While Esmara’s warning lingered in my head, I could tell there were at least two men in the van. I decided I would have to trust Rowan to be good on her word. Ari and I climbed into my Ocelot and I put it in gear and slowly eased out of the driveway, past the van. I glanced in the rearview mirror. They were following, but at a distance. Of course they wouldn’t want to appear too obvious, so I expected they would park several houses away when we got there.
As we headed for 2416 Weatherby Street, I told Ari about the articles I had read.
“So, Sheryl vanished for over a month and as far as the news articles I found went, no one ever figured out why. I wonder if anybody has asked her about it.”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think we should.”
Weatherby Street extended into the Mystic Wood, and Sheryl’s house was at the end of the lane. Weatherby was a private road, and as I drove past the barrier announcing that we were in the forest proper, a gloom descended over the neighborhood. Granted, it was dark and cold and starting to rain again, but the murkiness felt different than the everyday gloom caused by overcast skies. This was like a shadow, hiding behind the streetlights.
“I wouldn’t want to live here if the power went out,” I said.
Ari must been thinking the same thing as I was because she shook her head as she stared out the window. “You couldn’t pay me to live here. I like the Mystic Wood, but there’s something different about this area.”
“I’m not going to disagree.”
“We’re being watched,” Ari said.
I could feel them, in the forest, congregating to the sidelines. I wasn’t sure what they were, whether they were ghosts or shades or some dark creatures hiding in the woodland. Not wanting to find out, I kept my eyes on the road while Ari looked for Sheryl’s address.
Sheryl’s house was at the end of the cul-de-sac. I pulled up to the sidewalk. We sat there for a moment, looking around, protected by the car. I glanced into the rearview mirror, looking for any sign of the van, before I saw them turn onto the street. They parked a ways down from us.
“There they are.” I opened the door and motioned to Ari. “We better get inside.” I paused. “I’m nervous.”
Ari glanced at me from across the seat. “You and me both. But we just have to make it through this evening and we can forget about it.”
I gave her a nod, and we headed toward the door.
Sheryl’s house was actually cute. On the smallish side, but it looked nicely upgraded. The lawn was perfectly manicured, the trees pruned to perfection, and I wondered if she had somebody out in the yard with a level, making sure all the grass blades were the same height. The house itself showed no wear and tear. But then again, given what she must be making off of Majikoil, she could afford to have her house painted a dozen times over.
Ari walked up the steps. She pressed the bell as I joined her. The door opened immediately and there was Sheryl, wearing a lace and burnt velvet kimono over a maxi skirt and a camisole. She opened the door and ushered us in.
I found myself in a beige wonderland. The walls were painted muddy taupe, the lampshades were cream, the furniture was pale tan. Everything looked new to the point of being right out of the delivery box.
As I looked closely, the books on the shelves caught my attention. They were evenly spaced, in alphabetical order, and none of them looked like they’d been touched. Everything was precise and perfect, like in a magazine. The carpeting was stain-free, and there was no real smell in the air—not dust, not food, no perfumes of any kind—not even the scent of any of Majikoil’s oils. Nothing to indicate that Sheryl actually lived here.
“Very nice,” I said. “Is this your home, or is it Majikoil’s storefront?”
“Oh,” Sheryl said. “I run my business out of my home. I thought about renting a space but I’m not ready to do that yet. Oh, once I have more representatives, that will change. Why don’t you drop your coats on the sofa, and come with me.”
We did as she asked, following her into a large room that looked like it might be a master bedroom. Now, it was filled with shelves on which magical oils rested, and there was a table that looked a lot like a vanity table that a manicurist might use. To one side was a chair that seemed to be hooked up to some sort of device.
I pointed to the chair. “Not going to electrocute us, are you?” I smiled to show that I was joking.
Sheryl laughed, her eyes flashing in an unsettling way. “Now, I wouldn’t do that to new recruits, would I? Make yourselves comfortable on the loveseat. I’m going to prepare your paperwork.” She walked over to a desk in a corner of the room, sat down, and pulled out two file folders.
“Do you have an online database for your reps?” Ari asked. Her mind was running along the same paths as mine. “So many places use electronic forms now.”
Sheryl shook her head, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t trust people not to hack my system. Majikoil is on its way to exploding in popularity, and at some point, we’re going to attract knockoffs and clones. I want as little out there as possible for them to get their hands on. Now, if you could fill out the following forms for me, we can get started.” She held out two clipboards. “Fill out the top sheet, initial the second and third, and then sign the fourth.”
I took the clipboards from her, handing one to Ari.
“Give us a moment to get these filled out,” I said. I was very aware of the wire in my bra, and I was wearing an almost invisible earpiece. Since Ari’s hair was short, they chosen to fit me with the headgear. It was hiding beneath my hair, which I had pulled out of the ponytail and arranged to fall over my shoulders.
“Why don’t I get us some refreshments while you fill out the forms?” Sheryl stood, heading to the door. As she left the room, Ari started to stand but I tapped her on the leg and gave her a warning look. Sheryl probably had the place wired and rigged with cameras. The last thing we wanted to do was start snooping and have her catch us. Ari paused, glancing back at me, and then she stretched and yawned, slowly sitting down again.
“Boy, am I tired,” she said.
“I know.” I faked a yawn too. “It’s been that kind of a week. I can hardly wait until Thanksgiving. I’m so ready to sit down and relax and enjoy the big game.” I was bluffing, given I couldn’t stand sports. At least, most sports. But Sheryl wouldn’t know that.
The forms asked for names and addresses, along with our Social Security numbers, and a few disturbing oddities. For instance, it asked for our blood types. That made me nervous. It also asked for an employment history, and I wondered what that had to do with anything. Probably so she could check up on us, but I scribbled down some nonsense about working freelance for the past twenty years, and supporting myself with magazine articles. With a little luck, she wouldn’t ever have a chance to catch me in a lie.
After we had filled out all the details, including bank account numbers—which were fake, provided by the Court Magika along with the checks—I carried the clipboards back over to the desk and set them down. I returned to the loveseat and leaned against the arm, looking around the room. I didn’t want to say anything because I knew we were being spied on. I yawned again—this time for real.
A few moments later, Sheryl returned. She was carrying a tray with cookies and mugs of hot cocoa. Ari and I had taken the potions to protect us from the energy drain, but as I stared at the food, the cocoa caught my attention.