age, and she was trembling. An older woman stood behind her. They were facing the front of the room, where, behind a long table covered by portfolios, tablets, and papers, sat a line of the most imposing witches I could imagine.


    Each one of them sat tall on their hard-backed chair, radiating confidence and power.


    I rubbed my eyes.


    Olivia leaned over and hissed in my ear, ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    I shook my head and pressed my lips closed like a good mute¡ªhappy for an excuse to avoid answering. I was getting used to living with two legendary, magical eyeballs stuck in my head, but it wasn¡¯t always easy to explain what I was¡ªfor lack of a better word¡ª seeing.


    The confidence I could blame on their posture and bearing. But how could I see power when there was nothing to see? And why did it make my eyes hurt when I tried to focus on that particular nothing?


    The woman in the center of the head table was talking. I missed what she said, but the young witch under scrutiny answered with a humble, ¡°Yes, Mistress.¡±


    Mistress?


    I gave Olivia a quizzical look.


    She whispered, ¡°She¡¯s the head of the coven.¡±


    The head of the coven was definitely out of her twenties, but her skin was so well cared for, I couldn¡¯t tell if she was in her thirties or forties. Long wavy auburn hair ran from under her hat to a few inches below her shoulders. Her face and body were trim, and she moved with unconscious elegance. She wore loose black pants that flowed when she moved, bright purple heels that added a bold note of color to the outfit, and a simple ivory top that some designer must have spent months agonizing over until they had achieved perfection.


    Oh, yeah. That woman could definitely be the head of the coven. She looked so regal, I was amazed that she was content to be in charge of merely that.


    ¡°Mistress¡± must have been her title.


    It sounded less ridiculous in an archaic building filled with pointy black hats.


    The witch there to report stepped forward and held up her hand. My eyes followed the line of her arm to a dusky yellow candle in a black holder. It was on top of a round table that sat between her and the head witch.


    A spark of white popped at the top of the candle¡¯s wick, and a tiny flame grew along the cord until it burned with a steady light.


    I wasn¡¯t sure what was going on, but I presumed it was ceremonial. She certainly hadn¡¯t done it out of necessity. The white walls reflected the sunbeams streaming in from the windows on the side of the room, making any additional light unnecessary.


    There were other candles in the room¡ªwhat felt like hundreds of them. They were tucked into the multi-armed scones spaced around the walls. Collections of them looked over the crowd from the tall candelabras standing in each corner. And, above us all, hanging from the thick beam of an unpainted rafter, was a tremendous three-tiered chandelier lined with stately yellow candles¡ªall of their wicks, an untouched white.


    The candle the girl had lit was the only one in the whole room that was burning.


    She stepped back. The older witch stepped forward.


    The head of the coven said, ¡°Good morning, Mrs. Linns. Are you ready to witness Miss Hansley¡¯s report?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± Mrs. Linns said.


    ¡°Excellent. Miss Hansley, you may proceed.¡±


    The young woman stepped forward again and recited one of the most boring speeches I¡¯d ever heard. It covered everything she¡¯d learned in her first year of apprenticeship. Based on her rushed, monotone delivery, it was obvious she¡¯d memorized it, and considering how long the speech was, I was more impressed by that feat than most of the ones she listed.


    That¡¯s a pretty cocky attitude for someone who doesn¡¯t know the first thing about casting a charm, my brain pointed out.


    I mentally shushed myself. After all, I was supposed to be mute.


    I was still mulling over whether you ¡°cast¡± a charm or ¡°made¡± a charm when Miss Hansley finished her monologue.


    The head of the coven folded her hands over the papers in front of her. ¡°Thank you, Miss Hansley. Mrs. Linns, is her report accurate?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Mistress.¡±


    ¡°And are you satisfied with the work Miss Hansley has done?¡±


    ¡°Very satisfied.¡±


    ¡°Well done, Miss Hansley. We look forward to your final report in a year¡¯s time.¡±


    The young woman bowed. ¡°Thank you, Mistress.¡±


    There was no applause or noise from the audience, but a shower of smiles rained down on Miss Hansley as she and Mrs. Linns walked behind the banister and resumed their seats on one of the front benches. When Miss Hansley was seated, a witch behind her reached out and patted her shoulder.


    The head of the coven carelessly waved her hand without looking up from the paper she was studying. The candle on the table went out. A second later, she raised her head. Her eyes scanned the room before lancing the witch beside me.


    Olivia didn¡¯t even twitch.


    ¡°Miss Oliversen,¡± the head of the coven said, ¡°you decided to join us.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Mistress.¡±


    ¡°You were late.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Mistress.¡±


    I had wondered if Olivia would tone down the attitude since it was a special occasion. Silly me for underestimating how entrenched her personality was. Olivia¡¯s voice could have, maybe, passed as respectful, but her notable lack of any apology or explanation was as loud as a bullhorn.


    The head of the coven stared at Olivia for another second, then said, ¡°Are you and your master both present?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Mistress.¡±


    ¡°Then come forward and report.¡±

 Chapter 7 - I Will Have Her Recognized

    A murmur rose from the room when Olivia and Jacky stepped out of the crowd and into the empty aisle that led to the break in the banister.


    At first I was confused¡ªwhy were they whispering about Olivia? Of all the places in the world, I thought her outfit would draw the least attention here. Then I realized it wasn¡¯t her they were whispering about. It was Jack Noctis.


    Ever since I had opened my undead eyes that October morning, I¡¯d always seen Big Jacky for what he was. Suit. Skeleton. Death. And I had stared at him. Oh, how I had stared.


    Other people didn¡¯t. Darius had explained that most people saw Jacky as a normal man¡ªif they saw him at all. Jack Noctis had this weird tendency to slip into the background in a way that made empty air look like the main event in a three-ring circus. He could be standing right next to someone, and they¡¯d only notice him if he drew attention to himself.


    After a while, I got used to people not reacting to Jacky in the same way I got used to Jacky himself.


    But now everyone¡¯s eyes were on Olivia and her master, and they were reacting.


    The clamor would¡¯ve been a lot louder if they were watching a skeleton walk into the center of the room. When I tried to figure out what the problem was, two things occurred to me: first, Jacky was the only man in the room, and second, he wasn¡¯t wearing a pointy hat.


    Male witches existed, but they were rare, and I got the feeling that, if one had been there, he would¡¯ve had his own hat.


    Which meant the coven had just learned that Olivia Oliversen¡¯s master wasn¡¯t a witch.


    The head of the coven didn¡¯t seem surprised.


    ¡°Miss Oliversen,¡± she said, ¡°have you served under your master for a full year?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Mistress,¡± Olivia said.


    The head of the coven said to Jacky, ¡°Mr. Noctis, are you ready to witness Miss Oliversen¡¯s report?¡±


    ¡°I am here to report on behalf of Miss Oliversen,¡± Jacky said.


    The murmur that had settled when the head of the coven had started speaking rose again with new vigor.


    My eyes flew up to Olivia¡¯s face. Her stupefied expression was there and gone in under a second¡ªreplaced by an I-know-exactly-what¡¯s-going-on expression that looked forced.


    A witch in front of me leaned over to her neighbor and whispered, ¡°Can he do that?¡±


    Her neighbor whispered back, ¡°There¡¯s precedent, but it¡¯s rare.¡±


    The coven leader¡¯s look of surprise was gone almost as fast as Olivia¡¯s. She leaned forward on her chair and put her elbows on the table.


    ¡°Is there a reason you don¡¯t want Miss Oliversen reporting for herself?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Jacky said. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that, in her reserve, Miss Oliversen might downplay her accomplishments.¡±


    Holding back my snort almost blew a hole in my sinuses.


    Olivia? Reserved?


    In the back of my mind, a reasonable voice had the gall to say, Think about it¡ªhave you ever heard her brag?


    Olivia was sometimes haughty, always a know-it-all, quick to lecture, and as gentle and considerate as a bag of nails¡­but I couldn¡¯t think of a single time I¡¯d ever heard her brag.


    Jacky went on, ¡°I will have her recognized.¡±


    The murmuring stopped and an uneasy silence filled the room.


    The head of the coven tapped her finger on the table a few times.


    ¡°Mr. Noctis,¡± she said, ¡°my understanding is that you¡¯re not a witch¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ignorance is not understanding. My status and nature are protected information.¡±


    ¡°Under which Torr?¡±


    ¡°All of them.¡±


    There was something delicious about seeing that woman fazed, even temporarily.


    She shook her head. ¡°That¡¯s beside the point¡ª¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t agree more,¡± Jacky said. ¡°I¡¯m Olivia Oliversen¡¯s master. She¡¯s worked under me the last twelve-month, and I¡¯m here to report on her behalf.¡±


    The head of the coven let her imperious eyes rest on Noctis for a long time.


    Good luck staring him down, sister.


    At last, the woman turned her gaze to Olivia. ¡°Miss Oliversen, are you ready to witness your master¡¯s report?¡±


    Olivia kept her voice firm. ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°Jack Noctis, you may proceed.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Jacky pulled out two small cylinders from his jacket pocket and laid them on the table beside the single candle. From where I was sitting and with all the people in the way, I couldn¡¯t tell what they were.


    Jacky said, ¡°When Olivia came to my household, she was already an accomplished witch, but in the year that she¡¯s been with me, she has progressed considerably. She¡¯s learned principles and theories from every major branch of magic, excluding the thrismages, and using Merlin¡¯s law of communality, she¡¯s adapted the information to her own work, creating entirely new threads of witchcraft which will take decades to fully exploit.¡±


    He took one of the small cylinders, ran the tip of his thumb bone along it, and unrolled it. It was an honest-to-god scroll. The end of the paper flew out from his hand. It was six feet long.


    ¡°I will spare you the details of her studies,¡± Jacky said. ¡°Reading them all would be tedious in the extreme and exhaust your minute-taker. Instead, I would submit this list to be kept with your records, should the need to consult it arise.¡±


    The witch at the end of the table¡ªthe one that had been writing the entire time¡ªstopped and looked up at the head of the coven. The auburn-haired witch nodded.


    The witch, presumably the minute-taker, stood up and walked over to Jacky. He handed her the scroll.


    The head witch motioned to the other cylinder. ¡°Is that another scroll, Mr. Noctis?¡±


    ¡°It is.¡±


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t fit all her studies on one list?¡±


    ¡°By cutting out some particulars and sticking with the general categories for the less important branches, we managed to keep them all on one scroll.¡± He laid his hand on the second scroll. ¡°This is a list of the spells she¡¯s learned to cast, the tools she¡¯s learned to create, and the spells and tools that she¡¯s invented.¡±


    The witch to the right of the head witch burst out, ¡°Invented?¡±


    The head of the coven glared at her from the corner of her eye. The other witch sat back and pressed her lips together.


    The head of the coven turned to the minute-taker. ¡°Ms. Keath.¡±


    Keath picked up the second scroll and brought it to the head witch. She took it and unrolled the first part. Every eye was on her as she read.


    ¡°Some of these are standard spells,¡± the head of the coven observed.


    ¡°The rest are not,¡± Jacky said.


    The head witch rolled up the scroll and handed it back to Ms. Keath. ¡°Miss Oliversen, I hope you¡¯re prepared to acquit yourself of these claims.¡±


    Olivia was about to answer, but Jacky spoke first.


    ¡°Do you think I lied?¡±


    You could have heard a pin drop in that fathomless silence.


    When the head of the coven spoke, her voice was as even and calm as Jacky¡¯s had been. ¡°Mr. Noctis, these reports are utilitarian. The apprentice¡¯s accomplishments are recorded against her name so that the coven can reach out to her if we need someone with that knowledge or experience¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware of that. That¡¯s why we provided you with those lists. However, I was led to believe that you asked the witness for their confirmation only at the end of the interview.¡±


    Olivia clutched the edge of her cape.


    A witness confirmed that the report was true. A witness wasn¡¯t tested¡ªespecially not by some malicious pop-quiz invented on the spur of the moment. I wondered if Iset had enough foresight to coach Jacky on exactly how to manipulate the situation, or if Jacky¡ªgod bless his clueless skull¡ªblundered onto it by accident.


    ¡°I thought you were done, Mr. Noctis,¡± the head of the coven said. ¡°You¡¯ve presented us with her studies and her practice. What more is there?¡±


    ¡°Her work.¡±


    Ms. Keath, with her head slightly ducked, went back to her seat and picked up her pen.


    ¡°No scroll for this one?¡± the head witch asked.


    Jacky missed the sarcasm. Of course.


    ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°The list is, mercifully, shorter, and I would prefer to recite it myself. Her studies and practice are doubtless of greater interest to an academic institution, but her work was an act of service, and it has meant the most to me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure we all look forward to it.¡±


    Jacky missed the sarcasm there too. But maybe it wasn¡¯t sarcasm. It almost sounded like irritation.


    Jacky said, ¡°Olivia Oliversen has offered her services to me numerous times and was quick to accept any requests I made. If, at the time of the request, she didn¡¯t know how to do something, she put aside all her other work and studies in order to learn everything she needed to fulfill the task. She has created complex tools for me. She¡¯s cast numerous spells. Every tool and every spell has functioned without fault. She¡¯s consulted with torrmen. She¡¯s aided seven Torr teams, and she¡¯s acted as a temporary member of two Torr enforcement units. Finally, she has kept my personal home safe by creating a long-term ward that she maintains every day. It covers a sizable mansion and is strong enough to withstand an assault from a supernatural monster.¡±


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    The witch to the right of the head witch said, ¡°How do you know that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been tested.¡±


    I remembered the wendigo scraping his faces over the blinding blue light of the ward.


    Sure. Tested.


    It wasn¡¯t technically the wrong word, but it didn¡¯t quite cover the nuance of the situation¡ªsuch as the bowel-destroying sense of terror.


    I was far enough to the side that I could make out the faint pink hue blooming under Olivia¡¯s freckles. When I saw it, I smiled. She always blushed when someone gave her a compliment. It was one of the few things about her that I found endearing.


    Another was that ward.


    The head of the coven said, ¡°Is there any more, Mr. Noctis?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Are you satisfied with Miss Oliversen¡¯s work as your apprentice?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m more than satisfied. I am grateful.¡±


    There was so much sincerity in his words that, even though they were meant for someone else, I felt my own heart rise.


    The head witch¡ªaka, Mistress Made-of-Marble¡ªturned her cold eyes to Olivia.


    ¡°Miss Oliversen.¡±


    Olivia stepped forward. Jacky stepped back.


    ¡°Is your master¡¯s report accurate?¡±


    The pink of Olivia¡¯s cheeks darkened by another shade. ¡°Yes, Mistress.¡±


    ¡°You stand here prepared to swear that, if called on, you could speak to any topic or perform any spell mentioned in these scrolls?¡±


    ¡°Given the time and the proper tools, yes, Mistress.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d need time to study?¡±


    Olivia¡¯s face hardened. ¡°I¡¯d need time to prepare and cast the spells. Some of them are complex.¡±


    Olivia and the head witch watched each other, their eyes slightly narrowed. The rest of us waited to see if there would be another jab. It was clear Olivia was expecting one. Her whole posture was braced for combat.


    The Mistress looked down and moved one of the papers in front of her. ¡°Very well.¡±


    Olivia relaxed. Everyone relaxed. When all those shoulders eased at once, it looked like the room itself was exhaling.


    The head of the coven said, ¡°We¡¯ll expect your final report in a year¡¯s time.¡±


    What? No ¡°well done?¡± No ¡°we¡¯ll be looking forward to it?¡± That miffed me.


    Olivia bowed theatrically low and said, ¡°Thank you, Mistress.¡±


    She turned and, with a proud step, moved toward the back of the room. Jacky turned to follow.


    ¡°By the by,¡± the head of the coven said, ¡°I notice that you haven¡¯t lit the candle.¡±


    Olivia and Jacky stopped. Olivia looked over her shoulder. Her face was stiff.


    The head witch glanced up as she shuffled a few more papers. This wasn¡¯t a casual glance to check if Olivia had heard her; it was the rifle shot at Lexington and Concord.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize that you¡¯d think it was important,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°It¡¯s traditional.¡±


    It was at that moment that I decided I could never be a witch. When I fought with someone, I was like a rhinoceros in full charge. There was often name-calling, and I always raised my voice to say¡ªor, more accurately, yell¡ªexactly how mad I was. People who could fight with that kind of restrained grace had to be a different species.


    Important? The head witch wouldn¡¯t say that. No, no. She would say ¡°traditional,¡± as if it was nothing more than a simple fact, and give Olivia all the rope she needed to hang herself. If Olivia chose not to light the candle, then that would be Olivia declaring, in front of everyone, that she didn¡¯t think tradition was important.


    I scanned the room. Some of the witches looked uneasy. Others were frowning at Olivia, their eyes nothing more than slivers of ice.


    Olivia finished turning around so fast the edge of her dress rolled out, as if she was twirling. ¡°Of course.¡±


    She managed only two steps toward the candle before the head witch spoke.


    ¡°From there, please.¡±


    Olivia stopped.


    The silence was broken by a nervous voice. A plump witch, left of the head witch, had leaned over to say, ¡°Mistress¡ª¡±


    The head witch said, ¡°Olivia Oliversen graduated at the top of her class, and she¡¯s had an extra year of advanced study on numerous subjects. She should have no trouble lighting the candle from there.¡±


    ¡°B-but¡ª¡±


    ¡°Mrs. Bovoyay seems to be worried about something, Miss Oliversen. Is she right? Do you need to have an exception made for you?¡±


    There was no disguising Olivia¡¯s hostility now. If words could kill, Olivia¡¯s stark ¡°no¡± would have put a hole through the woman, and there would¡¯ve been a room full of witnesses to the murder.


    The head witch nodded to the candle. ¡°Then, if you please.¡±


    Olivia raised her right arm in front of her while her left hand snuck behind her back. All the witches watched her right hand with a look of nervous anticipation. I watched her left index finger squiggle around, drawing out a small white glowing rune in the air behind her.


    ¡°A rune, Miss Oliversen?¡±


    I raised my eyes. The head witch was leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. There was a subtle look of contempt on her face.


    There was no way she should have been able to see that rune. None. Olivia¡¯s body was between her and it. That meant she must have sensed it. Since everyone else looked faintly surprised, she might have been the only one that had.


    The head witch said softly, ¡°I thought you were a witch.¡±


    ¡°Witches use tools,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°Not for something like this.¡±


    When Olivia brought her arm around to the front, the rune wavered and disappeared. She pulled the hat from her head, swept it across her chest, and bowed again.


    ¡°To witchcraft then!¡± Olivia said.


    All around us, a billion sparks of white danced in the air, blazing for a moment, fading, blazing again, almost blinding me. I squinted against the gaudy glare but, otherwise, tried not to react. I could hear the murmur of uncomfortable people, but no one was looking around, and no one was covering their eyes. I was probably the only one seeing the monochrome firework display.


    There was a whisper of a noise, like a low, tiny, whomph, and the billions of sparks faded for the last time. When I opened my eyes wide, the room was filled with a yellow-orange light. Every last wick on each candle in every scone, every candelabrum, and each tier of the chandelier was burning. On the table in front of the head witch, the solitary candle glowed.


    ¡°It¡¯s lit,¡± Olivia said.


    The head of the coven drew herself up with a long inhale. ¡°Well¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s lit,¡± Olivia repeated. She turned and walked past the banister. Jacky followed her. The other witches moved aside so they could take their places next to me.


    The mistress was still for a few seconds, but whatever she was thinking, she decided not to say anything. She looked down at the papers in front of her and waved her hand to put out the candles.


    ¡°That¡¯s our last review for the day,¡± she said, ¡°and our last review for the week, since many of us will be busy preparing for the Besom Days¡­¡±


    I tuned her out. I didn¡¯t care about coven business, and I wanted to count the number of candles that had escaped the woman¡¯s efforts to extinguish them. They were at the furthest edges of the room, glowing in luminous defiance.


    I elbowed Olivia, smiled, and nodded to one of the still burning candles. Her eyes flicked over, then returned to the front. A smile tugged at the edge of her lips.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I whispered in her ear, ¡°does that woman hate you or something?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure she would,¡± Olivia whispered back, ¡°but that would be ¡®unprofessional.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Is there a reason? Did you step on her cat or something?¡±


    A look of frustration and grief skimmed over Olivia¡¯s features. ¡°It¡¯s because I didn¡¯t do what she wanted.¡±


    Disturbing buried pain wasn¡¯t a hobby I indulged in. I shut my mouth and looked toward the front of the room.


    While our whispered conversation had been going on, the head of the coven had finished the meeting. All the witches were gathering their things and standing to leave. The head witch tucked her papers away in a tasteful leather messenger bag, removed her hat, and shook out her hair.


    I¡¯d been silently snarking about the title ¡°Mistress¡± since I¡¯d heard it. I knew it was traditional and proper for a woman with power, but to me, it made it sound like she had a horde of devoted men on the side. Looking at how beautiful she was, it¡¯d be hard to blame them.


    People filed past us.


    ¡°Should we go?¡± Jacky asked.


    ¡°We need to wait for Autumn,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°Let¡¯s at least get out of the way,¡± I suggested.


    Olivia led us over to an already empty row so we wouldn¡¯t be blocking the main aisle. Most of the witches walked right by Olivia, noses in the air, careful never to meet her eyes. Some glared at her.


    That was my Olivia. Making friends wherever she went.


    A few witches¡ªvery few witches¡ªoffered Olivia a sly smile as they left. It was one of the smiling ones that waved out the rest of the candles.


    Beside me, Olivia stiffened. I followed her gaze to see what was bothering her. The head witch was already halfway across the floor and heading straight for us.


    Gosh. This was going to be fun.


    The mistress stopped in front of us. She was looking down at her phone, tapping on the screen, when she spoke.


    ¡°That was quite the display you put on, Olivia.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Olivia said.


    The woman¡¯s eyes whipped up to Olivia¡¯s face. ¡°That wasn¡¯t a compliment.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that would depend on what my goal was, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Hmm. And I suppose you¡¯re very proud of yourself.¡±


    ¡°I am, Mother.¡±


    Time did a slow-motion double take, giving me the extra minute I needed to process what I¡¯d heard. If I¡¯d been living in an anime, you could¡¯ve seen the dot¡­dot¡­dot¡­pop up on the screen above my head.


    Did¡ªdid she just say Mother?


    I tried not to stare. I failed. I¡¯m sure I looked like one of those brainless, wide-eyed fish, goggling at the woman in front of me.


    Yup. I could see it. Olivia¡¯s hair was a lighter, brighter red, but the texture was the same, and their faces had similar bone structure. Since I couldn¡¯t imagine Olivia in anything other than black, I had to superimpose a goth outfit on the older woman. When I pictured that, the resemblance was striking.


    The head witch tucked her phone into her pocket and reached out to shake hands with Jacky. ¡°Thank you for looking after my daughter, Mr. Noctis. I hope she hasn¡¯t been too much trouble.¡±


    ¡°You heard my report, Mrs. Oliversen,¡± Jacky said. ¡°She¡¯s been invaluable.¡±


    The woman hummed again, then turned to me. She put out her hand. ¡°I¡¯m Ellis Sofie Emma Tara Grace Oliversen.¡±


    As we shook, I said, ¡°Emerra Cole. Just¡­uh¡­just those two names.¡±


    ¡°Are you friends with Olivia?¡±


    That was a darn good question. Not that we were friends. Ha! No. But I was pretty sure that Olivia wanted to keep quiet about the real reason why she was there. That meant lying, and lying meant we needed a cover story.


    When in doubt, dodge.


    ¡°I was curious what a coven meeting would look like,¡± I said. ¡°Olivia was kind enough to let me come along.¡±


    That was mostly true which made it easier for me to say with conviction.


    ¡°Will you be staying for the celebration?¡± Mrs. Oliversen asked.


    I wasn¡¯t that good at dodging. I turned to Olivia.


    Olivia¡¯s answer came out one stunted word at a time: ¡°We don¡¯t know.¡±


    The mistress cocked her head. ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a few things¡ª¡±


    ¡°Besom Days is this weekend.¡±


    Olivia sounded annoyed. ¡°I know, Mother. It happens every year.¡±


    ¡°But this year is the three hundredth anniversary. The whole coven is gathering. We have special guests coming from out of town. I thought that was the only reason you bothered coming.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not¡ª¡±


    ¡°Where are you staying?¡±


    Olivia spoke through her clenched teeth. ¡°We haven¡¯t decided if we¡¯re staying yet.¡±


    ¡°Meaning you¡¯ve made no preparations.¡± Mrs. Oliversen sighed through her nose. ¡°That was irresponsible of you, Olivia.¡±


    Olivia went red and looked down at the floor.


    Her mother pulled her phone from her pocket. ¡°I¡¯ll call Janice and have her prepare the guest rooms.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s head jerked up. ¡°No!¡±


    Mrs. Oliversen paused, her finger hovering over her phone¡¯s screen. ¡°You have an objection?¡±


    Olivia must have had dozens of objections. I could see them warring behind her eyes, vying for the title of ¡°Biggest Reason Why Olivia Would Rather Be Eaten Alive By Rats Than Stay With Her Mother.¡±


    Since the war would probably be a long one, Olivia only repeated herself.


    ¡°We haven¡¯t decided if we¡¯re staying.¡±


    ¡°And if you do decide to stay, what then?¡± Mrs. Oliversen said. ¡°Did you really think you¡¯d be able to find a room on such short notice?¡± When Olivia didn¡¯t answer, she added, ¡°Did you think at all?¡±


    ¡°Um, excuse me.¡±


    What? Who said that? And why was Mrs. Oliversen looking at¡ªoh, crap. It was me. I¡¯d said it.


    I grabbed Olivia¡¯s arm and smiled at her mother. ¡°If you could please give us, you know, a minute. Or two.¡±


    I dragged Olivia to the corner of the room.


    When I turned to her, she hissed, ¡°I thought you were supposed to be mute!¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± I put a hand to my chest, ¡°Believe me, I get that! It¡¯s my mouth we have to convince.¡±


    ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Maybe we should take your mother up on her offer.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Maybe we should¡ª¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t an offer, Emerra! She¡¯s bossing me around.¡±


    ¡°Okay, yeah, it wasn¡¯t the most polite way¡ª¡±


    Olivia glared at a line in the floorboards. ¡°I¡¯m not going back. I¡¯m never going back.¡±


    A small crack appeared in my heart. Out of it came a whisper of sympathy that had escaped from the deepest part of my soul.


    I put my hand on Olivia¡¯s shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s a five-hour drive.¡±


    The witch raised her eyes. I¡¯d never really looked into them before. The green flecks that dominated the hazel color glinted like a glass bottle in the sun.


    I said, ¡°If something¡¯s wrong and we have to look for your friend, do you really want to waste all that time driving?¡±


    ¡°We can find somewhere closer,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°Yeah, but how close? I mean, it¡¯s the three-hundredth anniversary. I don¡¯t know what the celebration is about, but I do know that people have a weird affection for big round numbers.¡±


    Olivia gnawed on the edge of her bottom lip.


    I continued, ¡°Or we could be here, at the scene, staying with the head of the coven who probably gets all the news first.¡± I paused. ¡°Correct me if I¡¯m wrong.¡±


    A second later, Olivia gave a violent shrug to dislodge me. ¡°Get your hand off my shoulder.¡±


    I followed her back to her mother and Jacky.


    Olivia said, ¡°Do you want to call Janice now, or would you like me to let you know once we¡¯ve made our decision?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t make it now?¡± Mrs. Oliversen said.


    ¡°No, Mother. I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Then I suppose we¡¯ll have to accommodate you. I¡¯ll call Janice and Nylah and let them know what¡¯s happening.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Olivia looked ill. Extracting those two words had probably knocked five years off her life.


    ¡°Will you be going home now?¡± Mrs. Oliversen asked.


    ¡°We have things to do.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll see you later this evening.¡±


    ¡°If we decide to stay.¡±


    The head of the coven started toward the exit without looking back. ¡°Have it your way, Olivia.¡±


    I can¡¯t say I was sorry to see her go.

 Chapter 8 - Autumn Langley

    As Ellis Oliversen disappeared from the doorway, an arm reached by me and tapped Olivia on the shoulder. We all turned.


    The woman was in her late twenties. She had dark skin with a warm undertone that made her almost glow. Her coily black hair was only three inches long and so thick that the wild curls stood off her head like a crown. In contrast to the wildness of her curls, most of her clothing was stark and professional, but her necklace and earrings flaunted a variety of bright, bold colors.


    I¡¯ll admit it, I was jealous of the jewelry. And the glow in her skin. And the hair too. Who wouldn¡¯t want to be crowned every morning?


    There was a witch¡¯s hat in her hand and a huge smile on her face.


    ¡°Well done, Olivia,¡± she said.


    Olivia gave her a real smile in return. That wide, beautiful grin was a rare expression. This was someone that Olivia was genuinely happy to see.


    ¡°Miss Langley,¡± she said.


    The other witch shook her head. ¡°How dare you, not-so-little ginger. I heard that report. The only reason you aren¡¯t a master of the arts is because you¡¯re still an apprentice. You¡¯ll call me Autumn.¡±


    ¡°I will?¡±


    ¡°You will! I can still teach you a thing or two.¡± She tilted her head to the side. ¡°Probably.¡±


    They stood there, smiling at each other, and I had a whole new reason to be jealous.


    Olivia turned to Big Jacky. ¡°Mr. Noctis, this is Autumn Langley. She was one of my teachers while I was at Saufgrove.¡±


    As they shook, Jacky said, ¡°Do you prefer to be called Autumn?¡±


    ¡°Most of the time.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Autumn. Most people call me Big Jacky.¡±


    ¡°Big Jacky, thank you for doing right by Olivia.¡±


    ¡°I only told the truth,¡± Jacky said, his voice pitched slightly higher because of his confusion.


    I bit my lip to hide my smile. Poor death. It should¡¯ve been a simple job: stand up and tell the truth. He couldn¡¯t understand why everyone was being so weird about it.


    Olivia motioned to me. ¡°And this is Emerra Cole.¡±


    Autumn didn¡¯t even glance at my bald head. She looked right in my eyes, shook my hand, and smiled.


    I saw the sadness. And the worry. They were there¡ªin her eyes. I could see them as if they were real things. It looked like a pair of two-dimensional gremlins that were standing sideways in the twilight so only their dim shadows could be seen.


    ¡°Oh, geez,¡± I blurted out. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    Autumn¡¯s smile faltered.


    ¡°Emerra,¡± Olivia hissed. Her eyes were wide with horror at my socially unacceptable behavior.


    I blushed and let go of Autumn¡¯s hand. ¡°Sorry. Don¡¯t listen to me. I¡¯m¡­uh¡­yeah.¡± I cleared my throat.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s all right, ¡± Autumn said (rather generously, I thought). ¡°Are you a witch, darling?¡±


    ¡°Gosh, no. Not even close. I might buy the hat though. Try to fit in.¡±


    Autumn chuckled. ¡°Here.¡± She handed me her hat. ¡°You can borrow mine.¡±


    ¡°Can I?¡± I squeaked.


    Thrilled to the core, I took the hat, put it on, and knew in an instant why witches wore them. What a sense of power!


    I pulled back my shoulders, put one hand on my hip, and used the other hand to tug the brim of the hat down at an angle.


    ¡°How do I look?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Like an idiot,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°Ah-ha! But like a magical idiot, right?¡±


    Jacky said, ¡°Olivia, her hat is nearly identical to yours. Does that mean you look like an idiot?¡±


    I corrected him: ¡°A magical idiot.¡±


    Olivia rolled her eyes.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Autumn said. ¡°Let me take you all out to lunch. We¡¯ll celebrate your report.¡±


    ¡°Is Robin¡¯s still open?¡± Olivia asked.


    ¡°Robin¡¯s will outlast us all,¡± Autumn assured her.


    ¡°Hold on,¡± I said.


    I got a good selfie before returning the hat to Autumn. I figured it¡¯d probably be the only chance I¡¯d ever get to take a picture of me in a real witch¡¯s hat. There was no chance Olivia would ever let me borrow hers.


    We walked down Main Street, flowing with the stream of people that¡¯d been released by the meeting. I recognized a few of the faces, and I could see a few hats¡ªbut they were all in their hands. Only Olivia was wearing hers.


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    Robin¡¯s turned out to be a local sandwich pub.


    I gazed up at their hand-carved wooden sign. The words were painted a shiny black and the bird¡¯s chest was painted bright red, but everything else was the color of the natural wood.


    ¡°What¡¯s a sandwich pub?¡± I asked.


    ¡°They specialize in sandwiches and like the word ¡®pub.¡¯¡± Olivia said.


    Autumn held the door open for us.


    With my first step inside, the coziness of the restaurant filled me like an unexpected breath of summer air. Part of that atmosphere had to come from their warm neutral decor, set off by the occasional red and blue accent colors. The rest of it came from all the people, smiling, chatting, and filling up the chairs and tables. To the side of the room was a long counter. At the far end, a crowd was waiting to pick up their orders. Near the door was the line of people waiting to give theirs.


    Since we wanted to eat in the restaurant, we had Big Jacky go claim one of the few remaining empty tables. Olivia told Autumn what she wanted, then went to join Jacky to get away from the crowd, but I was stuck staring at the over-head chalkboard menus in an agony of indecision.


    Why did restaurants have to have so many good choices? Had they no mercy for the resolutionally impaired?


    Maybe I should close my eyes and throw a dart.


    I was looking around for a dart when I noticed that Olivia, while shedding her cape, had taken off her hat. The incognito witches at the other tables had tucked theirs down by their feet or behind their bags. Olivia put hers up on the corner of the table.


    Autumn leaned close to me and said, ¡°Does she still wear that everywhere?¡±


    ¡°The hat?¡±


    Autumn nodded.


    ¡°Any time we¡¯re outside,¡± I said.


    Autumn¡¯s smile made the bubbles of her cheeks stand out. ¡°Good for her.¡±


    ¡°Um, don¡¯t you guys have to obey secrecy laws or something?¡± I asked.


    ¡°In this town?¡± She let out a snort. ¡°If you¡¯re here for longer than a day, you might as well be an initiate. Besides, those rules never apply to clothing.¡±


    ¡°But none of the other witches wore their hats outside of the meeting.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s nothing but fashion. It¡¯s considered puffed up to wear it when you aren¡¯t required to.¡±


    After a thoughtful pause, I said, ¡°Does Olivia know that?¡±


    There was a longer pause while Autumn regarded me. Her face was unusually still.


    ¡°Are you and Olivia close?¡± she asked.


    I didn¡¯t mean to grimace, and I would¡¯ve absolved myself of all association with the expression if I could have. My face had made itself¡ªI had nothing to do with it.


    ¡°We¡¯re housemates.¡± In case that wasn¡¯t enough, I added, ¡°It¡¯s a really big house.¡±


    Autumn¡¯s smile was full of sympathy. ¡°She can be a handful, can¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°I thought you two were friends.¡±


    ¡°Oh, we are, honey. I love that girl. She¡¯s my hero. But she can still be a handful, and if she heard us, I think she¡¯d be mad that I¡¯d put it so mildly.¡±


    Silence. Then:


    Huh!


    In the distance, a new idea, peeked around the edge of my consciousness. I¡¯d never asked myself how much of Olivia¡¯s behavior was deliberate.


    ¡°How long have you known her?¡± I said.


    ¡°I met her when she was eleven,¡± Autumn said. ¡°She¡¯d been studying at Saufgrove since she was six, but when you¡¯re eleven or twelve, you test to see if you can get into the secondary program.¡± Autumn¡¯s face glowed bright. ¡°What a cute little thing she was. She tried to act all brave, but she¡¯d chew on her hair if you looked away.¡±


    I tried to imagine Olivia cute and nervous. It was no good. As far as I was concerned, she popped out of the earth when she was sixteen and already clogged with confidence.


    Autumn went on, ¡°I worked with her for five years after that.¡±


    ¡°You were her teacher all five years?¡±


    The way Autumn hesitated made me wonder if I¡¯d said something wrong. Again.


    ¡°I was¡­more like a tutor,¡± she said at last. ¡°A mentor. She didn¡¯t need me for the last two years, but by then we were in the habit.¡±


    Six years back. And Autumn looked like she was still in her twenties.


    Oh, well. There¡¯s nothing like a rude question to really establish expectations.


    ¡°How old were you when you met Olivia?¡±


    Autumn¡¯s face scrunched up as she calculated. ¡°Nineteen.¡±


    ¡°They let you teach when you were nineteen?¡±


    She laughed at my amazement. ¡°There¡¯s no certificates for teaching magic, honey.¡±


    ¡°Still¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. They had me work with the younger girls, doing all the easy magic work.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯ve been working there ever since?¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯ll probably work there for a long time yet.¡± Autumn nodded up to the front of the store. ¡°Do you know what you want?¡±


    The guy behind the cash register was waiting for us. Since his face radiated nothing but patience and friendly customer service, I assumed that his wage was competitive for a small town.


    There were still no darts around. I told Autumn to double whatever her order was.


    When we brought the food back to the table, Olivia sat forward on her chair.


    My butt barely had time to settle on my seat before she said, ¡°Have you heard anything about Kirby?¡±


    Autumn was still standing over the table. She paused for a quarter of a second, then she finished passing Olivia her sandwich and chips.


    As she sat down, she said, ¡°Tell me something, little ginger, were you even planning on coming to give your report?¡±


    Olivia took the drink Autumn was holding out. ¡°I hadn¡¯t planned on it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought. I suppose it¡¯s a good thing I wrote you that letter.¡± Her voice was quiet, and there was a note of sadness in it. Her eyes met Olivia¡¯s. ¡°You know, you have friends that think about you.¡±


    The corners of Olivia¡¯s mouth turned down, and she looked away.


    ¡°You came because Kirby¡¯s missing?¡± Autumn prompted.


    ¡°You were worried,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°That¡¯s a long way to drive because I¡¯m a worrier.¡±


    ¡°No, it wasn¡¯t. I¡¯m worried too. Have you heard anything?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. The only thing we know is that he¡¯s gone.¡±


    Jacky suddenly said, ¡°Nolan Kirby is alive.¡±


    He might as well have tased the poor woman. Autumn¡¯s whole body went rigid, her eyes widened, and she turned to him.


    ¡°How do you know that?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I have special insight.¡±


    She leaned toward him. ¡°Can you tell me anything else? Do you know where he is?¡±


    Jacky shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, that¡¯s all I know.¡±


    The tension bled away, leaving behind a furrowed brow and a confused look on Autumn¡¯s face.


    Olivia rushed to ask, ¡°How did you find out he was missing?¡±


    It took a moment for Autumn¡¯s attention to shift from Jacky to Olivia. ¡°I stopped by his shop,¡± she explained. ¡°It was closed, locked up, and there was a sign on the door, saying that he¡¯d ¡®gone on vacation.¡¯¡±


    She didn¡¯t do the air-quotes gesture, but I could hear them surrounding Mr. Kirby¡¯s supposed vacation with contempt.


    Jacky couldn¡¯t.


    ¡°Then¡­doesn¡¯t it make sense that he¡¯d be on vacation?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Kirby wouldn¡¯t have gone without telling me,¡± Autumn said. ¡°I stopped by his store the day before he disappeared. I stop by most days. He would¡¯ve told me if he was leaving.¡±


    ¡°You two are friends?¡± Olivia asked.


    When Autumn turned to her former student, she was smiling, but the weight of her sadness kept the smile from reaching her eyes.


    ¡°I went in to buy something about three months after you left. Apparently, some little redhead had mentioned my name to him a few times. He recognized it, and he knew I was from Saufgrove. He asked me if I knew how you were doing, and we got to chatting. That¡¯s how we met.¡±


    The sweetness in Autumn¡¯s voice reached into Olivia, exploiting whatever crack it had found in her armor, and her near permanent expression of cynicism softened.


    Autumn reached out and tapped the back of her hand. ¡°I told you. You have friends that think about you.¡±


    Maybe it did make a difference.

 Chapter 9 - The Cold Shop

    Every back alley I¡¯ve ever been in has the same neglected feeling to it. The front of the buildings have to look well kept, so if peeling paint wants to survive, it has to hide out in the back, nourished by the scattered litter, the faint smell emanating from the closed garbage cans, and an omnipresent loneliness.


    This one felt less lonely because the four of us were gathered around the same door. Its paint was peeling.


    ¡°Well?¡± Jacky said.


    ¡°I warned you,¡± Autumn said.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Olivia asked.


    ¡°Oh, for Pete¡¯s sake!¡± I reached out and grabbed the doorknob. It wouldn¡¯t turn. ¡°It¡¯s locked.¡±


    Autumn had enough humor left to smile as she shook her head. ¡°I warned you,¡± she repeated.


    Olivia gazed at the knob with a thoughtful look on her face.


    ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it,¡± Autumn said. ¡°Ansel would haul you up and fillet you.¡±


    ¡°Ansel¡¯s in charge?¡± Olivia asked.


    ¡°Spearing retired. Ansel was appointed the next day.¡±


    Olivia scowled at the door as if it¡¯d been the one to offer the appointment.


    Autumn went on, ¡°Kirby usually leaves a spare key tucked under that rock, but it¡¯s gone. There¡¯s no way to get in.¡±


    The long silence was broken by death.


    He went ¡°huh.¡±


    We all looked at Big Jacky.


    ¡°That¡¯s odd,¡± he said, ¡°even for a¡ª¡±


    Olivia stepped on his foot before he could say ¡°human.¡± Like some people who know how to ask where the bathroom is in almost every language, Jacky was well versed in all forms of nonverbal communication that were aimed at getting him to shut up.


    But Autumn was still watching him.


    I tried to fill in the gap. ¡°What¡¯s odd?¡±


    Jacky rubbed the top of his shoe on the back of his other leg, ¡°My understanding was that spare keys are left out so that nonresidents would have a way to get inside or a way to lock the door if they left when the owner wasn¡¯t around. They aren¡¯t normally used by the person who lives there unless they¡¯re unusually forgetful.¡±


    ¡°Kirby wasn¡¯t forgetful,¡± Autumn insisted.


    ¡°Then why would he remove the key?¡± Jacky asked.


    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°Right!¡± I took a step forward. ¡°Come on, Jacky. We¡¯re going inside.¡±


    ¡°I thought we¡¯ve established that there¡¯s no way in,¡± Autumn said.


    ¡°We¡¯ve established that there¡¯s no key and the door is locked,¡± I said. ¡°There are lots of ways to get inside that don¡¯t involve keys.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to break in?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I put a hand to my chest. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dream of it! After all, I¡¯m trying to stay out of trouble. Especially if Conrad asks.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s Conrad?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s her zookeeper,¡± Olivia said.


    I grabbed Jacky¡¯s skeletal hand without looking at it. My brain still got miffed whenever it expected to touch bones and felt a normal body instead. I stepped toward the door but was jerked back by Jacky¡¯s stiff arm. He hadn¡¯t budged.


    ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to do this,¡± Noctis said. ¡°Darius has explained it to me. Multiple times.¡±


    Stupid vampire.


    ¡°Darius?¡± Autumn whispered to Olivia.


    Olivia sighed. ¡°And that¡¯s his zookeeper.¡±


    ¡°Jacky,¡± I said, ¡°I know for a fact you¡¯ve done this before.¡±


    ¡°Those were in extenuating circumstances,¡± he said.


    ¡°Are these not extenuating circumstances?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know that a crime has been committed here.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re going to find out!¡±


    ¡°And if there hasn¡¯t been? If Mr. Kirby really has gone on vacation?¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll know for sure that we shouldn¡¯t have done it.¡±


    Jacky tapped the front of his jaw bone with his free hand. ¡°I suppose some certainty would simplify the situation.¡±


    ¡°Cool! Let¡¯s go get some certainty.¡± I tugged on his arm again.


    This time it was Autumn that stopped me.


    ¡°You won¡¯t use magic, will you?¡± she asked.


    It all seemed like magic to me, but spending four months around a nit-picky vampire had taught me that other people in the magical community didn¡¯t see it that way. If it didn¡¯t use magic power, then it wasn¡¯t magic.


    ¡°Nah,¡± I said. ¡°All the same, if you like plausible deniability, you might want to investigate that handy distraction over there.¡± I pointed behind her and Olivia.


    Autumn eyed me. Her smirk only lifted one side of her mouth. Then she slowly turned away. Olivia followed her lead.


    ¡°What? Where?¡± Autumn cried.


    She would have made a wonderful B-list actress.


    Hand in weird skeletal-not-skeletal hand, Jacky and I walked through the door without opening it.


    That was his power. Maybe it was because death could go anywhere and reach everyone. Or maybe he could make himself so unsubstantial that not even the door noticed him.


    The lights were on, but there was a heavy chill in the air that made the store feel more empty and lonely than the alley we''d left behind. I turned, unlocked the door, and opened it. Olivia and Autumn came inside, shutting the door behind themselves, while I took my first good look around.


    We were standing in a small storage area. It was filled, almost to overflowing, with boxes, bags, and crowded shelves, but I could tell there was an order to everything. The area was cut off from the rest of the shop by a partial wall. Back in the corner was a staircase that led up to the second floor.


    I nodded to it. ¡°Does that lead to more storage?¡±


    Autumn looked in the direction of my nod and a gentle smile lit up her face. ¡°I say yes. Nolan would say no. It¡¯s supposed to be his apartment, but his store keeps crawling up the stairs like some hungry blob.¡±


    Her voice had dropped into a quiet drawl when she¡¯d said the word ¡°crawling,¡± making it sound more like ¡°crawlin.¡¯¡± It seemed natural in her mouth, as if that was her real accent, and the rest of the time she was consciously shaping each word. There was something tender about that moment of forgetfulness.


    I noticed that she called him Nolan, not just Kirby. She also knew he had a spare key, and she knew what his apartment looked like.


    My heart murmured with sympathy. No wonder she felt so sad and worried.


    ¡°He lives above his shop?¡± Jacky asked.


    Olivia stopped a foot past the dividing wall. ¡°A lot of shopkeepers around here do. Either that, or they rent the apartment out.¡± She scanned the store with her eyes. ¡°The lights are on, but the shades are down.¡±


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Autumn said, ¡°Kirby had the lights put on a timer so he¡¯d stop forgetting about them.¡±


    Jacky crossed over to the opening and said to Olivia, ¡°Can you sense anything?¡±


    ¡°If Ansel is the chief of police, I¡¯d rather not use my magic if I can avoid it,¡± she said. ¡°Autumn?¡±


    ¡°Nothing so far, but he did go missing a week ago.¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s just¡­look around. For now.¡±


    The rest of us followed Olivia into the front of the shop.


    The building was long and narrow. The front wall, at the far end of the store, was made up mostly of windows. I could see the yellow sunlight trying to shine through the white shades, but it was swallowed up by the distance and the navy-blue paint of the woodwork, making the store feel like a cave.


    The side walls were lined with low rows of cabinets that ran from the front, all the way to the back. They were topped with butcher block counters, three tiers of tiny drawers and, above them, row after row of open shelves holding a variety of plants, bags, bottles, and large glass jars¡ªall arranged and spaced so that they looked full without feeling crowded.


    The center of the room was dominated by a long island cabinet, topped with white marble. On it were a collection of brass weights, old-fashioned scales, scoops, bowls, a mortar and pestle, and other tools I couldn¡¯t even recognize, all lined up in the center.


    Beside us, near the back of the store, was the checkout counter. It was as long as the dividing wall and the only thing on it was a sleek white register. Compared to the rest of the room, it looked bizarrely modern, as if it¡¯d been dropped off by a careless science-fiction character. I could imagine some poor aliens, already halfway across the galaxy, arguing over where they¡¯d seen it last.


    My feet took me out past the checkout counter while my eyes drifted over the shop. It was easy to picture what the store was like at other times¡ªthe shades open, sunlight glinting off the white marble, the butcher block counters glowing like honey¡ªand when I took a deep breath, I thought I could smell the fading warmth in the fragrance the plants were giving off.


    ¡°What kind of shop does Kirby run?¡±


    I felt stupid asking, but I¡¯d never seen a store like this one.


    ¡°He¡¯s an apothecary,¡± Olivia said.


    I reached the front door and pushed aside the shade enough to look out. There was one person on the sidewalk. They passed the store without a glance. I pushed the shade further aside to get a wider view, revealing the ¡°gone on vacation¡± sign that had caused so many problems.


    ¡°A real one?¡± Jacky asked.


    The street was clear. I let the shade settle into place and turned to the rest of the store.


    ¡°He isn¡¯t a classic apothecary,¡± Autumn said. ¡°He doesn¡¯t make drugs. He¡¯s more like¡­an herbalist. He specializes in plant and plant derivatives.¡±


    I walked back to them.


    Jacky said, ¡°Is he an alchemist?¡±


    ¡°Kirby¡¯s no magician.¡±


    Olivia stopped and laid her fingers on the center counter. ¡°Everything looks the same.¡±


    ¡°Well, it would,¡± Autumn said. ¡°He hates it when he has to rearrange something.¡±


    As Olivia gazed around the store, her eyes fell on a bright pink figure beside the register. ¡°That¡¯s new.¡±


    She went over and picked it up. Autumn stayed where she was, but Jacky and I gathered around Olivia.


    It was Kirby¡ªlike, Nintendo¡¯s Kirby. The bright pink ball of gluttonous joy was riding a star as if it was a bronco. One arm was raised high and there was a huge smile on his face.


    ¡°I gave that to him,¡± Autumn said.


    Autumn Langley¡¯s skin was too dark for me to see her blush, but she studied the old boards that made up the floor with the kind of attention I¡¯ve long associated with embarrassment.


    And I would know. I¡¯m an expert on the study of flooring¡ªfloorology, if you will.


    A smile stole over Olivia¡¯s face. ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°He said he¡¯d keep it there so people wouldn¡¯t forget his name.¡± Autumn held out her hand. ¡°We should probably be careful not to move anything.¡±


    Olivia handed me the figure to hand to Autumn.


    The moment the plastic hit my palm, haze poured into my vision. A translucent scene took shape, imposing itself over reality. My stomach rolled as the scenes vied for supremacy, and I had to grab onto the counter to steady myself. The murk cleared as one image grew solid enough to dominate my view.


    There was a man sitting behind the counter on a tall stool. He was lanky and had dark hair made up of loose, floppy curls that were long enough to be unruly. He wore a polo shirt and jeans. His eyes were closed and he was grinning. His fingers were resting on the Kirby figurine. Autumn was standing on the other side of the counter, talking to him.


    ¡°It¡¯s like the smell of roses and bubble gum,¡± she said, ¡°or the feeling of buzzing electricity. You know¡ªlike when you put your hand on one of those glowing glass lightning ball things.¡±


    ¡°And this is pink?¡± he said.


    ¡°Well!¡± Autumn cried. ¡°What am I supposed to say?¡±


    ¡°No, no! Don¡¯t be embarrassed! That was perfect.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re laughing at me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re laughing too!¡± His fingers brushed her arm before he took hold of it. ¡°Autumn, promise me you¡¯ll hang around. I want you to describe everything to me.¡±


    As if from a distance, I heard someone calling my name. It was Olivia. The scene blurred and faded, until all I could see was Olivia standing beside me.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± she demanded.


    I rubbed my eyes. Maybe I could clear a vision the same way I clear out eye boogers. ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡±


    Olivia gave me a skeptical look, then turned and walked further into the shop.


    I put the figurine down. Autumn¡¯s memories were none of my business. Not even ones as cute as that.


    Autumn reached out and moved the figurine closer to the register. When she saw me watching her, she said, ¡°Kirby¡¯s particular about where things are put.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s voice came from behind us. ¡°Very particular. Each item has a home, and if he¡¯s out of something, the spot stays empty.¡±


    We turned. She was halfway across the room, staring up at the shelves.


    She pointed to a line of large jars. ¡°Someone¡¯s messed up the spacing. We need to find that jar. It¡¯s one of the mints.¡±


    The hunt didn¡¯t take long. Jacky found it in the garbage can behind the check-out counter and called us over.


    Shattered, toothy pieces of the broken jar were sitting in the bottom of the can. Everything was dusted with dry green speckles. The smell of mint wafted up to my nostrils.


    ¡°Is this significant?¡± Jacky asked.


    ¡°There must have been a struggle,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°If Mr. Kirby had accidentally dropped it, wouldn¡¯t he have swept it up and thrown it away?¡±


    ¡°He would have¡ªbut he wouldn¡¯t have scooted the jars around to make the shelf look fuller. And he would never have done that.¡±


    Olivia pointed to a collection of dried flowers crushed by the largest chunk of broken jar. Tiny desiccated leaves clung to the brittle stems. The blooms were small knobs of yellow and ivory white.


    ¡°Chamomile,¡± Autumn said.


    ¡°Jacky,¡± I said, ¡°can you pull them out? Carefully?¡±


    He did as I asked. Half of the dried flowers dropped back into the garbage can as he lifted them.


    It was a bouquet. The bundle of stems was tied with string. There was a loop in the knot.


    I looked over my shoulder.


    Along the store shelves were occasional vertical supports. Each of the supports had a line of small hooks that held up similar bouquets of dried plants. One of the hooks next to the disarranged shelf was empty.


    ¡°It looks like it was torn down,¡± I said.


    ¡°The loop is intact,¡± Jacky noted.


    ¡°If it had fallen, Kirby would have put it back up,¡± Olivia insisted, ¡°and if it had been crushed, he would have put them aside so he could process what was left of them.¡±


    ¡°Process them how?¡±


    ¡°He sells parts of the dried plants,¡± Autumn said. ¡°Especially chamomile. The blooms are used to make tea. Only witches buy the entire plant.¡±


    Jacky returned the broken herbs to the garbage can. ¡°Olivia, do you know your friend well?¡±


    Olivia flushed and scowled¡ªbut she also said ¡°yes¡± in a nice, loud voice.


    I broke away from the group and walked over to the misaligned shelf while Jacky went on.


    ¡°I agree that the evidence could point to something being wrong, but I¡¯m troubled by how little evidence there is, and even you must admit, humans do occasionally act outside their habits.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    I never got to hear the rest of Olivia¡¯s retort. At that moment, I reached up and put my hand on the shelf.


    This vision didn¡¯t pour in slowly; it slammed into my head, changing everything from light to darkness in an instant. The black was fathomless and formless. The empty world was filled with nothing but noise and terror. There was panic. Grunting. Shuffles. Pain.


    Someone had my neck¡ª


    No, my wrist.


    The hand on my wrist tightened and jerked me away.


    When my hand left the wood, the darkness cleared. Under the lights of the shop, I could see Autumn watching me, her eyes wide.


    ¡°Honey,¡± she said, her voice all drawl, ¡°are you okay?¡±


    I took a breath and nodded. I wasn¡¯t sure if I could speak. I could still feel the weight of the bent arm pressing into the sides of my neck.


    Autumn released my wrist. I lowered my trembling hand.


    Jacky and Olivia had stopped, mid-argument, to watch me. I looked away so I wouldn¡¯t have to see Olivia¡¯s expression.


    I should have been grateful. If Olivia Oliversen was experiencing an emotion directed at me that wasn¡¯t contempt, it was time to break out the confetti. But her concern made me feel awkward. If the whole human race was a collection of figurines, I¡¯d been taken out of the case and put in front of everyone to be stared at.


    ¡°Emerra?¡± Jacky said.


    I hesitated, then forced myself to reach out and touch one of the large glass jars. No vision this time. The label on the front of the jar was done in black vinyl with old fashioned, ornate white lettering. Under the label was a clear sticker, visible only because of the shine and the texture created by the small raised dots.


    ¡°Kirby¡¯s blind, isn¡¯t he?¡± I said.


    Autumn glanced toward Olivia, before saying, ¡°I thought you knew.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my fault,¡± Olivia said. ¡°I forgot to mention it.¡±


    ¡°No, I get it,¡± Autumn assured her. ¡°After a while, you start to think everyone knows Nolan Kirby.¡±


    Darkness and terror. That must have been something from Kirby.


    Darn shame it hadn¡¯t been given to me from a third-person perspective. That would¡¯ve been helpful. Not that I should expect my stupid powers to be convenient or anything.


    ¡°How long has he been blind?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Since birth,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°Does it matter?¡± Autumn asked.


    I tapped my finger across the line of jars, bouncing from one to the next. Tap. Tap. Tap. ¡°Not really. I just happened to notice that all the labels on the jars are printed. And there are no notes or post-it notes around the register.¡±


    ¡°Kirby remembers all that stuff,¡± Autumn explained. ¡°He says it¡¯s easier than using a slate and stylus.¡±


    Olivia added, ¡°If he doesn¡¯t trust himself to remember something, he uses a voice recorder.¡±


    ¡°No handwritten notes?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think Kirby¡¯s written a single thing in his entire life.¡±


    I smiled when I heard the off-handed cocksureness in Olivia¡¯s voice. The familiarity made it almost comforting.


    ¡°So you wouldn¡¯t be able to tell me if the handwriting on that vacation notice is his?¡± I asked.


    Olivia and Autumn froze. Then there was a jerk of movement as they simultaneously went to the front door. Olivia raised the blind without a thought for who might be out there to see them.


    There was enough light outside, we could read the letters backwards through the paper. They were carefully written by a practiced hand.


    Olivia reached for the paper, but Jacky yelled her name. When she looked back at him, he was standing with his weight balanced on his forward foot, and his skeletal hand extended.


    ¡°I advise you not to touch it,¡± he said. ¡°It would be reasonable to find a hundred different fingerprints in a store. But probably not on that.¡±


    ¡°You do think he¡¯s been kidnapped!¡± Olivia made it sound like an accusation.


    ¡°I think the evidence is tending that way.¡±


    Autumn and Olivia looked back at the note.


    ¡°How did I miss that?¡± Autumn asked. She scanned the paper, as if maybe the answer to her question might be written in invisible ink.


    ¡°As blind as a witch,¡± Olivia muttered. She frowned, grabbed the shade, and pulled it back down.

 Chapter 10 - The Chief

    Since Autumn had already talked to the police, we decided to find out anything we could from them¡ªor her, rather. Ansel was the one and only police officer for the whole town of Craftborough. Olivia wasn¡¯t sure if ¡°chief¡± was her real title or a joke.


    ¡°If it is a joke,¡± she said, ¡°it¡¯s not meant to make fun of her. Everyone called Spearing ¡®chief¡¯ too.¡±


    ¡°Hey, Olivia,¡± I said, ¡°why does this place have a police officer?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t they rely on the sheriff¡¯s department, like Quicholt?¡±


    Quicholt was our hometown¡ªif you could call it that. The most accurate way to describe it would be ¡°the town closest to the Noctis mansion.¡± And I said that we ¡°rely on the sheriff¡± but the place was so small, what we mostly got was one of his deputies.


    ¡°The sheriff is a county-wide elected position,¡± Olivia said. ¡°The coven can¡¯t guarantee the person who wins will be a witch.¡±


    ¡°Does the police officer have to be a witch?¡±


    ¡°In this town? Yes.¡±


    We asked if Autumn wanted to come along, but she excused herself. When Olivia asked her why, she forced a smile and said, ¡°I think that the chief has seen enough of me recently.¡±


    As we drove to the police station, I told Olivia and Big Jacky about my vision.


    Olivia was leaning forward from the backseat so she could hear me. Her hands were clutching the top edges of Jacky¡¯s and my seat, and when I told them about the arm choking off my airway, her hands tightened until her knuckles went white.


    ¡°Now we know for sure something happened to him,¡± she said.


    Jacky tapped his finger bone on the steering wheel, then said, ¡°While I agree that the evidence demands action, I have to correct you, Olivia. We don¡¯t know anything.¡±


    ¡°How can you possibly say that?¡±


    ¡°Because visions are limited¡ªand that one is more limited than most. They only show fragments of a scene, usually without the vital context. You must be careful not to assume more than it represents.¡±


    ¡°Should we tell Ansel about it?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s already been notified that there¡¯s a potential problem. Telling her about the vision would make no difference.¡±


    Olivia slammed back into her seat, crossed her arms, and glared out the car window.


    Of course, Big Jacky was right. The Torr had a lot of laws and standards around how a seer¡¯s powers were allowed to be used in their courts, and I was familiar with most of them, thanks to my involvement in the Frost-Aubert case. A vision or dream could be used to help find evidence, but it could never be used as direct evidence that a crime had been committed, and Darius Vasil had always cautioned me about being too open about what my powers were. I wasn¡¯t supposed to talk about them if it wouldn¡¯t do any good.


    ¡°Your privacy is a form of protection.¡±


    I always thought that line sounded slightly paranoid, but I knew two things: the vampire cared about me, and he knew the world we lived in a lot better than I did. I trusted him, so I¡¯d keep my mouth shut, no matter how frustrated and useless it made me feel.


    A dismal silence filled the car.


    When it had mellowed to the point I thought I could break it without incurring Olivia¡¯s wrath, I said, ¡°Hey, Olivia, do you know Officer Ansel?¡±


    She was still staring out the window when she answered. ¡°Yes.¡±


    A slow smile spread over my face, despite my good intentions. Olivia didn''t seem to mind the question, but I was pretty sure she''d get mad if she thought I was laughing at her.


    ¡°Huh,¡± I said, trying to sound casual. ¡°I never figured you for a delinquent.¡±


    Olivia looked at me. ¡°What the hell are you going on about?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve been told that you were a cute little thing¡ª¡±


    ¡°Who told you that?¡±


    I didn¡¯t want to get Autumn in trouble, so I conveniently failed to hear the question. ¡°Why would a cute little thing like you know the police? No! Wait! Let me guess.¡± I put a finger on my lips for a moment, then moved them to say, ¡°It can¡¯t be ferret smuggling. That one¡¯s taken.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I know!¡± I turned around to point at her. ¡°You stole a book from the library!¡±


    She rolled her eyes so far back that it moved her head.


    Maybe not.


    ¡°It can¡¯t be truancy,¡± I mused. ¡°You graduated at the top of your class. Was your heavy-metal band too loud during practice?¡±


    ¡°Tarah Ansel knows my mother,¡± Olivia said.


    My mouth clamped shut. Yeah, that would explain it.


    I leaned back in my seat. ¡°Olivia, is your mom the mayor or something?¡±


    ¡°Why would someone like my mother bother with such a lowly position?¡±


    Further down the street, the small buildings around us were interrupted by an open space. In the spring, it might have been a green space, with lovely walks and trees full of welcoming shade, but since it was only February, it felt more like a dramatic pause meant to mark the difference between the larger, more eminent buildings and the rest of the town.


    The building where Olivia had given her report that morning was the Town Hall, and it deserved the capital letters. It was the oldest public building in an ancient town. As the town grew, other official buildings had sprung up around it, but no matter what era the new buildings were erected in, the town went out of its way to find architects and builders that could copy the look of ye-olden times. The only way to guess their relative ages was by examining how sharp the corners of the bricks were or if the windows were made with real wood or faux wood.


    I had to admire such devotion to an aesthetic.


    As we drove by the largest of the buildings¡ªa five-story edifice that had to be new enough to enjoy air-conditioning¡ªI said, ¡°What building is that?¡±


    Olivia started to say, ¡°That¡¯s¡ª¡± but stopped herself. She started again: ¡°It¡¯s technically the town center, but everyone calls it coven headquarters.¡±


    It¡¯s possible my recent mention of the position brought the fact to Olivia¡¯s mind; she added, ¡°The mayor has an office there.¡±


    ¡°Is it the biggest office?¡±


    ¡°Guess.¡±


    We pulled in behind the town center. The police station was a tiny place¡ªonly one story tall and maybe a few rooms long. It hunkered in shame behind the statelier buildings around it. The entrance was off its back parking lot. When we pulled in, the only other car parked there was the patrol car.


    Big Jacky led me and Olivia to the door and held it open, allowing us to go through first. The door closed behind us, trapping us in a tiny, barren entryway. There was another door at the far end, and a glass-covered opening in the wall to our left that gave us a modest view of the police station beyond it. Most of the view was dominated by a cluttered desk. There was a small arched hole at the bottom of the glass in case we wanted to talk to the person on the other side. A silver call bell was perched on the ledge by the hole.


    Olivia slapped the call bell.


    Ding!


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    ¡°Coming!¡± a distant voice called.


    Officer Ansel walked around the cluttered desk and into view.


    She was average height with a solid build. The muscle definition on her arms made me think that being thin wasn¡¯t on her priority list. She wore a standard policeman¡¯s uniform, and her long blond hair was pulled away from her blocky face, making her look blunt and straightforward, but before she¡¯d stepped into view, she¡¯d tried to arrange her expression into something friendly.


    That lasted right up until her eyes fell on Olivia.


    Her smile vanished. She took one last step toward us and crossed her arms.


    ¡°Miss Oliversen,¡± she said. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were back in town.¡±


    ¡°Good afternoon, Ansel,¡± Olivia said. ¡°Congratulations on your promotion.¡±


    The world¡¯s greatest surgeon, equipped with the world¡¯s finest scalpel, wouldn¡¯t have been able to shave off a nanogram of emotion from that exchange.


    ¡°If your mother sent you,¡± Ansel said, ¡°please tell her that I¡¯ve already made arrangements for the extra security.¡±


    Oh! There was some emotion. That one was ¡°irritation.¡±


    ¡°My mother didn¡¯t send me,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°Then why are you here?¡±


    ¡°I want to ask about Nolan Kirby.¡±


    The chief¡¯s shoulders slumped at an angle. One hand went to her hip while the other hand went to her forehead. She rubbed her brow with the side of her index finger and said to the floor, ¡°So Langley sent you.¡±


    Beside me, I felt Olivia bristle. It was like she was covered in invisible hedgehogs.


    ¡°No one sent me,¡± she said. ¡°I came here on my own.¡±


    ¡°And why would an Oliversen care about someone like Nolan Kirby?¡±


    The hedgehogs turned into porcupines.


    ¡°I care.¡± Olivia glared at Ansel. ¡°Do you?¡±


    Ansel stiffened, locking her shoulders and freezing the frown to her face. Even her eyes looked like stones. She broke the pose by leaning over the desk, reaching for something we couldn¡¯t see.


    ¡°Go stand by the door,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll buzz you through.¡±


    While I was crowded up against Olivia, I muttered under my breath. ¡°Not exactly your friendly neighborhood officer, is she?¡±


    Olivia made a face and did a quick head shake. ¡°She¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°What!¡± I said, completely forgetting to whisper.


    We heard the door unlock. Olivia opened it and repeated, ¡°She¡¯s fine. Leave her to me.¡±


    We went inside. I thought the chief was coming around the corner to meet us, but she was actually making a beeline for the mug of coffee sitting on the desk beside us. Except for the coffee mug, the desk was empty.


    The chief took a long swig before turning to us. ¡°All right, Miss Oliversen, I don¡¯t have a lot of time, but I¡¯ll give you what I can.¡± We followed her to an office at the back of the room. Her name, in vinyl, was on the pebbled glass of the door. ¡°You want to know about Kirby, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Ansel opened the door and held it wide so we could all pass through. Her office was small, but there was enough room for her desk, a bookshelf, and two other chairs. Olivia and I claimed the extra chairs. Jacky stood behind us.


    Ansel crossed over to the chair behind her desk and sat down. ¡°If you¡¯re hoping I can tell you where Kirby is, I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Have you been looking for him?¡± Olivia asked.


    I could only tell Ansel had frowned because of how the lines around her mouth deepened. Her lips had barely moved. She watched Olivia for a few seconds before answering.


    ¡°I¡¯ve done as much as I can, considering the circumstances.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± Olivia asked.


    ¡°That means I¡¯m a busy woman and the situation makes things difficult.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    The chief took a long breath in. It appeared to be one of the ¡°calming¡± kinds. Then she said, ¡°How much do you know about police procedures regarding missing persons, Miss Oliversen?¡±


    Olivia hesitated, then admitted, ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°You have to understand, it isn¡¯t illegal for an adult to leave without telling someone where they¡¯re going. Kirby left a note¡ª¡±


    ¡°A note? You mean the handwritten one up on his shop door?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Kirby¡¯s been blind since birth. How did he write it?¡±


    There was a tiny hitch in Ansel¡¯s movements. It was gone almost the moment it appeared. She shrugged. ¡°He could¡¯ve had one of his customer¡¯s write it before they left.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s face filled with scorn. ¡°Does that seem likely to you?¡±


    ¡°It seems more likely to me than the idea that someone would hurt Kirby or steal him away. There¡¯s nothing in Kirby¡¯s background to suggest that he¡¯d be in any kind of trouble.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve checked his background?¡± Jacky asked.


    Ansel blinked and looked at Big Jacky as if it was the first time she¡¯d seen him.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, ¡°who are you?¡±


    Olivia answered. ¡°This is my master, Jack Noctis.¡±


    ¡°How do you do,¡± Jacky said.


    The officer nodded to him, then turned her eyes to me. ¡°And her?¡±


    ¡°This is Emerra,¡± Olivia said. ¡°She came to hear my report.¡±


    Ansel looked back up at Jacky. ¡°Yes, I looked into his background. I talked to his neighbors and his landlord. I managed to contact his family, and that took some doing. Kirby is a more common name than you might think. I should mention that when I told them what was happening, they weren¡¯t unduly concerned. Despite his blindness, Kirby¡¯s an independent man. They said it was normal for them to only learn he¡¯d gone on a vacation after he came home and told them about it.¡±


    Olivia scowled.


    Ansel went on, ¡°Given all that, Kirby was filed as a missing person, not-at-risk adult. I¡¯ve informed the sheriff¡¯s department and the state police to be on the lookout for him.¡±


    ¡°Does Kirby have a cell phone?¡± I asked.


    Ansel turned her attention to me.


    I squirmed under her gaze. ¡°I¡¯m curious if he¡¯s been answering his phone. People on vacation do that, don¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± Ansel took another swig of coffee. ¡°But on the off-chance that Kirby is the kind of man to do that, I¡¯ve left two messages for him.¡±


    Jacky said in a soft, musing voice, ¡°Kirby has a landlord.¡±


    The chief¡¯s brows pulled together. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s renting both the shop¡­and the apartment above it?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Did the landlord let you in, by any chance?¡± When Ansel didn¡¯t answer, Jacky said, ¡°I understand that a landlord normally has the right to do that.¡±


    The chief put her mug down and sat forward in her chair. ¡°She does, and this time, she did. Before you ask, the place was clean, and there were no obvious signs of any struggle.¡±


    ¡°I understand from Olivia that Autumn reported Kirby missing last Thursday. Did you get in that day?¡±


    ¡°I did.¡±


    ¡°Did you sense any magic?¡±


    Ansel¡¯s mouth clamped shut hard enough I saw the muscles in her neck stand out.


    Jacky waved a hand. ¡°Forgive me¡ªthat was abrupt. I understood from Olivia that you were a witch. To be a police officer in Craftborough, I would assume that you have to be a good one.¡±


    After a second, Ansel said, ¡°I¡¯m no Ellis Oliversen, but I¡¯m decent. There was no magic at the scene¡ªnot even trace magic¡ªand there was no sign of a break in. Given that, and the fact that some of his personal effects were missing, it seemed reasonable to assume that he left under his own volition.¡±


    Olivia bounced to the front of her chair. ¡°What kind of personal effects are we talking about?¡±


    ¡°His toothbrush was the main one I noticed. Also his cell phone, his charging cord, and presumably some clothes, but since neither Mrs. Gilbert nor I had ever counted his underwear, we couldn¡¯t be sure on that one. We aren¡¯t talking about anything important, Miss Oliversen. It was the kind of things a man would take if he went on a trip.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s it then?¡± Olivia¡¯s face couldn¡¯t have been more twisted if she¡¯d eaten a whole lemon. ¡°You¡¯ve decided that he¡¯s gone on a trip¡ªcase closed?¡±


    The edge of Ansel¡¯s lips ticked down. ¡°The case isn¡¯t closed until someone can confirm that Nolan Kirby is found. If he shows up tomorrow with some souvenirs and a good story about how warm Miami is in February, I¡¯ll have to make a lot of calls and notify the right networks. In the meantime, we have every law enforcement officer in this county keeping their eyes out for him. I¡¯m not sure what more you expect us to do.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you canvass the neighborhood or something?¡±


    A sarcastic smile appeared on Ansel¡¯s face. ¡°Ah, TV policing at its finest. I wish I had their budget. No, Miss Oliversen, we don¡¯t¡ªnot for a capable adult when we don¡¯t have any evidence of wrongdoing. As time goes on, the case will become more urgent, but I already have too much to do, considering the celebration starts in two days. That being said¡­¡±


    She stood up, in case we¡¯d missed the invitation to leave.


    Before we could take the hint, Jacky said, ¡°Do you mind if we look into the disappearance?¡±


    Ansel shrugged. ¡°I can¡¯t stop you from asking questions.¡±


    As we rose from our chairs, Olivia said, ¡°Will you tell us if you learn anything?¡±


    ¡°That depends on what I learn,¡± Ansel said. ¡°If you want to give me your phone number, I can pass it along to Kirby if I hear from him. I¡¯ll let him know that you¡¯re worried.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do that.¡±


    Ansel pulled a notebook and pen out of her pocket and copied down Olivia¡¯s number, then politely but firmly escorted us out of the building. After the sound of the door closing behind us, there was nothing. Everything was quiet. A cold wind blew through the nearly empty parking lot. I half expected a tumble weed to make an appearance for dramatic emphasis, but maybe it was too cold for tumbleweeds.


    ¡°Fat lot of good that was,¡± Olivia grumbled.


    Noctis hummed his agreement. I figured there was a fifty-percent chance he hadn¡¯t caught on that it was sarcasm.


    ¡°And that¡¯s the person you said was fine?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Do you have a problem with her?¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°Me? No. But then again, I¡¯m not the one that as good as accused her of doing nothing. The mixed messages are confusing me.¡±


    ¡°I like Ansel as a person, but it doesn¡¯t sound like she¡¯s taking this seriously.¡±


    Jacky said, ¡°Was that your impression?¡±


    Noctis headed toward the car. We followed.


    He said over his shoulder, ¡°She took the report, informed all the correct channels, went to investigate the scene, took time to check for relevant details, talked to his neighbors, looked up his background to see if there was anything suspicious¡ªand the way she talked made it sound as if she had to hunt down his family without having their contact information. You may not consider it serious, but it certainly isn¡¯t funny.¡±


    ¡°Olivia meant a different kind of serious,¡± I explained. ¡°Not the not-funny kind of serious.¡±


    Big Jacky stopped and looked at me. ¡°What other kind of serious is there?¡±


    I had to think about that.


    Jacky unlocked the doors, and we all piled in. Olivia claimed the front this time.


    ¡°Ansel has put in due effort,¡± Jacky said. ¡°It isn¡¯t her fault there was nothing for her to find.¡±


    ¡°We should have told her about Emerra¡¯s vision,¡± Olivia said. ¡°She doesn¡¯t think there¡¯s anything wrong!¡±


    Jacky started the car. ¡°You¡¯re forgetting the ¡®obvious.¡¯¡±


    ¡°What obvious?¡±


    ¡°She said there were no ¡®obvious¡¯ signs of a struggle. Perhaps I¡¯m reading too much into it, but it sounded to me like she wasn¡¯t convinced either way.¡±


    ¡°Then what can we do to convince her?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to ask around and see if there¡¯s anything she missed.¡±


    ¡°You think we could find something the police couldn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°I think that by showing up, we¡¯ve quadrupled the number of people actively working on the case.¡±


    As Jacky pulled out of the parking lot, I heard a quiet woof coming from my pocket. Conrad was texting me.


    His notification sound used to be a howl, but then he¡¯d sent me a link while we were in the same room, and when he heard it, he made me change it.


    I pulled out my phone.


    Igor wants to know if you¡¯re going to be home in time for dinner.


    I sighed as I typed: Fraid not. It looks like we¡¯re going to be here for a few days.


    K.


    ¡°K,¡± he says. Hardly.

 Chapter 11 - No Bats

    It was less than a five-minute drive from the town center to Olivia¡¯s house¡ªor, rather, her mom¡¯s house, since Olivia disavowed all rights of ownership. She wouldn¡¯t even call it a house. It was ¡°the place we have to stay.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s distaste was so profound, a twisted image of the house wormed its way into my imagination. I thought, for sure, it¡¯d be a drooping mansion, full of shadows too deep for the objects that cast them, creaking stairs, rotting weeds in the garden, water-stained walls¡ªand maybe there¡¯d be a few bats.


    So I was surprised when we pulled into the front drive of a nice-looking red brick house. It had cheerful white trim around its many windows and stylish navy-blue shutters that matched the door. The door had a winter wreath and a bright brass mail slot. The build-up of snow prevented me from seeing the garden, but the bushes that lined the drive were trimmed and covered in burlap to protect them from the wind. All the walks had been carefully shoveled.


    The shadows were normal for a February afternoon. No bats.


    We were still getting out of the car when the front door opened and a man and woman stepped out.


    The man looked like he was in his early sixties. There were weathered laugh lines etched into his expressive face. He had bold blue eyes, receding white hair that was neatly combed, and a well-kept white mustache. He wore slacks, loafers, and I could see a folded collar peeking out from his tasteful sweater. His grin was broad and bright.


    The woman behind him didn¡¯t look nearly so excited to see us. Her mouth was set in the deadest neutral expression I¡¯d ever seen, and her eyes were slightly narrowed. She was in her early twenties, and she had dark brown hair with a hint of red that you could see when she was standing in sunlight. She wore a fancy pair of slacks, high-heeled boots, and either she was exactly the right shape for her fashionable top, or she went to a tailor.


    My jeans and sweatshirt ensemble was starting to look pretty shabby.


    Come to think of it, even though Olivia wore skirts and dresses, most of them were casual, and she had a lot of jersey tops. That made her the rebellious goth-punk of the family.


    And she still dressed nicer than I did.


    I tried not to think about it.


    The man walked up to Jacky with his hand extended.


    ¡°Mr. Noctis! I¡¯m so glad to meet you at last. Thank you a thousand times for looking after my daughter.¡±


    Olivia and I walked around the car to get closer to the conversation.


    As he and Jacky shook hands, the man said, ¡°I¡¯m Rall Axton, the token male. They don¡¯t really need me around here to further the plot, but in this day and age, you have to have that diversity, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Olivia rolled her eyes.


    Mr. Axton reached his hand out to me next. ¡°And who might you be?¡±


    ¡°Emerra Cole,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re Rall¡­Axton?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know what you¡¯re thinking. But the Axtons are just old enough and respectable enough I was allowed to keep my last name when I married Ellis.¡± He leaned in and raised his thin white eyebrows. ¡°Either that, or the Oliversens didn¡¯t want me.¡± He winked.


    I smiled. The token male did well in his role of comic relief.


    Axton¡¯s grin shifted to Olivia. He''d already been glowing with joy, but when he looked at his daughter, his face achieved a whole new level of radiance. I should have brought sunglasses.


    ¡°And there you are, my beautiful little girl. A year taller and more womanly than ever.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m the same height, Daddy.¡±


    ¡°Then it must be all those brains you¡¯ve been developing. They make you look taller. If you¡¯re not careful, all that extra gray matter will burst right out of your skull.¡±


    Olivia rolled her eyes. Again. I was beginning to understand how she¡¯d developed the habit.


    ¡°Would it humiliate you to death to give your old man a hug?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll weep over your grave.¡± He put an arm around her and squeezed. She grudgingly squeezed him back.


    Axton turned and motioned for the woman to come over. She stepped forward.


    He said, ¡°This is one of my other beautiful not-so-little girls, Nylah.¡±


    She shook hands with Jacky first. ¡°Nylah Lauren Sofie Emma Tara Grace Oliversen.¡±


    ¡°Jack Noctis, but most people call me Big Jacky.¡±


    She shook hands with me.


    ¡°Emerra Cole,¡± I repeated.


    Nylah Oliversen¡¯s eyes moved down and back up as she looked at me. It was hard to tell from her quiet ¡°huh¡± if I¡¯d passed her inspection. She tucked her hand back into her folded arms. They were pulled tight to her body to keep her warm.


    ¡°Blast, it¡¯s cold out here,¡± Axton observed. ¡°Is there a lot of luggage?¡±


    ¡°Only two large pieces and a few bags,¡± Jacky said.


    ¡°Is that all? Then I¡¯ll help get them up to your rooms. Nylah, why don¡¯t you take Olivia and Emerra in where it¡¯s warm and see about some hot drinks.¡±


    Nylah nodded, then turned and walked back into the house.


    ¡°Dad¡ª¡± Olivia started to say.


    ¡°You have to let me at least pretend to be a gentleman, Olivia.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to say I¡¯m old, are you? I¡¯ll have you know, I have a daughter who¡¯s only an apprentice. And I¡¯ve been working out.¡±


    Olivia glared at him.


    ¡°If you want, I could take off my shirt and flex to prove it.¡±


    ¡°Oh my god! You win!¡± Olivia turned and stomped off toward the house.


    I ran a few steps to catch up to her.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I muttered, trying to keep it quiet enough that Nylah, who was waiting for us at the door, wouldn¡¯t hear me, ¡°do the men around here usually take the names of their wives?¡±


    A small grimace appeared on Olivia¡¯s face. ¡°Yes, but you¡¯re asking the wrong question. It¡¯s traditional to keep the name of the family with the most powerful bloodline. Most of the Axtons are about the same level as the Oliversens.¡±


    I noticed her conscientious use of the word ¡°most.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s about power?¡± I said.


    ¡°Welcome to Craftborough,¡± Olivia bared her teeth in a forced smile, ¡°where it¡¯s always about power.¡±


    Once we were inside, we stopped to take off our wet shoes, and Olivia swept off her witch¡¯s hat.


    ¡°Oh, you do take it off indoors,¡± Nylah noted. ¡°I wondered about that.¡±


    Her tone was a little too innocent for my comfort. I made sure to focus all my attention on untying my laces.


    ¡°Of course I do,¡± Olivia replied, her voice a bastion of perfect calm, ¡°it¡¯s rude to wear it inside a house.¡±


    ¡°And here you are, giving up a chance to annoy Mother. My, you have matured.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t wear it only to annoy Mother.¡±


    Nylah scoffed.


    ¡°It annoys you too,¡± Olivia said.


    I put my boots on the boot tray near the door and took my time making sure they were lined up. It wasn¡¯t required¡ªOlivia¡¯s boots were haphazardly laying on their sides¡ªbut it kept me from having to stand up in the middle of the family drama.


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    ¡°What kind of hot drink do you like, Miss Cole?¡± Nylah asked.


    I couldn¡¯t put it off any longer. Like a soldier peeking out of a fox-hole, I rose. ¡°Do you have cocoa?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Olivia?¡±


    ¡°Mint tea please.¡±


    Nylah said, ¡°Janice is working on dinner. I¡¯ll take care of the drinks. You can wait in the sitting room.¡±


    With every step Nylah took away from us, Olivia¡¯s shoulders eased down by another quarter inch.


    ¡°Is Janice another sister?¡± I asked.


    Olivia motioned for me to follow her down the hall. ¡°Janice prefers to be called a housekeeper, but she makes all our dinners too. Lindsey doesn¡¯t live here anymore.¡±


    ¡°Lindsey?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s Nylah¡¯s older sister. My half-sister.¡±


    There was some hasty mental erasing and scribbling as I tried to draw out the Oliversen family tree. ¡°Is Nylah a half-sister?¡±


    Olivia sighed with annoyance, as if nothing in the world could be more tedious than describing her family.


    ¡°My mother married Samuel Oakwell when she was young. They had Lindsey and Nylah. He died, she married my father, and they had me.¡±


    ¡°See,¡± I nudged her with my elbow, ¡°that wasn¡¯t so hard.¡±


    Olivia gave me a look.


    When we stepped into the sitting room, I could tell that every furnishing, decoration, and paint color had been selected by Mrs. Oliversen. Every color had a gray undertone¡ªwhich created a classic, muted look¡ªand the whites were closer to cream. Every piece of furniture shared the same ornate style. Everywhere I looked, the details complimented the decor. When everyone was in bed at night, I wouldn''t have been surprised if some of the livelier ornaments turned to each other and talked about how well they all looked and how wonderful it was that they worked so nicely together.


    The whole house had that aura. It was as if Mrs. Oliversen¡¯s natural taste in interior design had unwittingly created an environment that was perfect for her.


    Against it, Olivia¡¯s all-black ensemble stood out like a screaming raven at a dove conference.


    I sat down on the couch. Olivia stayed standing.


    ¡°Does that make you the beloved baby of the family?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No.¡±


    I grinned. ¡°Aren¡¯t you Daddy¡¯s beautiful little girl?¡±


    ¡°You might have noticed, my father¡¯s main hobby is trying to embarrass me in public.¡±


    ¡°And he¡¯s very good at it. Your sister¡­¡±


    Olivia''s shoulders rose as they tightened. The corners of her mouth pulled back into a straight frown. ¡°What about her?¡±


    ¡°She had the same middle names as you.¡±


    She relaxed. ¡°About a hundred and fifty years ago some witch thought it¡¯d be really clever to name her daughters after the line of witches in their family, and now it¡¯s tradition. Grace was the first. Then Tara. Then Emma.¡± Olivia waved her hand around to demonstrate and-so-on.


    I mentally checked my way through Olivia¡¯s crowd of names. ¡°There¡¯s no Ellis in that lineup.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you wouldn¡¯t name your baby after yourself¡±¡ª(more sarcasm)¡ª¡°That would be boastful and uncouth.¡±


    I braced my elbow on the arm of the couch, rested my cheek on my knuckles, and gazed at her. Could black eyes glint? If they could, mine were probably glinting.


    ¡°What?¡± she said.


    I¡¯d been thinking about the first time I¡¯d met Olivia and how proud she¡¯d looked as she recited every one of those names. How could she have that much scorn for the tradition, yet be so fond of her names?


    But maybe that wasn¡¯t it. Maybe Olivia disliked how two-faced it was to do something as conceited as that but stop short out of modesty.


    ¡°Oh, nothing.¡± I moved my hand from my face. ¡°Are you going to tell your family why you¡¯re here?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t tell my family anything if I can avoid it.¡±


    An old wound reached its long fingers around my heart and squeezed.


    ¡°Your father loves you,¡± I said. ¡°His face lit up when he looked at you.¡±


    Olivia frowned. ¡°Daddy is sweet, but he wouldn¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t understand what?¡±


    ¡°Anything. Me. Or¡­¡± She waved her hand as she struggled to think of another example. ¡°¡­anything.¡±


    I tried to keep a straight face, but some of my incredulity might have leaked through.


    When she saw my expression, she said in a rushed whisper, ¡°Look, he¡¯s nice, but he¡¯s nothing but my mother¡¯s doormat. I don¡¯t tell him things.¡±


    I lowered my eyes and faintly shook my head.


    ¡°It¡¯s family dynamics, okay!¡± Olivia said. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t argue with that,¡± I grumbled.


    ¡°Just don¡¯t take their bait. Don¡¯t do anything to stand out, don¡¯t challenge them, and, please, don¡¯t say anything weird.¡±


    ¡°Weird how?¡±


    ¡°You know¡ªweird.¡±


    Dang. That was quite the set of rules. And that last one wasn¡¯t going to be easy to obey. I¡¯d never been good at keeping my mouth shut.


    ¡°Do you have any super glue?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then I make no promises.¡±


    ¡°See? That. That kind of stuff is weird. Pretend you¡¯re a snobby rich girl trying to get into an elite country club and you¡¯ll do fine.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but darling, without the super glue, I¡¯m simply helpless, don¡¯t you know.¡±


    She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.


    I bit back a smile.


    It wasn¡¯t that I tried to embarrass Olivia, but there was some small imp that lived in my soul, and it cackled every time I did. I thought about setting up a competition between me and Mr. Axton to see if either of us could actually make Olivia explode from humiliation¡ªbut that would break the rule about not challenging them.


    We heard Axton¡¯s voice carrying through the hall, getting louder as he came toward us. Olivia turned to face the doorway.


    As Axton and Jacky came into the room, Axton called out to his daughter, ¡°I¡¯ve been quizzing your master, but he says he doesn¡¯t know how long we get to keep you for! If it¡¯s undecided, can I put in a vote that we keep you forever?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯ll work for Mr. Noctis,¡± Olivia said with what I thought was an unusual amount of diplomacy for her.


    Rall snapped his fingers and arranged his face in an expression of disappointment. ¡°Then at least until Tuesday, surely? Your mother worked very hard on this year¡¯s festival.¡±


    Nylah came into the room carrying a tray loaded with cups, a tea pot, and some cookies. ¡°Please, Father. It¡¯s not like Olivia¡¯s ever cared about that.¡±


    ¡°That¡±¡ªthe celebration, or ¡°that¡±¡ªhow hard her mother worked, remained unspecified, and I was pretty sure it had been done on purpose.


    Olivia knew the rules; she didn¡¯t take the bait. She accepted the tea from her sister in stony silence.


    Nylah passed her step-father a mug. He sat down after snatching one of the cookies.


    ¡°I thought you were trying to be healthy,¡± Nylah said.


    ¡°I am.¡± Axton raised his mug to her. ¡°That¡¯s why you made me decaf.¡±


    ¡°Since when do you drink decaffeinated coffee?¡± Olivia asked.


    Axton swallowed a bit of cookie before he answered. ¡°It¡¯s all a part of your mother¡¯s plot to keep me alive forever.¡±


    Noctis refused any drinks or refreshment and went to stand by Olivia.


    Nylah picked up one of the mugs and passed it to me. ¡°Do you mind if I ask what your powers are, Miss Cole? You¡¯re not a witch, are you?¡±


    The question hung in the air for a moment, then faded, leaving only a vague sense that a trap had been set. When I glanced toward Olivia, our eyes briefly met over the rim of her mug, and when my gaze passed over Rall Axton, I saw a slight down-turn at the edges of his mouth.


    Something was definitely up, but it seemed rude to ignore a direct question.


    ¡°You can call me Emerra.¡± I gave her what I hoped was a winning smile. ¡°I don¡¯t mind. And no, I¡¯m not a witch. I don¡¯t have any powers.¡±


    Jacky¡¯s jawbone moved, but Olivia elbowed him, and he shut his mouth.


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Nylah put the tray down on the coffee table and sat across from me. ¡°Well, it¡¯s always interesting to meet one of your friends, Olivia.¡±


    There was something about her tone that bothered me¡ªa hint of the same high, syrupy sound that she¡¯d used when she mocked Olivia as we took off our boots. Anyone who was less socially defensive probably would¡¯ve missed it, but my ears were always on alert for tones.


    It was a darn shame my brain didn¡¯t always know what to do with them. It rifled through option after option, trying to find one that might explain her comment. Something occurred to me¡­


    My thoughts dribbled away, leaving my head empty of everything but my shock.


    No.


    She wouldn¡¯t.


    No one in their right mind would judge Olivia because she was friends with someone who had no power.


    Would they?


    But this was Craftborough, where it was always about power.


    I was surprised no one heard the glass break when I took all of Olivia¡¯s rules and threw them out the window.


    ¡°Welp!¡± I cried. ¡°You caught me! We¡¯re not friends. Olivia didn¡¯t even want to invite me¡ªhonestly, she¡¯d probably rather see me at the bottom of the ocean than anywhere within ten feet of her¡ªbut I had to come.¡± I pointed to Big Jacky. ¡°Wherever he goes, I go.¡±


    When Nylah recovered from her surprise, she said, ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s the problem with power, right?¡± My hands went out to the side in a shrug. ¡°I¡¯m sort of his handler. The Torr likes someone to keep an eye on him. I¡¯m supposed to call in if anything big happens.¡±


    Nylah looked sideways at Jacky. I could almost see her mind churning over what I¡¯d said, trying to figure out what kind of power would call for that type of an appointment¡ªor how much power.


    There. I had absolved Olivia of any association with me and upped her credibility by making her master out to be some barely controlled superman.


    Funny though¡ªwhen I glanced at Olivia, she didn¡¯t look grateful. She looked mortified.


    Jacky said, with perfect honesty, ¡°I have been told I¡¯m hard to handle.¡±


    Bless you, Iset.


    Nylah turned back to me. ¡°And you have access to the Torr?¡±


    ¡°I have two enforcement units on speed dial.¡±


    I was stretching the lie a bit to claim Darius and Conrad were each their own enforcement unit when they usually worked together, but I figured I could get away with it since they were both strong enough to be one-man units in a pinch.


    Her eyes narrowed. ¡°Then you must know the torrmen.¡±


    It didn¡¯t sound like she believed me. The poor fool.


    ¡°Sure do,¡± I said. ¡°Thorburn, Ashworth, Uhler, Reynall. I don¡¯t know Klara Reynall all that well, but we¡¯ve met. Rabbi Dafna¡¯s great, but I don¡¯t think most people count her as a torrman. Strange, considering all she does.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s tradition, Emerra,¡± Jacky said. ¡°Father Thorburn is the torrman, Dafna acts as an adviser.¡±


    ¡°There you have it. Tradition.¡± I leaned forward and snatched up a cookie. ¡°These look fabulous.¡±


    Nylah sat back and crossed her legs. She steepled her fingers in front of her chest. ¡°And how did you get this appointment?¡±


    ¡°Oh, they dug me up somewhere.¡± I dunked my cookie in the cocoa and took a slurping bite. Mouth still half full, I said, ¡°It wasn¡¯t like I was doing anything else.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°Sorry, I can¡¯t really talk about it,¡± I said as sweetly as possible. ¡°It¡¯s classified.¡±


    Our staring contest was interrupted by Axton¡¯s chuckle.


    ¡°It seems you¡¯ve gotten yourself into something deep, Olivia,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m proud of you.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s cheeks went from pink to crimson.


    ¡°Now tell me about your studies!¡± he cried. ¡°Or is that classified too?¡±


    The conversation wandered on as we finished our drinks. Axton offered to take the dishes and tray back to the kitchen while Nylah showed us to our room.


    She led us upstairs, walked down the hall to the second door, and went inside.


    Olivia stopped in front of the doorway. ¡°This is my old room.¡±


    Nylah went over to the window and threw open the inner curtains. ¡°Yes, but it¡¯s a guest room now. We didn¡¯t think you¡¯d be coming back.¡±


    She turned to face us, crossed her arms, and waited.


    Olivia finally went inside. I was a step behind her.


    The room matched the rest of the house, and it was devoid of any personal touches. It might as well have been plucked out of a classy bed and breakfast. Sure, it was welcoming, but it also gave the impression it was only meant for temporary occupation.


    Nylah uncrossed her arms and walked toward the door. ¡°Janice has made the bed and brought in new pillow cases. There are spare blankets in the trunk, and you can find clean towels under the sink in the bathroom. Mr. Noctis is in the room next to yours.¡± She gave me a hard look. ¡°In case anything ¡®big¡¯ happens.¡±


    I grinned. ¡°You can never be too careful.¡±


    Nylah shut the door as she went, leaving Olivia and I standing side by side, alone, in the sterile room.


    ¡°I kind of hate you,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°Only kind of?¡± I put a hand on my hip. ¡°Huh! I¡¯m doing better than I thought!¡±

 Chapter 12 - An Uncomfortable Dinner

    Jacky excused himself from dinner by saying that he had important business that he couldn¡¯t miss out on. When Mr. Axton expressed his concern that Jacky would starve, I double-excused him by explaining that Jacky usually took care of his own meals.


    ¡°He¡¯s into some weird fad diets,¡± I said. ¡°Right now it¡¯s intermittent fasting.¡±


    ¡°Intermit¡ª¡± Axton pointed to the door Noctis had left by. ¡°That man is doing intermittent fasting?¡±


    ¡°You see, he¡¯s not trying to be rude. He just doesn¡¯t like to inconvenience people.¡±


    Axton shook his head. ¡°If a man like that is still dieting then there is no hope for the rest of us. How long has he been at it?¡±


    ¡°Oh, geez. A long time.¡±


    ¡°Well, it seems to be working. He¡¯s as skinny as a rail!¡±


    ¡°I know, right?¡± I said with a grin.


    I had used up all my meager talent for lying to cover for Big Jacky, so I didn¡¯t have any handy excuses that would allow me to get out of dinner. Besides, I was starving.


    At dinnertime, as Olivia and I made our way toward the stairs, I asked her if Nylah was going to be as confrontational during the meal as she had been that afternoon.


    ¡°Does it matter?¡± she said. ¡°I have no doubt you¡¯ll find some creative way to completely mortify me if she is.¡±


    ¡°I thought you¡¯d approve!¡± I said. ¡°Now you don¡¯t have to pretend to like me.¡±


    ¡°I was never going to pretend to like you.¡±


    ¡°And I admire your integrity. But I was more worried about how she talked to you.¡±


    Olivia hesitated at the top of the stairs. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    I made my voice higher to emphasize the biting sarcasm Nylah had so effortlessly employed. ¡°My, you have matured.¡±


    I never would have believed it if I hadn¡¯t seen it with my own magical eyes¡ªa faint smile appeared on Olivia¡¯s lips.


    She also rolled her eyes and shook her head, but I was used to that kind of reaction.


    ¡°That was nothing,¡± she said.


    We started down the stairs.


    ¡°That was cattish at best and¡±¡ªloyalty to Ms. Elstein made me pause, but my vocabulary wasn¡¯t good enough to supply a non-swearing alternative¡ª¡°bitchy at worst.¡±


    ¡°Trust me, she gets much worse.¡±


    My stomach sank. I''d braced myself for dealing with what I¡¯d assumed was Nylah''s average hostility level. I wasn''t thrilled by the idea that I''d underestimated the situation.


    Olivia went on, her voice casual, ¡°Anyway, you don¡¯t have to worry about dinner. She won¡¯t be catty in front of mother unless I provoke her. Mother doesn¡¯t like to be embarrassed in front of guests.¡±


    The little hairs on my arms stood up.


    I looked at Olivia out of the corner of my eye. As usual, her face was smooth and slightly haughty.


    Looking forward again, I said, ¡°Olivia, why do you wear your witch¡¯s hat so much?¡±


    ¡°Because I earned it, and no one¡¯s going to take it from me.¡±


    Axton was waiting for us in the opening to the dining room.


    ¡°Here they are!¡± he cried. ¡°That¡¯s almost a full table again.¡± He waved to hurry us. ¡°Come on, we don¡¯t want dinner to get cold.¡±


    Olivia and I sat side by side. Ellis and Nylah were across from us. Axton had a spot at the head of the table, but he had volunteered to help Janice bring in the dishes.


    I studied my table setting. There were five utensils, not counting the butter-spreader. So much for a ¡°casual¡± dinner.


    God bless Igor. His ludicrous insistence on setting out the silver and china for every dinner was the only reason I knew what some of those utensils were for, and I was much more comfortable revealing my ignorance to him, rather than the Oliversens. After all, Igor had already decided I was an uncultured abomination. With luck, the Oliversens hadn¡¯t figured it out yet.


    Axton kept a comfortable conversation going as we ate. He knew when to talk, he knew when to ask questions, and he knew when to prod people to share. I marveled as I watched him.


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    Being friendly came naturally to Rall Axton, token male, but conversation techniques like that had to be some kind of skill. He took those skills and slapped them over all the relationship cracks in an effort to hold the meal together.


    I wondered if he¡¯d tried to use them to hold his family together.


    The first awkward moment came when Olivia inserted her unprompted question into the conversation.


    ¡°Has anything weird been going on in town?¡±


    The tines of Nylah¡¯s fork rose, and her eyes narrowed. ¡°What are you going on about?¡±


    I had to bite my lips together to keep from laughing. For a moment, she¡¯d looked so much like Olivia, it was spooky, but I doubted either of them would have appreciated the comparison.


    Olivia ignored her sister. Her eyes were fixed on her mother.


    Ellis silently chewed her food, swallowed, and ran the edge of her napkin over her spotless mouth. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Nothing at all?¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°No, nothing.¡±


    ¡°There hasn¡¯t been any trouble or anything weird happening?¡±


    Ellis returned her napkin to her lap. ¡°Olivia, I think I would have heard if there was any trouble, and I¡¯d rather you didn¡¯t make me repeat myself again.¡±


    Olivia sat back, slouching into her chair and grimacing at her food.


    Axton said, ¡°Did you expect there to be something going on, pumpkin?¡±


    ¡°In this perfect town,¡± she grumbled, ¡°why would I?¡±


    Apparently, the rest of the Oliversens were also aware of the rules. None of them took her bait.


    Talk naturally began to revolve around the upcoming celebration since that¡¯s what Mrs. Oliversen had been working on the most, and I was able to relieve Axton of some of his duties as ¡°the grease that moves the wheel.¡± I had a lot of questions.


    Nylah explained, ¡°It¡¯s the anniversary of when Craftborough was officially recognized as its own town, independent from the laws of the larger settlements around it.¡±


    I¡¯d never heard of another town taking a few days off to celebrate their founding.


    ¡°Was it that important?¡± I asked.


    Ellis said, ¡°In every other town in the colony, it was legal to kill us.¡±


    Wow. Break out the sparklers.


    ¡°So why¡¯s it called Besom Days?¡± I asked.


    Olivia said, still sounding grumpy, ¡°Besom is an old word for broom. Witches. Brooms. Now do you get it?¡±


    I smiled at her and cocked my head. ¡°Come to think of it, I¡¯ve never seen a witch fly. Can you do it?¡±


    Nylah scoffed. ¡°With her handicap?¡±


    ¡°Nylah.¡±


    My eyes darted over to Axton. That dark tone sounded so unlike him, I had to check that he was the one that had spoken.


    He was staring hard at his step-daughter. She frowned and lowered her eyes.


    Ellis said smoothly, ¡°Only about half the witches trained today can fly. The ones that can don¡¯t usually bother. Cars are much faster and easier to work with.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the celebration like?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We usually take three days off, but since the festival falls on the weekend this year, we decided to give everyone Friday off as well.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be a welcome break!¡± Axton turned to his wife and raised an eyebrow. ¡°You should consider adding another lazy day after the party to give everyone some time to recover.¡±


    Ellis tried to give her husband a look that said his jokes weren¡¯t welcome, but the smile she couldn¡¯t completely repress said otherwise.


    It was a strange moment. Mrs. Oliversen was beautiful and cold, but just for a second, I¡¯d seen her soften. By the time she looked away from her husband, all the hardness was back.


    ¡°By Saturday,¡± she said, ¡°most of the vendors and street booths will be set up. On Sunday there are games for the children and we set aside a special area for demonstration magic. On Monday, the day-of, there are some special performances and the whole night ends with a few fireworks.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s demonstration magic?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Magic tricks,¡± Axton said, ¡°in every sense of the word.¡± He chuckled. ¡°You can always tell the mundanes in the crowd. They gawk like fish.¡±


    ¡°And the witches are the ones standing there with their arms crossed, judging you,¡± Olivia muttered.


    Ellis said, ¡°You should take the chance to enjoy the street fair, Miss Cole, but I hope you and Olivia are planning on joining our family during the main celebration.¡±


    I glanced at Olivia. Mrs. Oliversen must have seen it.


    ¡°Olivia did tell you about it, didn¡¯t she?¡± Ellis said.


    I shook my head.


    When Ellis peered at her, Olivia said, ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure we¡¯d be invited.¡±


    Her mother corrected her: ¡°You mean you weren¡¯t sure you¡¯d be here. You¡¯re an Oliversen. Of course, you¡¯d be invited.¡±


    Olivia flashed a sour smile. ¡°It¡¯s good to know my name will get me in.¡±


    Ellis¡¯s jaw set, and Nylah opened her mouth¡ªprobably to say something about Olivia¡¯s winning personality¡ªbut before she could, Axton said, ¡°And your master is invited too. Be sure to let him know. I hear that he¡¯s an important man. I bet our other guests of honor would enjoy meeting him.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s eyes moved between her parents. ¡°What other guests of honor?¡±


    Ellis sighed as she sat back in her chair. ¡°Your father conned me into inviting a few other magicians to this year¡¯s celebration.¡±


    Axton waggled his eyebrows when Olivia looked his way.


    Mrs. Oliversen went on, ¡°He wants us to be ¡®more a part of the larger magical community.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Ellis, darling,¡± Axton said, ¡°you make it sound like a curse. We can learn a lot from them¡ª¡±


    Mrs. Oliversen raised her hand to stop him. ¡°You¡¯ve already won, Rall.¡±


    Axton grinned.


    ¡°So we¡¯re not talking about the other covens?¡± Olivia asked.


    ¡°Why would I invite them?¡± Ellis said. ¡°They come anyway.¡±


    ¡°They come to the street fair. They don¡¯t usually wind up making it into one of your fancy parties.¡±


    ¡°One thing at a time,¡± Axton said. ¡°I had enough trouble getting her to invite the other branches.¡±


    Ellis put her napkin to the side of her plate. ¡°Rall Axton, not even you could talk me into welcoming another coven¡¯s Mistress.¡±


    ¡°In the meantime,¡± Axton said, without giving any sign that he¡¯d heard his wife, ¡°we¡¯ve already got some high-mucky-muck sorcerer and an alchemist that have reserved a seat.¡±


    ¡°You might know some of them, Emerra,¡± Nylah said.


    When I heard the unexpected hail, I glanced toward her. She was staring at me, challengingly, with a half-smirk on her face.


    ¡°When do they get here?¡± Olivia asked. Any grumpiness or attitude she¡¯d been holding onto was gone.


    ¡°They¡¯re probably already here,¡± Ellis said. ¡°I¡¯m giving two of them a tour of our town tomorrow. Saturday we¡¯re having a small evening cocktail party here, and this Monday is the coven¡¯s formal dinner party.¡±


    I hoped no one saw me wince at the word ¡°formal.¡± If I¡¯d tried to cram my one set of semi-formal clothes into a duffel bag, the semi-immortal Count Vasil would have dropped dead of a heart attack. Especially after all he went through to help me find it.


    Ellis continued, ¡°I¡¯m sure you think you¡¯re doing something very important, Olivia, but whatever it is, I suspect it can do without you for a few hours, so you might as well come.¡±


    A faint color rose under Olivia¡¯s freckles.


    Before she could answer, Rall Axton broke in.


    ¡°Please, pumpkin. I¡¯d like you to come.¡±


    Olivia made a face while looking at her plate. ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡±

 Chapter 13 - Nolan Kirby

    I brushed my teeth that night with the words of death ringing in my ears¡ªwhich, considering what we¡¯d been talking about, was only a little less dramatic than it sounds.


    Olivia, Jacky, and I had all gathered in his room to discuss what we¡¯d learned and what we wanted to do next.


    ¡°There¡¯s no ransom note.¡± Jacky had observed.


    ¡°So they didn¡¯t take him for ransom,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°But they haven¡¯t killed him. Nor have they let him go. Doesn¡¯t that seem to indicate that he¡¯s somehow being useful to them?¡±


    ¡°You think he¡¯s helping them? Ansel checked his background. She said there was nothing suspicious.¡±


    ¡°Then why¡ª¡±


    ¡°Maybe they just don¡¯t want to kill him!¡±


    Olivia¡¯s pacing never stopped and never slowed down, but Jacky paused and leaned back into his chair. His elbows went out to the side, and he interlaced his finger bones. ¡°That¡¯s interesting.¡±


    ¡°What is?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to imagine what the perpetrator or perpetrators might be like. They¡¯re criminals, obviously. They were willing to take someone away by force¡ªchoking him out, if we understand your vision correctly¡±¡ªJacky¡¯s voice became slow and thoughtful¡ª¡°but they don¡¯t want to kill him.¡±


    Olivia and I glanced at each other.


    ¡°Maybe they¡¯re forcing him to help?¡± I suggested.


    ¡°Then why Kirby?¡± Jacky said. ¡°What would they want from him?¡±


    ¡°The witches find him useful.¡±


    ¡°We find his plants useful,¡± Olivia corrected me. ¡°Kirby doesn¡¯t know any magic. He isn¡¯t even supposed to be an initiate. He¡¯s just a businessman who was smart enough to stock whatever his customers wanted. If the perpetrator was a witch, they would¡¯ve taken his stock¡ªnot him.¡±


    Jacky said, ¡°So we return to the question¡ªwhy kidnap Nolan Kirby?


    That was the cryptic question bouncing around my head as I spat out my toothpaste and rinsed it down the sink.


    The how wasn¡¯t difficult. If I was understanding my vision right¡ªas Jacky so cautiously put it¡ªthen Kirby was overpowered. There was still a question about how someone got into the shop without leaving any sign of having tampered with the lock, but I¡¯d hung around with Count Darius Vasil, vampire FBI agent, long enough to know that question had a lot of answers, including ones that didn¡¯t require magic.


    So, then, why?


    I tapped my toothbrush on the edge of the sink, gathered up my day clothes, and headed back to the¡­¡°guest bedroom.¡±


    I could feel the mental quotation marks clanking around the awkward phrase.


    It felt weird and sad to me that Mrs. Oliversen had changed her daughter¡¯s room while she was gone. Olivia was only seventeen. She should¡¯ve been coming home when she was eighteen! And there wasn¡¯t some witch¡¯s tradition that they had to move out once they became apprentices; Nylah still lived at home, and she was in her twenties.


    But Olivia stubbornly insisted that she didn¡¯t mind.


    So I minded for her.


    I slipped into the room without opening the door any wider than I had to, in case Olivia was changing, but she was already in the soft T-shirt and loose set of lounge pants that she wore as pajamas. They were, of course, black.


    Olivia was sitting up in bed, reading a book. The lamp beside her was on.


    ¡°Studying?¡± I asked as I crossed the room.


    ¡°No,¡± Olivia said. ¡°I was trying to get my mind off Kirby.¡±


    I dropped my clothes in a heap next to my duffel bag. I¡¯d put them away neatly tomorrow. Or never. Whichever came first.


    After grabbing my charging cord, I walked over to the far nightstand.


    ¡°Are you okay sharing the bed?¡± I asked.


    Mrs. Oliversen¡¯s redecoration had included removing Olivia¡¯s old twin-size bed and bringing in a queen.


    ¡°Do you snore?¡± Olivia asked.


    I shrugged. ¡°No one I¡¯ve shared a room with has ever complained about it.¡±


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    For a brief moment, I considered mentioning that the nightmares were a bigger problem than snoring, but I decided against it for the following excellent reasons: I was exhausted, and I didn¡¯t want to sleep on the floor. Besides, there was a chance, no matter how slim, that I wouldn¡¯t have a nightmare that night.


    I generously decided to give myself the benefit of the doubt.


    Since Olivia hadn¡¯t told me not to, after I finished plugging in my phone, I laid down on my half of the bed. I put my hands behind my head and stared at the ceiling.


    A minute passed.


    Then another.


    Maybe the chance wasn¡¯t as slim as I thought. I¡¯d forgotten about my insomnia.


    ¡°Hey, Olivia,¡± I said, still staring at the ceiling, ¡°what¡¯s Kirby like?¡±


    ¡°Why do you want to know?¡±


    Considering how exhausted I was, it took effort to hold back my temper, but I managed it. ¡°Because it¡¯d be nice to know something about the man I¡¯m looking for,¡± I said, with maybe a hint of stiffness.


    Olivia closed the book, but kept her finger in as a temporary bookmark. ¡°Kirby¡¯s smart, and kind, and funny. He likes people. He¡¯ll talk with anyone willing to stop with him for a minute, and he has less ambition than a sloth.¡±


    ¡°Is that a good thing?¡±


    ¡°It was something I liked about him. He has his little shop, and he loves it. That¡¯s all he wants from life.¡±


    I thought about his hand seeking Autumn¡¯s arm. ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    Olivia shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s what he told me. His family owns a flower shop. He says he would¡¯ve worked there, but everyone kept complaining that his bouquets looked awful, and he¡¯d say, ¡®It smells all right to me.¡¯¡±


    I smiled. ¡°How did he wind up in Craftborough?¡±


    ¡°He worked at another plant store in a neighboring town. He noticed that a lot of young women kept coming in and asking for the same plants, over and over again. When he talked to them, he learned they all came from the same place.¡±


    ¡°Saufgrove,¡± I said.


    ¡°His boss carried some of what we needed, but he didn¡¯t bother ordering in the rarer plants. Kirby decided he¡¯d fill the niche in the market.¡±


    ¡°He is smart.¡± I thought back to the shop. There¡¯d been a shelf by the door that had included non-plant items: overly large paper, journals, pens, beeswax candles, white candles, and chalk. ¡°He stocks other things witches need, doesn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°He carries ash.¡± Olivia smirked. ¡°Some of the old witches complain that the new generation won¡¯t even know how to make proper ash anymore.¡±


    ¡°How did you two become friends?¡±


    Olivia picked up a bookmark from her nightstand, placed it in her book, and laid the book aside. Halfway through the process, she lifted one of her shoulders in an awkward shrug. ¡°We got to talking. Isn¡¯t that how anyone becomes friends?¡±


    ¡°You weren¡¯t in there doing some plant-based school shopping?¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure, but I thought I felt Olivia relax. It was nothing but a gentle shift in the bed, so I could have imagined it.


    ¡°I was,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯d just started boarding at Saufgrove. It was the first time I had to do my own shopping.¡±


    ¡°How old were you?¡±


    ¡°Eleven.¡±


    ¡°I thought you¡¯d been going there since you were six.¡±


    ¡°I had, but I only started boarding at the school a few months after I was admitted into the secondary program. A lot of witches in the secondary program come from out of state.¡±


    I did some quick mental math. If I was running the numbers right, that meant that Olivia had spent four or five years going to Saufgrove while living at home.


    ¡°Did you have to board at the school?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It made things easier.¡±


    The abruptness of her statement and the edge in her voice made me hesitate to ask what had made things hard. I decided to move back to a less hazardous topic.


    ¡°Did you like Kirby right away?¡±


    Olivia thought for a second. ¡°Maybe not right away, but it didn¡¯t take long.¡± She put her head in her hand. ¡°God, I was such a rude little idiot.¡±


    I bit my lips together to keep from commenting.


    She said, ¡°I kept asking him all these questions about his blindness.¡±


    ¡°Did he mind?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Was it really rude if he didn¡¯t mind?¡±


    Olivia shrugged again. ¡°Sometimes I¡¯d go in just to see him¡ªlike if I wanted a break.¡± She rushed to add, ¡°I didn¡¯t have a crush on him or anything.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to explain, Olivia. Girls can be hard to get along with sometimes, can¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°Oh, my god. You have no idea.¡±


    I was more amused than irritated by her contradiction. One might have thought my comment demonstrated that I had at least some idea, but Olivia was only seventeen¡ªshe was allowed to be stupid.


    She went on, ¡°I think what I liked most about him was that he had no idea who the hell the Oliversens were. To him, I was nothing but a nosy girl from Saufgrove.¡±


    Maybe I knew less than I thought. I didn¡¯t have a family, let alone a famous one.


    I wonder if my teenage stupid-pass has expired. Does that end at twenty? Or twenty-one?


    ¡°You like Autumn, don¡¯t you?¡± I kept my voice soft¡ªalways a good idea when you¡¯re testing the conversational waters. I might be dipping my toe into ice water, or I might be dipping it into acid.


    ¡°What does that have to do with anything?¡± Olivia demanded.


    ¡°Did she know who the Oliversens were?¡±


    ¡°She learned really fast.¡± Olivia punched her pillow into shape and dropped herself back onto the bed. Her pillow let out a quiet whoof. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we be trying to sleep?¡±


    This was me trying to sleep, but I didn¡¯t want to break that to my involuntary roommate.


    ¡°Can I ask you why your mom hates the other coven mistresses?¡± I asked.


    ¡°There¡¯s a lot of jealousy and competitiveness. Covens go out of their way to keep every other coven at arm¡¯s length. It¡¯s about secrecy. You don¡¯t share anything if you don¡¯t have to, and you never trust another witch.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Supposedly, it protects our interests. Witches are paid for their work. If we gave away our secrets, why would anyone hire us?¡±


    Olivia had put a suspicious amount of emphasis on the word ¡°supposedly.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s the real reason?¡±


    ¡°Tradition. It¡¯s just like the candle from this morning, and it¡¯s just as stupid.¡± Olivia turned off the lamp beside her.


    A dim light bled through the curtains, giving the shadows in the room exaggerated shapes.


    ¡°Olivia,¡± I whispered.


    ¡°Emerra,¡± she groaned, ¡°how much do I have to pay you to shut up and let me sleep?¡±


    As an apprentice, there was no way she could afford my rates, so I continued.


    ¡°What are we going to do about the invitations?¡±


    At the end of our discussion with Jacky, Olivia had mentioned the cocktail party and the formal dinner, but when Big Jacky had told her he was willing to attend them both, she¡¯d ignored his comment.


    I wondered if she would ignore mine.


    After a few seconds, she rolled away from me. Her answer sounded distant and muffled. ¡°If we don¡¯t have something better to do, we¡¯ll go.¡±


    I lay in bed, letting my eyes draw the outline of the shadows as I thought about traditions, fashion standards, and Mr. Nolan Kirby until I finally faded off.

 Chapter 14 - Kerfuffle

    Around three in the morning, the nightmare woke me. I sat up in bed, my hand at my throat, brushing my neck. There was nothing there.


    I gulped and tried to slow my breathing.


    As my heartbeat quieted, I noticed there were voices coming from the hall. They were hushed, but the tone of urgency carried through the door.


    Beside me, I felt Olivia shift toward the edge of the bed.


    ¡°Olivia?¡± I whispered.


    ¡°Shhhhh!¡± she hissed.


    I watched her black form move to the door. She crouched against it for a few seconds, listening, then she suddenly opened it.


    The hall light wasn¡¯t on, but the light in the room across from ours was, and the door was open. Ellis and Nylah Oliversen were standing in the hall. Ellis was fully dressed, and her phone was in her hand. Nylah was wearing a bathrobe over her pajamas. Neither of them looked sleepy.


    ¡°Olivia¡±¡ªMrs. Oliversen sounded surprised¡ª¡°what are you doing up?¡±


    ¡°You were talking loudly.¡± Olivia stepped into the hall to join them. ¡°What happened?¡±


    Nylah crossed her arms and her eyes narrowed. Ellis frowned and put her phone in her pocket.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t any of your business, Olivia,¡± Ellis said. ¡°Go back to bed.¡±


    ¡°How is it not my business? It¡¯s my coven isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Since when have you ever cared about the coven?¡± her sister said with a sneer.


    ¡°Nylah,¡± her mother said.


    Nylah pressed her lips together so hard, they practically disappeared.


    Ellis turned to her younger daughter. ¡°You¡¯re still an apprentice.¡± When Olivia opened her mouth to argue, Ellis raised her voice. ¡°And even if you were an adept, I wouldn¡¯t tell you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll tell Nylah, but not me?¡±


    Mrs. Oliversen sighed. ¡°Someday, Olivia, you¡¯ll learn that you don¡¯t have to take everything personally. Until then, let me ask you something¡ªdo you see me calling every witch in our coven and telling them what happened?¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t a rhetorical question,¡± Ellis said.


    ¡°No,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°Then if you want to obsess over the idea that I¡¯m excluding you, at least you can comfort yourself with the knowledge that you¡¯re not alone. Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me, I have to go.¡±


    Nylah started to say, ¡°Are you sure¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure. I appreciate your concern, and if I need you, you¡¯ll hear from me. Goodnight.¡± Ellis stepped between her daughters. Without looking back, she added, ¡°To both of you.¡±


    Both of them watched her go, and they both had the same look of frustration on their faces. When Ellis was gone, Olivia turned to her sister.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on,¡± she demanded.


    ¡°Why would I tell you?¡± Nylah said.


    ¡°Is there a reason you wouldn¡¯t tell me?¡±


    Nylah let out a mean laugh. ¡°Oh, let¡¯s see. Shall we start with the fact that you¡¯re nothing but a stuck-up Johnny-come-lately?¡±


    Olivia tried to murder her sister with a glare.


    Nylah, far from recoiling in agony, leaned in and returned the glare with one of her own. ¡°You think you can abandon us for a year¡ªnever call, never write¡ªthen come waltzing back when it suits you and assume that you have any rights at all? I thought you wanted nothing to do with us! Well, that suited us just fine.¡±


    Nylah turned, went into the room across from ours, and shut the door behind her, cutting off most of the light.


    The darkness turned Olivia into a shadow. The fact she stood there, motionless, enhanced the illusion. Then the shadow came to life, walked back into our room, shut the door, and crawled into bed.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I asked. My voice was quiet.


    Olivia¡¯s voice was not: ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡±


    I grit my teeth.


    That girl knew how to bring a battle to every conversation. But considering the sample I¡¯d overheard, it made sense; her arsenal was roughly equivalent to her sister¡¯s and her mother¡¯s. There was plenty of power there for mutually assured destruction.


    It¡¯s not my war, I reminded myself.


    I tried again. ¡°Did you hear anything when you were listening in?¡±


    ¡°Mother must have gotten a call. Something¡¯s happened, and it¡¯s something big.¡±


    ¡°Why do you think that?¡±


    ¡°Because no one wants to call Mother unless they have to.¡±


    ¡°Do you have any idea what it could be?¡±


    The mattress sank for a moment as Olivia settled herself. ¡°It has something to do with one of the buildings. I heard that much. We¡¯ll find out more tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Will your mother tell us over breakfast or something?¡±


    ¡°I never said we¡¯d learn it from her. We¡¯ll figure it out ourselves. If something weird is going on in this town, it might have something to do with why Kirby¡¯s missing.¡±


    She curled up on her side, her hands up by her head, and a few minutes later, she was asleep again. Her breathing slowed, and I felt her body relax.


    What a tense little thing.


    I wondered if that¡¯s what I was like when I was younger¡ªonly able to relax when I was asleep.


    No, my brain reminded me, there were a few times when you were alone too.


    I frowned in the darkness.


    Olivia, for as tense as she was, turned out to be the lucky one. I couldn¡¯t get back to sleep at all. When I got tired of tossing and turning, I slid out of bed and snuck from the room, quietly closing the door behind me.


    Nylah¡¯s door was dark. Jacky¡¯s door was as well. He wasn¡¯t asleep, because Jacky never slept, but he knew how to fake it if the situation called for it. He could be sitting alone in his dark room, thinking whatever thoughts death thinks. Or maybe, to keep from getting bored, he¡¯d gone out for a short walk to somewhere nice. Like Japan.


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    I had to ask him about that. I might be able to get some manga.


    I wandered over to the stairs, keeping my steps slow so I wouldn¡¯t trip on anything in the dim light. If all the bedrooms were upstairs, maybe I could find something to do downstairs that would eat up a few lonely hours.


    When I reached the main floor, I saw a misshapen rectangle of golden light coming from a doorway behind the stairs. I tiptoed over and leaned my head around the open doorframe.


    It was the kitchen. Rall Axton was sitting at the small table in the middle of the room, munching quietly on a bowl of cereal.


    His eyes rose to meet mine.


    ¡°Miss Cole?¡±


    I shyly stepped into the doorway. ¡°Sorry. I wasn¡¯t sneaking around or anything. I couldn¡¯t sleep.¡±


    The smile lines around his eyes bent up. ¡°Neither could I. Come in! Would you like some cereal?¡±


    I walked closer. ¡°It¡¯s not healthy cereal, is it?¡±


    I was teasing him. I could see the open box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch beside his bowl.


    He stood up and went over to a cabinet to fetch another bowl. ¡°That filthy stuff on the table is skim milk, so we¡¯ll call it healthy enough.¡±


    I sat down in the chair close to his, but off to the right, on the other side of the table. He came over and put the bowl and spoon down in front of me.


    ¡°Did you wake up with Mrs. Oliversen?¡± I asked.


    He sat down. ¡°Yes. She got a call this morning. You heard about it?¡±


    ¡°She and Nylah were talking out in the hall.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that, Miss Cole.¡±


    I shook my head and grabbed the cereal box. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. I always have trouble sleeping. And you can call me Emerra.¡± As I poured, I said, ¡°Miss Cole sounds too fancy when we¡¯re hanging out in pajamas.¡±


    Axton swung his legs back, causing his striped silk pants to ruffle a bit. ¡°And Mr. Axton sounds so old. Call me Rall.¡±


    I looked into his wrinkled face, framed by his white hair and white mustache, and we both smiled.


    I tried to keep my voice nice and casual as I asked, ¡°Do you know anything about what happened?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s coven business. They don¡¯t tell me anything.¡± Rall passed me the milk. ¡°I do love a competent woman, but every once in a while, I get the urge to break something around the house so I can fix it and feel like a hero.¡±


    I should have simply smiled at his joke, but it happened to touch on all the nebulous and uneasy confusion I had dismissed (quite properly) as none of my business. How could a man as easy-going as Rall Axton, deal with someone as hard and uncompromising as Ellis Oliversen? If it hadn''t been so early, I might have had the sense to keep that thought to myself.


    Unfortunately, it was three in the morning..


    ¡°Do you really love Ellis?¡±


    Rall gazed at me for a second, then laughed. When I realized how rude my question must have sounded, I blushed.


    ¡°Surprised, are you?¡± he said.


    ¡°She¡¯s very beautiful,¡± I said, staring, red-faced, at my cereal.


    ¡°Then you should be more surprised that she was willing to marry a man like me! She could¡¯ve married a man twelve years younger than her¡ªthere were a few young bucks brave enough to glance her way¡ªbut she married someone twelve years older. That¡¯s how you know it was love.¡±


    I thought ¡°brave enough¡± was a good way to put it.


    Rall went on, ¡°I didn¡¯t have anything to offer her that she didn¡¯t already have. On the other hand, the only thing she could offer me that I didn¡¯t already have was herself and the right to call two beautiful girls my daughters.¡± He tilted his head to the side, and the edge of his lips snuck up by a quarter of an inch. ¡°And then Olivia.¡±


    ¡°But you''re an Axton,¡± I said. ¡°Doesn''t that automatically make you a catch? Aren''t they a powerful line?¡±


    Rall hummed and looked up at me. ¡°Oh! Well, I¡¯m not. I¡¯m a dud,¡± he said cheerfully. ¡°Of course, the men are never expected to be witches¡ªnot like the girls are¡ªbut most of them are born with at least a modicum of talent.¡±


    ¡°And you weren¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Nope! I¡¯m as mundane as they come. Of course I knew about magic. You can¡¯t be an Axton and not know. And I was happy to wedge myself into the magical community using my family tree as a lever.¡± He mimicked pulling down on a long pole and made a face so I¡¯d know how hard the work was.


    I smiled.


    ¡°What about you?¡± he asked. ¡°Are you a sorcerer?¡±


    I shook my head.


    ¡°An alchemist?¡±


    I swallowed my food before answering. ¡°Like I told Nylah, no powers.¡± I remembered the odd distinction that magicians, and witches especially, made between the concept of power and talent. ¡°No talent either. I¡¯m no magician.¡±


    Rall Axton stared at me with his clear blue eyes, and I got the feeling that behind those eyes was an excellent brain, and it wasn¡¯t sure if I was telling the truth.


    ¡°But you live with Mr. Noctis,¡± Rall said. ¡°I couldn¡¯t learn much about him, but I do know it¡¯s a name that pops up around the Torr.¡±


    I took a hasty bite of cereal so I wouldn¡¯t have to comment.


    Rall added, ¡°Including the Torrs outside of our area.¡±


    Between him asking awkward questions about Noctis, and him asking awkward questions about me, I decided the latter would be less dangerous. Darius had only warned me to keep my powers a secret; he broke the law to protect Jacky.


    I shrugged, ¡°Big Jacky collects people.¡±


    ¡°He¡­collects people?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. There¡¯s seven of us staying at Jacky¡¯s mansion. Eight if you count him. That includes Olivia, but she¡¯s the only magician. We¡¯re¡­¡± I struggled to find the right way to describe it. ¡°We¡¯re an eclectic group.¡±


    And thank you, Count Vasil, for teaching me that ten-dollar word.


    Rall sat back in his chair. One arm went across his chest to support his elbow while his other hand rose to rest by the side of his mouth.


    ¡°Tell me about it,¡± he said.


    It was an invitation, pure and simple, and his blue eyes sparkled as they regarded me. A slow smile spread over my face.


    Ten minutes later, my chair was next to his, we were leaning against each other, arm to arm, my phone was out of my pocket, I was flipping through my photos, and what was left of my cereal was a hopeless swamp floating in cinnamon-swirl milk.


    ¡°Here¡¯s Kappa, again,¡± I said. ¡°He says that¡¯s his koi pond, but I¡¯m not sure the koi agree. Isn¡¯t he the cutest?¡±


    ¡°I suppose. If you don¡¯t mind the slime. Does Olivia like him?¡±


    ¡°She likes him fine¡ªmore than she likes a lot of people¡ªbut their relationship is kind of strained because he keeps trying to chew on her hair when she¡¯s not looking.¡±


    Rall chuckled.


    I swiped to the next photo. When I realized who it was, I grinned. ¡°That¡¯s Mrs. Park.¡±


    ¡°Mrs. Park? You didn¡¯t mention her.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s our housekeeper. She only comes in on the weekdays, so she¡¯s not technically a resident, but she¡¯s definitely one of us. She dabbles in witchcraft, you know.¡±


    ¡°How does someone dabble in witchcraft?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a mundane, but she likes to read books on Wicca.¡±


    ¡°Wicca? You mean that New Age stuff?¡±


    I nodded while trying to keep my smile at a reasonable level, befitting the serious nature of Mrs. Park¡¯s hobby.


    Rall shook his head. ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll bet Olivia finds that absolutely charming.¡±


    I laughed. Rall Axton certainly knew his daughter.


    ¡°If she¡¯s a mundane,¡± he said, ¡°how does she work there? She must know about Iset.¡±


    I¡¯d never realized how much of an anomaly Iset was. I mean, the only one left in the world, sure, but she seemed so normal to me. Rall had raised an eyebrow when he saw the scowling portrait of Igor, but when I showed him Iset, he¡¯d muttered a swear word and took my phone to get a closer look.


    I gazed at Mrs. Park¡¯s bright smile. ¡°She doesn¡¯t mind. I don¡¯t know how she reacted when she first met Iset, but now she doesn¡¯t even think about it.¡±


    Kind of like me, I realized.


    I swiped left. The next photo was filled corner to corner, with me and Conrad. I had my arm around his neck (not that you could see it through all that fur) and our heads were together. Conrad was trying to scowl up at the camera, but you could see the edge of his black lips curving up. I was grinning, shamelessly, as if I had successfully prevailed upon the world¡¯s shyest wolfman to let me take a selfie with him.


    Rall pointed to the screen. ¡°That¡¯s the lycanthrope? What did you say his name was¡ªBauer?¡±


    I smiled down at my phone. ¡°Yup. That¡¯s Conrad.¡± Then I raised my eyes to Rall and said with due pride, ¡°He¡¯s my pack.¡±


    ¡°Huh. A bit of a strange one, isn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°He seems normal to me.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Of course, he¡¯s the only one I know.¡±


    Rall eyed me skeptically. ¡°And you¡¯re in his pack?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± I leaned over to add in a dramatic whisper, ¡°I think it¡¯s honorary. I don¡¯t know if I could really get in with such sorry fur.¡± I brushed my hand over my scalp.


    Having shown him at least one picture of everyone, I shut down my phone and put it back in my pocket. Rall sat up straight and leaned back while I scooted my chair closer to where I¡¯d started from.


    Rall said, ¡°So you, Mr. Vasil, and Igor are the only normal ones?¡± Before I could answer, he added, ¡°That Igor though¡ªis he normal?¡±


    I grinned and shrugged again. I hadn¡¯t told him that Darius was a vampire, and you couldn¡¯t tell by looking at a picture. As far as I knew¡ªwhich, granted, wasn¡¯t far¡ªIgor was more normal than either me or Darius.


    ¡°Like I said, we¡¯re an eclectic group.¡±


    ¡°You checked the box marked ¡®other,¡¯¡± Rall¡¯s voice was full of approval. ¡°And you seem happy there.¡±


    ¡°Do I?¡± I glanced at the glop in my bowl and pushed it away.


    ¡°All those pictures, and you couldn¡¯t figure that out?¡±


    A whisper of cold nerves blew over my stomach. The icy feeling faded in a second, but I¡¯d felt it, and my heart hurt when I realized what it meant.


    I was happy there. And that scared me.


    ¡°Does Olivia like it there?¡± Rall asked.


    I looked at him. There was a forced smile tucked under his mustache, but his eyes were serious.


    ¡°I hope so,¡± I said, ¡°but I don¡¯t know for sure.¡± I tried to manufacture my own smile, but my sinking stomach pulled it down into a smirk. ¡°I wasn¡¯t kidding about Olivia not liking me. On the other hand, I know she likes Iset, and she¡¯s been working hard. She¡¯s really, really brilliant.¡±


    Rall lowered his eyes so I couldn¡¯t see them, but his fake smile turned into a real one. ¡°Oh, I know. She had to be.¡±


    There was a short silence as a brief but intense war raged in my head.


    ¡°Can I ask you something?¡± I said at last.


    Rall¡¯s eyebrows rose. ¡°I suppose.¡±


    ¡°This evening at dinner, Nylah said something about Olivia¡¯s handicap. What did she mean?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡±


    I shook my head.


    Rall let out a quiet chuckle. ¡°Now I know you¡¯re not a magician.¡± He sat back, let out a loud sigh, and crossed his arms. ¡°Olivia¡¯s blind.¡±

 Chapter 15 - The Blind Witch

    I stared at Rall Axton. The tallies in my eyes read ¡°zero comprehension.¡±


    ¡°As a witch,¡± Axton explained, ¡°she¡¯s blind, like me. I suppose it has to be my fault, really, but who¡¯d expect that kind of an outcome?¡±


    ¡°You mean she has no talent?¡± I said.


    Rall¡¯s face screwed up on one side. ¡°It depends on how you define it. ¡®Talent¡¯ isn¡¯t even a real term. It¡¯s all mixed up about magic, your ability to manipulate it, what you can sense, how you sense it, if you¡¯re lucky enough to see¡ª¡± He waved his hand around. ¡°That kind of thing. I tried to talk to Ellis about it a few times. I wanted to understand.¡±


    ¡°What did you learn?¡±


    Rall leaned forward and put his folded hands on the table. ¡°You know that there¡¯s a difference between a magician¡¯s ability to perceive magic and their ability to manipulate magic, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Talent and power.¡±


    ¡°With witches it¡¯s a bit more complicated. To them, power is a combination of how much magic the witch produces and her ability to manipulate magic¡ªboth her own and the world¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°In that regard, Olivia is one of the most powerful witches I know. She¡¯s so powerful, we didn¡¯t find out about her lack of perception until she was eleven.¡±


    ¡°She can¡¯t see anything?¡±


    ¡°Most witches can¡¯t see magic. That¡¯s a rare talent. But most witches, and quite a few people who aren¡¯t witches, can sense the magic, out there, around them.¡±


    ¡°Then, she can¡¯t sense anything.¡± It seemed too incredible to me. I had to be missing something.


    ¡°Nothing outside of her own magic. If you put a blind person in the middle of a strange room and told them to hold still, they wouldn¡¯t know anything about where they were. But when they started moving around, touching things, and feeling out where everything was, then they would. Olivia¡¯s the same way. She can only sense the magic she¡¯s producing. To know what¡¯s going on around her, she has to feel around with her own power.¡±


    ¡°O-okay,¡± I stuttered. ¡°But how does that¡ªyou know¡ªaffect her?¡±


    ¡°Well, the most obvious consequence is that she¡¯s cut off from most spiritual magic.¡±


    I knew that natural magic included everything in the material world, even the normally invisible stuff like magic power, and that spiritual magic was somehow supposed to be the other stuff¡ªbut my understanding of what that stuff was, where it came from, and how it wasn¡¯t a part of the material world, was a nebulous blob of confusion hiding behind a convenient term.


    ¡°Is that a problem?¡± I asked.


    ¡°For a sorcerer or an alchemist, it never would be,¡± Rall said, ¡°but witches are different. Being able to work with spiritual magic is one of the things that makes witchcraft unique. If you can¡¯t do any kind of divination¡­¡± He frowned and shook his head. ¡°You might as well turn in your hat. The other issue is that doing magic is automatically more difficult for Olivia. She has to be expending power simply to know what¡¯s going on, and then she has to use even more power to accomplish her tasks. Precise spell work is harder as well¡ªlike trying to sign your name neatly on a line with your eyes closed.¡±


    I could still remember Ellis¡¯s exact tone: ¡°A rune, Miss Oliversen?¡±


    ¡°Do witches use runes?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Not often. Only if they need to hold their place in a complex spell. That¡¯s a tool that sorcerers are more likely to use.¡±


    A crutch. Olivia had been using a crutch to help her direct her power to the proper place, and when her mother had taken her crutch away, Olivia chose to send that power to every inch of the room, lighting the candle by brute force, rather than let her mother win.


    I put my elbows on the table and put my head in my hands. It felt like I was seeing Olivia for the first time in my life.


    ¡°What on earth happened here?¡± I muttered.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± Rall said.


    I tried to organize my thoughts¡ªwhich, at the moment, was like trying to scoot a swarm of bees along with my bare hands.


    I raised my head. ¡°First of all, how did you not know, and then, how did you find out?¡±


    ¡°Our best guess is that it had to do with the damned inexactness of it all. The teachers would look at this seven-year-old girl and say, ¡®can you sense that?¡¯ and Olivia would reach out with her power, and she¡¯d sense it! How was she supposed to know that the other girls weren¡¯t doing the same thing?¡±


    ¡°And they didn¡¯t¡ªI don¡¯t know¡ªsense her doing it?¡±


    ¡°Ellis might have, if she¡¯d been in the room. But a normal teacher?¡± Rall shook his head. ¡°Young witches are clumsy at that age. They go spilling their power all over the place, and Olivia had a lot to spill.¡± He shifted in his seat. ¡°We found out about her blindness on the day she took her entrance examination.¡±


    There was no expression on his face this time. No smile, real or faked, and no theatrical frown meant to communicate something. There was nothing but a somber softness to his features, and a sense of sadness in his eyes.


    ¡°That poor young woman,¡± he said.


    ¡°Olivia?¡±


    ¡°No. The woman that gave her the examination. I don¡¯t remember her name. She was a first-generation witch¡ªa scholarship girl. She¡¯d barely become an adept. She didn¡¯t know anything. Halfway through the test, it became obvious something was wrong. She figured out what it was very quickly, but because Olivia had passed the tests and done everything that was asked, she admitted Olivia into the program.¡±


    In the short silence, the temperature in the kitchen seemed to drop a degree.


    ¡°Ellis was furious,¡± Rall whispered.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°She was already the head of the coven. That meant she was also the de facto mistress of Saufgrove. Under normal circumstances, someone like Olivia would never have been admitted into the secondary program. But for her daughter, they¡¯d made an exception. It looked bad. It looked very bad.¡±


    ¡°But she didn¡¯t know,¡± I said. ¡°Did she?¡±


    ¡°Ellis is strict and fair-minded. She never would¡¯ve allowed it if she had.¡±


    Strict, I believed. I wasn¡¯t as sold on ¡°fair-minded.¡±


    Rall went on, ¡°When Ellis found out, she tried to have the decision revoked. Those were¡±¡ªhis voice dropped¡ª¡°bad days. Ellis, holding off the cats that wanted her head on a platter while trying to keep the coven running smoothly, do all her own work, and figure out what to do about Olivia. Olivia was in tears most of the time. All her life, all she¡¯d wanted to be was a witch. Like her mother. And her mother was the one trying to get her pulled from the school. She couldn¡¯t understand! She thought she¡¯d done something wrong.¡±


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    I could picture it. Rall wrapping his arms around Olivia¡¯s small frame. Her burying her bright red head against his shoulder. My heart ached with sympathy.


    Axton took a deep breath. ¡°Eventually the school board decided to let Olivia try, even though it went against all the rules.¡±


    He paused.


    I was surprised by how creaky my voice sounded when it broke the silence: ¡°That was kind of them.¡±


    Rall grimaced. ¡°It wasn¡¯t kindness. Witches are worse than warriors when it comes to brutality. I¡¯d bet this house that half of the women on that board only wanted to watch an Oliversen fail. And they wanted to see what Ellis would do¡ªif there would be anything they could use against her.¡±


    This time I kept my mouth shut and let the silence have its say. Seconds passed.


    Rall sighed, then said, ¡°But Olivia kept insisting she wanted to go. Between that and the school board¡¯s decision, Ellis had to allow it. All she could do was lay down the law. There would be no exceptions or accommodations granted. Olivia had to pass the classes like every other student. If she couldn¡¯t keep up, she¡¯d be expelled¡ªno second chances.¡±


    ¡°And Olivia did it?¡± I wasn¡¯t sure how I could feel so proud of someone I didn¡¯t even like.


    ¡°She had some help,¡± Rall admitted.


    ¡°From you?¡±


    He chuckled. ¡°Alas, no. I quit my job to research magic, but I was years behind. By the time I might¡¯ve been useful, my little girl didn¡¯t need me anymore. It was that young woman.¡± He snapped his fingers as if he was trying to recall a name. ¡°The one from the examination. Even if it was an accident, I think she felt bad for putting Olivia into such a tough spot. I understand she tutored Olivia almost every day after school. Now that¡±¡ªhe shook his finger at me¡ª¡°that was kind of her.¡±


    My mouth had gone dry. I had to lick the roof of it before I could speak.


    ¡°Autumn Langley.¡±


    Rall cocked his head and looked at me.


    I said, ¡°The name of the woman that gave her the exam¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes!¡± Rall smiled. ¡°Autumn Langley. That was her name.¡±


    Olivia Oliversen. Autumn Langley. And Nolan Kirby¡ªa man that Olivia couldn¡¯t help being curious about. No wonder she¡¯d asked him all those questions about his blindness.


    Rall Axton scooted to the front of his chair and put his arms on the table. ¡°Now, Miss Cole¡ªor, Emerra, since we¡¯re both in our pajamas¡ªnow that I¡¯ve answered your questions, why don¡¯t you tell me the real reason that Olivia came home?¡±


    My swarm of thoughts, which had been buzzing around, accomplishing who-knows-what with their hundreds of tiny tasks, all stopped, mid-hum, stupefied by the unexpected question.


    Fortunately, my confident and articulate nature came to my rescue:


    ¡°Ummmmmmm¡­¡±


    Rall ignored my witty rhetoric.


    ¡°In case you couldn¡¯t guess from everything I¡¯ve told you, I don¡¯t have much use for secrets. I generally find that communication works better.¡±


    ¡°Uhhhhh¡­¡±


    ¡°I know that Olivia never would¡¯ve come back here without a compelling reason. And it isn¡¯t the festival or her report. Ellis misses a lot, but even she can see that.¡±


    I let out a hollow laugh and muttered, ¡°¡®Blind as a witch.¡¯¡±


    Rall blinked. ¡°That¡¯s something that Olivia used to say.¡±


    ¡°She still says it.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not a witch. I can see something¡¯s going on. Olivia will never tell me, so I¡¯m hoping I can strong-arm you into spilling the beans.¡±


    ¡°Why won¡¯t Olivia tell you?¡±


    ¡°Oh¡±¡ªhe rolled his eyes just like his daughter did (but less often)¡ª¡°it¡¯s the same old story. She thinks I¡¯m useless. Or she doesn¡¯t want me saying anything to her mother.¡±


    ¡°Would you tell Ellis?¡±


    Rall hesitated, then said, ¡°Not for this. Not that it¡¯s a secret, mind you, but I wouldn¡¯t want to bother her with it when she¡¯s so busy with everything else.¡±


    I smiled when I heard that bit of justification.


    I agreed with him about communication working better than secrets, and while I respected the fact that Olivia didn¡¯t want to tell her parents what she was doing, she hadn¡¯t explicitly told me not to.


    Okay. She had told me not to take their bait¡ªbut this was hardly bait! It was more like¡­a friendly conversation! And, god knew, we could use another ally.


    Rall and I looked at each other¡ªtwo kindred souls who knew how to bend, braid, and whirl our thoughts to get what we wanted.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not twist your arm.¡± Rall¡¯s eyes were sparkling. ¡°Not if you really are in that fellow, Bauer¡¯s, pack.¡±


    I put my forearm on the table and leaned over it. ¡°If Olivia asks, you tricked me into telling you with a bunch of clever questions.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯d never believe me if I told her that. Remember, she doesn¡¯t think much of me.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but she thinks even less of me. She wouldn¡¯t be surprised if I told her I¡¯d been outwitted by a pile of pond scum.¡±


    Rall winked. ¡°Got it.¡±


    ¡°Do you know who Nolan Kirby is?¡±


    He shook his head.


    ¡°He runs the apothecary shop near the school.¡±


    ¡°The blind fellow! I¡¯ve only met him once or twice, but he seems nice.¡±


    ¡°He is. He¡¯s friends with Olivia.¡±


    There could be no greater testament to a soul¡¯s gracious and patient nature.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know that,¡± Rall said.


    ¡°She got to know him while she was studying at Saufgrove.¡±


    Rall rubbed the white stubble on his chin. ¡°That makes sense.¡± He paused, mid-rub. ¡°Oh, dear. Oh. Yes, I can see why she would¡¯ve been drawn to him.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s gone missing.¡±


    ¡°Missing?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a sign up that says he¡¯s on vacation, but Olivia and Autumn Langley think something¡¯s wrong.¡±


    ¡°If a man is missing, surely that¡¯s something you¡¯d take to Ansel.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s done what she can, but there¡¯s all this red tape and rules around a missing adult or something. Olivia¡¯s here to figure out what¡¯s going on.¡±


    ¡°Is that why she asked if there was anything weird going on in town?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I¡¯d already heard the answer, but it occurred to me that Rall Axton might have different sources of information than his wife. ¡°Has there been anything weird?¡±


    ¡°What kind of weird?¡±


    Ah. Yes. The big question.


    It couldn¡¯t be weird like camels walking down the street in snow-shoes. Something that obvious would have been noticed long before now. And since there¡¯d been no magic at the shop, there didn¡¯t seem to be much point in asking about magic-weird.


    ¡°They¡¯re criminals, obviously.¡±


    No kidding, obviously. At the time I wondered why Jacky had bothered mentioning that conclusion¡ªbut now I could see the implications of it, leading off into the fog like crumbs laid along the ground.


    I said slowly, ¡°Has there been any more crime recently?¡±


    Rall scowled. ¡°I¡¯m not sure, but I¡¯d doubt it. We don¡¯t get much crime in Craftborough. When roughly sixty percent of the population is made up of practicing witches, most people think twice before doing something others wouldn¡¯t approve of.¡±


    ¡°Do you know of anyone who would know?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s an easy answer. Tarah Ansel.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes. Um, does she happen to like you?¡±


    Rall smiled sympathetically. ¡°It can be hard to be a stranger in a small town, can¡¯t it?¡±


    Honestly, I thought most of our problems getting along with people stemmed from being associated with the Oliversens, but I couldn¡¯t tell if it was due to Ellis¡¯s influence or if Olivia had earned the animosity all by herself.


    ¡°Let me ask around,¡± Rall said. ¡°I have a group of friends I meet with every morning to go walking. I think we might be useful to you.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Never underestimate the power of retirees. We have all the time in the world to get into trouble.¡±


    ¡°Call out the geriatric gang?¡± I said with a grin.


    ¡°Exactly! And keep me informed if you learn anything.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡±


    ¡°What are you three doing tomorrow? No¡ªI mean today. Later today.¡±


    ¡°We were going to talk to the people in Kirby¡¯s neighborhood and ask them if they¡¯d noticed anything, but Olivia wants to know what happened tonight, so we might be taking a detour.¡±


    ¡°Are you talking about the call that Ellis got?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Olivia isn¡¯t planning on asking Ellis, is she?¡±


    Rall had made it sound more like an assumption than a question, but I thought I could hear a small note of hope clinging to the edge of the words. After all, there was a chance, even if it was a tiny one, that he was wrong.


    I hated to be the one to squash a hope, and the smaller it was, the worse I felt doing it, but I didn¡¯t believe in lying either. Not about something like that.


    I shook my head.


    Rall¡¯s mouth twitched back in a sad, I-knew-it smile.


    I said, ¡°Would Ellis tell her anything if she did ask?¡±


    ¡°No, probably not,¡± he said. ¡°Ellis likes to play a close hand. She¡¯s very independent, and there are few things she can¡¯t handle.¡±


    I thought about that for a second. ¡°Is one of them Olivia?¡±


    Rall nodded.


    ¡°Would Ellis be angry if she knew that Olivia was asking around?¡±


    ¡°About Mr. Kirby? I doubt she¡¯d care. But if she felt that Olivia was trying to butt into coven business, that might cause some sparks.¡± He shrugged. Sparks were probably business as usual where those two were concerned.


    ¡°What if Olivia explained that the only reason she was asking was because she was looking for her friend?¡±


    Rall faintly shook his head.


    My stomach sank. ¡°Is it that hopeless?¡±


    ¡°Hopeless? I wouldn¡¯t go that far. But the first hurdle would be the worst. We¡¯d have to convince them to talk to each other.¡± Rall stood up and grabbed his bowl and spoon. ¡°If I¡¯m going to make it out to my morning walk, I¡¯d better try to get some more sleep.¡±


    I picked up my own dishes and followed him to the sink. We rinsed them, put them with the small stack of dishes waiting for the dishwasher to be emptied, and walked back up the stairs.


    With every step, my nerves jangled more and more. The unease built until my stomach felt like a stone. I decided I had to say something.


    ¡°R-rall,¡± I stuttered, ¡°would you mind trying to keep this from Olivia for a while?¡±


    ¡°You mean the fact that I¡¯m helping?¡±


    ¡°More like the fact that I asked for your help. I mean¡±¡ªI forced myself to shrug¡ª¡°she¡¯ll probably figure it out pretty quickly, but¡­for now¡­¡±


    ¡°That won¡¯t be a problem. I can be as cryptic and as stealthy as a ninja.¡±


    I amused myself by imagining Rall Axton, all dressed up in full ninja gear, creeping around the roofs of Craftborough. That would certainly embarrass Olivia.


    ¡°Is there a reason you¡¯d rather I didn¡¯t tell her?¡± Rall asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if she¡¯d approve, and I¡¯d rather not have her any angrier at me than necessary.¡±


    ¡°Do you think she would be angry?¡±


    I sighed. ¡°I think most of the things I do make her angry.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± Rall reached out and clapped a hand on my shoulder. ¡°That makes you practically one of the family.¡±

 Chapter 16 - Coven Headquarters

    Rall¡¯s ninja campaign started later that morning. I had to give him minus ten points for not being in full costume, and another minus ten for using the ludicrously unstealthy technique of knocking on my door at six in the morning.


    On the other hand, he did earn extra points in the mysterious category.


    Even after he gave me the message, I still couldn¡¯t understand what he was after.


    I rubbed my eyes. ¡°Huh?¡±


    He repeated, ¡°I thought that Olivia might want to know that her mother¡¯s home now, safe and sound.¡±


    By that time the squirrels that ran my brain were mostly up and moving on their wheels (even if they were still staggering around a bit). Despite that, everything was still coming up blank.


    Did he think that their relationship had suddenly improved enough that Olivia might actually worry about her mother?


    I glanced at the bed.


    Olivia had stolen my pillow, crammed it over her face, and rolled away from the door. She didn¡¯t look worried.


    I turned back to Rall. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to tell her.¡±


    ¡°Soon?¡±


    My head bobbed in a sleepy nod. ¡°Yes, yes. Of course.¡±


    I meant it. I didn¡¯t see why I should be the only one awake.


    Rall waved goodbye and walked away. I shut the door, stumbled over to the bed, stole my pillow back from Olivia, and flopped down on the mattress. Thank god, the blankets were still warm.


    ¡°Your mother¡¯s home.¡± I grumbled loudly to make sure Olivia could hear me.


    ¡°You think I care?¡± she grumbled back, less loudly.


    I cuddled into the pocket of my body heat. ¡°Not at this hour. It¡¯s hard to care about much before breakfast.¡±


    A few seconds passed.


    ¡°What time is it?¡± Olivia asked.


    I thought about reminding her that she had her own stupid phone, but there was enough compassion left in my sleepy heart that I decided to spare her from the agony of purposefully shining a light in her eyes when, by all rights, they should¡¯ve been closed.


    I wished someone had spared me.


    ¡°It¡¯s five fifty-eight or something,¡± I said. ¡°Almost six.¡±


    I felt Olivia sit up in bed. That did not bode well.


    ¡°And mother¡¯s home?¡± She wasn¡¯t grumbling anymore. Her voice was clear.


    That really didn¡¯t bode well.


    ¡°That¡¯s what your father said,¡± I grumbled.


    Olivia flung off the blankets, exposing my back to a line of cold, and stood up. ¡°Get up, Emerra. It¡¯s time to leave.¡±


    ¡°Now?¡± I groaned.


    ¡°Now. I¡¯ll get Jacky. You start getting dressed. Dress warm. We¡¯re going to be walking.¡±


    The shock was enough to get me to sit up. ¡°Are you serious? Why?¡±


    ¡°Because my mother¡¯s home.¡±


    She left me alone in the room, still blinking at the empty doorway.


    Ten minutes later, we were walking down the frozen sidewalk on a dismal February morning while Olivia explained the situation to Big Jacky.


    ¡°Something happened last night at one of the coven buildings, and mother would never leave unless everything was taken care of. If she¡¯s home, that means that the building is empty.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll accept the fact that you know more about your mother than I do,¡± Jacky said, ¡°but what does that have to do with what we¡¯re doing?¡±


    ¡°If the building¡¯s empty, that means we have two hours to look around before the first workers start showing up around eight.¡±


    ¡°Olivia, are you convinced the events of last night have something to do with Kirby?¡±


    ¡°This is Craftborough! Nothing ever happens here. A witch blows up their workshop every once in a while¡ªthat¡¯s all!¡±


    I silently marveled at how some people¡¯s ¡°nothing¡± could deviate so far from the dictionary definition, but I guess that¡¯s what overexposure to witchcraft will do to you.


    She continued, ¡°If two suspicious things are happening at the same time, they have to be related.¡±


    ¡°Probably,¡± Jacky said.


    When Olivia and I glanced at him, Jacky clarified.


    ¡°I believe you meant to say that they were ¡®probably¡¯ related. The statement was an assumption. It should be framed as one.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°You think I¡¯m wrong?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡ªwhich is often the case when you¡¯re dealing with assumptions.¡±


    There are few things in the world more satisfying than watching Jacky annoy Olivia. Since he¡¯s her master, she can¡¯t talk back, and having to resist the urge brought a lovely vermilion shade to her cheeks.


    ¡°It sounds like a pretty good assumption to me,¡± I assured her, ¡°but why did we have to walk?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s only thirteen minutes away,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°And if we¡¯d driven, it would have been less than five minutes away. More time to snoop.¡±


    I thought that was pretty good logic coming from a bunch of sleep-deprived squirrels.


    Olivia said, ¡°No one drives in Craftborough unless it¡¯s to the grocery store.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re appealing to tradition?¡± I said.


    That offended me and my squirrels. There¡¯s only so much hypocrisy a person can stand, and I liked to reserve most of it for myself.


    Olivia gave me a hard look. ¡°No one drives in Craftborough, meaning cars stand out here. Especially unfamiliar cars sitting alone in an empty parking lot.¡±


    Oh.


    In the morning silence, our footsteps created an odd, arrhythmic beat that followed us down the empty street.


    ¡°Olivia,¡± I said, ¡°what was that phrase you used yesterday?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± she said.


    ¡®As blind as a witch?¡¯¡± I said it quietly, probing her mood, hoping it wouldn¡¯t upset her too much.


    To my surprise, Olivia smiled. ¡°It was something Kirby used to say to me.¡±


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Kirby?¡±


    That was more surprising than the smile. Kirby wasn¡¯t supposed to be an initiate; Olivia shouldn¡¯t have been talking to him about her magic or her lack of talent.


    ¡°What does it mean?¡± Big Jacky asked.


    Olivia¡¯s eyes rose to the blanket of gray clouds that was hiding the first hints of the sunrise. They glowed around the edges.


    She said, ¡°Sometimes people can be so set in their ways, or¡­or how they think¡ª¡±


    ¡°Mental habits,¡± I said.


    Olivia latched onto the phrase. ¡°Yes! Mental habits. We can have such deep mental habits that it changes how we see things. Or maybe we can¡¯t see things because we¡¯re living too much in our head.¡±


    Jacky said, ¡°Surely you can¡¯t live¡ª¡±


    I interrupted him: ¡°She means that we pay more attention to our own thoughts than the world around us.¡±


    ¡°Ah. I see.¡± Jacky paused. ¡°And Kirby would accuse you of this?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t just me!¡± Olivia said.


    I smiled when I heard her indignation.


    She went on, ¡°It¡¯s a problem for a lot of people.¡±


    ¡°Especially witches?¡± Jacky asked.


    Olivia nodded. ¡°It became this joke between the two of us. Whenever we missed something obvious, we were as blind as a witch.¡±


    Kirby knew a lot of people from Saufgrove. Even if he wasn¡¯t an initiate, he probably knew they called themselves witches. He could¡¯ve easily coined the phrase without Olivia ever telling him about her lack of talent.


    But she hadn¡¯t told me either. Was that because she didn¡¯t want people to know?


    The way Rall had talked made it sound like her condition would be obvious to most magicians, and I doubted they¡¯d be rude enough to press her for details. Maybe she was used to people simply knowing.


    Or maybe she preferred not to talk about it.


    With wisdom foreign to my essential nature, I decided to keep quiet.


    We arrived at coven headquarters. Olivia had been right about it being empty. All the windows were dark, and the parking lot was barren. Two antique style lanterns kept the front doors well lit, but Olivia took us around to the side of the building.


    As we turned the corner, I whispered, ¡°Are we breaking in?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no ward,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°There was no ward around Kirby¡¯s shop either. Does it only count as breaking in if there¡¯s a ward?¡±


    Olivia turned to glare at me.


    I threw my hands up in a shrug. ¡°How would I know the rules for living in Witch Central?¡±


    She turned and kept walking. ¡°I only want to look around. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m going to trash the place. We¡¯ll figure out what happened last night, decide if it might have something to do with Kirby¡¯s kidnapping, and get out of there. Since there¡¯s no ward, we can get in and out without anyone knowing we were here.¡±


    ¡°Would a ward stop Jacky?¡±


    Olivia stopped so suddenly, I almost walked into her. She said in a voice of pure wonder, ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    We both turned to look at Jack Noctis.


    ¡°What?¡± he said.


    ¡°Can you get through wards?¡± Olivia asked.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been stopped by one yet.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s a yes?¡± I said.


    Big Jacky turned his skull toward me. Even without a facial expression, he managed to radiate disapproval at my sloppy thinking. ¡°I haven¡¯t walked through all the wards in the world, Emerra.¡±


    ¡°Right. Forget about the wards. Are you willing to help us get through this door?¡±


    It¡¯d be tricky to avoid the ¡°breaking¡± part of ¡°breaking in¡± if Jacky was in the mood to display his scruples.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said.


    I blinked. ¡°I don¡¯t have to talk you into it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why we broke in yesterday¡ªto get certainty. Now we have good reason to believe there¡¯s a crime behind all this and a man¡¯s life is in danger¡ª¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Olivia snapped. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but I thought she looked pale.


    Jacky was silent for a moment. ¡°Olivia, Nolan Kirby is alive, but I can¡¯t say how long that may remain true. Until we understand why he was taken, and why he hasn¡¯t been killed, we must accept the idea that he could be in danger.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s gloved hands curled into fists, and a dusting of purple light specks glowed against her black cape.


    I¡¯d only seen something like that when she was working her magic.


    ¡°Olivia,¡± I whispered, ¡°are you doing something?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Her head whipped around. ¡°No.¡± The purple dust settled and disappeared. ¡°Come on.¡±


    She led us to a nondescript entry tucked in the middle of the side wall. Jacky took a hand from each of us and escorted us through the locked door.


    Once we were through, we stood in the hall and looked around.


    ¡°What are we supposed to be looking for?¡± I asked.


    If the answer was ¡°darkness,¡± I had us covered.


    ¡°You, look for magic,¡± Olivia said. ¡°Jacky and I will keep our eyes open for any other clues.¡± She held up her hand, and a steady blue light shone from her palm.


    I nodded to her handy (Ha! Handy!) magical flashlight. ¡°Won¡¯t someone be able to sense that?¡±


    ¡°Only if they were here. It doesn¡¯t leave traces.¡±


    ¡°Do we need to worry about cameras?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No.¡± She started down the hall.


    ¡°Wait. You¡¯re telling me, there are no cameras¡­at all?¡±


    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t waste the money. Who¡¯d be stupid enough to break into the headquarters for the coven.¡±


    ¡°You mean besides us?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t count.¡±


    A faint sense of unease filled me, pouring up from my toes to my head. I looked at Jacky.


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s the blindness of witches,¡± he said.


    Considering it was Jack Noctis talking, he showed an impressive amount of restraint by failing to specify whether he was thinking of Olivia or the rest of the coven.


    When our quick walk-through of the main rooms revealed nothing, my unease grew until my nerves were fairly quivering with indignation, like some psychotic chihuahua. If Ellis Oliversen only went home after everything was taken care of, why did Olivia think there¡¯d be anything left to find? And if only idiots like us were dumb enough to break into coven headquarters, that meant we were making a lot of assumptions about the relative intelligence of Kirby¡¯s kidnapper.


    One glance at Olivia¡¯s tight, strained expression was all it took for me to decide to keep my concerns to myself. If someone had kidnapped one of my friends, there¡¯d probably be no end to the stupid chances I¡¯d take if I thought it might get them back.


    We stopped outside the largest office on the fifth floor. The name plate said ¡°Ellis Oliversen.¡± There was no title. Presumably, if you¡¯d gotten that far, you knew who she was.


    ¡°Jacky,¡± Olivia whispered.


    Jacky took our hands again and led us through the door.


    The office on the other side was spacious. Art hung on the walls between the bookshelves, a tasteful rug covered most of the dark wood floor, and three windows, arrayed along the wall behind the desk, looked out over the park in front of the town buildings. The sun was well up by that time, but it was still tucked behind the clouds. The diffused light made the snow glow yellow and blue.


    Most of the room was the kind of clean that I¡¯d come to associate with Ellis Oliversen. It felt sterile and aloof. If you saw something, it was because you¡¯d been allowed to see it.


    Which is probably why the open folder and scattered pile of papers laying on her desk stood out so much.


    Olivia honed in on them. Jacky trailed after her while I peered around the room, checking for magic, before joining them.


    ¡°It¡¯s a list,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°Is it important?¡± Jacky asked.


    Olivia picked up a piece of paper and held it close so she could read it by the light of her hand. ¡°It must be. Mother doesn¡¯t leave things out, so this has to be about last night.¡±


    I was close enough now that I could read over her shoulder.


    ¡°Do you recognize any names?¡± Jacky asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Olivia said.


    The whole list seemed to be nothing but names. I flipped through the three pages still on the desk to confirm it. It looked as if someone had printed out a list from a program that was never intended to create printed lists, and they hadn¡¯t bothered to fix the formatting. The names were spread over the page with unnecessarily wide gaps. Beside each name was a small check mark written in pencil.


    The name Oliversen kept popping up, commanding my attention.


    ¡°Is this your family tree or something?¡± I asked.


    ¡°These are the most famous witches in the history of the coven,¡± Olivia said.


    My brow crinkled. ¡°You mean the mistresses?¡±


    Olivia put down the paper she was holding and spread out the others. ¡°The mistresses are on here, but it isn¡¯t just them. She pointed to a name near the top of a page. ¡°River Bishop served under Mistress Grace Oliversen.¡±


    Grace was the last in a long line of middle names.


    My voice rose in surprise. ¡°You know the name of a witch that was alive a hundred and fifty years ago?¡±


    Olivia shushed me. In a whisper she added, ¡°I said ¡®famous,¡¯ Emerra. Do you need me to define it for you?¡±


    ¡°So your mother gets an emergency call at three in the morning and rushes over to coven headquarters to review a list of famous witches?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s unlikely to be merely a list of famous witches,¡± Jacky said while gazing at the names.


    Olivia and I stared at him.


    When Jacky finally felt the combined weight of our eyes, he raised his skull, moving it this way and that so his empty eye-sockets could take in both of us.


    He straightened up and said, ¡°I¡¯ve been forced to look over many lists that included nothing but the names of famous magicians. None of them were a list of famous magicians.¡±


    ¡°Um, Jacky¡­¡± My voice trailed off.


    How does one explain the concept of ¡°nonsense¡± to death?


    He continued, ¡°They were all lists delineating a specific group that happened to be composed of famous magicians.¡±


    I decided to start with the concept of ¡°poppycock¡± and work my way up to ¡°balderdash.¡±


    ¡°For example,¡± Jacky said, ¡°the last list I read included all of the attendees invited to the Torr¡¯s annual world conference.¡±


    There was a second of silence, followed by the furious sound of paper rustling as Olivia and I bent over the desk.


    ¡°We have to find out where this list came from,¡± she said.


    We both froze when we heard the footsteps in the hall. My eyes flew to the door in time to see the knob twitch when someone inserted a key.


    I grabbed onto Jacky¡¯s sleeve so he¡¯d look at me. I spoke rapidly, under my breath: ¡°Go back to Olivia¡¯s house.¡±


    Jacky said, ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°Go back there right now, and if anyone asks, tell them that you¡¯ve been in your room the whole time.¡±


    Jacky¡¯s skull dipped once, then he disappeared. I was left holding nothing but air.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Olivia hissed. Her eyes were wide. ¡°We can¡¯t get out of here without him!¡±


    I grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the desk, toward one of the bookshelves. ¡°Whether he¡¯s here or not, we can¡¯t get out of this room without being seen, but if he¡¯s at home, at least someone in our group can pretend to be respectable. Now try to look casual!¡±


    By the time the lights clicked on, I was leaning against the bookshelf, my arms crossed and a manic grin plastered on my face. Olivia was bent over the books with her finger extended so it¡¯d be obvious to anyone who happened to glance her way that she¡¯d been interrupted while perusing the literature.


    When I saw who it was, I forced a laugh. ¡°Oh! Hey! Good morning, Officer Ansel. Fancy meeting you here!¡±

 Chapter 17 - In Custody

    Olivia and I were sitting in the police station, across from Officer Ansel.


    On the plus side, we weren¡¯t in handcuffs, we weren¡¯t behind bars, and she hadn¡¯t written anything down. That last one really cheered me up. I knew from hanging out with Darius that when a member of law enforcement is about to do something legal-like, it requires a lot of paperwork.


    She had dragged us into her office, told us to sit down, went behind her desk, sat in her own chair, leaned back, and rested her hands in her lap. Then she listened as Olivia and I stuttered out a semi-plausible story.


    On the minus side, she was frowning. Throughout our frantic improv, her expression never changed. Only her eyes moved to gaze at whichever one of us was speaking.


    There was a long uncomfortable silence when we finished. It was broken by the teeth-grindingly loud squeak the office chair let out when Ansel leaned forward to put her arms on her desk.


    ¡°Let me get this straight,¡± she said. ¡°You went out at six in the morning to look for a book your mother keeps at coven headquarters. The door you used to get in was unlocked, and you have no idea how it got locked after you came in. The door to your mother¡¯s office was unlocked, even though she never leaves it unlocked¡ª¡±


    ¡°Uh-uh!¡± I raised a finger. ¡°You don¡¯t know that. You know she usually doesn¡¯t leave it unlocked.¡±


    There was a shorter uncomfortable silence.


    Ansel turned to Olivia and went on like I hadn¡¯t spoken: ¡°And you were looking for this book in the dark¡­why, exactly?¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t find the light switch,¡± Olivia said.


    The two of them enjoyed an extended staring contest. The competitors were evenly matched in both steeliness of eyes and hardness of soul. Commentators were split on who was most likely to win.


    They both looked away. Time must have been called without a winner.


    ¡°I have to say, Miss Oliversen,¡± Ansel said, ¡°I never expected to be in a situation like this with you.¡±


    ¡°Why? I borrow lots of books.¡±


    Ansel glared for a moment, but declined the invitation for a rematch.


    She said, ¡°When I called your mother, she was in the shower, but I have no doubt she¡¯ll be here shortly. We¡¯ll hear what she has to say.¡±


    From the corner of my eye, I saw Olivia pale. There was a set to her jaw and a tension in her arms that made it look as if she was bracing herself to take on the whole world at once.


    Yup. We were screwed.


    That meant I had only a few minutes before my chances of getting useful information from that particular police officer went from pitifully minuscule to absolute zero.


    Ansel stood up and motioned for us to follow her.


    As we left her office and went back to the police station¡¯s main room, I said, ¡°Officer Ansel, I have a question.¡±


    She said, ¡°I¡¯ll decide if I¡¯m going to charge you and what I¡¯ll charge you with when I hear what Mistress Oliversen has to say.¡±


    Ansel motioned to the row of four chairs lined up by the entryway door. Their wobbly chrome legs and appalling padding made it look as if they¡¯d been stolen from the set of a modern-industrial horror movie.


    I decided to remain standing.


    ¡°No, no¡ªthat¡¯s not it,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m wondering if there¡¯s been a rise in crime lately.¡±


    ¡°Now you¡¯re trying to convince me that you¡¯re some kind of professional detective?¡± Ansel said.


    ¡°Nope! I¡¯m a really obnoxious amateur.¡±


    She studied me for a moment, then turned to Olivia. ¡°Is she telling the truth?¡±


    ¡°About how obnoxious she is?¡± Olivia rolled her eyes and sat down on one of the torture chairs. ¡°Oh my god. You have no idea.¡±


    ¡°About that rise in crime,¡± I prompted.


    Ansel picked up her mug from the empty desk and walked over to the corner of the room. Some thoughtful designer had hidden a miniature break counter there, complete with a coffee pot. ¡°I recently caught two teenagers breaking into coven headquarters.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± I pointed at her. ¡°That¡¯s allegedly breaking in, and I¡¯ll have you know, I¡¯m twenty.¡±


    ¡°So you can be tried as an adult?¡± She poured herself a cup of coffee.


    My mind did some furious backpedaling. ¡°Uhhhh¡­I¡¯m a stupid twenty?¡±


    She returned the pot to the warming plate and turned to us. ¡°Miss Cole, that¡¯s the first thing you¡¯ve said all morning that I find readily believable.¡±


    Ansel walked past us, over to the empty desk, and hoisted herself up to sit on the edge. She took a sip of coffee, then said, ¡°Why do you want to know about a rise in crime?¡±


    For a moment, I didn¡¯t answer. I thought about secrets, what we hold back from people, and how Rall Axton generally found that communication works better.


    ¡°It¡¯s about Nolan Kirby,¡± I said.


    Olivia¡¯s head jerked up to stare at me.


    I went on, ¡°There isn¡¯t a lot of crime in this town, so we figured you¡¯d hear about it if anything was happening, and if the people who took Kirby are still around, they might be involved in, you know¡­other crimes.¡±


    Ansel studied me as she took another sip of coffee, then she lowered the mug until it was resting on the leg she¡¯d brought up to her knee.


    ¡°That¡¯s a complex question, Miss Cole.¡±


    ¡°Oh, please.¡± I waved away her formality. ¡°You¡¯re an inch away from arresting me. You can call me Emerra.¡±


    ¡°All right, Emerra. Do you know how big the Besom Days Festival can get?¡±


    I shook my head.


    ¡°On a big year, almost six hundred people come in from out of town. That nearly doubles the population. They start pouring in a week or two early, trying to find a good place to stay before the festival begins. And not all of them are magicians. That means that, for at least two weeks, my job has included reminding residents and visiting witches that secrecy laws still apply in Craftborough. Have I been getting more calls? Yes. Have I been taking more reports? Yes. Has there been a rise in crime?¡± Ansel shrugged. ¡°It¡¯ll take at least a month to sort out that kind of information.¡±


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    ¡°But there¡¯s been nothing big?¡± Olivia asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Ansel said.


    ¡°Does the coven usually ask for extra security around the festival?¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t have to ask. I¡¯d have to be break-into-coven-headquarters stupid not to anticipate that I¡¯d need help.¡±


    Olivia sat forward on her chair. ¡°But she did.¡±


    ¡°Who did what?¡± Ansel raised her mug to her mouth.


    ¡°Last time we were here, you asked me to tell my mother that you¡¯d already made arrangements for extra security.¡±


    Ansel took an overly long sip of coffee. Either she was stalling for time, or that cup was bottomless.


    Of course, she was a witch¡­


    But if the cup was bottomless, why would she need to refill it?


    She lowered the mug. ¡°I think I¡¯ll let you ask your mother about that. Are there any other questions?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Can you enchant a mug to keep an infinite beverage warm?¡±


    I was treated to a dual set of strange looks from Ansel and Olivia, but it was interrupted by a loud ding! from the entryway.


    ¡°That would be your mother.¡± Ansel put the mug down on the desk and went to buzz her in.


    Ellis Oliversen came in looking like a million-dollar ice sculpture. No doubt her clothes were expensive, but it was the cold look of power and patience on her face that made her priceless. She didn¡¯t glance at me or Olivia. Instead, she walked up to Ansel, her high-heeled boots clicking with every step.


    ¡°Good morning, Ansel,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I missed your call, but my husband gave me your message. Is there a problem?¡±


    Ansel¡¯s eyes might have narrowed a fraction of an inch for a fraction of a second. ¡°That depends, Mistress Oliversen,¡± she said slowly. ¡°Rall probably told you¡ªwhen I went to return your keys this morning, I found Olivia and Emerra in your office. They claim that they were there with your permission. Is that true?¡±


    My whole body clenched, waiting for the ax to fall.


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s true.¡±


    Everything stopped. I wasn¡¯t breathing, wasn¡¯t moving. Heck¡ªmy heart had probably stopped beating so that my ears could strain to their utmost on the off-chance that they might get to hear Ellis Oliversen¡¯s unimaginable answer again.


    Officer Ansel¡¯s eyes lingered on Ellis¡¯s impassive face. ¡°How did they get in?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Was there any sign of a break in?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Was there any trace of magic?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then one of the doors must have been left unlocked. I¡¯ll have to talk to someone about that when I go in today.¡±


    ¡°How did they get into your office?¡±


    ¡°I must have left that unlocked as well.¡±


    ¡°I had your keys, Mistress.¡±


    ¡°Did you check to see if the door was unlocked before you put them in?¡±


    Ansel¡¯s frown was so slight, I would¡¯ve missed it if I hadn¡¯t been watching her face like my second life depended on it.


    ¡°No,¡± she admitted.


    ¡°There you have it,¡± Ellis said.


    ¡°And the book Olivia was supposedly borrowing?¡±


    ¡°What about it?¡±


    ¡°Do you remember the name of it?¡±


    ¡°Ansel, I¡¯m not even sure I bothered asking for it. It¡¯s been a long morning. Now, if you have no other questions, I¡¯d like to take Olivia and her friend home.¡±


    Officer Ansel¡¯s eyes lingered on me and Olivia. Maybe she was waiting for us to ask to be put in protective custody. God knows, I was tempted.


    When neither of us said anything, Ansel turned to pick up her abandoned coffee. ¡°I¡¯m sure I apologize for the mix up,¡± she said. Her voice was flat and emotionless.


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Mrs. Oliversen said. ¡°I appreciate you working so hard to do your duty.¡± Ellis turned and strode back to the door. ¡°Come along, Olivia.¡±


    She still hadn¡¯t looked at either of us. Olivia reluctantly got to her feet and stood beside her mother. I took my place behind them.


    Ansel buzzed us out. We crossed the chilly entryway and went out into the cold morning. A sharp blast of wind struck me before I could zip up my coat. I sucked in a breath and clutched it around me. Ellis¡¯s unbuttoned coat flew back behind her like a cloak, but her pace never wavered. The wind would have to be a lot more powerful before it could bother her. She walked over to a black sedan parked nearby.


    Ellis opened the driver¡¯s door. ¡°Get in the car, Olivia.¡±


    Olivia stopped a few feet away. I managed to stay behind her. You can call me a coward, but I liked the idea of having something between me and Mrs. Oliversen.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather walk,¡± Olivia said.


    Ellis Oliversen finally looked at her daughter. Her eyes were knives. ¡°Get in the car.¡±


    Olivia and I obeyed. We crawled into the backseat and put on our seat belts.


    Ellis pulled out of the lot, drove for a minute, pulled off the main street, and parked. She turned off the car and gazed out the front windshield at the empty black road and the motionless gray neighborhood.


    When she spoke, her words clinked together, quietly, like one chip of ice falling on another. ¡°Well, Olivia, that¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve ever had to lie to a policeman. Are you still proud of yourself?¡±


    Olivia didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°How did you get into the building?¡±


    Olivia still said nothing.


    That was problematic. Mrs. Oliversen¡¯s second question hadn¡¯t been rhetorical, which meant one of us would have to answer, and I was busy trying to prove there was a connection between being mute and being invisible.


    Ellis suddenly turned. She put her hand on the back of the seat beside her to pull herself around far enough she could see her daughter.


    ¡°Do you think this is a joke?¡± Ellis said.


    Olivia pressed her lips together.


    ¡°Answer me!¡±


    ¡°Do you hear me laughing?¡± Olivia said.


    My soul curled up with a silent groan. Someone really needed to teach that girl the concept of ¡°a time and a place.¡±


    A flush of red rose under Ellis¡¯s immaculate makeup. Her face became stiffer¡ªa feat I wouldn¡¯t have believed possible moments before.


    She managed to unlock her jaw enough to ask, ¡°Have you figured out a way to cast magic on an object that doesn¡¯t leave a trace?¡±


    Olivia narrowed her eyes and her brow furrowed. ¡°You think I used magic to open the lock?¡±


    ¡°Did you?¡±


    Olivia¡¯s expression turned sour. Her eyes rose to the roof of the car, and she faintly shook her head. ¡°You know, I¡¯m actually flattered. I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d ever give me that much credit.¡±


    Ellis raised her voice: ¡°This is important, Olivia Lauren! Tell me the truth or I will make you tell me the truth.¡±


    ¡°You know the truth, Mother! The most talented witch alive couldn¡¯t do that! But you think I can? For god¡¯s sake, I can¡¯t even feel an object out without leaving traces!¡±


    ¡°Then how did you get into the building?¡±


    ¡°You said it yourself¡ªthere was no sign of a break-in and no trace of magic. Someone must have left a door unlocked.¡±


    Ellis¡¯s icy mask broke. Various muscles on her face twitched with suppressed rage. When she managed to speak, her voice was tight and quiet. ¡°You¡¯re right. I didn¡¯t give you enough credit¡ªI thought that, surely, even you would have some limits. But, no.¡± She pointed at her daughter¡¯s face. ¡°You¡¯ve shamed me, shamed our family, and shamed your master. I have more than half a mind to tell you to pack your bags and leave¡ª¡±


    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you? Huh?¡± Olivia yelled. ¡°The votes are in! The majority carries the day! Why don¡¯t you tell me to leave?¡±


    Ellis yelled back at her, ¡°Because your father hasn¡¯t seen or heard from you in a year, Olivia! I know you don¡¯t have it in your heart to care about me or Nylah, but I thought you might spare a thought for him!¡±


    Olivia looked as if someone had slapped her. There was the stunned, cold, blank stare, then her cheeks went red.


    Ellis turned around and started the car. ¡°What were you doing in my office? And don¡¯t you dare feed me some bullshit about a book.¡±


    Olivia swallowed. Her mouth opened, but she had to swallow again before she could say, ¡°I wanted to know what happened this morning. That call you got¡ª¡±


    ¡°Is that what this is about?¡±


    If anything, Ellis sounded angrier than before. She put a hand to her head and pressed the tips of her fingers into her forehead.


    Olivia charged on: ¡°I heard you talking to Nylah. You said that someone had broken in¡ª¡±


    Ellis raised her voice to talk over her daughter. ¡°For that you ruined your reputation and humiliated us? Take care of your own business, Olivia Oliversen¡ªlet me take care of mine!¡±


    ¡°Something¡¯s happening in this town!¡±


    ¡°My god! You want to know what happened?¡± Mrs. Oliversen slammed on her blinker hard enough I worried she might break the stick. She pulled out onto the road and said¡ªnot quite yelling, but not quite not¡ª¡°One of the wardsmen thought she felt something. We went to check it out. There was no one there, all the wards were intact, nothing had been disturbed. It was a false alarm. You want to know about trouble in town, but the only trouble I¡¯ve had all week has been because of you!¡±


    Olivia¡¯s whole body went rigid. A second later, she managed a weak nod. It went on for a while, never growing any stronger.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Her voice came out husky. She forced herself to be louder. ¡°And how¡¯s that any different from normal?¡±


    This time it was Ellis who didn¡¯t answer.


    We drove back to the Oliversen¡¯s house in silence. The one time I was brave enough to look at Olivia, she had her face turned toward the window. I could still see the thick tear track running down her cheek.

 Chapter 18 - ARC Hall

    Breakfast was rough. Olivia and Ellis weren¡¯t talking, and their eyes never strayed anywhere near the other, yet they still managed to pretend, along with everyone else, that nothing had happened. It was the politeness of knives. I got the feeling that everything would be all right as long as I didn¡¯t do something silly¡ªlike breathe too deep or move when I didn¡¯t have to.


    When Ellis left for work, Rall excused himself from the table so he could say goodbye to her at the door.


    Olivia and I were left alone with Nylah.


    ¡°What did you do this time, Olivia?¡± Nylah demanded.


    ¡°Why would I tell you?¡± Olivia asked.


    Nylah stood up abruptly. On her way to the door, she paused by Olivia¡¯s chair and said in a low, angry whisper, ¡°Can¡¯t you leave mother alone for once in your goddamn life? Do you have to be such a pain?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll be gone soon. Then you can have your perfect life back.¡± Olivia looked up at her sister. ¡°Isn¡¯t that what you want?¡±


    Nylah¡¯s top lip twitched, as if she was tempted to sneer. An emotion moved behind her face. It reminded me of a heavy velvet curtain rolling in loose waves. There was a sense of dark blue and depth.


    She left.


    I pressed the back of my hand up to my eyes, one after the other, trying to rub away the feeling of seeing things that I shouldn¡¯t be able to see.


    ¡°I need more coffee,¡± I whispered to myself.


    When I opened my eyes, Olivia had the urn in her hand. She poured a hot layer of coffee into my tepid cup and nudged the sugar bowl closer.


    Olivia glanced up when I didn¡¯t move and saw the look of wonder and surprise that I¡¯m sure lit up my face like a blaring neon sign.


    Her lips twisted up on one side, her nose wrinkled up, and her brow furrowed. I¡¯d seen that look once or twice before; if you took a scowl and added a heavy dash of someone grumbling ¡°yeah, yeah,¡± that would almost cover it.


    Dare I say, it made her look kind of cute?


    Certainly not out loud.


    ¡°Thank you, Olivia,¡± I said.


    She shook her head, quick, as if my thanks were nothing but an annoying bug that landed on her hair.


    I reached out and started adding some sugar to my coffee.


    ¡°You¡¯re rubbing your eyes again,¡± Olivia said. ¡°Did you see something?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± I took a sip, then gazed at the pale reflection of the inside rim of my white mug shining off the dark coffee. ¡°I¡¯ve been¡­feeling things¡­lately. It¡¯s like seeing them, but I¡­can¡¯t.¡±


    That line was lame, even by my low conversational standards, and almost as clear as a bottle of ink.


    In an effort to redeem myself, I said, ¡°I thought I saw something in Nylah¡¯s face a moment ago. Some kind of emotion.¡± I added in a mumble, ¡°It makes my head hurt.¡±


    I took another sip.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have chosen you,¡± Olivia said.


    That was the sort of loving endorsement I¡¯d come to expect from her, but I raised my eyes, hoping I might be able to figure out what had brought it on this time.


    She stared at her half-finished toast. When she shrugged, it barely moved her shoulders. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have chosen anyone. But Kirby means a lot to me.¡± She took a deep breath and looked right in my eyes. ¡°So this is my family. Now you know.¡±


    There was a sharp clink as I put my coffee cup down in its saucer. ¡°Olivia, I don¡¯t care what your family is like.¡±


    But I did care. A lot. Anyone could¡¯ve heard it pouring into my protest until it spilled over the top of the words, turning them into a big fat lie. I wasn¡¯t trying to be dishonest, but I didn¡¯t know how to explain it¡ªwhy her family mattered, and why it didn¡¯t.


    Olivia watched my face for a second, then stood up and turned. ¡°I have to go check on a few things.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going out again, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Her voice was brimming with contempt for the fact I felt the need to ask. She disappeared out the door.


    ¡°Attagirl,¡± I whispered to my coffee.


    Rall stopped by when he saw I was alone in the dining room. He informed me that his walking buddies hadn¡¯t heard anything, but they promised they¡¯d ask around.


    ¡°What about you?¡± he said, ¡°Did you learn anything?¡±


    ¡°Officer Ansel doesn¡¯t like paperwork,¡± I said.


    ¡°Ah.¡± He smiled. ¡°Few people do, you know.¡±


    An hour later, I was back in my winter coat, walking beside Jacky and Olivia. As always, Olivia was thrilled to have me.


    ¡°I told you they won¡¯t let you in,¡± she said.


    ¡°But they¡¯ll let in Jacky?¡± I said. ¡°That doesn¡¯t seem fair.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Noctis is my mentor and a torrman. You¡¯re just overly inquisitive!¡±


    I pointed at her with both index fingers. ¡°That¡¯s why you brought me!¡±


    She rolled her eyes.


    ¡°If you keep doing that,¡± I said, ¡°one day they¡¯re going to roll around so far you¡¯ll be able to see your own brain.¡±


    ¡°Maybe then I¡¯ll know what I was thinking when I invited you,¡± she said.


    ¡°Oh-ho! Good one.¡±


    The edge of her lips almost twitched. Almost.


    I tucked my hands deep in my coat pockets. Why hadn¡¯t I been smart enough to pack my mittens? Or my hat? ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll look around outside and see if I can spot anything from there. I won¡¯t get in trouble for that, will I?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t put it past you.¡±


    ¡°How come they won¡¯t let me into this hall anyway?¡±


    Jacky said, ¡°This library is of particular importance to the coven. They¡¯re careful who they allow inside. You would need either a special invitation or a card from the Torr that identifies you.¡±


    ¡°Do I have one of those?¡±


    I had to ask. It¡¯d only been two or three weeks ago that Darius had come up and handed me a fancy, heavy-duty faux-leather pocket folder that contained a driver¡¯s license, a passport, and a bunch of other official looking documents.


    I¡¯d pointed to the passport and driver¡¯s license. ¡°Are these real?¡±


    ¡°They aren¡¯t forgeries, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking,¡± Darius said.


    I flipped through the documents, then looked up at the count. ¡°I don¡¯t see a birth certificate.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t find your death certificate in there either. As far as the government is concerned, that Emerra Cole is six feet underground.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯m a different Emerra Cole that happens to have the exact same birthday and fingerprints as the dead Emerra Cole?¡±


    ¡°Birthday, yes. Fingerprints, no.¡±


    ¡°You changed my fingerprints?¡±


    ¡°No, we changed the dead Emerra¡¯s fingerprints. It¡¯s always easier to kill off the old you than try to change the new you.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s ¡®we?¡¯¡±


    ¡°Sorry. No questions asked and no questions answered.¡± He tapped the folder. ¡°Be sure to put these somewhere safe.¡±


    I¡¯d taken out the driver¡¯s license, dropped the folder on the desk in my bedroom, and hadn¡¯t looked at it since¡ªwhich was why I wasn¡¯t sure if I was a card-carrying member of the Torr or not.


    ¡°No,¡± Jacky said, ¡°you don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Am I going to get one of those?¡± I asked.


    Big Jacky hesitated for a long time. It¡¯s hard to explain how bones can look uneasy¡ªyou¡¯ll have to take my word for it. ¡°That¡­remains to be seen.¡±


    Olivia said, ¡°We¡¯re here.¡±


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    I looked up.


    Most of the other buildings in Craftborough were special because they were old; this one was special because it was the final answer on how much modern architecture was allowed to encroach on the witches¡¯ territory. They used the wood and bricks that matched the rest of the town, but they¡¯d been stacked up around a state-of-the-art, three-story design. The ceilings were taller, the windows were wider, and the sheets of glass were joined with thin black seams. The halls that led from the main building to the satellite rooms around the back and sides were lined with windows that mimicked the grid windows of the 1700s, but any pretense of shutters were gone.


    There was a generous courtyard made up of large, smooth stone slabs laid down so the seams created a pattern of angles and curves. The seams were inlaid with lines of silver metal. Around the edges of the courtyard were the sagging remnants of their manicured plants, nestled in a layer of snow, waiting for spring to come so they could burst back into life.


    In front of it all, there was a stone sign. The inlaid metal lines spelled out the name of the building.


    ARC Hall¡ªpronounced ¡°arc,¡± like the curve of a circle, short for Archives, Reference, and Cultural Hall.


    Whenever Jacky called it a library, Olivia twitched with the restrained need to correct him. It was, apparently, more than a library.


    ¡°That,¡± I said, ¡°is a whole lot bigger than I thought it would be.¡±


    Jacky said, ¡°Craftborough is home to the oldest organized coven in North America. They have a lot of archives. And culture.¡±


    I said to Olivia, ¡°Why are you so sure that this building has something to do with what happened last night?¡±


    ¡°My mother mentioned a wardsman,¡± she said. ¡°They¡¯re a special group of witches that maintain the wards the coven uses to protect community property, and the rest of coven property is nothing but a bunch of old buildings that we don¡¯t bother protecting.¡±


    I spoke slowly, giving my brain all the time it needed to churn through a few deductions. ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is that, this morning, we broke into the wrong building?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t the wrong building. Mother had been there!¡±


    I raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Okay. Fine!¡± Olivia threw up her hands. ¡°I made a mistake. Are you happy now?¡±


    ¡°Olivia Oliversen, does this mean that you¡¯re human?¡± I tried to sound as shocked and appalled as anyone would be at such a monumental discovery.


    Like many other important discoveries, it was ignored by the public at large.


    ¡°You look around the outside of the building and stay out of trouble,¡± she said. ¡°Mr. Noctis and I will go inside and see if we can learn anything.¡±


    ¡°Gotcha.¡± I gave her a thumbs up.


    I split off from them early, lest my trouble-making aura infect them.


    As I wandered across the courtyard, I tucked my hands in my coat pockets and raised my face to the meager sunlight. The real reason I¡¯d come (in spite of Olivia¡¯s discouragement) was to get away from the Oliversen house. I didn¡¯t really think I had much chance of finding anything. Mrs. Oliversen had declared it a false alarm¡ªmeaning they¡¯d found nothing inside. That made it hard to imagine there¡¯d be anything of interest on the outside. But I had to do my best.


    Well¡­my bestish.


    I didn¡¯t whip out a deerstalker cap and magnifying glass or anything. I used the silver lines in the paving stones as the world¡¯s least exciting balance beams, and every now and then, I¡¯d gaze at the pewter-colored sky broken up by the dark branches of the bare trees. Whenever I caught someone watching me, I waved. If you¡¯re a bald girl, people tend to look at you when they think you¡¯re not paying attention. I didn¡¯t mind. Sometimes people¡ªusually children¡ªwould wave back.


    I passed the long side of the main building and two and a half satellite buildings before I reached what I considered to be the back of the complex. At the edge of the employee parking lot, there was a short brick wall that served only one purpose: to hide all of the ugly, embarrassing metal boxes the complex needed to function.


    It was the curse of every designer. You went out of your way to make an aesthetically pleasing building, then along comes all those pesky practical concerns. The easiest solution was to shove the important stuff behind the beautiful stuff and plant bushes. Who¡¯d see it back there, anyway?


    The overly inquisitive. That¡¯s who.


    Whoever had designed ARC Hall must have missed the memo about using bushes. The ground was still covered with stone slabs, though they didn¡¯t extend out as far as the ones out front, and they weren¡¯t kept spotless.


    When I made it around the satellite buildings, I discovered that the main building butted up against a tall hill. The builders had dug out the section that didn¡¯t fit in with their plans and bricked up the new cliff face to keep it from spilling over. As I looked down the length of the building, I could see the hill and the supporting brick wall tapering off a few feet back from the front corner of the Hall.


    Even in this man-made architectural mini-canyon, there were paving stones.


    There was also plenty of room for me to walk between the wall of the building and the wall supporting the hill, so I could successfully complete my mission of walking around the outside of the Hall.


    What a great hiding place, I thought as I stepped between the two walls. Do the librarians ever come back here to get away from work?


    I doubted it. Librarians struck me as a dedicated and conscientious group of people.


    But if I understood Olivia right, then the people who worked there weren¡¯t merely librarians.


    And how do you store culture in a building?


    Halfway through the canyon, my wandering thoughts focused on an object sitting in the shadow of the building. It was some kind of squat cylinder with a large tag.


    I looked around. The walkway was dark and empty. The only litter I could see was a scrap of paper that had escaped from someone¡¯s lunch, and a disposable cup that had been carried into a corner by the wind.


    I peered back at the cylinder. Whatever it was, it looked too heavy to have blown there.


    Maybe someone does hide back here.


    When I moved closer, I realized the cylinder was a tin can. The tag was the lid, pulled back to expose whatever the contents had been.


    Ewww.


    I went to pick it up and throw it away, but when I was within two steps of it, I ran into the ward.


    I hadn¡¯t been expecting it, and there was no warning it was there. I was walking along, nothing in front of me, and then that nothing became a wall. Bright blue light filled my vision. I stumbled back.


    ¡°What the¡­¡±


    Once I was steady on my feet, I reached out slowly. As my hand approached the invisible barrier, it glowed a deep indigo, becoming brighter and bluer as my fingers got closer. I rested three of my fingers on the wall of nothing. Under them, an electric cerulean blue spread out, fading into something dark and almost purple the further away it was from the point of contact.


    I laughed.


    Touching the ward didn¡¯t hurt. It felt like a really solid piece of air. I watched the blues and purples slide around as I ran my hand over the surface. As I swept my arm around in a giant circle, I noticed something on the ground at my feet. A line of snow had melted to reveal a metal inlay. I squatted down and slid my hand closer to the stone below me. Sure enough, the ward was attached to the silver line.


    Huh.


    I¡¯d used the other silver lines as balance beams. They hadn¡¯t been wards.


    I heard a voice in my head that sounded suspiciously like Big Jacky: They weren¡¯t active wards.


    Jacky-in-my-head made a good point. The witches would probably take down the wards in the front of the building when it was open, but no one was supposed to be back here, so they could leave them up the whole time.


    But how was I supposed to get that stupid can?


    And how had it gotten there in the first place?


    I looked around again. Near the base of the hillside wall was a broken branch. It was mostly bare, with one fork sticking off the end, giving it a convenient Y shape. It looked long enough to be useful.


    I picked it up and poked the ward with it. There was no reaction¡ªno glow, no pretty blue and purple lights. I used the forked branch to hook the can, then dragged it out of the ward toward me.


    Tuna.


    I laid the stick aside and picked up the can.


    The flecks of fish that were still in it were soggy from the snow that had melted inside, but they were old enough I couldn¡¯t smell them. I examined the layer of snow around the edge of the building, close to where the tuna had been resting.


    Where the snow had been thinnest, it had already melted down to the stone, making it harder to tell, but I thought a few of the melted spots might have once been paw prints.


    ¡°That¡¯s a strange way to feed a cat.¡±


    I stood up and continued toward the front of the building. My mind was filled, ear-to-ear, with a wispy sense of puzzlement centered around tuna cans. As I walked, I absent-mindedly trailed my left hand along the ward.


    ¡°Hey! Hey!¡±


    I looked up.


    In front of me, at the end of the wall, was a young woman. She wasn¡¯t wearing a coat, and in an effort to keep herself warm, her arms were folded tightly across her chest and her fingers were tucked in her armpits. She was around my age, and she had thick, wavy black hair cut in a chin-length bob. She looked angry.


    ¡°You!¡± she cried. ¡°Stop playing with the ward!¡±


    I glanced at the blue shimmer to my left, and let out an embarrassed laugh.


    ¡°Sorry.¡± I pulled my hand back to my side.


    ¡°What are you doing back here anyway?¡± she demanded.


    I picked up my pace in case whatever excuse I thought up wasn¡¯t good enough. When I was beside her, I held up the tin can. ¡°I saw some litter.¡±


    When I saw her eyes move from the can up to me, I gave her a smile befitting a good Samaritan.


    ¡°Why were you playing with the ward?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never run into one that kept me out before. It felt kind of weird, you know?¡±


    She sighed and turned back toward the front of the building. I followed her out of the walkway.


    ¡°You must be a visiting witch,¡± she said.


    ¡°Not exactly.¡± When she turned to me, her face full of alarm, I rushed to add, ¡°But I am an initiate! I mean, I know about wards and all that, right?¡± Her alarm morphed into skepticism, so I blathered on to prove how at-ease and blameless I was. ¡°The ones I¡¯ve run into only keep out monsters and things.¡±


    ¡°Where the hell are you from?¡±


    My head flinched back when I heard the shock in her voice. After blinking once or twice, I said, ¡°Does it matter?¡±


    Her cheeks went red, and she shrugged. ¡°Not really. It seemed weird to me. Malign wards are a lot harder to work with than normal wards. That¡¯s the kind of thing you only put up when you¡¯re expecting trouble.¡±


    I do live with death every day. Unless he¡¯s on a business trip.


    Since I couldn¡¯t tell her that, I tried to change the subject. ¡°What¡¯s the difference between a malign ward and a normal ward?¡±


    We turned the corner at the front of the Hall. The courtyard spread out in front of us.


    The witch said, ¡°A malign ward is designed to keep out things that might harm the people inside it. A normal ward just keeps out everything.¡±


    I tapped the can with the index finger of the hand that was holding it. ¡°But not, like¡­everything, everything. Right?¡±


    ¡°Well, everything alive.¡±


    ¡°But it doesn¡¯t keep out cats.¡±


    She stopped and turned to me. ¡°How did you know that?¡±


    I held up the can again. ¡°Paw prints.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Her shoulders relaxed, and she kept walking.


    I hurried a step to catch up to her. ¡°Does the fact you came out here mean that you¡¯re the one maintaining this ward? Could you feel me playing with it?¡±


    ¡°It was freaky. Like someone running a feather over my brain.¡±


    I smiled. ¡°I really am sorry about that. I didn¡¯t mean to go around tickling you.¡±


    The witch glanced my way, saw my smile, and gave me a half-smile in return. By then we were in front of the main doors. Knowing my welcome only extended so far, I stopped. The witch stopped beside me.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she said. ¡°It was kind of a welcome break. It¡¯s pretty crazy in there today.¡±


    Oh, hey! If she wanted to extend her unofficial break, I¡¯d be happy to keep her there.


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We walked in this morning and found an urgent new assignment, coming right from the top,¡± she said.


    ¡°What kind of an assignment?¡±


    She waved her hand dismissively. ¡°Inventory stuff.¡±


    ¡°I thought you were a wardsman. Do all the wardsman have other jobs in the hall?¡±


    She laughed. ¡°I¡¯m not a wardsman. Not even close.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    A loud, cheerful cry interrupted me: ¡°Miss Cole!¡±


    The witch took one look at the three people approaching us and swore under her breath.


    ¡°Sorry, she muttered, ¡°I have to go.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Hey! Uh...thank you.¡±


    She nodded to me, then hurried to the door.


    Ellis Oliversen kept coming, her long, fawn-colored coat waving around her legs with every stride. There was an unknown man beside her wearing a reddish-brown wool coat over a suit. Everything he wore looked slightly rumpled, as if he¡¯d mugged someone else to borrow their clothes. But that could have been nothing but a judgment by comparison because, walking in front of him, wearing a tailored navy-blue three-piece suit, long heather gray coat, and dapper tie¡ªlooking as if he was born to that level of style¡ªwas Mr. Owen Ashworth, the sorcerer¡¯s torrman, and the most handsome man I¡¯d ever met.


    He was the one that had called my name. As he walked toward me, he smiled as if he¡¯d unexpectedly run into an old friend.


    I held back my groan.

 Chapter 19 - Special Guests

    Ashworth finished closing the distance between us. Once again, I was struck (almost knocked over) by his good looks. It was his stupid, well-cut dark hair, and his dumb¡ª


    Well, no. His blue-green eyes were intelligent. Not dumb at all. That was part of the problem. Could I call his facial features dumb? Probably.


    ¡ªand his dumb, perfectly sculpted facial features.


    Automatically, my tongue turned into a clumsy hunk of worthless meat.


    He descended on me with that awful, charming smile of his, and he stood close enough that he wouldn¡¯t have to raise his voice.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect to see you here, Miss Cole,¡± he said.


    ¡°Uh. Yeah.¡± I forced myself to look at him. ¡°I¡­uh¡­I guess I should¡¯ve seen this coming. You¡¯re one of the special guests, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I am.¡± He turned to motion to Ellis and the stranger. ¡°Mistress Oliversen was kind enough to invite me, and I wouldn¡¯t miss it for all the world.¡±


    Ellis and the other man came up beside Ashworth, forming a loose, lopsided circle of conversation. Mrs. Oliversen¡¯s face was calm, but her narrowed eyes bored into me. I got the feeling they were trying to unearth the reason I was there and why someone as important as Owen Ashworth would know my name.


    Ashworth turned back to me. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, have you had the chance to meet Mistress¡ª¡±


    In my embarrassment, I cut him off. ¡°We¡¯ve met.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    Sure! We¡¯re great friends, I thought. Why, she picked me up from a police station this morning.


    Mrs. Oliversen said, ¡°Miss Cole is staying at my house.¡±


    I didn¡¯t even need to look at Owen. I could sense the note going up in his brain, right beside my name: Emerra Cole is close enough to Ellis Oliversen to stay with her when she¡¯s in Craftborough.


    No doubt, I was driving the man crazy.


    Count Vasil had once described Owen Ashworth as ¡°a classic self-serving aspirant.¡± After I¡¯d learned what that meant, I agreed with the assessment. Ashworth found it useful to know other important people. The problem was that he couldn¡¯t tell if I was important or not. He didn¡¯t know who or what I was, or what my powers were. All he knew was that I kept showing up around Jack Noctis and, now, Ellis Oliversen.


    At this point, he probably wouldn¡¯t even believe me if I told him I was a freeloading nobody that Jacky had dug up out of nowhere.


    Ashworth gestured to the stranger. ¡°Should I bother? Or do you already know him as well?¡±


    ¡°I do not,¡± I said.


    The rumpled man offered me a straight, twitchy smile. ¡°Cameron Misserly.¡±


    ¡°Doctor Cameron Misserly,¡± Owen added.


    Misserly¡¯s smile twitched again. He shook his head. ¡°Not that kind of doctor. Ph.D. Not a medical degree.¡±


    The doctor might have been in his mid to late thirties. He had dark eyes, and his wavy hair lent itself to the over-all rumpled appearance. Now that he was closer, I could tell he actually did look disheveled¡ªit wasn¡¯t just because he was standing next to Ashworth. The knot in his tie was squished into a malformed lump, it was pulled down by a half inch, and the top button of his shirt was undone. This was a man who knew enough about social expectations to own a suit, but he wasn¡¯t used to wearing one.


    My empathy reached out to embrace him. We could be slobs together.


    ¡°I¡¯m pleased to meet you,¡± I said as I shook his hand. ¡°I¡¯m Emerra Cole.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s another special guest,¡± Owen explained. ¡°He¡¯s here representing the alchemists.¡±


    I glanced at the torrman. ¡°Not Klara Reynell?¡±


    ¡°She wasn¡¯t able to make it,¡± Misserly said, ¡°so she was kind enough to offer me the opportunity to come instead.¡± He nodded to Ellis, to acknowledge that he was speaking as much to her as to me. ¡°It was an honor. I appreciate how rare an opportunity like this is.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re glad that you could make it,¡± Ellis said.


    Ashworth said to me, ¡°Have you been in town long?¡±


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    ¡°No, I got here yesterday,¡± I said.


    ¡°Does that mean you¡¯re staying through the festival?¡±


    I was glad he¡¯d phrased it that way. Going to the festival? Who knew? But staying through it? That one I thought I could answer.


    ¡°It looks that way.¡±


    Ashworth¡¯s foot scraped backward a few inches so he could divide his attention between me and Mrs. Oliversen. ¡°If you¡¯re staying at Mistress Oliversen¡¯s, does that mean you¡¯re coming to the party tomorrow?¡±


    Gosh. Was that an icy gust, or was the head of the coven watching me? ¡°Uhhhh¡­¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s been invited,¡± Ellis said.


    What a line! What perfect delivery! It assured Ashworth that he hadn''t accidentally created an awkward situation by mentioning the party to someone who wasn''t invited, but it also didn''t commit me to coming. In fact, her voice had been pitched so perfectly, I couldn''t even tell if she wanted me there.


    I had to fight back the urge to bow. That woman was a queen.


    And Owen Ashworth knew you never refused royalty.


    ¡°Then you have to come,¡± he said.


    Dang it! Where was Olivia when I needed someone to be rude for me?


    ¡°I¡ªuh¡­I¡¯m hoping we can make it,¡± I said.


    Right. That wasn¡¯t a complete lie, and I still wasn¡¯t committed to anything. But if I ever wanted to move up the ranks from ¡°annoying peasant,¡± my diplomatic voice would need more confidence.


    ¡°You make it sound like you¡¯re busy,¡± Ashworth said. ¡°You¡¯re not here for the festival?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not my first priority, no.¡± In another sudden fit of diplomacy, I stapled ¡°sadly¡± onto the end of that statement.


    ¡°Are you working on a project?¡± Misserly asked.


    His foot had inched toward me when he spoke, and he was leaning in, his eyes wide and bright.


    My gaze wandered from him, over to Ashworth. Owen was watching me in that careful, patient way I¡¯d seen once or twice before, like a cat waiting for a sign of movement from the mouse hole. Misserly had asked the question, but it was Ashworth who was most interested in the answer.


    And darn my rebel nature¡ªbut I didn¡¯t want to give Owen Ashworth so much as a crumb.


    I turned to Misserly. ¡°You seem excited.¡±


    The doctor wasn¡¯t prepared to be called out like that. He straightened up, and his eyes darted away as he cleared his throat.


    ¡°Yes, well. I¡­¡± He smiled sheepishly and started over. ¡°Experimental magic is my passion. That¡¯s a large reason why I was so excited to come here.¡± He pointed to ARC Hall. ¡°That building is a treasure trove of knowledge.¡±


    ¡°You can feel the inspiration almost wafting in the air, can¡¯t you?¡± I said.


    His smile twitched into a wider one. ¡°Something like that, yes.¡±


    ¡°Are you working on any experiments right now?¡±


    ¡°Always.¡± Misserly glowed with a low-key pleasure. ¡°I actually took time off work to come down here early so I could work on another one of my side projects.


    ¡°You took time off to do more work?¡± Ashworth shook his head. ¡°I admire your diligence, Doctor. I came in early so I could relax! This is a vacation for me.¡±


    ¡°You got here yesterday?¡± Ellis asked.


    ¡°Yesterday morning.¡± Ashworth pushed his hands deep in his coat pockets, arched his back, and looked up to the sky. ¡°This is a wonderful town to relax in. Quiet streets. Everything I could ask for is within walking distance of my bed and breakfast.¡± He said to me, ¡°There¡¯s this charming coffee shop right down the street¡ª¡±


    On the near-zero chance (but not nearly close enough to zero chance) that he was about to say, ¡°we should go there sometime,¡± I hurried to insert my own comment.


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll head there after this.¡±


    Ashworth nodded to my hands. ¡°Does ¡®this¡¯ have anything to do with that tuna can you¡¯ve been holding the whole time?¡±


    Oh, geez. And here I thought I¡¯d been making a good impression with my diplomacy and engaging questions. But, no. I¡¯m standing around, chatting with a torrman while holding week-old garbage.


    I blushed and tossed the can into the nearby trash bin. ¡°No, that was a bit of litter I found. I¡¯m actually waiting for my friends.¡±


    The doors of ARC Hall opened.


    ¡°And here they are!¡± I cried, my voice loud with relief.


    Big Jacky walked over to our group without a hint of hesitation. There was a momentary glitch in Olivia¡¯s pace when she saw her mother, but she recovered and walked up to us with a palpable air of dignity.


    No prizes for guessing who she¡¯d inherited it from.


    ¡°Noctis!¡± Ashworth said.


    Jacky nodded to his fellow torrman. ¡°Mr. Ashworth. How do you do.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were coming to the festival.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a coincidence. I¡¯m here on behalf of my apprentice.¡± He moved back a bit so Ashworth could get an unobstructed view of Olivia. ¡°She recently gave her first year¡¯s report.¡±


    ¡°Your apprentice?¡± Ashworth¡¯s eyes widened and his eyebrows rose.


    I held my hand, palm up, to gesture to the lovely teenage redhead. ¡°Mr. Ashworth, this is Olivia Oliversen.¡±


    Owen turned to Ellis.


    ¡°My youngest,¡± she explained.


    Christmas had come ten months early for the information hoarder, Owen Ashworth. He beamed at Olivia and extended his hand.


    ¡°Olivia,¡± I said, ¡°this is Owen Ashworth. He¡¯s the sorcerer¡¯s torrman.¡±


    The girl was even tougher than I thought; she didn¡¯t blush or stutter when she shook his hand and said, ¡°Pleased to meet you.¡±


    I went on, ¡°And this is Dr. Cameron Misserly. Alchemist.¡±


    When Misserly and Olivia were done shaking, Ellis said, ¡°Olivia, what were you doing in the Hall?¡±


    Olivia met her mother¡¯s cold gaze with her own. ¡°Research.¡±


    They stared at each other for almost a second, then Ellis turned to her special guests.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to drag you gentlemen away from this conversation, but I¡¯m afraid my time is limited. We should be getting on with the tour.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Ashworth protested. ¡°Of course. It was thoughtless of us. We don¡¯t want to keep you, Mistress Oliversen. Besides,¡± he turned to the rest of us, ¡°we should have the chance to catch up with them at the party tomorrow.¡±


    Misserly and Ashworth said goodbye before being led away by Ellis Oliversen. She held the door to ARC Hall open for both of them. They passed through, and Ellis gave Olivia one last look before going in.


    Big Jacky, Olivia, and I turned away from the hall and started walking.


    We only made it two steps before Olivia curled over and put a hand to her forehead.


    ¡°Holy shit,¡± she said.


    I laughed. ¡°I know, right?¡±


    She looked at me. ¡°Do you think he knows he¡¯s that attractive?¡±


    ¡°Olivia Oliversen,¡± I put my arm over her shoulder, ¡°I guarantee it.¡±


    Jacky sounded perplexed. ¡°How do you know who she¡¯s talking about?¡±


    My arm fell away. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, Jacky. It¡¯s double-X telepathy.¡±


    He sounded more perplexed. ¡°It¡¯s¡­what?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a girl thing.¡±

 Chapter 20 - Mrs. Lehm

    Earlier that morning, Olivia had gotten a call from Autumn. She told Olivia that she¡¯d been contacted by one of Kirby¡¯s neighbors, a woman by the name of Mrs. Lehm.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t she go see this woman herself?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Autumn has to make up some work. She¡¯s been getting in trouble, and it¡¯s hard to explain that she¡¯s looking for someone that no one believes is missing,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°And this...Mrs. Lehm? She said she has something important to show us?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what she says,¡± Olivia grumbled.


    ¡°You don¡¯t sound excited.¡±


    Olivia had her phone in her hand. She was looking up the address Autumn had sent her. When she was done, she slowly put her phone back in her pocket. I watched her face as she did.


    That was getting to be a bad habit with me¡ªwatching people¡¯s faces, wondering if I¡¯m going to be reading their expressions or some invisible emotion that nonetheless manages to brand itself onto my eyeballs.


    In this case, I could only see her expression. She looked grumpy. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was meaningful or her default setting.


    ¡°Autumn told me not to get my hopes up,¡± she said.


    After a brief silence, I said, ¡°Do you know why she said that?¡±


    Olivia shook her head.


    We were walking away from the town center, toward Kirby''s shop. Small groups of people were scattered over the whole area, working to get the place ready for the Besom Days Festival. Canopy tents were being put up, men were unloading temporary gas firepits and patio heaters from their trucks, ropes were being tied off, and booths were being assembled.


    As we passed by, a feeling of isolation stole over me. All those people were devoted to the same project¡ªbut Olivia, Jacky, and I were leaving them behind to pursue our own ends. It felt like we were walking in a different world.


    ¡°It¡¯s possible she was cautioning herself as much as Olivia,¡± Jacky said. ¡°There comes a point during a long struggle when many humans become scared to hope.¡±


    I looked back at Big Jacky. He was striding along as if he hadn¡¯t said anything surprising at all.


    Jacky had come out with one or two perceptive insights before. There was no reason I should still feel that zap of mild shock. But you don¡¯t expect to hear a statement like that coming from the same man who couldn¡¯t understand why someone would be bothered by the sight of another person¡¯s smashed-in skull.


    On the other hand, Iset had been coaching Jack Noctis for three thousand years. Maybe he¡¯d learned a few things.


    When Jacky saw me gazing at him, he elaborated: ¡°It¡¯s been over a week, and there¡¯s been little to go on.¡±


    ¡°Jacky,¡± I said, ¡°do you feel hope?¡±


    Olivia¡¯s steps slowed.


    ¡°In this situation?¡± Jacky asked.


    ¡°In general,¡± I said.


    For a while, the only thing we heard was the sounds of Olivia¡¯s heels marking time as we walked along the wet sidewalk.


    ¡°I think I have,¡± Jacky said. ¡°Twice. It¡¯s an uncomfortable sensation. It¡¯s very bright, but without substance, and when it goes away, it feels hollow.¡±


    That was it. He¡¯d got it in a nutshell, and the greatest poet alive couldn¡¯t have added a single word to the description. Sympathy swelled in my chest until it pressed out on my ribs. I felt the urge to throw my arms around death and squeeze.


    Jacky went on, ¡°But the few hopes I¡¯ve had have been disappointed. I don¡¯t know what it would feel like to have them realized.¡± He paused. ¡°Do you?¡±


    My psyche took a quick one! two! hit from those words. It was like I was back in the ring with Conrad¡ªbut at least Conrad had a rough idea of his own strength.


    I crammed my fists deep into my coat pockets, ignoring the ball of grief that had welled up inside me, and let my brain sift through my memories. Maybe it would find something useful.


    The first thing it came up with was a rose-gold phone. Then the euphoric moment when Conrad scooted over to give me room on the couch. Igor and his cakes. Jacky sitting behind his desk, flourishing his hand bones out to the side¡ª¡°Then my house and means are at your disposal.¡± Tiny things, little moments, that became drops of gold.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said, ¡°so you know how hope feels so bright and insubstantial?¡±


    Jacky nodded.


    ¡°In a big burst of joy it becomes solid. It shrinks it down into a¡­a chunk of happiness.¡± I pulled a hand out from my coat pocket and held up a nonexistent cube. ¡°Like a wooden toy block, and you pick it up and put it with the others.¡± I got carried away with the image and added, ¡°And it makes a neat stack!¡±


    Olivia said, ¡°Why does every explanation you give sound like it¡¯s coming from a five-year-old?¡±


    I shrugged and glanced back to see if the other half of my audience had appreciated the lecture. Noctis considered the ground as he walked.


    ¡°Jacky?¡± I said.


    ¡°Does a bigger hope realized make a bigger block?¡± he asked.


    I smiled. There was a lot in that smile¡ªfondness, amusement, exasperation, and sadness. Sadness for him because he had no idea what I was talking about¡­and a speck of sadness for myself.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admitted.


    Olivia tugged the front of her hat down by the brim. ¡°If we ever find Kirby, I¡¯ll let you know.¡±


    Mrs. Lehm lived in a second-floor apartment, kitty-corner to Kirby¡¯s next-door neighbor. We climbed the stairs and Olivia knocked. As we waited for Mrs. Lehm to come to the door, I looked over the thin metal railing to the alley below.


    Maybe there was some reason to hope. If anything had happened behind Kirby¡¯s store, Mrs. Lehm would have had a good view of it.


    The door opened wide enough to give us a three-inch view of the woman inside. Her face was partly obstructed by the brass security chain still fixed to the door. She had poofy brown hair with a half inch of gray roots showing. The skin of her face had wrinkles in a variety of depths. I couldn¡¯t tell if they were worry lines or smile lines. She peered at us from behind her thick-rimmed glasses.


    ¡°Yes?¡± she said.


    ¡°Mrs. Lehm?¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°That¡¯s me.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re friends of Autumn Langley and Nolan Kirby.¡±


    ¡°Kirby¡¯s that blind boy that owns the shop,¡± Mrs. Lehm noted.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Her eyes flicked up to Olivia¡¯s hat, then returned to her face. ¡°You¡¯re a witch.¡±


    ¡°Is that a problem?¡±


    Mrs. Lehm let out a humph. ¡°Not to me. I don¡¯t suppose I would¡¯ve lived here for so long unless I didn¡¯t mind witches. Most hide it better.¡± She looked at Big Jacky. ¡°What about you? Are you police?¡±


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    ¡°No.¡±


    Mrs. Lehm¡¯s eyes narrowed.


    I jumped in with, ¡°But he does help law enforcement.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Mrs. Lehm said. ¡°That explains it.¡±


    ¡°Explains what?¡± Jacky said.


    But Mrs. Lehm¡¯s attention had turned to me. ¡°Are you a boy or a girl?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a woman.¡±


    ¡°Why are you bald?¡±


    I already felt nettled because of the boy-or-girl question. I don¡¯t mind when people make a mistake, but I do mind when their tone makes it sound like they¡¯re accusing me of something¡ªas if it¡¯s my fault they can¡¯t tell, and I did it on purpose.


    She used the same tone when she asked her second question.


    ¡°Hair dyeing accident,¡± I said.


    Mrs. Lehm¡¯s eyes widened. Olivia shot me a glare. Jacky leaned over and whispered, ¡°Explains what?¡±


    Olivia took a half step forward. ¡°Mrs. Lehm, Autumn told us that you had something important for her¡ªsomething that might have to do with Kirby¡¯s disappearance.¡±


    A slow, wide smile spread over the old woman¡¯s face. It showed most of her upper teeth. All the wrinkles had to bend around it to give it room. ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    The door closed, we heard some metallic skittering, then the door opened wide enough to admit us.


    ¡°Come in,¡± Mrs. Lehm said.


    Olivia and Jacky went in first. I gazed around the place as I followed them in.


    It looked like a standard low-income apartment. The paint was an egg-shell white that hadn¡¯t been touched up in over a decade. The furniture looked worn, and no two pieces were the same. The bookshelves were crammed with paperbacks and DVDs, some of them turned sideways, sitting on top of the others. Two finely crafted cupboards stood out. They were as old as everything else¡ªmaybe even older¡ªbut they looked ¡°aged,¡± rather than worn out. One was filled with delicate knickknacks. The other was filled with china. Both of the cupboards looked too big for the room.


    Two tabby cats came out from the narrow hall that led to the rest of the apartment. When they saw Jack Noctis, they stopped and stared without so much as a twitch from their whiskers or tails.


    Mrs. Lehm noticed them. ¡°Come on, Milo. Chip. Do you want to say hello?¡±


    Neither moved.


    She said over her shoulder, ¡°They always come out when they hear the door. They think they might get a chance to escape. When that fails, they yell at me for treats¡ªas if they¡¯re good little boys that wouldn¡¯t have abandoned me given the slightest opportunity.¡±


    She bent down and held out her fingers. ¡°Come on. Come. No?¡± She straightened up and put her hand on her hips. ¡°That¡¯s funny. They¡¯re not usually shy of strangers. I have to lock them away when Bethany comes over. She¡¯s allergic, you know.¡±


    ¡°Um, Mrs. Lehm?¡± Olivia said.


    Mrs. Lehm waved at her reluctant cats. ¡°Never mind.¡± She turned to us. ¡°Have a seat.¡±


    She claimed the only armchair. Jacky, Olivia, and I had to make ourselves as comfortable as possible on the couch. I sat down in the middle and sank by a foot.


    Mrs. Lehm started talking before we were settled.


    ¡°I think it was Pager.¡±


    Olivia blinked, then leaned forward. The witch¡¯s hat she was holding in front of her knees slid down a bit. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Who?¡±


    ¡°Mr. Pager.¡± Lehm nodded while giving Olivia a significant look. ¡°I told that to the chief, and I told it to that Autumn girl. I¡¯ll tell it to you now. It was Mr. Pager.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s Mr. Pager?¡± Jacky asked.


    Lehm turned and pointed behind her, to some unseen apartment or store beyond the wall. ¡°He¡¯s a neighbor, though, I wouldn¡¯t call him neighborly. He lives above the store next to Kirby¡¯s. And I think¡­¡± She waved her index finger around. ¡°I think he did it for the shop.¡±


    ¡°The shop?¡± I said.


    ¡°The chief said that I shouldn¡¯t say things like that¡ªthat Mr. Pager doesn¡¯t have a motive. So I¡¯ve been thinking about it.¡± She lowered her voice. ¡°The shop is the key.¡± She leaned back. ¡°Mark my words. When they find the body, they¡¯ll know.¡±


    Jacky started to say, ¡°Nolan Kirby isn¡¯t de¡ª¡± but Olivia cut him off.


    ¡°You think something bad happened?¡±


    Lehm nodded.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    The old woman scoffed. ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious? You don¡¯t get the police around asking questions because a man decides to go on vacation. It has to be something.¡±


    The edge of Olivia¡¯s lips pulled back and down. She was disappointed, but she was trying to hide it.


    Mrs. Lehm went on. ¡°After that, I got to thinking, and it all makes sense. Everything! Mr. Pager, the stranger, the footprints¡ª¡±


    ¡°The footprints?¡± I repeated.


    ¡°Yes! It wasn¡¯t the garbage at all!¡±


    My eyes darted over to Olivia and Jacky, but they didn¡¯t seem to be following her story any better than I was. I wished that Darius was there. Whenever he was around, interrogation sessions made a lot more sense.


    ¡°Um.¡± I swished my hands in front of me, trying to give some kind of outline or shape to my nebulous confusion. ¡°Is there some kind of a beginning that we could, maybe, start at?¡±


    Mrs. Lehm said, ¡°It started the day before Kirby went missing¡ª¡±


    ¡°Would that be Wednesday or Tuesday?¡± Jacky asked.


    Lehm scowled at him for daring to interrupt.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Olivia said. ¡°Go on.¡±


    When Lehm went on, her voice was dusky and dramatic. I found myself leaning forward. Milo and Chip crept into the room to listen.


    ¡°It started the day before Kirby went missing. That Tuesday night¡±¡ªLehm cast a dark look in Jacky¡¯s direction, then continued¡ª¡±I heard a car while I was watching the late show. I got up, went over to the window, and looked out. Mr. Pager was pulling into his usual spot after eleven o¡¯clock. But he¡¯s a man of regular habits, and I¡¯ve never seen him come home later than eight. What I didn¡¯t know was that he was meeting with the stranger¡ªa woman.¡± Lehm raised her eyebrows. ¡°A witch.¡±


    She allowed a suitably impressive pause, then went on.


    ¡°The next day¡ªWednesday¡ªI saw her. A woman came wondering down the alley around one o¡¯clock. She got all the way down here, looked around, and left. I told Ansel she wasn¡¯t looking at anything in particular, but now that I know what happened, I remember that she eyed Kirby¡¯s place longer than anything else. That night they must have come for Kirby. They got him out of bed, used a spell to either bind him up or make him compliant, packed him up in their car, and drove away.¡±


    ¡°You saw this?¡± Jacky asked.


    Mrs. Lehm glared at him with narrowed eyes. ¡°I didn¡¯t have to see it. The next morning, I was outside, throwing away my garbage, when I found a set of bare footprints in the snow. Mr. Pager caught me staring at them. That man won¡¯t give me a good morning nine times out of ten, but that morning, he wanted to know what I was looking at. When I pointed them out, he laughed and said it must have been some lazy person who had to throw out their garbage late at night and didn¡¯t want to bother putting on shoes. He said he used to do that when he was young, and that Hazel had a teenage boy old enough to do something similar. But those footprints were too big to be Luke¡¯s. They must have belonged to Kirby, and no one would go out barefoot in the snow unless they were forced to.¡±


    Mrs. Lehm shifted so she could lean on the arm of her chair and raise her finger. ¡°They must have gotten rid of Kirby and hid the body. When the place goes up for rent, Pager will buy out the supplies from whoever inherits it, and he and the witch will move into the business. He can finally quit that day job he¡¯s been working at for decades.¡± She gave us another solemn nod. ¡°You mark my words.¡±


    I blinked, breaking the storyteller¡¯s spell. When I came to, I was leaning so far forward, my elbows were digging into my thighs. I looked over to see how Olivia was doing. Her expression was composed of equal parts concern and confusion.


    I knew how she felt. Mrs. Lehm had sounded so impressive and certain that I caught myself wondering if Big Jacky was wrong about Nolan Kirby being alive¡ªbut once you start questioning whether or not you can trust death when it comes to life, you might as well give up and start reading books on nihilism.


    Jacky was unimpressed. His low voice broke into the silence.


    ¡°Can you clarify something for me, Mrs. Lehm?¡±


    The old woman turned her head so she could eye him better.


    ¡°What exactly did you see?¡± he asked.


    She jabbed a bony finger at him. ¡°You¡¯re law enforcement all right. This was why I called Autumn, and not the chief.¡±


    Jacky ignored the hideous accusation. ¡°If I understand you correctly, you actually saw Mr. Pager come home late on Tuesday.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Did you see anything else?¡±


    ¡°I told you, I saw the bare footprints, and Pager was out there, trying to tell me where they came from so he wouldn¡¯t look guilty.¡±


    ¡°What about the witch?¡±


    ¡°I saw her too. She came that Wednesday.¡±


    ¡°Can you tell us what she looked like?¡±


    Mrs. Lehm stared at a point in space, then shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m too high up. I couldn¡¯t rightly tell.¡±


    ¡°How tall was she?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Was she wearing a dress?¡±


    ¡°No, she was wearing pants and a coat.¡±


    ¡°Did she have long hair?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t notice.¡±


    Jacky sounded frustrated: ¡°Then how could you know she was a woman¡ªlet alone a witch?¡±


    A triumphant smirk appeared on Mrs. Lehm¡¯s face. ¡°I found the spell they used to take him.¡±


    Olivia and I both lurched to the front of the couch. Since I was already sitting on the edge, I almost fell off.


    While I recovered my balance, Olivia said, ¡°A spell? You found a spell?¡±


    ¡°Circle, lines, strange symbols.¡± Lehm smiled at her. ¡°I bet you could make something of it.¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±


    Make something of it? If Olivia could actually see the spell they used, then she could tell us how powerful it was, what it was meant to do, and maybe even who¡¯d created it. If she didn¡¯t know the information off-hand, then it¡¯d take her less than a day to track it down. This was exactly the kind of break we¡¯d been looking for, and I could see the painful suspension of hope lighting up Olivia¡¯s eyes.


    Mrs. Lehm put her hands on the arms of her chair and pushed herself to her feet with a sigh. ¡°Now, let¡¯s see. I put it over here.¡±


    Olivia was off the couch and only two steps behind her. I stood up but stayed back so I wouldn¡¯t be in the way. When Jacky rose to his feet, the two cats flattened themselves against the carpet and crept backward.


    Mrs. Lehm went over to one of the cupboards and felt around the top. She pulled down a piece of printer paper, folded into uneven quarters. Its edges were warped and its ink was smeared where it had lain in the snow.


    Olivia had enough patience to wait for Mrs. Lehm to hold it out before snatching it from the old lady¡¯s hand. She unfolded it.


    A second passed.


    Olivia¡¯s forehead wrinkled, and her brows pulled together.


    Unable to bare my curiosity any longer, I stepped up to Olivia¡¯s side and looked over her shoulder at the paper.


    I drew a quick, involuntary breath¡ªand then I laughed.


    I felt bad about it, but I couldn¡¯t stop myself. I laughed and laughed¡ªdespite the fact everyone was staring at me, despite the fact I¡¯d scared away poor Milo and Chip, and despite the disappointment seeping through my stomach.


    A circle, lines, and strange symbols.


    It was a partially filled out unit circle. His name wasn¡¯t on the paper, but I was pretty sure that Luke, Hazel¡¯s teenage son, was missing his trigonometry homework.

 Chapter 21 - The Mark of a Thief

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Olivia. That must have been frustrating.¡±


    Iset¡¯s gentle voice floated between the speaker on Jacky¡¯s phone and where Olivia and I were sitting on his bed.


    We were back at the Oliversens¡¯ residence. Jacky had called Iset the moment we closed the door to his room. Olivia and I hadn¡¯t questioned it. You couldn¡¯t expect death to hold such an important conference without both halves of his brain being in on it.


    The phone was resting on the nightstand that Jacky had pulled out to sit between him and us.


    Olivia was sitting on the bed beside me. She glowered at the floor. ¡°At least now we know why Autumn told us not to get our hopes up. Mrs. Lehm¡¯s nothing but a crazy old cat lady.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be too quick to dismiss her,¡± the mummy cautioned.


    I spoke up: ¡°I don¡¯t know, Iset. I¡¯m pretty sure Darius would¡¯ve thrown her out as an unreliable witness.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s true that her conclusions are suspect, and I wouldn¡¯t trust anything she said she remembered ¡®after she knew what happened,¡¯ but that doesn¡¯t change the fact she saw something.¡±


    ¡°The woman thought that a math assignment was a spell!¡± Olivia cried.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t sure what it was either until I told you,¡± I pointed out.


    ¡°What do you know?!¡±


    ¡°Enough to get a D-minus in trig.¡± I threw up some hastily invented gang signs. ¡°Public school forever.¡±


    Before Olivia could think of a retort, Iset said, ¡°Yes. Thank you, Emerra. Big Jacky, what do you think?¡±


    Jacky had been sitting back in the armchair, his elbows out to the sides. He unlaced his finger bones and sat up.


    ¡°Mrs. Lehm didn¡¯t manufacture any details when I asked her about the stranger,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve noticed it¡¯s rare for humans to be comfortable admitting their ignorance and only do so out of a sense of integrity¡ª¡±


    Olivia¡¯s cheeks flushed.


    ¡°¡ªso I¡¯m inclined to believe at least that much of what she told us. Someone was in that alley on Wednesday afternoon. As for who they were and why they were there, I¡¯m afraid we don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Did you talk to Mr. Pager?¡± Iset asked.


    ¡°We did. He said he was out late watching a movie. If it becomes necessary to check if he was telling the truth, I have the name of the theater, but until we have a better reason to suspect him, I don¡¯t think it¡¯d be worth the effort.¡±


    The mummy sighed. ¡°All right. Did you learn anything while you were in ARC Hall?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Olivia grumbled.


    Jacky said, ¡°Olivia, that¡¯s an inaccurate statement.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Practically nothing.¡±


    I glanced at Jacky, but he didn¡¯t seem to think that answer needed correction.


    Olivia went on, ¡°Everything looked normal, nothing was out of place, and none of the workers seemed to know what we were talking about when we asked them what happened last night.¡±


    ¡°Do you think they were hiding something?¡± Iset asked.


    Olivia blinked, then looked at Big Jacky.


    After a brief hesitation, he answered, ¡°I didn¡¯t get that impression.¡±


    ¡°Is it possible you got the wrong building?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You mean ¡®again?¡¯¡± Olivia snapped.


    ¡°Okay. Sure. Did you get the wrong building again?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s likely,¡± Iset said. ¡°I have access to some coven records through the Torr. They have to declare if there are any witches being paid by the coven to use their magic on a regular basis. They have a list of researchers that aren¡¯t associated with a building, but the rest of the salaried magicians are from Saufgrove or ARC Hall.¡±


    My brows furrowed. ¡°They have wardsmen at the school?¡±


    ¡°They have teachers at the school,¡± Olivia said.


    I rubbed my forehead with the tips of my fingers. Even Olivia¡¯s minor snippiness was starting to get to me. It wouldn¡¯t be long before I needed a break.


    Would it be rude of me to monopolize the bathroom for an hour-long soak?


    Iset said, ¡°If the issue came up because of a wardsman, it probably came from ARC Hall.¡±


    Olivia groaned. ¡°Then why didn¡¯t anyone know about it? Are they keeping it a secret?¡±


    Jacky tapped his finger bone on the arm of his chair. ¡°That¡¯s possible. It¡¯s also possible the coven leaders didn¡¯t bother telling their subordinates.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Olivia said. ¡°Stuff like that gets around.¡±


    ¡°Not always. Most of the information I have access to is useless to the majority of the people in my organizations, so I don¡¯t bother passing it on. I suspect it¡¯s the same with your coven.¡±


    Olivia put her forehead in her hand. ¡°So you¡¯re saying that whatever happened, it wasn¡¯t important enough to tell anyone about?¡±


    ¡°Which would make sense if, as your mother said, it was a false alarm.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s voice grew louder with every word: ¡°Who gets a false alarm with a ward?¡±


    She grit her teeth, closed her eyes, and put her other hand to her head. One must not have been enough to hold it up.


    Maybe Olivia needed that soak more than I did.


    After a few seconds, I decided we¡¯d had enough dismayed silence.


    ¡°Iset,¡± I said, ¡°how many different kinds of wards are there?¡±


    Olivia¡¯s monotone answer flowed out from the space between her arms. ¡°A ward is a ward. Barriers are different.¡±


    Iset said, ¡°She¡¯s right, Emerra. There¡¯s only one kind of ward.¡±


    ¡°Then what¡¯s the difference between a malign ward and a normal ward?¡± I asked.


    Olivia raised her head. ¡°How do you even know those terms?¡±


    I cleared my throat. ¡°Ah, ha. Yeah. Um¡­so I was playing around with the ward at the back of the Hall¡ª¡±


    ¡°I thought I asked you to stay out of trouble!¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t get into trouble! I made a new friend!¡±


    ¡°You mean like you tried to be friends with Ansel?¡±


    ¡°Olivia,¡± Iset said, ¡°maybe we should listen to what she has to say.¡±


    The witch clamped her mouth shut, but a small huff escaped her nostrils.


    I told them about my walk around the complex, finding the tuna can, and the difficulty I had getting to it. As I talked about the young woman who came out to tell me to lay off the ward, Olivia scowled at me. I explained what she¡¯d said about malign wards and normal wards, and waited to see what Iset would say.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    As the silence stretched on, I craned my neck to look at Jacky¡¯s screen to make sure the mummy was still on the phone with us.


    ¡°Iset?¡± I said.


    She sounded distracted: ¡°Olivia, can you explain it?¡±


    Olivia hauled out her patented impression of a mildly pompous professor. I was beginning to wonder if she did it on purpose, without shame or apology.


    ¡°All wards share the same base spell. The differences between them are created when you define what they¡¯re meant to keep out. Malign wards are considered more difficult than standard wards because you have to spend a lot of time defining what counts as ¡®malign.¡¯ There are traditional preconstructed lists that witches will use if they¡¯re in a hurry, but it¡¯s still time-consuming to work them into the spell.¡±


    ¡°What does a standard ward keep out?¡± I asked.


    ¡°That depends on its size,¡± Jacky said.


    Olivia elaborated. ¡°Size is the other major variable that determines its effect. The larger the area the ward is meant to protect, the weaker it¡¯ll be and the less it can keep out. A ward the size of my fist could keep out everything¡ª¡±


    I thought I saw where this was going. ¡°While one big enough to protect the Hall would keep out humans but let in cats?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly.¡± A thoughtful frown appeared on Olivia¡¯s face. ¡°It sounds to me like they changed the definition of the spell. They probably used sentience parameters.¡±


    She saw me open my mouth and answered my question before I could ask it.


    ¡°It¡¯s a common preconstructed definition. It¡¯s used to keep out robbers, but it doesn¡¯t worry about most animals.¡±


    ¡°Most animals?¡±


    Jacky said, ¡°There was a brief time period when a group of foolhardy but determined thieves tried to train monkeys.¡±


    ¡°A coven of witches takes on trained monkey thieves?¡± I laughed. ¡°I would watch all ten seasons of that cartoon.¡±


    Olivia said, ¡°The ward you ran into is the one they keep up to make sure people can only come in from the front. The ward in the front is only activated when the Hall is closed.¡±


    ¡°What about the doors around the sides and back?¡± I asked. ¡°Are they only there for decoration?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re there for safety,¡± Jacky explained. ¡°Fire exits.¡±


    ¡°But with the wards¡ª¡±


    Olivia interrupted me. ¡°Wards only prevent you from entering. They can¡¯t stop you from leaving.¡±


    ¡°Could someone exiting the ward be what caused the false alarm?¡±


    ¡°A wardsman can¡¯t feel when someone¡¯s leaving.¡±


    ¡°But the girl said she wasn¡¯t a wardsman.¡±


    Olivia''s eyes narrowed and her upper lip lifted into a slight sneer. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The girl who came out to talk to me. She said she wasn¡¯t a wardsman.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense. She was the one maintaining the ward, wasn¡¯t she?¡±


    I hesitated. ¡°Well, yeah.¡±


    ¡°Then it¡¯s probably some stupid technicality. Maybe you only get the title of wardsman if you¡¯re a full-time employee or something. It doesn¡¯t matter. Whoever was maintaining the ward wouldn¡¯t have felt someone leave it.¡±


    The flippancy of her answer bothered me¡ªthe answer itself bothered me¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t like I had a better one.


    Iset suddenly broke in: ¡°Olivia, I have a hypothetical problem for you to consider.¡±


    The young witch looked wary. ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    ¡°I point you to a ward. You don¡¯t know who¡¯s maintaining it or how its defined. You have to learn as much about the ward as you can without alerting the witch maintaining it. How would you do it?¡±


    ¡°Am I trying to avoid alerting her at all, or just alerting her to the fact that I¡¯m the one screwing around with it?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s say that you want to avoid alerting her at all for as long as possible, but she must never find out you were involved.¡±


    Olivia fidgeted with a lock of hair as she puzzled over the question. When she arrived at an answer, she let go of the lock. ¡°I¡¯d start with the things least likely to set off the ward and move up toward the most likely. The witch maintaining it would eventually figure out someone was doing something, but by that time, I¡¯d probably know how she defined it and how strong it was. I¡¯d start with an inanimate object, like a rock¡ª¡±


    ¡°Or a stick?¡± Jacky said.


    Olivia and I stared at him.


    He leaned forward in his chair. ¡°Go on.¡±


    Olivia said, ¡°Next would be simple animate creatures. The easiest way would be to see if insects could get through the ward. Then I¡¯d do complex animals¡ª¡±


    ¡°Call in the trained monkeys!¡± I cried.


    ¡°They¡¯ve been accounted for,¡± Jacky reminded me.


    Iset said, ¡°You¡¯d be much more likely to use a dog or a cat.¡±


    Some unholy combination of anticipation and hesitation made my brain go numb. It felt like we were close to something interesting¡ªbut then, we¡¯d been excited about a discarded math paper. I was scared to grab for whatever this was, in case it turned out to be equally silly.


    Olivia scooted off the mattress and sat down on the floor at the end of the bed so she could be closer to the phone. ¡°You think someone was testing the ward.¡±


    ¡°Emerra,¡± Iset said, ¡°you said the tuna can was around the back of the main building?¡±


    I corrected her: ¡°It was on the side of the main building. But that¡¯s the wall that¡¯s most hidden from view.¡±


    ¡°If someone was testing the ward, that might have caused the false alarm,¡± Olivia said.


    Unease percolated through my chest. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t know.¡±


    For the sake of my sanity, I pretended she hadn¡¯t spoken. ¡°The tuna inside the can was old. It looked like it¡¯d been there for at least a day or two. I don¡¯t think that could¡¯ve been what set off the alarm last night.¡±


    ¡°Meaning it¡¯s likely they conducted that test a few days ago,¡± Jacky said, ¡°and returned last night either to do more testing or to execute their plan.¡± His finger bone tapped on the arm of the chair again. ¡°That¡¯s the act of a careful person.¡±


    That tapping had to be primitive Morse code for ¡°Behold! I am pondering!¡±¡ªbecause there¡¯s no point in being mysterious and wise unless everyone around you knows about it.


    ¡°What is it, Jacky?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Hmm?¡± When he saw my eyes slide from his skull down to his finger, he stopped tapping and curled it back under with the others. ¡°I was thinking about the stranger that Mrs. Lehm saw. It¡¯s possible that they were there, as she surmised, to look over Kirby¡¯s place.¡±


    Someone careful enough to test the ward before executing their plan, and someone careful enough to look over Kirby¡¯s place before breaking in¡ªthat was thought provoking.


    ¡°You think they¡¯re the same person?¡± I said.


    ¡°I think that Olivia¡¯s assumption that they are is gaining merit.¡±


    ¡°But what kind of plans did they have for ARC Hall?¡± Olivia asked.


    My numb brain latched onto the most obvious answer it could find. ¡°To get inside the building.¡±


    Before the witch could summon enough acid for the well-deserved sarcastic response, Jacky spoke up.


    ¡°That¡¯s one option. Another is that they needed information about the wards because they want to destroy the building.¡±


    My eyebrows jumped. I hadn¡¯t thought of that option.


    ¡°That seems less likely to me, Jacky,¡± Iset said. ¡°If they know enough about wards to test one, then they probably have a decent understanding of magic, and they would know that a ward can¡¯t stop someone who¡¯s determined to destroy a building.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± I said.


    Olivia shoved an imaginary object toward the phone. ¡°If you can push a can of cat food through the ward, you can push a bomb through it.¡±


    ¡°If we¡¯re right,¡± Iset said, ¡°and they were using subtle means to test the ward, that sounds like they¡¯re aiming for subterfuge. That isn¡¯t the mark of a terrorist. That¡¯s the mark of a thief.¡±


    The word ¡°thief¡± sparked a memory, and it glowed in my head like a candle.


    ¡°The witch that came to talk to me said that they were doing an inventory,¡± I said.


    Olivia and Jacky turned their attention to me.


    I ignored them and focused on a spot on the rug, trying to picture the scene. ¡°She said that they¡¯d come in that morning and they had orders right from the top.¡±


    Olivia inched toward me. ¡°Did she say it was from the coven mistress?¡±


    ¡°All she said was ¡®right from the top,¡¯ and that they were doing inventory stuff.¡±


    Jack Noctis leaned back in his armchair, folded his arms, and raised the pits of his eye sockets to the ceiling.


    Olivia took a lock of her hair, pressed it between her lips, and scowled. When she was done thinking, she pulled the hair out of her mouth and said, ¡°So Mother gets a call last night. There¡¯s a problem with the ward. She and the other witches go in and look around. They can¡¯t find anyone and everything looks the same. She says it¡¯s a false alarm¡ª¡±


    ¡°But she isn¡¯t sure,¡± Iset said, ¡°or problems with the wards are rare enough, she wants to be cautious.¡±


    Olivia took up the story line again. ¡°So she orders an inventory to make sure that nothing is missing.¡±


    I ran it all through my head once more before saying, ¡°Yeah. That makes sense.¡±


    ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t!¡±


    I held up both hands. ¡°Whoa! Geez! You¡¯re the one that said it.¡±


    ¡°Wards are basic magic. That means they¡¯re simple and strong. The most talented and powerful magicians in the world can¡¯t get inside a ward without breaking it, and that wouldn¡¯t have been a false alarm¡ªit would¡¯ve been an emergency!¡±


    I appealed for help. ¡°Iset?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid Olivia¡¯s right, Emerra. If you¡¯re inside an intact ward, it¡¯s because you were there before it went up.¡±


    ¡°Is that possible?¡± I asked. ¡°Could someone have hidden out until everyone else left?¡±


    ¡°This is ARC Hall we¡¯re talking about,¡± Olivia said. ¡°They keep track of everyone that comes and goes, and they do a search before they close up at night.¡±


    Iset added, ¡°And if someone did manage to somehow sneak in before the ward went up, then sneaking out again wouldn¡¯t have alerted the person maintaining it.¡±


    ¡°Could they have changed something about the ward?¡± I asked. ¡°Like, rearranged the parameters? Or something?¡±


    Olivia rolled her eyes and turned away so she wouldn¡¯t have to look at me. At last, I had managed to overwhelm her with my ignorance. Hail to the clueless champion!


    ¡°Not in this case,¡± Iset said. ¡°The metal lines they laid into the paving stones probably have a casting core which would make the ward spell a permanent fixture. To activate it, all a witch has to do is pour her power into it. People would notice if someone tried to change it.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s it?¡± My shoulders slumped. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­impossible?¡±


    ¡°It should be,¡± Olivia said. The words sounded definite, but her frown and the slight crease between her brow told another story.


    ¡°But¡­?¡± I prompted.


    Iset said, ¡°But it¡¯s hard to imagine them asking for an inventory unless they suspect that someone had found a way inside.¡±


    ¡°What were they after?¡± I asked.


    Jacky said, while still staring at the ceiling, ¡°Consider the mark of the thief.¡±


    Olivia and I looked at him.


    He lowered his skull. ¡°Whether it was information or an item, they were most likely there to steal something. And if they are a thief, that would answer an important question.¡±


    ¡°What question?¡± Olivia asked.


    ¡°Why Nolan Kirby isn¡¯t dead.¡±


    It had been a long and disappointing day. I¡¯d born up well under Olivia¡¯s attitude, but that meant that I had no patience left for any of Big Jacky¡¯s cryptic nonsense.


    ¡°Why?¡± I demanded.


    He trained his eye sockets on me. ¡°Because thieves aren¡¯t normally murderers.¡±

 Chapter 22 - Sammy

    ¡°Sammy.¡±


    Sammy was across the room. Kirby could hear him. There was a quiet rhythm to the noises: the clink of ceramics, one or two footsteps, the shuffle of something being pushed over an unknown surface.


    ¡°Sammy?¡±


    The rhythm of noises slowed, but they didn¡¯t stop.


    ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to talk to you,¡± Sammy grumbled.


    There was a whisper of air as Kirby sighed through his nose. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. That was¡±¡ªhe paused¡ª¡°my fault. I promise, I won¡¯t ask you to let me go again.¡±


    The random noises stopped; they were replaced by more footsteps. Sammy¡¯s voice came to him from somewhere closer; it was lower and slower than normal.


    ¡°What do you need?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m wondering if you¡¯re okay.¡±


    Sammy didn¡¯t answer.


    Kirby felt his stomach twist. He tugged on his ear and rubbed the back of his neck.


    This was too much for him. All the emotions. Feeling anxious every moment. After a few days, he¡¯d gotten used to the fear that made it feel as if his heart was beating inside a closed fist, and as time went on, the grip had eased. But he still moved in an abyss. There were no borders in his world, and too little known about the space around him. The only things he knew were the edge of the table in front of him, the chair he was resting on, the paths to the couch and the bathroom¡­and Sammy¡¯s voice.


    Sadness has a sound, Kirby thought.


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    He forced out a breath of laughter, and ignored the sting of guilt and frustration that came with it. ¡°You know, he was awfully mad¡ª¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not usually like that.¡±


    It was almost cheating; comments like that were sure to get Sammy talking.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Kirby asked.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Kirby tried to weigh what he could and couldn¡¯t say. ¡°I heard something,¡± he ventured. ¡°When he was yelling at you.¡±


    ¡°He hit the table.¡±


    There was a quiet clunk. Kirby had heard it before. He was pretty sure it was a cupboard. A second later, there was the sound of running water. Then footsteps.


    ¡°He didn¡¯t hurt you?¡± Kirby asked.


    He could feel Sammy¡¯s presence, towering over him. He was close. There was the sound of a glass being placed on the table.


    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t hurt me. He¡¯s not usually like that.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ve said,¡± Kirby muttered.


    He reached out, carefully feeling along the table for the glass of water. He heard Sammy pull out a chair a few feet away, followed by the soft sounds of wood settling. Then nothing.


    Kirby had never known a man that large to be so quiet.


    ¡°I messed up,¡± Sammy grumbled.


    Kirby stopped, his ears straining, but Sammy didn¡¯t feel the need to add anything to his statement.


    ¡°It didn¡¯t sound that way to me,¡± Kirby said. ¡°You did what he said. All those plans. Plan A¡ª¡±


    ¡°It was Plan B.¡± Sammy¡¯s voice took on the slightly higher tone that meant he was reciting something. ¡°¡®If something goes wrong, stay and listen.¡¯¡± His voice dropped again. ¡°He was still mad.¡±


    That was certainly true.


    ¡°Does he often get mad like that?¡± Kirby asked.


    For a while there was silence. Then:


    ¡°This is an important job. That¡¯s why we¡¯re staying¡ªwe wouldn¡¯t otherwise.¡± He added in a whisper, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    At first, nothing. A second later, the roots of the words dug their way into Kirby¡¯s mind.


    ¡°You¡¯re sorry?¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re saying sorry¡­to me?¡±


    ¡°If I didn¡¯t mess up, we could all go home.¡±


    The man¡¯s voice was husky, and there were tiny pauses between the words that made it sound as if he was holding back tears.


    ¡°No, Sammy.¡± Kirby reached out but felt only tabletop. ¡°It¡¯s all right. You didn¡¯t mess up.¡±


    Sammy didn¡¯t answer.


    Kirby sat back in his chair. ¡°My name is Kirby,¡± he said quietly.


    ¡°Kirby?¡± The sadness was gone from Sammy¡¯s voice. ¡°Like¡­like the pink guy?¡±


    Nolan smiled. ¡°Yeah. Like the little round pink guy.¡±


    His smile widened when he heard the soft, rhythmic exhales of Sammy¡¯s silent laugh.

 Chapter 23 - Facetime Call With a Bog-Monster

    After my shower that evening, I was standing by the chair I¡¯d adopted to keep track of my piles of clothes. Drop it on the floor if it¡¯s dirty and the seat if it¡¯s reusable. The back of the chair was reserved as my towel rack.


    Who says I¡¯m not organized?


    I¡¯d barely hung up my towel when I heard a bright electronic tone coming from one of the nightstands. I turned and saw my phone lit up and vibrating.


    ¡°Oh, shoot!¡±


    I dodged around the bed to grab it. Who on earth was calling me?


    If it happened more often, it might not have taken me so long to recognize my own ringtone.


    The name on the screen was Conrad Bauer.


    I accepted the call and smiled as I put the phone to my ear. ¡°Hey, Conrad.¡±


    ¡°Hey, Mera. Are you busy right now?¡±


    I sat down on the bed. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Thank god. Look, would you be willing to take a facetime call with Kappa?¡±


    ¡°Has he been asking about me?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    My smile changed to a grin when I heard the deep finality of Conrad¡¯s declaration. There was a chance that, some day, I would feel indifferent to knowing that Kappa worried about me when I was gone¡­but it was a slim chance.


    ¡°Put him on,¡± I said.


    A second later, I got the invite to switch over to my camera and accepted. I pulled my legs up onto the bed and leaned back on the headboard, tilting my phone to get better lighting. Conrad¡¯s camera was picking up nothing but a mess. The fuzzy image was mostly his chapped hand pads and a bit of fur, with a glimpse or two of undefinable background. The whole image kept freezing because he was moving his phone too fast. When it cleared up, I could see a view of the couch in the sitting room. Conrad was sitting at one end of it. Kappa was beside him, staring at the phone. The foreground was a line of dark wood that made me think Conrad had propped me up on the coffee table somehow.


    ¡°Hey, buddy!¡± I called.


    ¡°Mera?¡± Kappa leaned toward the phone, but then stopped and turned to look at Conrad.


    ¡°Go on.¡± He motioned toward me. ¡°That¡¯s her.¡±


    I waved. ¡°It¡¯s me, Kappa. I promise.¡±


    Kappa flopped off the couch, briefly disappearing from view, before his big black eyes and little fins popped up over the edge of the coffee table. ¡°Mera-mera?¡±


    ¡°Hey, sweetie. I¡¯ve missed you.¡±


    ¡°Mera!¡± He leaned in, filling my screen end to end with a close-up of his twitchy nose. He sniffed around the phone.


    I chuckled and said, ¡°Kappa, you don¡¯t have to get that close.¡±


    He backed up, but only a bit. ¡°Mera, where are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a few states away still, but you can see me on the screen, right? We can talk to each other.¡±


    He backed up a bit more and eyed the machine skeptically. Whatever magical devilry it was, he wasn¡¯t going to accept it without a good vetting.


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you here?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m helping Olivia, remember? I¡¯ll be home in a few days.¡±


    But I¡¯d misunderstood the question. He probably wanted to know why he could see me, but not smell me.


    The bulbs of his fingertips appeared on the edge of the coffee table. He pulled himself up so he could shove his nose against the phone. I laughed at the blurry macro-shot of his nostrils and the loud snuffing sounds.


    Then his mouth opened, and I caught a glimpse of his long teeth right before his oversized tongue eclipsed the entire view.


    ¡°Ewwww! No!¡± I cried at the same time I heard in the background, ¡°Kappa!¡±


    There were a few more confused images. I closed my eyes¡ªpartly because I was laughing that hard, and partly because I was squeamish about seeing a giant tongue moving my direction. When I opened them again, my view had changed. Kappa¡¯s inspection technique must have pushed the phone back on whatever was propping it up. I could see above the couch, closer to the ceiling.


    Conrad had picked Kappa up with one hand and was holding him over his head. The bog-creature¡¯s limbs were dangling between the wolfman¡¯s fingers, and Kappa grabbed onto his little webbed feet with his little webbed hands. He hung there, looking down at Conrad from above, seemingly content in his new aerial position.


    I almost died from an overdose of cute.


    ¡°Kappa,¡± Conrad said.


    Despite how serious the wolfman sounded, Kappa seemed to like the sound of his own name. The edges of his mouth turned up and the fins on the side of his face flitted like insect wings. ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°You know I love you?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°You know you¡¯re my buddy?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


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    ¡°Good. Don¡¯t lick my phone.¡±


    ¡°Kay!¡± Kappa pulled himself up, stood on Conrad¡¯s hand, and took a flying leap out of my view.


    ¡°Hey! Wait a¡ª¡± Conrad reached for his phone. I started getting the freeze frames of too-much-movement. I heard his voice. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯ll call you back in a minute.¡±


    ¡°Whenever,¡± I said.


    We hung up, and I let my phone rest on my chest as I replayed the last part of that call in my head to bask in the afterglow of¡­whatever that was. Delightful¡ªthat¡¯s what that was.


    My phone rang. Would I accept a non-facetime call from Conrad Bauer? Of course I would.


    I put my phone against my ear. ¡°Hello?¡±


    ¡°Hey,¡± Conrad said. ¡°Sorry about that. I had to clean my phone.¡±


    My nose wrinkled; it does that whenever I stifle a giggle. ¡°Do you want me to try talking to him again?¡±


    ¡°Nah. He put himself to bed a second ago. I¡¯m not sure he understands the concept of a phone. Thanks for trying though.¡±


    ¡°Any time.¡± Rarely have I uttered such a heartfelt sentiment. ¡°Is he taking good care of you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not dead yet. Any idea when you¡¯ll be home?¡±


    My smile faded. ¡°Sorry. No.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to apologize.¡± He paused. ¡°Is it a hard case?¡±


    My stomach sank. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    I pulled the blankets close, even the half that Olivia should''ve had rights to, and curled up with them.


    ¡°Do you want to talk about it?¡± Conrad asked.


    A faint smile spread over my face. I leaned back to let my head rest against the headboard.


    I told that poor guy everything.


    I started with a few observations about witches in general, and the Oliversens in particular.


    ¡°It¡¯s crazy, Conrad!¡± I whispered into the phone. ¡°Olivia makes so much more sense now. They¡¯re all these vicious thorned plants, and Olivia¡¯s this little vicious thorned plant struggling to survive in a hostile environment!¡±


    I told him about Rall Axton, who wasn¡¯t so much the token male as the token sane person.


    ¡°But I think he had a hard time buying the idea we were packmates¡ªwhich is weird because we look so much alike, you know?¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    I told him about running into Ashworth and the looming threat of the cocktail party I was supposed to be attending the next day unless an important lead suddenly materialized¡ªa prospect that was looking more and more unlikely by the second.


    ¡°I mean, what are you even supposed to wear to something like that?¡± I moaned.


    ¡°Would you believe me if I told you you¡¯re asking the wrong person?¡±


    I did believe him. As hard as I tried¡ªand as funny as it was¡ªI couldn¡¯t picture Conrad all dazzled up to go to some fancy soiree.


    ¡°Hey, Conrad, what would you wear to a cocktail party?¡±


    ¡°A fur coat.¡±


    I laughed. ¡°Isn¡¯t wearing a fur coat considered cruel?¡±


    ¡°So¡¯s being forced to go to a cocktail party.¡±


    ¡°I take it you¡¯re not a fan of parties?¡±


    ¡°Too many people.¡±


    Oh, my poor, shy wolfman. He had a hard time around people he didn¡¯t know, and he hated standing out. If he ever did go to a party, he¡¯d probably end up as a wallflower¡ªor, in his case, a wall-redwood.


    I told him almost everything about the case¡ªMrs. Lehm, ARC Hall, our assumptions, Autumn Langley, Nolan Kirby, and the lonely apothecary shop with its automatic lights shining down on an empty store¡ªbut I left out all the stuff I¡¯d learned about Olivia¡¯s abilities and her past. That was her story to tell, and I didn¡¯t know if she was trying to keep it a secret. But I definitely told him about my visions.


    He listened without saying a word.


    When I finished, I rested in the comfortable silence, curled up in my pile of blankets and pillows. I felt like I was a cocoon spun to cradle the fragile sadness and anxiety I had adopted.


    ¡°Are you okay, Mera?¡± Conrad asked.


    I took a deep breath. ¡°Yeah. I mean¡­sure.¡± I made a face that no one could see. ¡°I¡¯ve been through worse.¡±


    ¡°Just because you¡¯ve been through worse doesn¡¯t mean this isn¡¯t bad.¡±


    I closed my eyes so they wouldn¡¯t tear up. ¡°I think Autumn¡¯s in love with Kirby.¡±


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t surprise me.¡±


    ¡°I want to bring him home so that she can give him a hug and get his stupid phone number.¡±


    I heard a quiet chuff of air over the phone.


    ¡°Are you laughing at me?¡± I demanded.


    ¡°A bit.¡±


    ¡°This is a super serious situation!¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say I was laughing at the situation.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± I tried to put all the menace I could into that question, framing it, by my tone, as a warning to proceed with extreme caution.


    The wolfman wasn¡¯t intimidated.


    ¡°Mera, you¡¯ve shown me a lot of anime. By now I¡¯d be surprised if you weren¡¯t shipping two characters by the end of the first episode.¡±


    I opened my mouth, stalled, let out an indignant huff, and opened my mouth to try again. ¡°Okay. First of all, I haven¡¯t shown you that much anime.¡±


    He erupted in a loud laugh.


    I ignored the unseemly outburst and went on, ¡°Secondly, I usually have to wait until the second or third episode so I can meet all the characters!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, you¡¯re right. I didn¡¯t mean to imply you were an irresponsible shipper. Just a passionate one.¡±


    I felt my cheeks get warm.


    He went on, ¡°Some people might think it¡¯s not much of a motivation.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not¡ªwell, yes, that is part of my motivation, but it¡¯s not like that. I want¡ª¡± I shut my mouth. My cheeks became positively scorching. ¡°I want people to be happy.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Conrad said. ¡°You want to make the world a nicer place because you¡¯ve been there.¡±


    Stupid wolfman. He wasn¡¯t supposed to remember the dumb things I¡¯d said.


    ¡°Have you had any nightmares?¡± he asked.


    ¡°One so far.¡±


    ¡°Was it bad?¡±


    ¡°It was painful, but not really bad. It¡¯s a repeat of the vision I had¡ªdarkness and someone choking me out.¡±


    There was silence over the line.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can learn anything from it,¡± I said.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t what I was worried about,¡± Conrad grumbled. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re going to be okay?¡±


    A smile crept over my face. ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be on a vacation from me? If I need to curl up with someone and force them to watch anime, it¡¯ll have to be Olivia.¡±


    ¡°The girl you recently called a thorny little plant?¡±


    ¡°Any port in a storm, Conrad. And that girl owes me.¡±


    The door to the room opened. I looked up as Olivia stepped inside. She was in her pajamas. A damp towel and her dirty clothes were draped over her arm.


    ¡°Speak of the redheaded devil,¡± I said.


    I faced forward again and curled over so I was looking at the foot of the bed. It helped maintain some illusion of privacy. I had every intention of telling Conrad how much I appreciated his call, saying goodbye, then hanging up.


    But when I opened my mouth, the words couldn¡¯t get past the mash of emotions that spurted up from the mess in my chest. Seriously! It was like someone had crammed some Mentos of happiness and gratitude into a bottle of Sadness and Anxiety Cola?, brought to you by your friends at All My Old Issues, Inc.


    I was glad Conrad wasn¡¯t around to smell it. I had a hard time explaining why I felt sad whenever I felt too happy.


    Could I tell him I missed him?


    He didn¡¯t seem like the type who¡¯d read too much into it, but I didn¡¯t know if it¡¯d make him feel awkward. And Olivia was listening.


    They¡¯re not the problem. It¡¯s you. You think it¡¯s less real if you don¡¯t admit it out loud.


    I grabbed that insight, threw it into a deep, dark mental closet, and locked the door.


    I could thank him! That was a socially appropriate behavior that would let him know how I felt (or part of what I felt¡ªthe important part) without making anyone feel awkward.


    I swallowed the lump in my throat. ¡°Thank you for letting me talk to you for so long, Conrad.¡±


    ¡°Any time,¡± he said. ¡°See you in a few days.¡±


    ¡°Hey! Get some ointment for those poor toe-beans!¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t hear you. You must be going through a tunnel.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh. Good night, Conrad.¡±


    ¡°Good night.¡±


    We both hung up.


    Olivia was putting her clothes away.


    ¡°Were you talking about me?¡± she asked.


    I hooked my phone back up to its charging cord. ¡°We were talking about how friendly you were and whether or not I¡¯d be able to force you to watch some anime.¡±


    ¡°Unlikely.¡±


    ¡°But Netflix has this sweet, funny, pastel-toned series about the power of friendship and mushrooms!¡±


    She gave me a long, hostile look before turning back to her task and asking, ¡°What¡¯s it called?¡±


    I grinned like an imp. ¡°Little Witch Academia.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±

 Chapter 24 - Ive Got A Crime

    The next morning, I got ninja-ed by Rall Axton.


    Olivia and I were alone in the dining room, eating breakfast when he sauntered in, as casual as can be.


    ¡°Oh, Emerra! Are you busy this morning?¡±


    I blinked and stared at him for a second. Then I glanced at Olivia. Was I busy that morning? I wasn¡¯t sure.


    We had one big supposition¡ªthat the kidnapper was a thief¡ªand roughly a bajillion questions.


    Last night, Jacky and Olivia had proposed spending some time after breakfast writing down the questions and figuring out which ones were a) important, and b) possible to investigate, and working from there.


    Jacky had said, ¡°The most important question, I suspect, will be answered for us.¡±


    ¡°What question is that?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Whether or not they succeeded in getting to their target.¡±


    Olivia shook her head. ¡°If you¡¯re hoping some witch will tell us¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not all information comes in the form of a direct answer to a question. Whether the thief has succeeded, failed, or was there for more testing, it will affect their behavior.¡±


    ¡°Should we be watching ARC Hall?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if we have enough resources to watch the Hall and pursue our inquiries, but I¡¯ll regularly check to see if Nolan Kirby is still alive.¡±


    Olivia paled. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Unless he¡¯s willingly joined them¡ª¡±


    ¡°He would never do that!¡±


    Jacky stopped and gazed at his apprentice. I could see the sympathy lining the edges of his skull. ¡°Then, once the thief¡¯s job is done, they¡¯ll have to decide what to do with him.¡±


    As of that morning, Kirby had still been alive. Big Jacky had assured us of that the moment we met him in the hall. But relying on Jacky as our only ready source of information created a painful tension. My emotions were being held, suspended, like a stretched rubber band. The worst hadn¡¯t happened yet, but there was always the terrible chance that, the next time you asked, the answer would change.


    That tension only added to the frustration I felt when I considered that the next step in our plan¡ªthe best thing we could be doing¡ªwas sitting down to work out a list that would illustrate exactly how much we didn¡¯t know.


    I¡¯d rather be doing anything else.


    Rall said, ¡°You remember that thing we were talking about the other night? I thought I¡¯d take you out to see it.¡±


    My eyes widened.


    That was his idea of subtle? When it came to being a ninja, he clearly subscribed to Uzumaki Naruto¡¯s scream-and-run-at-it school of thought. Olivia was already watching me, her eyes full of suspicion.


    On the other hand, I had picked up the hint that he had something important to share with me, so I guess it worked.


    I turned to Olivia. ¡°Do you mind?¡±


    She chewed slowly, then swallowed. ¡°No.¡±


    No surprise there. She hadn¡¯t brought me along for my brains or my company, and she didn¡¯t need the Eyes of the Sphinx to write out a list of questions. But there was a hint of emotion, even in that one tiny syllable, that made me wonder if she wasn¡¯t as indifferent as she pretended to be.


    I said to Rall, ¡°Let me get my boots and coat.¡±


    While we walked, Rall explained what he¡¯d learned.


    ¡°You want crime, I¡¯ve got a crime. At least, we think it might be.¡±


    ¡°You sound so sure of yourself,¡± I said.


    He shrugged. ¡°What do you expect from the ol¡¯ geriatric gang? The boys love that, by the way.¡±


    I smiled. ¡°Do they?¡±


    ¡°It makes them feel exciting and dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Thug life,¡± I said while trying not to laugh.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they like the ¡®geriatric¡¯ part so much, but I told them there was no point in denying the obvious.¡±


    ¡°Tell me about this might-be-a-crime.¡±


    ¡°Barnaby Barlowe¡ªan unfortunate name, I know, but a loyal friend¡ªanyway, he swears that someone broke into his house last night.¡±


    ¡°That would be a crime, so why the uncertainty?¡±


    ¡°His wife thinks he¡¯s crazy.¡±


    Barnaby Barlowe. Meaning his wife would be Mrs. Barlowe. I heard an echo in my head of Olivia greeting someone by that name. She¡¯d been wearing a pointy black hat.


    ¡°Is Barnaby married to a witch?¡± I asked.


    ¡°He is. So, as you can imagine, Mrs. Barlowe was very sure of herself. Fortunately, Barney¡¯s got a stubborn streak in him, and he wouldn¡¯t be convinced.¡±


    ¡°Are all witches so¡­¡± I hunted around for a suitable word. Cocksure was the first one that occurred to me, but I didn¡¯t think it¡¯d be diplomatic. ¡°Confident?¡±


    Rall took three or four steps before he answered. ¡°I think most of them are. It¡¯s easy to be confident when you¡¯re powerful. The ones whose personalities don¡¯t lend themselves to confidence learn to fake it, or risk being lost in the background.¡± He glanced toward me. ¡°It changes things, you know. It changes relationships. The men of Craftborough are a different breed.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°Men out there in the real world go into their relationships knowing that they¡¯re more powerful than their women.¡±


    I gave him a snooty look. ¡°You think men are more powerful than women?¡±


    ¡°Often. If only physically. Let me put it another way. I think that, out there, the women know that, when the chips are down, they would probably lose in a fight.¡±


    He was right. I didn¡¯t like it, but I knew he was right.


    He went on, ¡°If Ellis and I ever got into a no-holds-barred fight, you¡¯d be scraping what was left of me off the walls, and it might be enough to fill a teaspoon. She knows it, and I know it. If a witch ever backs down, it¡¯s because she loves you and she wants to preserve the relationship¡ªnot because she had to. Power is part of what defines a relationship. I¡¯m not saying it¡¯s everything, but it makes a difference. Who can say what, why they choose to back down, how much is fear, and how much is trust.¡±


    We walked a few feet in silence.


    ¡°Has Ellis ever backed down?¡± I asked.


    Rall laughed. ¡°She¡¯s never had to. I¡¯m far, far, too easy-going for my own good. Who needs all that conflict and friction? I grew up in a family full of powerful people, and I learned that the fastest route to a happy life was letting others have their way. I¡¯ll dress how you want me to dress, do what you want me to do¡ªyou only have to give me some free time and laugh at a few of my jokes and I¡¯m content. ¡±


    I connected with that last line on a bone-deep level. Maybe it was a survivor¡¯s trick. He and I had both grown up in a place where we knew we¡¯d never get our way, so we¡¯d learned to be happy without it.


    But a trick can mean ¡°a neat thing you do to make something work¡± or ¡°a magician¡¯s illusion.¡± There were times, even when I was cracking jokes, that I could feel a lonely resignation leeching at my heart.


    ¡°Rall, have you ever wished things were different?¡±


    His easy-going smile faltered. ¡°A few times. I wish I¡¯d stood up for Olivia more when she was younger¡ªduring that whole school debacle. I don¡¯t know if it would¡¯ve changed anything, but it would sit easier with my conscience. The problem is that standing up takes practice. When the time came for me to say something, I didn¡¯t know what to say.¡± He sighed and raised his head to gaze up at the sky. ¡°Maybe that¡¯s why I¡¯m so eager to help her when I can. Maybe I¡¯m still trying to make it up to her.¡±


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    My chest swelled with sympathy. I reached out and patted his shoulder.


    We turned a corner, and before Rall said anything, I knew we¡¯d arrived at our destination. Three people were standing out on the front sidewalk of the modestly sized house. One of them I recognized as the witch that had ushered me, Olivia, and Jacky into the room where Olivia would give her report. The other witch was Officer Tarah Ansel.


    I felt the sudden urge to look innocent.


    Between the two witches was an older man with a full beard that led up to a gray and brown fringe of hair that wrapped around the back of his head. He was wearing a polo shirt, a coat, and a smug expression. He called out as soon as Rall and I were in earshot.


    ¡°Rall, I was right! I told you, I was right!¡± Barnaby kept talking as we approached. ¡°Someone did break in.¡± He turned to his wife. ¡°I told you.¡±


    Mrs. Barlowe must have decided she loved him and wanted to preserve the relationship. ¡°Yes, honey. You were right.¡±


    Barnaby glowed with pleasure.


    Ansel said, ¡°Good morning, Miss Cole. Are you here in your capacity as an amateur detective?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Just call me Sherlock.¡±


    She said to Rall, ¡°Does that make you Watson?¡±


    ¡°At best, I¡¯d be Toby.¡±


    From the way Ansel rolled her eyes, I guessed that Rall had cracked a joke. I made a mental note to look up the reference later.


    ¡°What are you all doing out here?¡± Rall asked. ¡°It¡¯s a bit chilly for an outdoor conference.¡±


    ¡°The chief and I have to stay out here,¡± Mrs. Barlowe explained. ¡°We¡¯re checking for magic traces.¡±


    Rall turned to Ansel. ¡°You¡¯re not doing it yourself?¡±


    ¡°I wanted to use someone more sensitive,¡± she said.


    ¡°And I¡¯m out here telling the chief how it all happened,¡± Barney said. ¡°How I was right.¡±


    ¡°Then don¡¯t let us interrupt you!¡± Rall swept both hands toward his friend to encourage him. ¡°Go on! Tell us!¡±


    That was all the excuse Mr. Barlowe needed to resume his place in center stage. He looked at the chief. ¡°Where was I?¡±


    Ansel glanced down at the notepad in her hand. ¡°You¡¯d come downstairs after hearing a noise and found nothing. You said you checked the whole house.¡±


    Barnaby snapped his fingers. ¡°That¡¯s right. Nothing. No broken windows. Nothing fallen to the floor. No one in the house. Nothing out of place. Eventually I went back to bed, but I knew I¡¯d heard something. It left me uneasy. I must have stayed up for another hour, listening.¡±


    ¡°He was back to snoring in under ten minutes,¡± Mrs. Barlowe said.


    Ansel tapped her pen on her notebook. ¡°Did you happen to notice if the jug was missing when you searched the place?¡±


    ¡°What jug?¡± Rall asked.


    ¡°The bastard stole one of my wine jugs!¡± Barnaby said. ¡°Can you believe it?¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± Rall turned and muttered to me, ¡°Barnaby here makes wine as a hobby.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a business!¡± Barnaby cried. ¡°Or it will be someday.¡± He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. ¡°Probably.¡±


    Once again, his wife felt the need to correct him: ¡°It¡¯s a nuisance.¡±


    Ansel raised her voice. ¡°And did you happen to notice if it was missing when you searched the house?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Barnaby said. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I didn¡¯t notice it was gone at all. The missus noticed the gap in my line up while I was out walking with this fellow.¡± He jerked his thumb toward Rall.


    Ansel said, ¡°So it¡¯s possible the sound you heard was the thief leaving with the jug?¡±


    ¡°Then who unlocked the door?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±


    ¡°I told you, I checked the whole house. You don¡¯t think I checked the door? It was locked! Then, when I went out for my walk this morning, the door was unlocked. It¡¯s only me and Sarah at home right now, and she was still in the kitchen, working on her first cup of coffee.¡± Barnaby wagged his index finger in the air. ¡°That¡¯s why I knew I wasn¡¯t imagining things.¡± He tilted his head to motion to his wife. ¡°She said I was.¡±


    She patted his arm. ¡°Yes, dear. Forgive me.¡±


    Ansel¡¯s brows pulled together. ¡°Let me get this straight. Last night, around midnight, you heard a noise. You went downstairs, searched the whole house, and found nothing out of place. The door was locked. When you went down this morning, the door was unlocked, and around¡±¡ªshe checked her notes¡ª¡°seven, Mrs. Barlowe noticed the jug was gone.¡±


    Mrs. Barlowe nodded.


    ¡°Was it a full jug?¡± Ansel asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Mrs. Barlowe said. ¡°It was one of the empty ones.¡±


    ¡°Why would someone steal an empty jug?¡± I asked.


    I felt the urge to squirm when all their eyes turned to me, but I resisted. Sherlock Holmes never squirmed.


    I went on, ¡°Was it worth a lot of money?¡±


    Relief! The majority of the eyes moved from me to Barnaby.


    ¡°Not really,¡± he said. ¡°If you know where to go, you can get them for as little as thirteen dollars.¡±


    ¡°And it¡¯s not like they¡¯re useful,¡± his wife grumbled.


    ¡°Breaking into a locked house is a pretty big deal,¡± I said. ¡°Would a thief break into a witch¡¯s house for something that only cost thirteen bucks?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s festival time,¡± Mrs. Barlowe noted. ¡°We get a lot of visitors that might not know I¡¯m a witch.¡±


    ¡°But Miss Cole has a point,¡± Ansel said. ¡°Even if they didn¡¯t know you¡¯re a witch, most criminals won¡¯t break into a house for something that cheap. Was there something about this jug that made it special?¡±


    Barnaby frowned. ¡°It was nothing but a standard five-gallon glass jug. You can get them anywhere.¡±


    ¡°Not anywhere, honey,¡± Mrs. Barlowe said. ¡°If you could get them anywhere, we wouldn¡¯t be spending so much in shipping.¡±


    The chief glanced up from her notebook. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    Barnaby waved his hand in front of his face. ¡°It¡¯s nothing important. I said you could get them anywhere, but Sarah¡¯s right¡ªI ship mine in. It¡¯s easier than driving all over creation trying to find a specialty shop.¡±


    ¡°Did you notice anything else that seemed unusual to you?¡±


    Barnaby shook his head.


    ¡°Did you sense any magic or see anything unusual?¡± Ansel asked Mrs. Barlowe.


    ¡°Not a thing.¡±


    The chief let out a sigh. ¡°All right. I¡¯ll make a report, but I should warn you now, Mr. Barlowe, stolen goods, especially generic ones, are hard to retrieve.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve resigned myself,¡± he said cheerfully.


    I was willing to bet that he would¡¯ve paid a lot more than thirteen dollars for that kind of vindication. Considering how much his wife went around correcting him, I could understand why.


    The front door of the Barlowes¡¯ house opened. Since Rall was facing that direction, he was the first to see who emerged. He muttered a curse and lowered his head.


    I glanced over.


    Nylah Oliversen was descending the porch steps and glaring at her stepfather.


    I would''ve put my hand up to block her view of my face, but thanks to my bald head, for it to be effective, I''d have to drop to the ground and scuttle off, lizard style.


    ¡°Anything?¡± Ansel asked.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Nylah said as she reached us. She turned to Rall. ¡°What are you doing here, Father?¡±


    Rall must not have had a decent lie ready. He went on the offensive.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know that the chief was calling you in to help with investigations!¡± he said, loud and proud.


    Nylah wasn¡¯t prepared for such an enthusiastic assault. She looked down, cleared her throat, and looked up again. Too bad for her, she¡¯d looked up into Rall¡¯s beaming face. She blushed, but didn¡¯t look away again.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t often,¡± she said.


    Ansel explained, ¡°My own sensitivity is usually good enough, but considering recent circumstances, I thought a little more thoroughness was called for.¡±


    Mrs. Barlowe said, ¡°Can we go inside now?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Ansel said. ¡°Everything¡¯s been checked. Thank you for your patience.¡±


    ¡°Would you all like to come in for a warm drink before you go?¡± Barnaby asked.


    ¡°Thank you, Mr. Barlowe, but I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve got work to do.¡±


    The Barlowes waved goodbye and went into their house.


    Nylah said, ¡°Is there anything else, Chief?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Ansel said. ¡°That¡¯s the last one. Are you going to be busy today?¡±


    ¡°Not until seven o¡¯clock. You can call me again if you need me.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Ansel put her notebook away and turned to her patrol car.


    As I watched her walk away, my conflicting motivations nearly tore me in two. I really, really wanted to talk to Ansel, but my instincts insisted that annoying the witch who¡¯d nearly arrested me was a bad idea.


    But she was the only police officer in town! Who else was I supposed to annoy?


    There was Nylah, of course, but she''d probably refuse to tell me anything since I had the audacity to live in the same house as her sister. Oh. There was also that minor matter of me thumbing my nose at her snobbery the day we''d met.


    If Officer Ansel refused to tell me anything, it would only be because she suspected I had criminal tendencies.


    I lunged after her. ¡°Hey! Chief!¡±


    Ansel stopped with her hand on her open car door. I jogged around the car and stood beside her.


    ¡°What can I do for you, Miss Cole?¡± There was no mistaking the weariness in her voice.


    ¡°Would you be willing to tell me who else¡¯s house was broken into last night?¡±


    ¡°What makes you so sure that anywhere else was broken into?¡±


    ¡°Because you said this was ¡®the last one.¡¯ That usually means there were others.¡±


    No matter how much she narrowed her eyes, she could find no flaw in my logic.


    ¡°Miss Cole¡ª¡± she started.


    I cut her off. ¡°Please. You know why we¡¯re doing this.¡±


    Ansel let out another sigh. It was deep and full of exhaustion. I was looking at a woman who¡¯d spent too much time separated from her much-needed coffee mug.


    ¡°If I do this,¡± she said, ¡°I want your word that there won¡¯t be any more ¡®book borrowing.¡¯ You and Olivia work above the board. No more sneaking around and snooping into places you shouldn¡¯t be.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about, Officer Ansel, but I promise that if the urge hits us, we¡¯ll refrain.¡±


    ¡°I got two other calls this morning. One was from Doc Morgan. The other was from Ms. Hamlin. If you want the story, you¡¯ll have to talk to them. And don¡¯t you dare pretend that I sent you.¡±


    ¡°What was stolen?¡±


    ¡°As far as we can tell, nothing.¡±


    ¡°Then how do you know their places were broken into?¡±


    ¡°Because the door windows near the locks were smashed in. Tell me if you learn anything interesting.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely.¡± I nodded as well, to demonstrate the depth of our accord.


    Ansel gave me one last look before she got in her patrol car and drove away.


    I wandered back to where Rall was standing on the sidewalk. Nylah was already half a block away, headed in the direction of her home. We watched her go.


    ¡°Did you tell her anything?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I told her we were out taking a walk and happened to run into Barney, but I¡¯m not sure she believed me,¡± he said.


    ¡°Do you think she¡¯ll tell Ellis or Olivia?¡±


    ¡°Oh, she¡¯d never tell Ellis. But she might confront Olivia.¡±


    ¡°Confront her?¡±


    ¡°You know¡ªWhat are you doing? Why did you send them?¡ªthat kind of thing.¡±


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t occur to her that we might be doing this on our own?¡±


    He looked at me. ¡°Well, we aren¡¯t, exactly, are we?¡±


    That was true. We were doing it for Olivia. She just happened to be ignorant of that fact.


    ¡°Do you know Doc Morgan and Ms. Hamlin, by any chance?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Of course I do. He¡¯s our local doctor, and she runs the hardware store.¡±


    ¡°Can you give me their addresses?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be happy to guide you there myself.¡±


    I waved off his generosity. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do that.¡±


    ¡°I do. I can walk there, but I don¡¯t know the addresses.¡±


    ¡°Ah. Then, please, lead on.¡±


    We turned and continued down the sidewalk, heading away from Nylah. Thankfully.


    I gazed around the neighborhood as we walked. The variety of shapes and colors made the houses stand out from the uniform background of gray clouds and white snow. My eyes moved from one to the next, delighting in their uniqueness and old-fashioned charm.


    ¡°Why haven¡¯t you guys replaced your old doors with something more secure?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Pardon?¡± Rall said.


    ¡°Ansel said that the windows in their doors were broken.¡± I pointed to the house we were passing. Like most of the other houses, the majority of its upper half was made of glass panes.


    ¡°A lot of these houses were made before electric lights were installed,¡± Rall explained. ¡°They put windows in everywhere they could to let in the daylight. Have you noticed the transoms in our home?¡±


    ¡°Ummm¡ª¡±


    ¡°Those windows above our interior doors?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the same thing.¡±


    ¡°But those doors are a huge security risk.¡±


    Rall thought for a second. ¡°I don¡¯t know that we¡¯ve ever worried about it. I¡¯ve lived in Craftborough nearly all my life. This is the first time I¡¯ve ever heard of someone breaking in. That¡¯s another problem with power. It makes you blind to a lot of risks.¡±

 Chapter 25 - On the Trail

    We went straight to the hardware store because, as Rall told me, that¡¯s where we¡¯d find Betty Hamlin. If there¡¯d been a death in the family, she would have only been there ten minutes late. A burglary wouldn¡¯t delay her at all.


    It¡¯s a good thing we did. The theft actually took place at the store, not her house. The store was in one of the old buildings that were the heart and soul of Craftborough. It was two stories tall with inventory on both floors. We found Ms. Hamlin at the front door, repairing the window herself. We gathered all the details we could, but when we asked her what was stolen, she shrugged.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± Rall sounded surprised.


    ¡°Rall Axton, do you have any idea how large my inventory is? I checked the expensive stuff and the dangerous stuff¡ªit was all there. If they took something small, let ¡®em have it. It¡¯s not worth my time to count every screw and nail.¡±


    Dr. Morgan was more of a stickler. We found him leaning over a counter, counting every tiny piece of disposable equipment in one of a dozen similar bins.


    ¡°I have to keep track,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s a serious matter when someone breaks into a doctor¡¯s office.¡±


    ¡°Did you check all the medicine?¡± Rall asked.


    ¡°It was the first thing I checked. The lock and the safe were both intact. Nothing was missing.¡±


    ¡°Is anything missing?¡± I asked.


    Dr. Morgan stretched, then rubbed his eyes under his glasses with his thumb and index finger. ¡°A needle.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure I¡¯d heard him right. ¡°A¡­needle?¡±


    ¡°A hypodermic needle.¡±


    ¡°You mean the kind that you use for injections and blood drawing?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Okay. I hadn¡¯t misheard. Maybe I¡¯d misunderstood. ¡°Do you mean only the tip? Like, the needle part of the needle¡ªnot a needle with a syringe?¡±


    ¡°Only the needle. No syringe.¡±


    ¡°How many did they take?¡±


    ¡°One.¡±


    If he¡¯d noticed that only one needle had gone missing, this man was more than a normal stickler. He could probably give Count Vasil a run for his money.


    ¡°Are you sure you didn¡¯t miscount?¡± Rall asked.


    ¡°After the third time I counted, I was sure.¡±


    I felt like bowing. Long live King Stickler!


    We got all the details from His Majesty, then left him to continue his counting. I was walking down the front steps in a thoughtful mood when I caught sight of a trail. Like Kirby¡¯s place, the doctor¡¯s house doubled as his office. Unlike Kirby¡¯s place, this building had a front and back yard. Along the side of the building, leading from the front to the back, was a disturbed line of snow. Someone had gone through the trouble of scuffing out their footprints as they walked. I thought I had a shrewd guess who.


    Rall saw me bend down over the trail and came to stand beside me.


    ¡°What is it?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Footprints,¡± I said.


    Rall Axton had a good sense of both comedic and conversational timing. With him around, even short pauses were unusual. When I noticed that an unexpected one had slipped in after my statement, I looked up.


    Rall was eyeing me. ¡°You really are a Sherlock, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    My tiny smile was lopsided and I felt my nose crinkle a bit. ¡°Like I told Ansel, I¡¯m just an obnoxious amateur.¡± I pointed to the boot prints next to the scuffed-up trail. ¡°I think these footprints are hers. They¡¯re about my size, and you can see, she was being careful not to mess up the other trail.¡±


    ¡°Shall we follow her and see where the trail leads, Miss Cole?¡±


    ¡°I think we shall, Mr. Axton.¡±


    Rall and I were also careful to stay off of the scuffed-up trail. It led us around the side of the house and ended at the fence in Dr. Morgan¡¯s backyard.


    ¡°Can you boost me up?¡± I asked.


    Rall laced his fingers together to give me a step. When I was balanced on his hands, I could easily see over the top.


    ¡°Anything?¡± he said.


    I pushed myself up and jumped to the other side.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a yes,¡± he said.


    ¡°The trail keeps going,¡± I called over the fence. ¡°You can walk around. I think it¡¯s heading to the side street that wraps around this block.¡±


    Rall found me a minute later, sitting on the curb with my boots in the slush that had been thrown to the side of the road by the plow. He had to cross the road to get to me.


    Rather than get his slacks muddy and wet, he decided to stand in the clear road.


    ¡°What are you doing over here?¡± he asked. ¡°Ansel¡¯s footprints stop with the trail.¡±


    It took me a moment to untangle myself from all the thoughts cluttering up my head so I could answer.


    ¡°I hadn¡¯t thought about it,¡± I admitted to him. ¡°But that¡¯s what Ansel probably thought, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ve lost me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m so used to walking everywhere around here¡ªOlivia said most people walk¡ªbut if you¡¯d just stolen something¡ªespecially if you had to break a window to do it¡ªyou¡¯d probably want to get away from there quickly. But you wouldn¡¯t want to park out on the main street, because that meant your car would be easier to spot.¡±


    Rall said, ¡°So they came around to the side street.¡± He glanced to the other side of the street, then turned to face me again. ¡°The trail does end there. It makes sense if the thief had a car waiting for them.¡±


    I shook my head.


    ¡°No?¡± Rall said.


    ¡°The trail doesn¡¯t end there. It disappears there because you plow the roads and keep them clean. But, you see, I¡¯m an idiot. I assumed the thief would be walking, just like me, so I kept going to the other side of the road. The car wasn¡¯t parked over there. It was parked here.¡±


    ¡°How can you tell?¡±


    I jerked my thumb toward the smear of snow beside me. ¡°Because the thief destroyed all their footprints over here too¡ªor as much as they could.¡±


    ¡°As much as they could?¡±


    I stood up and batted some of the grunge off my backside. ¡°I think the jig is up, Rall. Are you ready to turn in your ninja yoroi?¡±


    ¡°Must I?¡±


    ¡°This is too important. I have to call Olivia and let her know what we¡¯ve found. She¡¯s a smart witch, so she¡¯s going to know that we¡¯ve been working together.¡±


    His expression became one of admirable resolve. ¡°I understand.¡± He pointed at me. ¡°Don¡¯t forget, I tricked you into telling me everything.¡±


    ¡°Your sacrifice will always be remembered, sir.¡±


    We saluted each other as two comrades would when one of them is going into a dangerous mission. I pulled out my phone and dialed.


    ¡°Where the hell are you?¡± Olivia demanded the second she picked up my call. ¡°It¡¯s noon.¡±


    ¡°Olivia, I¡¯ve found something.¡±


    ¡°I thought you were out sight-seeing with my father.¡±


    ¡°Our thief broke into three different places last night. I¡¯ve been going around getting as many details as I can.¡±


    There was a pause.


    ¡°What makes you think it¡¯s our thief?¡± Olivia said.


    I looked at the snow beside me. ¡°Something Mrs. Lehm said.¡±


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Olivia¡¯s voice deepened so it could hold the ocean of sarcasm that flowed into her statement: ¡°Oh. Goody. More trigonometry homework.¡±


    I glanced down at the snow again. The thief had smeared out most of the print, but the last of it¡ªthe bit that was left behind when they lifted their foot from the snow¡ªwas still clear enough for me to make out each individual toe.


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°Someone¡¯s been out here barefoot.¡±


    There was a longer pause.


    ¡°Where are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m near Doc Morgan¡¯s place.¡±


    ¡°Autumn wants to meet us for lunch. Can you walk back to the town center?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll meet you there.¡±


    The town center had been transformed from one day to the next. The once open park was now a maze of tents, booths, and rope guides. All of the festival¡¯s main structures had been set up. There wasn''t any entertainment scheduled for that day, but small groups of people had already gathered around the gas firepits that a few serious-faced individuals were still checking. The early vendors had opened to cater to their needs.


    Business was business. As long as people were standing around, they might as well make some money.


    I spotted Jacky, Olivia and Autumn, hidden among all the booths. When I jogged up to the group, Olivia greeted me with the consideration and kindness I knew I could count on.


    ¡°Where¡¯s my father?¡±


    I watched her as I tried to decide what to say. Her eyes were cold, and her face was stern.


    ¡°He went home,¡± I said at last.


    Maybe she¡¯d catch the hint and let it go.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Or maybe not.


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d be welcome.¡±


    I¡¯d kept my voice gentle and neutral, but any diplomacy used on that girl was a waste of effort.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t he call me and ask?¡± Olivia demanded.


    My temper flared. ¡°Maybe he didn¡¯t want to get snapped at!¡±


    The two of us glared at each other¡ªtwo piranhas, facing off in a river of irritation and feeling oh-so snappish, indeed.


    Jacky stepped between us. A skeleton probably doesn¡¯t have a lot to fear from piranhas.


    ¡°Olivia said that you found something,¡± he said.


    ¡°Can we please get something to eat first?¡± On cue, my stomach growled with comedic volume. ¡°I¡¯m a little hungry.¡±


    Autumn¡¯s laugh dissipated all my grumpiness. She put one arm around me and one arm around Olivia. ¡°Come on, you two. How does some street food sound?¡±


    We found a truck that was selling something hot and suitably unhealthy, and got three orders to-go and three hot chocolates. We found a bench in the nearby park and ate in silence. Since I¡¯d scarfed my fare with all the grace of a starving dog, I was done before Olivia and Autumn. Jacky and I talked while they finished.


    ¡°The Barlowe¡¯s house was the first one hit,¡± I said. ¡°Mr. Barlowe heard the noise around midnight. The hardware store was probably next, but we don¡¯t have an exact time. Ms. Hamlin says she didn¡¯t leave the store before midnight, while someone in the neighborhood said they were taking their new puppy out to relieve itself around three in the morning, and they noticed the window was broken. Doc Morgan couldn¡¯t remember when he came downstairs, but he thought it was closer to four in the morning.¡±


    ¡°What noise woke him up?¡± Jacky asked.


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t sure about that either. He said it was loud enough to wake him, and that¡¯s all he remembers. It could have been the window or the door.¡±


    Jacky gazed off into the distance. ¡°The times might not be certain, but the relative order seems to be straight forward¡ªthe Barlowes¡¯, the hardware store, and then the doctor¡¯s.¡±


    Autumn crinkled her wrapper up in her hand. ¡°Are we sure the break-ins were all done by the same person?¡±


    Oh! I knew this one!


    ¡°There can always be more than one person.¡± I shook my finger in the air. ¡°Never forget that.¡±


    Jacky added, ¡°But neither can we ignore the possibility that it could¡¯ve been done by one person. There was enough time.¡±


    ¡°Enough time, yes,¡± Autumn said. ¡°But why would the thief pick the lock on the first house, then break the windows for the other two places?¡±


    ¡°Maybe the locks on the last two places were different,¡± Olivia suggested. ¡°The Barlowes¡¯ was a private home, but the hardware store and Doc Morgan¡¯s were businesses.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never concerned myself with locks,¡± Jacky said. ¡°Emerra, did you notice them?¡±


    Behind my sternum, a discontent hum vibrated like an indignant speck. I didn''t know much more about locks than Jacky did, but I''d known a few interesting people, and at least one of them had made a special study of various ways to get past them. From what she¡¯d said, if a lock took a straight metal key, they were pretty much the same when it came to picking them.


    Everyone was watching me, waiting for my answer.


    ¡°I mean, we can check them,¡± I said, squashing the speck. ¡°I didn¡¯t notice the locks particularly. But if someone picked the lock on the Barlowes¡¯ door, why would they lock it again once they were inside?¡±


    Big Jacky¡¯s empty sockets stared at me. ¡°I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re not leading well.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    Olivia said, ¡°I think he means he¡¯s not following.¡±


    I turned from her to him. ¡°Oh, but this way it¡¯s my fault?¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Jacky,¡± I said, ¡°remember what Mr. Barlowe said¡ªhe heard the noise, he went downstairs, and when he checked the door, it was locked.¡±


    ¡°He also said that when he searched the house he didn¡¯t find anyone. It¡¯s possible the thief hadn¡¯t broken in yet.¡±


    That sounded profoundly unlikely to me, but I didn¡¯t have a better explanation. How had the thief gotten in if he hadn¡¯t picked the lock? If he had picked the lock, why would he lock it behind himself while he was in there, only to leave it unlocked when he left? Unlikely or not, Jacky¡¯s explanation made the most sense. Barlowe heard a noise. It wasn¡¯t the thief. The thief picked the lock and came in later.


    I scowled and took a sip of my cocoa.


    Autumn said, ¡°I¡¯m less worried about the locks than I am about that footprint.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Jacky mused. ¡°I believe Emerra''s right. Mrs. Lehm assumed that they belonged to Kirby, but only the thief would bother to obliterate their tracks. The bare footprints probably belong to them.¡±


    ¡°But what good did scraping out their tracks do?¡± Autumn asked. ¡°You could still follow where they went!¡±


    ¡°They probably didn¡¯t want to be identified by their footprints,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°All right, but why weren¡¯t they wearing shoes? It¡¯s awfully cold to be running around barefoot.¡±


    There should have been cricket noises. It was the middle of February, the sun high in the sky, and the air was filled with the chatter and laughter of the dozens of people around us¡ªbut there should¡¯ve been crickets. If I¡¯d had a sound recording on my phone, I would¡¯ve played it. It was that kind of silence.


    The only explanation I could come up with was something about the staggering number of weirdos in the world.


    ¡°We may have to leave that question for later,¡± Jacky said.


    The rest of us nodded. There wasn¡¯t much point trying to decipher the life choices of a weirdo.


    He went on, ¡°We must speculate.¡±


    ¡°You mean more than we already have been?¡± Olivia grumbled.


    ¡°In the absence of knowledge, it¡¯s all we can do.¡±


    Olivia didn¡¯t have a quip for that comment.


    Big Jacky went on, ¡°I think it¡¯s safe to assume that these thefts, whether they were carried out by one person or more than one person, are all related.¡±


    ¡°Why would you assume that?¡± Autumn asked.


    ¡°The bare footprint already ties these crimes to Kirby''s kidnapping, and Olivia has conjectured that, considering how rare crimes are in this community, concurrent incidents are more likely to be related than not. If we accepted that as true with the incident at ARC Hall, then the same logic applies here. Which is more reasonable to assume¡ªthat there¡¯s one driving motivation behind all three thefts, or that three different people all decided to act on their own on the same night?¡± Jacky paused to see if there¡¯d be a response. When there wasn¡¯t, he added, ¡°There¡¯s also the similarity between the three thefts.¡±


    ¡°Only the last two were the same,¡± I pointed out.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t considering how the thief gained entry,¡± Jacky said. ¡°I was thinking of what was stolen.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know what was stolen from the hardware store,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°We know that it wasn¡¯t expensive, and we know that it wasn¡¯t dangerous.¡±


    I mused, ¡°And I think Ms. Hamlin would have mentioned if it was money.¡±


    Jacky continued, ¡°In all three cases, the item stolen was relatively cheap. Since the thief couldn¡¯t expect to sell them, they must have wanted to use them.¡±


    ¡°But if they weren¡¯t expensive, why didn¡¯t they go in and buy them?¡± Olivia asked.


    Autumn let out a quiet groan. ¡°Olivia, honey, I¡¯m awfully glad you¡¯ve never been that poor¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s not it.¡± My sudden interjection surprised everyone, including myself. I looked up at them. ¡°You can¡¯t buy them. Mr. Barlowe orders in his jugs because you can¡¯t buy them anywhere around here. Those little needles aren¡¯t expensive, but you¡¯d probably have to drive for a few hours before you could find a medical supply store that sells them. And how much would you stand out if you tried to buy only one?¡±


    ¡°What about the hardware store?¡± Jacky asked. ¡°Presumably the thief could have purchased whatever they stole from there.¡±


    My mouth started moving while my brain was still churning over the question. ¡°What if it¡¯s something like that¡ªlike the needle? They can¡¯t buy it because if they bought it, it¡¯d stand out. Especially in a small town.¡±


    Jack Noctis was impressed. You could hear it in his voice. ¡°That sounds reasonable.¡±


    I beamed. Think before you speak? Not this chump!


    ¡°How did they know that Mr. Barlowe made wine?¡± Autumn asked.


    ¡°Insider knowledge,¡± Jacky said. His voice was off-handed.


    ¡°You think they live in town?¡±


    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t have to. They could¡¯ve asked Kirby.¡±


    Autumn¡¯s relaxed expression faltered. I could see a flash of tension pull the corners of her mouth into a frown.


    Kirby was there, hidden behind all of this¡ªa lost figure in the shadows. We¡¯d been so busy trying to bash out what we knew about the thefts, we¡¯d forgotten we were looking for a kidnapper.


    My heart squeezed up with sorrow.


    Jacky put his hands in his pants pockets and raised his skull. ¡°What can we learn from what they stole?¡± he asked the sky.


    ¡°If they stole the stuff rather than drive out and buy it or order it in,¡± Olivia said, ¡°either they¡¯re in a hurry, or they can¡¯t leave town.¡±


    ¡°Or both,¡± I added.


    Autumn¡¯s eyes scanned the cluttered horizon, broken up by the booths, ropes, heaters, and people. ¡°Could it be about the festival?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s possible,¡± Jacky said. ¡°Even likely. They could be here for the festival, or they could be using it as a cover. If the festival doubles the population, it doubles the number of suspects.¡±


    Olivia said, ¡°If they did steal those things to use them, that means they haven¡¯t accomplished their objective. And considering all they¡¯ve gone through, it¡¯s not going to be something small.¡±


    Jacky bent his skull in a single nod. ¡°I agree. The circumstances of these other thefts also raise an alarming possibility about the incident at ARC Hall.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve been assuming that because the ward was tripped and no one was found inside, the perpetrator either failed in their objective, or they were testing the ward. But what if they succeeded? What if they were after another element needed to help them in their larger objective? If it was a piece of information, or if the object they stole was small enough and of seemingly little importance, it might have been overlooked during the inventory.¡±


    Autumn, Olivia, and I all exchanged uneasy glances. It was hard to imagine someone successfully breaking into ARC Hall¡ªyou know, what with it being impossible and everything¡ªbut it was equally difficult to imagine why someone thought it¡¯d be worth their time to steal a single hypodermic needle.


    Jacky didn¡¯t join in our friendly pooling of anxious looks. He was staring out at nothing again. When he spoke, his voice was quiet.


    ¡°A glass jug, a hypodermic needle, and something inexpensive that you can find at a hardware store.¡± He lowered his skull to look at Olivia and Autumn. ¡°Can either of you think of a reason those things might be useful?¡±


    ¡°You mean for magic?¡± Olivia asked.


    Jacky hesitated. ¡°I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s curious, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Olivia, who¡¯s the most talented witch currently residing in Craftborough?¡±


    Olivia¡¯s face stiffened. ¡°My mother.¡±


    ¡°And the second most talented?¡±


    A faint scowl crossed Olivia¡¯s face. ¡°My sister Nylah.¡±


    Jacky turned to me. ¡°And Nylah Oliversen said that she found nothing.¡±


    I nodded.


    Jacky crossed his arms and tapped his finger bone on his sleeve. ¡°The two most sensitive witches in the whole town have been searching, and they¡¯ve found nothing. Iset surmised that the thief would have at least a basic understanding of magic, and I¡¯m inclined to agree with her¡ªespecially considering that ARC Hall might be involved¡ªyet, the most notable thing about all these incidents is the distinct lack of magic.¡±

 Chapter 26 - Trust

    ¡°Ape.¡±


    ¡°P?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an ¡®e,¡¯ Sammy. Ape. A-p-e.¡±


    ¡°E. Elephant, and we¡¯ve done tiger.¡±


    Kirby thought for a moment. ¡°Tapir.¡±


    He heard Sammy shuffle his feet.


    ¡°You made that up.¡±


    ¡°I did not.¡± The shopkeeper did his best to sound indignant, but he couldn¡¯t help smiling.


    ¡°What does it look like?¡±


    Kirby¡¯s smile widened. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know. But I do know it¡¯s got some kind of a weird nose. Go on¡ªlook it up!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a phone.¡±


    His smile faltered. He knew that Sammy was child-like in many ways, but every once in a while, it still caught him by surprise.


    ¡°Have you ever had a phone?¡± he asked.


    ¡°The boss gave me one once, but I kept losing it.¡±


    Boss? Kirby thought. He said, ¡°Do you mean Mister?¡±


    Mister was the other man. The one that got angry and only ever seemed to talk to Sammy with sarcasm or impatience. The man of a thousand plans. He was in the other room, working on something. Nolan could hear the muted sounds of construction, even through the walls.


    Kirby didn¡¯t know Mister¡¯s real name. He wasn¡¯t sure Sammy knew it, and he made it a point to never ask.


    Kirby felt like he was crossing an endless knife blade by walking on his hands. If he moved just so, he might make it to whatever the unseen goal was on the other side, but any carelessness, and he would slice his palms. He¡¯d already done it once. He needed to be more careful now.


    What Kirby knew, and what he didn¡¯t know, mattered.


    ¡°Not Mister,¡± Sammy said. ¡°It was before I met him. This was my boss.¡±


    Should Kirby change the subject? How dangerous would it be to ask about Sammy¡¯s past?


    But everything was dangerous.


    Kirby tried to keep his voice casual. ¡°Did you have a job?¡±


    ¡°I worked with my brother,¡± Sammy said.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you had a brother.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s dead.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Sammy.¡±


    The large man didn¡¯t answer.


    Kirby said, ¡°May I ask how he died?¡±


    ¡°He was shot. Another gang took him out. I wasn¡¯t on that job.¡±


    Kirby¡¯s eyebrows rose. ¡°You were a part of a gang?¡±


    He didn¡¯t know why that would surprise him. Sammy was a thief, and he¡¯d proved that he could dominate in a fight, but when Kirby considered what little he knew about gangs, Sammy¡¯s gentle nature seemed like it would be a hindrance.


    ¡°My brother brought me in.¡± A note of pride crept into Sammy¡¯s voice. ¡°We were collectors. We went out together.¡±


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    Kirby leaned back in his chair. That wasn¡¯t a normal gang. That sounded more like the mob.


    ¡°And I¡¯ll bet your brother told you what to do,¡± he said.


    It wasn¡¯t even a question in his mind. Sammy¡¯s whole life seemed to be nothing but listening to other people telling him what to do.


    ¡°He said he¡¯d always take care of me,¡± Sammy said.


    The sorrow in the man¡¯s voice was like a vine; it crept into you, wound its way around your ribs, and gently squeezed.


    Kirby tried to dismiss his heartache, but it wouldn¡¯t go. Was this Stockholm syndrome? Could it be Stockholm syndrome if you liked one of your captors but not the other?


    Oh, god. I have a favorite kidnapper.


    Kirby covered his mouth so Sammy wouldn¡¯t see him choking back his dismal laugh. When the fit of mirth passed, Kirby moved his hand and cleared his throat.


    ¡°What did you do after your brother died?¡± he asked.


    ¡°The boss took me in. He said that I was part of the family, and he¡¯d take care of me because my brother couldn¡¯t. But the other guys didn¡¯t want to work with me. I¡¯m stupid, you know? It makes it hard.¡±


    Kirby could imagine. The gang must have struggled to figure out what to do with him.


    Sammy went on, ¡°The boss let me be a bodyguard sometimes. For him.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like an important position.¡±


    ¡°All I had to do was stand there and be quiet. He let me out too. By myself. He¡¯d send me out to collect on easy loans.¡±


    ¡°Easy loans?¡±


    ¡°The guys that paid easy. That¡¯s how I met Mister.¡±


    Nolan Kirby felt as if someone had flipped on an electric switch buried deep in his body. His head buzzed. His ears strained. His nerves felt like humming wires.


    ¡°Mister borrowed money from your boss?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. He was nice to me.¡±


    In an instant, the electric energy went dead. The only thing Kirby felt was cold.


    ¡°You mean Mister?¡± he said.


    He heard the disbelief in his voice, but only as he spoke. He hoped that Sammy wouldn¡¯t pick up on it.


    ¡°He teases me,¡± Sammy explained.


    I know, Kirby thought. I¡¯ve heard him tease you.


    It was the kind of teasing that bit at a person, leaving small holes and scars. Did Sammy not know enough to mind? Or was he used to it?


    ¡°We laughed a lot,¡± Sammy added, ¡°and when I went there, he said that he was always glad to see me.¡±


    Sarcasm. Sammy had trouble with that.


    ¡°He¡¯d talk to me,¡± Sammy said. ¡°It was fun.¡±


    Sometimes Kirby thought he could feel certain silences on his skin the same way he could feel the weight of motionless air.


    ¡°You really like him?¡± Kirby asked.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± A rare note of happiness flowed through the vine left by his voice. ¡°He¡¯s smart, you know. He takes care of me.¡±


    ¡°Do you like working with him?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s always careful. He makes sure I know what to do, and there¡¯s no dangerous stuff. He never asks me to hurt anyone.¡±


    Sammy suddenly stopped talking. The strained interruption was followed by a mumbled apology.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Kirby assured him. ¡°I know. It¡¯s not usually like this. How long have you two worked together?¡±


    There was a quiet noise¡ªso dim it was hard to hear over the noises of Mister¡¯s construction. Sammy must have moved, but Kirby couldn¡¯t guess how or what gesture the man had used.


    ¡°A few years?¡± Sammy didn¡¯t sound too sure of himself. He went back to the part of the story he knew he could tell: ¡°Mister went to talk to the boss himself. He said he wanted to give me a job. The boss told me it was up to me, and when I said I wanted to work with Mister, the boss told me that I could come back if I ever needed to.¡±


    There was that quiet pride again. Sammy had two homes. That must have been important to him. Sammy, who worried about whether or not people would take care of him; Sammy, who always had people tell him what to do¡ªhe had one home with his gang, and another with Mister.


    And he¡¯d chosen to go with Mister, leaving behind the life and security he was familiar with.


    Sammy must have liked Mister a lot.


    ¡°Does Mister like you, Sammy?¡±


    Sammy answered faster than normal. His voice had an edge to it. ¡°Yeah. He¡¯s my friend. He takes care of me. He doesn¡¯t have to.¡±


    He finds you useful, Kirby thought.


    But there were other useful people¡ªones that would be easier to work with and less frustrating. And Kirby had heard the odd moments of quiet laughter between the two men, and every once in a while, Mister would call Sammy¡¯s name, and it would be in the gentle tone that Kirby instinctively employed when talking to the larger man.


    ¡°Does he¡ª¡± Kirby stopped and let out a short, frustrated sigh. Whatever relationship Sammy had with Mister, it was more complicated than Kirby had assumed. Did Sammy even understand the concept of trust? Would he know how to express it?


    Kirby tried again, ¡°Sammy, do you think that Mister will¡­always¡­take care of you?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Sammy said.


    But Kirby had heard the hesitation and the quiver running through the word. Sammy thought Mister would take care of him¡ªbut he wasn¡¯t sure.


    Guilt pushed a sour taste into Kirby¡¯s mouth. He hated that displaced sense of confusion and fear that came from not knowing where he was. The idea that he could take some certainty away from a man like Sammy was heartbreaking.


    ¡°Why all these questions about Mister?¡± Sammy suddenly demanded.


    Kirby could sense the blade wobbling under his sore hands. Maybe he should try telling the truth. Maybe empathy worked both ways.


    ¡°I¡¯m scared,¡± Kirby said. ¡°I know you a little bit. I don¡¯t know Mister.¡±


    ¡°Mister¡¯s all right. He says he¡¯ll let you go when this is over.¡±


    ¡°Do you believe him?¡±


    There was a pause.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    But Kirby had heard the quiver in his voice.

 Chapter 27 - Color Schemes

    We arrived back at Olivia¡¯s house that evening. I wasn¡¯t sure how Big Jacky was doing, but Olivia and I were tired and grumpy. We¡¯d spent that afternoon trying to find out anything else that might be useful. All we got were more details, and, like specks on a windshield, they only made things less clear.


    Doc Morgan had gone through his whole inventory. Nothing but that one hypodermic needle was missing. When pressed, he insisted he wasn¡¯t mistaken.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a hospital, Miss Langley. I don¡¯t have to use needles often. I know how many I should have.¡±


    The locks on the hardware store, the doctor¡¯s office, and the Barlowe¡¯s place were indistinguishable from any other lock. Mr. and Mrs. Barlowe said they never made a spare key. They¡¯d never found a use for one.


    When we went to talk to Officer Ansel, we decided to bring her a coffee from the local shop as a peace offering and modest bribe.


    She thanked us for the coffee, and for bringing the footprint on the other side of the road to her attention. When I asked if anyone else had called to report a robbery, she gazed at me over her disposable cup while taking a very, very long sip.


    ¡°No,¡± she said.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m still the only cop in town, Miss Cole. If they don¡¯t report it to me, who do you think they¡¯d report it to?¡±


    ¡°Would you mind if we went into Kirby¡¯s shop?¡±


    Her eyes narrowed. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°We want to check if any of his inventory is missing,¡± Olivia explained.


    ¡°You know his inventory?¡±


    Olivia flushed.


    Officer Ansel¡¯s eyes moved over to Autumn. ¡°Do you?¡±


    Autumn shook her head.


    ¡°I¡¯ll talk to Mrs. Gilbert when I get the chance. In the meantime, I suggest that you go home and get some rest.¡± She paused, then added, ¡°You look like you could use it.¡±


    She was right, but hearing it from someone as exhausted as her stung. We said goodbye to Autumn and headed home.


    Unfortunately, when we arrived, it was obvious rest wasn¡¯t going to be an option. The whole house was brimming with activity. The caterers for that evening¡¯s cocktail party had taken over the kitchen and were already helping Mrs. Oliversen set up the living room.


    She turned when she heard us in the hall. ¡°Good evening, Olivia¡ªno, step back.¡±


    Olivia, Jacky, and I backed away so the two young women that had gotten caught behind us while carrying a table could get through.


    Ellis moved around them and came out into the hall. We moved closer to the stairs so we¡¯d be out of everyone¡¯s way.


    ¡°It¡¯s fortunate you got back in time to get ready,¡± she observed. ¡°It¡¯s meant to be a relaxing mixer, but the dress code is semiformal.¡±


    I crossed my fingers behind my back, closed my eyes, and prayed. Big Jacky always talked as if there were a lot of gods hanging around, so it seemed extra unfair that none of them had the time to listen to me.


    Olivia said, ¡°I have a dress.¡±


    There was a note of challenge in her voice. Of course there was.


    Mrs. Oliversen paused for a nanosecond. ¡°Perhaps you should borrow one of Nylah¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Nylah doesn¡¯t own anything in my color,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°That color being black?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Yup. I was doomed. I¡¯d have to go to a cocktail party, all because of a witch¡¯s pissing contest.


    Ellis sighed through her nose. ¡°If that¡¯s what it takes for you to come, then, by all means, have it your way, Olivia.¡± She said to Big Jacky, ¡°Will we be seeing you there, Mr. Noctis?¡±


    ¡°Thank you for the invitation,¡± he said. ¡°I plan on being there unless something more urgent prevents me.¡±


    Ellis Oliversen looked directly at me. It felt like being speared. ¡°Miss Cole?¡±


    Since I didn¡¯t have enough time to remove the six-foot shaft sticking out of my chest, all I could do was stammer, ¡°Y-yeah. Sure.¡±


    Ellis¡¯s eyes lingered on me for an extra second. My hands were already behind my back. That meant I could squeeze the fingers of my right hand without being obvious about it.


    ¡°Mrs. Oliversen?¡± a woman¡¯s voice said.


    We all looked around. One of the caterers was standing in the entryway to the living room, looking helpless.


    ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me,¡± Ellis said.


    She stepped away from our group, and Olivia, Jacky, and I turned to go up the stairs.


    ¡°Olivia, are you sure this is what you want?¡± Jacky asked, keeping his voice low.


    The idea that Jack Noctis had picked up on the fact something was wrong was vaguely alarming.


    ¡°It¡¯s all right, Mr. Noctis,¡± Olivia said. ¡°Let¡¯s just get it over with.¡±


    A few seconds later, I said, as casually as I could, ¡°Hey, Olivia.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    I jogged up two steps so I could be on her level. We continued up. ¡°Quick question¡ªjust as a matter of interest¡ªwhat¡¯s least likely to get me cursed? Showing up to your mother¡¯s party in jeans or not showing up to your mother¡¯s party after I told her I¡¯d be there?¡±


    Olivia gripped the banister and came to a jerky halt. I hadn¡¯t been expecting the sudden stop; I faltered and stepped back to stay beside her. Jacky went on without us.


    Olivia closed her eyes. ¡°You don¡¯t have a dress.¡±


    She sounded exhausted¡ªno, it was worse than exhausted. She sounded absolutely beaten. As she rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, for the breath of a moment, I could see the tension, the frustration, and a faint misery that had been lingering for so long it could only be felt by how it played on her scars like silent violin strings.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said softly.


    The moment was gone. Olivia lowered her hand. She stood, proud and untouchable. ¡°What are you sorry for?¡±


    She¡¯d tried to snap at me, but she was too tired to put any real teeth in it. I was being gummed.


    She went on, ¡°How were we supposed to know we¡¯d be expected to dress up? Not that it would¡¯ve helped you any.¡±


    ¡°I would have brought nicer T-shirts! Do you have an extra dress I can borrow?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not borrowing any of my clothes.¡±


    Geez. You destroy one pair of jeans and burn up some luggage and suddenly you¡¯re marked for life.


    ¡°I¡¯d do it for you, Olivia.¡±


    I heard the words spill out of my mouth, and my cheeks went bright red. I was blushing so hard they ached. What on earth had possessed me to say that? I ran a quick thumb over my mouth, but it was too late. I¡¯d have to try to explain.


    Rather than look at her, I studied Olivia¡¯s hand on the banister. ¡°I mean, dress up. Try to be presentable. I know you don¡¯t like me, but in your mom¡¯s head, we¡¯re associated¡ª¡±


    ¡°Since when do you care about what my mother thinks?¡±


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°I don¡¯t. But I don¡¯t want you to be judged just because you know someone like me, and if there¡¯s something I can do to help you wiggle one of the many pins you¡¯ve got sticking out of your mother¡¯s voodoo doll, all you have to do is let me know. I¡¯ll even try my best not to say anything weird.¡±


    Olivia gave me a blank stare for a full three seconds.


    Then she laughed. It was a brief chuckle¡ªlittle more than a breath¡ªbut the smile was real.


    ¡°Oh my god, Emerra,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re a walking disaster.¡±


    I grinned. ¡°So are you.¡±


    She started up the stairs again. ¡°At least I own a dress!¡±


    ¡°You have me there. So what¡¯ll it be, Olivia? Am I going in a dress or jeans?¡±


    ¡°Like I care.¡±


    She did, though. I knew she did. But I needed to find the right way to phrase it.


    ¡°All right. Which would annoy your mother the most?¡±


    Crinkles appeared around Olivia¡¯s narrowed eyes as she considered my question. They disappeared when she turned to me. One edge of her lips was pulled up in a faint smirk.


    ¡°Are you willing to borrow a dress from Nylah?¡±


    A haunting image of a face full of poison popped into my head. But I was the idiot who¡¯d offered, and I wasn¡¯t going to go back on my word now.


    ¡°Uh, yeah,¡± I stammered. ¡°I mean, sure. If she¡¯s willing.¡±


    We reached the top of the stairs. Olivia pointed to the room across from the one we were staying in and wished me luck. I would¡¯ve rather had some kind of a protective charm, but I was willing to take what I could get.


    I knocked as Olivia disappeared into her old bedroom. When Nylah opened her door and saw me standing there, her eyes briefly widened. Then she leaned against the doorway and watched me without saying anything.


    What was it with the Oliversens? Did they have to be beautiful and intimidating? One wasn¡¯t enough?


    Nylah raised one of her sculpted eyebrows. ¡°Yes?¡±


    Crap! How long had I been standing there?


    ¡°Ah, ha! Ha. Ummmm. Hi!¡± That¡¯s right, Emerra, strike her dead with your unsurpassable wit and charm. ¡°The party¡¯s coming up.¡±


    She stared at me, then said with exaggerated slowness. ¡°I¡¯m aware. Thank you.¡± She went to close her door.


    ¡°No! Wait.¡± I rubbed my eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not actually an idiot¡ªat least, not this bad. Usually.¡± I sighed. ¡°It¡¯s been a long day. I needed to ask you something.¡±


    The gap in the door widened again. She looked at me with new interest.


    ¡°Olivia and I weren¡¯t expecting to go to a fancy party,¡± I explained. ¡°Do you have a dress I could borrow?¡±


    Another one-second eternity crawled by as Nylah eyed me. I squeezed my fingers with my other hand.


    ¡°Olivia really wasn¡¯t planning on staying here?¡± Nylah asked.


    The disbelief in her voice caught my attention. I searched her face and found nothing.


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°Your mother strong-armed her into it.¡±


    Nylah stepped back from her door and motioned for me to enter.


    With one last fleeting thought about that protective charm, I stepped into her room.


    The walls were a pale blue-gray. The trim was the same creamy white that was found all over the house. Her bedcover was a navy-blue tone that had enough gray in it to compliment the walls. The upholstery on her desk chair and end-of-bed bench were a shimmery champagne, and the furniture was all made of dark wood. Most of the room oozed with the house''s familiar, understated elegance¡ªwhich is probably why the art stood out so much.


    I honed in on those posters like an art-hungry hawk.


    I didn¡¯t know if all of the art were posters, but I knew, for a fact, at least two of them had to be. The originals were in museums.


    ¡°Van Gogh,¡± I muttered.


    The vibrant colors of Sunflowers and A Summer Evening in the City blazed out from the muted background. I didn¡¯t know the other artists featured in the collection, but they were contemporary impressionists, and all of them used pure hues. Despite the expensive dark wood frames that matched the rest of the furniture, the pictures looked too bright to belong in the room.


    ¡°Over here,¡± Nylah called.


    I turned. The wall she was standing beside was dominated by two large doors. She slid them back to reveal a wide, shallow, well-organized closet. If you added up all the clothes I¡¯d owned in both my lives, it still wouldn¡¯t cover the array of outfits I was gawking at.


    I stumbled toward her wardrobe. ¡°Holy cow! Dude! What a selection!¡±


    The ends of Nylah¡¯s lips nudged upward when she heard my exclamation.


    I ran my hand over her line of shirts. As the variety of fabrics ruffled under my fingers, then fell back, I noticed that most of them were grayish tones of blue, purple, or green. There were a few whites and off-whites, but the closest she ever got to red was burgundy or wine. There were no yellows or oranges, and there was no black.


    ¡°Can I ask you a weird question?¡± I said, still looking over her collection.


    ¡°All right,¡± she said.


    ¡°What does your mother have against black?¡±


    ¡°Mother doesn¡¯t mind black. She minds excessive black.¡±


    ¡°And Olivia¡¯s wardrobe?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s excessive. Everything Olivia does is excessive. If you¡¯ve had to live with her, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve noticed that.¡±


    My breath caught, and my shoulders stiffened. I pressed my lips together as hard as I could so I wouldn¡¯t accidentally tell her how much I hated her comment and her thoughtless confidence that I would agree with her.


    It reminded me of all the people in my life that had told me I was ¡°too much.¡± Too loud. Too talkative. Too excited. Every comment they had made flowed over me, ripping up soil that had been shaken loose by my lonely childhood, carrying it away until my heart was a chasm. No matter how much I tried, no matter how much I cared about others, there would always be something wrong with me¡ªa reason others wouldn¡¯t like me: I was too much.


    I didn¡¯t think Olivia was too much. She had an attitude, but she didn¡¯t go out of her way to pick a fight with me. If I left her alone, she left me alone. She always wore black, but I¡¯d assumed that was her style and never thought twice about it. She did study a lot¡ªbut wasn¡¯t that her job? And, if I was being honest, I envied her. I thought that being dedicated, hardworking, and studious meant that Olivia was somehow a good person¡ªor a¡­a valuable person¡ªin a way I wasn¡¯t.


    That wasn¡¯t excessive! That was Olivia!


    I swallowed my indignation. The last thing I needed was to upset the Oliversens¡­


    You know¡ªanymore than I already had.


    I cleared my throat and said, ¡°Dresses?¡±


    Nylah stepped back and motioned to the section at the edge of the closet.


    And, anyway, a woman who owned that many dresses wasn¡¯t qualified to pass judgment on what was ¡°excessive.¡±


    I chided myself for being unfair to Nylah. Wardrobe requirements were probably different if you had a mother who hosted catered cocktail parties.


    I started looking through the line of dresses.


    Nylah leaned on the wall. ¡°Why did Olivia come home?¡±


    Since I was already hiding my anger, it wasn¡¯t difficult for me to keep my poker face. There was barely a hitch in my movement. Count Vasil would¡¯ve been proud.


    I hummed noncommittally.


    ¡°I heard about her report,¡± Nylah said.


    If I hummed again, I was pretty sure she¡¯d catch on to the fact I had already decided I wasn¡¯t going to tell her a darn thing, so I reached for the next avoidance tactic in my arsenal: make them talk.


    ¡°What did you think?¡± I asked.


    She shrugged. ¡°Typical. Olivia never misses a chance to show off.¡±


    ¡°You see it as showing off?¡±


    ¡°What else could it be?¡±


    Rising to a challenge, I thought.


    If Nylah¡¯s voice had been even a smidge less dismissive, I might have said it out loud, but it wasn¡¯t, so I didn¡¯t bother.


    Instead, I said, ¡°Would it surprise you to learn that Olivia hadn¡¯t planned on giving her report?¡±


    ¡°It would have, but considering that she¡¯s gone all the time and you said you didn¡¯t plan on coming to any of the parties¡ªit made me wonder.¡±


    My brain held up a yellow warning flag. Nylah was fishing for information. I clamped my mouth shut and focused on the dresses. She didn¡¯t need my help if she wanted to go around wondering things.


    She pushed away from the wall and turned to look at the dresses with me. If she was going for a sense of non-threatening camaraderie, she failed. I was halfway down the row and about to pick one of the navy-blue options, just to get out of there, when a much bolder color caught my eye.


    With a delighted laugh, I reached over and pulled it out. ¡°Oh, wow. I like this one.¡±


    That was a lie. I didn¡¯t merely like the dress; I loved it. It was a vivid teal, wrap-around style, with three-quarters sleeves and at least a three-quarters circle skirt, perfect for twirling. The hem would hit somewhere around my knees.


    Nylah glanced at it, then raised her eyes to me. ¡°Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s a little bright?¡±


    The question was nothing but a tissue-paper thin veil for her opinion¡ªher tone told me that much¡ªbut she could cat at me all she wanted. I was holding a dress that would make a Crayola crayon blush.


    ¡°Well, normally I prefer something really bright,¡± I said, ¡°like a nice, eye-searing shade of magenta, but you don¡¯t seem to have that, so I¡¯ll have to settle for something only a little bright.¡± I winked at her.


    Nylah shrugged. ¡°Suit yourself.¡± When I moved toward the door, she said, ¡°You say you¡¯re not friends with Olivia?¡±


    My brain hoisted the yellow flag again and waved it. Frantically.


    I turned around. ¡°I already told you we¡¯re not.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t surprise me.¡± Nylah gave me a knowing look full of mutual understanding that wasn¡¯t mutual at all. ¡°Olivia doesn¡¯t have any friends. I think she¡¯s proud of it. She hates everyone, and she¡¯s perfected the art of making sure everyone knows¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong.¡±


    My cheeks were red, and I was clutching my hands together under the fabric of the dress so Nylah wouldn¡¯t see them trembling. My mind felt like it was blistering from the heat of my emotions. All thought of respecting Olivia¡¯s desire to keep quiet was gone. My only goal was to get through the conversation without yelling.


    Nylah crossed her arms. ¡°You think so?¡±


    ¡°I know so. Olivia doesn¡¯t have a lot of friends, but she has them. And she loves them. She¡¯s loyal. You have to be when you only have a few friends.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re not one of them. Why are you sticking up for her?¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯ve never seen what she¡¯s really like. You want to know why Olivia came back? One of her friends has gone missing. She was willing to break a promise to herself and come back to a place she knew she wasn¡¯t welcome so that she could try to find out what happened to him. That¡¯s the only reason she¡¯s here.¡±


    Nylah¡¯s face went slack and I could see anger in her eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t surprise me. You probably think she¡¯s here to show off, upset your mom, and ruin your life.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    A hiss of laughter melded with my scoff, and I shook my head. ¡°That¡¯s fine. Think what you want.¡± I took a deep breath, raised the dress a few inches, and said in my best rich-girl-trying-to-get-into-a-country-club voice, ¡°Thank you so much for letting me borrow this. Would you like me to get it cleaned before I return it?¡±


    Nylah adopted her own tone of bogus civility. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about that. I¡¯m glad I could help.¡±


    I took a step toward the door, then paused and turned back. ¡°It¡¯s odd.¡±


    ¡°What is?¡±


    I raised the dress again. ¡°This dress is the only thing in the room that matches the art.¡±


    Nylah¡¯s scorn vanished. She stared at me, her face stiff.


    ¡°Did you pick the art?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Her voice was as stiff as her face.


    ¡°Oh.¡± I paused. ¡°Do you pick all your clothes?¡±


    ¡°Of course I do,¡± she snapped.


    ¡°Hmm. That¡¯s interesting.¡±


    My anger was fading, and whatever intimidation I¡¯d felt when I entered the room was nothing but a memory. When a girl owns one dress that matches her art, but she won¡¯t wear it because it¡¯s too bright, that means she¡¯s hiding, and she¡¯s probably been hiding for a long time.


    That was a hard place to be.


    ¡°Thank you again,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯d better hurry and get ready.¡±


    I left. After shutting the door behind me, I leaned back against the wall.


    ¡°Don¡¯t want to upset the Oliversens, huh?¡± I muttered.


    I groaned, laughed at myself, then held up my prize with a sigh.


    ¡°At least I got a killer dress.¡±


    I stood up and crossed the hall. It was thirty minutes till go time.

 Chapter 28 - Perspectives

    When I walked into the guest room, Olivia was sitting in front of the small bedroom vanity. Various hairstyling implements were laid over the top of it and makeup was spilled everywhere. Olivia was already in her black dress. She turned in her chair to look at me.


    I held up the teal dress. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    Olivia stared at it as if she¡¯d never seen anything like it before. Her eyes rose to my face.


    ¡°You picked that?¡± she said.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°On your own?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    She smiled. It was wide, bright, and there was an evil gleam in her eye. ¡°It¡¯s perfect.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± A speck of nervousness snuck into the question. It occurred to me that a smiling witch wasn¡¯t always a good sign.


    ¡°Because Nylah¡¯s never been able to pull off that dress.¡± Olivia stood up. The evil gleam in her eye was more pronounced. ¡°She¡¯s going to be furious.¡±


    I hid my wry smile and resisted the urge to shake my head. Olivia was enjoying her rivalry with her sister; I''d hate to distract her by making her angry at me.


    ¡°We need shoes,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°Crap,¡± I said. ¡°I totally forgot.¡±


    Olivia turned toward the closet. ¡°Nylah¡¯s feet are bigger than mine. Her shoes wouldn¡¯t have fit you anyway. I think something neutral would look better than black.¡±


    She pulled a box down from the top of the closet. It was neatly labeled "Olivia¡¯s clothes."


    She saw me glancing at the label.


    ¡°I found it yesterday,¡± she said.


    ¡°I thought you weren¡¯t planning on coming back here.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t. These are the clothes I left behind.¡± She put the box down on the end of the bed. ¡°My mother probably had Janice pack them away.¡±


    ¡°You left clothes behind?¡±


    Olivia lifted the lid. When I looked inside, I saw a bunch of expensive-looking items, carefully folded and resting between layers of tissue paper. Olivia pawed through them, looking for shoes.


    ¡°These are the clothes my mother bought for me,¡± she said. ¡°She must have thrown the rest away.¡±


    Turquoise, green, cream, blue¡ªnot a stitch of black. My heart sank when I saw it. I was looking over the remnants of an old battlefield in a war where everyone had lost.


    ¡°Ah-ha!¡± Olivia pulled out a pair of taupe, ankle-high, wedge-heeled boots. ¡°These.¡±


    I took the boots from her. ¡°I thought you weren¡¯t going to lend me any of your clothes.¡±


    She returned to her chair in front of the vanity. ¡°You could walk through a cattle yard in those, I wouldn¡¯t care. And, even if I did care, I¡¯d give up my best pair of heels to see Nylah¡¯s face when you walk in the room, in that dress, looking good.¡±


    I turned to her. ¡°You don¡¯t think it¡¯ll look weird?¡±


    Since she was facing the mirror, it was her reflection that gazed at me quizzically.


    ¡°You know¡­¡± I squirmed a bit. ¡°With my hair?¡±


    Olivia rolled her eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t even imagine you with hair, Emerra.¡±


    I grinned.


    I wasn¡¯t often self-conscious about being bald, but there were times, and there probably always would be. It was the worst when I was silly enough to worry about how others saw me. But, thank you, Olivia Oliversen! Her magnificent indifference slapped a band-aid over that particular nick in my heart.


    I don¡¯t know why I bothered worrying. At this point, most people would think it was weirder if they saw me with hair. Kappa probably wouldn¡¯t even recognize me.


    In the mirror, Olivia saw my reflection smiling at her.


    ¡°Well?¡± she said. ¡°Are you going to get dressed?¡±


    ¡°Right!¡±


    Changing into the dress and boots took all of three minutes. And, of course, my hair took even less time than that (that¡¯s one of the major perks of being bald). Olivia was still at the vanity when I was done getting ready, and it looked like she¡¯d be there for a while.


    ¡°Do you need some makeup?¡± She waved her hand over the array of bottles, powders, brushes, and strange metal implements that wouldn¡¯t have looked out of place in a torture chamber.


    ¡°Uh, thanks,¡± I said, ¡°but I¡¯m okay.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh. What do I have to say to talk you into it?¡±


    I blinked. ¡°You¡­want me to wear makeup?¡±


    ¡°The better you look the more it¡¯ll annoy my mother and Nylah.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see.¡± I nodded with mock seriousness. ¡°As long as it¡¯s for a good cause.¡±


    ¡°Precisely.¡± She scooted her chair aside to give me room.


    Still, I hesitated. ¡°I thought that women had, like, their own kind of makeup¡ªthat it was personalized¡­or something¡­¡±


    My voice petered out when Olivia turned in her chair to look at me.


    Her expression wasn¡¯t soft¡ªthis is Olivia we¡¯re talking about¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t as hard as normal either. There was no evil glint, smirk, sneer, frown, or rolling of the eyes. It was nothing but a face, and her eyes were searching mine.


    ¡°Emerra, do you know how to wear makeup?¡±


    I grunted and scratched my eyebrow.


    She was still looking at me.


    ¡°No,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°How old are¡ª¡±


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°I¡¯m twenty. And you know it.¡±


    ¡°And you don¡¯t know how to wear makeup?¡±


    ¡°It never came up,¡± I grumbled.


    ¡°Your mother never taught you?¡±


    Oof. I fielded that punch by taking it right to the gut.


    ¡°I never had a mother,¡± I said. ¡°She abandoned me when I was two.¡±


    Olivia froze for a fraction of a second. When she thawed, she said, ¡°You didn¡¯t have friends that could¡ª¡±


    ¡°Friendships were pretty weird for me. Look, do you mind if we table this conversation? I don¡¯t know how to use makeup. That¡¯s the important part.¡±


    ¡°Sure. We can table the conversation.¡± Olivia stood up with liquid grace. ¡°Let me help you with some makeup tonight, and I¡¯ll promise never to bring it up again.¡±


    I lunged for the abandoned chair. ¡°Deal.¡±


    Olivia pulled over another chair, sat down in front of me, and inspected my face. ¡°Our skin tones are pretty close to the same, but it¡¯s not an exact match.¡± She eyed me critically for another moment, then turned to the table and started searching through the pile of makeup. ¡°You¡¯re skin¡¯s good enough we can skip the foundation. We¡¯ll do eyes and lips.¡±


    ¡°E-eyes?¡± I stuttered. ¡°You want to draw attention to my eyes?¡±


    ¡°Relax.¡± Olivia picked up a dark brown pencil. ¡°You¡¯re going to be fine. Lots of people have dark eyes¡ªadmittedly, not as dark as yours.¡±


    She started filling in the stringy lines that were all that had survived of my eyebrows.


    Olivia worked in silence. The only noises I could hear were from downstairs, where the caterers were perfecting the final details. The muffled sounds felt as if they were coming from a world away. I could smell the makeup and Nylah''s faint, lingering scent, clinging to my borrowed dress. The small strokes and gentle pressure of Olivia applying the makeup was almost hypnotic. The whole atmosphere conspired to lull me into a thoughtful mood.


    ¡°Olivia?¡±


    She had moved onto my eyeshadow by that time. As she shifted from one eye to the other, she hummed to show she was listening.


    ¡°Do you have any friends your age?¡±


    She didn¡¯t pause her work to answer. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°May I ask why?¡±


    She let out a silent sigh. The only reason I knew she was doing it was because I could hear the whisper of the air escaping her nose. ¡°Because I¡¯m an Oliversen¡ªno! Don¡¯t make any faces. Relax.¡±


    I unfurrowed my brow. ¡°Did Nylah have friends?¡±


    ¡°Nylah didn¡¯t mind. I did.¡±


    ¡°Mind what?¡±


    ¡°On the first day you arrive at Saufgrove, half the girls already hate you just because you''re an Oliversen, and the other half would do anything to be your friend.¡±


    ¡°Is that also because you¡¯re an Oliversen?¡±


    She nodded once. ¡°I decided I wasn¡¯t going to waste a single second of my time trying to make a bunch of prejudiced people like me.¡±


    ¡°And the girls that wanted to be your friend?¡±


    She stopped what she was doing and looked in my eyes. ¡°Would you want friends like that? People that only like you because of your family name?¡±


    I wasn¡¯t familiar with that particular problem, but I could kind of understand where she was coming from. I had often felt lonely, even in a crowd, and the only thing I¡¯d wanted was someone to really know me and still like me.


    But to understand the concept of false friendship when she was that young? And to be able to reject it?


    Olivia said, ¡°What are you¡ªEmerra, stop laughing! I¡¯m going to poke you in the eye with this brush.¡±


    I tried to stop, but that only made my nose wrinkle. My shoulders were still shaking, and the edges of my eyes were still crinkled up. There was no way Olivia could apply makeup with me in that state¡ªwhich was complicating her already complicated life.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said when I finally got myself under control. ¡°But I see you now, Olivia. I know what you are.¡±


    Olivia was not impressed by my prophetic announcement.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± She picked up some eyeliner.


    ¡°Too independent for your own good.¡±


    Olivia stopped and looked at me. We both smiled.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she said. ¡°Now close your eyes. And no wiggling!¡±


    ¡°Does it work for you?¡± I asked. ¡°Being independent, I mean.¡±


    There was a slight pause. I felt the cool touch of a brush on my eyelid.


    Since Olivia had to give most of her attention to the tricky art of liquid eyeliner, she spoke slowly: ¡°It gives me a lot of strength. But it has its downsides. I think most things do.¡±


    Too independent, and still wise beyond her years.


    ¡°Were you lonely?¡± I asked.


    ¡°For friends? Not really. I had Kirby and Miss Langley, and I saw Miss Langley almost every day.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re supposed to call her Autumn.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, now. Back then she was a teacher. I don¡¯t know about other people, but as long as I can be comfortable around them, I only need one or two close friends.¡±


    ¡°Even if they¡¯re that much older than you?¡±


    ¡°Friends are friends. Age doesn¡¯t matter. I like Iset too.¡±


    That mean little witch kept laying her fingers down on the metaphorical guitar strings strung across my heart, then lifting them up again¡ªnever quite plucking them, never letting them be still. My emotions gently vibrated in my chest.


    Of course, it was my fault. I was the one asking her questions.


    Olivia switched over to my other eye.


    ¡°Do you like Nylah?¡± I asked.


    Olivia grunted, then elaborated. ¡°Not really. I like Lindsey.¡±


    ¡°Lindsey?¡±


    ¡°My oldest sister. She moved out after her apprenticeship. She escaped.¡±


    I heard a tiny note of pleasure in the word ¡°escaped¡± and opened my eyes just in time to catch a glimpse of Olivia¡¯s proud smirk. She ordered me to close them again.


    Olivia went on, ¡°Nylah is Mother¡¯s perfect child, and she hates Lindsey and me for causing problems.¡±


    ¡°The perfect child,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°My mother¡¯s dark-haired clone. Beautiful, talented, and graceful. Good for her, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t stop thinking about the art blazing out from the gray-blue walls.


    ¡°Are you sure she¡¯s not pretending?¡± I asked.


    Olivia stopped.


    I opened my eyes to see what had happened. Olivia was staring at me. All the old, familiar hardness and animosity had returned.


    And I had been doing so well too. Any year now, I¡¯d learn to keep my big mouth shut.


    ¡°She¡¯s not pretending,¡± Olivia said. There was no arguing with that tone of voice. It held the kind of certainty that could carve granite.


    I chewed on my lips as I thought. When I was ready to speak, I kept my voice quiet. One should always move carefully around anything capable of scarring rocks.


    ¡°Olivia, not everyone¡¯s as independent as you.¡±


    ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°So what if Nylah valued peace enough she chose to repress herself so she could get along with your mother?¡±


    ¡°No one would do that.¡±


    The phrase ¡°blind as a witch¡± flashed through my mind, but I kept it to myself.


    When I spoke again, I adopted a casual tone. ¡°She was wrong about you, you know.¡±


    Olivia rolled her eyes. ¡°That I believe. What did she say to you?¡±


    ¡°She thinks you cause trouble on purpose. I think that you¡¯re only doing what you think you have to do, and I think you learned to do it without worrying about what others thought¡ªbecause you had to.¡±


    Olivia put the eyeliner she¡¯d been holding onto the dresser top. It made a sharp snick sound when it hit. She turned and ran her hand over the makeup, moving them around as if she was searching for something, but her shoulders were tense, and I got the feeling she was making it a point to not look at me.


    I went on because¡ªwhy not? The bridge was burning, the ship was sinking, and, oh, what a merry day to die!


    ¡°She thinks you¡¯re showing off, but I think you ask a lot of yourself and you derive satisfaction from the quality of your work.¡±


    If that last line sounded unusually fancy for me, it¡¯s because I¡¯d stolen it from Count Vasil. I figured that was how most perfectionists saw themselves, so it had a chance of appealing to Olivia.


    She still wouldn¡¯t look at me.


    I said, ¡°She thinks you¡¯re proud of not having friends¡ª¡±


    ¡°And what do you think?¡± she snapped.


    ¡°Me?¡± I shrugged. ¡°Oh, I just think you¡¯re proud.¡±


    She finally looked at me and saw what I¡¯m sure was my snarkiest smile.


    ¡°You¡¯re a butthead,¡± she said.


    ¡°So are you,¡± I said.


    She picked up another mysterious tube and opened it. Ah-ha! Even I knew that was a mascara brush.


    ¡°Open your eyes,¡± she said. ¡°Now, relax, and try not to blink.¡± She leaned in. ¡°What¡¯s your point, Emerra?¡±


    I waited until she finished my first set of lashes. If she didn¡¯t like what I had to say, it¡¯d be too easy for her to ¡°accidentally¡± jab me in the eye.


    While she was loading up the brush again, I said, ¡°People are complicated. They¡¯re usually too complicated for an easy explanation. If Nylah¡¯s wrong about you, do you think it¡¯s possible you might be wrong about her?¡±


    Olivia finished my second set of lashes before she answered. ¡°I¡¯ll consider it.¡±


    ¡°Hey, that¡¯s something.¡±


    She closed up the mascara. ¡°Why do you care, anyway?¡±


    I lifted one of my shoulders in an uneasy shrug. ¡°Isn¡¯t it how you¡¯d want other people to see you? It¡¯s how I want them to see me.¡±


    She put the mascara back on the dresser top. ¡°Now we need lipstick.¡± After a quick glance my direction, she started pawing through the makeup again. ¡°Something that will work with that dress.¡±


    ¡°You have something like that?¡±


    Olivia pulled out a few tubes. ¡°You¡¯re new to this whole makeup thing, so let me teach you one of the great secrets. Everyone who wears makeup should own at least three lipstick colors that look terrible on them.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°So they always remember they look terrible on them. Now get over here.¡±


    I watched as she compared the different shades of lipstick to my skin, the dress, the light, and, possibly, the astral alignment.


    ¡°Olivia?¡± I said.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°I think you look really good in black.¡±


    She selected one of the shades and put the rest back on the vanity. ¡°Would you be surprised if I told you I didn¡¯t care?¡±


    Her voice had been low and deadpan, but¡ªtoo bad for her¡ªI¡¯d caught sight of the slight smile on her face, when she turned.


    ¡°Not in the slightest,¡± I assured her.

 Chapter 29 - Lets Get the Party Started

    The only things a woman needs to take over the world are a twirly dress, great heels, and the right shade of lipstick. I walked down those stairs feeling like a million bucks and acting like I owned the place¡ªwhich was really bold of me if you think about it.


    I had not one but three Oliversens in the house, and, presumably, they would also be wearing dresses and heels. And they would¡¯ve had a lot more practice walking in them.


    But if confidence was smart, it wouldn¡¯t be confidence.


    Jacky had barely come down himself, so he was waiting for me at the bottom. He was dressed in his normal suit. It worked for him, and he could probably make it look natural if he was walking through a barnyard.


    When I reached the main floor, I did a little twirl to impress death.


    ¡°How do I look?¡± I asked.


    Jacky hesitated. ¡°Like a human?¡±


    I laughed at the obvious confusion in his voice, took up his arm, and put mine through his. ¡°Oh, good. I¡¯ll fool everyone.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t offended. Big Jacky had once told me that he couldn¡¯t tell that Owen Ashworth was handsome, and if that misplaced male supermodel could fly under the radar, then so could a tap-dancing nuclear bomb.


    Speaking of Owen Ashworth.


    ¡°Have the other guests arrived?¡± I asked.


    ¡°About half of them from what I gather, but I haven¡¯t been introduced to them yet.¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s go mingle!¡±


    There was already a decent-sized crowd in the living room, but there was also space to welcome a lot more. I recognized a few faces, including Rall Axton, who stepped away from the unknown couple he was with to come and greet us.


    ¡°Mr. Noctis, Miss Cole,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯m so glad that you could make it. I¡¯m sure that Ellis would say the same thing, but I think she¡¯s already been pigeonholed by someone. My main job is to go around every ten minutes to see if she needs rescuing from a conversation.¡±


    He said this so cheerfully and matter-of-fact-ly that I couldn¡¯t tell if he was joking or not. If I was a betting girl, I¡¯d say he was serious, and I would have put an extra wager on the proposal that Ellis Oliversen had asked him to do it.


    ¡°Is Olivia down yet?¡± he asked.


    ¡°She¡¯s a second or two behind us,¡± I said.


    ¡°Oh!¡± He hooked his hands into his pants pockets and beamed at me. ¡°Then I¡¯ll go escort her in. I never get to do that.¡±


    With an equal mix of jealousy and happiness for Olivia, I watched him leave. I hoped he¡¯d embarrass her real good.


    We hadn¡¯t made it more than two steps into the living room when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and saw Nylah Oliversen, looking like two million bucks in the world¡¯s chicest navy-blue dress.


    ¡°Emerra,¡± she said, ¡°there¡¯s someone here¡ª¡±


    Before she could say anything else, I heard a voice that made me lose all interest in poor Nylah.


    ¡°Emerra!¡±


    The voice was about as average as a voice can be for a middle-aged white male, but it instantly brought a grin to my face.


    ¡°Cosmo!¡±


    I bounded past Nylah toward the man who¡¯d called me. He smiled, and we both reached out in that supremely awkward and friendly way that two natural huggers do when they know that social expectations dictate they aren¡¯t good enough friends to justify an embrace. It usually settles into a handshake-slash-arm-grab combo.


    We were so happy to see each other, neither of us minded the awkwardness. Or maybe we were both used to it.


    Cosmo was still clean shaven and round of face, with the same gray-white in his hair, down-turned eyes, and glasses that I¡¯m pretty sure he wore as a fidget toy. His normal blue sports coat and collared shirt had been traded in for a gray and black number. He wasn¡¯t fooling anyone, but I¡¯d die before I¡¯d be the one to tell him that.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you look sleek tonight?¡± I said.


    He blushed and pushed up his glasses despite the fact they were already at the top of his nose. Any final traces of coolness that he¡¯d been trying to cultivate curled up and died. I felt no guilt. A man that sweet and cute has no business being cool anyway.


    ¡°Thank you, Emerra.¡±


    It was about then that the rest of the room came to intrude on our happy reunion. You can only ignore the pressure of that many stares for so long.


    I grinned sheepishly and leaned closer to him so I could mutter, ¡°I¡¯m sorry. This is your territory, isn¡¯t it? Should I call you Mr. Uhler or Master Uhler or something?¡±


    He put his hand on my arm. ¡°No, no. We agreed on Emerra and Cosmo. I get enough ¡®Master Uhler¡¯ around here.¡± He lowered his voice and added, ¡°I¡¯d rather be around a friendly face than a respectful one at the moment.¡±


    ¡°Oh! Then, no worries.¡± I winked at him. ¡°I¡¯ve got you covered.¡±


    We both became aware of the presence haunting our side and turned. Nylah was standing beside us. The stiffness of her body and the way her eyes were widened made me think she¡¯d suffered an unpleasant surprise.


    She took an uneasy step toward us. ¡°You know each other.¡±


    Her voice was breathy, with a slight squeak. It sounded like someone was using a bicycle pump to attempt CPR on a small rodent that was already dead.


    Oh. She¡¯d thought I¡¯d been lying.


    Of course, she was right, but the unfortunate soul had guessed wrong about which part was the lie.


    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± Cosmo said. ¡°We¡¯re good friends.¡± He turned his head toward me. ¡°Though I am surprised to find you here. Is there something these witches know that I don¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Nah.¡± I waved off any unwarranted interest. ¡°I¡¯m here with Jacky.¡±


    Cosmo paused. It was an infinitesimal moment. If I hadn¡¯t been watching his face, I might have missed it.


    ¡°Jacky¡¯s here?¡± His eyes scanned the room, searching for the skeleton.


    Not a skeleton, I reminded myself. And there¡¯s a chance Cosmo won¡¯t be able to find him.


    I pointed to Big Jacky, who¡¯d migrated toward another group. ¡°He¡¯s over there.¡±


    Cosmo¡¯s eyes widened when his brain registered Jacky¡¯s presence. ¡°Well,¡± he muttered, ¡°this is an interesting party.¡±


    A familiar voice said, ¡°Nylah?¡±


    All three of us looked around as Ellis Oliversen walked up and laid her hand on Nylah¡¯s elbow. She looked beyond her daughter to me and Cosmo.


    ¡°Oh,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t know you¡¯d arrived, Master Uhler.¡±


    Hearing Ellis Oliversen refer to good ol¡¯ Cosmo as ¡°Master Uhler¡± threw a wrench in my brain-cogs. I¡¯d subconsciously come to think of her as the most powerful witch in the state¡ªif not the world¡ªbut there was no mistaking the deference in her voice.


    I was standing, elbow to elbow, with the most powerful witch in the room¡­and I¡¯d winked at him.


    Since the positioning of our group would make a handshake difficult, Cosmo inclined his head in a polite bow. ¡°Good evening, Mistress Oliversen. Thank you for allowing me to come on such short notice.¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± she said. ¡°Your invitation always stands, and we¡¯re honored to have you. Was someone at the door to meet you?¡±


    ¡°Miss Oliversen showed me in.¡± Cosmo nodded toward Nylah.


    ¡°And she introduced you to¡­Miss Cole?¡±


    ¡°She didn¡¯t have to,¡± Cosmo said.


    ¡°They¡¯re friends,¡± Nylah added.


    The bicycle pump had been put aside, and the words were uttered with the same numb finality as ¡°they¡¯re dead.¡±


    Ellis¡¯s eyes slid from her daughter over to me. I had no idea what expression would appease those calculating eyes, so all I could do was try to avoid looking like an idiot. No bets on how well I succeeded.


    ¡°Did you need Miss Oliversen?¡± Cosmo asked.


    Ellis looked at him.


    ¡°You called her name,¡± he said.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Ellis blinked. ¡°Yes. Thank you. I¡¯m sorry, Nylah, but do you mind if I drag you away for a moment?¡±


    Nylah looked at Cosmo. ¡°Um¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Miss Oliversen,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m sure Emerra can take care of me.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re sure, Master Uhler.¡±


    Ellis and Nylah excused themselves. As soon as they disappeared into the crowd, Cosmo put his arm out like an old-fashioned gentleman.


    ¡°Shall we?¡± he said.


    I grinned and put my arm through his. Middle-aged men could be so darling sometimes.


    To solidify his image as a gentleman, he leaned his head closer to mine and said, ¡°You look lovely in that dress, by the way.¡±


    I swished the skirt out from my legs using my free hand. ¡°Thank you.¡± I added in a conspiratorial whisper, ¡°Nylah had to loan it to me. I didn¡¯t come prepared for all this socializing.¡±


    Cosmo nudged his glasses again. ¡°Emerra, I wear a suit coat whenever I¡¯m out, and I¡¯m never prepared for socializing.¡± He put his hand over mine. ¡°You¡¯ll protect me, won¡¯t you?¡± said the most powerful witch in the room.


    ¡°Do you need protection?¡± I asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s how introverts survive when we have to go to parties. We find a friendly looking extrovert and stick to them like a lamprey.¡±


    I threw back my head and laughed.


    Cosmo reminded me a lot of Conrad. Both immeasurably powerful men, but if you put them in a room with a crowd, they¡¯d be the ones hiding in the corner.


    Still thinking of Conrad, I said, ¡°You don¡¯t go to many parties, do you?¡±


    ¡°Not if I can help it. And I can usually help it.¡± He made a face. ¡°I¡¯m the torrman for several different covens, so I get a lot of invitations to these kinds of gatherings, but I think most of them are a formality.¡±


    ¡°You have to invite all the fairies, lest you offend one of them.¡±


    Cosmo looked at me out of the corner of his eye. ¡°You¡¯re joking, but you¡¯re not far off the mark. They don¡¯t dare ignore me, but they¡¯d be awfully surprised if I came.¡±


    ¡°You came tonight,¡± I pointed out. In my head, I added, And on short notice.


    The torrman looked uncomfortable. ¡°It¡¯s unusual circumstances. I needed to talk to Mistress Oliversen.¡±


    ¡°Is everything all right?¡±


    ¡°Oh, fine. Fine.¡± Cosmo was smart enough to know he wasn¡¯t much good at lying; he rushed to change the topic. ¡°Anyway, me being here isn¡¯t half as surprising as Jacky being here.¡±


    ¡°He never comes to parties?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯s ever been invited to them.¡±


    ¡°Which is funny,¡± I said with a smile. ¡°You¡¯d think people would be a lot more worried about offending that particular torrman.¡±


    Cosmo didn¡¯t answer. When I glanced over, I caught him watching me from the corner of his eye again. The thoughtfulness in that look reminded me of Ellis¡¯s calculating gaze. For the first time, I was really impressed by the fact that Cosmo Uhler was a witch.


    He looked away. ¡°Most people don¡¯t realize who he is.¡±


    A slight sense of unease¡ªno, it was smaller than that. A sense of imbalance caused my thoughts to tilt. Cosmo (who I was beginning to suspect concealed gobs of intelligence behind those fidget glasses) had so carefully pitched his voice that I could almost hear the echoes of all the details he¡¯d left out.


    Cosmo Uhler was the witches¡¯ torrman, Reynell was over the alchemists, Thorburn had his squad of thrismages, and Ashworth led the sorcerers. Jack Noctis was over no one. How many people even knew there was a fifth torrman?


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Then again, it could be the fact that he was the embodiment of death. His existence and the events of his life seemed to be built on secrets.


    Cosmo said in an almost convincingly off-handed tone, ¡°I wonder if Ellis Oliversen knows.¡±


    I was glad I could at least put his mind at rest about that.


    ¡°Jacky¡¯s invitation was more of a fluke than anything,¡± I explained. ¡°We came down here for a different reason, but since we¡¯re staying with the Oliversens, Ellis had to invite us.¡±


    ¡°Ah. Do you mind if I ask what brought you down here?¡±


    ¡°Uhhhh, it¡¯s kind of convoluted.¡±


    It also involved a lot of Oliversen family drama, and I didn¡¯t feel comfortable airing my host¡¯s dirty laundry. It seemed ungrateful.


    I picked the safest line of explanation and went for it. ¡°We came down here to watch Jacky¡¯s apprentice give her first-year report.¡±


    Cosmo let out a soft hum. ¡°I¡¯d heard he had an apprentice. That must be an interesting relationship.¡±


    ¡°Oh, dude. You have no idea.¡±


    ¡°You know her?¡±


    ¡°She lives with us.¡±


    Cosmo¡¯s eyebrows jumped. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you lived with Jacky.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Right. Well, I do, and so does she. Would you like to meet her?¡±


    ¡°I would love to.¡±


    The crowd had grown since we¡¯d started chatting, but it wasn¡¯t hard to spot Olivia. Her red hair stood out. She¡¯d left it down in loose waves that I now knew, for a fact, took fifteen minutes with a curling iron and a lot of profanity to perfect.


    She was talking to Owen Ashworth and the alchemist, Cameron Misserly. Rall Axton was beside her.


    I led Cosmo up to them while trying to think of an elegant way to insert myself into the group.


    I shouldn¡¯t have bothered. Ashworth saw us coming.


    ¡°Cosmo! Miss Cole! Come join us.¡± He looked at the others in his group. ¡°Do you mind?¡±


    Axton answered for all of them. ¡°Not at all.¡±


    Misserly stepped aside so we¡¯d have room as we approached.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you¡¯d be here, Cosmo,¡± Ashworth said.


    ¡°Good evening, Owen. Rall.¡±


    ¡°Master Uhler,¡± Rall said, ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve had the chance to meet my youngest daughter.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why I brought him over,¡± I said. ¡°Cosmo, this is Olivia Oliversen, Jack Noctis¡¯s apprentice. Olivia, this is Cosmo Uhler.¡±


    In the most humble voice I¡¯d ever heard from her, Olivia said, ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Master Uhler.¡±


    Cosmo gave her one of his shy smiles. ¡°The pleasure¡¯s mine, Miss Oliversen.¡±


    ¡°Jacky got himself an Oliversen,¡± Ashworth said wryly. ¡°Can you believe it? I don¡¯t know about you, Cosmo, but I¡¯m jealous.¡±


    Olivia blushed in a most becoming manner. I smiled when I saw it. Rall put his arm around his daughter and pulled her closer to his side.


    ¡°Got her?¡± he said. ¡°Mr. Noctis is enjoying a temporary loan. And only by Olivia¡¯s leave.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all right, Daddy.¡± Olivia¡¯s voice was low and menacing enough to remind Rall Axton he was supposed to be on his best behavior.


    ¡°Ha!¡± he said. ¡°I know these magician types. They¡¯ll try to put a collar around your neck if you¡¯re not careful.¡±


    He glared at the two torrmen. Owen and Cosmo looked at each other with faintly embarrassed smiles, but neither tried to deny the accusation. Misserly, however, was eager to disassociate himself from the corrupting influence of the power market.


    He held up his hand. ¡°You¡¯re safe from my intrigues, Miss Oliversen. I¡¯ve no earthly use for you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Cosmo said to him, ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve met.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Owen said, ¡°we got distracted by Mr. Axton¡¯s defense of his daughter¡¯s autonomy.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a worthy defense!¡± I cried.


    ¡°Thank you, Miss Cole,¡± Rall said.


    We nodded to each other with mock seriousness.


    Dr. Misserly reached out to Cosmo. ¡°Miss Oliversen referred to you as Master Uhler? You¡¯re a witch, sir?¡±


    ¡°I am.¡±


    They shook.


    ¡°I¡¯m Dr. Cameron Misserly.¡±


    We all saw Misserly hesitate, but it was Owen Ashworth who guessed its cause.


    ¡°Go on,¡± Owen said. ¡°You can say it here.¡± The torrman turned to his fellow torrman. ¡°Dr. Misserly is an alchemist.¡±


    ¡°Is it some kind of a secret?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No more than normal,¡± Misserly said, ¡°but I¡¯m not used to being surrounded by other magicians.¡± He looked over both his shoulders as if he expected to be swarmed at any moment.


    Owen leaned closer to me. ¡°The alchemists are the most anti-social of our lot. They work by themselves, passing along their knowledge from master to apprentice, or making it up as they go along. Poor Reynell spends half her time trying to flush out the new alchemists from whatever hole they¡¯re hiding in long enough to get their names.¡±


    A sudden thought popped into my head. And, of course, it was out of my mouth before my brain had time to register and file it away.


    ¡°How do you guys handle all that when you¡¯re talking with non-magicians?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± Misserly said.


    ¡°Like, when someone asks you what you do, you¡¯re not allowed to say that you¡¯re a sorcerer or an alchemist, are you?¡±


    Cosmo said, ¡°It depends on the circumstance, but most of the time we¡¯re not supposed to.¡±


    ¡°Then what do you do?¡±


    Ashworth bestowed upon the group one of his priceless smiles. Since he was looking at me when he unleashed that weapon, I felt my heart beat faster.


    ¡°There¡¯s strategy there,¡± he warned me. ¡°You have to be able to make good on your bluff, so I recommend using a hobby you know a lot about. Half the people I know think I¡¯m an investor¡ªor, rather, that I¡¯m only an investor.¡±


    Yup. That fit him. And his suits.


    I turned to Cosmo.


    When he saw me looking at him, his shoulders tweaked up in a fidgety shrug and he blew out his breath. ¡°I usually go for the boredom angle. I tell people I¡¯m a middle manager. I¡¯ve never had anyone ask me questions.¡±


    My nose wrinkled up when I held back my laugh.


    Rall said, ¡°What about you, Doctor?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I got lucky there,¡± Misserly said. ¡°Most of my background is mundane. I know enough about science to get myself into all kinds of trouble.¡±


    Cosmo said, ¡°Is that what your doctorate is in?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Which branch of science did you study?¡±


    Misserly shrugged, probably in an attempt to create an air of cool detachment, but he was betrayed by the interest in his eyes. ¡°A bit of everything. Biology. Chemistry. I settled on physics to get my degree, but I love it all.¡±


    ¡°Good god, man!¡± Rall cried. ¡°What on earth kind of an alchemist does that make you?¡±


    Every once in a while, I wondered if Iset offered a course like ¡°Magicians and Magic 1010¡± or if there was some kind of a book: The Complete Idiot¡¯s Guide to Not Standing Out in the Magical World. If there was, I hadn¡¯t read it.


    I squeezed Cosmo¡¯s arm so he¡¯d lean closer to me. ¡°Are there different kinds of alchemists?¡±


    I¡¯d lowered my voice, but I hadn¡¯t lowered it enough. Ashworth heard me, and he loved to lecture.


    ¡°If you ask an alchemist,¡± he said, ¡°they¡¯ll tell you there are hundreds¡ªmaybe thousands. A different type for each one of them. If you ask the other magicians, we usually shove them into three or four categories, depending on what they like to work with.¡± He raised a new finger for each category. ¡°Atmos, bios, khemos, mekhanos.¡±


    Rall added, ¡°They¡¯re a lot like how they sound¡ªbios for biology, khemos for chemistry¡ª¡±


    Olivia grabbed her father¡¯s arm. ¡°Stop. No, stop.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm?¡± he turned to look at her.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you see you¡¯re hurting him?¡± Olivia nodded to Dr. Misserly.


    Olivia had winced when her father started his recital, but the man who was both a scientist and an alchemist had twice the reason to be offended by it. You could tell by the pained expression on his face.


    ¡°That¡¯s not¡­quite¡­how that works,¡± he said with a sigh.


    ¡°Oh, I know,¡± Rall assured him, ¡°but that¡¯s the only way I remember them. I don¡¯t know about ¡®atmos,¡¯ though. I¡¯ve never heard of that one.¡±


    ¡°Atmos, as in, atmosphere,¡± Ashworth said. ¡°I think the word means vapor.¡±


    Rall betrayed an unconscious (and adorable) confidence in his daughter when he looked to her for a better explanation.


    She said, ¡°They specialize in working with the magic that wafts off the elements.¡±


    ¡°I thought they all did,¡± Rall said.


    ¡°Atmos alchemists don¡¯t bother changing it much.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Rall Axton looked up at Ashworth. ¡°That must be a rare group.¡±


    ¡°Incredibly so,¡± Ashworth agreed. ¡°Ford¡ªhe¡¯s the head of Ledasein¡ªis trying to round them up and force them to join his school.¡±


    ¡°He wants them to become sorcerers?¡± Rall asked.


    Ashworth nodded.


    ¡°I wish him luck,¡± Misserly said. ¡°The two atmos alchemists I¡¯ve met are the most stubborn people I know. I think it¡¯s required for their work.¡±


    Ashworth bowed his head to hide his smile.


    ¡°What about you?¡± Cosmo said to Misserly. ¡°You never said¡ªwhat kind of alchemist are you?¡±


    Misserly shoved both hands in his pants pockets. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m none of the above. I must be in one of the other thousand categories that Mr. Ashworth didn¡¯t name.¡±


    The joke had been delivered with the exact amount of flippancy required for cocktail party humor.


    While we were all smiling in appreciation, a familiar looking woman came up to Olivia¡¯s side and gently laid a hand on her shoulder.


    To the rest of us, she said, ¡°Excuse me,¡± then she looked at Olivia. ¡°I heard you were asking for me, dear?¡±


    ¡°Oh! Mrs. Bovoyay. Yes, thank you.¡± Olivia turned to her father. ¡°Would you excuse me for a few minutes.¡±


    ¡°Of course, darling,¡± Rall said. ¡°You go on. I¡¯ll hunt you down and bother you later.¡±


    Olivia glared at him for a second, but all she got from that was a narrowed-eyed view of his most charming smile. She rolled her eyes and left with Mrs. Bovoyay.


    Beside me, Cosmo lurched a half-inch forward. ¡°Actually¡ª¡±


    The other men turned to listen, but Cosmo was watching Rall Axton.


    He went on, ¡°If this group is breaking up, I wonder if I could borrow you, Rall.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± Axton turned to the torrman.


    ¡°Do you think you could arrange for me to talk to Ellis?¡±


    ¡°Master Uhler, I¡¯ll have you know, I¡¯m rude enough that I can arrange anything. Come on. It¡¯s about time for me to go find her anyway.¡±


    Cosmo said to me, ¡°Will you be all right, Emerra?¡±


    I smiled and said, ¡°Isn¡¯t that my line?¡±


    He smiled back. I withdrew my hand so he could escape. He and Rall excused themselves. I was left with Ashworth and Misserly.


    That wasn¡¯t exactly¡­comfortable¡­for me, but it was a darn sight more comfortable than if I¡¯d been left alone with Ashworth.


    Owen Ashworth was probably a decent human being¡ªyou know, for a self-serving aspirant¡ªand the poor guy couldn¡¯t help the way he looked any more than I could. But prejudice isn¡¯t reasonable, and I didn¡¯t like standing next to a guy who a) kept trying to figure out my secrets, and b) could make my heart race faster by standing too close.


    That made Dr. Cameron Misserly my new best friend. I had to keep him there.


    I sidled closer to the alchemist. ¡°So, you¡¯re a none-of-the-above type alchemist? Do you mind if I ask¡ªdo you use a mix of all the types or something else altogether?¡±


    Being addressed so suddenly made his eyebrows jump, but he said, ¡°I don¡¯t mind. I use a mix. It¡¯s mostly khemos and bios, but I have to make a lot of devices just to do my work. It really is hard to classify an experimental investigator. Our entire methodology is ¡®whatever works.¡¯¡±


    Owen stepped toward us, closing in the ranks and making it easier to hear. ¡°Experimental investigator? Lord! I thought you were all dead!¡±


    ¡°Give me time,¡± Misserly said. ¡°I¡¯m sure an experiment will get me someday.¡±


    The two men were smiling, and neither of them seemed bothered by the morbid turn in the conversation.


    When Ashworth noticed the confusion that was written all over my face, he explained: ¡°A hundred or so years ago, it was fashionable for alchemists to call themselves ¡®experimental investigators.¡¯ Like the good doctor, they tended to use a mix of the different types of alchemy.¡± He turned back to Misserly. ¡°I don¡¯t know why that fashion died out.¡±


    ¡°Neither do I,¡± Misserly said. ¡°It¡¯s a damn good title.¡±


    ¡°How did you learn your craft?¡±


    ¡°Original source research.¡±


    Ashworth¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You used books?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what you have to do when all your masters are dead.¡±


    The torrman shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m glad I¡¯m not an alchemist. You have my respect, Doctor.¡±


    Without warning, Misserly said to me, ¡°What do you do, Miss Cole?¡±


    I gaped at him. Half my mind went blank and watched with zen-like detachment as the other half of my brain spun into high gear.


    Crap!


    What was I supposed to say? I couldn¡¯t claim to be Big Jacky¡¯s warden¡ªAshworth wouldn¡¯t fall for that, and Misserly didn¡¯t know enough about Jacky to care. ¡°Freeloader¡± was accurate, but not something I wanted to brag about to a man with a Ph.D.


    Wait! Hadn¡¯t we been discussing how to lie about what you did less than five minutes ago? What had they said? Something about using your hobbies or trying to be as boring as possible?


    I was still deliberating between claiming to be an artist and claiming to be a call-center worker when Misserly added, ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll have to ask outright¡ªare you a witch?¡±


    Oh, thank god! An easy one.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a witch,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not actually a magician.¡±


    I could feel Owen Ashworth¡¯s eyes on me. It felt like spiders crawling up my neck.


    The torrman had been among the crowd of people kicked out of the courtroom when I¡¯d invoked the b¨°id. It¡¯s possible he believed that I wasn¡¯t a magician, but he knew that wasn¡¯t the end of the story. The question was, would he say anything?


    Misserly, free from any concern about what I may or may not be, nodded. ¡°That makes sense. Forgive me, but I wondered when I saw you waiting outside ARC Hall while the rest of your party was inside.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but that wouldn¡¯t matter,¡± Ashworth said. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure they¡¯d be less likely to let her in if she was a witch.¡±


    His voice sounded odd, as if he was trying to sound casual while laying down a trap, hoping that I would talk. It would probably be a sticky trap. Something like a tar-pit.


    I pressed my lips together. It''d be hard to get tar off these shoes.


    Misserly, who was definitely my new best friend, came to my rescue. ¡°How do you mean?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a process for getting into the archives of ARC Hall when you¡¯re not a member of the coven,¡± Ashworth explained. ¡°It¡¯s lengthy, tedious, and after all your hard work appeasing the bureaucrats, whether you get in or not is still at the whim of the head librarian or mistress of the coven.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve tried to get in before?¡± Misserly asked.


    ¡°Several times. I was approved once¡ªwhich is still infinitely more times than I¡¯ve heard of them letting in a witch from another coven.¡±


    ¡°Why would you want to go in?¡± I asked. ¡°Can you use their magic?¡±


    Ashworth had the gall to raise one of his perfect eyebrows at me. Who did he think he was? Darius Vasil?


    ¡°Their magic?¡± he said. ¡°No. Parts of their spells? Possibly. That¡¯s what I was researching. But even if a sorcerer can¡¯t use the spells themselves, we can usually use their knowledge.¡±


    Thoughts drifted through my head. The memory of Olivia bent over three books at once. The fact that she could recognize most sorcery spells.


    ¡°She has learned principles and theories from every major branch of magic¡­¡±


    Olivia¡¯s determination to overcome her magical blindness had turned her into some kind of magician¡¯s mutt. Was that normal?


    I said to Ashworth, ¡°Are most sorcerers¡­um, you know¡ªbilingual? Like you?¡±


    The torrman laughed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±


    I let out a short sigh. Some people were over here speaking magic in three different languages, while I was still struggling with English. I despaired sometimes. I really did.


    I tried again: ¡°Would most sorcerers know how to use the magical theory from, oh, say, the witches?¡±


    Ashworth only watched me, his face completely inscrutable.


    I grunted. ¡°Dude, you¡¯ve got to help me out here. I¡¯m not a magician, remember? Was my question even close to intelligible?¡±


    ¡°I understood it,¡± Misserly said quietly.


    I shot him a grateful look.


    When Ashworth finally answered, his voice was low and level. I¡¯d heard him talk that way to Jacky and Darius¡ªbut never to me. He must have turned off the charm.


    ¡°If I was estimating,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯d put my guess at around fifteen percent.¡±


    ¡°Fifteen percent?¡± I repeated.


    ¡°Most sorcerers are content to learn what they can from their colleges and apply it. The better ones develop their own spells using the system they¡¯re trained in, but sorcerers that reach outside their own study to try to gain insight¡ªthey¡¯re rare. And they tend to be among the best.¡±


    Like you, I thought.


    I turned to Dr. Misserly. ¡°What about the alchemists?¡±


    ¡°Many more. Most of us.¡± He smiled. ¡°It¡¯s the rule of whatever works.¡±


    So there would be a lot of people interested in the contents of ARC Hall. Not that I actually knew what those contents were.


    I asked Misserly, ¡°Did you get a chance to see anything during your tour?¡±


    ¡°I got to see exactly how large and impressive it was,¡± he said, ¡°then I was whisked away.¡±


    Ashworth clapped a hand on Misserly¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I know how you feel, sir. Believe me, I know.¡±


    Movement caught my eye. I looked over in time to see something large cross the opening that led from the living room to the hall. Since it was only the briefest glimpse, all I got was an impression of size and color before it disappeared behind the wall¡ªbut that impression was enough to make me feel like someone had yanked the floor out from under my feet and left me standing on thin air.


    ¡°Miss Cole?¡± Misserly said. ¡°Are you all right?¡±


    ¡°Um, yeah.¡± I tried to focus my attention back on him. A brief, bemused laugh bubbled up from nowhere. When that was over, I said, ¡°Thank you. I¡¯m fine.¡±


    But it was no good. My eyes drifted back to the doorway.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± I said.


    I walked between Misserly and Ashworth, toward the door, but stopped when I felt a hand take my arm. I looked back. It was Ashworth.


    ¡°Are you leaving?¡±


    He¡¯d turned the charm back on.


    ¡°I¡¯m not¡ªwell, yes,¡± I sputtered, ¡°I am leaving. But I¡¯m not leaving, leaving.¡±


    One edge of the torrman¡¯s lips lifted in a smirkish smile that was both devastatingly handsome and profoundly irksome.


    ¡°Care to try again?¡± he said.


    I was blushing hard enough my cheeks were the right shade of magenta to compliment the color of my dress.


    Sure. He could be casual about it. He was probably used to people around him stuttering like idiots.


    ¡°I thought I saw something,¡± I explained.


    ¡°Someone you know?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No.¡± I hesitated. ¡°Just¡­something.¡±


    ¡°This is a busy party. If you¡¯re not sure what you saw, then it was probably nothing.¡±


    He had a point. By then, most of the guests had arrived. There was movement and colors everywhere. The room was dancing with little gestures and the occasional shine of light off of various cocktail glasses. As I watched, a couple strode past the opening. They were looking at each other, and they displayed no agitation or surprise.


    It was probably nothing.


    Ha! Forget that.


    If it was nothing, then it was about to be a well-investigated nothing. I knew my brain, and I knew it wouldn¡¯t shut up until it had some answers.


    ¡°Then I¡¯m going to the bathroom,¡± I growled.


    At first, Ashworth didn¡¯t move. His eyes stayed fixed on my face. He had good reason to be suspicious of my overly convenient bladder, but it¡¯s not like he could call my bluff by offering to come with me.


    Three cheers for social conventions!


    He let his arm drop back to his side and said, ¡°When you get back, you¡¯re welcome to join us.¡±


    I was already halfway to the door. I wasn¡¯t even sure if he heard my hasty ¡°uh-huh.¡±

 Chapter 30 - Eavesdropping

    Three cheers for social conventions was probably two cheers too many. I wanted to run after whatever it was I¡¯d seen, but the hall was crowded, and people turned to watch me as I dodged by. My cheeks went red, and I forced myself to slow down.


    A moment later, I burst out from the crowd. All the guests and servers were behind me. The empty house stretched ahead of me, dotted with only one or two figures.


    I whirled around and searched the group I had emerged from. Everything and everyone looked perfectly normal except¡ªjudging by a few of their concerned glances¡ªme.


    I turned back around and wandered down the mostly empty hall, feeling grateful for the space and absence of curious eyes. I frowned at the carpet as I walked, and my brain skimmed over its ignorance, trying to pick out a few insights and getting nothing.


    I was so distracted, I almost walked into someone.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± said a warm, friendly voice.


    I looked up.


    I didn¡¯t know the woman. She was tall and moderately overweight. Her blond hair was twisted up in a knot at the back of her head, and honesty compels me to describe her form-fitting, beige-colored dress as ¡°unbecoming.¡±


    When Darius had taken me to buy an outfit for the trial, he¡¯d forbidden me from buying taupe shoes. He claimed the color was too close to the light gray of my suit pants.


    ¡°You need the contrast,¡± he explained.


    I¡¯d given in because one does not argue with a vampire who¡¯s sacrificed his whole day-off to take you to a dozen different clothing stores, but now I understood his insistence in a deep, almost spiritual way. I had been touched by fashion enlightenment.


    The shade of the woman¡¯s dress was a bit too close to her skin tone. The sequins sparkled marvelously, but in the bad light of the hall, you had to look twice to see that she wasn¡¯t naked and covered in dew.


    That explained it. Here was my nothing, and it was covered in sequins.


    I fought back the urge to hug her.


    ¡°Were you just down there?¡± I asked, pointing.


    ¡°I was,¡± she admitted. She looked flustered. ¡°The crowds bother me after a while. It helps if I can step away.¡±


    ¡°I get you, sister.¡±


    She smiled when she heard we were unexpectedly related.


    ¡°Is anyone else down there?¡± I asked.


    ¡°In the hall, no, but if you¡¯re looking for a place to hide, I¡¯d recommend against it. Mistress Oliversen and Master Uhler are talking in the study.¡±


    My ears perked up.


    Oliversen and Uhler, you say? Yes, any clear-thinking individual would go out of their way to avoid overhearing those two witches, lest there be some unfortunate misunderstanding about eavesdropping.


    I waved away her concern. ¡°I¡¯ll only be a minute. I¡¯m heading to the bathroom. Someone¡¯s waiting at the other one.¡±


    She nodded and went on her way.


    After she disappeared into the crowd, I snuck down the hall toward the study. When I was close, I flattened myself against the wall and eased nearer to the gap between the door and the doorframe. First I heard the sound of their voices¡ªspeaking in turns, low and fast. There was an edge to the noise that reminded me of an argument, and it sounded like they¡¯d been talking for a while. The moment I could make out the words, I stopped and held my breath.


    ¡°Where did you hear that?¡± Ellis said.


    My ears were straining for all their worth, but there was no answer.


    The mistress spoke again: ¡°It¡¯s true, anyway. So, as you can see, we¡¯re already prepared if anything should happen.¡±


    ¡°Has anything happened?¡± Cosmo asked.


    ¡°No.¡±


    There was another pause.


    ¡°Master Uhler?¡± Ellis prompted.


    ¡°Do you ever get tired of trying to do everything yourself?¡±


    What little edge had been in Cosmo¡¯s voice was gone. All that was left was his exhaustion. I could hear each word sinking into it, as if they were boulders being laid in fine sand.


    ¡°I can¡¯t say that I do,¡± Ellis said.


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s easier for you Mistresses. Each coven is its own clam. All you have to do is close up ranks. I¡¯m the one that has to go around, trying to pry you all open. After a few years, it becomes tiring.¡±


    The clam had nothing to say to that.


    Cosmo went on, ¡°I¡¯m not your enemy, Ellis. I want to help if I can, but the largest obstacles I face are the people I¡¯m trying to help¡ª¡±


    Stolen story; please report.


    Ellis¡¯s voice broke in; it was quick and dismissive. ¡°You have helped, Master Uhler. You¡¯ve given me the warning. What else can you do? I hope you don¡¯t expect me to allow you to interfere with my coven.¡±


    With what must have been iron patience, Cosmo said, in his gentle voice, ¡°This may concern more than just your coven.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s only if your suspicions are correct, and if they are, that¡¯s their concern. I will protect what¡¯s mine.¡±


    A voice right by my ear said, ¡°Emerra.¡±


    My heart shot into my throat as if it¡¯d been sitting in a lit cannon. I had to slap a hand over my mouth to stifle my gasp. Once the white fuzz cleared from my vision and my heart settled into a rhythm that could only compete with the slower drum lines, I grabbed onto Big Jacky¡¯s hand and dragged him away from the study door, deeper into the abandoned hallway.


    ¡°What¡ª¡± he started to say.


    One glare from me was enough to get him to shut his flapping jaw bone.


    We were a few rooms away, standing next to the stairs that led to the basement, when I finally let go of his hand and turned to him.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I whispered fiercely. ¡°You nearly killed me!¡±


    Despite the complete lack of face to have an expression with, Jacky still managed to look skeptical. ¡°It¡¯s not in my nature to ¡®nearly¡¯ kill people, Emerra.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah. That¡¯s really comforting.¡± I craned around him to keep an eye on the door.


    ¡°I saw you leave the party and followed you,¡± Jacky explained.


    My eyes jerked back to him. ¡°You were following me?¡±


    He nodded.


    ¡°And I didn¡¯t see you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You seemed intent on other things.¡±


    ¡°How long were you standing beside me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not good with time.¡± He sounded reproachful, as if I should have known that.


    And I did know that.


    A day and a decade felt the same to Jack Noctis. Whenever he told you he¡¯d be home ¡°soon,¡± it was a good idea to press him for a few details. He could¡¯ve been standing next to me in that hall for a second, or he could have been there the whole time.


    It bothered me to think that someone so important to me could be standing right there and I could miss him.


    ¡°What were you doing?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I was spying on Mrs. Oliversen and Cosmo.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°He was trying to warn her about something.¡±


    ¡°Warn her? About what?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I didn¡¯t catch it.¡± I glanced at the door again. ¡°Can you ask him? I mean, you¡¯re his boss, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Jacky turned and gazed toward the study. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to Iset.¡±


    ¡°Not Iset, Jacky! Cosmo! I need you to ask Cosmo!¡±


    ¡°I understood the request, Emerra, but my relationship to the Torr is not as simple as that of a boss and his subordinates, and I¡¯d rather not put Mr. Uhler in a position where he would want to lie to me.¡±


    My mouth clamped shut. Hard. A chill wafted through my stomach.


    No. Nobody wanted that¡ªnot Jacky, not me, and certainly not Cosmo.


    ¡°Jacky tends to treat omission of facts different than he does lies,¡± Darius had said.


    I wasn¡¯t sure how Big Jacky treated lies¡ªI was too scared to ask¡ªbut I got the impression it was¡­bad.


    I sighed and leaned against the wall beside me. Jacky joined me.


    ¡°Are you tired?¡± he asked.


    I nodded.


    ¡°Did you have another nightmare last night?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but it¡¯s nothing new. Is Kirby still alive?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I whispered. A second later, I said, ¡°Jacky, what¡¯s it like in ARC Hall? Can you tell me, or is that some kind of secret?¡±


    ¡°Under the circumstances, I don¡¯t mind. But out of consideration for the coven, I¡¯d recommend you not repeat what I tell you.¡±


    I remembered poor Cosmo, so tired of prying all the time, and Olivia¡¯s scorn for the tradition of silence.


    ¡°Is the secrecy all that important?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Jacky admitted. ¡°It¡¯s easy to see the problems it¡¯s caused. It¡¯s hard to see the ones it might have prevented.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough.¡±


    Jacky pointed his eye sockets at a random bit of empty space near the hall ceiling. ¡°They have a large room used for gatherings and conferences¡ªthat¡¯s where the formal dinner tomorrow will be held. They also have numerous smaller rooms for meetings and solitary study, a few offices, and three main libraries.¡±


    ¡°Why do they have three libraries?¡±


    ¡°The first is for storing prototypes and essential examples of devices, tools, and physical charms that have been created by members of the coven. The second is the general reference section. It¡¯s where students and practicing witches can look up information on magical theory and specific spells. The last library is their archives.¡±


    Archives. The word had a distinctly historical sound to it.


    ¡°What are in their archives?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I suppose that it¡¯s like most other coven archives. It would contain all the significant records and writings created throughout their history.¡±


    ¡°You suppose? You haven¡¯t been in there?¡±


    ¡°No. That¡¯s the area of the Hall that¡¯s under the most security.¡±


    ¡°They have a room full of magical toys that go boom!¡ªbut they think the most important things to protect are their records?¡±


    Jacky sounded puzzled. ¡°Isn¡¯t that logical? Which would you choose to protect¡ªthe devices, or the records that teach you how to make them?¡±


    That shut me up.


    ¡°Did your question about ARC Hall have something to do with Nolan Kirby¡¯s kidnapping?¡± Jacky asked.


    ¡°I was trying to figure out what might be worth stealing from there.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, that question has too many possible answers.¡±


    ¡°It sounds like it.¡± I dropped my head back against the wall.


    Jacky went on, ¡°And I don¡¯t see how that information would be useful. I know that we¡¯re working under the assumption that the kidnapper is also the thief, but how would knowing their target at ARC Hall help?¡±


    ¡°I thought it might help us figure out who they are.¡±


    When Jacky didn¡¯t answer, I rolled my head to look at him. He was regarding me with the deepest part of his empty eye sockets.


    I tried to explain. ¡°I was talking to Misserly and Ashworth. I know that both of them would be happy to get a free-pass into that building, but I figured that they wouldn¡¯t be interested in the same stuff. Ashworth would probably go for the spells, but I¡¯ll bet Misserly would be more interested in the devices. If we could figure out what the thief was targeting, then maybe we could figure out what kind of person would benefit the most from having it, and¡ªboom!¡±


    ¡°One of the devices explodes?¡± Jacky said.


    ¡°No! Boom! We have a list of suspects!¡±


    ¡°Ah. I see.¡± He paused. ¡°There are several problems with your theory, Emerra.¡±


    As far as I could tell, there were nothing but problems with my theory, and most of them centered around the fact that we had no way of knowing what the thief had been after. Anything Jacky had to add would be nothing but icing on the disaster cake.


    ¡°Go on,¡± I said.


    ¡°First, thieves don¡¯t always steal for themselves. They often sell what they take.¡±


    ¡°But that wouldn¡¯t matter in this case,¡± I pointed out. ¡°Not if they were trying to get some kind of tool that would help them with¡­I don¡¯t know¡ªwith whatever they¡¯re planning on doing.¡±


    ¡°That brings me to my second point,¡± Jacky said. ¡°It isn¡¯t always the person that would most benefit from possessing the stolen object who¡¯s the most willing to steal it. That depends too much on the circumstances of the thief. A sorcerer may normally prefer to obtain a spell, but if it¡¯s a device they need to meet their objective¡­¡± Jacky shrugged.


    He was right. Before I could draw any conclusions, I¡¯d need a much better idea¡ªor any kind of an idea at all¡ªabout what their final objective was.


    ¡°Anything else?¡± I asked.


    ¡°One more minor point.¡±


    Why not? That could be the cherry to go on top. I motioned for him to continue.


    ¡°I already know the type of magician that would most benefit from obtaining something stolen from ARC Hall, regardless of what that thing is.¡±


    ¡°What type?¡±


    ¡°A witch.¡±

 Chapter 31 - Certainty

    Cosmo found me when he was done talking to Ellis, but I didn¡¯t get a chance to ask him anything. First, because I would¡¯ve found it difficult to explain how I knew enough to ask him about the warning, and second, because being an important witch makes you automatically popular at a witch¡¯s party. Go figure.


    Everyone wanted a chance to talk to Cosmo.


    Considering how gracefully he was handling it, I wasn¡¯t sure I was doing much good as a protector. Then I caught him looking at me right after I¡¯d asked what I¡¯m sure was a stupid question to a witch who fairly jumped to explain how I didn¡¯t understand a thing. The gratitude poured from his eyes. We could both stand there and listen to the woman educate me. The torrman wouldn¡¯t have to say a thing.


    Ignorance, it turns out, can be almost as useful as knowledge.


    An hour later, in the first free moment he¡¯d had since returning to the room, Cosmo said to me under his breath, ¡°Do you think I can escape now?¡±


    ¡°Run for the door!¡± I whispered back. ¡°I¡¯ll cover you.¡±


    He gave me a look. ¡°That wouldn¡¯t be polite. I have to at least say goodnight to my host.¡±


    I listened for laughter. That was usually a reliable sign that Rall Axton was nearby. No luck.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if Rall¡¯s in the room,¡± I said.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll say goodbye to Ellis.¡±


    She was standing only a few groups away, talking in an easy, comfortable fashion, completely at home with the attention.


    When Cosmo touched her elbow, she excused herself and walked closer to the door with us. Once we were away from everyone else, Cosmo explained that he was leaving.


    ¡°So soon?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I have to drive back to my motel and get some sleep. I need to be back in the city tomorrow morning. Thank you again for having me. You have a lovely home.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for coming, Master Uhler.¡±


    I marveled at how casual her manner was. If I hadn¡¯t personally been eavesdropping on it, I never would¡¯ve believed those two had been arguing.


    Cosmo might have been thinking along the same lines. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped and nudged his glasses.


    ¡°Good luck, Mistress Oliversen,¡± he said. ¡°Call me if you need anything.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡±


    The torrman turned. ¡°Thank you for keeping me company, Emerra. Say hello whenever you see me.¡±


    I grinned. ¡°That¡¯s a promise, Cosmo.¡±


    Any man who compliments me when I¡¯m wearing a twirly dress is automatically a friend for life.


    He nodded to us one last time, then left. We watched as he passed through the crowd and disappeared out into the hall, leaving behind a room full of color, subtle movements, and the quiet babble of a dozen voices.


    ¡°Who are you, Emerra Cole?¡± Ellis said.


    I turned to her. She was still gazing at the doorway, but when she felt my eyes on her, she looked at me.


    ¡°Who are you, really?¡± she said in the same quiet, level voice.


    I had to swallow before I could answer. ¡°Nobody.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not a witch, but you call one torrman by his first name, while another recognizes you from yards away and runs to greet you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the hair. It¡¯s easy to spot. Especially if it¡¯s sunny.¡±


    Her face didn¡¯t so much as twitch.


    ¡°You know?¡± I prompted. ¡°From the glare?¡±


    Still no reaction.


    Whew, I thought. Tough crowd.


    ¡°Nylah told me that you claim you have no power.¡± Ellis tilted her head, but her eyes never left my face. ¡°I don¡¯t see it. There¡¯s something about you. Maybe it isn¡¯t power, but you¡¯re not nobody.¡±


    I turned away before she could notice my eyes. ¡°There are a lot of unimportant people in the world, Mrs. Oliversen. Sometimes we make our way into important lives.¡±


    At last, she reacted: her gorgeous lips pulled back in a sly smile. ¡°What an interesting way to put that.¡±


    She took a breath and let her eyes drift over the room. The moment they were off me, I felt relieved.


    She went on, ¡°Of course, some people would argue that there¡¯s no such thing as an unimportant life. What do you think?¡±


    Forget there being something about me¡ªthere was something about her. The sound of her voice was mesmerizing. It rolled from word to word without hurrying.


    ¡°I think that¡¯s playing with jargon,¡± I said. ¡°Are all lives important?¡± I shrugged. ¡°But I know that some lives make a bigger difference to the world than others.¡±


    She was watching me again. In self-defense, I turned the conversation on her.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re very perceptive.¡±


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    So much for that deflection.


    I was about to pull out a shield, when Ellis turned her head. Her gaze floated over the crowd until it fixed on something.


    ¡°She¡¯s beautiful, isn¡¯t she?¡±


    I followed her line of sight. Ellis was watching her youngest daughter.


    Olivia was standing in a small group with Ashworth and two witches I didn¡¯t know. Even beside Ashworth, she glowed. Her smile, her laugh, and her motions were all natural and unaffected. If Ellis had the grace of the perfectly posed, Olivia had the grace of the poseless.


    A drop of envy splashed into my heart like a drop of lemon juice in water. Enough to add flavor, but not enough to make it sour.


    What a butthead.


    ¡°She is,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Why do you think Mr. Ashworth is so interested in her?¡±


    I glanced up at Ellis. She was still watching her daughter, but I remembered the calculating look that lived right behind her eyeballs, and decided, on this matter, I didn¡¯t need to play dumb.


    ¡°He recently found out she¡¯s Big Jacky¡¯s apprentice. I think he¡¯s curious about that.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t we all,¡± Mistress Oliversen muttered. A second later, she added, ¡°It would¡¯ve been a smart match.¡±


    My brain had to do a few laps before it caught up to what she was saying.


    ¡°You mean Ashworth and Olivia?¡± I struggled to keep the incredulity out of my voice.


    Ashworth wasn¡¯t someone you dated. Ashworth was someone you put behind glass so you could look at him. And it had to be really thick glass so he couldn¡¯t get to you.


    There had to be some kind of line you crossed; if you were this beautiful, or this powerful¡ªor, even better, both¡ªthen you could evaluate Owen Ashworth as dating material. I had not crossed that line. I couldn¡¯t see that line with binoculars.


    But Ellis Oliversen had left that line behind her three seconds after emerging from her awkward preteen years.


    ¡°He¡¯s a powerful magician,¡± she said, ¡°and quite accomplished. There is, of course, the problem of Olivia still being a minor¡ª¡±


    I smiled when I heard the fierce note in Ellis Oliversen¡¯s voice. Whatever else she was, she was still Olivia¡¯s mother.


    ¡°¡ªbut Rall will step in if he thinks Mr. Ashworth is giving her too much attention. He¡¯s nothing if not protective of his daughters.¡± She leaned toward me and lowered her voice. ¡°Which is rather adorable, all things considered.¡±


    I felt my heart grow lighter. I was getting my first glimpse of the Ellis Oliversen that Rall Axton had fallen in love with.


    ¡°Magic marries magic?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Usually.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t¡ª¡± I hesitated. ¡°You don¡¯t arrange it, do you?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t go that far. But there¡¯s a lot of competition to find a suitable partner.¡± Ellis frowned, and her voice dropped into a mutter. ¡°At least Olivia won¡¯t have to deal with that.¡±


    The frown had vanished almost as soon as it had appeared, leaving her face soft and motionless. The only points of tension in her body were in her shoulders. She was holding them up.


    ¡°How do you mean?¡± I said.


    When Ellis glanced at me, her eyes narrowed. I don¡¯t know what she was suspicious about, but she relaxed when she saw my expression.


    ¡°Because of Olivia¡¯s¡­condition¡­most of the males from the powerful lines won¡¯t consider her as a wife. In some ways, it¡¯s a shame. But it gives her a lot of freedom.¡±


    ¡°Is it really that big of a deal? I mean, she¡¯s still powerful, right?¡±


    ¡°If things had been other than the way they are, Olivia would¡¯ve been one of the most powerful witches in the world. She would¡¯ve been the pride of the Oliversen and the Axton lines.¡± Ellis looked at the floor, and the muscles in her jaw tightened. ¡°But that didn¡¯t happen.¡±


    As I watched Ellis, a strange sense of certainty stole into my body. From every distant point it gathered, pooling in my chest until I could feel the weight of it. I was used to the ongoing chatter of my mind¡ªI was not used to carrying around unarticulated thoughts in my ribs.


    I found myself saying, ¡°No, I don¡¯t get it. How is she not powerful?¡±


    Mrs. Oliversen let out a short sigh. It sounded like I¡¯d finally managed to irritate her. It took longer than I thought it would.


    ¡°Miss Cole, can you imagine how much more Olivia could¡¯ve accomplished if she¡¯d had even a speck of talent?¡±


    ¡°Can you imagine how much more Olivia could¡¯ve accomplished if she¡¯d been allowed to use aids? I can. I¡¯ve watched her work.¡±


    That was an exaggeration. I couldn¡¯t do a comparison, even by imagination, because Olivia was one of the few magicians I¡¯d seen at work. But, hey! It looked impressive to me, and I wasn¡¯t about to let a pesky thing like logic ruin my argument.


    ¡°Aids?¡± Mrs. Oliversen said.


    ¡°Runes. Paper guides. Tools.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± Ellis¡¯s smile twisted up on one side. ¡°You¡¯re not familiar with our culture, are you, Miss Cole?¡±


    I said, ¡°Nope.¡±


    I deliberately did not say that, at the moment, I didn¡¯t see that as much of a downside.


    ¡°Witches don¡¯t use those kinds of tools.¡±


    ¡°Olivia does.¡±


    ¡°Olivia¡¯s probably become reliant on them.¡±


    ¡°A moment ago, you were saying that Owen Ashworth was powerful and accomplished. He¡¯s a sorcerer. Does he use them?¡±


    ¡°He has to. A witch shouldn¡¯t have to.¡±


    ¡°Olivia doesn¡¯t have to either. How many years did she spend at that school proving that she was powerful enough to kick everyone¡¯s butt blindfolded?¡±


    ¡°Miss Cole, I appreciate that¡¯s your perspective, but you¡¯re not a witch, and you wouldn¡¯t understand.¡±


    There was no passion or anger in my voice, but my next words came from the certainty in my chest, and they carried all the weight of it.


    ¡°The world is made up of more than just witches, Mistress Oliversen, and I think that if you were less obsessed about who your daughter could¡¯ve been, you might have appreciated the daughter you had.¡±


    I had gone too far. I could see that the moment the words left my mouth. Ellis¡¯s face flushed, her hands trembled, and her jaw was clenched shut. As I watched the suppressed rage twitching around her features, I thought about Rall Axton¡¯s no-holds-barred fight, and wondered if there would be enough left of me to fill even part of a teaspoon.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± a voice to our side said.


    Ellis and I looked over. It was Olivia. Neither of us had noticed her approach. Her eyes were moving between us. Her body was tense, and her expression was nervous.


    Ellis took a breath and swallowed. When she spoke, her eyes moved restlessly, looking anywhere other than at me or her daughter.


    ¡°You have a good friend, Olivia. She¡¯s almost as tactful as you are. Excuse me.¡±


    Ellis left the room, sweeping past Rall as he came back in and ignoring him when he called her name.


    Olivia rounded on me. ¡°What did you say to her?¡±


    My brush with death had left me a humbler woman. I resumed breathing and let the tremor of my nerves work their way out of my body. Then I licked my lips and tried to think of how to answer.


    ¡°Would you believe me if I told you it wasn¡¯t important?¡± I ventured.


    ¡°Were you talking about me?¡±


    ¡°Uhhhh¡­maybe a little bit.¡±


    ¡°What did you say?¡±


    ¡°Look, I¡¯ve already got one witch mad at me¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got two. Answer my question.¡±


    ¡°I told her that I didn¡¯t understand why you weren¡¯t considered powerful just because you can¡¯t sense magic!¡±


    I bit down hard on my lips immediately after I¡¯d said it, but it was too late.


    ¡°Then you know.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s voice was quiet. I kept my eyes away from her face. I didn¡¯t know what I¡¯d see if I looked at her, and I didn¡¯t think she¡¯d want me to see it.


    She chuckled.


    My head jerked up. It was Olivia¡ªI wasn¡¯t imagining things. One arm was across her chest, bracing up her other elbow. Her raised fingers were resting on her temple, and she was shaking her head.


    ¡°Yeah. That would make her mad,¡± Olivia muttered. ¡°I didn¡¯t think it would make her that mad.¡±


    I was so bewildered, I had no idea what to say.


    Olivia looked at me. ¡°You sure know how to pick your enemies, Emerra.¡±


    Oh. Wow. Now I knew what to say.


    ¡°That coming from you?¡±


    She let her hands drop to her sides. ¡°Emerra, witches can only ever see one way of doing things. If you can¡¯t do it that way, then you¡¯re not powerful. I can¡¯t be like them, so as far as they¡¯re concerned, I¡¯m a lost cause.¡±


    I felt a feather-touch of melancholy respect when I heard how matter-of-fact she sounded. I knew how long you had to carry a burden before you forgot it was a burden.


    She added, ¡°But it doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°When you learn not to care what others think, you find all the freedom you need to get things done. I¡¯d rather have my freedom than what the witches consider power.¡±

 Chapter 32 - Another Burglary

    The knock came at four in the morning.


    I was hovering between asleep and awake, wondering what would be the best way to apologize to a witch for being the world''s most presumptuous twit.


    I had no right to say what I had to Ellis. What did I know about her and Olivia? Nothing but the bare-bones story of one of the worst times in their lives and a few distracted comments made by Ellis during a cocktail party. Did I really think that was enough to judge by?


    But in spite of all the compelling reasons I had for why I should feel bad, I didn''t.


    Whenever I thought back on the moment, I remembered Ellis¡¯s face¡ªthe sadness in her eyes, how she''d lowered them so she wouldn''t have to look at Olivia¡ªand the certainty returned, as powerful as ever. If I thought too much about it, I''d wind up walking around with a boulder in my chest.


    Don¡¯t get me wrong¡ªit bothered me how much I¡¯d upset her. I felt bad about that, but it seemed like nothing in the world could make me feel bad about my comment.


    Sure. Why not? One of the world¡¯s least decisive people suddenly decides to stake her flag on an indefensible hill surrounded by a swamp of ignorance. Go me.


    I was still arguing with myself, trying to work up an appropriate amount of guilt, when the loud knocking made our bedroom door rattle on its hinges.


    Beside me, Olivia jerked awake.


    I put my hand on her arm so she wouldn¡¯t accidentally hit me.


    ¡°Emerra?¡± she grumbled.


    The knocking came again.


    ¡°Olivia,¡± Ellis called from outside the door.


    Considering the ridiculous hour, the violence of her knocking, and the tone of her voice, I was wary. But at least she wasn¡¯t yelling my name.


    Olivia and I got up. Since I had to walk around the bed, she reached the door before I did. She opened it as I came to stand behind her.


    Ellis was in a dressing gown. Nylah was standing behind Ellis, also in a dressing gown, but she was turned partly away from the door, refusing to look at any of us. Rall was in the hall, almost out of sight.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Olivia asked.


    A stream of indigo light specks poured off of Ellis toward her daughter.


    Without thinking, I grabbed Olivia by the arm and yanked her back.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I demanded.


    The stream of magic stopped. What was left of it curled over itself like fog and faded away.


    Ellis stared at me.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Olivia repeated. ¡°Is something wrong?¡±


    Ellis returned her attention to her daughter. ¡°Have you been here all night?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a simple question, Olivia. Answer it.¡±


    ¡°Of course I¡¯ve been here all night!¡±


    Ellis said to me, ¡°What about you?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t left the room.¡±


    ¡°Did either of you hear anything?¡±


    ¡°I was asleep!¡± Olivia said. ¡°We both¡ª¡±


    Olivia stopped herself and turned to me.


    ¡°I heard Nylah,¡± I said.


    Nylah¡¯s head jerked up when she heard her name.


    I went on, ¡°I think it was her. I heard her door open and some footsteps. That¡¯s all.¡±


    Ellis kept her eyes fixed on mine. ¡°Why were you awake?¡±


    ¡°I have nightmares.¡±


    If that witch wanted a staring contest, I was ready to stand there all morning.


    ¡°Mother, what¡¯s going on?¡± Olivia asked.


    Rall sauntered up to his wife¡¯s side. His hands were buried in his pajama pockets. ¡°Someone stole the silver from downstairs.¡±


    My eyes widened. I pulled the door open, forcing every Oliversen in the house to take a step back so I could get into the hallway.


    I yelled as I ran toward his door, ¡°Jacky!¡±


    Noctis had enough presence of mind to remember to open the door to his bedroom.


    ¡°What is it?¡± he asked.


    ¡°There¡¯s been a robbery. Can you check all the outside doors?¡±


    He nodded once and disappeared.


    That was¡­unfortunate. But at least he appreciated the need for haste. Maybe Ellis and the others would be too distracted to notice they hadn¡¯t seen him leave his room.


    I walked back to the group gathered around our door and addressed myself to Rall. ¡°Who locks up the house at night?¡±


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    ¡°I do, unless Ellis is coming in late.¡±


    ¡°Did you lock up tonight?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I checked every door before I came up for bed.¡±


    ¡°How sure are you?¡±


    ¡°A hundred percent.¡±


    I believed him. I looked at Ellis. ¡°What silver are we talking about? Is it, like, utensils or something?¡±


    Olivia said, ¡°She means downstairs in the basement. It was the blessed silver from the workroom.¡±


    Blessed silver? That was magic stuff. That was what you wrapped around knife blades when you needed to stab vampires. That¡¯s what you coated mirrors with.


    ¡°How bad is it?¡± I asked Olivia.


    Nylah said, ¡°Oh, it¡¯s pretty damn bad. If Olivia doesn¡¯t have it, we¡¯re going to have to call Ansel.¡±


    ¡°Did you take it?¡± Ellis said.


    ¡°No!¡± Olivia sounded offended, and I couldn¡¯t blame her. ¡°I haven¡¯t been anywhere near the workroom since I¡¯ve been home! And if I needed any silver, I wouldn¡¯t come to you for help.¡±


    Ellis¡¯s jaw tightened. Rall reached out to take both his wife and his daughter gently by the arm.


    ¡°Olivia,¡± he said, ¡°it¡¯s early, and we¡¯re all upset. Please go easy on your mother.¡±


    Sweet of him. I hoped for the best, but I had other things to worry about. So did Olivia¡ªif I could get her to put her family issues aside long enough to remember that.


    ¡°Could one of the guests have stolen it?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Nylah said. When I looked at her, she crossed her arms. ¡°I was having trouble sleeping.¡±


    I don¡¯t know why she sounded so defensive. If anyone could empathize with her, it was me.


    She went on, ¡°I decided to work until I felt drowsy, but I needed to get my notebook from downstairs. The silver was there when I went to grab it.¡±


    ¡°You saw it?¡±


    ¡°It sits in a clear jar on a shelf above the desk. I saw it.¡±


    ¡°What time did you go down?¡±


    ¡°Around two-thirty or three.¡±


    ¡°Did anything seem weird?¡± Olivia asked.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t sense anything,¡± Nylah said.


    Ugh. Witches. I let Olivia roll her eyes for both of us.


    ¡°No one sensed anything with the other robberies either,¡± I reminded her. ¡°Did anything non-magical seem weird to you?¡±


    Her face took on the snide expression that preceded one of her rude or sarcastic comments, but it suddenly cleared.


    ¡°The light was on,¡± she said.


    ¡°Is that weird?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The first time it was a little weird, but I didn¡¯t think too much about it. I assumed that I must have accidentally left it on. I shut it off on the way out the door, but when I went to put my journal back, the light was on again.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t leave the light on,¡± Ellis said. ¡°I went around after the party to make sure that no one had left any dishes around the house. All the lights were off downstairs.¡±


    Olivia stepped toward her sister. ¡°Was there anyone in the workroom?¡±


    ¡°Are you stupid?¡± Nylah asked.


    ¡°They might have been hiding!¡± I said.


    ¡°There¡¯s nowhere to hide down there! I would¡¯ve seen them.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± I put my open hands up by my head and jerked them down in front of me. ¡°We have to get this perfectly straight.¡± I turned to Nylah. ¡°You went downstairs to the workroom. The light was on, but no one was there. The silver was where it should have been. You left the room, turning off the light as you went. When you came back, about an hour later, the light was on again and the silver was gone. Is that right?¡±


    Nylah thought for a moment, then nodded.


    Olivia and I looked at each other.


    ¡°Could they have heard her coming?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s possible,¡± Olivia said, ¡°but she would¡¯ve seen them coming out of the room. The stairs open right onto the basement hall.¡±


    ¡°What if they were hiding in another room?¡±


    Olivia hesitated. ¡°I¡¯ll go check.¡± She turned toward the stairs.


    ¡°What do you two know about this?¡± Ellis asked.


    Olivia didn¡¯t bother turning around to answer. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Mother. I¡¯m involved. How important can it be?¡±


    Ellis opened her mouth, but when Rall¡¯s hand tightened around her arm, she shut it without saying a word. She turned away, but not before I caught a glimpse of her face. It looked like she¡¯d swallowed a gallon of vinegar.


    ¡°Should I call the chief?¡± Nylah asked.


    Her eyes were moving between me and Ellis. It took me a second to realize the implication of that, and when it struck me, it hit like a lead pipe out of nowhere.


    What complete idiot decided to put me in a position of authority?


    My brain replayed a few clips from that morning, politely pointing out who¡¯d been bossing people around and asking them a bunch of questions.


    Right. I was the idiot. That fit.


    ¡°We have to,¡± Rall said. ¡°The only question is whether we call now or later in the morning.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll do it later,¡± Ellis said. ¡°Let Ansel sleep. I doubt she¡¯ll be able to sense anything we couldn¡¯t.¡±


    She pulled her arm away from her husband and headed toward her bedroom.


    It was probably too late for me to abdicate, but I did my best by saying in my meekest voice, ¡°Mrs. Oliversen, do you mind if I look around downstairs?¡±


    She stopped and turned.


    ¡°I promise I won¡¯t touch anything,¡± I added.


    ¡°Do as you please, Miss Cole. I have no doubt you would¡¯ve anyway.¡± She continued down the hall.


    I said to Nylah, ¡°You might want to write out what happened. Try to get everything in order, and write down all the details you can. It¡¯ll help you remember.¡±


    ¡°How do you know all this stuff?¡± Nylah said.


    Oh, there were so many interesting answers to that question! I decided not to mention the fact I¡¯d given one or two statements before. I thought it might sound suspicious.


    ¡°I know an FBI agent,¡± I said. ¡°He¡¯s talked to me about it.¡±


    Nylah watched me for another second, her face stern, then she went to her room without indicating whether or not she intended to listen to my suggestion.


    When she was gone, Rall said, ¡°Is there anything I can do to help?¡±


    ¡°Can you search the house to see if anything else has been taken?¡±


    ¡°Let me throw a sweater on.¡±


    While he did that, I went downstairs to find Big Jacky. He was standing by the open front door, looking beyond the front porch into the darkness. I joined him on the threshold and wrapped my arms around myself in a futile attempt to keep warm.


    ¡°They left from here,¡± Jacky said. ¡°All of the other doors were locked.¡±


    ¡°Were there any signs of a break-in?¡±


    ¡°None that I could find.¡±


    ¡°Can you tell if any of the locks were picked?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. I regret the fact we weren¡¯t able to bring Conrad with us.¡±


    Conrad?


    Jacky added, ¡°Too many people know to wipe their fingerprints, but very few people can evade a lycanthrope¡¯s sense of smell.¡±


    And here I¡¯d been wasting my time wishing I could kidnap Agent Vasil and get his opinion.


    ¡°Can we bring Conrad here?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. We¡¯d need special permission from the Torr and unusual circumstances to justify it. By the time we could arrange all the security, the scent would be gone.¡± Jacky turned his skull to look at me. ¡°What was stolen?¡±


    ¡°Some blessed silver.¡±


    Jacky returned his attention to the yard. ¡°That¡¯s very bad.¡±


    My stomach sank some more. I hadn¡¯t realized it had been sinking, but this time, when it dove, it reached a new level of the abyss. ¡°The Oliversens said that too. Jacky, why¡¯s it so bad?¡±


    ¡°The gravity of having your supply of blessed silver stolen is similar to someone having their gun stolen.¡±


    My voice rose: ¡°It¡¯s that dangerous?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s that useful. The gravity is the same, but the threat is more a question of potential. The crafters who work with blessed silver only sell completed products. To steal it as a raw element means that you intend to create something for yourself, and you don¡¯t want other people to know what you¡¯re creating.¡±


    ¡°I thought the kidnappers didn¡¯t use magic!¡±


    ¡°We assumed that because they haven¡¯t used magic in any of their burglaries. But ARC Hall was one of their targets, and considering what they''ve stolen tonight, I think we have to assume we were wrong.¡±


    I shivered.


    Jacky must have seen it and thought I was cold.


    I was cold, but that wasn¡¯t why I shivered.


    He put his skeleton hand on my shoulder. ¡°Go back inside. Search the house for anything unusual. Especially any magic.¡±


    ¡°Ellis and Nylah didn¡¯t sense anything.¡±


    ¡°I understand. I¡¯d still like you to look around.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re hoping I¡¯ll have another vision¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your visions are welcome tools, Emerra, but I wouldn¡¯t presume to rely on them. Your eyes¡ªjust your eyes¡ªare enough.¡±


    ¡°What are you going to do?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to check for footprints.¡±

 Chapter 33 - What Would We Know About Weirdness

    They called Ansel around seven in the morning. By then, the adrenaline boost I''d received at four had faded and my energy had disappeared. Time stretched out like bleary taffy, and the weariness grew on me until I felt stretched out too. I knew I was in trouble when the chief''s questions and everyone''s answers, including mine, became a monotonous drone that whiffed by my eardrums and sailed through my head without ever reaching my brain.


    Two eons later, Ellis left for work and Ansel finished what she needed to do. She offered Nylah a ride into town. The rest of us gathered in the kitchen to be morose together.


    When the constant stream of coffee I''d been pouring into my empty stomach wasn''t enough to keep me alert, I knew I had to get out of there. I slid off the tall stool I''d been sitting on.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Olivia asked. She was sitting on the stool beside me.


    ¡°I need some cold air,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll go out for a short walk, maybe look for some footprints.¡±


    Big Jacky was standing by the kitchen door. ¡°Emerra,¡± he said, ¡°I didn¡¯t find any footprints, and I told Officer Ansel as much.¡±


    I didn¡¯t really think I¡¯d find anything either, but I didn¡¯t have the energy to explain to Jacky the many reasons why a walk would do me good, and I knew how to beat him at his own game.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, ¡°but did you search everywhere?¡±


    His skull jerked back slightly. ¡°Not everywhere. That would¡¯ve been impossible. I only searched the most likely areas.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯m going to go find a few unlikely areas.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    Olivia said, ¡°It¡¯s all right, Mr. Noctis.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t be long, will you?¡± Rall asked. ¡°Nylah usually makes breakfast on the weekends, but since I¡¯ve been left in charge, it¡¯s going to be waffles.¡±


    ¡°Waffles sound wonderful,¡± I told him.


    ¡°Olivia!¡± Rall cried. ¡°You¡¯ve been conscripted.¡±


    She groaned and dropped her head on her folded arms.


    ¡°You can¡¯t whine,¡± Rall said. ¡°A soldier never whines! Now, fetch the flour. I¡¯ll dig around and see if your mother¡¯s found where I hid the bacon.¡±


    I put on my boots and grabbed my coat from off the rack near the door. Then I walked out into the peaceful morning.


    The moment the door clicked shut behind me, I decided in a numb, not-thinking kind of way, that I wanted to retrace the thief¡¯s path.


    It would¡¯ve been easy for them to get away from the front door without leaving any footprints. It¡¯d been weeks since the last major snowfall. The dusting that had fallen early last night had gathered on top of the old snow, but it had soaked into the shoveled walks and drives. All our mysterious thief would have had to do was follow the walk down to the front drive and out onto the plowed street. It¡¯s what I would¡¯ve done. Especially if I was barefoot.


    ¡°Weirdo,¡± I muttered under my breath.


    And if that¡¯s what they¡¯d done, then we really did need Conrad. No one else would be able to follow the trail.


    Thinking about my wolf-boy made me feel a pang of homesickness.


    I checked the time on my phone. It was later than I thought. Back in the Noctis mansion, breakfast would¡¯ve been served and put away, and Igor would be working on the dishes. Kappa would start stirring soon, moving from the warmth of his nest to the warmth of the kitchen only when his rumbling belly compelled him to. Conrad usually skipped his workout on Sundays, but he¡¯d occasionally go on a walk with me to get out of the mansion.


    What would he be doing without me there?


    Whatever he wants, my brain said. You know, like he did for his whole life before you arrived.


    I crammed my hands deep in my coat pockets, turned away from the road, and walked up the sidewalk. I didn¡¯t have anywhere I wanted to go. I just wanted to leave that thought behind me.


    I had no business feeling homesick, and it wasn¡¯t good to get attached. That only meant it would hurt more when they left me.


    Maybe they won¡¯t leave this time, another part of my brain said. And Big Jacky told you that you could stay for as long as you wanted.


    My stomach clenched around the knot it¡¯d already been working on, and my head flushed with anger. Why was I thinking crap like that? It didn¡¯t matter how tired I was¡ªI knew better. If I could¡¯ve taken my head off my shoulders to screw it back on straight, I would have.


    I couldn¡¯t control who stayed or went. It wasn¡¯t their responsibility to take care of me, nobody owed me their friendship or company, and where I lived wasn¡¯t always in my control. All I could do was be grateful and savor the time I have with the people I like.


    I knew that. I knew it. I played those facts through my head, again and again, like a mantra.


    But no matter how many times I repeated them, it never filled that hollow place in my chest.


    My phone was in my hand, then up against my ear before I could stop myself. I listened to the dial tone and tried to stuff my growing shame back into whatever mental Pandora¡¯s box it¡¯d burbled out of.


    ¡°Hey, Mera.¡±


    When I heard the low rumble of Conrad¡¯s greeting, a smile sprang to my face. I closed my eyes and felt my chest heave. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was a sigh or some kind of relieved laugh.


    ¡°Hey, Conrad.¡± I opened my eyes. ¡°Um¡­I¡¯m sorry. Is this all right?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°I know you said any time, but if you¡¯re busy or something, we don¡¯t have to talk.¡±


    ¡°You called. I answered. We¡¯re talking. Isn¡¯t that how it works?¡±


    I always took comfort from Conrad''s off-handed, bemused reactions to my self-consciousness. It reminded me how ridiculous most of my mental drama was.


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    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°How was the party last night?¡±


    My smile widened, and I raised my head to gaze at the smear of thin clouds. ¡°Oh, you know me. I upset Nylah and looked right in my host¡¯s eyes when I insulted her.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. That sounds like the kind of party I wouldn¡¯t mind going to.¡±


    I laughed.


    He said, ¡°Are you calling to tell me you¡¯ve been thrown out and you¡¯re on your way home?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I scuff-kicked the sole of my boot over the sidewalk and wandered as I talked. ¡°This case has me frustrated. I don¡¯t suppose that you could come down here for a few hours? Jacky mentioned how useful it¡¯d be to have your nose.¡±


    Conrad¡¯s voice was lower and softer than normal. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mera. I wish I could help you, but I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°This is because you¡¯re a giant wolfman, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m kind of hard to hide.¡±


    ¡°But you have your wrap, right? Can¡¯t you come down in your wolf form?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. I¡¯m still in trouble over that Aubert thing. It¡¯ll be a lot more than a slap on the wrist if they find out I¡¯ve left the mountain without permission.¡±


    ¡°But if you¡¯re in your wolf form, how will they know it¡¯s you?¡±


    There was a pause.


    ¡°Mera, exactly how many wolves do you think hang out down there? Outside of a zoo.¡±


    I grunted at my own stupidity.


    Conrad said, ¡°I¡¯d only draw slightly less attention if I went there as a wolf. And the rune wrap isn¡¯t meant to be used long-term.¡±


    ¡°Why? Does it hurt you?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not comfortable, but that¡¯s not the problem. The magic in the wrap is limited. Once it¡¯s gone, I¡¯d have to get another one made. And we don¡¯t know what¡¯ll happen to me if I stay in that form for too long.¡±


    ¡°All right,¡± I said. ¡°Scratch that idea. We¡¯ll manage somehow.¡±


    ¡°Has something happened?¡±


    I told him about the string of recent burglaries that culminated in the blessed silver disappearing from right under our noses. He listened quietly. When I finished, he let out a discontent huhm.


    ¡°That¡¯s rough,¡± he said. ¡°To be that close, and then miss them? I get why you¡¯d be frustrated.¡±


    ¡°Sure, but I¡¯m more frustrated because it doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡±


    ¡°Which part?¡±


    ¡°All of it! I don¡¯t know. Where the heck were they, Conrad?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    I stopped walking and looked around. I¡¯d been so intent on talking to Conrad, that I¡¯d wandered into unfamiliar territory. Fortunately, I¡¯d wandered in a straight line. I headed back the way I came.


    ¡°Think about it,¡± I said. ¡°Ellis said all the lights downstairs were off, and none of us were down there until Nylah went to grab her notebook. So who turned on the light in the workroom?¡±


    ¡°Presumably the thief,¡± Conrad said.


    ¡°Right! Easy-peasy. But when Nylah went downstairs the first time, the blessed silver was still there.¡±


    ¡°So the thief hadn¡¯t found it yet.¡±


    ¡°Sure. I¡¯ll give you that. But then where were they when Nylah was getting her notebook? That¡¯s the one that¡¯s bugging me. Say they left the room. They couldn¡¯t have hidden in the hall, Nylah would¡¯ve seen them. And they didn¡¯t hide in one of the other rooms downstairs. Ansel said they were careful to wipe the door handles to fudge up any prints, but the door to the workroom and the front door were the only ones that had been wiped.¡±


    ¡°They could have forgotten to wipe the other door¡¯s knobs. You¡¯ll have to wait to hear if Ansel found any useful fingerprints.¡±


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s a possibility,¡± I grumbled.


    ¡°But you don¡¯t like it,¡± Conrad noted.


    ¡°How did they know Nylah was coming? They¡¯d have to have hearing almost as good as Darius¡¯s! And if they did hear her coming, why would they assume she was coming to the workroom and leave?¡±


    After a brief pause, Conrad said, ¡°These assumptions are getting messy.¡±


    I knew what he meant. When things made sense, the ideas flowed from one to the next with only one or two minor questions tacked on for decoration. Whenever I thought about last night¡¯s theft, all I saw was a glop of muddy-brown confusion that sat there, burping up noxious bubbles.


    I went on, ¡°Maybe they left the workroom before Nylah went downstairs. Maybe they went into another part of the house. But that would only make it more likely that they''d get caught. And what could they have been after? Rall checked the whole house. Nothing else was missing.¡±


    ¡°You said they took a single hypodermic needle,¡± Conrad pointed out. ¡°The lady that ran the hardware store never figured out what they stole. Maybe they were after something small that Axton wouldn¡¯t notice was gone.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s jump down that rabbit hole. We know they managed to get into the house without breaking in.¡± I shrugged even though Conrad wouldn¡¯t see it. ¡°Maybe they snuck in with the guests. Or maybe they were a guest, and they hid until we all went to sleep. Whatever. They found the workroom, turned on the light, left the workroom for some unknown reason before Nylah happened to come down, then they returned to the workroom, turned on the light again, found the silver, and left?¡±


    ¡°As messy as that is, it¡¯s a possibility. But if you want a simpler explanation, then why not assume they never left the workroom?¡±


    I stopped walking and looked up. My brow furrowed. ¡°Huh?¡±


    When I raised my head, I noticed I¡¯d managed to wander back to the Oliversens¡¯ house. It didn¡¯t seem important.


    Conrad said, ¡°Let¡¯s say that the thief got inside, hid somewhere until everyone had gone to sleep, found the workroom, turned on the light and started searching for the silver. They only heard Nylah coming when she was already outside the door. They hid, waited until she¡¯d left, turned the light on again, grabbed the silver, and left out the front door.¡±


    I¡¯d smiled halfway through Conrad¡¯s recital. It was both wry and rueful.


    ¡°I love it,¡± I said. ¡°Best idea ever. There¡¯s only one problem¡ªI forgot to mention that wasn¡¯t possible. I¡¯ve seen the room, Conrad. There was nowhere to hide. If the thief was in the room while Nylah was there, he must have been invisible.¡±


    A cold breeze blew by me during the short silence.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Conrad said, ¡°why not? That makes sense, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    A tickle of frustration crawled up my temples. ¡°There was no magic, remember?¡±


    ¡°There was no magic that left a trace,¡± Conrad pointed out. ¡°That¡¯s not the same thing as no magic.¡±


    ¡°But if the thief was using magic at all, then Nylah would have sensed it!¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that depend on the kind of magic?¡±


    I opened my mouth, but no words emerged from my well of ignorance.


    Conrad went on, ¡°A second ago, you were talking about someone having hearing as good as Darius¡¯s, so we¡¯re not eliminating the idea of supernatural powers.¡±


    ¡°I was being sarcastic!¡± I cried. ¡°I didn¡¯t think they actually had super-hearing!¡±


    ¡°Why not? We¡¯re dealing with someone who¡¯s willing to steal blessed silver from the mistress of a coven. I don¡¯t think they¡¯re going to be a normal person. But I¡¯m just a¡ªwhat is it you¡¯re always calling me? A wolfman?¡±


    A smile crept over my face. ¡°Yeah. You¡¯re a wolfman. And I¡¯m just a dead girl.¡±


    He finished with, ¡°What would we know about weirdness?¡±


    ¡°Invisibility, huh?¡± I couldn¡¯t decide if it was a joke or not. A part of me wanted to laugh while the rest of me wanted to slap on a deerstalker hat, tap a pipe stem against my chin, and hum thoughtfully.


    The joker part of me said, ¡°That would explain why no one saw anything in any of the other burglaries.¡±


    Conrad said, ¡°That would explain what happened to Nolan Kirby.¡±


    Even the joker part of me sobered.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s like me.¡±


    I remembered Kirby¡¯s smile, the unruly crop of dark, curly hair, his hand gently reaching out, and his light, easy-going voice. There was a distinct lack of fur, muzzle, and fangs.


    ¡°How in the world is he like you, Conrad?¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t rely on his sight.¡±


    My mind drifted off into some wide-open space. I felt like I was standing alone in a formless canyon. Conrad¡¯s explanation poured over my dull ears.


    ¡°Say a normal person hears a noise late at night,¡± he said. ¡°They go down to find out what¡¯s happening. When they look around, they don¡¯t see anything. What would they do?¡±


    I thought about Barlowe and the doctor. ¡°They¡¯d go back to bed.¡±


    ¡°But if I heard noises at night, I¡¯d go down there and find them.¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯d smell them,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°If Kirby heard something, he¡¯d go downstairs. He can¡¯t see anything¡ª¡±


    My voice rose: ¡°But that wouldn¡¯t matter because he never would¡¯ve seen anything anyway!¡± I put my free hand to my head. ¡°Oh, no. Oh, geez. He doesn¡¯t use his eyes. He uses his ears. He would¡¯ve heard them, even if they were invisible.¡±


    I knew I was blabbering, but there was no stopping me. Every fragment, part, and personality that was contained in my head was excited.


    ¡°He went down to confront them,¡± I said.


    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t have to be that aggressive,¡± Conrad said. ¡°If all he did was come down to investigate the noise, that would¡¯ve been enough. No one¡¯s supposed to be able to see them, but there¡¯s this guy that keeps coming toward them, and he seems to know where they are¡ª¡±


    I took over: ¡°The thief panics and attacks Kirby. They don¡¯t want to kill him, but they can¡¯t let him go either. He¡¯d warn everyone¡­and¡­¡±


    ¡°And they still had a lot to do,¡± the wolfman said.


    I turned and marched toward the house. ¡°Conrad, I have to go.¡±


    ¡°You need to talk to Olivia?¡±


    ¡°I have to find out if it¡¯s possible!¡±

 Chapter 34 - The Invisible Man

    ¡°Invisible?¡± Rall said.


    The moment I¡¯d walked in the door, I ran back to the kitchen. Olivia was still perched on one of the tall stools at the kitchen island. Jacky had come up to her side. Rall was on the other side of the kitchen island, standing in front of the half-made waffle batter. I was at the end of the island, leaning on the counter and trying not to burst from repressed excitement and anxiety. It felt like I was trying to clutch a bubble.


    Rall laughed and shook his head. Olivia rolled her eyes.


    The bubble quivered.


    ¡°It¡¯s not possible?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I must correct you, Olivia,¡± Jacky said. ¡°This world is stranger than you know. The more experience you have, the more you¡¯ll understand that.¡±


    Olivia briefly grit her teeth, then said, ¡°Mr. Noctis, we¡¯re not talking about some nebulous theory here¡ª¡±


    ¡°But you are. Your assumption is based on the theory that there are only three general ways that invisibility can be achieved. If the magician used an active spell to affect his person or created a tool to cover himself, Nylah would¡¯ve sensed the magic being expended, and if the magician cast a spell on the environment, it would¡¯ve left strong traces.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯re thinking like a witch.¡±


    A faint pink color crept up Olivia¡¯s cheeks.


    Jacky continued, ¡°Before we dismiss the possibility, we need to explore it fully.¡±


    ¡°Could there be some kind of invisible creature?¡± I asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s an interesting question,¡± Jacky said, ¡°but not relevant at the moment. The footprints found in the alley and at the doctor¡¯s were human.¡±


    Rall sounded thoughtful: ¡°And they were bare.¡±


    ¡°If Emerra and Conrad¡¯s theory is right,¡± Jacky said, ¡°that would imply that the magician could only turn their body invisible¡ªnot their clothes. That¡¯s another sign that some other method was used, as a standard spell would¡¯ve had no trouble turning the clothes invisible as well.¡±


    I was appalled, and I didn¡¯t bother hiding it. ¡°Are you telling me someone is out there running around naked? In this weather?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯s implied by the evidence.¡±


    Geez. The thief was even crazier than I had imagined.


    Olivia put her elbows on the counter and rested her head on her fingertips. Her wide eyes were glued to the countertop.


    ¡°Olivia?¡± Rall prompted.


    Olivia raised her head and looked at Big Jacky.


    ¡°Have you thought of something?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have answers,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°This case is short on answers and evidence. I¡¯d welcome your thoughts.¡±


    ¡°If only their body is affected, that makes it sound as if the magic was done in a more invasive way. Could we be talking about some kind of potion? Something that changes them from the inside out?¡±


    For a second, Jacky was still, and no one can do still like Big Jacky. When he crossed his arms, it was like watching a statue come to life. He tapped his finger bone on his sleeve.


    ¡°I wonder¡­¡± he said.


    We all stared.


    A few seconds passed, then Rall said, on behalf of all of us and with enough feeling to cover our combined anticipation, ¡°Well?¡±


    Jacky came out of his stupor and noticed he had an audience. ¡°Forgive me. I was reminded of something that happened a long time ago. It took some time to retrieve the memory.¡±


    ¡°What did you remember?¡± Olivia asked.


    ¡°I remembered that the three journals were never found.¡± When he saw our trio of confused faces, he waved his hand dismissively. ¡°Never mind. Olivia, your thinking is sound. The magic required does change a person from the inside out, but it isn¡¯t a potion. At least, it isn¡¯t only a potion.¡±


    ¡°You know how they¡¯re doing it?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I know of a possible method. Unfortunately, I don¡¯t know exactly how it worked. We never learned that. But we know that it worked only on living tissue, and that the change was permanent.¡±


    ¡°Permanent?¡± Olivia sounded horrified. ¡°That¡¯s transformation!¡±


    I scooted closer to Rall and whispered, ¡°Is transformation bad?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he whispered back, ¡°transformation is difficult.¡±


    ¡°Forget ¡®never mind!¡¯¡± Olivia cried. ¡°What can you tell us?¡±


    ¡°Not much, I¡¯m afraid,¡± Jacky said. ¡°Most of our details come from a hearsay testimony made by Dr. Kemp¡ª¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s Dr. Kemp?¡±


    ¡°He was¡±¡ªJacky hesitated¡ª¡°an unwilling initiate. He told us what the magician had told him before the magician¡¯s demise.¡±


    ¡°This magician would be the invisible man?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yes. The magician in question was trying to find a way to reverse the procedure when the manure hit the propeller.¡±


    I attempted to hold back my laugh, but it escaped as a loud snort.


    ¡°Did I say something funny?¡± Jacky asked.


    Still giggling, I said, ¡°Not at all.¡±


    ¡°Did I use the wrong idiom?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I gave him two thumbs up. ¡°It¡¯s perfect. You¡¯re perfect. Never change.¡±


    Jacky¡¯s eye socket lingered on me for a moment, then he turned to Olivia. ¡°If it was done once, then it could be done again. Would a transformation explain our current difficulty sensing any magic?¡±


    Olivia scowled. ¡°The magic must have changed the way the living tissue functions in relationship to light. Someone could have sensed the magic being used to create the change if they¡¯d been there at the time it was used, and there would¡¯ve been traces left on at least the body, but they would¡¯ve faded by now. At this point, there¡¯d be nothing left to sense.¡±


    ¡°So it is possible?¡± I asked.


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    ¡°It¡¯s possible,¡± Jacky agreed. ¡°The question now is whether or not it fits with the evidence we have.¡±


    ¡°It explains the bare footprints,¡± Olivia said.


    Rall shoved the waffle batter aside. ¡°It would explain how they got in without picking the locks. All they would¡¯ve had to do is sneak in during the day while no one was watching.¡±


    ¡°But wouldn¡¯t someone have noticed if a door opened all on its own?¡± Olivia said. ¡°Maybe not at the Barlowes¡¯ place, but Kirby would¡¯ve heard the door open.¡±


    It burst out of me: ¡°Their partner! Their partner could¡¯ve opened the door, greeted Kirby, and held the door open long enough for the invisible person to slip inside.¡±


    ¡°Oh, right,¡± Olivia said with all the sarcasm she could muster. ¡°So now they¡¯ve got a partner.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s difficult to be an invisible person in a visible world,¡± Jacky said. ¡°If he had a willing partner, it¡¯d make it much easier for their actions to go unnoticed. His partner could buy him food, interact with others, and help him get away after a robbery.¡±


    ¡°But if they¡¯re invisible, why would they need help getting away?¡± Olivia asked.


    ¡°Remember, only the person is invisible. The objects he¡¯s stealing aren¡¯t.¡±


    Rall added, ¡°That would also explain why the thief waited until everyone was asleep before leaving. They didn¡¯t want someone to see the objects floating through the air.¡±


    Jacky stepped forward and laid his skeletal hands on the island top, his fingers spread wide. ¡°Let us theorize. The safest method of executing their crimes would naturally be their preferred method. That¡¯s most likely what¡¯s already been discussed. They hide inside the building during the day, wait until late at night, then take what they want, and leave.¡±


    I thought about the footprints behind the doctor¡¯s office that ended at the street. ¡°Their partner could be waiting outside in a car to pick them up.¡±


    ¡°That fits with Barnaby¡¯s story,¡± Rall said. ¡°There was no sign of a break in. The noise he heard would¡¯ve been the thief moving around. When he checked, he didn¡¯t see anyone and went back to sleep. The thief left without bothering to lock the door behind him.¡±


    ¡°It fits with the theft here too,¡± I pointed out. ¡°And it would¡¯ve fit Kirby¡¯s, if Kirby hadn¡¯t interrupted them.¡±


    ¡°When we got there, Kirby¡¯s door was locked,¡± Olivia said. ¡°At the other places, the doors were left unlocked.¡±


    Jacky said, ¡°If our assumptions are correct, then the theft at Kirby¡¯s store went amiss. The partner probably came to help his invisible associate, and together they worked to cover their tracks. Part of that would include locking the shop to make it appear as if Mr. Kirby went on vacation.¡±


    ¡°And when they left,¡± I said, ¡°they took the spare key with them.¡±


    ¡°Then why did they break into the hardware store and Doc Morgan¡¯s?¡± Olivia asked.


    ¡°But that makes sense!¡± Rall said. ¡°All three places were broken into on the same night! Our invisible friend would¡¯ve only been able to sneak into the first place. They would have to break into the other two.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Jacky muttered, ¡°that is concerning.¡±


    There was an uneasy note in his comment that made the small hairs on my arm stand up.


    ¡°Jacky?¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°One of them is invisible,¡± Jacky said. ¡°Their preferred method of breaking in requires stealth and patience. When something went wrong, they were able to cover up what happened and were coolheaded enough to continue with their plans. There¡¯s an intelligence behind this work. And forbearance. But the fact they left their pattern to break into three locations on the same night speaks of desperation and hurry.¡±


    ¡°We already wondered if it had something to do with the festival,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°I understand that. But what if the stranger in Kirby¡¯s alley was the visible partner? What if they were careful enough to test the wards at ARC Hall? The person who did that would be careful enough to plan so there would be no rush. What happened?¡±


    Olivia groaned and put a hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes. ¡°Mr. Noctis, we forgot about ARC Hall.¡±


    ¡°What about it?¡± I said.


    The little witch let her hand drop back to the counter. ¡°It doesn¡¯t fit. Something must be wrong with our theory.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°Think about it, Emerra! Of all the places they¡¯ve broken into, the Hall is the one they¡¯d be most likely to sneak into during the day. Wards would work on an invisible person the same as it would on a normal person. Sneaking in the front door while the ward is down during open hours is practically the only way they could¡¯ve gotten in! But if that¡¯s what they did, why did the ward get set off during the night?¡±


    ¡°Could they have set it off when they were leaving?¡±


    ¡°Exiting a ward never sets it off,¡± Jacky reminded me.


    ¡°Maybe they tried to go in at night because they were afraid of hiding out in a library full of witches,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe they thought someone might sense them.¡±


    ¡°Doubtful,¡± Jacky said.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because anyone who knows enough about magic to transform the matter of a living being would know about the traces such magic would leave. They showed no fear of hiding in a house full of witches when it came to stealing the blessed silver.¡±


    ¡°And they tested the ward,¡± Olivia said. ¡°Remember? They knew it was there. Why would they test the ward, and then bumble into it the night of the theft?¡±


    ¡°Wait.¡± Rall waved his hand around. ¡°Slow down a bit. I haven¡¯t heard this. You think someone tested an ARC Hall ward? Is that why Ellis got that call at two in the morning?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I explained. ¡°This was earlier, by at least a few days.¡±


    ¡°Were they testing an inside ward or an outside ward?¡±


    Despite his mellow voice, Rall¡¯s question had the stopping power of a ton of dynamite. Jacky, Olivia, and I all stared at him. The room seemed to stare at him. Heck! If I¡¯d thrown googly eyes on top of the waffle batter, they would¡¯ve stopped googling long enough to fix two tiny black beads right on the old man blinking back at us with innocence beaming out of his face.


    Olivia was the one to break the silence. ¡°Did you mean the front ward or the back ward?¡±


    Rall¡¯s brow crinkled. ¡°No, I meant inside or outside. Oh! You¡¯re thinking of the front outside or the one around the back of the building! So they were testing one of the wards outside?¡±


    Olivia lunged to the front of her stool. The sudden movement made it tilt. ¡°There are wards inside ARC Hall?¡±


    Rall leaned away from the sudden teenage onslaught. ¡°I certainly thought so.¡±


    ¡°How do you know this?¡±


    Rall gave her a pitying half smile. ¡°I¡¯ve been married to your mother for a long time, pumpkin. I was bound to learn something.¡±


    ¡°What can you tell us?!¡±


    ¡°Nothing! It¡¯s not like they confided in me. I picked it up from listening to general conversation. Honestly, I don¡¯t even know if I¡¯m right.¡±


    Jacky said, ¡°You sounded more certain when you asked your question.¡±


    ¡°Well, I was! You know how you pick things up and they become facts in your head, but when someone asks you how you know, you¡¯re stumped?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Jacky said.


    ¡°He really doesn¡¯t,¡± I told Rall. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. I understand.¡±


    Rall addressed the rest of his comment to the one who could sympathize: me. ¡°It¡¯s one of those things. I¡¯m pretty sure there are wards inside ARC Hall, and Ellis thinks they¡¯re the important ones.¡±


    Olivia, Jacky, and I turned to each other.


    ¡°If Mr. Axton is correct, then things make more sense,¡± Jacky said. ¡°The invisible thief was able to get inside by sneaking past the open front ward, but they tripped the ward inside because they, like us, didn¡¯t expect it to be there.¡±


    I added, ¡°And maybe the witches powering the wards outside aren¡¯t wardsmen, but the ones powering the wards inside are.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re probably on duty for longer,¡± Olivia said, ¡°so that fewer people would be needed to keep the secret.¡± Her body suddenly went rigid. ¡°But if Daddy¡¯s right, that means the thief was inside.¡± Her eyes widened. ¡°They could¡¯ve looked up anything! They could¡¯ve taken anything!¡±


    ¡°Anything that wasn¡¯t behind a ward,¡± I said.


    ¡°And only if your father is right,¡± Jacky said.


    We turned on Rall again.


    He raised both hands in surrender. ¡°If you¡¯re looking for more information, I can¡¯t help you!¡± He lowered his hands. ¡°But I think I know someone who can.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± Jacky said.


    ¡°Nylah.¡±


    Honestly, I didn¡¯t know how loud a scoff could be until I heard Olivia¡¯s.


    ¡°Nylah won¡¯t help us,¡± she said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be too sure, pumpkin,¡± Rall said.


    When Olivia looked away from her father, I glimpsed her expression. Part of her lip was lifted, as if she was trying to sneer, but the rest of her face was slack with grief. She managed to keep her voice even. ¡°Maybe you haven¡¯t noticed, Daddy, but Nylah hates me. What makes you think she¡¯d help?¡±


    Rall¡¯s shoulders drooped and his eyes softened when he heard that blunt announcement. I thought that in the face of such brutal realism, he¡¯d be forced to abandon his baseless dream that his daughters could learn to get along.


    Little did I know, it wasn¡¯t entirely baseless.


    ¡°Because she was asking questions about you and Kirby last night,¡± Rall said.


    Olivia¡¯s whole face went blank.


    Rall crossed his arms. ¡°She asked me how long you and Kirby had been friends, and if I''d heard anything about him being missing.¡±


    Now, I was pretty darn sure that I hadn¡¯t told Nylah Kirby¡¯s name. Which meant that she must have found out about him from someone else¡ªAnsel, probably. But that meant this wasn¡¯t some casual comment made to her father in passing. She¡¯d put actual effort into asking questions.


    Rall added, ¡°I can¡¯t speak to whether or not she hates you, but I think she¡¯s at least curious.¡±


    At close to the pace of resin hardening into amber, Olivia¡¯s blank expression morphed into cold anger. She turned on her stool so her whole body would be facing me during The Glare.


    I squirmed. ¡°Ah, ha! Yeah¡­about that.¡±


    ¡°What did you tell her?¡± Olivia demanded.


    I decided to go on the offensive.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome!¡± I blurted.


    Her eyes narrowed. ¡°Welcome?¡±


    ¡°Clearly, I told her just enough to pique her interest, and hey! Now we can go ask her some questions! That sounds useful.¡±


    Olivia opened her mouth to say something else, but I hooked my arm through hers and dragged her from the stool. ¡°And there¡¯s no time like the present! Rall, do you happen to know where Nylah was going?¡±


    ¡°She was going to help with the festival. She¡¯ll probably be in Town Park, but¡ª¡±


    Jacky nodded to him. ¡°Thank you for your help, Mr. Axton.¡± He followed me and Olivia.


    ¡°Of course!¡± Rall cried to our retreating backs. ¡°But what about breakfast?¡±


    ¡°Another time!¡± Olivia called.

 Chapter 35 - Debts

    The first half of our walk to Town Park consisted of Olivia hissing a long and tedious lecture at me about how one does not have to reveal everything one knows to other people. Really. It felt like I was getting chewed out by a snake.


    The lecture ended abruptly when Jacky told her that she might want to hold off until she knew if my "lack of reticence" was a good thing or a bad thing.


    The second half of the walk was filled with a huffy silence.


    It was a huge relief when the canopies and banners came into view.


    Even though it was early, the festival was already warming up. All of the booths and merchants were ready to go. There were bright colors everywhere, and trickles of people were gathering into small crowds. Some of them stopped to huddle around the gas fireplaces the town had set up. There was laughter and flickering flames. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.


    The contrast made it easy to spot Nylah. She didn¡¯t look like she was having a good time. She wandered from booth to booth, looking around and occasionally referencing the small tablet she was carrying. While we were moving through the crowds to get to her, three different people flitted up to her side, conferred with her for a moment, then disappeared.


    I leaned close to Olivia. ¡°What¡¯s she doing?¡±


    ¡°Oh, she probably volunteered to take over some of my mother¡¯s duties in yet another attempt to become her clone.¡±


    I was distracted by the commotion around me, so it was with notable thoughtlessness that I muttered, ¡°So she¡¯s helping?¡±


    I heard an angry tsk sound, and focused in on Olivia. The edge of her upper lip was twitching in a half-hearted sneer.


    My stomach sank.


    After what Rall had said, I started nurturing the hope that Nylah might be more open-minded than she had been before. But I knew that the chance was a slim one, and I had a sneaky suspicion that it would go from near-zero to zero in the time it took for Olivia to lose her temper.


    I drew myself up as I walked. ¡°Olivia Oliversen, you owe me.¡±


    Olivia and Jacky both stopped. I noticed a step later and turned back to see what had happened. Jacky¡¯s skull was inscrutable. Despite all common sense, I was getting used to seeing emotion in it, but this time, it looked like nothing but an inert bit of bone. Fortunately, Olivia¡¯s face had enough emotion to make up for it. Unfortunately, that emotion was made up of rage and indignation.


    It was Jacky who spoke. ¡°Emerra, you can¡¯t know what you¡¯re saying, so it¡¯s forgivable¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Olivia said. ¡°It¡¯s all right, Mr. Noctis. She¡¯s right. I asked her to come, and she came.¡± She glared at me. ¡°I admit my debt. What do you want from me?¡±


    Well, crap. I wanted her to listen to me, but she wasn¡¯t supposed to be all serious.


    But I knew she was listening. And I didn¡¯t want to waste my chance. I stepped close to her and looked right in her eyes. I saw them widen.


    ¡°I¡¯m asking you to give Nylah a chance,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s all. You don¡¯t have to like her¡ªjust go in there with nothing but your questions. Don¡¯t assume anything. Don¡¯t anticipate anything. Try not to be rude. Can you do that?¡±


    Olivia stared at me for an extra second, then scoffed and turned her head. ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯re asking? You really have no idea what you¡¯re saying, do you? You open that mouth of yours and stupid comes out.¡± She raised her eyes to meet mine. ¡°Fine. You¡¯ve asked, and I¡¯ve accepted it.¡±


    She stormed past me. Big Jacky came up to my side.


    ¡°What did I put my foot in this time?¡± I asked.


    He glanced down at my boots. ¡°Mud.¡±


    ¡°Jacky!¡±


    ¡°Oh. You meant that metaphorically.¡± He put his skeletal hand on my shoulder and turned me around so we could follow Olivia. ¡°Witches aren¡¯t an honor-based society, but they have a number of similarities to them. When a witch gives you her word, it¡¯s as good as a contract. And they care a great deal about the concept of debt.¡±


    I put a hand to my forehead. Of course they did.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it like that,¡± I grumbled. ¡°I just didn¡¯t want her sabotaging this with her attitude.¡±


    ¡°I know. It was a reasonable and wise request. Only your phraseology was regrettable.¡±


    ¡°My phraseology?¡±


    ¡°To tell a witch, to her face, that she ¡®owes you¡¯ is considered a savage slur and a shameful accusation if accurate. Witches will quietly remember those that owe them favors and call on them when needed, but it¡¯s considered impolite to remind a witch that she subjugated herself enough to ask for your help.¡±


    ¡°Subjugated,¡± I repeated in a flat tone. I caught myself rolling my eyes and wondered if it was proximity to witch culture that did it. ¡°If you ask me, they have an unhealthy obsession with independence.¡±


    ¡°If you ask me,¡± Big Jacky said, ¡°I would agree with you. But Iset has explained how their history led to their culture, so I try to be understanding.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s kind of you.¡±


    ¡°Is it?¡±


    ¡°Since you¡¯ve got that well in hand, I¡¯m going to be pissy and judgmental about it.¡±


    We worked our way through the crowd until we were within hailing distance of Nylah. Rather than call out to her, Olivia crossed the last few feet of open ground and tapped her shoulder.


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    I arrived beside them as Nylah turned around. Her expression¡¯s near-instant transformation from polite and friendly to cold and serious would¡¯ve been impressive if it hadn¡¯t been so tragic. Olivia¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change at all. She had walked up to her sister already looking like a funeral director confronting an inconvenient body-snatcher.


    But Olivia was true to her word. She didn¡¯t say anything rude. She didn¡¯t say anything at all.


    Nylah was forced to break the silence. ¡°Yes?¡±


    Oh, good. That was good! No insult! We might actually get somewhere.


    Olivia¡¯s jaw clenched for a moment, then she swallowed and said, ¡°Can I ask you some questions?¡±


    ¡°What about?¡±


    If I¡¯d had a seat, I would¡¯ve been on the edge of it. Could they get through a whole discussion without arguing? Was it possible?


    Come on, Olivia! You can do it!


    ¡°Are there any wards inside ARC Hall?¡± Olivia asked.


    Nylah¡¯s face changed again. The coldness switched to fear. She scanned the people around her, then took her sister by the arm and drew her closer. She leaned over and spoke in a hushed tone. ¡°Keep your voice down.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s eyes had widened when her sister took her arm. The only statement she could manage was an ¡°um.¡±


    Nylah folded her tablet¡¯s cover over the screen, turned back to her sister, and motioned for Olivia to follow her.


    Olivia glanced at me. I shrugged. We all followed.


    Nylah led us between two booths. Behind them, a small channel ran the length of the two out-facing rows. There was no one around. Nylah raised her hand and swirled it over her head. A curtain of blue light fell over all of us, making a bubble. The noise cut down by half.


    I tried not to stare at the magic, in case Nylah got it into her head to notice what I was doing. That didn¡¯t seem likely. She was too focused on her sister.


    ¡°Is this about that shopkeeper?¡± Nylah asked.


    ¡°His name is Nolan Kirby,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°Your friend?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    I thought I heard a hint of challenge in Olivia¡¯s voice, but most of it was caught behind her grit teeth. She was trying so hard¡ªbless her, I was getting choked up, just watching it.


    Nylah sighed through her nose and raised one hand to rub her forehead. ¡°Olivia, you¡¯re not supposed to ask questions like that.¡±


    ¡°About the wards? Why not?¡± Olivia demanded.


    ¡°Because you¡¯re not supposed to know enough to ask them. You¡¯re an apprentice.¡±


    ¡°How many wards are there in ARC Hall?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you that.¡±


    Olivia raised her voice. ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Olivia,¡± I said.


    She glanced at me, then looked away. I saw her chest rise and fall as she took a deep breath.


    She turned back to her sister. ¡°Is¡­is there anything that you can tell me? Please?¡±


    It really was a magic word. Nylah blinked, and her shoulders relaxed¡ªbut she kept her voice hard. I don¡¯t know. Maybe she had a reputation she had to protect. Heaven forbid her sister might think she was nice.


    ¡°I¡¯m allowed to tell you that there are active wards inside ARC Hall,¡± she said. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you how many there are because I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve only acted as a wardsman for two of them.¡±


    ¡°Do you know if there are more than two?¡± Jacky asked.


    Nylah¡¯s eyes darted over to him. She looked momentarily surprised, as if she¡¯d forgotten he was there. ¡°I know there are more than two, I don¡¯t know how many.¡±


    ¡°May I ask how you know?¡±


    ¡°I saw the roster once¡ªfor all the active wardsmen. There were too many for just two wards.¡±


    Jacky folded his arms. ¡°Interesting.¡±


    ¡°Do you know what areas the wards cover?¡± Olivia asked.


    ¡°Not all of them.¡± Nylah rubbed her eyes. ¡°Olivia, look. You don¡¯t get it yet. You can¡¯t get it.¡±


    When I saw Olivia scowl and open her mouth to say something, I politely, but firmly, grabbed her arm above her elbow and squeezed.


    She clamped her mouth shut.


    Nylah went on, oblivious, thanks to her closed eyes. ¡°They only tell you as much as you need to know. You go in there, and they expect you to obey your instructions and not ask any questions. What do I know? Not much. But I know there are places in the library that I¡¯ve never been, and that to get there, you have to have special permission from one of the two heads.¡±


    ¡°Who are they?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The head librarian or the head of the coven,¡± Nylah said.


    Jacky said, ¡°So if we asked you if someone had successfully broken past one of the inner wards and stole something, you wouldn¡¯t be able to tell us?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t break past those wards.¡±


    ¡°Humor me.¡±


    Nylah looked as if she had a witty and scathing retort jump into her mouth, but since she was talking to Jacky, it died on her tongue.


    ¡°No,¡± she said, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know. Depending on which part of the archives they were trying to break into, there might be only two or three people who would know.¡± Nylah said to Olivia, ¡°Mother is one of them.¡± She nodded toward coven headquarters. ¡°She¡¯s in there.¡±


    Nylah flicked her wrist, and the bubble of magic faded from the top down.


    ¡°Now,¡± she said, ¡°if you¡¯ll excuse me, I¡¯m afraid I have a lot of work to do. If you have any other questions, you¡¯ll have to come find me.¡±


    Nylah only made it two steps before Olivia called out to her.


    She turned back.


    ¡°Why are you willing to help me?¡± Olivia asked.


    It was Olivia¡¯s tone that mucked it all up. She sounded slightly confused and slightly sad. It was too honest.


    The fact that Olivia was confused by the idea that her sister would help her hit Nylah like a nail through the heart. I saw the instant of pain, and then the anger she used to spackle over the wound.


    Nylah spat out, with all the venom of a cobra, ¡°The sooner you find him, the sooner you go back to wherever you came from, right? Then I can get my perfect life back.¡±


    She left.


    I sighed.


    Jacky said, ¡°Olivia, I have only one witch living in my mansion. She maintains one ward.¡±


    Olivia wasn¡¯t ready for the abrupt switch in topic. She glanced up at Noctis, then her face fell back into a glower.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she said.


    ¡°Under what circumstances would it require more than one witch to maintain a single ward?¡±


    I blinked and turned to Jacky. Olivia¡¯s face cleared.


    ¡°What?¡± she said.


    ¡°Nylah said that she saw the roster which included a list of wardsmen. ¡®There were too many for just two wards,¡¯¡± Jacky said. ¡°I would¡¯ve thought that three would be too many for two wards, but I think I¡¯m misunderstanding something.¡±


    Olivia pulled a lock of her hair over her shoulder and played with the ends of it. When she spoke, her voice was musing and slow.


    ¡°If the witches maintaining it were weak, they might try to pool their power.¡±


    ¡°Would the coven use weak witches?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Olivia said, ¡°but if it¡¯s not that, then the only thing that makes sense is if keeping the ward up drained a lot of power. If it did, they¡¯d have to take the ward in shifts.¡±


    ¡°Does that mean the coven keeps those wards up twenty-four-seven?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what it sounds like.¡±


    Jacky said, ¡°Size and strength are the primary factors that determine how much power it takes to maintain a ward, correct?¡±


    Olivia nodded.


    ¡°Since they¡¯re no larger than a building,¡± Jacky murmured, ¡°we can assume they must be very strong.¡±


    ¡°No wonder Nylah was so sure that no one could get past them,¡± I said.


    Jacky hummed, then said, ¡°And on initial embarrassment, Olivia couldn¡¯t imagine how someone could be invisible without leaving any trace of magic.¡±


    ¡°What on earth?¡± My nose crinkled. ¡°What does ¡®on initial embarrassment¡¯ mean?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a phrase.¡± Jacky didn¡¯t sound too sure of himself. ¡°It means ¡®when you first encounter something.¡¯¡±


    Olivia said, ¡°Did you mean ¡®at first blush?¡¯¡±


    Jacky hurried on, ¡°The point is that Nylah¡¯s certainty that the wards are impenetrable can¡¯t be relied on. If we''re going to try to figure out what the thieves are up to, we need as much information as possible, so we need to know what, if anything, was stolen from ARC Hall, and only two or three people would have that knowledge.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s face went pale. ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°I think we have to talk to your mother.¡±


    ¡°She said nothing was stolen.¡±


    ¡°She may know better now.¡±


    ¡°She won¡¯t help.¡±


    ¡°You said the same thing about Nylah.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s face twitched, neck muscles clenched and unclenched, then her mouth jerked open. ¡°Fine!¡± she yelled. ¡°But I don¡¯t want you there, Mr. Noctis.¡±


    Jacky¡¯s shoe slid back a few inches. In all my second life, I¡¯d never seen Big Jacky take a step back from anything.


    ¡°But¡ª¡± Jacky started.


    ¡°Not you!¡±

 Chapter 36 - Olivia and Ellis

    The argument that followed that statement was brief but interesting. It consisted of Jacky trying to use all the reasoning at his disposal to point out that Olivia¡¯s request made no sense, and Olivia repeating, in one form or another, that if she was going to talk to her mother, then Jack Noctis was not going to be in the room.


    I stayed off to the side, happy to maintain my role as the impartial listener.


    That lasted right up until Jacky realized that pointing out a lack of logic to an illogical person wasn¡¯t going to accomplish anything. That¡¯s when he decided to drag me into the matter.


    ¡°Then you¡¯ll take Emerra.¡±


    ¡°Hey! Whoa!¡± I stumbled forward.


    Jacky didn¡¯t even pause. ¡°She has the advantage of not being me and not being you. The first you require, the second I recommend.¡±


    ¡°Um,¡± I said, ¡°I¡¯m not¡ª¡±


    But, apparently, I was only a topic in the discussion, not actually a part of it.


    Olivia said over me, ¡°I can talk to my mother on my own.¡±


    ¡°Then why haven¡¯t you done it before?¡± Jacky said.


    Boom! The cannon ball hit. Shrapnel scattered, various bits of ruined masonry dribbled to the ground, and slowly the smoke cleared. I was amazed to see that Olivia was still standing after a blow like that.


    She did sway on her feet a little.


    Jacky went on, ¡°You claim you have the capacity, but I¡¯ve seen no evidence. You¡¯ve had any number of times you could¡¯ve approached her, yet you haven¡¯t, despite the fact she would be the best source of information. I will not pretend to understand your reluctance¡ªyou¡¯ve barred me from that understanding¡ªbut neither will I allow you to pretend competence where there is none.¡±


    I grabbed onto his sleeve. ¡°Geez, Jacky. She¡¯s dead. You can stop now.¡±


    Jacky turned his skull to me, then looked back at Olivia. The tears she refused to shed made her eyes shine. She stood there, shaking, her fists clenched. It was hard to watch her.


    When Big Jacky spoke again, his voice was soft. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I seem to have hurt you. I didn¡¯t mean to.¡±


    She shook her head. There was no way to tell if she was rejecting his apology or denying that she needed it.


    Jacky reached out and took his apprentice gently by the arm.


    ¡°Olivia, I am your master, for whatever that relationship is worth. I recognize my incompetence in general, but on this matter, you will be advised by me. Take Emerra. There¡¯s a reason you brought her.¡± He let go of her arm, stepped back, and nodded to coven headquarters like Nylah had. ¡°Go on. I¡¯ll make sure my phone is turned on in case you need me.¡±


    Jack Noctis walked out between the booths and disappeared into the crowd.


    Olivia gulped and wiped furiously at her eyes. Then she took a deep breath, shook her shoulders, and stood up straight.


    ¡°Come on,¡± she growled at me.


    I sauntered along beside her with my hands in my pockets and my mouth firmly shut. I wanted her to know that I had every intention of respecting her efforts to hide her emotions. It was hard work, and she was doing an admirable job.


    When we were halfway to the building, Olivia snapped, ¡°Are you going to say anything?¡±


    ¡°Like, do you mean, right now?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Do you want me to?¡±


    She clutched the edge of her cape. Three steps later, she said, ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then I won¡¯t.¡± A few steps after that, I made myself a liar. ¡°Can I ask a question?¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you want Jacky to come? Were you afraid he was going to say something?¡±


    Olivia gave me one of her patented sardonic glares. It was so powerful that, without words, it was capable of communicating the eternal question: ¡°Are you stupid?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s my master,¡± she said.


    ¡°I know. I thought that¡¯s why you avoided arguing with him.¡±


    ¡°Would you want your master to see you being humiliated by your own mother?¡±


    Oof. The moment Olivia said it, I understood. The sudden insight felt like a boulder landing on my brain.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have to come if you don¡¯t want me to,¡± I said quietly. When Olivia turned to look at me, I went on, ¡°I can dodge out here. I don¡¯t have to go in.¡±


    Olivia faced forward again. I had enough time to wonder if she was going to ignore my question before she decided to answer.


    She let out a quiet tsk noise. ¡°Jacky really is a lousy master. He doesn¡¯t understand anything. I¡¯ve worked for him for a whole year, and all he¡¯s ever done is make requests.¡±


    We reached the front doors of coven headquarters. Olivia jerked one of them open.


    She said, ¡°Do you think I¡¯m going to disobey the first order he¡¯s ever given me?¡±


    We walked into the foyer and went over to the stairs without stopping by the front desk. No one stopped us. We climbed to the top floor. One or two people called out to Olivia, and she politely greeted them in return, but she never paused in her relentless march toward her mother¡¯s office.


    When we arrived, she immediately knocked on the door.


    I think that''s the primary difference between my courage (or what passes for my courage) and Olivia''s confidence. Whenever I have to force myself to do something scary, I have to work myself up to it, gathering courage as I go. Whenever Olivia has to do something she finds intimidating, she acts fast, never giving herself a second to question whether or not she can handle it.


    We heard Mrs. Oliversen¡¯s voice from behind the door. ¡°Come in.¡±


    Olivia opened the door. We went inside.


    Ellis was sitting behind her desk with a pile of papers beside her elbow and a laptop in front of her, but she wasn¡¯t looking at either of them. She was focused on something hidden behind her open laptop.


    As she raised her head, she removed her pair of tortoiseshell¡­reading glasses? Computer glasses?


    Whatever they were, they looked great on her, and when she took them off, she shook her head to settle her hair, and she was so gorgeous I could¡¯ve eaten myself with envy.


    ¡°Olivia. Miss Cole. This is a surprise.¡± She laid her glasses aside, shut the laptop, and started twisting her hands around the object she¡¯d been so focused on. ¡°Did Ansel need something else?¡± she asked.


    That twisting motion¡ªif I hadn¡¯t seen it recently, I never would¡¯ve guessed what was in her hands, but it was the same motion that Big Jacky had used to gather in the scroll after he¡¯d so dramatically sent it flying.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Olivia realized it at the same time I did.


    She nodded to her mother¡¯s hands. ¡°You¡¯re reading my scrolls?¡±


    Ellis paused. She resumed rolling up the scroll at the same time she said, ¡°One of them.¡±


    Olivia walked toward her mother¡¯s desk. I followed a few steps behind.


    ¡°Why?¡± Olivia asked.


    ¡°They¡¯re a part of the coven records. I¡¯m the head of the coven. Is there a reason I shouldn¡¯t?¡±


    Even standing a few feet to her side, I could see Olivia¡¯s slight frown and the way her shoulders tensed.


    ¡°I thought¡ª¡± she started to say.


    Ellis spoke over her: ¡°Did you need anything from me?¡± She laid the scroll on her desk beside her laptop.


    Olivia stared at the scroll for a second, then took a breath and looked up. ¡°I have a question for you.¡±


    ¡°Olivia, it¡¯s been a long morning, and I have a lot to do. Is this important?¡±


    I winced when I heard her say "important." Even as a near stranger, I knew that word had been weaponized by the two of them long ago. They lobbed it between each other like some long-fused grenade.


    Olivia frowned. ¡°It is to me.¡±


    Ellis gestured with an open hand to her daughter. ¡°Ask.¡±


    ¡°Did you ever find out if something was stolen from ARC Hall?¡±


    Ellis Oliversen paled, and her eyes widened. She stood up from her chair, shifted her laptop, and moved the scroll to the side. I couldn¡¯t tell if there was any purpose behind this sudden urge to rearrange her desk. When she spoke, her voice sounded stiff.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to answer that question, Olivia. I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m busy, so I¡¯m going to have to ask you to leave.¡±


    Were her hands shaking? What could possibly frighten Ellis Oliversen?


    ¡°Why won¡¯t you answer me?¡± Olivia demanded.


    Ellis slammed the stack of papers she¡¯d picked up back onto the desk. The dull clap of the paper hitting the wood faded into a short silence.


    She kept her head bowed. ¡°How did you break in here without leaving a trace?¡±


    ¡°We didn¡¯t break in,¡± Olivia said. ¡°We already told you that¡ª¡±


    Ellis glared at her daughter. ¡°If you won¡¯t answer my question, then I see no reason I should answer yours.¡±


    When she raised her head, I saw her face and, behind it, I saw what she¡¯d been hiding.


    I saw the terrible suspicion. The confusion. Dark and nebulous. They¡¯d been building up like storm clouds until the porcelain mask that Ellis wore like a second skin creaked from the strain of holding them back.


    And it all made sense!¡ªwhy all the questions about how we¡¯d broken in to coven headquarters; why Ellis had demanded to know where Olivia had been when the blessed silver had been stolen; why she¡¯d poured her magic over her daughter, searching for something; why she¡¯d been reading Olivia¡¯s scroll.


    Something was happening in town, and Ellis Oliversen was scared that Olivia had something to do with it.


    Olivia¡¯s cheeks flushed. She took a step toward her mother.


    ¡°Olivia,¡± I said.


    She stopped and scowled at me.


    ¡°You have to tell her what¡¯s going on,¡± I said.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    I looked in her eyes. My voice was low and serious. ¡°Olivia Oliversen, tell her.¡±


    A moment later, Olivia turned back to her mother. The red had faded from her cheeks, but she kept her gaze fixed on the edge of the desk as she talked.


    Ellis had straightened up when my voice had been hijacked by whatever wandering ghost had decided they could give me exactly the right timbre of authority to get Olivia to listen. She crossed her arms when Olivia started into her story. At first her eyes were narrow, but they relaxed the more she heard.


    Barring Big Jacky¡¯s involvement in getting us into coven headquarters, Olivia told her mother everything. What had happened, the few facts we had, all our suppositions. Ellis never interrupted¡ªnot even to ask a question¡ªand to her credit, she barely blinked when Olivia mentioned the possibility of an invisible naked guy running around her town.


    Olivia ended with, ¡°that¡¯s why I asked about ARC Hall.¡±


    There was a brief silence.


    Ellis said, ¡°You think the people who kidnapped Kirby are the ones who broke into the Barlowes¡¯, and the hardware store¡ª¡±


    ¡°And everywhere else,¡± Olivia said. ¡°We think it¡¯s possible.


    ¡°We think they¡¯re gathering materials to build something,¡± I said.


    ¡°To do what?¡± Ellis asked.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know,¡± Olivia said. ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re trying to figure out.¡± The patience in her voice was waning. ¡°Mother, we know that they probably got into ARC Hall, but we don¡¯t know how far they got. If you know something¡¯s missing, then we can add it to our list and try to figure out what they¡¯re up to.¡±


    Ellis was staring at her desk, but I don¡¯t think she was seeing anything. There was something in her expression. I could almost see it¡­


    ¡°Mother!¡±


    Ellis raised her eyes. ¡°Nothing is missing from ARC Hall.¡±


    Olivia blinked. ¡°Nothing?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    She was telling the truth. There was no doubt in my mind.


    There was, however, plenty of doubt in Olivia¡¯s.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± she said. ¡°It could be really small and unimportant. Betty Hamlin¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure, Olivia. Nothing is missing from ARC Hall.¡±


    ¡°But they were inside, right?¡±


    ¡°This discussion is over.¡± Ellis picked up her messenger bag from beside her desk and started packing away the papers and the laptop.


    ¡°Over? Why? What did I¡ªwhy?¡± Olivia raised her voice. ¡°You can¡¯t even tell me if they made it inside?¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t your concern.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s voice went up another notch. ¡°You know it¡¯s my concern! I¡¯ve told you what¡¯s going on!¡±


    Ellis closed her messenger bag. ¡°Yelling at me won¡¯t help.¡±


    ¡°Nothing helps! Nothing ever helps! All you ever do is stand in my way and try to shut me down!¡±


    I didn¡¯t bother trying to intervene. This wasn¡¯t about Kirby anymore. This was years of resentment being hauled out for an airing, and the two of them were so intent on each other I was pretty sure I could¡¯ve started tap dancing and neither of them would¡¯ve noticed.


    Ellis¡¯s body went rigid. ¡°That¡¯s not true!¡±


    ¡°Name it! Name one time you haven¡¯t tried to stand in my way or make my life a living hell! School! Mr. Noctis¡ª¡±


    ¡°I let you stay in the dorms! Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? The way people looked at me. The rumors I had to deal with¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh! I¡¯m so sorry it humiliated you, Mother! I thought for sure you¡¯d be happy to get rid of me!¡±


    The blood drained from Ellis¡¯s face, and her hands tightened over her messenger bag. Olivia was too enraged to see she¡¯d struck a nerve.


    She went on, ¡°So stupid of me to forget that your reputation is the only thing you care about.¡±


    If the last comment had struck a nerve, this one stripped it down and plunged it into arctic waters. Ellis¡¯s hands were shaking again¡ªmuch harder.


    Her jaw clenched. She picked up her messenger bag, grabbed the scroll, and walked over to the coat rack by the door. She put the bag down long enough to put on her coat and jam the scroll in her pocket. She tried to tie the belt, but she was trembling too much to manage it. She threw the belt ends back with an impatient gesture and put her messenger bag over her shoulder.


    When she spoke, her voice was hard, but she wasn¡¯t shouting. ¡°I¡¯m leaving. You¡¯re welcome to finish your tantrum in here, but I expect you to compose yourself before you come out. Please remember to lock the door when you¡¯re done.¡±


    With that, she was gone.


    As the door clicked shut behind her, I wondered where queens went when they needed to cry.


    Olivia rounded on me. ¡°What did you see?¡±


    Being the brave soul that I am, I backed up two paces. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°I saw the look on your face. I know you saw something. What did you see?¡±


    Well, crap. I¡¯d have to start practicing my stoic expression in the mirror each morning. Thirty reps of deadpan mode.


    ¡°Emerra!¡± Olivia cried.


    I sighed. Yes, I had seen something. I¡¯d seen a lot of somethings. Sucks for Olivia, she couldn¡¯t specify which something.


    I took a breath before I began.


    ¡°I saw your mother lie to a policeman when you were in trouble. I saw her worrying about your future, and I saw her heart break when you told her that you were sure she¡¯d be happy to get rid of you.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s eyes instantly narrowed into slits. ¡°What?¡±


    Okay. Let¡¯s try again.


    I spoke slower: ¡°I saw your mother lie to a policeman¡ª¡±


    Olivia¡¯s voice rose. ¡°What are you trying to say?¡±


    I pressed my lips together as my heart sank with disappointment. If she couldn¡¯t figure it out, then she was being willfully stupid, and me saying it to her face wouldn¡¯t convince her of anything.


    My lack of response didn''t stop Olivia from finding a way to argue. ¡°You also saw her cut off the conversation and refuse to tell me anything!¡±


    ¡°She told you nothing was missing from ARC Hall.¡±


    ¡°And you believed her?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    That wandering ghost must have been doing its thing again; Olivia had been leaning forward, eager for a fight, but when she heard my answer, she dropped back to her heels.


    I knew her well enough to know she was down, but not out. I waited.


    Sure enough, less than a second later, she was up and at me again.


    ¡°I did what you told me to! She knows why I asked, and she still refused to tell me any more than that¡ª¡±


    I had a feeling that, given the chance, Olivia could probably go on for a while, so I interrupted her.


    ¡°Olivia.¡±


    Her mouth clamped shut.


    I crossed my arms. ¡°Even during your tell-all confession, you never told her about Jacky helping us get into this building.¡±


    ¡°Of course not!¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a secret!¡±


    ¡°Even to rescue Kirby, you refused to tell her that secret?¡±


    Olivia sputtered, ¡°Not¡ªno. That¡¯s not¡ªLook, her knowing probably wouldn¡¯t make a difference. And¡­I can¡¯t. I can¡¯t give up that secret. It¡¯s too important.¡±


    ¡°If you, a seventeen-year-old apprentice, can have a secret that important, isn¡¯t it reasonable for someone like Ellis Oliversen to have a few? Remember what Nylah said? Remember how she behaved? ARC Hall has more secrets than the CIA.¡±


    ¡°Hers aren¡¯t important!¡±


    I raised my hands in a (hopefully) placating manner. ¡°All right. Sure. Maybe that¡¯s true. When you have too many secrets, it¡¯s easy to lose sight of which ones really matter. But whether we think they¡¯re important or not¡ªyour mother does.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s temper seemed to be burning itself out. Her body unclenched, and her scowl turned into a frown. ¡°Then what are we supposed to do?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s take the information she gave us¡ª¡±


    ¡°You mean the nothing she gave us?¡±


    Oh! I was wrong. There was at least one last good flare in those coals.


    How long had I had a headache? It must have snuck in. Odd that I only noticed it at that moment.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said. ¡°The fact that nothing is missing from ARC Hall. Either the burglars failed, or what they stole was so small and unimportant, we don¡¯t know what it was. We¡¯ll take that information, along with the rest of our list, and go find someone who can help us figure out what the thieves might be building.¡±

 chapter 37 - Pop Quiz

    I hauled out my phone the minute we were outside, but Olivia demanded to know what I was doing.


    ¡°I¡¯m calling Jacky.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather you didn¡¯t.¡±


    With my finger still hovering over the call button, I glanced at Olivia. The edges of her mouth were pulled back in a grumpy frown.


    ¡°Is there a reason why?¡± I probed.


    She made another angry tssk sound¡ªno doubt frustrated beyond measure that she¡¯d have to explain things to me using English. Maybe someday my magical eyeballs would be so reliable and effective no one would have to explain anything to me ever again. But I doubted it. And it sure as heck wasn¡¯t going to be that day.


    I countered with a raised eyebrow.


    She blurted out, ¡°I just¡ªI don¡¯t¡­I need a break, okay?¡±


    ¡°You need a break from Big Jacky?¡±


    Her frown deepened. A second later, she said, ¡°It¡¯s been a bad morning. We never got breakfast, and I¡¯ve been in¡ªwhat? Three arguments?¡±


    ¡°Is that unusual for you?¡±


    Olivia glared at me. ¡°Yes!¡±


    I raised both hands and both shoulders in a combination surrender and shrug. ¡°Sorry, but to me you seem a bit¡­combative.¡±


    Her mouth opened, she shut it and shifted her glare to the sidewalk. We started off toward the park.


    While putting my phone in my pocket, I said, ¡°I don¡¯t know if you should call our talk with Nylah an argument. I thought, for the most part, it was a very civil discussion.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Olivia grumbled. ¡°Right up until she yelled at me at the end.¡±


    Some persnickety part of my soul¡ªmy inner Darius, if you will¡ªnoted that Nylah hadn¡¯t actually raised her voice. The rest of me told that one part to be quiet, because we all knew that when someone spoke with that much fury, it felt exactly like being yelled at.


    My heart ached. I wanted to say something to make Olivia feel better, but I knew that I didn¡¯t have the power to reach in and heal relationship scars that ran that deep. It¡¯d probably only make her angry if I tried. And I didn¡¯t want her to snap at me.


    Most of the frustration that morning hadn¡¯t been directed toward me, but¡ªas Olivia had said¡ªit¡¯d been a bad morning, and my shoulders (if not my soul) always curled up whenever someone around me was mad.


    Come to think of it, I could use a break too.


    ¡°Do you have any money or a card or something?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yeah. Why?¡±


    ¡°Ashworth told me about a coffee shop the other day. Do you want to go drink some caffeinated dessert? Your treat.¡±


    Olivia scoffed, but the edge of her lip quirked up in a smile. ¡°Really subtle, Emerra.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± I put my hand to my chest. ¡°On my honor, I¡¯d offer to cover you, but I left my empty wallet back at the house.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh. Do you know which coffee shop he was talking about?¡±


    I grinned. ¡°Thank you, Miss Oliversen. And if I ever get any money, I promise I¡¯ll pay you back.¡±


    Once I figured out where the front of ARC Hall was, I could point vaguely in the direction that Ashworth had indicated. That was all Olivia needed to figure out which coffee shop he¡¯d meant. I was surprised until she pointed out that Craftborough only had two coffee shops.


    During the walk, neither of us felt the need to talk. I figured it was part of the much-needed break we both wanted. Instead, I let my mind nibble around the edges of the case, hoping for a miraculous epiphany¡ªwhich was a lot to expect from my brain before it¡¯d had any breakfast.


    The coffee shop was larger and trendier than I thought it would be. It must have fallen victim to the bizarre vortex that seemed to suck in and collect all the city coffee shops, turning them into weird clones of each other, causing them to shift styles at almost the same time. And, like all those other coffee shops, it was full of people.


    We could thank the festival for that. Every booth and chair was taken. There was a line to place our orders, but it was, thankfully, a short one. Apparently, everyone else had shared my bright idea of getting breakfast from the coffee shop, only they''d thought of it ten minutes earlier.


    When we got to the front of the line, Olivia¡ªwho was swiftly earning my loyalty, if not my affection¡ªnot only bought me the junkiest, sugared-up coffee the place offered, but she also ordered me an egg sandwich. I asked if I could kiss her. She swore at me.


    Since there was no place to sit, we waited by the counter for our order. Despite the fact we were less than two feet away, the barista insisted on calling our names in her loudest voice.


    I blame her for what happened next.


    We grabbed our orders and were about to leave but¡ªlow and behold!¡ªOwen Ashworth, who¡¯d been sitting in the back corner of the cafe, safely hidden by the crowd, stood up and called out to us.


    ¡°Miss Oliversen, Miss Cole, good morning!¡±


    Olivia and I both came to a halt as the whole coffee shop paused what they were doing to watch us. Some of them turned in their seats to get a better view. Owen Ashworth had that effect on people. So did the name Oliversen, and, thanks to Olivia''s bright red hair, people knew immediately which one of us that was.


    Which was why it felt so unfair to me when I noticed how many glances were still aimed at me.


    Oh. Right. The baldness.


    Only Conrad Bauer walking in the shop at that exact moment would¡¯ve distracted the crowd from their gawking.


    Since Ashworth was walking over to us, Olivia and I met him halfway.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± Olivia said.


    I was happy to let her be the calmer, more articulate face of our duo. She was bred for the part.


    Ashworth glanced at our full hands. ¡°Forgive me if I¡¯m interrupting breakfast. I heard your names and wanted to say hello.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a problem,¡± Olivia assured him.


    Ashworth hooked his thumbs into his pants pockets, oozing out a gallon of cool in the process. ¡°Are you here for the street fair?¡±


    ¡°At the moment, we¡¯re looking for a place to sit¡ª¡±


    The words had barely cleared Olivia¡¯s lips before Ashworth took a step back and motioned to the corner of the shop. ¡°Would you like to come join us? Dr. Misserly and I got here early, so we were able to claim one of the larger booths.¡±


    I stared at the back of Olivia¡¯s head in the desperate hope that the Eyes of the Sphinx included a heretofore unknown telepathic ability, and I could brand my thoughts into her skull.


    Make up an excuse!


    No such luck.


    ¡°Are you sure we wouldn¡¯t be imposing?¡± Olivia asked.


    Ashworth smiled at her, and I saw a faint pink color rise in her cheeks.


    ¡°We¡¯d be delighted to have you,¡± he said.


    As we walked over to the booth I tried to look on the bright side. There was a possibility that if I spent enough time with Owen Ashworth, I might stop turning into a gibbering idiot every time I saw him. Then all the energy I wasted trying not to stammer could be used to help me avoid his questions.


    Cameron Misserly smiled when he saw us coming and scooted over without having to be asked. He wasn¡¯t wearing a suit, but he managed to make his T-shirt, jacket, and slacks look rumpled. It had to be some kind of talent. His smile and rumpled nature made me feel welcome, so I claimed the seat next to him. Olivia could sit next to Ashworth.


    I took off my coat while sitting down. Olivia remained standing as she took off her cape and found a place for her witch¡¯s hat. Ashworth didn¡¯t even wait for her to finish before drawing us into the conversation.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here,¡± he said. ¡°Misserly and I were continuing our conversation from last night. Now, you have to tell us, Miss Oliversen, how do you know so much about runes? Without exception, you¡¯re the most knowledgeable witch I¡¯ve ever met when it comes to the topic.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s hesitation wouldn¡¯t have registered on an Olympic stopwatch. The only reason I noticed it was because I had a feeling it was coming. By the time she slid into the booth next to Ashworth, her manner was casual.


    ¡°I use them as part of my magic,¡± she said.


    Both of Ashworth¡¯s eyebrows rose. Misserly¡¯s eyes widened, and he leaned back. I relaxed into my seat and unwrapped my sandwich. Sure. They were surprised. Good for them. The magicians could talk shop, and I could eat.


    Part of Ashworth¡¯s specialty centered around runes, so he and Olivia had a lot to talk about. The conversation wandered from their general use to how Misserly was able to create the same effect without them¡ªand you can bet Olivia had a ton of questions for him. I tried to follow along, but it didn''t take much time for me to get lost in the mist of technical jargon.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    We¡¯d finished our sandwiches and were sipping at our rapidly cooling coffees, when Misserly asked Olivia, ¡°But what do you do when you need to store magic?¡±


    Olivia smiled at him. ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±


    I smiled too when I saw a faint red creep into Misserly¡¯s cheeks. He rubbed his forehead with the back of his thumb.


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s right,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re a witch. Forgive me.¡±


    Ashworth said to Olivia, ¡°You never store magic?¡±


    ¡°Only in spells,¡± she said. ¡°Otherwise I haven¡¯t had to.¡±


    The alchemist and the sorcerer looked at each other with mutual sympathy.


    ¡°Oh, to be one of the lucky,¡± Ashworth said with a sigh.


    ¡°How do you store magic?¡± I asked.


    When his eyes moved over to me, I mentally cursed myself. The food had done a good job of keeping my mouth busy, but now it was free to cause trouble, and it¡¯d already forgotten my orders to remain silent.


    Ashworth smiled. I was relieved to find my heart rate only accelerated a little bit. Maybe the exposure therapy was working.


    ¡°I use my sigils and diagrams to contain it in the nil.¡± He turned to Misserly. ¡°What about you, Doctor?¡±


    Misserly hummed. ¡°If we¡¯re talking about long-term, I favor some kind of metal. Iron, usually. Or some kind of iron alloy.¡±


    ¡°Not blessed silver?¡± I asked.


    Misserly and Ashworth looked amused.


    ¡°No,¡± Misserly said. ¡°That would be ridiculously expensive, and silver has properties that make it too useful to be wasted as a battery.¡±


    When Olivia and I looked at each other, I could see the slight tension hiding in her eyes, and I knew she saw it in mine.


    With an extra dose of nonchalance, I put my coffee down on the table. ¡°Do all magicians use blessed silver?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Ashworth said. ¡°Although we all use it differently.¡±


    ¡°How do you use it?¡±


    ¡°Primarily as a weight to help balance a spell. Every once in a while, we¡¯ll use it to receive an enchantment¡ªbut that¡¯s rare.¡±


    ¡°Why so rare?¡±


    Olivia said, ¡°Because the properties of silver make it hard to enchant. It¡±¡ªshe hesitated, trying to find the right words¡ª¡°sheds magic. It slides right off it.¡±


    Ashworth took over: ¡°Which makes it a beast to work the magic into it, but if you can manage it, then you have a tool that works faster than any other with very little loss of power.¡±


    I looked at Misserly. ¡°How do you use it?¡±


    ¡°I primarily use its slickness property¡ªif that¡¯s what we¡¯re calling it,¡± he said. ¡°It can act as a channel, a connection, a parer¡ª¡±


    ¡°So if I handed you a chunk of blessed silver, you couldn¡¯t tell me how someone would use it?¡±


    The doctor¡¯s smile twitched onto his face. ¡°I could certainly tell you what I¡¯d use it for¡ªwhich is roughly a million things.¡±


    I frowned. It was no good asking about the silver. Jacky was right; there were too many uses for it. Thankfully, we had a few other things we could investigate.


    I slapped my fingers on the edge of the table. ¡°All right, gentlemen, pop quiz time!¡±


    My announcement had been nice and loud, meant to catch the attention of any self-confident or highly educated males within a one-booth radius. Ashworth tilted his head, and the edge of his lips rose. Misserly¡¯s smile expanded.


    I¡¯d always found it wise to lead with a compliment. I said, ¡°You two seem very knowledgeable.¡±


    Ashworth crossed one arm over his chest and raised his other hand to his face. His eyes sparkled as he watched me.


    I went on, ¡°How about I give you a list of items, and you tell me how they could be used¡ªmagically speaking.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Miss Cole,¡± Misserly said, still grinning. ¡°I always hated quizzes in school, and I haven¡¯t been in school for years.¡±


    Ashworth added, ¡°You noticed she said we only seemed knowledgeable.¡±


    ¡°I did notice that,¡± Misserly said.


    I flipped my hands over in a shrug, and arranged my face to show both sympathy and resignation¡ªdisplaying an attitude of I¡¯m-sorry-but-there-you-have-it.


    Ashworth moved the hand from his face and let it fall to the table. ¡°And what do we get if we pass this pop quiz of yours?¡±


    Ah. Yes. That was problematic. It wasn¡¯t like I could offer to buy them coffee. I¡¯d hoped their egos would provide the motivation.


    But Ashworth¡¯s eyes had changed from sparkling to glinting. I had to think of something fast, before he proposed something ludicrous and horrifying¡ªlike a fair exchange of information.


    ¡°I¡¯ll retract the ¡®seems,¡¯¡± I said.


    ¡°All right, I¡¯m in,¡± Misserly said. ¡°What about you, Ashworth?¡±


    ¡°I suppose it¡¯s better than a rumor going around that I¡¯m a sham. Let¡¯s have this list of yours, Miss Cole.¡±


    I said to Olivia, ¡°Can I borrow your notepad and pen?¡±


    The notepad and compact pen went with her everywhere. She wrote her runes on them when she had to cast an impromptu spell.


    Olivia pulled them out of her dress pocket while saying, ¡°One moment.¡±


    She opened the pad and carelessly dashed off a line of writing, as if she was testing the pen. Then she closed the pad and passed both of them over to me. When I opened the pad, written at the top was Don¡¯t mention ARC Hall.


    I tore off the page, stuffed it in my pocket, and started writing. When I was done, I dropped the notepad on the table, pushed it toward the center, and returned the pen to Olivia.


    Ashworth turned the notepad sideways so that he and Misserly could read it. It wasn¡¯t more than a second before they were frowning.


    Ashworth¡¯s eyebrows pulled together. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the list,¡± I said.


    ¡°But where did you get it?¡±


    I raised a finger and ticked it back and forth. ¡°Ah-uh! No hints.¡±


    ¡°Plant, unknown¡ªhardware store, unknown,¡± he looked up. ¡°Miss Cole, this is hardly fair!¡±


    ¡°Are pop quizzes ever fair?¡± I asked.


    That might have satisfied Misserly, who, having spent so much time in academia, must have been intimately aware of its many injustices, but the torrman wasn¡¯t having it.


    ¡°This is more unfair than most,¡± Ashworth said.


    I tried out my encouraging voice. ¡°Come on, guys! It¡¯s only four items.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s two items and two intimations. How are we supposed to tell you the magical properties of an unknown object?¡±


    ¡°Have you ever gone into a hardware store to do some magical shopping?¡±


    The torrman hesitated. ¡°Well, yes. I have.¡±


    ¡°What did you buy there?¡±


    ¡°Tools for helping me draw my diagrams¡ªchalk, plumb line, carpenter¡¯s squares, rulers. I bought my beam compass somewhere else, but you could probably find one there.¡±


    ¡°What the heck is a beam compass?¡±


    He smirked. ¡°It¡¯s a drawing tool. One that helps you draw circles.¡±


    My cheeks flushed. Good thing I hadn¡¯t mentioned the north-pointing laser I¡¯d been envisioning; Ashworth was enjoying my ignorance enough as it was.


    I turned. ¡°What about you, Misserly?¡±


    The alchemist was still frowning at the list. When he heard his name, he leaned back and crossed his arms.


    ¡°You¡¯re asking about the hardware store?¡± he said.


    I nodded.


    ¡°Depending on the project, sometimes I think I live there.¡±


    Olivia sat up. ¡°Can you explain that a little?¡±


    Misserly said, ¡°There are all kinds of things at a hardware store that could be useful to an alchemist. Wire, tubes, glue¡ªyou have to remember, we¡¯re building things all the time. Any alchemist that¡¯s dabbled in mekhanos magic knows how to solder. Most of us know how to weld, and all of us have to know at least the basics of electricity. We work with glass, acrylic, metal, rubber¡­¡± He shrugged.


    I said, ¡°How many of those tools are for the actual magic?¡±


    Misserly tilted his head. ¡°All of them?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡ª¡± I let out a grunt. How could I explain? I motioned with both hands¡ªbecause we all know that blathering makes more sense if accompanied by meaningless gestures. ¡°If I build a music box, there¡¯s the music¡ªthat¡¯s the result¡ªthere¡¯s the bumpy cylinder that turns, there¡¯s the little plinky bits of metal that make the notes, there¡¯s the gears and the spring, and even the crank¡ªand you need all of those to make the music.¡±


    The doctor¡¯s eyes had narrowed as he listened to my rambling. ¡°I follow you. Go on.¡±


    ¡°But there¡¯s also a box, and it has nothing to do with the music.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I understand.¡± Misserly relaxed. ¡°To use your metaphor, only a few pieces of a device ever interact directly with the power to produce the result¡ªthat would be your bumpy cylinder and the comb¡ªthe ¡®plinky bits of metal.¡¯¡±


    Right. A comb. That made sense.


    He went on, ¡°A large portion of the device is made up of components that act like the spring and the gears. They¡¯re necessary for the device to work, even if they don¡¯t interact directly with the magic. Very few components are like the box. We avoid using frames. Every component affects the device, so we try to put in as few extraneous items as possible.¡±


    ¡°Is there any way to tell, at a glance, what role a component might play?¡± Olivia asked.


    ¡°Easily,¡± Misserly said.


    ¡°Even if the device was all busted up and spread across a table?¡± I said.


    ¡°That would make it harder,¡± Misserly said. ¡°But if it was an alchemical device, I could make a good guess. An object¡¯s shape matters, so their magical signature is almost always in line with their mundane use¡ª¡±


    I held up my hand. ¡°Sorry. Dumb it down. What does that mean?¡±


    Ashworth said, ¡°He means that how a mundane would use the object is often related to how a magician would use it.¡± He tapped the notepad. ¡°Take this five-gallon glass jug, for instance. A mundane would use it to store something. A magician would use it to store magic.¡±


    I turned back to Misserly. ¡°I thought you said you used metal for storage.¡±


    ¡°The jug would be for short-term storage,¡± Misserly said. ¡°It¡¯s a place to hold the magic while it¡¯s being shaped or transferred.¡±


    ¡°What about the needle?¡± Olivia asked.


    Misserly thought for a moment, then shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t know. The shape seems to indicate that it¡¯d be used to jab, but I¡¯ve never used them in a project and I can¡¯t imagine why someone would want that effect in a device. What about you Ashworth?¡±


    The torrman shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of someone using a needle in their spellwork. I suppose if they needed blood, it¡¯s a less barbaric way to get some than using a knife.¡±


    Misserly shook his finger at Ashworth. ¡°That. I didn¡¯t think of that.¡±


    ¡°Spellwork uses blood?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Sometimes. More often with witchcraft.¡±


    We turned to Olivia. She was glaring at the table, her lips pressed so tight together, they were nothing more than a thin pink line.


    ¡°Olivia?¡± I said.


    She looked up at me. ¡°Sorry?¡±


    ¡°We were wondering about the needle. Could it be used to get blood for a witchcraft spell?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but most witches avoid the spells that call for blood.¡± Olivia pushed the list closer to the two men. ¡°What about the plant?¡±


    Ashworth and Misserly looked down at the paper again.


    ¡°Are we assuming that all these items are going into the same project?¡± Ashworth asked.


    I glanced at Olivia. Were we? I mean, I had assumed that, but something about the sorcerer¡¯s question made me hesitate.


    ¡°Is there a reason we wouldn¡¯t?¡± I asked.


    Owen Ashworth peered at me, silently, for a full second. I would¡¯ve paid good money¡ªor, at least, written a really big IOU¡ªto have seen even a smidge of what he was thinking or feeling.


    Sadly, all I could see was the handsome.


    Stupid eyeballs.


    Ashworth leaned back and said, ¡°The plant seems out of place. All the rest of this list is made up of simple inanimate materials, but plant matter is alive.¡±


    ¡°And that changes its properties?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It does,¡± Olivia said.


    Misserly tapped his finger on the table. ¡°You¡¯re forgetting the blood. I don¡¯t know how they¡¯re classified in your college, but blood and plants are both bios.¡±


    Ashworth hummed. ¡°That¡¯s true.¡± He looked at me. ¡°And you can¡¯t tell us which plant it is?¡±


    ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Then that¡¯s the end of my contributions. The jug would probably be used for storage. Everything else?¡± He raised his hands in a shrug.


    Misserly nodded his agreement, then pushed the notepad my way.


    Ashworth smiled at me. ¡°What do you say, Miss Cole? Is one out of four good enough to pass?¡±


    I tore off the paper and passed the notepad to Olivia. ¡°You both know a thousand times more than I do. I retract the ¡®seems.¡¯¡±


    Then I pulled a trick I thought I''d never, ever use, not in a million years. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, frowned at it, said ¡®excuse me,¡¯ then stood up from the table and walked away while pretending to take a call.


    I went far enough that none of my table-mates could overhear my fake conversation, but I kept an eye on Olivia. If she dove into some kind of conversation with the two men, I¡¯d have to abandon my plot, but she seemed minimally involved.


    I fake hung-up and wandered back to the table.


    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m afraid Olivia and I have to go.¡±


    Olivia blinked, but rose to her feet, cape in hand, and retrieved her hat.


    As I picked up my coat, Ashworth said, ¡°So soon?¡±


    I tried to sound tragic. ¡°I¡¯m afraid so.¡±


    Misserly slid toward the end of the booth. ¡°It¡¯s all right. I should be getting back to work.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re still working?¡± Ashworth asked.


    ¡°Always,¡± the alchemist admitted.


    ¡°Thank you for letting us join you,¡± I said.


    Ashworth¡¯s voice was friendly. ¡°Of course.¡± Then he looked in my eyes. ¡°And someday you¡¯ll tell me what all this was about, Miss Cole.¡±


    My heart had gone on a brief hiatus when our eyes locked. When it resumed working, the first beat felt like a kettle-ball slamming into my chest.


    I looked away, then forced a shaky smile to my lips and hummed to acknowledge he¡¯d spoken.


    ¡°Ready?¡± Olivia asked.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    As we walked through the coffee shop, I had to balance my pace between wanting to appear casual and wanting to get the heck out of there.


    After the doors fell shut behind us, Olivia said under her breath, ¡°Who called?¡±


    ¡°No one.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Did it look realistic to you?¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Oh, good.¡±

 Chapter 38 - Quite a Performance

    When we were further away from the coffee shop, I explained to Olivia, in much clearer terms, that I had faked the phone call. I knew the moment she understood me; her eyes narrowed into slits.


    ¡°Why did you want to get out of there so fast?¡± she demanded.


    I squirmed as I walked. It isn''t always easy to pull off a good ambulatory squirm¡ªbut other times it comes as natural as breathing. ¡°It¡¯s hard to explain.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t see anything?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then¡ª¡±


    I interrupted her: ¡°So, Ashworth¡­¡± My voice trailed off. I¡¯d been so eager going into the sentence, but for some reason, my cheeks went red and all the words dried up.


    ¡°What about him?¡± Olivia asked.


    There was a faint smile hiding at the edge of her lips. It took me a second to process what it could possibly mean. Then it hit me.


    Oh, geez.


    ¡°Olivia,¡± I said in the most serious voice I could muster, ¡°I do not have a crush on Owen Ashworth.¡±


    The smile knew it¡¯d been caught, so it stopped trying to hide. ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then what is it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to keep my eyes a secret. He knows I have a secret, and he¡¯s dedicated an uncomfortable amount of his charm into worming the information out of me.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°By being all nice at me.¡± I shivered from head to toe.


    ¡°Having handsome men be nice to you makes you uncomfortable?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡­Wait. No. That¡¯s not¡ªit¡¯s not about that. Mostly.¡±


    ¡°Then what is it about?¡±


    ¡°Look, can we both agree that, even at the best of times, I¡¯m an idiot when it comes to speaking?¡±


    Olivia, the ever supportive, said, ¡°No argument here.¡±


    ¡°Ashworth makes me feel all blathery and muddle-headed, which makes me even dumber than normal when it comes to speaking, which is not the best state to be in when attempting to keep a secret.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    We walked on in silence. The booths at the edge of the street fair came into view, and the noise of the crowd grew as we approached.


    Out of the blue, Olivia said, ¡°You did fine.¡±


    I blinked. Her tone had been clipped and casual¡ªthe one she uses whenever her mood is neutral¡ªbut my brain had to sort through the words an extra time to make sure it had understood them correctly. Findings were inconclusive.


    ¡°Huh?¡± I said.


    ¡°With that challenge and everything,¡± she said. ¡°You sounded natural, and it got the job done.¡± She shrugged. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have thought of something like that.¡±


    I stopped. Two steps later, Olivia turned to look back at me.


    ¡°Olivia Oliversen,¡± I said, ¡°are you complimenting me?¡±


    She rolled her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m telling you that you weren¡¯t any more idiotic than normal, and you¡¯re a high-functioning idiot.¡±


    I grinned and ran the two steps to catch up with her. ¡°Well, that was almost nice of you to say so.¡±


    We continued on.


    ¡°Olivia,¡± I said, ¡°why didn¡¯t you want me to mention ARC Hall?¡±


    This time her shrug lifted only one shoulder at a time. There was a slight frown on her face. ¡°It would¡¯ve been just another unknown object.¡±


    The squirmy nature of the shrug clued me in. Having so recently enjoyed a squirm myself, I knew it meant she was uncomfortable. By that time, I thought I had a pretty good idea about the kind of things that made Olivia uncomfortable.


    ¡°It¡¯s your mom, isn¡¯t it?¡± I asked.


    She glared at me, then faced forward again. ¡°I may not like my mother, but I¡¯m not the kind of person to spread rumors when someone¡¯s trying to keep things quiet.¡±


    I hummed thoughtfully.


    ¡°What?¡± Olivia demanded.


    ¡°How many almost nice things do you think someone has to do before they can be accused of actual niceness?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like you either, Emerra Cole.¡±


    My heart withered, and an emotion-based frost crept up my stomach.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said softly, ¡°I know.¡± I scraped up some enthusiasm to add to my voice. It wasn¡¯t enough to make me sound cheerful, but at least I wouldn¡¯t sound sad. ¡°But I¡¯m glad we can work together, even if we don¡¯t like each other.¡± I let my eyes wander over the crowd and the booths. ¡°Maybe that¡¯s enough.¡±


    It had to be enough. It was all we had.


    I knew from dealing with my father that there were times you¡¯d be desperate for someone to care about you, and they never would. Sometimes you didn¡¯t even have the comfort of understanding why. That desperation was nothing but pain on top of disappointment. Several talented therapists had carefully walked me through the facts of the matter while gently pointing out the need for acceptance. They seemed to think it was important for me to understand.


    What I never had the words to explain was that they were only addressing half of the ghost-coin. Two sides. Same coin. They rested one side on their thumb and flicked it hard into the air. I could hear it ring. It was solid. But they never seemed to notice the side that haunted me, so it remained, in some ways, unreal.


    It was hard wanting to be liked and not being liked. But there was just as much desperation and sadness when you wanted to like someone, and couldn¡¯t. There were just as many unfulfilled wishes. If only my father had been there for me, if only he¡¯d said anything kind or encouraging, if only he hadn¡¯t been so distant and selfish¡ªI would¡¯ve loved him. But he hadn¡¯t, he didn¡¯t, and he wasn¡¯t. I had to accept that too.


    I could¡¯ve liked Olivia¡ªif she was nicer, if she was less caustic, if she was less sarcastic. But I had no right to ask her to change and no reason to expect that she would. She didn¡¯t care about my good opinion of her. She didn¡¯t care about most people¡¯s good opinions. After what little I¡¯d learned about her life, I could understand why she had taken that stance.


    I let out a loud sigh¡ªone that contained at least a smidge of a groan. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Olivia look at me, so I looked back at her.


    ¡°Shall we continue working together?¡± I asked.


    She hesitated, then said, ¡°At least until Kirby is home.¡±


    I nodded and put my hands in my pockets. ¡°Back in the coffee shop, there was one point where you got really thoughtful. What were you thinking about?¡±


    By then we were in the thick of it all. There were booths on either side of us and people milling around. I had to resist the urge to dart off and look at all the arts and crafts on display. Olivia and I walked down the wide aisle that led toward the small stage at the center of the park.


    ¡°I was thinking about what Misserly said about magical signatures,¡± Olivia said at last.


    ¡°How do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I mean that if this damn case wasn¡¯t so full of holes, maybe we could figure something out! If only we knew what they took!¡± She kicked at the ground as she walked. ¡°Five thefts, and we don¡¯t know what they took from three of them. Kirby¡¯s. ARC Hall. The hardware store.¡±


    ¡°Do you think Ashworth might be right about the two projects?¡± I asked.


    ¡°How would I know?¡± she snapped.


    I massaged my temples for a second, then let my hand drop back to my side. ¡°We could talk it over. Bounce a few ideas off each other.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Remember that whole ¡®working together¡¯ thing? This is part of it.¡± I reached up and flicked the brim of her hat. ¡°Come on. Two projects. What do you think?¡±


    To her credit, Olivia did think about it.


    Then she raised her head and said, ¡°That might explain the gap.¡±


    ¡°What gap?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Kirby went missing, and nothing happens for a whole week. Then the hall gets broken into, there are three burglaries in one night, and they break into our house the next night. It feels like the last few days are all tied together, but them breaking into Kirby¡¯s feels like something else.¡±


    ¡°But what about the blood?¡±


    ¡°What blood?¡±


    ¡°The needle. We talked about the idea that one of the reasons they might have stolen the needle was to get some blood.¡±


    Olivia made a face and shook her head.


    We arrived at the edge of a crowd. The stage they were surrounding was nothing more than a platform that stood a whopping one-and-a-half feet off the ground, but it gave the crowd a slightly better view of the performer.


    The performer was a lovely female magician in a red spangled outfit so revealing, I shivered with empathy when an icy breeze blew past. The breeze didn''t seem to bother her. She had dedicated her life to the art of showmanship; she could ignore such minor things as a forty-degree temperature, not including wind chill.


    Her show was meant to mimic the kind of amateur magician''s show that you might see in Las Vegas, but she was using real magic to create some of the effects. I could see the blue and purple lights.


    That spoiled it for me slightly, and I smiled when I realized how silly that was. You know things are screwy when fake magic looks more impressive to you than real magic.


    Olivia and I stopped a few feet back from the rest of the crowd.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think the needle has anything to do with drawing blood,¡± Olivia said.


    I pulled my eyes away from the show. ¡°You mentioned back at the coffee shop that witches try to avoid magic that calls for blood. Is there a reason?¡±


    ¡°Because the vast majority of it is black magic. It¡¯s not just a tool for us¡ªit¡¯s malice. Using it has consequences.¡±


    ¡°There really is black magic?¡±


    She nodded.


    ¡°Does it work the same way for sorcerers and alchemists?¡± I asked.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Olivia crossed her arms. She was watching the performer, but she said to me, ¡°We don¡¯t know. Witches are the only ones that talk about how intention influences magic. The others ignore it. Dorsey¡¯s the only sorcerer I¡¯ve read that even gives credit to the idea that we know what we¡¯re talking about, and he claims that it only matters for witches because the magic we¡¯re using comes directly from us. We¡¯re the vessel¡ª¡±


    ¡°Like the jug,¡± I said.


    Olivia gave me a scathing glance. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like what Misserly said. The shape of the thing matters. If you¡¯re the jug the magic comes in, then maybe your mood is like your shape.¡±


    ¡°Do I look like a jug to you?¡±


    I nodded solemnly. ¡°A very feisty one.¡±


    She rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the stage. I did the same¡ªminus the eye-roll.


    ¡°But if the needle doesn¡¯t have to do with blood,¡± I said, ¡°does that mean it¡¯s another tool? Like the jug?¡±


    It took Olivia a moment to answer. ¡°Probably. But we¡¯re also dealing with someone who was able to make a person invisible. For all we know, he stole the needle to inject a potion into someone. That makes more sense that it being used in a device.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s all wrong! It¡¯s the wrong shape. It¡¯s the wrong material¡ª¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s it the wrong material?¡±


    ¡°Hypodermic needles are stainless steel. That¡¯s a dead-weight metal when it comes to magic. It might be a part of a device, but it wouldn¡¯t be the active part. It¡¯d be more like a spring or a cog¡ªbut what the hell kind of a machine would need a needle as one of its working components? It¡¯s too fine. It¡¯d break the moment it was used.¡±


    ¡°But¡­then¡­¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know! Okay?¡± Olivia wasn¡¯t shouting, but her voice was strained. ¡°Why don¡¯t you try coming up with some answers, instead of pestering me with a thousand questions that I can¡¯t do anything with!¡±


    When she finished her tirade, she pressed her lips together.


    I couldn¡¯t be offended. One glance at her expression was all it took. Her frustration and grief were almost palpable.


    Maybe I was projecting, but when you don¡¯t get the love you need from your family, you have to find your value somewhere else. I was pretty sure that Olivia had found hers in excelling¡ªin being the best witch possible, defying everyone who thought she couldn¡¯t do it, in knowing everything. But now, when it really mattered to her, she didn¡¯t have the answers. And she couldn¡¯t look them up in a book.


    I gazed up at the performer. She was wowing the crowd with some contact juggling. The clear balls rolled over her arms as smooth as liquid, without any help from her magic. Then she caught one of the balls in her palm, and the two others rolled down to meet it, disappearing in a flash of blue light, one after the other.


    The satisfied sigh of the audience was followed by applause.


    That must have been cool to see. Shame the blue light had hidden it from me.


    ¡°Olivia, why did you ask Big Jacky to be your master?¡± I asked.


    ¡°More questions?¡± she grumbled.


    I leaned toward her. ¡°At least you know the answer to this one.¡±


    ¡°Does it matter?¡±


    ¡°No. That¡¯s why I¡¯m asking it. Brains work better when they¡¯re distracted.¡±


    ¡°Is that what you tell yourself?¡±


    My mouth opened, then closed again.


    As a matter of fact, that was what I told myself. I¡¯d heard the line once¡ªout of context and without understanding what it meant¡ªand I¡¯d liked it so much I immediately embraced it and refused to do any further research.


    I had assumed it meant that you had to distract your conscious mind so that your unconscious could get to work on the real problems. Unfortunately, there was a chance that my unconscious was as easily distracted as my conscious mind, and they ran around together like two dopes at a carnival.


    ¡°We¡¯ve tried it your way,¡± I said. ¡°Why don¡¯t we try it my way for a bit?¡±


    Another chill breeze blew the smell of snow and street food over us. Olivia¡¯s chest rose and fell in a sigh.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t care if my master was a witch,¡± she said. ¡°Because of how I use my magic, an alchemist or a sorcerer would¡¯ve worked just as well for me. The only thing I wanted was for them to be important. I wanted them¡ª¡± She stopped and her cheeks turned pink. With a courage I could admire, she went on, ¡°I wanted them to be more important than my mother. I researched the five closest Torrs, and I kept seeing the same name¡ªJack Noctis. I thought he had to be someone special if he was a torrman with more than one Torr.¡±


    I bit down on both my lips to keep from laughing, but my chest jerked with suppressed giggles. Olivia, of course, saw it and glared at me.


    ¡°Well,¡± I said, when I could control my giggling, ¡°you were right about him being special.¡±


    Was it my imagination, or did the far edge of Olivia¡¯s mouth tick up for a second?


    I said, ¡°When you found out he wasn¡¯t a magician, why didn¡¯t you go find a new master?¡±


    ¡°My mother and I had had a fight about it. She said that I was making a mistake and wasting my apprenticeship¡­¡± Olivia¡¯s voice trailed off.


    ¡°And there was no way you were going to admit she was right?¡±


    The pink in her cheeks had been fading, but now it bloomed again, even brighter. ¡°It wasn¡¯t a mistake! It¡¯s not what I expected, but it wasn¡¯t a mistake. Iset¡¯s the perfect tutor. She¡¯s studied every type of magic there is, and when she wants solutions, she doesn¡¯t care where they come from. That was exactly what I needed.¡±


    I thought about the two long scrolls and smiled. ¡°Olivia Oliversen, I think you¡¯re a very lucky girl.¡±


    When she turned her eyes to me, they were narrow with anger and suspicion. She must have thought I was teasing her.


    I elaborated: ¡°Who else can pull a goof like that, and plop themselves¡ªsmack!¡ªinto the best place possible?¡±


    She relaxed and looked back up at the stage. ¡°Yeah. Maybe you¡¯re right.¡±


    Our Madam of Prestidigitation had put away the clear balls. Part of her act was that she never made a sound, so now she silently, and with exaggerated hand motions, drew attention to her wide-open mouth, proving to the audience (or those close enough to vouch for her) that it was empty.


    To further prove it, she squirted some water in her mouth, swallowed, then squirted some more. She pretended to gag on the volume of water and spat it back out in an arc. I watched the blue sparks dance along the water as it turned to ice. When she stepped away, it hung in the air, suspended without support. She wandered around, seemingly dumbfounded by her own magic. The children in the audience tittered when they saw her expression.


    She touched the ice and it shattered into a million pieces. I saw the flash of magic that accomplished the job.


    Next she pulled a balloon out of her costume¡ªa deflated balloon. Considering how skimpy her costume was, if she¡¯d managed to pull out an inflated balloon, that would¡¯ve required real magic.


    She blew it up, then drew out one of her long metal hair pins, causing her hair to roll down her back. She pressed the point into the side of the balloon. When the balloon popped, the fire that erupted from it made several children scream with surprise and delight.


    I smiled when I heard their laughter and turned to Olivia, to ask her how impressive it had looked if you couldn¡¯t see the magic, but the expression on her face froze the question to my lips.


    ¡°We need Jacky,¡± Olivia whispered. ¡°I need¡ª¡±


    She stopped suddenly and fumbled around her cape, trying to reach the pockets of her dress. I pulled out my phone, dialed Jacky, and handed it to her.


    She glanced at the screen and put it to her ear. A second later, she groaned. ¡°Do you think he remembered to take it off silent?¡±


    I frowned.


    Big Jacky was famous for not answering his phone. But the way he¡¯d talked before he left us made it sound as if, in this case, he was going to make a special effort.


    Olivia suddenly raised her head. ¡°Mr. Noctis? Are you nearby?¡±


    Big Jacky appeared beside us. There was no noise or movement to mark his arrival. One second there was air, the next it was occupied by a skeleton in a suit.


    He pulled the phone away from his skull and hung up. ¡°Yes.¡±


    Olivia passed me my phone. As I returned it to my pocket, I noticed that Jacky clicked off his ringer before putting his phone away. I shook my head. Some people are born hopeless.


    Not¡­not that I had any idea if Big Jacky had ever been born.


    ¡°Has something happened?¡± Jacky asked.


    ¡°I may have an idea,¡± Olivia said, ¡°but I need you to check it. Tell me what¡¯s wrong with it.¡±


    Jacky nodded. That was something he could do. He was oddly good with seeing around ideas and logic. Of course, without anything resembling common sense or a concept of proportion, it was an easy romp from there to the realms of the ridiculous¡ªbut, by gum, it was going to be a logical romp.


    Olivia led us away from the crowd and over to the edge of the street fair to escape some of the noise.


    When we stopped, Jacky said, ¡°Did you talk to your mother?¡±


    ¡°She said nothing was taken,¡± Olivia said.


    Jacky raised his skull to rest his eye sockets on the line of booths. The face he didn¡¯t have managed to look frustrated. Then, without warning, he turned to me.


    ¡°Was she telling the truth?¡±


    Jacky has this strange quality to his voice sometimes. It¡¯s a sense of eternity and fathomless space, and it makes his moderately low voice feel like it¡¯s coming from the world¡¯s deepest bass. I''m around him enough, sometimes I take him for granted. Whenever that happens, he''ll say something in that voice, and it reminds me that I''m listening to death.


    I hadn¡¯t been expecting to hear it, and I certainly hadn¡¯t been expecting to hear it directed at me, so my answer came out as a stammer. ¡°Y-yes. I mean, I think so.¡±


    ¡°Witches will lie about things like that. They don¡¯t like to be perceived as weak. Were you watching her face?¡±


    Olivia broke in, ¡°She was telling the truth, Mr. Noctis. Listen to me for a second.¡±


    Jacky turned and waited.


    ¡°I think I know what the thieves are after,¡± Olivia said. ¡°No¡ªnot really. But I think I know where they¡¯re after. Like, their final goal.¡±


    ¡°Olivia, I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re not making any sense,¡± Jacky said.


    She held her hands up by her head, then jerked them down. All her movements were tight with suppressed excitement. ¡°All right, look! When the thieves broke into ARC Hall, we assumed that they were after something in there.¡±


    Jacky said slowly, as if looking for a trap, ¡°That¡¯s correct.¡±


    ¡°Then, when they broke into those other three places and my house, it looked like they were trying to build something or collect tools, and we assumed that whatever they¡¯d been after in ARC Hall was a part of that. But what if we were right the first time?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°What if they¡¯re after something in ARC Hall? What if that¡¯s their final goal?¡±


    The poor girl had finally snapped. She¡¯d been wound so tight for so long, and now the spring had cracked. It was a shame. I blamed the witches¡¯ culture.


    ¡°Olivia,¡± I said with a heart full of sympathy, ¡°we know it wasn¡¯t their final goal. They broke into four other places afterward.¡±


    ¡°No! You don¡¯t¡ªugh. Just try to follow along, Emerra.¡±


    I was already trying for all my worth, but I wasn¡¯t going to correct someone in the middle of a mental breakdown.


    ¡°Why was nothing gone from ARC Hall?¡± she demanded. ¡°Because they¡¯d failed! When you accept that, it all makes sense! Jacky said that they were careful people. They probably checked out Kirby¡¯s place before breaking into it. They waited days before their next heist. They took the time to test the wards around ARC Hall even though they could walk right through the front door. That is careful. So, then, after that, why did they suddenly go into panic mode and break into three places on the same night?¡±


    ¡°Maybe because the festival was coming to a close, and they felt like they were running out of time,¡± I reminded her.


    ¡°Right! But we know that they were here at least a week ago! If they knew they were going to be breaking into those other four places, don¡¯t you think they would have spread it out a little more? Played it a little more safely. Then they wouldn¡¯t have had to break those two windows!¡±


    Jacky¡¯s spine straightened. ¡°You think they broke into those places because of what happened in ARC Hall?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Olivia grinned. It was a fierce little smile with triumph and teeth bared.


    ¡°But,¡± I said, ¡°you can¡¯t know that. Not really.¡±


    ¡°Not know it, no. But it makes sense.¡± She put her thumbnail between her teeth for a second, then pulled it out. ¡°Time to play pretend, Emerra. You can do that, right?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°They came to Craftborough a week ago. They¡¯re careful and thoughtful. They break into Kirby¡¯s place, but as cautious as they are, he catches them because a blind guy isn¡¯t going to care if you¡¯re invisible. They mucked that up badly, but they don¡¯t want to give up on their final goal. It¡¯s too important to them. So they kidnap Kirby to keep him quiet until they can get what they¡¯re really after. That¡¯s a big risk for some cautious people¡ªso whatever they¡¯re after must be worth a lot¡ª¡±


    Jacky mumbled, ¡°And the most precious things in this town are all in ARC Hall.¡±


    Olivia pointed to him, then returned her attention to me. ¡°They finish their preparations for breaking into the hall. They¡¯re not worried. They have plenty of time. They sneak the invisible guy into the hall during the day so they don¡¯t have to worry about the wards. Except that they didn¡¯t know about the inner wards because those wards are kept secret from everyone who isn¡¯t directly involved in maintaining them. They fumble around, set off the ward, alerting the wardsman, who calls up my mother. When everyone shows up there, they look around, but they can¡¯t see anyone. Captain Transparent could have stayed there until the coast was clear, or he could¡¯ve left in all the chaos.¡±


    ¡°How could he leave if the ward was up?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Wards only keep you from coming in. They never stop you from going out.¡±


    ¡°Go on,¡± Jacky said.


    Olivia obliged: ¡°Their first attempt failed. Now they have to make a choice. Do they give up and go home, or do they stay and try again?¡±


    Jacky said, ¡°Whatever their original motivation had been, they¡¯d taken on the risk of holding Kirby against his will. To abandon their project without any prize, after all that work and risk, would be repugnant to them.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why all the other burglaries were so rushed,¡± Olivia added. ¡°Now they¡¯re in a hurry, because the festival¡¯s going to be over, and they¡¯ll lose the cover of the crowd. That¡¯s why they stole all those cheap things that weren¡¯t worth stealing. They¡¯d be hard to get a hold of, and they didn¡¯t have any time to wait.¡±


    I remembered what Misserly had said. ¡°Olivia, blessed silver isn¡¯t cheap.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but it is hard to get a hold of, and they needed it to get through the ward.¡±


    Jacky said, ¡°You mean the inner ward? You think they¡¯ll try again?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°But how can you break a ward?¡± I asked. ¡°I thought that it would take an impossible amount of power.¡±


    Olivia grinned again and her eyes lit up. ¡°That¡¯s only if you¡¯re trying to crush it from the outside.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Do you know why a bigger ward is always weaker than a small ward, Emerra?¡±


    Ah. She¡¯d found a chance to show off. No wonder her eyes were so bright.


    ¡°No,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°It¡¯s because it¡¯s too big. If you¡¯re trying to protect several buildings at once, you better hope whatever you¡¯re protecting it from isn¡¯t a magician because all it would take is one good punch with a directed blast¡ªyou wouldn¡¯t even have to form it!¡ªand it would shatter. It¡¯s the power of the strike concentrated at the point of impact versus the power spread over the total surface area. That¡¯s why, if you directed that same blast at a ward that was only protecting a room, it wouldn¡¯t do jack squat.¡±


    Big Jacky raised a finger to get our attention. ¡°Who is Jack Squat?¡±


    We ignored him.


    ¡°But Nylah made it sound like they had multiple wards,¡± I pointed out, ¡°so they¡¯re probably only protecting a room. Or maybe even something smaller than that. Like a shelf. A blast wouldn¡¯t do it.¡±


    ¡°No, but something tiny, something that could bring the magic to the absolute smallest point, something coated in blessed silver that could shed most of the magic as it pierced through¡ª¡±


    ¡°The needle!¡± I couldn¡¯t have been more excited if I¡¯d been the one to come up with it myself. ¡°They¡¯re going to pop the ward like a balloon!¡± I turned to Jacky. ¡°Is that possible?¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re asking about the magic,¡± he said, ¡°Olivia is our expert, but her scenario is plausible, and there¡¯s no fault in her reasoning.¡± He held perfectly still for a quarter of a second, then turned and started walking. ¡°Come.¡±


    Olivia and I ran to catch up.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± Olivia asked.


    ¡°The festival ends tomorrow. We need to find your mother.¡±


    ¡°My mother!¡±


    ¡°What does she know about the situation?¡±


    Olivia cast a dark look my way. ¡°I told her everything.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Jacky said without slowing down. ¡°That will simplify things.¡±


    ¡°Jacky,¡± I said, ¡°Olivia¡¯s already talked to her¡ª¡±


    ¡°Olivia isn¡¯t going to be talking to her. I am. Olivia, if it¡¯s too uncomfortable for you, you¡¯re welcome to leave.¡±


    I glanced at Olivia¡¯s face. Yeah. That wasn¡¯t going to happen.


    Jacky added, ¡°Emerra, you keep an eye on Mrs. Oliversen.¡±


    ¡°Always happy to lend an eyeball, but can you tell us what¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°If the thieves are in a hurry, then so are we.¡±

 Chapter 39 - An Unusual Wager

    It wasn''t hard to track down Ellis Oliversen. All you had to do was ask a few witchly looking ladies if they¡¯d seen her recently. It wasn¡¯t long before we found one who pointed us toward ARC Hall.


    As we neared the building, Jacky said, ¡°I presume that when you told her everything, you also told her about the invisible thief?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Olivia said.


    Big Jacky hummed thoughtfully.


    At that moment, Ellis Oliversen came out of the front doors. Officer Ansel was beside her. They both stopped short when they saw us.


    Jacky stopped ten feet away from them, standing square to the door with his legs apart and his arms crossed. Olivia and I flanked him. Because I like a good dramatic show, and I could see that this was shaping up to be one, I put on my tough-girl face and also stood with my arms crossed. Olivia struck a different pose, but her standard no-nonsense expression was tough enough.


    ¡°Mistress Oliversen,¡± Jack Noctis, the embodiment of death, intoned, ¡°I must have a word with you.¡±


    And this¡ªthis¡ªis how tough witches are:


    Rather than stutter out an agreement, Ellis said, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mr. Noctis. I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m too busy to chat right now.¡±


    ¡°I will not beg an indulgence,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s not in my nature to beg. Nor do I want to waste time trying to convince you of the urgency of the situation. I think you already know. So I¡¯m reduced to threats.¡±


    Ansel scowled and took a half-step forward, but she was stopped by Ellis¡¯s outstretched arm. When they looked at each other, Ellis shook her head. Ansel glared a moment longer, then stepped back and walked away.


    Ellis didn¡¯t say anything until Ansel was out of the courtyard.


    ¡°And how are you going to threaten me, Mr. Noctis?¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t agree to give me fifteen minutes of your time, I will call Cosmo Uhler, explain the situation to him, and he will order you to give it to me.¡±


    After a brief pause, Ellis said, ¡°That¡¯s an interesting threat.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed as she regarded Big Jacky. They moved over to me¡ªthe girl who was friends with Cosmo Uhler¡ªthen back to Jacky.


    ¡°I assume you want this conversation to happen in private?¡± she said.


    Jacky replied, ¡°No, but I assume that you do.¡±


    ¡°Very well. Come inside.¡±


    She turned back to ARC Hall. We followed her through the front door.


    The lobby was designed with a modern layout, but all the details were done in colonial style. The ceiling above us was vaulted all the way up to the third floor, but the chandeliers that hung down were done in wrought iron and lit with candle-shaped light bulbs. The front desk was spacious, but the wood was dark and decorated with intricate carvings. It really was just another fancy lobby, but the fact it was also forbidden territory made everything seem delightful.


    The witch at the front desk looked surprised to see her mistress back again so soon.


    Ellis walked up to her. ¡°I need to borrow an office. Is Mrs. Irvine in?¡±


    ¡°No, Mistress.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be in there. These three are with me. I¡¯ll take responsibility for them.¡±


    The woman nodded, and we followed Ellis deeper into ARC Hall.


    I would¡¯ve loved to explore the building, but before I could dodge down one of the long halls or step into a maze of shelves, Ellis turned and led us over to a nearby staircase.


    On the second floor, she took us down a short hall and over to a dark-wood door. Beside it, fixed to the wall was a small hand-etched faceplate.


    Irvine.


    It was so elegant and understated, you knew that whoever Mrs. Irvine was, she had to be important.


    Ellis walked in without knocking.


    The office mimicked the style of the rest of the building: modern, but faking colonial. Ellis sat down behind Mrs. Irvine¡¯s desk and motioned for us to take the other chairs.


    Since there were only two of them, Jacky and Olivia sat down while I stayed standing.


    Mrs. Oliversen crossed one leg over the other. ¡°Now, Mr. Noctis, you have fifteen minutes.¡±


    ¡°I understand that Olivia has told you what we¡¯ve learned in the course of our investigation.¡±


    ¡°Yes. You think there¡¯s an invisible thief wandering around Craftborough.¡±


    It said a lot about the seriousness of the situation that nobody cracked a smile when Ellis said that.


    ¡°I must correct you,¡± Jacky said. ¡°I believe that it¡¯s the invisible thief¡¯s partner that wanders around. But I do believe that it was an invisible thief that broke into this building three nights ago. Or will you still insist that it was a false alarm?¡±


    ¡°Mr. Noctis, I appreciate what you¡¯ve done for my daughter, but whatever I insist, or whatever I think, it¡¯s no concern of yours.¡±


    ¡°Did you find any evidence?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    Jacky laced his finger bones together and put his elbows out on the arms of the chair. ¡°Wasn¡¯t that what you were looking for? The festival is outside, the Hall is all but deserted, and yet you and Officer Ansel were here together until only a moment ago. I assumed that when Olivia told you her suspicions, they sounded plausible enough to worry you, and you wanted to come back and cast a new eye over the scene.¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    There was a short silence where Ellis eyed Jacky. I don¡¯t know what she was trying to read in his face, but I don¡¯t think she found it.


    Her voice was hard and level: ¡°No. There was no evidence.¡±


    Jacky let out one of his nearly silent sighs. ¡°That¡¯s been our problem all along,¡± he muttered. Louder, he said, ¡°Mrs. Oliversen, we have reason to believe they may try to break into ARC Hall again.¡±


    Ellis Oliversen¡¯s body stiffened, but her face never changed.


    ¡°Do you have any proof?¡± she asked.


    ¡°None. Only suppositions. But I would like to offer my assistance. I have certain resources and connections at my disposal, but as we have no evidence, I can¡¯t reasonably expect to get a warrant, so our involvement must be welcomed by you.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t be.¡± Ellis¡¯s declaration fell like a hammer. ¡°I¡¯d be grateful if you¡¯d tell me why you think they¡¯ll try again, but my coven takes care of its own problems, and we¡¯ll protect our property.¡±


    Jacky leaned back in his seat. ¡°I believe you¡¯re ill-equipped to do that, Mistress Oliversen.¡±


    I had to bite the inside of my lips to keep from snickering. Watching these two powerhouses interact was like watching two boxers taking turns swinging at each other and eating the unblocked punches. If I was a betting girl, I would have put all my money on Big Jacky. They both swung like heavyweights, but Jacky took the hit differently. To him, the only difference between a blunt statement and a subtle one was that the blunt statement was easier to understand, but judging by the faint hint of red in her cheeks, Ellis wasn¡¯t used to someone saying something like that to her face.


    Jacky went on, ¡°You¡¯re saying that you¡¯d embrace the assumption that you, by yourself, can handle any circumstance, rather than welcome in a diversity of talents?¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯re as blind as a witch, and even less qualified to handle the matter than I thought.


    The shade of Ellis¡¯s cheeks darkened by a whole hue. If only I¡¯d had some paint chips, I could¡¯ve looked up the name of the exact color. It was probably something really romantic¡ªlike Inches from Murder.


    Ellis said through grit teeth, ¡°I have my reasons for doing things this way¡ª¡±


    ¡°Is it because of your secrets?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a common refrain with witches, it always has been, but I doubt it¡¯s the protection you wish it was.¡± When Ellis didn¡¯t answer, Jacky added, ¡°Something about the matter is touching on one of your secrets, and that¡¯s why you¡¯re refusing our help, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then if I can prove to you that we already know your secrets, there would be no reason to exclude us.¡±


    Ellis¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°If you knew my secrets, Mr. Noctis, I would want to know how you learned them.¡±


    ¡°We could tell you that. I propose a wager. It wouldn¡¯t be a traditional wager¡ªyou lose nothing by it¡ªbut it might be more meaningful. I will hand you a piece of paper with something written on it. If what I write down is wrong, then it¡¯s clear we know nothing, we¡¯ll be excluded, and you can rest assured that your secrets are safe. But if what I write down is correct, you¡¯ll allow us to help you, and I¡¯ll tell you how we know.¡±


    Ellis watched him without saying anything.


    ¡°Will you give me your word?¡± Jacky asked.


    Her eyes narrowed. ¡°Why are you doing this?¡±


    ¡°Olivia cares a great deal for Mr. Kirby, and I care a great deal for Olivia. I know how frustrating it is to not be able to help a friend¡ªto have to sit there and do nothing¡ªwhen you¡¯re afraid that they¡¯re in trouble. I would spare her from that pain if I could.¡±


    I botched my assignment; my eyes flicked over to Jacky¡¯s skull. There was old sorrow, written like a scar, on every angle of the bone. When I realized I was watching the wrong person I moved my eyes back to the witch behind the desk.


    I might not have noticed the change in Mrs. Oliversen¡¯s expression if I¡¯d been watching the whole time. The difference was that small. When I¡¯d looked away, there was nothing but cold displeasure and suspicion. When I looked back, the coldness was gone.


    Don¡¯t get me wrong¡ªthere was still a mountain of displeasure. But there was also a softness in her features that hinted at sympathy.


    ¡°Olivia,¡± Jacky said.


    Olivia reached into her pocket and passed him her notepad and pen. I didn¡¯t want to ruin the moment by craning over to see what he was writing, so I kept my eyes on Ellis. She was watching Jacky. A second later, Jacky ripped the top page free, folded it in half, leaned forward, and held it out over the desk.


    ¡°Do you give me your word?¡± he repeated.


    I had wondered why Jacky insisted on writing it down when he could¡¯ve simply said it, but when I saw Ellis Oliversen¡¯s eyes fix on that folded bit of paper, I thought I understood: there was a mysterious allure to tangible bait.


    Ellis didn¡¯t move, but I could sense the tension straining the space between her and the paper. She didn¡¯t have to take it, but until she did, it would be there, tempting her. Jacky was a man of endless patience. He could wait.


    Being a far less patient person, I was about to snatch the darn thing out of his hand and read it myself when Ellis finally leaned forward.


    ¡°I give you my word, Mr. Noctis.¡± She reached out.


    Before her fingers could close over the sheet, Jacky said, ¡°You¡¯ll allow me to direct and use all my resources as I see fit?¡±


    ¡°I suppose it won¡¯t make a difference. If you can prove you know my secrets, and you tell me how you know, I¡¯ll agree to your terms.¡±


    He relinquished the paper.


    Ellis leaned back and opened it. There was a split-second where I could see her emotions¡ªsee them, not try to read them from her expression. Surprise had cracked her mask wide open, and behind it there was a thick cloud of frustration, rolling with exhaustion, laced with a fine ribbon of anxiety. The vision was gone as fast as it had appeared.


    Her lips tightened, and when she raised her eyes, they didn¡¯t go to Jacky¡ªthey went to me.


    And I knew that she knew I¡¯d seen something.


    A shiver ran down my arms.


    She tossed the open paper on the desk. ¡°How did you know?¡±


    Jacky said, ¡°You mentioned a wardsman to Olivia¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not about that. The inner wards are an open secret. Considering the number of wardsmen we¡¯ve had over the years, I¡¯m surprised it¡¯s not common knowledge. How did you know about the grimoires?¡±


    Grimoires?


    Olivia and I did our best to keep our faces straight and act like this wasn¡¯t news to us.


    ¡°Ah,¡± Jacky leaned back in his chair and once again laced his finger bones together. ¡°That would be the list.¡±


    ¡°What list?¡±


    ¡°The list that was sitting on the desk in your office the morning after the thieves¡¯ first attempt. It was a list of the most famous and talented witches throughout the history of your coven. The check marks next to their names made me suspect that you, or someone else, had been using it as a checklist. You must have wanted to make sure that nothing had been stolen, so all that remained was for me to figure out what kind of item would be collected and preserved from each of the most talented witches. They couldn¡¯t be tools¡ªsome witches don¡¯t make them. And they wouldn¡¯t be spells, since those are more likely to be stored by type, not by the author. The only reasonable thing I could come up with were their grimoires.¡±


    Ellis¡¯s cheeks pulled back in a faint grimace. ¡°You guessed,¡± she said.


    ¡°I did.¡±


    She glared at Jacky. If he felt uncomfortable, not even my magical eyes could pick up on it.


    ¡°What I wrote down was correct,¡± he said, ¡°and you gave me your word, Mistress Oliversen.¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± she said.


    ¡°Good.¡± Jacky reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. ¡°Then we can get started immediately.¡±


    ¡°Who are you calling?¡±


    Jacky must have had whoever he was calling on speed dial. He pressed one button and put his phone to his ear.


    As the call went through, Jacky said to Ellis, ¡°You said that I would be allowed to use my resources as I see fit. My contacts are part of my resources.¡±


    The hand Ellis had left on the desk clenched, and I wondered if she would object, but then she uncurled her fist, and let her fingers fall to the desktop, drumming them in an abrupt four-tap rhythm.


    ¡°Mr. Noctis,¡± she said, ¡°for all your guile, you seem like a frank man. Perhaps you¡¯d be willing to answer another question.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°How did Olivia and Emerra get into coven headquarters when it was supposed to be locked?¡±


    Jacky sounded confused, like he couldn¡¯t understand why she¡¯d ask something so obvious. ¡°Through the door.¡±

 Chapter 40 - The Role of a Side Character

    Olivia and I slogged into the Oliversens¡¯ house at ten that evening. We¡¯d spent all day working with Ellis and Jacky to make sure that everything was ready for the next day. We were exhausted, and we hadn¡¯t had anything to eat since the coffee shop. The only debate between us was whether we would stagger our way up to bed immediately, or stagger over to the kitchen first.


    Well¡­it was the only ¡°debate.¡± Everything else probably qualified as the unrestrained expression of our personal perspectives.


    ¡°My god, you are so whiny,¡± Olivia said as she closed the door behind us.


    ¡°Sure,¡± I grumbled. ¡°You don¡¯t care. You¡¯ve seen at least a dozen Besom Days Festivals.¡±


    We heard a voice call from the sitting room, ¡°Pumpkin? Is that you?¡±


    Olivia started taking off her boots. ¡°Yes, Daddy.¡±


    I was fumbling around with my frozen laces, but I still managed to give Olivia my most annoying grin. ¡°Are you the only one around here that¡¯s ¡®pumpkin?¡¯¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s because of my hair,¡± she said. ¡°It used to be more orange.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s adorable.¡±


    ¡°I will hex you.¡±


    Rall came to my rescue.


    ¡°You have a visitor,¡± he called.


    Olivia and I glanced at each other, but neither of us knew who it could be. We finished taking off our shoes and made our way over to the sitting room.


    Autumn Langley and Rall Axton were sitting next to each other on the sofa. On the coffee table in front of them were two empty mugs and a few photo albums.


    As Olivia and I came in, Rall stood up so he could claim a hug from his daughter.


    ¡°You¡¯re frozen,¡± he observed. ¡°Is it snowing out there?¡±


    She made a face. ¡°It¡¯s light. It won¡¯t stick.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll get you something warm to drink.¡±


    ¡°Is there anything to eat?¡±


    ¡°I dare say I could rustle something up. What about you, Emerra? Would you like something?¡±


    I pointed to the albums. ¡°Are those Olivia¡¯s baby pictures?¡±


    Rall¡¯s mustache had to do a lot of bending to make room for his wide smile. ¡°Of course!¡±


    ¡°Can I see them?¡±


    Rall took one look at Olivia¡¯s face, which was displaying her silent outrage, and elected to make a strategic retreat. ¡°Maybe later.¡±


    What could I do? I was already under hex-threat.


    Rall said, ¡°You two sit down and relax. Where¡¯s Mr. Noctis?¡±


    Olivia hesitated, then said, ¡°He stayed behind.¡±


    Since Jacky didn¡¯t need sleep (the lucky punk), he¡¯d offered to stay and watch ARC Hall.


    Rall considered his daughter¡¯s answer for a moment, then nodded once, accepting yet another unknown in a life full of uncertainty. ¡°Is there any word on when your mother will make it home?¡±


    Olivia¡¯s face softened. ¡°Not yet. I¡¯m sorry, Daddy.¡±


    ¡°Never mind.¡± He patted her shoulder. ¡°You¡¯d better say hello to poor Miss Langley. She¡¯s been stuck with me the entire time.¡± He wandered out into the hall.


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    Olivia collapsed into an armchair, while I stole Rall¡¯s spot on the sofa¡ªthe one tantalizingly close to the forbidden albums.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry if he kept you here,¡± Olivia grumbled.


    Delight shone from Autumn¡¯s face. ¡°Not at all. Your father is a joy to talk to.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s cheeks turned faintly pink. If she had any suspicions about who they¡¯d been talking about, she chose not to mention it.


    Autumn went on, ¡°I came by to talk to you, and your father insisted I could wait with him.¡±


    ¡°Did you learn something?¡± I asked.


    Autumn¡¯s smile faded. ¡°I heard something today. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s important.¡± She looked at Olivia. ¡°A man¡¯s been asking about you.¡±


    ¡°A stranger?¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°He¡¯s not a local. No one knew him. Tracy Thatcher told me that she was chatting to a man in the shop, gossiping about the festival. When she mentioned Ellis Oliversen, he said he¡¯d met you¡ª¡±


    ¡°And she started gossiping about me,¡± Olivia said.


    Tracy Thatcher must have had quite the reputation as a talker.


    ¡°He asked her a bunch of questions,¡± Autumn said. ¡°That¡¯s why she came to me. She got curious, and she knew I knew you.¡±


    ¡°Did she tell you what he looked like?¡± I asked.


    Autumn shook her head.


    ¡°Height?¡± As I prompted her, she continued shaking her head. ¡°Hair color? Possibility he¡¯s descended from a Greek god and a fashion model?¡±


    That last one made her look at me funny.


    Olivia explained, ¡°She means did Tracy mention if he was handsome.¡±


    Autumn raised a finger and bounced it against the air. ¡°That one. She mentioned he was handsome.¡±


    My eyes met Olivia¡¯s.


    ¡°Do you know who it was?¡± Autumn asked.


    ¡°We might,¡± I said.


    ¡°But this is Craftborough,¡± Olivia added. ¡°We have a lot more women around here than men. Most male strangers would be considered handsome.¡±


    ¡°Is this guy going to be a problem?¡± Autumn asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. We¡¯ll take care of it.¡±


    Autumn¡¯s lips tightened and she looked away. When she raised her head again, she said, ¡°Is there any news?¡±


    My heart sank. Olivia frowned.


    News? As in, actual facts? Something reliable that you could depend on? Ha! Wouldn¡¯t that be nice?


    But I wasn¡¯t about to say something like that to Autumn. The softness of her voice had betrayed how exhausted her hope was.


    ¡°Kirby¡¯s still alive,¡± Olivia assured her. ¡°We¡¯ve got some ideas. And a plan. But we don¡¯t know how it¡¯ll pan out.¡±


    ¡°The plan,¡± Autumn said, ¡°is it dangerous?¡±


    Olivia tried for a dismissive and light tone: ¡°No. Not¡ªno. It¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    If there hadn¡¯t been that unfortunate half-second pause in the middle of her answer, it might have been more convincing.


    Autumn looked at me.


    Count Darius Vasil has informed me, several times, that I¡¯m a bad liar. I think that a vampire with super senses who works in law enforcement has an unfair advantage when it comes to snooping out falsehoods¡ªbut I knew I couldn¡¯t lie to Autumn. Not when she looked that sad.


    However, I could pick the truth I wanted to share.


    I said, ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m a lot more afraid that nothing¡¯s going to happen than that something¡¯s going to happen to us.¡±


    Autumn took a deep breath and let it out. ¡°Okay. Is there anything you can tell me?¡±


    Since Olivia had made it a habit to call Autumn every day, the only stuff she didn¡¯t know was what we¡¯d learned that day. We¡¯d been sworn to secrecy about most of it.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Olivia whispered. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    She looked as miserable as Autumn. She¡¯d always hated secrets. It must have killed her to lock out someone she cared so much about.


    ¡°It¡¯s all right, little ginger,¡± Autumn said. ¡°I know you¡¯re doing the best you can. You¡¯re working with your mother?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Autumn let out a quiet breath of laughter, then looked Olivia right in the eyes. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Olivia blushed again, and I smiled when I saw it.


    ¡°Is there anything I can do?¡± Autumn added.


    Rall came back into the room with a tray bearing four mugs.


    ¡°No,¡± Olivia said, ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    Autumn let out a grunt. ¡°That¡¯s the second time you¡¯ve told me not to worry.¡±


    When Rall heard that, he stopped where he was. ¡°She told you not to worry?¡±


    Autumn looked up at him and nodded.


    Rall finished crossing over to the coffee table. I moved the cups and albums to clear a space.


    ¡°Olivia,¡± he said, ¡°I thought I raised you better than that.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Olivia said as he put the tray down.


    ¡°Another tea, Miss Langley?¡± Rall asked. When she nodded, he passed her a cup. He passed me my mug of cocoa without bothering to ask if I wanted it because the man was no fool. Then he picked up the other cocoa, turned, and brought it over to his daughter. ¡°Not everyone is powerful, Olivia, and not everyone gets to be the main hero. Maybe someday you¡¯ll find yourself as the side character in somebody else¡¯s story¡ªthen you¡¯ll know. If we can¡¯t do anything else, at least we can worry.¡± His voice rose with mock indignation. ¡°Would you disrespect our role so much that you¡¯d take even that from us?¡±


    Jacky¡¯s statement echoed in my head: I know how frustrating it is to not be able to help a friend¡ªto have to sit there and do nothing...


    When there¡¯s nothing else you can do, maybe worrying counts as something.


    Olivia glared up at her father, but there was a half-smile on her face. Then she reached out and took her cocoa. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dream of it, Daddy.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Rall turned and went back for his own drink.


    Olivia added, ¡°After all, you¡¯re so good at it.¡±


    Rall sat down in the other armchair. ¡°Well, I should be. I¡¯ve had practice.¡±

 Chapter 41 - Plans

    ¡°Why do you have to leave so fast?¡±


    ¡°Because they¡¯ll come as soon as they can.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s plan A.¡±


    ¡°The front door.¡±


    ¡°Plan B.¡±


    ¡°Any other door.¡±


    ¡°What¡ª¡±


    ¡°When I open the door an alarm will go off. Ignore it. Step aside. Put the book down¡ª¡±


    ¡°On?¡±


    ¡°On a windowsill. Stay there. Be quiet. You¡¯ll come find me.¡±


    There was a momentary pause.


    Kirby¡¯s hearing was dulled by pain and the stress of having listened to Mister and Sammy for so long, but he felt a dim happiness for his friend.


    The worst of it was over.


    Kirby had been tied up for hours already, and he¡¯d be tied up for hours more. He¡¯d learned that if he could relax, then the worst of the pain would be limited to his shoulders and his wrists. But he¡¯d never learned to relax while Mister was grilling Sammy on his endless series of plans.


    There was only ever three: A, B, C. But it was three for each major point of the operation. The other times, they¡¯d been relatively easy¡ªwhat if you can¡¯t get in, what if you can¡¯t find what you¡¯re looking for, what if you can¡¯t get out. Nine plans.


    Kirby wondered how many there had been for when they broke into his shop.


    A headache, his near constant companion, clenched around his skull.


    A million plans wouldn¡¯t be enough. Kirby had proved that. Mister made good use of Sammy¡ªa thought that made a bitter taste rise in Kirby¡¯s mouth¡ªbut there would always be unforeseen circumstances. Mister never bowed to that truth. Instead, he tortured Sammy for hours before any job, making him recite the plans, time and time again, until he could do it without hesitation.


    Kirby had listened to them go through the whole process three times before. The first time, he¡¯d tried to listen with a vague idea that if he ever got out of there alive, what he learned might help the police catch Mister. This time, his body had tensed as soon as they started, and he wasted most of his energy wishing he was deaf.


    It was hard to listen to Mister''s yelling, but the worst was when Sammy''s voice took on that gaspy, blubbering sound that meant he was crying, even as he continued reciting, as clear as he could, plan after plan after plan.


    This time had been worse than the others because there were so many more plans. This was the big job¡ªthe reason they¡¯d come to Craftborough.


    If they succeeded, it was over.


    Good for you, Kirby thought. Get the hell out of my town.


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    Even as he thought it, he felt a small tang of sadness leak into his heart. He wished he could help Sammy somehow.


    You should worry about yourself, Nolan.


    The best-case scenario would be if they came back and untied him. They might do that. If everything went well, Sammy might be able to talk Mister into doing that before they left.


    The much more likely scenario would be if they left and never looked back.


    Kirby¡¯s heart started pounding. He slowed his breathing and hoped his heart rate would follow. He didn¡¯t have energy to waste. After a week and a half of being held prisoner, he didn¡¯t even know if he had the strength, let alone the skills, to escape on his own. When they¡¯d been gone on other jobs, he¡¯d tried to loosen his binds and never succeeded.


    This time your life might depend on it.


    The worst-case scenario would be if Mister came back into the house alone. Sammy would be waiting out in the car, quietly humming to himself. Mister would say he was going back in because he forgot something¡ª


    No. The worst-case scenario would be if Mister told Sammy to do it. Because he would.


    Kirby had to draw his next shuddering breath in through the sob he locked back in his chest.


    He chastised himself. He should have known better than to indulge in morbid speculation.


    The good news is, if they do decide to kill me, at least I won¡¯t see it coming.


    The small jerks from his silent laugh shot a bolt of pain through each shoulder. Kirby was hysterical, and he knew it, but he welcomed even his darkest humor, because at least it was humor.


    An unbidden thought tip-toed into his mind:


    Autumn would¡¯ve laughed.


    He could hold back the sob, but there was nothing he could do about the tears that slid from the edges of his eyes and fell to the couch.


    In the other room, Mister said, ¡°Plan C.¡±


    ¡°If everything goes wrong,¡± Sammy recited, ¡°stop where I am. Hold still. Be quiet.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± There was a deep note of satisfaction in Mister¡¯s voice. ¡°Good. You¡¯ve got them down.¡±


    Finally, Kirby thought.


    ¡°We¡¯re ready,¡± Mister added.


    ¡°But¡ª¡± Sammy started to say.


    Mister¡¯s voice was sharp with irritation: ¡°What now?¡±


    Kirby tensed again.


    There was a pause. Then Sammy said, almost in a whisper, ¡°What if they see the book?¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t see the book. They¡¯ll be running for the room. I¡¯ve explained this, Sammy! You grab the book. You get out of there.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°If someone¡¯s passing you in the hall, what do you do?¡±


    ¡°Step off to the side, hold still, be quiet,¡± Sammy said.


    ¡°If someone is lingering in the hall?¡±


    ¡°Put the book in a corner or against the wall. Hold still, be quiet.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the problem?¡±


    ¡°What if they take the book?¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t take the book.¡±


    ¡°What if¡ª¡±


    ¡°Then you stop them!¡± Mister shouted. ¡°All right! By god, you stop them! That book is everything.¡±


    There was the loud slap of something on wood. Mister had probably hit the table with the palm of his hand again.


    When Mister spoke, his voice was strained from his effort to moderate it. ¡°Sammy. Sammy, listen to me. If we get that book, we¡¯re in the clear. We¡¯ll have enough money to pay off all our debts, and enough left over I can work for a year without doing another job.¡±


    ¡°A year?¡±


    ¡°A whole year, Sammy. I can do nothing but work on finding a way to get you back to normal.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll do that?¡±


    A note of impatience crept into Mister¡¯s voice. ¡°I told you I would, didn¡¯t I? I take care of you, don¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°But what if¡ª¡±


    ¡°No more what ifs, Sammy. We don¡¯t have time. I have to get ready. Just don¡¯t lose the book.¡±


    ¡°But what if someone sees me?¡±


    ¡°They can¡¯t¡ª¡± There was a sudden silence. After a moment, Mister said, ¡°That guy didn¡¯t see you. You know that, right?¡±


    That guy. Mister always called Kirby ¡°that guy.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I know,¡± Sammy mumbled.


    ¡°The fact he found you was my fault. I said I was sorry, right? And I took care of it. If something goes wrong, I¡¯ll take care of it.¡±


    ¡°Is that plan D?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about any plan D. That¡¯s my job. You know that. If everything goes to hell, if it all goes wrong, what do you do?¡±


    ¡°Hold still, stay quiet.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got a plan though, right?¡±


    ¡°Sure. I¡¯ve got a million plans.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your plan if it all goes wrong?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s plan D¡ªthe one you don¡¯t have to worry about. All you have to do is focus on your part of the job. You have to trust me, Sammy. Do you trust me?¡±


    Kirby held his breath.


    ¡°Yeah. I do.¡±


    If Sammy had hesitated, Kirby didn¡¯t hear it.

 Chapter 42 - The Heist

    The applause following Ellis Oliversen''s brief closing remarks echoed around the wide room, filling the space between the round tables, full of well-dressed witches and their various guests, and the lofted, glittering chandeliers. As the noise faded, Olivia glanced over her shoulder toward the line of doors at the side of the reception room. Her gaze had to move past several other tables. A few people glanced at her. When she noticed, she turned back to her table.


    The last of the applause changed into the gentle murmur of general conversation. Olivia didn¡¯t hear it. Her eyes took in the white of the table cloth, the shadow of the folds in her napkin, and the sparkle of the silverware, but she didn¡¯t really see them.


    Emerra was right, Olivia thought. Nothing is the worst that could happen.


    The young witch jumped when she felt a light touch on her arm.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± It was Owen Ashworth. He smiled. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to startle you.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Olivia said. ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°I meant to ask,¡± he nodded to the untouched place setting between Dr. Misserly and Rall Axton, ¡°is Miss Cole all right? She never joined us.¡±


    On Ashworth¡¯s other side, Nylah said, ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with her. She just didn¡¯t want to come.¡±


    Olivia was impressed with how effortless it was for her sister to take on that slight, scathing edge to her voice.


    It must be a habit.


    ¡°Oh?¡± Ashworth said.


    Olivia said with easy indifference¡ªanother habit, she thought¡ª¡°She said she¡¯d feel out of place at a formal dinner.¡±


    The sparks in Rall Axton¡¯s eyes danced with amusement. ¡°That¡¯s what she said, but I think the girl¡¯s got the right kind of head on her shoulders.¡± He leaned toward Misserly to grumble, ¡°She¡¯s out enjoying the street fair while we¡¯re stuck in here, ankles crossed, tugging at our ties.¡±


    Misserly nodded with complete sympathy, and his hand wandered toward his neck.


    In a musing voice, Ashworth repeated, ¡°She said she¡¯d feel out of place at a formal dinner¡­¡± He turned to Olivia, ¡°She¡¯s a bit difficult to read, isn¡¯t she?¡±


    Olivia felt a stab of impatience. Difficult to read? She¡¯s an idiot!¡ª


    But behind Ashworth''s casual manner there was a gravity that made Olivia hesitate.


    Memories flickered through her mind. The way Emerra listened. The two or three times she spoke in that quiet, intractable voice. The occasional intensity of her eyes. The times when Olivia had looked at Emerra and glimpsed an unexpected seriousness in her expression. It had seemed so natural and fit so well, Olivia had briefly wondered if it had always been there.


    ¡°Not a bit,¡± Rall said. ¡°Miss Cole likes to have fun, she likes people, and she¡¯s fortunate enough to not know what the phrase ''black tie optional'' means. She¡¯s no more difficult to read than a picture book.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s eyes accidentally met Nylah¡¯s. Her sister¡¯s mouth was drawn into a tight frown that was a mirror of her own.


    That annoyed Olivia even more.


    ¡°What do you think, Olivia?¡± Rall prompted.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure she¡¯d agree with you.¡± Olivia stood up. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me for a moment.¡±


    Olivia left the reception room, and stepped out into the lobby. As the door shut behind her, the noise of the party cut to almost nothing, and she was enveloped by the silence. Only the recessed line of lights above the front doors and the reception room doors were left on. The back half of the lobby and the halls beyond it were kept dark to discourage guests from exploring. Between the sudden quiet and the dim lighting that threw shadows on top of more shadows, Olivia felt as if she''d escaped into a secluded corner removed from reality.


    She had to look around for a few seconds before she noticed Big Jacky standing a few feet off to the side, out of the way of the reception room doors. She walked over to him.


    ¡°Anything yet?¡± she asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Jacky said. ¡°This is a much harder job than I thought it would be.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°It seems as if half the guests have left the room at one time or another. Why would a gentleman excuse himself from the table, go to the restroom, and then wander around the lobby for five minutes before returning to his seat?¡±


    ¡°Because no one likes to listen to speeches. Did he leave anything lying around?¡±


    ¡°No. And I don¡¯t know how many people may have come and gone while I was watching him.¡±


    The reasoning had been simple¡ªbecause of the outer wards, the invisible person had to come in the front door, but they wouldn¡¯t be able to get past security if they were carrying the still-visible tool they¡¯d created to pop the inner ward. That meant their partner had to be in the building, and they¡¯d have to drop the tool off somewhere before the evening was over.


    The reasoning was simple¡ªbut that didn¡¯t necessarily mean it was right.


    The whole building had been searched before the dinner, and Jacky had tried to keep an eye on everyone coming and going, but the night was almost over and they¡¯d found nothing. It was enough to set Olivia¡¯s teeth on edge.


    ¡°It¡¯s all right, Mr. Noctis,¡± she lied. ¡°We know they like to work at night. Maybe they¡¯ll drop it off on their way out.¡±


    ¡°That would be problematic,¡± Jacky observed.


    Olivia pretended not to hear him. He was right, of course. Once the stream of people started moving, they wouldn¡¯t have enough eyes to watch everyone. But there was nothing they could do about that.


    Olivia¡¯s dismal thoughts were interrupted when the dull, distant sounds of a struggle happening outside the front doors grew louder. Her shoulders tightened, and her eyes flew to the entryway.


    Several extra security personnel, all dressed in the same black suits, were gathered around a single figure who was trying to push them off.


    Jacky and Olivia hurried over to the door. They were joined by two other security guards. When Olivia slammed open one of the doors, the muted sounds became shouting and raised voices.


    Olivia stayed in the doorway and called over them, ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    The security stepped away to reveal a woman in jeans and a coat. Her face was flushed.


    ¡°Olivia!¡± she cried.


    ¡°Stephanie?¡±


    ¡°You know her?¡± Jacky asked.


    Stephanie¡¯s eyes were fixed on Olivia¡¯s face. ¡°You have to get your mother. Nobody¡¯s answering their phones and these hired jackals won¡¯t listen to me!¡±


    The highest-ranking security guard tried to defend the honor of his crew: ¡°Miss, we were told that no one was allowed in without an invitation.¡±


    There were footsteps behind Olivia and Jacky, and a wash of expensive perfume rolled over them. A matronly woman with short gray hair, wearing a burgundy chiffon dress and matching jacket, opened the door beside them. She demanded to know if there was a problem in a voice that made it clear to everyone that they should do their damnedest to ensure the answer was no.


    Stephanie¡¯s distress dissolved into relief. ¡°Mrs. Irvine! Thank god.¡±


    ¡°Miss Adams!¡± The older woman paled. ¡°Is everything all right?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Stephanie tried to jerk her arm away from the security guard still holding her.


    ¡°Let her go!¡± Irvine ordered. The man obliged. ¡°Now what¡¯s going on?¡±


    For a second, Stephanie¡¯s lips disappeared when she pressed them together. Her eyes moved from Irvine, to Olivia and Jacky, to the guards still surrounding her in a loose circle.


    ¡°Can we talk somewhere private?¡± she asked.


    Olivia turned and dove back into ARC Hall. Jacky fell in step beside her. As they passed the reception room, the doors beside them opened, one after another, and a steady trickle of people emptied into the lobby.


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    Olivia swore under her breath, then said, ¡°You better go warn my mother.¡±


    Big Jacky disappeared.


    Olivia ignored the crowd and continued toward the back hallways. Someone grabbed her arm. She turned.


    It was Nylah.


    ¡°What are you doing out here?¡± her sister hissed. ¡°The dinner¡¯s over. Half the people are leaving to claim a spot for the fireworks!¡±


    ¡°We missed them, Nylah.¡±


    Nylah¡¯s irritation disappeared. ¡°They¡¯re already inside?¡±


    ¡°Stephanie Adams was about to take out half the security guards to talk to mother. I saw the look on her face. That ward is gone.¡±


    ¡°But I thought they¡¯d wait until night to make their move!¡±


    ¡°I know. They must have thought they¡¯d have a better chance of escaping in the crowd.¡±


    Nylah looked over the stream of people heading for the front doors. The unintelligible babble grew. A thousand movements and a hundred colors never allowed her eyes to rest.


    ¡°They might be right,¡± Nylah said.


    The two witches turned and marched deeper into the darkened building.


    It had worked. Each time a new part of the plan fell into place, first try¡ªclick!¡ªlike a domino, Sammy felt a happy glow shoot through him. This was what it was supposed to be like.


    He had the book in his hand, and he knew what he had to do. He just had to get it right.


    But he couldn¡¯t keep his mind where it should¡¯ve been.


    He¡¯d double checked that it was the right book. He¡¯d wiped the needle-tool, just like Mister had told him too, and he¡¯d left immediately.


    The witches would be coming.


    He should¡¯ve been focusing on the next step.


    Plan A. Get to the front door.


    But his mind kept circling back to everything he¡¯d done before. Once he stopped in the middle of the hall to check, again, if he¡¯d gotten the right book, and he almost turned back in a panic to wipe his fingerprints from the tool even though he was sure he¡¯d already wiped them.


    The fear made him feel like a bird was trapped in his chest, fluttering around in a panic, trying to escape. He was going to mess it up. He didn¡¯t know how, but he knew he would. First the blind guy. Then the last time he¡¯d tried to get the book.


    ¡°Bad things come in threes.¡±


    His brother had always said that. Then he¡¯d laugh and clap Sammy on the shoulder. ¡°Except us,¡± he¡¯d add. ¡°We come as a pair.¡±


    Sammy had learned to force a smile, even though the joke always made him confused and sad.


    He shook his head. It didn¡¯t matter if he was scared. All he had to do was follow the plans.


    Mister was right¡ªthe witches were coming. When Sammy heard them, he walked over to the side, put the book down on the floor, pressed himself against the wall, and held still.


    One of the witches was holding her hand up, casting a bluish light over the scene. He recognized her. The redhead.


    Mister had shown him her picture. Sammy knew he needed to look out for her. He held his breath as they passed.


    They didn¡¯t even glance his way.


    Sammy smiled and picked up the book.


    When he reached the opening to the main lobby, he hesitated. There was a whole crowd milling around, and two people were waiting by each front door. They must have been the security. They were dressed in black and facing into the building. Each time their eyes swept over the spot where Sammy stood, the bird in his chest fluttered again.


    He backed away.


    Plan B. Leave by any other door.


    Sammy hated alarms, but he couldn¡¯t get out the front.


    It¡¯ll be okay, he told himself. Just follow the plan.


    Twice he had to move to the side or into a doorway as more women in dresses hurried by. Each time he held his breath, and each time they walked past him without pausing.


    The witches can¡¯t see me.


    He wanted to laugh. Mister had warned him they were powerful, but if they couldn¡¯t see what was going on, there was nothing they could do.


    He turned a corner, toward one of the other exits he¡¯d found, but his steps faltered. At the end of the hall, standing in front of the emergency door with a window set in it, was a young woman. He could see her silhouette coming from the dim light outside.


    She had been standing with her arms crossed, gazing toward him, frowning, but when he came around the corner, she unfolded her arms and her hands went to her hips.


    Sammy froze.


    Her frown deepened, and her eyes narrowed.


    Stop where you are. Hold still. Be quiet.


    A tense minute crept by. The lights came on overhead, and he could see her. A brunette. She looked fierce. Behind Sammy, he could hear a distant commotion, but neither he nor the witch moved. He was close enough to hear her when she muttered a curse. She held her hands a few inches out from her sides and turned her palms toward him.


    What¡¯s she doing?


    The air around him gradually cooled until it was crisp enough it hurt to breathe. Goosebumps covered every inch of his body. The brunette¡¯s roving eyes settled on the space where he was standing, shivering. He saw her smile, and saw the cloud of her breath when she said, ¡°Found you.¡±


    Her breath. He could see her breath.


    Sammy turned and ran. He didn¡¯t care if she saw the book. He needed to get away from the cold. He heard her yell something behind him, and he felt a shiver run horizontally through his body, as if he¡¯d been cut in two by a bladeless sword. Dizziness flooded his brain, sloshing around, making his stomach churn.


    When his head cleared enough he could raise his eyes, he saw the witch approaching, her hands raised. He rushed her, knocking her hard against the wall. She let out a grunt and fell.


    Without waiting to see if she¡¯d get up, Sammy staggered down the hall, occasionally leaning against the wall for support.


    Nylah pushed herself up and searched for any hint of where the thief might be. At the end of the hall, she glimpsed movement and the fading mist of his breath.


    She gingerly pushed herself off the floor and to her feet. She¡¯d managed to hex him. She was sure of it. It¡¯d been a dispersed spell, so it wouldn¡¯t last long or do any real damage, but it would leave a trace. Now the other witches would be able to sense him.


    Most of the other witches.


    Nylah pulled out her phone and dialed.


    ¡°Olivia, I just ran into our invisible thief. He might be headed your way. Look out for him.¡±


    Olivia hung up and tucked her phone back in her pocket. If the thief was coming toward her, she wanted both hands free to better impress upon him how foolhardy it was to mess with her town, her coven, and her friends.


    She stared toward the main hall of the building, begrudging every time she had to blink. Everything was still. The door behind her led to the outside. She could feel the cool air resting against her back, raising goosebumps on her arms. The air in front of her carried the faint scent of books. Her ears strained to hear anything other than the murmur of the witches in the archives and her own breathing.


    Her heart gave a start when she saw the grimoire¡¯s shadow moving unsteadily across the floor toward her.


    That tiny glimpse of motion was all she¡¯d been waiting for.


    Olivia pulled a handful of dried thorns out of her pocket and threw them in an arc, scattering them across the hall. When she raised her hands, coiling branches erupted from where they¡¯d fallen and curled along the floor, every inch of them covered in fresh reddish-pink thorns.


    Halfway between her and the main hall, two of the thick tendrils coiled upward, climbing an unseen form. The book hovered nearby.


    Olivia squeezed her hands closed. The tangle of thorns constricted, scraping along the wooden floors. She listened for the thief to cry out.


    There was no sound, but the book fluttered and dropped.


    Olivia kept one hand clutched tight. She turned the other until her palm was facing her, then drew it to her shoulder.


    The coils of thorns under the grimoire rolled toward her, carrying their prize.


    The two pillars of thorns lifted away from the floor, one after the other. The branches strained, then broke, snapping off with frayed edges before falling to dust.


    ¡°No!¡± Olivia cried.


    It shouldn¡¯t have been possible. How big was this thief? How strong did you have to be to snap those vines by pulling your legs out?


    Olivia ran for the grimoire. The thorns parted before her feet.


    The thief was running as well. She could see the plants twitching under his weight. He was closer to the book, but he was running over thorns to reach it. She would get there first.


    She snatched it from the branches and stood up straight with her teeth bared in a grin.


    In her ear, a deep, low, sorrowful voice said, ¡°Please don¡¯t.¡±


    Her breath caught and her heart stalled. He was so close that the shock made her fingers go slack.


    The book was ripped from her hands to hover in the air, only inches away. Before she could react, an invisible arm slammed across her chest, knocking her back.


    When her body hit the floor, the coils of thorns exploded into a cloud of dust.


    Olivia coughed and rolled to her side. She could hear footsteps. She saw the dust, unsettled by his tread. He was running toward the exit that had been behind her, but she couldn¡¯t tell where he was.


    No!


    The word, part command, part panic, echoed in her head.


    Ignoring her smarting shoulders and aching head, Olivia shoved herself off the floor, onto her knees, raised her hand, and shouted out a brief incantation.


    Sammy heard her yell. He turned in time to see the witch curl into a ball with her back to the ceiling and her hands covering her head.


    Behind him, near the exit, the ceiling light exploded, and the light went dead.


    There was only one loud heartbeat before the next light in the line, coming toward him, exploded. Then the next. Then the next. The darkness was advancing in bursts, accompanied by the sound of glass raining to the floor.


    Sammy sprinted back the way he¡¯d come in a race to get away from the devastation.


    He cleared the hall as the last eruption threw shards at his heels.


    The brunette was coming toward him. She was almost to the intersection where the side halls met the main hall.


    Sammy had nowhere else to go. He turned right, down the last long hall that led to the back of the building. Considering how the other two were guarded, he half expected to see another witch, running to see what had happened, but there was no one there.


    Over his shoulder, he heard the brunette scream, ¡°Olivia!¡±


    ¡°No! I¡¯m fine. Just¡ªstay there!¡±


    Sammy didn¡¯t stay to hear any more. He ran for the exit. His feet ached with every hurried step, but he ignored the pain. He wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d outrun all the glass. If he¡¯d been cut, he had to get out before his blood dried and became visible.


    He saw the door¡ªEmergency Exit Only.


    A desperate laugh bubbled up in his chest, and tears built up at the edges of his eyes. He¡¯d made it! He¡¯d taken on two witches and made it out alive!


    He wrapped his arms around the book and squeezed it to his chest. They¡¯d tried to take it from him, and he¡¯d stopped them! Now he was only a few feet away from freedom. A whole year without having to learn any more plans. A whole year where he wouldn¡¯t have to steal anything.


    He didn¡¯t slow down. He put out a shaky hand, slammed into the cross bar, and stepped out into the night.


    A skeletal hand reached out and pulled the door shut behind him.


    Outside, Sammy stopped short. His weight settled between his tortured feet, making them burn where the thorns had done damage. He didn¡¯t notice. His thoughts had come to a standstill.


    The snow resting on the dormant hedges around him reflected the white light from the nearby street lamp, making him feel as if he was standing in a spotlight. The night beyond was nothing but darkness.


    Between him and the darkness was a line of eight people. Seven of them were wearing dark suits. The last one was wearing a police officer¡¯s uniform. Under the harsh light, the exaggerated shadows made everything about them appear magnified and dramatic. Their guns looked like seven small black holes, pointed right at him.


    The man wearing a long coat¡ªthe only one without a gun¡ªsaid, ¡°Emerra?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right there, Darius.¡±


    Sammy looked around to see who¡¯d answered.


    On a short brick wall off to the right sat a skinny bald girl. She was pointing right at him. When their eyes met, she winked and said with a smile, ¡°Hey.¡±

 Chapter 43 - Plan D

    I don¡¯t know what I thought our kidnapper-slash-thieves would look like, but I know I didn¡¯t picture someone like him.


    He was big. Not Conrad-big, but big enough. Six foot, five inches, I¡¯d guess around two hundred and fifty pounds. He had muscle under what looked like a healthy padding of baby fat, and I could see it all, because the poor guy was completely naked. His dark hair stood off his head as if it was growing out from a shorter cut. His patchy beard had that same unkempt look, like he usually went clean shaven, but hadn¡¯t seen a razor in months.


    He can¡¯t shave, I realized. He can¡¯t see himself.


    Sure. A big, naked, wild guy was standing outside ARC Hall on a cold February night. That¡¯s not what surprised me about him.


    What surprised me was his expression. It managed to look soft and scared at the same time. He reminded me of a child.


    When he realized I could see him, his confusion had dissolved into nothing¡ªa blankness¡ªthen that nothing changed into a frown that reached into the heart of the deepest brown eyes I¡¯d ever seen.


    ¡°Emerra, what¡¯s he doing?¡± Darius asked.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I said. ¡°He¡¯s waiting.¡±


    ¡°Describe him.¡±


    I did, minus the naked part and the bit about how he reminded me of a child.


    When Darius heard the description, he took out his phone and opened up a photo. ¡°Are you ready?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said.


    I had one job¡ªkeep an eye on our thief¡ªso Darius only held the screen in front of my face for a second. It was all I needed. The photo showed the exact same big brown eyes.


    ¡°Is that the man you see in front of you?¡± the count asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said.


    ¡°Good.¡± Darius put his phone away. ¡°Leslie Sams, you¡¯re under arrest for your participation in tonight¡¯s burglary and in connection with a series of burglaries that have occurred over the past four months¡ª¡±


    ¡°Darius,¡± I said.


    The vampire glanced at me.


    ¡°Can you get him a coat or something? I mean, it¡¯s freezing out here.¡±


    He raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Please?¡±


    Darius moved his phone to his pants pocket and took off his coat. I knew Leslie Sams wasn¡¯t going to fight him, but I kept an eye on him anyway. When Jack Noctis and Darius Vasil tell you that you have only one job, you make extra sure to do it right.


    As Darius moved in closer, he didn¡¯t need me to tell him where Mr. Sams was. He could follow the sound of the man¡¯s heartbeat. Darius held his coat out with one hand, and held out his other hand to take the book. It took Sams a second to break out of his statue routine. He gave Darius the grimoire and took the coat. It didn¡¯t fit him, but he threw it around his shoulders after a shy glance my direction.


    It was so sad, it was almost funny. The man was staring down a half circle of Torr enforcement personnel and Officer Ansel; modesty should¡¯ve been the least of his concerns.


    As the coat settled over his shoulders, there was a subtle shift in where the guns were aimed. Now they had something concrete to focus on, rather than in the vague direction I was pointing.


    Darius stepped back and started explaining what rights Mr. Sams had. It sounded normal up until he recited the part about expecting them to use deadly force because he was using magic during the commission of a crime and how all unexpected movement would be interpreted as a threat.


    I had no intention of interrupting Darius again, but I could¡¯ve told him he was wasting his breath. Sams wasn¡¯t going to move. He wasn¡¯t going to say anything either. He pressed his thick lips together, and I knew that all the Oliversens combined wouldn¡¯t have the power to pry them apart. His right to remain silent had been invoked.


    I wondered what Sams would do when Darius asked him if he understood his rights, but before we got that far, the count suddenly stopped talking and held up his hand, warning us all to be silent.


    He turned around to wait.


    I had a decent idea how good Count Vasil¡¯s hearing was, so I wasn¡¯t surprised by how long it took for me to hear what he¡¯d been hearing.


    Someone was coming along the back wall of ARC Hall. We could hear him occasionally whispering, ¡°Sammy!¡±


    When he passed through the ward, ripples of indigo light cascaded away from him until they faded to nothing. He staggered to a halt and stared at the scene around him.


    I let out a heavy sigh, but I could still feel a weight resting high in my chest. This was another one of those not-surprised-still-surprised moments. I wasn¡¯t surprised by who it was. I was surprised by my disappointment.


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    ¡°Good evening, Dr. Misserly,¡± I said. ¡°I wondered if you¡¯d be joining us.¡±


    His eyes riveted on me.


    Darius said, ¡°Emerra, would you care to introduce us?¡±


    I slid off the wall I¡¯d been sitting on. ¡°Certainly. Darius, this is Dr. Cameron Misserly. He¡¯s an alchemist. Dr. Misserly, this is Agent Darius Vasil from the FBI.¡±


    Misserly tried to step back. A bright blue light flared behind him.


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s not just an illusion,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s a reverse ward built into it. You couldn¡¯t see in, and you can¡¯t get out. ¡±


    Darius motioned to his coat and asked Misserly, ¡°Do you know this gentleman?¡±


    Misserly didn¡¯t answer. His eyes were wide, and he kept licking his lips.


    ¡°We heard you calling his name,¡± Vasil said.


    I felt my shoulders tighten and I had to focus to keep from squeezing my fingers with my other hand. This whole trap had been a risk from start to finish, but we¡¯d made it through every bad moment until we were here¡ªthe last wager.


    Jacky had warned us that he hadn¡¯t seen who brought in the tool used to pop the ward. That meant that, at the moment, we had no direct evidence linking Misserly to the crime. It didn¡¯t take much to get from Sams to Sammy, but Darius was still stretching to get there.


    I wished I could look as relaxed as him when I was bluffing.


    I glanced back at Sams¡ªor, Sammy. Sammy seemed to fit him better.


    He stood there, motionless, his lips pressed shut. The expression on his face was still sad, but his eyes were alive while they watched Misserly. It looked like he was hoping for something. I couldn¡¯t imagine what.


    All Misserly had to do was lie through his teeth, deny everything, and walk away. That would give him plenty of time to deal with any evidence left at his hideout while Vasil tried to find a Torr judge willing to give him a warrant for probable cause. My stomach knotted at the thought. Kirby was part of that evidence. Nothing in the world could save Sammy.


    But still he watched his partner, hoping.


    I looked at Misserly. Behind his eyes, I could see the lines of thought snaking out before him like sizzling golden threads. They raced through a maze, branching off, taking turn after turn. He was testing them all, abandoning one after another when it didn''t lead where he wanted to go. Then he found one who''s end was lost in the darkness beyond the maze walls. He gripped it and pulled. It pulled back. The temptation of it dragged on every cell in his body. His jaw tightened in the real world at the same time I saw his grip tighten around the line.


    And I saw the invisible presence, standing behind him. It never touched him. It never spoke. But it was there.


    The golden line dissolved the moment he let it go.


    His lips twitched back in a lopsided smile, and his breath came out as a silent laugh.


    He raised his eyes and looked right at Darius Vasil. ¡°I want it understood, Sammy¡¯s innocent.¡±


    Sammy¡¯s body jerked. He went to take a step forward¡ªI almost yelled to warn him, but Misserly beat me to it.


    ¡°Stop it, Sammy! Everything¡¯s gone to hell. What do you do?¡±


    Sammy immediately went back to being a statue.


    Misserly said to Darius, ¡°Sammy acted under threat. I told him that I was the only one who could turn him visible again, and I told him I would do it only if he agreed to help me. He¡¯s done nothing wrong.¡±


    ¡°Are you admitting that you¡¯re complicit in the burglary that took place tonight?¡± Darius asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you that I planned, arranged, and executed the entire thing using Leslie Sams as a victim and a hostage.¡±


    I looked at the victim and hostage, Leslie Sams. All the hope was gone from his face, leaving nothing but sorrow. His lips were no longer pressed together; the bottom one was quivering.


    Geez. I was having my heart broken by a naked thief.


    ¡°Are you willing to make a statement?¡± Darius asked.


    ¡°On the condition that Sammy isn¡¯t arrested.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t agree to that, Dr. Misserly. I¡¯ve already put Leslie Sams under arrest.¡±


    ¡°Then he wants a lawyer. Sammy, listen to me! You want a lawyer. Don¡¯t say anything until you have a lawyer.¡±


    Sammy nodded. I was the only one who saw it.


    Darius said, ¡°Dr. Misserly, Officer Ansel and I will take you into the police station to get your statement in a minute, but first, do you know where Nolan Kirby is?¡±


    Misserly took a deep breath. His shoulders sagged as he let it out. ¡°He¡¯s back at the house I rented. It¡¯s outside of town. I have the address in my phone.¡±


    Darius nodded to one of the Torr boys. He moved over to Misserly. The alchemist handed him his phone and briefly talked him through how to unlock it. As the enforcement officer worked, Cameron raised his head and looked up at what, to him, must have looked like an empty coat.


    Darius Vasil passed the grimoire off to someone else, took out a set of handcuffs, and walked toward Sammy. ¡°Emerra.¡±


    I pulled my eyes away from Misserly and followed him.


    Getting Sammy cuffed with his arms behind his back didn¡¯t take long. I was there to give a shout if he did something like raise his other hand while Darius was cuffing the first one, but when the count was done, I didn¡¯t move away.


    Darius put his coat back around Sammy¡¯s shoulders while saying to me, ¡°Are you willing to stay with him until we can get things settled?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± I said. ¡°Just make sure someone gets Kirby, okay?¡±


    Vasil nodded and stepped over to talk to Ansel.


    I stood shoulder to shoulder with Leslie Sams and together we watched everyone move around us. One guard had been left to make sure that Sammy didn¡¯t go anywhere. Considering I was there and Darius was only three yards away, we didn¡¯t really need him. I told him he could put his gun away.


    Ellis Oliversen was the first witch to arrive. She dismantled the ward we¡¯d used as a cover and confirmed the grimoire belonged to the coven. Nylah and Olivia showed up a minute after that. Olivia dropped to her knees when Darius told her that two enforcement officers were already on their way to pick up Kirby. With shaking hands she pulled out her phone. I was too far away to hear her talking, but I knew that she was calling Autumn to give her the good news.


    Overhead, there was a whistle, then a firework burst into a rain of green sparks.


    ¡°The fireworks have started,¡± I said.


    That was prime-idiot talk, and I knew it. I couldn¡¯t help myself. In a world where everyday things happen every day, there must be someone who observes it, or else everything would fall into chaos. In the summer, I say it¡¯s hot. In the winter, I mention when it¡¯s snowing. God help me, if I ever walked into a cave, I would be compelled to point out that it was dark, and I¡¯d probably do it even if I was alone. Some people are called by fate to forever state the obvious.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sammy turn his head to look at me.


    I looked up at him. ¡°I¡¯m Emerra. You¡¯re Sammy, right?¡±


    He nodded.


    I turned my attention back to the sky. There was a blue burst, followed by a white one that sizzled as it drifted down.


    ¡°Do you like fireworks?¡± I asked.


    I was only trying to show him that I was friendly. I didn¡¯t expect him to answer, but he did. Kind of.


    ¡°Can you see them?¡± he asked.


    I glanced at him. He was completely serious. ¡°You mean the fireworks?¡±


    He nodded.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± A smile crept onto my face. ¡°Does that surprise you?¡±


    ¡°I thought you might be blind,¡± he mumbled.


    My heart lurched. Me and Kirby. Those were the two people who¡¯d seen him, even when he was invisible.


    ¡°Not more than most,¡± I told him. ¡°And a little less than some.¡±

 Chapter 44 - Home Again

    ¡°I talked to Tracy before I came over,¡± Autumn said. ¡°It was Cameron Misserly that was asking about you. I described him to her.¡±


    Olivia nodded as if the information was nothing new or surprising.


    The only thing I was surprised by was the fact that Tracy thought Misserly qualified as handsome. I mean, he wasn¡¯t bad, but¡­handsome?


    Then again, I¡¯d only ever seen him standing next to Ashworth. And I was probably prejudiced against him since he¡¯d betrayed our slovenly camaraderie by turning out to be the kidnapper.


    It was around nine o¡¯ clock the next day. Autumn, Olivia, Jacky and I were all waiting in the alley behind Kirby¡¯s store. Darius had called Olivia at eight to let her know that Ansel was bringing Kirby home that morning, and she¡¯d wasted no time calling Autumn.


    We¡¯d arrived in the alley no later than eight-twenty, and had been burning the anxious minutes away by talking about the case.


    Autumn said, ¡°Was he going to keep what he stole for himself?¡±


    When Darius had found out that Autumn had been with us since the beginning, he accepted the idea that she had the right to a few answers, but he¡¯d asked us to impress upon her the value of ¡°being reserved with information¡±¡ªmeaning, he didn¡¯t want it to get out that an alchemist had transformed someone by turning them invisible. If the other alchemists found out it was possible, half of them would rush out to try to figure out how it was done.


    I told him that Autumn was a witch, and that witches knew all about the value of being reserved. It was practically an obsession with them.


    The only thing we weren¡¯t allowed to tell Autumn was exactly what Misserly and Sammy had been trying to steal. That was still considered a coven secret. When we explained the situation, Autumn had accepted the restriction without comment.


    She¡¯d been around witches enough, she knew not to question the obsession.


    ¡°No,¡± Jacky said. ¡°When Misserly was given the chance to attend the Besom Days Festival in Reynell¡¯s place, he started fishing for anyone who might pay him to steal something. A witch from another coven replied to his post.¡±


    That was why Cosmo had shown up at the cocktail party. Part of Torr security keeps an eye on the areas of the dark web that are involved with magic. They caught wind of the arrangement and brought it to Cosmo¡¯s attention. He didn¡¯t know who the thief was or how they thought they could get past the security, but he knew their target.


    Autumn shook her head. ¡°Damn witches.¡±


    Olivia grunted her heartfelt agreement. I grinned.


    Jacky went on, ¡°Misserly needed the money badly. The lineage of instruction for experimental investigators was broken long ago. He didn¡¯t have the support of a mentor, and he couldn¡¯t get a standard loan to fund his work. He had to borrow money from other people.¡±


    ¡°The kind of people that shoot your leg if you don¡¯t pay on time,¡± I said.


    I didn¡¯t know if that was strictly accurate, but I did know that loan sharks were involved, and I wasn¡¯t about to ruin a good story with research.


    ¡°So he was using Leslie Sams?¡± Autumn asked.


    My stomach twisted.


    ¡°Almost certainly,¡± Jacky said.


    I had been there when they took Sammy in. I¡¯d told Ansel I¡¯d sit in the cell with him, but she and Darius had both raised their voices to explain to me, in blunt terms, why that was a stupid idea. I didn¡¯t argue. They couldn¡¯t see him, so they wouldn¡¯t understand. Instead I waited on a chair outside his cell.


    Misserly was in the cell next to him. I caught him glancing at me occasionally. When I raised my eyes, his lips would thin as he pressed them together.


    When Ansel came to get him, Misserly jumped to his feet.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Sammy¡¯s lawyer?¡± he demanded.


    Ansel used her magic and her key to unlock his cell. ¡°Mr. Sams hasn¡¯t asked for a lawyer.¡±


    ¡°Sammy!¡±


    Sammy looked up from the floor, his face slack with sorrow. ¡°I want a lawyer,¡± he mumbled.


    ¡°There.¡± Misserly glared at Ansel.


    She exchanged glances with me, then sighed. ¡°The Torr will appoint him a lawyer, but it may take a while for them to arrive.¡±


    ¡°Then he won¡¯t say anything until they get here. Will you, Sammy?¡±


    Sammy mumbled, even quieter, ¡°I won¡¯t say anything until they¡¯re here.¡± He went back to staring at the floor, his fingers interlaced, his head bowed.


    Ansel nearly growled, ¡°Come on, Dr. Misserly.¡± She pulled him from his cell and escorted him out of the room.


    When the door closed behind them, I whispered, ¡°He cares about you, you know. That¡¯s why he wants you to have a lawyer. He¡¯s going to try to save you, Sammy.¡±


    And Sammy had licked his lips and said, so softly I had to strain to hear him, even in the silence of the room, ¡°But he said he was using me.¡±


    Would anyone be able to see his tears, or only me?


    Rall was right: power was part of what defined a relationship. But it wasn¡¯t everything.


    Autumn put her hand on my arm, drawing me away from my memories. ¡°Are you all right, honey?¡±


    I took a deep breath. ¡°Yeah. Sorry. I had a late night last night.¡±


    Autumn put her arm around me and squeezed my shoulders.


    Olivia said to Jacky, ¡°What will happen to Sams?¡±


    ¡°In the long term, that¡¯s something the courts will have to decide. For now the Torr is making arrangements to have him kept secure and comfortable while they try to find a way to undo the transformation process.¡±


    ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll be able to?¡±


    ¡°Misserly has agreed to help them. With the doctor¡¯s assistance, it should be possible.¡±


    ¡°And Misserly?¡± I asked.


    Jacky said, ¡°I suspect he¡¯ll be going to prison for a very long time.¡±


    ¡°I thought he was cooperating,¡± Autumn said.


    ¡°He is, but he and Sams have been working together for a while and their crimes are numerous.¡±


    The phone call Big Jacky had made, back in Mrs. Irvine¡¯s office, had been to Agent Darius Vasil. He explained the situation and asked for advice. Darius skipped the advice and told Jacky that he¡¯d be down there in three hours with his own Torr enforcement unit. The moment Darius heard about the possibility of an invisible man, he had a suspicion, bordering on certainty, that we were after the same thief he was.


    They¡¯d picked up a partial fingerprint from an earlier heist and had tentatively matched it to Leslie Sams, but no one had seen him for months.


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    Imagine that.


    ¡°Did you ever suspect Misserly?¡± Autumn asked.


    ¡°It was kind of hard not to,¡± I said. ¡°The second you think that someone out there is building a magical tool to help them with a robbery, you kind of start looking around for an alchemist.¡±


    ¡°But we didn¡¯t really know it was him,¡± Olivia explained. ¡°Witches and sorcerers also build tools. They¡¯re just not famous for them.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why we set up the trap,¡± Jacky added.


    ¡°A trap?¡± Autumn said.


    Jacky explained our original plan¡ªhow we¡¯d hoped to get a witness who could testify about who¡¯d brought in the tool, and a witness who saw Sams use it.


    ¡°We wanted to get as much evidence against them as possible,¡± Jacky said, ¡°and for Kirby¡¯s safety, we wanted to pick them up together. Unfortunately, they acted much sooner than we thought they would, and the tool was smaller than we¡¯d anticipated.¡±


    It was Barnaby¡¯s jug that fooled us. During the briefing with the security team, Darius had explained that the jug probably wasn¡¯t going to be used in the tool itself, but I think it subconsciously set the expectation for how big it might be. I know that I had pictured something about half that size.


    But Misserly had only needed the jug to store the magic before he fed it into the iron he used like a battery. The stupid thing, minus the needle and switch, was no larger than a cell phone. He waltzed into ARC Hall with it sitting in his pocket and dropped it off before we even realized he was there.


    It was a clever little device, and there wasn¡¯t a witch that had seen it who wasn¡¯t furious that it existed. Olivia had gone home and filled up four pages in her notebook, brainstorming ways to keep it from working on her wards.


    Jacky said, ¡°Fortunately we had a back-up plan. We blocked off all the exits but one and left our Torr enforcement team and Officer Ansel waiting behind it with a capture ward in place.¡±


    ¡°Why would you make them wait outside?¡± Autumn asked.


    ¡°We were trying to minimize the risk of Sams escaping. Some of our Torr enforcement personnel had special talents that would¡¯ve been useful for catching Sams¡ª¡±


    I tried to look as un-special as possible in case Autumn glanced my way.


    ¡°¡ªbut that wasn¡¯t true for all of them. If we¡¯d put the team inside the building, Sams would''ve seen them long before the majority of the team would have been able to figure out where he was, and he had a distinct advantage if there was a chase.¡±


    Autumn Langley let out a loud sigh. ¡°Well, it worked.¡±


    ¡°We got lucky,¡± Olivia grumbled.


    Autumn¡¯s smile lit up her face. ¡°We did.¡±


    Olivia saw her friend¡¯s expression, and her scowl relaxed into a faint smile. The redhead probably hated to rely on luck, but in this case, she could appreciate that it was the outcome that was important.


    Thinking of Kirby must have jogged something in Autumn¡¯s memory. She asked, ¡°Did you ever learn why they¡¯d broken into Kirby¡¯s store?¡±


    Olivia and Jacky glanced at each other to see if the other one knew the answer.


    I said, ¡°I did.¡±


    Everyone looked at me.


    I scuffed at the water left in the bottom of our mushy blob of melted footprints. ¡°There¡¯s a rare plant that Misserly needs to create the formula he used to transform Sammy. When they heard there was an apothecary who specialized in magical plants, they thought it¡¯d be worth looking around.¡±


    ¡°Was he going to try to turn himself invisible next?¡± Autumn asked.


    ¡°He said he needed it to help him create the formula that would turn Sammy back to normal.¡±


    They reacted about the way I had¡ªwith a whole lot of thoughtful silence.


    It explained why the break-in at Kirby¡¯s had happened so much earlier than anything else; it wasn''t a part of their theft at ARC Hall. But it also meant that Misserly had already been looking for ways to help Sammy.


    I wondered how he''d spin that into the narrative he''d been feeding Darius and Ansel.


    We all looked over when the police car turned into the alley.


    Olivia and Autumn stepped forward while Jacky and I hung back.


    Ansel stopped the car a few feet away from where we were waiting, and Kirby, who was riding beside her in the front, opened his door and emerged with his red-tipped long white cane in hand. He seemed shaky, and his shoulders drooped a bit, but otherwise he looked exactly as he had in my vision.


    ¡°Nolan!¡± Autumn cried and ran toward him.


    He turned at the sound of her voice. ¡°Autumn!¡±


    She took his arm to let him know she was there. When he felt it, he grabbed her forearm and pulled her into a fierce hug. They held each other, laughing and trying to speak, but their words came out garbled because both of them were crying too hard. Autumn pulled back to wipe Kirby¡¯s tears away. He laughed at the useless gesture. It was like trying to wipe away a line of water from a running faucet.


    Olivia walked up to them at a more sedate pace, and stopped a few feet away to allow them their time together.


    By then they¡¯d gotten enough control of themselves that I could make out what they were saying.


    ¡°I heard you were looking for me,¡± Kirby teased.


    ¡°Every stupid day you were gone,¡± Autumn said with a sob.


    ¡°Worrywart.¡±


    ¡°I had to call in Olivia! That means you scared her too, you thoughtless brute.¡±


    ¡°Olivia?¡±


    Olivia said quietly, ¡°Hello, Kirby.¡±


    Kirby turned his head. ¡°Olivia! You¡¯re here!¡± He held out his arm toward her.


    She didn¡¯t need any more invitation than that. She walked over and was scooped up in an embrace big enough to capture both her and her former mentor. Kirby¡¯s tears were flowing even faster. He held Olivia and Autumn like he was never going to let them go.


    The sight of it blurred when my own eyes teared up. I put a hand over my heart. Excessive happiness had filled it up so far that the darn thing was in danger of exploding.


    Kirby kissed Olivia¡¯s hair and Autumn¡¯s cheek. He groaned when they asked how he was doing. They laughed some more and cried some more, then Ansel had to break up the party by telling Kirby that she had to go, but she¡¯d be in touch. She handed him a copy of his key.


    Kirby thanked her too, but she refused his generous offer to join in the hug.


    Autumn proposed that they go inside. When Kirby came toward me and Jacky, Olivia introduced us and explained that we¡¯d come along to help find him.


    Kirby¡¯s smile was a thing to treasure.


    As he shook our hands, he told us how much it meant to him that we were friends with Olivia.


    Neither Olivia nor I bothered to correct him. We could be friends for a few minutes. That was Kirby¡¯s superpower.


    He opened the shop and told us all to come in. When Autumn, sounding exactly like the worrywart that Kirby accused her of being, asked if he wanted to go upstairs and lie down, he told her he¡¯d had enough rest at the hospital, and that he¡¯d been idle to the point of madness for twelve days. All he wanted to do was sit on his stool, in his shop, and be home.


    ¡°The stool¡¯s right where you left it,¡± Autumn said. ¡°I¡¯ll grab the watering can, and you better tell me and Olivia what to do because some of your plants need attention.¡±


    ¡°The plants!¡± Kirby cried.


    I stayed off to the side, happy to do nothing but watch. This was my reward.


    I looked away when I felt Big Jacky tap me on the shoulder. He motioned for me to follow him. We returned to the alley.


    ¡°What is it?¡± I asked.


    He said, ¡°I¡¯ve seen that Nolan Kirby made it safely home. Now I¡¯m afraid I must go.¡±


    My heart sank. ¡°Already? But we just got here!¡±


    ¡°I know, but I have urgent work that I¡¯ve been putting off.¡±


    ¡°Please, Jacky! A few more minutes! How often have you seen Olivia smile like that? I need to get a picture so I can use it for blackmail.¡±


    Jacky reached into his pocket. ¡°I have no intention of taking Olivia away so soon. I think this time is important to her.¡± He pulled out his car key and fob and held it up. ¡°You have your driver¡¯s license, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Comprehension dawned. ¡°You want me to drive home?¡±


    When I held out my hand, Jacky put the key in it. ¡°Stay as long as you like. Come home when you¡¯re ready.¡±


    A five-hour drive across several states. That would be the longest drive I¡¯d ever done. I felt a flutter of nerves, but Jacky was right about that time being important to Olivia.


    ¡°What happens if I wreck the car?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Try to avoid doing that, but all I ask is that you get yourself and my apprentice home safely.¡± Jacky took out his wallet and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and a fifty-dollar bill. ¡°This should be more than enough for gas and food for you both.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯d say so,¡± I mumbled as he put the bills in my hand. That kind of money could buy an awful lot of gas station snacks.


    Jacky put his hand on my shoulder. ¡°Please give my regards to the Oliversens and apologize for the fact I couldn¡¯t say goodbye to them.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡± I grabbed onto his jacket before he could disappear. ¡°Big Jacky¡­¡±


    My mind went blank. There was some kind of tender emotion clogging up my chest¡ª¡°tender,¡± like, something sensitive and delicate, as well as ¡°tender,¡± something gentle. I wanted to say something to him, but I didn¡¯t know the right words. My hand tightened around the fabric of his suit coat.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said.


    He paused, then turned back to me. I could sense the difference; one moment he¡¯d been about to fly away, his mind already distracted by thoughts of urgent work¡ªthen he was there with me, focusing on me.


    ¡°You¡¯re thanking me?¡± he said.


    ¡°You helped.¡±


    ¡°I helped Olivia. I don¡¯t understand why you¡¯d be thanking me.¡±


    No, he wouldn¡¯t understand something like that.


    ¡°Thank you for being the kind of person who¡¯d put off urgent work to help Olivia.¡±


    ¡°I still don¡¯t see why that would matter to you.¡±


    I grinned at him. ¡°I know you don¡¯t. But it does.¡± I let go of his jacket. ¡°Go on now. And don¡¯t forget to turn on your ringer! Darius might need to talk to you, and if I get in a wreck, expect a call.¡±


    After one last wary glance, he disappeared.


    I tucked the money in my pocket and went back into the store.


    It was happy chaos. Kirby had moved his stool out to the center counter. Autumn and Olivia were bringing him potted plants for inspection and instructions on what to do. It was something he could¡¯ve done by himself, but he must have known that Olivia and Autumn wanted to be involved, and I think he wanted to have them around.


    My offer to go grab coffee from the local shop was universally approved. I took down everyone¡¯s orders and headed to the front of the store.


    ¡°Could you raise the blinds as you leave?¡± Kirby asked.


    I raised the two blinds on the windows, as well as the blinds on the door, to allow the meager February sunlight to come streaming in. The on-vacation sign was still taped to the door, and I felt a healthy surge of pleasure when I ripped it off. As I wadded it up into a ball, I happened to glance out the window.


    Nylah was across the street, watching the shop. Her posture was stiff and perfect, like normal, but the expression on her face was relaxed. I wondered if that¡¯s what she looked like when she thought no one was watching.


    She noticed me. When our eyes met, I nodded to her. She nodded back, then turned and went on her way.

 Chapter 45 - Odd Requests

    We didn¡¯t wind up leaving until the next day.


    Olivia had a lot of catching up to do with Kirby and Autumn, and by the time that was over, it was already dinner. We could¡¯ve left after that, but Olivia wanted me to have more than two hours of sleep if I was driving home, and I was tired enough, I could see the wisdom in her suggestion.


    Nylah had to go into work early the next morning, but Rall and Ellis were there. Mrs. Oliversen had called into work to inform them she would be late. After a leisurely breakfast, we said goodbye to Olivia¡¯s parents and started the drive home.


    It wasn¡¯t long before we had to stop for gas, and since I only had cash, I had to go inside to pay for it.


    That done, I returned to the car, plopped myself into the driver¡¯s seat, and tossed my purchase over to Olivia. When it hit her, she looked away from the window and down at the cord in her lap.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± she asked.


    I shut the door, turned on the car, and put it in reverse. ¡°That, my little redheaded copilot, is an aux cord, otherwise known as an audio cord, which can be used to attach this phone¡±¡ªI tossed my phone to her¡ª¡°to the car speakers.¡±


    ¡°I know what an audio cord is.¡± She sounded irritated. I shouldn¡¯t have felt pleased about that, but I did. ¡°I thought the money Mr. Noctis gave you was for gas and snacks.¡±


    ¡°And I don¡¯t like that accusatory tone in your voice, Miss Oliversen.¡± I pulled out of the gas station and turned toward the freeway. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know, I made the ultimate sacrifice to go without snacks in order to pay for that.¡±


    Olivia ripped off the thin cardboard that corralled the cord. ¡°And I¡¯m sure it has nothing to do with the fact you¡¯re stuffed to bursting with waffles.¡±


    I grinned. ¡°Your father is a decent cook.¡±


    ¡°Not really. Waffles are the only things he knows how to make.¡±


    I shook my head in disbelief. ¡°You¡¯re a lucky girl, Olivia.¡±


    There was a brief pause, then she muttered, ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right.¡±


    She finished plugging in my phone. I gave her the code to open it, and she started scrolling through my music.


    ¡°Your father invited me back, you know,¡± I said.


    It was true, but I brought it up mostly to tease her.


    I went on, ¡°He said that the next time I came over, he¡¯d show me all your baby pictures, and if I dragged you along, he¡¯d make me copies of the most embarrassing ones.¡±


    When I glanced over, she was glaring at me. Too bad I had to keep my eyes on the road. It was a really good glare, and I felt like I didn¡¯t have enough time to appreciate the effort she was putting into it.


    ¡°When was this?¡± she asked.


    ¡°While you were talking to your mother.¡±


    Before we left, Ellis and Olivia had secluded themselves off to the side of the front driveway so they could talk in private. Their conversation had gone on for so long, Rall and I had enough time to bring down the bags, pack them in the trunk, and lean back against the car to enjoy our own conversation. We talked about baby pictures, and marveled at how similar Ellis and Olivia looked¡ªespecially when they had the same solemn expression and both stood with their arms crossed.


    ¡°What did she want to talk to you about anyway?¡± I asked.


    Olivia started the music and turned down the volume so we could still talk. ¡°She was acknowledging the coven¡¯s debt to me.¡±


    I did a double-take with maybe one or two more glances than was safe while driving. ¡°What? For real? Like, officially?¡±


    ¡°She admitted that, if it wasn¡¯t for us, Sams and Misserly would¡¯ve gotten away with the grimoire, despite all her extra security measures and the fact Master Uhler had warned her. She thanked us on behalf of the coven for saving such a valuable heirloom, and she thanked us personally for saving her the embarrassment.¡±


    ¡°Well, dang. That sounds¡­respectful.¡±


    ¡°It was.¡±


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    I didn¡¯t have to look over that time. I knew Olivia would be smiling, and at least eighty percent of it would be a gloating smile. The remaining twenty percent? I could speculate.


    ¡°Did you tell her that you didn¡¯t do it for her?¡± I asked.


    Olivia¡¯s voice took on the pompous note that meant she was (once again) conveying information to the ignorant.


    ¡°When a witch acknowledges a debt, it¡¯s rude to throw it back in their face.¡±


    ¡°Oh, of course,¡± I said. ¡°My mistake. I can¡¯t imagine you being rude.¡±


    ¡°Not that rude.¡±


    I rolled my eyes.


    ¡°She also said she wanted me to come home more often.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s statement was so quiet, I could barely hear it over the music. The click of her tapping her fingernail on the window button was louder.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± I asked.


    Click. Click. Click.


    Maybe that one was too hard. I tried again: ¡°Do you want to visit more often?¡±


    ¡°Sort of,¡± she said. ¡°I like my dad. I didn¡¯t realize how much I missed him. But¡­it¡¯s not that easy.¡± She pulled her arm off the door and let it rest in her lap, one hand cradling the other. ¡°I¡¯ll have to think about it.¡±


    I dropped my head in a single approving nod.


    I knew that making a choice like that would be complicated. It¡¯d take time to sort out her feelings and gauge how much she was willing to risk.


    It¡¯s also none of your business, Emerra Cole, I reminded myself, and she wasn¡¯t looking for your approval.


    She had it anyway. I always found it encouraging to see the potential for change.


    Olivia broke the short silence. ¡°I¡¯ve relayed my mother¡¯s thanks, but I have to acknowledge that I owe you too.¡±


    She tried to make her voice casual, but I could hear how much effort she was putting into that breezy attitude.


    She went on, ¡°You didn¡¯t have to come and help me.¡±


    Oof. I¡¯d thought this awkward conversation would take the form of a thank you. I was so sure of it that I¡¯d already practiced the ultra-cool tone I was going to use when I said ¡°no problem.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t prepared anything for the even more awkward I¡¯m-in-your-debt speech.


    But it¡¯d be a shame to waste an ultra-cool tone.


    ¡°No problem,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m glad Kirby¡¯s home. He¡¯s a sweetheart. Do you think he and Autumn are going to start dating officially now?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re trying to change the subject,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°If they get married, are you going to be a bridesmaid?¡± I gasped, then whispered, ¡°I might get to see you in something other than black!¡±


    ¡°Remember what I said about it being rude to throw it back in a witch¡¯s face when she¡¯s acknowledging a debt?¡±


    ¡°But you already paid me back! Remember?¡±


    ¡°When was this?¡±


    ¡°Sunday. When I asked you to give Nylah a chance.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t count.¡±


    ¡°Why not? You did it!¡± I lifted one hand from the wheel long enough to dramatically rest the tips of my fingers against my chest. ¡°I, for one, was very impressed.¡±


    Olivia was unmoved by my flattery. ¡°It¡¯s also rude to be patronizing to a witch.¡±


    ¡°Come on, Olivia,¡± I whined. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to be in my debt, and you don¡¯t want to be in my debt¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right about that.¡±


    ¡°Then can¡¯t we forget about it?¡±


    ¡°No. If you don¡¯t want me to be in your debt, then you¡¯d better think of something I can do for you. And don¡¯t you dare ask for one of my baby pictures, you creeper.¡±


    I propped my elbow on the ledge where the door met the window and rested my head on my fingertips. The window was cold enough that I could feel the chill, even through my sweater sleeve.


    Of course Olivia wouldn¡¯t hesitate to saddle me with a job like that. What a witch.


    I muttered the lyrics along with the music and let my mind wander. A song and a half later, I moved my hand and sat up straight.


    ¡°Okay.¡± I spoke slowly, giving myself time to prod the idea from several angles as I presented it. ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s possible, but I¡¯d like your help making something.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°On the other hand, I don¡¯t know if it¡¯d ruin your potion-making supplies.¡±


    ¡°You want me to make you a potion?¡±


    ¡°Not¡­exactly. And¡ªI want to be clear here¡ªI don¡¯t want you to make it for me. I want you to teach me how to make it.¡±


    ¡°Make what?¡±


    ¡°A balm.¡±


    ¡°A balm? Like, a skin balm?¡±


    ¡°Something like that, yeah.¡±


    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Olivia put a hand to her forehead. ¡°Can¡¯t you have Mrs. Park buy you some lotion?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not for me. It¡¯s for Conrad¡¯s pa¡ªhands. It¡¯s for his hands.¡±


    Olivia didn¡¯t answer.


    I kept my eyes on the road and waited. The foreground of black trees and white snow flew by, but the dull blue shapes of the far horizon stayed static, holding up the steel gray sky.


    Silences tend to intensify embarrassment, and about the time this one turned my cheeks from pink, to red, to dark red, I decided to end it by babbling on. Because that always helps.


    ¡°See, he¡¯s been trying to train me how to fight, and I¡¯d like to pay him back, but he won¡¯t use the balms they make for dog paws because¡ªI don¡¯t know¡ªmasculine ego, maybe? Wolf pride? Something, anyway¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shut up a minute,¡± Olivia said.


    I shut up.


    A few seconds later, I glanced over and discovered that she¡¯d taken out her phone while I¡¯d been babbling.


    I smirked and shook my head, but I wasn¡¯t sad to see the matter drop. I wasn¡¯t good with gifts, favors, or witchly debts.


    I''d been told my discomfort was a trauma response. My therapists had cited everything from my avoidant attachment style, to the fact that I''d internalized the idea that I didn''t deserve anything. Since it was impossible to make it through life without relying on others, I''d learned to ignore it most of the time¡ªbut I was still haunted by a sense of shame and frustration whenever someone did something for me or gave me something. Too often, I felt like I could never pay them back.


    Huh.


    Okay. Maybe I did understand why witches cared so much about debt.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to figure out what to do about the smell,¡± Olivia muttered.


    ¡°Sorry?¡± I said.


    ¡°It¡¯s Conrad,¡± she said. ¡°We have to be careful about the scent or it might bother him. And if he does have some kind of masculine ego, then we better not rely on anything too floral.¡± She looked up from her phone. ¡°Bay rum?¡± She sounded confused. ¡°Have you ever heard of a fragrance called bay rum?¡±


    ¡°A fragrance? That sounds more like a drink!¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Apparently it¡¯s one of the more popular fragrances for men.¡±


    ¡°Oh, really?¡± I said with a smile. ¡°Tell me about it.¡±

 Epilogue - Specially Crafted Lycanthrope Bean Balm

    I flounced over to Conrad¡¯s room a week later.


    Flounced, for those of you who don¡¯t know, is a word that Victorian vampires use to describe any kind of enthusiastic movement that happens around them in the middle of the day when they¡¯d rather be sleeping.


    Count Vasil was asleep, so I could flounce with abandon.


    I gave a cheerful rap on Conrad¡¯s door, and waited.


    ¡°Come in, Mera,¡± he called.


    When I entered, he was sitting at his desk doing some paperwork. I crossed the room and leaned over him, resting my chin on his shoulder since I didn¡¯t want him to forget I was there.


    ¡°What are you up to?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Spring¡¯s coming,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m getting a list ready for what the yard needs.¡±


    I straightened up with an excited oh! ¡°Do we get flowers?¡±


    ¡°Some. Igor¡¯s been asking about a vegetable garden, and I think the rest of the grounds are under enough control I could try it out.¡± His eyes swiveled up to me. ¡°Do you know anything about growing vegetables?¡±


    I shook my head.


    ¡°Me neither.¡± He put down his pen, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms. ¡°I¡¯ll have to do some research.¡±


    ¡°But I thought you knew everything about being a groundskeeper.¡±


    Conrad chuff-laughed. ¡°No. I picked it all up as I went along. I hated the idea of staying here with nothing to keep me busy.¡± His nose suddenly rose by an inch and his pale-yellow eyes narrowed. ¡°That smell again.¡± He turned to me. ¡°What are you up to?¡±


    I grinned and pulled the small glass jar out from around my back where I¡¯d been hiding it. ¡°Could this be what you¡¯ve been smelling?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He eyed me. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°First you have to tell me if you like the scent.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not bad.¡±


    Ah, yes. Conrad and his legendary indifference to smells. I could¡¯ve pounded a truckful of rotting rose petals into it and he probably wouldn¡¯t have cared.


    ¡°That¡¯s good enough,¡± I declared.


    Olivia and I had endured enough of each other. We needed a week-long break. At least. Maybe a month.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°You don¡¯t usually wear perfume,¡± Conrad noted.


    ¡°You think this is what perfume smells like?¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡±


    So much for trying to avoid a flowery scent. Sure, there was a bit of lavender in there¡ªbut it was only a hint! On the other hand, the concept of masculine and feminine smells was a human thing. I couldn¡¯t expect a wolfman to know about it. Especially considering how much research Olivia and I had to do.


    ¡°It¡¯s not perfume,¡± I explained. ¡°It¡¯s a gift.¡± I grabbed one of his massive paws. Once he figured out what I was doing, he helped me lift it up and turn it over so his chapped palm was facing up. As I put the jar in his hand, I said, ¡°Now, I promise you don¡¯t have to like it, and if you throw it away, that¡¯s fine, I won¡¯t be offended or anything, but this is for you, as a thank you for helping me train.¡±


    He eyed it. ¡°Okay. What is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a moisturizing balm specially designed for lycanthrope hands. It uses only the highest quality ingredients, and I would know because I made it myself!¡± Honesty compelled me to add, ¡°Olivia helped.¡± I lifted one shoulder in a shrug. ¡°Anyway, since I made it, you can¡¯t object by saying it¡¯s for dogs. It was made for you.¡±


    He continued staring at it.


    I¡¯d meant every word about it being okay if he threw it in the trash. Considering how much I struggled with gifts, I never wanted anyone to feel obliged when I gave them something. I ascribed, one-hundred percent, to the idea that it¡¯s the thought that counts and the rest can be tossed.


    But I hadn¡¯t expected such a complete non-reaction.


    ¡°Um,¡± I said. ¡°Conrad?¡±


    He roused himself. ¡°No! This is¡­Thank you, Emerra. This does smell good. I appreciate the fact you were thinking of me.¡±


    Ah. The thought had been acknowledged. I smiled ruefully and asked, ¡°Shall I get the garbage can?¡±


    He rubbed his eyebrow ridge with his free hand. ¡°Well¡­¡±


    When Conrad looked up, his eyes met mine for less than a second before his gaze dashed off to the corner of the room. His ears started twitching through various levels of flatness. I tried not to laugh at his embarrassment, lest the next person being laughed at was myself.


    ¡°Are you going to tell me what you¡¯re thinking,¡± I asked, ¡°or just draw doodles in the air with your ears?¡±


    The ears briefly agreed on a lower setting¡ªmeaning I¡¯d managed to annoy him¡ªthen they relaxed. A bit.


    Conrad said, ¡°I can¡¯t use balms like this, Mera. I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t tell you earlier. I didn¡¯t think it would matter.¡±


    ¡°Why can¡¯t you use them?¡±


    ¡°I hate how the grease gets stuck in my fur, and I¡¯ve never figured out how to get it out without getting it everywhere.¡±


    ¡°Oh, is that all?¡± I waved away his concern. ¡°That¡¯s not a problem, wolf-boy.¡± I held my hands up and wiggled my fingers. ¡°I don¡¯t have fur to get all greasy.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saying¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m saying I¡¯ll help you put it on. Free hand massages included with every jar.¡± I took the jar and opened it. ¡°You want to try it out now? Then we can figure out if you like it or not.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t mind?¡±


    I took out a small glob and started warming it by rubbing it in my hands. ¡°Not at all. Besides, I owe you.¡±


    ¡°For the training?¡±


    ¡°For helping me help Olivia pay me back. She¡¯s ornery enough without feeling like she owes me. Now we can go back to annoying each other without worrying about it.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re more comfortable that way?¡±


    ¡°Much more comfortable. Your paw please, sir.¡±


    At first, all he did was watch me with his eyes narrowed and a slight smile hiding at the edge of his black lips. Then he lifted his palm toward me.


    It turned out that he did like it, and it helped his hands enough, he let me reapply it every few days until Kappa found it and ate it.


    For information about the release of the next book in the series, see below in the post-chapter author notes.

 Prologue to The Forgotten Guard

    It had rained the night before. The rolling veil of fog rising off the swamp parted before the bow of their canoe without reaching them. The boy shivered as he passed through it. Normally, he liked getting away from the village to enjoy the peaceful morning, but that day, the swamp was haunted by the fog and the diffused light the clouds had grudgingly allowed through.


    The boy shook his head, regripped his paddle, and dug deeper into the water with his next stroke. The end of the boat drifted out. His friend dug deeper with his own paddle so their strokes would match.


    There was nothing wrong with the morning. He¡¯d brought his restless, apprehensive mood with him¡ªbut whatever else was happening, he had chores. They were real, important, and immediate. People were counting on him. He could worry when his work was done.


    But there was so much to worry about. It didn¡¯t seem like there¡¯d be enough free time.


    His stomach tightened.


    A week and a half ago, his mother¡¯s brother had come to talk to him. A new group of white men had moved into the area. The boy was going to observe them.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already talked to the head of the village. It¡¯s been arranged.¡±


    At first the boy had been too stunned to answer. When the surprise had passed, he dropped his head and stared at the ground between his feet, trying to sort through his feelings.


    The village head was a stubborn man. Even considering the respect his uncle had in the village, it couldn¡¯t have been easy to get him to change his mind.


    ¡°Why me?¡± the boy asked, his head still lowered.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to go?¡±


    The boy looked up. ¡°I¡¯m not a scout. I¡¯ve never gone out to fight¡ª¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a war,¡± his uncle said. ¡°Not yet. With luck it may never become one. The village is already sending a warrior, but I need someone to be my eyes, and I¡¯m not looking for a fight. That¡¯s why I¡¯m sending you. You¡¯re different.¡±


    The boy frowned. Others had said that. They hadn¡¯t meant it so kindly.


    His uncle went on, ¡°You can slip past fireflies without them noticing, and sit in the water with alligators, watching the same sunrise. That¡¯s the kind of person I want to tell me what he sees¡ªand understand, you will be sitting beside another kind of alligator. But if anyone could see them as friends, it would be you.¡±


    A heavy silence fell between them. His uncle often talked as if the animals were people¡ªmuch to the annoyance of some of the hunters¡ªbut this was the first time he¡¯d ever heard his uncle talk about people as if they were animals.


    Maybe they aren¡¯t people.


    ¡°Are they dangerous?¡± the boy asked.


    His uncle would know better than anyone. His unique duties kept him in the village, so he was there to talk with every trader.


    His uncle looked in the boy¡¯s eyes, weighing his nephew carefully. He¡¯d been doing that more and more as the boy got older. Sometimes he¡¯d look away and change the subject, and the boy understood his uncle¡¯s choice had been, not yet. Other times, like this time, he didn¡¯t look away.


    ¡°We¡¯ve heard from others along the river, and word came to them from further away,¡± his uncle said. ¡°They¡¯re like us. The different groups have different ways. But all of them are dangerous. We need to know if they¡¯ll be dangerous to our village.¡±


    The boy¡¯s friend had to call his name twice before the boy realized he¡¯d been lost in his thoughts.


    They¡¯d arrived at the place where the seine was kept. When they moved the canoe into the shadows of the cypress trees, the temperature dropped. It was only the hint of a difference, but it was enough to make the boy shiver. They pulled the canoe out of the water and walked along the edge of the swamp until they found the top of the net, tied to a tree. The boy lost the short argument about which of them would walk out to the other end. The discussion was more of a tradition than a real argument, and despite his protests, the boy was fairly sure it was his turn, so it was with minimal annoyance that he stripped naked and waded into the swamp.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    He stepped off the sloped bank into water that came up to the bottom of his ribs. The sudden plunge and chill stole his breath. He slowly made his way through the water, feeling the silky mud shift beneath his feet.


    The fog made it difficult to see anything more than two-arm''s length in front of him, but it would be gone soon. It was being stirred by the same light breeze that made the surface of the water ripple. If the clouds didn''t break, the wind would steal the fog before the sun had a chance to burn it away, but until he could see clearly, he had to listen for any sounds of danger.


    The swamp was oddly quiet that morning. The bird calls were all coming from a distance. To his side, he felt the movement of the water caused by the thrashing of the fish caught in the net, but their struggles were silent.


    He reached the other end of the net and started untying the knots. As he did, he thought about the white men.


    He remembered his shock when he¡¯d first seen them. How eerie it was. They were shaped like people, but they were hairier, like an animal. The way they dressed was bizarre, and clothing covered most of their bodies. Their pale skin with reddish tinges reminded him of catfish meat. It was hours before he could shake off the impression that they were fakes. A mockery of man. Walking dolls. And there were more of them than he thought there would be. Many, many more.


    He and the warrior had watched them for an entire day, trying to see something in their faces other than strangeness. They watched them work, observed their body language and expressions, and listened to them talk to each other. Around sunset, the traders had shown up. The boy didn¡¯t know them, but judging by their tattoos and flattened foreheads, they were fellow Chitimacha from another village. They walked up to the edge of the settlement, put down their large tightly woven baskets of goods, and waited. Several of the white men came out to them.


    The boy held his breath and leaned forward as far as he could without revealing his hiding place.


    The Chitimacha were used to trading with people who didn¡¯t speak their language¡ªthere were ways to get around it¡ªbut as the boy had observed the exchange, a seed of awe had grown until it could barely be contained by his body.


    When he and the warrior left for home the next morning, the boy was in a thoughtful mood.


    How different did a people have to be before you couldn¡¯t understand one another?


    He¡¯d asked his uncle that. His uncle had said he didn¡¯t know.


    ¡°But I wouldn¡¯t try to trade with a snake,¡± he¡¯d said.


    ¡°What about an alligator?¡±


    His uncle had smiled. ¡°That depends on the alligator.¡±


    As the days passed, the boy¡¯s awe had faded, but his misgivings had stayed. He remembered how the white men had kept their eyes fixed on the backs of the traders as they left, never looking away until the traders had disappeared into the oaks. Something about their expressions had bothered him.


    The net jerked in his hands, pulling him back to the present. They must have caught something large. That was unusual for a night haul. Since no one was corralling the fish, most of them were able to swim away. Only a few managed to tangle themselves too deep in the net to escape. He¡¯d have to be careful. Whatever was in there was strong enough to yank the net out of his hands if he wasn¡¯t paying attention.


    He held his breath and dove under the water to move the anchor knot from where it was wedged between the tree roots. When the net was free, he gathered up the top and bottom, warned his friend to hold tight, then waded back to the bank where his friend was waiting. Together they hauled the catch onto dry land. With the hardest and heaviest part of the work done, the boy went to get dressed, leaving his friend to sort through the catch.


    The boy had finished putting on his breechcloth and was reaching for his first deer-skin shoe when his friend let out an abrupt cry. The boy rushed over, barefoot, to see what had caused it.


    His friend was standing back from their catch. It looked as if he¡¯d dropped the net the moment he¡¯d cried out. The serpentine edge of it lay over the heaped fish.


    As the boy stumbled to a halt beside him, his friend babbled in a loud, ragged voice, ¡°What is it?¡±


    Warily, the boy crept toward the net, trying to see what left his friend wide-eyed and shaking.


    There was something large in there. It wasn¡¯t a fish.


    It was almost the size of the boy¡¯s young brother. Most of its skin was a mottled green and brown. It had fins on the sides and top of its head, but it had arms and legs¡ªit had hands. Parts of the net around it were tattered, as if it had torn at the thing with its teeth, trying to escape. The two large, all-black eyes, set high on its head, stared up through the fading fog to the sky, but the boy couldn''t tell if it was seeing anything¡ªor if it would ever see anything again. The thing was motionless, like something dead.


    His friend came up to his side. This time, when he spoke, it came out as a whisper. ¡°Do you know what it is?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the boy whispered back, breathless.


    He¡¯d lived every day of his life in the swamp. He¡¯d never seen anything like it.


    Its pale chest started to rise and fall.


    The boy¡¯s hands clenched, and he drew in a quick breath. ¡°It¡¯s alive.¡±


    His friend froze, then suddenly took a step forward while drawing his knife. He didn¡¯t get another step before the boy latched onto his raised wrist, stalling the knife where it was.


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± the boy commanded.


    His friend glanced over his shoulder. The boy was staring out at the swamp.


    His friend turned to gaze at the water. The clouds had finally broken. The lines of sunlight that had made it through the trees set the last of the fog glowing. They could see, across the surface of the water, a dozen pairs of all-black eyes, watching them.