“Robert, what are you doing here?” Was Gran right? Was just saying his name enough to pull him in from his hiding spot? I usually left him outside in the garden. He liked it under the new, larger-than-it-should-have-been oak tree, although maybe it was something about the magic of the fae relic buried beneath it that spoke to him.
He reached out a finger and tapped the yellow envelope. No questions, just a tap of a single finger bone, followed by a waggle of said bone.
“Yeah, I know. I know! Okay, I should open it and see what it says, right?” I nodded even though I didn’t want to open it. Robert tapped the envelope again. I sighed. “Fine, I’m opening it. Don’t get pushy.”
“Friend,” Robert said.
“Friend,” I said as I put my finger to the opening of the envelope that held not only information on my gran’s death, but on my parents’ deaths thirty years ago.
The minute I opened it, this quiet we’d been enjoying would be gone—I just knew it. Whatever darkness was trying to dig into Savannah would wake up, like peeling back the curtains and staring into the eyes of a demon. I shuddered and shook my head.
“Like a Band-Aid, just rip it open,” I whispered.
2
I backed farther into my room, slid my finger through the edge of the yellow manila envelope, popped it open and dumped the contents onto my bed in a quick move before I could yet again change my mind. A whoosh of air seemed to fly through the room, dancing across my skin like a whole army of tiny ants crawling across it, biting me here and there. I smacked at my arms and legs, shuddering as the sensation slowly faded, leaving me tingling all over.
That’s what I got for freaking myself out.
The paperwork had its back to me, as it were. Maybe that was good. I could put off looking at it for a few more moments.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for this.” I glanced at Robert. “I mean, I know that Gran’s death was probably a murder. And I know that it’s likely my parents were offed by someone too. And it’s one thing to think about that and want justice. It’s another entirely to look at pictures that might show them dead.” Or worse, not just dead but altered beyond recognition, something horrific enough to change what memories I had of them. I put my hand against the papers as if I could sense how bad it was just by touching them.
Shaking more than I cared to admit, I forced myself to pick up the stack and start to turn them over.
A boom of something against the front door spun me around, breaking my concentration, and I scrunched the papers then stuffed them back into the envelope. The banging on the door continued, quickly becoming a heavy-handed fist by the sounds of it. “Get that, Eric, would you?” I hollered down.
Only there was no Eric answering the door. Where the hell had he gone?
The banging thumped again and I hurried down the stairs. “Hold your horses, would you? You’re going to break the damn door!”
I grabbed the knob and swung the door open. The person on the front porch was someone I would have happily kept on avoiding if she weren’t trying to hammer the door down. Her hair was pulled into a neat-as-a-pin bun, tight enough to give her a facelift. Her eyes were narrowed and she leaned heavily on a cane I wasn’t entirely sure she truly needed.
Missy, Gran’s old frenemy. The literal witch who used to strike me with that very cane.
“That’s quite the knock you have there.” I leaned against the door jam.
Her entire body vibrated with energy. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
I grimaced. “Seems like a bad idea, inviting bad mojo into my home, don’t you think?”
Her eyes went from narrow to furiously bug-eyed in a flash. “I am . . . this book . . .” She kept starting and stopping with her words. I’d seen her this angry only once before.
When I’d lit the bottom of her long skirts on fire for telling me I was a stupid, useless git. It had gone better than expected because she hadn’t noticed the fire right away, giving me time to put enough distance between us so I could feign innocence. Not to say that she didn’t suspect me, I’m sure.
She held up the red leather-bound book I’d exchanged with her for information. “The spells . . . where is she, I want to speak to her.”
I turned my head, fighting a grin. The book I’d given her was, of course, useless. Truly nothing more than a book of spells for beginners wrapped in the crimson cover that had originally bound Gran’s book of spells and information about the shadow world. I’d been waiting for this visit, to be honest. I hadn’t thought Missy would want to talk to Gran, though. I’d figured she’d be pissed at me for pulling a fast one. She’d given me help for a bum book. “Gran, Missy is here to speak with you!”
Gran floated down the stairs, stopping just behind me. I stepped back so the two old “friends” could talk. Curiosity kept me close, that and the fact that I didn’t trust Missy further than I could throw her.
“Yes, Missy?” My gran clasped her hands in front of her. “What can I do for you?”
Oh, that was pretty formal even for Gran.
Missy held up the book with one hand and jabbed at Gran with her walking stick with the other. Not that it would hurt her, but the indignity of it was meant to wound. “What clouding spell is on this book? I’ve tried them all!”
I turned my head and coughed to cover up the jaw drop I’d experienced. Missy thought the book was still the real book, but covered with a spell?
“Then perhaps you aren’t the witch I thought you were,” Gran said.
Missy let out a low hiss that filled the air. “May I remind you that you are dead, and I am not?”
“I’m quite aware,” Gran said, her words dry as a popcorn fart. “The fact that you feel the need to remind me makes me wonder if dementia has finally begun to set in. Was your mother not affected by the brain fog? Perhaps you need to speak to a doctor before you try any more spells. I’d hate to see them backfire on you.”
I couldn’t resist. “You mean like when she set herself on fire?”
Gran nodded solemnly. “True, I often forget about that slip. Terrible.”
Missy vibrated where she stood. “Celia, you have no power.” She thumped the doorframe with her cane as if she’d like to thump Gran the same way. “Tell me how to read the damn book!”
Oh, she broke out an almost-a-cuss word.
Still shaking, she hit the frame of the house again, and Gran actually took a half step back. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Missy spun, and leaning heavily on her cane, she strode down the steps and through the garden, switching off the heads of plants as she went like a petulant child.
The gate slammed behind her and I watched as she left a veritable cloud in her wake.
“You’re going to have to be careful of her.” Gran shook her head. “I can’t stop her like I used to.”
“I’m not worried. Nothing in that spell book, remember?”
Gran reached out and brushed a hand over my face. “But when she figures out that she’s been duped, it will be a dangerous moment for you. She’s not evil, Breena, but she’s dark. There is a difference.”