“How are you?” I asked.
It was a step up from “Have any nightmares last night?” But not by much.
Scath ignored the question. She looked toward the wizard’s house and snorted.
“Yeah, I’m excited too.” I unzipped my pouch and peered inside. “Bizbee?”
“If ye want my opinion, ye won’t go into that house,” the grig said vehemently. “That wizard is one spell short of a spellbook, even if he does have that sainted lass working for him.”
The sainted lass would be the secretary that gave him Post-its.
“He doesn’t scare me as much as the people I’ll be facing tonight,” I said honestly. “And if he has information that could help me, then I need to talk to him.”
“Ye want to talk to him because it bothers ye that he thinks ye’re a villain,” Bizbee countered. “And ye shouldn’t care what he thinks.” He sniffed. “Ye’re all right, Shade. Ye’re a good girl.”
My heart swelled and some of the weight slid off my shoulders. “Thanks, Bizbee.”
The grig nodded gruffly, then held out his hands. “Well, give us the cell phone then. Usual play, if ye don’t check in with me in an hour…”
“Then call for help,” I agreed.
Honestly I probably didn’t need the precaution anymore. Not now that Scath had arrived. But it never hurt to have a backup.
I knocked on the door. No one answered, and I didn’t hear any sounds inside the house.
“Jim?” I called out. I hesitated. “Jim, I know you’re home. I need to talk to you.”
“What do you want?” his secretary demanded from the other side of the door.
“I have questions about the artifacts we spoke about yesterday.”
“He’s not taking visitors right now. Make an appointment.”
“I talked to Detective Briggs,” I said. “I know Jim is a good man. And I know he can’t be happy about all those artifacts being united.” I took a deep breath. “I can’t stop it. But if he’ll talk to me, tell me what I’m up against, then maybe…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. Deep down, I might want to foil the thief, but saying it out loud, announcing I intended to violate my contract… That was tricky. A forsworn witch was no one’s savior.
There was a long pause. Then a heated argument, followed by footsteps pounding back and forth, and the unmistakable sound of a Post-it being torn in two. Finally, the door opened.
Jim stood there, looking down at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “David called,” he said carefully. “He mentioned you asked about me.”
“You were right,” I said simply.
“About what?”
“I did work for the vampire. I was just starting out, and he made me a very tempting offer. I let myself believe I wasn’t doing anything I wouldn’t have been doing anyway. I told myself it didn’t matter if the person I was sharing information with wasn’t… Well, of upstanding moral character. Maybe I should’ve turned him down.”
I met his eyes, stared him down. “But what’s done is done, and I’m not going to feel like a horrible person about it. And you’re wrong about Baba. She’s not all good, fine, you’re right about that. But she’s done more good, and for more good people, than I could ever hope to. I’m proud to have her as my mentor.”
Jim considered that. “Ever asked her why she took you on as an apprentice?”
“I have,” I admitted. “But she’s old school. Big fan of cryptic answers.”
“I’d say so.” He paused, considering me. “You come here just to tell me that?”
“No. I came here for my apology.”
“So now you’ve apologized.”
I held up a finger. “You misunderstand. I’ve come here for the apology you owe me.”
The wizard’s eyebrows twitched up toward his hairline. “You think I owe you an apology?”
“For laying me out for all my sins when none of what I’ve done is any of your business? For passing judgment on me—which is not your job, or your right—and deciding that I deserved to die after what could only have been a cursory glance at my worst days? Kidnapping me, trying to kill me?” I fixed him with my best witchy look, heaping on an extra layer of “I’m disappointed in you” and flavoring it with a “there will be consequences.” “Yes, I believe you owe me an apology.”
“If you really believe I was going to kill you, then why did you come back?” Jim asked. Genuine curiosity lifted his tone.
“I came here because tonight I’m meeting with all my suspects. I expect the thief will make a grab for the last item, and I have some questions about how the artifacts work.”
“So not only did you come back after you think I tried to kill you, you came back thinking I would help you?”
I smiled. “Yes. And for the same reason. I think you can’t help but do the math when a problem presents itself.”
“Meaning?”
“Watch.” I bent my knees, squatting low enough on his porch that the heels of my boots touched my backside. I grunted with exertion as I fought to stand again, wincing at the pain that spiked in both knees.
Jim stared at me. “Um… What was that?”
“Before I started my apprenticeship with Mother Hazel—”
“Baba Yaga.”
“Before my apprenticeship, I could squat down and stand up again without a sound.” I waved a hand. “Didn’t take any effort at all.”
The line between his brows deepened. “So…you’re older?”
“Much older. I’m a witch. We don’t age gracefully, but we age slowly. I spent my apprenticeship in a house between worlds, where time was less of a law and more of a vaguely worded suggestion. I don’t know how old I am, but I know that every day I was there, I helped people. I sat with sick people, with dying people. Sometimes to help them get better, sometimes so they weren’t alone when they passed. I’ve searched for lost sheep, and in some cases, killed the creature that was eating them. I don’t just traipse about the countryside looking for adventure, searching for the next monster that needs a good hiding. I help people. However I can. Have done for a very long time.” I pointed at my aching knees. “This long.”
Jim was still staring at me, but his expression was contemplative. He was listening, really listening. So I continued.
“Now, Mother Hazel would have liked me to go on like that. Helping people, with a heavy emphasis on the more mundane methods of helping. But I made another choice. I decided that I wanted to help people who didn’t even know they needed it. Help people who were being taken advantage of, people who didn’t know better, didn’t know what’s really out there.” I took a deep breath. “Mistakes were made. I’ll grant you that.”
Now I stood up straight. I let my temper spike, let my fury show in my eyes as I closed my hands into fists. “But you. You reduced me to nothing but those mistakes. You ignored all the good I’ve done, all of it. You were ready to write me off because you thought a handful of mistakes defined me. And for that, Jim Givens, you owe me an apology.”
For a long minute, the wizard just stared at me. He wore the scrutinizing expression of a parent weighing whether or not their child really meant it when they said they “wouldn’t do it again.” Like he wanted to believe me.
I held his gaze. I didn’t have anything to be ashamed of.
“My spell,” he said finally. “It wouldn’t have killed you. And it wouldn’t have hurt your two little ones.”
“How comforting that would have been to know at the time,” I said flatly.
Another long minute, more staring. Finally, he nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“Weird,” Peasblossom muttered. “I didn’t think your speech was that great.”
Jim chuckled. “It was a good speech. Also, you’re right. I did more research after our meeting. On the artifacts—and on you. You’ve done a lot of good. Less dramatic than your mistakes, but I suppose that’s the point.”
“And the helpful gesture that goes with the a
pology?” I prompted. “Much like the nasty spell that went with the blanket accusations?”
A ghost of a smile played over Jim’s mouth. “Wait here.”
He wasn’t going to invite me inside. I tried not to be offended by that. In time, he’d see I was harmless. And if not, then maybe he’d find out I wasn’t.
“His wards are giving me a headache,” Peasblossom complained.
It wasn’t until she said that that I noticed it too. A humming in the back of my head like the thrum of high voltage electricity. I squinted at the doorway, calling my magic just enough to brush it over the wards so I could see them.
My mouth fell open. Never in my life had I seen wards like that. The golden energy was six inches thick, almost opaque. Runes flowed through the gold light, pulsing with energy, ready to react to any offered threat. No wonder Jim had been willing to answer the door and stand there talking to me. Nothing I could do would get through those wards.
He appeared in the doorway again, and I had to brush a hand through the air to wave away the afterimage of the glowing wards so I could see his face. His gaze flicked from me to the doorway, but he chose not to comment.
“I did more research on your artifacts.” He held up a photograph. “I was able to blow up the picture of the stolen bowl enough to read it. That’s how I knew it belonged to your master’s family.”
“We’ll get along better if you don’t call him that,” I interrupted.
Jim inclined his head. “Sorry. Anyway, it turns out all the artifacts were given to humans. Which is a little strange, considering how treasured items like these are.”
“Someone went to a lot of effort to bring them together,” I murmured.
“Exactly. So I dug deeper. Turns out, the artifacts belonged to Flint’s mother. When she was killed, his father took them with him when he returned to the Seelie Court.”
My jaw dropped. “Flint’s father is Seelie?”
Jim nodded. “Oh, yes. The set should have gone to Flint, but instead, his father gave them to his new stepson, a Seelie. Flint’s step-brother decided the Unseelie artifacts weren’t good enough for a Seelie vault, so as a joke on Flint, he passed each one on to a human, with the stipulation that they could never be used, or sold, or given away.”
“So if Flint wanted them back, they would be easy to get,” I said slowly. “Taking them from a human would be—”
“Like taking candy from a baby,” Jim agreed.
“But if he did, he’d be cursed.”
“I’m guessing they didn’t think he’d find out about the curses. It really seems as if this is one huge attempt to humiliate Flint.”
“Considering how long ago they were given to humans, and how humans have a tendency to travel around, it’s incredible that they ended up in the same city, at the same time.”
“It is quite a coincidence,” Jim agreed.
I hesitated. “I think Flint did it. I think he manipulated the families over the years, got them all to the same place. I think he wanted them to be stolen, wanted someone else to take the curse so he could steal them back with impunity.”
“Undoubtedly. But only the three individual curses are avoidable if you steal it from a thief,” Jim clarified. “Anyone who tries to use the items will suffer the truth curse, whether the items are stolen from the original owners or the thief.”
He frowned. “Besides, you said he wanted the items returned to their owners. Even if someone had stolen them, returning them to their owners would reset the curse.” He paused and drummed his fingers on the doorframe. “It’s possible that it’s a matter of pride,” he suggested. “Maybe he wasn’t involved in these thefts, and he doesn’t want his stepbrother to have the satisfaction of thinking he’d stoop to stealing them.”
“So maybe he wants the thief to use them because he wants to discourage anyone else from stealing them.”
“Sidhe are very big on public examples,” Jim agreed. “And the knife? I dug into that one a little more too. The knife holds a deformity curse. Always a crowd pleaser for sadists who really like to see someone suffer.”
“How do they work?” I asked. “Is intent necessary?”
“No, no intent is necessary. The act of serving is all that’s required, and the artifacts will pull magic from the server’s bloodline and pass it on.”
“So if Simon could get Marilyn to use her knife on the food in the bowl, then hand him the bowl and drink, that would be enough?”
“Yes.” He hesitated, his brows furrowing. “Wait, who’s Simon?”
“Someone desperate for power who doesn’t know any better,” I muttered. “And Marilyn would never know what happened? She wouldn’t feel it?”
“Sidhe aren’t sensitive to spells like that,” Jim said. “If it were Seelie magic, maybe, but this is Unseelie. It’s possible she might feel it, but I doubt it.”
“If Simon got Catherine to feed him,” Peasblossom spoke up, “he wouldn’t even need to steal the knife. He’d just need to get her to use it.”
“I have to go,” I said, standing up.
“You’re going to go through with it?” Jim asked, standing with me. “Your mas— Flint’s orders?”
I ignored the knot of tension growing tighter in its cradle between my shoulders. “It’s true, I am under orders. There’s not much I can do.”
“I hear a ‘but’ coming,” Jim said slowly.
“But I don’t work alone. And fortunately, the people I work with are not so restrained.” There. That was as close as I could come.
Scath snorted.
Peasblossom grinned. “Can’t bind a pixie.”
“Flint Valencia left a pixie familiar-sized loophole? That doesn’t sound like him,” Jim said doubtfully. He eyed Scath. “And I can’t believe he hasn’t mentioned her.”
His doubt echoed my own. A nagging voice in my head told me I was missing something. Why was Flint being so sloppy about his orders?
“Thank you for your help,” I said.
“I can’t go with you,” Jim said, sounding almost awkward. “But if I don’t hear from you tomorrow, I’ll make inquiries.”
“Thanks.” I paused, then added, “Could you have your guy quit following me? He makes me nervous.”
“Yeah, he has that effect on a lot of people,” Jim muttered. “I’ll talk to him, but he doesn’t respond well to orders.”
I looked down at Scath. “I know the feeling.”
Chapter 21
My cell phone rang as I was starting my car. I looked down at the screen hoping to see Blake’s number, even though I knew he couldn’t have the information I asked for yet. It wasn’t Blake. In fact, it wasn’t a number I recognized at all.
“Hello?”
“Mother Renard?”
“Ms. Levand?”
I blinked, surprised to hear from the half-vulcanus. Of all the people I’d spoken to last night, she’d been the least hostile. But given that both Marilyn—her would-be BFF—and her niece seemed to view me as the bad guy, I hadn’t expected her to reach out. I thought of what Blake had told me earlier, about Alicia’s call with Kathy and the subsequent destruction of evidence. I sat up straighter.
“Yes, it’s me. I need to speak with you privately.”
I looked at Peasblossom. The pixie crossed her arms and shook her head, her pink face twisted in a scowl. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I’m worried about Catherine. Her father is acting…strange. Stranger than usual, I mean. Could you come to the house?”
This was a textbook example of how fey managed to mislead without out and out lying. It was possible Alicia was sincere, but given what I’d just learned from Blake, I doubted it. But I wanted to talk to her anyway, so…
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Peasblossom scowled as I ended the call and checked my rearview mirror before pulling out of Jim’s driveway. “I’ll stomp harder next time. Maybe then it will be more clear when I’m trying to tell you your idea stinks.”
“You’re getting cocky.” Peasblossom tapped her foot on my shoulder, then twisted to look in the backseat. “What about her? Did you think about her?”
I looked in the rearview mirror at Scath lying in the backseat. The sidhe looked exhausted, even in cat form. Her green eyes were cloudy, and she was doing that slow blink toddlers did when they were trying not to fall asleep. Even her fur looked wrung out, standing up in patches. I made a mental note to ask again if she’d accept my help with the nightmares. We’d talked more in the last few days than the last two weeks combined. Maybe she’d finally let me help.
“Are you okay to go see Alicia?” I asked.
Scath growled, then snorted.
“I was just trying to be considerate,” I muttered. I glanced at Peasblossom. “You heard her. She’s fine.”
“I’m telling Bizbee to call for help if we don’t make it out in an hour,” Peasblossom said, sliding down to the pouch.
I still didn’t think I had anything to fear from the half-vulcanus, but I let Peasblossom make backup arrangements. It never hurt to have a plan B.
We arrived at Alicia’s within the twenty minute time frame. I climbed the front stairs, and my knuckles were an inch from knocking on the door when it swung open. I blinked in surprise as I found myself facing a tall, frazzled brunette I didn’t recognize.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, clapping one hand over her chest. “Oh, you startled me. You must be Ms. Renard?”
I nodded, but before I could say anything more, she waved a hand.
“Alicia said you were coming. Go ahead inside, she’s waiting in the sitting room.”
“I—” I started.
“I’m so sorry, but I’m late, I have to go. Enjoy your visit!”
She jostled past me and fled down the steps, rushing along the sidewalk with the gait of someone fleeing a disaster.
“Well isn’t that a convenient way to avoid a formal invitation from the owner of the house?” I murmured. I knocked on the open door. No answer. No butler, no shout from Alicia. “Alicia?”
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