“Yes.”
“The months leading up to her death were . . . disturbing. She became really creepy, walking the halls at night, a faraway look in the eyes, the whole B movie bit. My mother handled her power much differently than my grandmother, even myself when I use it. The power absorbed her. It colored every aspect of her life, her interactions with people, even with me and Cora.”
I played with the door handle. “She never seemed to notice when she hurt other people’s feelings.”
“Including yours,” he said, his voice skipping lightly over the delicate waters of our conversation.
I let that comment pass. My mom and I had shared some moments when we clicked, when she acted like a mother. The rest of the time she was off on her own adventures.
“Yes, including me,” I finally said. “What’s weird is that my mother never shared necromancy with me. I mean, Cora was happy to mentor me, but it was like Mom was jealous that I might be better than her. I’m not surprised she raised a supernatural revenant and kept it from me.”
“I know you’re worried about raising Adam, but you shouldn’t be. You’ll succeed and prove at the same time that necromancers can use their power to benefit our kind.”
No one had ever spoken to me like he just had, with confidence and admiration instead of caution and fear. Even Cora had tempered her enthusiasm with caveats. I smiled at him. “I guess we’ll find out.”
* * * *
The coven occupied two floors of a downtown high rise and served as both headquarters and living space for the San Francisco witches, although some, like Kara and Adam, preferred to live elsewhere. No doubt, the views were stunning and the sleek furniture and granite countertops chic, but I preferred the rustic comfort of my house. New houses were too tightly caulked and sharp and functional.
Old houses like mine had absorbed memories into the cracks of their bricks, into the odd angles of their walls, into the tiny spaces that served no purpose. They released those memories with each sigh, each creak of wood floor, each stain on the walls—even the ones best left forgotten.
Kara and I sat in the condo’s main living area rimmed with windows that looked out over the bay, waiting for Matilda and Ewan to finish a private chat. Fine with me. The less I knew, the better.
“You want to see a movie tonight?” Kara asked.
I opened my mouth to say yes and then closed it when I remembered the date with Steve.
Unfortunately, Kara remembered too. “Oh, wait. You have a date with professor boy?”
“Dates . . . I remember those.”
I turned at the sound of Matilda’s voice. Ewan followed her into the room, scrutinizing me. He went to stand next to the window, folded his arms in front of him, and leaned against the wall. Why did I suddenly feel as if I was harboring a dirty secret? I looked at Kara, and her eyes formed big “oops” circles.
Kara quickly recovered and diverted the topic from my less than stellar dating life. “Don’t let Matilda fool you. She has plenty of men trailing after her.”
Before I’d met Matilda, my mind had conjured a stereotype image of some earthy type with long, flowing skirts, but Maltilda was anything but. Her deep blue dress molded an hour glass figure. She had a black and white movie quality, a classic blonde straight out of a Sam Spade thriller.
She sat next to Kara and gave me a warm smile. “Being sought after by men is one thing. Finding one worthy of my attention is another. Something you should consider, Kara.”
I put my fist to my mouth to keep it from falling open. I’d never heard anyone talk to Kara like, well, a mother. Kara narrowed her eyes but didn’t shoot back with a smart-ass retort.
“Anyway, Ewan doesn’t want to hear our woman talk,” she said.
“Oh, no, please. I’m finding it extremely interesting.” His tone carried a tinge of humor, the type employed to cover a sharper edge. I refrained from lifting my head, but felt his eyes penetrating me.
“I’m glad you’re helping us, although I’m not entirely convinced bringing our Adam back as some upgraded zombie is the best strategy,” Matilda said, leveling the skepticism in her gaze at Ewan. He took it in, out of respect, but kept his shoulders straight.
“Then why are you going along with it?” I asked.
She took her time moving her gaze from Ewan to me. “I don’t really have an alternative to offer Malthus, so for now we go with Plan A.”
“I’m not exactly comfortable with it either,” I admitted.
“Well, we do what we have to sometimes. Your grandmother had a formidable spirit. She would agree with your decision.”
She stood and reached over to pat my hand, and the silver and gold charms dangling from her bracelet jingled. Witchy charms, no doubt, though she’d never reveal which ones carried elemental potency or which served as distractions. I was partial to the silver sand dollar.
She stopped in front of a shelf and pulled out a worn black composition notebook I swear only moments before was a thick book wearing a red sleeve. “This was Adam’s notebook,” she said. “You and Kara can look through it and see if you find something to help you. When you’re done, return the book to this shelf.”
“What about returning the notebook to Adam, you know, after . . .” I said.
Matilda gazed out the window, the setting sun casting part of her face in shadow. “The Adam who owned this book is dead. What you are bringing back will not be the Adam we knew.”
She turned back to me with tired eyes, almost filled with regret. “When you set certain events in motion, you must be prepared for the consequences.” She stretched her hand out to pass the book to Kara then pulled her hand back. “I don’t have to remind you to stay away from certain spells.”
“You just did.” Kara snatched the book from Matilda’s hand. Matilda turned and left the room with a loud sniff.
Kara cocked an eyebrow at me and opened the notebook. “Matilda is all right, but she has her Malthus moments. Maybe it’s a requirement for the supernatural leader job.”
Ewan chuckled, filling the space next to me on the couch. His thigh brushed mine, sizzling my skin through the thin fabric of my dress. The couch offered plenty of empty space, but he sat against me as if it barely fit the two of us.
“She’s right.” I rubbed the back of my neck, fell against the back of the couch, and stared at the ceiling.
“You still okay with this?” Kara asked.
I nodded and focused on the task at hand, knowing any hesitation could jeopardize the raise. I had to do this, to resolve Cora’s death, to keep from dying inside. I sat up, hit with a high wattage thought. “I want a diagram for a spell he was good at. One other witches couldn’t do. I think it’ll make our bond stronger.”
“I told you he was one of a handful of witches that could do mind reading and control spells, although Matilda will freak if we use one. Let’s see.” She flipped through the pages. “I think—yes, this one.” She pointed at a crudely sketched semicircle, a stem at its base with the Greek letter omega in the center, all contained within a square.
I traced the diagram on a piece of paper. My hand trembled, and I shook it to loosen the muscles. This was really going to happen. Up until now, raising Adam seemed like some forgotten nightmare, but tracing the diagram brought it to life.
A flapping sound stopped my hand. This time I didn’t cover my open mouth. A deck of tarot cards floated in the air next to Kara, with the Empress card tapping her shoulder.
Kara wore an exasperated look, one I imagine she’d use if she had a daughter—and said daughter pestered her to play Barbies.
“The cards,” Kara said. The cards shuffled in irritation, making the flipping sound a card dealer makes. “Elizabeth Taylor wants an introduction.”
“You call the cards Elizabeth Taylor?”
“She insisted.”
I stifled my laughter when the Empress card puffed out at me. They flitted to Ewan and covered his body with only one card revealed to us, the Lovers.
“You mean I’m not a special hot man?” Ewan said, his eyes teasing me.
“How did they come alive?” I asked, ignoring him and his admirers.
“Matilda was performing a basic future sight spell, and the next thing we knew, the cards were flying all over the room. We don’t know what happened or what made the cards sentient, but they definitely have an ornery mind of their own.”
One card zipped over to Kara. It pictured a man lying face down on the ground with ten swords stuck in his back.
Kara laughed. “Too bad the card doesn’t really mean that, Elizabeth Taylor.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means the end of something—could be anything, a relationship, a situation. But see the sunrise in the background? That signifies a new birth. So there.” She huffed at the cards.
The cards abandoned Ewan to spin around my head until two Major Arcana and one Minor Arcana cards floated in front of me. The two major cards swatted at the minor card, but the minor card held its place until the two gave up.
“The major cards, like the Empress, the Moon, the Sun, think they’re better than the minor cards.” Her voice took on a lecturing tone. “The majors fail to acknowledge the important role played by the minor cards in readings.”
I bit the inside of my lip at the three cards facing me. I knew not to take tarot cards literally, but I couldn’t stop my small shiver at the card depicting a bound woman with eight swords surrounding her, and another one with the big daddy of ’em all—Death.
“The reading isn’t as bad as it looks, and the High Priestess card is intriguing,” Kara said. She spoke of the card bearing a woman in blue robes seated in front of a pomegranate tree and bordered by two pillars. “She symbolizes magic that can be used for good or evil,” she said.
“You call that intriguing when I’m about to use my power to raise a man from the dead?”
“It also represents unseen talent and potential. Secrets not yet revealed.”
“Not yet revealed? Really?” My tone’s incredulous. The revelations from the meeting at the demon lair still had me unbalanced.
The Death card hopped up and down in the air, seeking attention.
“Calm down, Elizabeth Taylor.” Matilda’s voice rang through the room. “And stop with the Death dance.”
Death calmed down, and all four cards gathered with the others in a pile that floated next to Matilda’s head.
“Ruby, you know the Death card never means actual death,” Matilda said.
I did. The card meant the end of things, rebirth, but the rebirth part is never guaranteed. However, the image of the skeleton, dressed in black armor, astride a horse with a dead body on the ground, did not inspire my confidence.
In a movement too swift to track, Elizabeth Taylor flittered in a tornado of cards around a tall blond woman who entered the room.
She slapped at them with her hands. “Damn cards. Get away from me.”
Kara stood and set her shoulders in a defensive posture while Matilda waved her hand over the spell book, making it disappear. She waited a few more moments while the cards terrorized the blonde.
“Elizabeth Taylor,” Matilda said. The cards halted. They floated in the air, forming a barrier between the blonde and the rest of us, then fluttered a sigh and retreated into a pile on the table.
“Haven’t you come up with a way to reverse the spell on those cards?” the blonde asked.
“Try as I may, I’ve yet to succeed.” Matilda didn’t even feign sincerity. The blonde narrowed her eyes, allowing only icy shards to pass through the slits. My admiration for Matilda inched up a few notches. She reminded me of Cora.
“I wasn’t aware you were meeting with the necromancer. You should have informed the circle.” She remained standing, a good thing, because I wasn’t sure how she planned on sitting in her short skirt without exposing more yards of thigh.
“She doesn’t have to inform anyone,” Kara said.
Matilda gave Kara a warning glance. “The circle is aware of our arrangement with the demons.”
The blonde bent toward Ewan, letting more cleavage pop out of the low-cut blouse. “Tell me Ewan, what do the demons plan to do once the identity of the killer is discovered?”
“Follow the codes, of course.” His gaze rested on her face for a moment before moving away in a flicker of annoyance.
“What do you want, Sybil? The circle met and decided on our course of action,” Kara said, glowering at the woman. I never wanted to be on the receiving end of Kara’s evil eye. A glare to frighten even the most stalwart Gypsy.
Sybil ignored her, dismissing her with a wave of her hand. “I plan to make a motion at the next circle meeting to bring Adam in for discussion, if the necromancer succeeds in making him a revenant.”
I hated when people talked around me. It wasn’t polite. I crossed my legs and leveled my best haughty look at her. Two could play at the bitch game.
I gave her a half wave, the one British royalty uses when they wave at the masses. “Hi, my name is Ruby—you know—the necromancer.”
She deigned to look at me and crossed her arms across her chest, puffing out more cleavage.
I continued. “As a revenant, Adam will be under my control. I try to be a fair necromancer and allow my revenants to make their own decisions.” I paused and took my time meeting everyone’s gaze. Kara beamed. “I also need to shield him from stressful situations. We wouldn’t want an out of control revenant running around eating people, now would we? Especially the witch who subjected him to a witch inquisition?”
Her lips whitened for a brief moment, enough time for me to know I’d gotten under her skin. She quickly recovered. “It’s on your head if he attacks anyone.” Sybil narrowed her eyes at Matilda. “I’m still taking this to the circle.”
She marched out of the room, her skirt riding up her thighs with each step. I couldn’t help glancing at Ewan to see where his attention lay and was warmed to find his gaze directed at me. His lips curled in a small smile, and his eyes reflected a glint I wasn’t ready to interpret, but made me shiver nonetheless.
“Can I hug you?” Kara was practically jumping up and down. “Is that true? Will he go berserk and eat people?”
“I almost think you want him to.”
“Only if he eats Sybil.”
“Sorry to disappoint. Controlling a revenant will be tough, but I doubt a meeting with witches is gonna drive him into a Night of the Living Dead frenzy.”
Kara really did look disappointed. Doubt gripped me. “Why is she so interested in Adam?”
“I suspect she’s interested in his spells.” Matilda patted my hand again. “Very good, Ruby. Your grandmother would have enjoyed that exchange, but I’m afraid we haven’t heard the last from Sybil.”
Chapter Eight
Ewan and I said our good-byes to Kara and Matilda. I walked next to him through the parking garage, both of us silent. My cell chimed, and I read the text from Steve, asking if he could pick me up at seven. I typed okay while Ewan opened the passenger door.
“You interested in grabbing dinner?” he asked.
My surprise almost made me press delete instead of send. I tucked my cell away, suddenly aware of his heat radiating out and grilling my body.
“That sounds nice, but I have plans tonight.” My words sounded stale, tired, used too many times for rejections.
He draped his arm over the open car door and gazed at me for a few moments before responding. “Oh, right. Your date. I guess I missed that part of the conversation.”
He stepped away from the door and walked over to the driver’s side, his posture stiff. I was disappointed. I’d enjoyed spending time with him, and the thought of more alone time with him caused my nerve endings to itch, but I’d firmed up my plans with Steve. Ewan had kept me safe, but Steve—Steve was safe.
Ewan kept his eyes on the road, his hands tight
around the steering wheel. I racked my brain, trying to think of something else to say, something to break the stifling fog permeating the inside of the car, but failed to come up with something that wouldn’t fall flat or get lost in the mist. He pulled up in front of my house, and I turned to him.
“Thanks for the company,” I said—how lame. “I had . . . this was nice.” More tired.
He faced me, his eyes blank. “Have a nice date.” He said the words as if he had nasty bits in his teeth. The ones you get sometimes when eating. The ones that make you lose your appetite.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I said, stepping out of the car, my shoulders tight. I chanced another look at him, and he continued to stare, his eyes shuttered. Then the SUV sped away.
My boots clumped up the stairs leading to my room. Steve would be here in about thirty minutes. My cell rang—Kara.
“Hey, how was the ride back with Ewan?”
“Terrible. Look, I can’t talk too much. Steve is picking me up to have dinner.” I paused. “I’m not sure I’m in the mood anymore.”
“Feeling a little guilty?” Was she psychic?
“Ewan asked me out to dinner on the drive back. I wasn’t expecting that at all.”
“What did you tell him?” Her voice was quiet.
“That dinner sounded nice, but I had other plans.”
“Ouch. Did you tell him you liked his personality?”
“I know, right?”
“Was he upset?”
“I kind of think so.” Have a nice date . . . “Yes.”
“Look, just go out and have a good time. It’s Friday night, for crissake.”
“I suppose. It’ll be . . . nice.”
Kara laughed as we said good-bye. She had a point, though. I really didn’t feel like moping around the house. As I applied more lipstick, the doorbell rang. I smiled at the mirror for a few minutes until I’d erased the lines creased over my brow.
“Have a good time and don’t think about Ewan,” I ordered my reflection.
* * * *
I woke the next morning to an empty bed. The banging of cupboards in the kitchen revealed Steve’s whereabouts. I’d followed Kara’s advice and tried to enjoy my date, but my thoughts had strayed to Ewan during the pauses between conversation and the moments spent staring into my wine glass.
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