by Evelyn Snow
Ever since we were teenagers, his father had been needling us with not-so-cute refrains such as, Evie and Holden, sitting in a tree. Ugh.
I’d tried to explain to his dad how we were perfectly suited to remain friends by saying I was happy to play Hermione to Holden’s Ron … only to realize too late where I’d gone wrong. Fortunately, Mr. Blackwood wasn’t much of a reader or a movie goer. The awkward conversation had ended without further comment.
Kerri learned of the exchange, though, thanks to Holden who thought it was funny. Since Kerri was a Leo, had the proper color hair and occasionally wore glasses instead of contacts, she’d declared herself our honorary Harry, minus the scar. After that, I swore off analogies and avoided Mr. Blackwood.
“Leave her alone,” Holden growled.
The last thing I wanted was to be a source of conflict between Holden and his dad. Tension between the two had been on the rise lately although I’d never been able to convince Holden to talk about it. Experience suggested the big wad of cash in Holden’s pocket wouldn’t last long as soon as his father found out about it. Shane Blackwood would take a sizable cut of the winnings and call it his “percentage”. I called it unfair.
What if there was something I could do about it?
“Hey, Mr. Blackwood, nice to see you,” I said brightly, “I asked Holden to play for me in the tournament tonight.”
“Wait, what?” Holden frowned.
While his dad might rationalize taking money from his son, he wasn’t an outright thief. The money would be safe with Holden as long as his father believed it belonged to someone else.
Shane gestured with the beer can. “Never figured you for a player.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s me. I’m a … player.”
“How much you in for?” he asked.
“Holden will tell you all about it. I got lucky and had a big win today.”
“Excellent.” Shane beamed. “We’ll deal you in.”
“That’s not necessary.” I smiled and clapped Holden on the shoulder. “I’m letting Wolfie here play for me.” I walked backward up the two-track and waved. “Thanks for the invitation, though.”
Holden turned his back to his father and mouthed, you owe me.
There was a lot of that going around this evening.
Chapter 12
Gunny’s prediction of full moon crazies didn’t pan out. At least, not as far as I observed from my seat on the bus ride home.
It was also possible exhaustion whittled away my perspective. The NoCal air was still thick with smoke and ash. The bus driver was still as cranky as usual. All that was missing was Gunny. I hoped he was safe in his hidey hole.
The rumbling ride offered time to sift through possible strategies for breaking the news to my aunt and uncle. Nothing had clicked, so far—nothing that wouldn’t send Uncle Delano over the edge. Without a firm start date from Devi or Sullivan, though, I had anywhere from a few days to a few weeks to come up with a way to keep the peace. Time at least was on my side.
“See the fire?”
Lost in my thoughts on the walk from the bus stop, I halted; looked around for the source of the voice. Rolling Thunder was rocking and rolling. If my uncle was home from work, he was probably fuming.
Two men stood in one of the wide-open garage doors. The guy who’d spoken had on dark wash jeans. Red embroidery on his gray polo shirt read “Tony”. Beneath closely clipped dark brown hair, his ginger beard gleamed in the wash of security lights spilling over the sidewalk.
“Which fire?” I had to ask; there were so many.
His companion answered. “In town. Big house fire. Not that far from here.” He gestured in a general direction with one hand. An unlit cigarette dangled from his long fingers. He looked familiar though I couldn’t figure why.
I didn’t hang out with guys who wore suits that cost more than I’d ever earned in a month. Dark hair fell in a shiny waterfall to the collar of his black shirt. He was handsome in that sleek and manicured, vaguely European style that was overwhelmingly sexy to anyone with a pulse. I decided it had been much too long since I’d been on a real date. Hanging out with Holden didn’t count. He was too much like a brother. Anyway, he was hung up on Cassandra, which did nothing for my self-confidence.
Tony said, “Radio is calling it a gas line explosion. My buddy here says different. I put money on it.” He studied me through narrowed eyes. “Care to make a friendly wager?”
Shifters. If they could find an angle or a sucker, they’d bet on the odds of the sun rising in the west tomorrow.
Then it dawned on me. It wasn’t Euro-guy who was familiar, but Tony. He was part of the circle that ran with Shane Blackwood. Just my luck. “Sitting out the poker tournament?”
He shrugged. “Had to work late. Might head over later. If you’re here, guess that means Holden must be home.”
I hated the way the pack kept tabs on everyone, including Holden and me.
“What about the fire—any thoughts?” Euro-guy’s question grated for some reason. So, did his smooth as a chocolate fountain voice.
“Why do you care?” I shot back. The man seemed intent on me in a way that felt predatory. My aunt’s security concerns aside, I’d never felt anything but safe on the streets of our neighborhood. If this guy wanted to change that, he was in for a rude awakening. “Did you start the fire?”
“No.”
“That’s why you don’t want to play with Tony? Placing a bet on the origin of a fire you started would be cheating.”
“It would,” he admitted, “but I don’t cheat. Unlike my friend here, I don’t gamble, either—unless it’s for keeps.”
Tony let loose a derisive snort. There was a story behind that snort. I didn’t care.
“Have a good one.” I took a step off the curb, looking right to check the traffic.
“She’s at it again.” Tony muttered under his breath. I looked back in time to see him jerk his head at the house across the street.
The curtain had been pulled back from the window to frame Aunt Phoebe. With the lights off in the living room behind her, her cream-colored cardigan contrasted with the shadows. She had a pair of binoculars trained on the three of us.
Tony sighed. “Any chance you can get her to knock it off? She’s been standing there most of the day.”
It was a reasonable request. That didn’t mean I had a prayer of making it so. I mumbled something I hoped sounded appropriately apologetic and hurried across the street.
When I entered the house, my nose told me I’d missed my favorite—chicken enchiladas. My stomach growled, emphasizing that I’d missed a meal or two today. With any luck, there’d be leftovers in the refrigerator. A steady stream of quiet conversation drifted from the dark living room. Uncle Delano must be in there, too.
“You shouldn’t talk to those men,” Aunt Phoebe said when I entered the room. She continued to scan the street outside like she was hunting for Red October. “We don’t know a single thing about them. They could be anyone.”
Now didn’t seem like the moment to reveal one of them wasn’t a complete stranger.
I found the dark silhouette of my uncle seated in the overstuffed chair next to the settee. “I can’t believe you’re encouraging her.”
“Better for her to get it out of her system,” he said. “If she doesn’t, she won’t sleep, and if she doesn’t sleep, I won’t sleep. I have to work for a living. What do you expect me to do?”
“I don’t know, but this isn’t helping.” Weariness overwhelmed my hunger. I sank into a chair next to Wolfgang. He sat against the wall opposite the window. “They’re just hobby mechanics—guys into anything that goes vroom.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aunt Phoebe snapped. “Even I know they’re shifters. Especially that one in the suit. For all we know, they’re running contraband.”
“What makes you think that?” This was an old argument. I was fresh out of energy to deal with it.
“Because there’s an eclipse to
night on a full moon. I heard about it on the news.” She lowered the binoculars, turned away from the window, and whispered, “What do you think we should do about it?”
“For starters, how about turning on a lamp?”
There was a click and light flooded the room. Aunt Phoebe pulled her cardigan close, still clutching the binoculars.
The last thing I wanted was to start a fight, but I couldn’t keep quiet. “They can see you from the window.” I hoped my tone came off as calm and neutral. In my head, I was screeching. “Or is that what you want?”
“Well, of course they can see me.” She yanked the curtains closed and shook a finger at me. “If they try to get away with anything, I’ll be right there. Never forget, evil hides in the dark.”
More than once I’d thought about getting her a T-shirt with the phrase on it. Two things deterred me. First, she’d take it seriously and see the gift as encouragement. Second, it was true. Real evil existed. It almost never advertised its presence unless doing so gave it an advantage.
And then I realized I’d allowed my aunt to trigger me into personifying evil. Following my imagination was a slippery slope; I had to draw a line somewhere.
“With the guys across the street, calling them evil is going too far. What have they done? Do you have proof? Even if they are shifters, I don’t see why it matters.”
“Did you hear the news?”
“No.”
Uncle Delano answered. “They found another body.”
“A young woman. That’s three this summer alone.” Aunt Phoebe jabbed a finger at me. “The way you go traipsing across that infernal bridge all I do is worry. What if it had been you, they found?”
“It’s horrible that women go missing along the highway, but I don’t know what to do about it. As for the bridge, it’s a lot of things, but it’s not infernal.” I looked at my uncle. “Some help here, please?”
Uncle Delano pushed to his feet with a heavy sigh. He was still wearing the shirt and tie he’d worn to work at his job as editor of the Montemar Times-Journal, which meant he must have worked a double shift. With all the layoffs at the paper, he’d been working longer hours. The shadows under his eyes suggested the toll it was taking on him.
“She might be right this time, Evie. Three young women have been murdered. I talked to the Chief of Police today. He’s pushing a narrative that claims they’re close to arresting the killer. I don’t buy it. I don’t think they know any more than they did after they found the first victim.”
Eying Aunt Phoebe who was clutching her binoculars to her chest, I said, “Sounds like trying to calm fears would be a good thing. What do the mechanics across the street have to do with it?”
“They’re not mechanics and that’s not a garage they’re operating,” she said stiffly.
“It’s a maker space,” I insisted.
“Just anyone can come and go.”
“That’s the point. It’s for people who want to work on vehicles but don’t have a safe or legal location to do so. Other than the noise, how is that a bad thing?”
She waved her free hand at the window. “If you want the numbers, I’ve got them.”
“Numbers? Have you been standing there the whole day counting?”
“I took a break for lunch, and then I stopped for a little while to defrost the casserole for dinner.”
“That’s…” Crazy. No point in going there. It would only make her more defensive. Shifting gears, I said, “Keeping watch must be exhausting.”
Finally, a flicker of doubt flashed behind her eyes. “I hate to let up on the pressure. If we’re not vigilant, who will be? They might see me standing down as a sign the coast is clear.” She sighed. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up. I missed my walk today, I’ve got garden club tomorrow, and I’m a day behind on laundry. Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
“I’ll go warm up your plate.”
“No, sit down, please. I can get myself something.”
She placed the binoculars on top of Wolfgang. “I know you don’t like it when I baby you, but you’ll have to get over it. I need the distraction right now.”
That made two of us.
She disappeared into the kitchen.
My uncle arched a brow. “Well? Where have you been? Or do I want to know?”
I wasn’t ready to tell him the truth. I’d also made a promise to myself not to play dumb any more. “It’s a dangerous world, I get that. Both worlds have their risks. What do murdered young women have to do with the guys across the street or shifters?”
“It’s the fires,” my uncle responded. “They’re burning the habitats of the more feral shifters. Based on the condition of the bodies of two of the victims, the police assume the killer was a shifter. I called around this afternoon and talked to one of my sources with the feds.”
“The same guy from ODiN you interviewed for the magic trafficking series last winter?”
Uncle Delano grunted. “He agrees with the basic assessment, but not the specifics.”
“Sounds like a slam dunk,” I said acidly. “Round up all the shifters. Aunt Phoebe can put down her binoculars, and we’ll all sleep easier.”
He held up a hand. “Slow down. I’m not saying they have narrowed the suspects to one particular group. At least, not officially. Don’t worry, ODiN is doing what they do best, which is a lot of watching and not much else. They lack the manpower.”
“So not reassuring.”
“Shifters that normally stay in the wild are coming into town in droves because of the fires. Crime is up. Then there’s the eclipse,” he explained. “It might not be rational, but people are scared. Since Disclosure, nobody has the luxury of telling themselves the bogeyman isn’t real. Your aunt might be a tad obsessed. It doesn’t mean she’s wrong.”
I remembered Holden saying shifters headed for home under an eclipse. Uncle Delano’s perspective put Shane Blackwood’s actions in a new light. His poker tournament could be about more than cards. If local and federal authorities were looking to pin murders or other crimes on shifters, keeping them off the streets was a savvy move.
In a tone that was more cheerful, if a bit forced, Uncle Delano asked, “How did your day go?”
I pasted an equally forced smile on my face. “Good.”
We both fell silent. It was as if a dashed yellow line on a stretch of hard pavement divided us. We both knew crossing the line might risk a crash neither of us wanted.
“Did you have time to check out the fall classes at the community college? Your aunt said she talked to that instructor again.”
Great.
The beep of the microwave in the kitchen saved me. I got to my feet, grateful for the reprieve. “Sounds like food’s ready. I’m starving. Have you eaten?”
Before my uncle could answer, Wolfgang creaked and shuddered.
Chapter 13
First instincts said we were having an earthquake. I glanced into the foyer and noticed the pendant light fixture wasn’t swaying.
“What the…?” My uncle’s face was aghast, his gaze locked on the piano. His arms had gone rigid, both hands fisted and his knuckles turning white.
The sliding door above Wolfgang’s keyboard flew open. Air gusted through the opening, spewing a cloud of dust particles. The spindles inside the casing began to turn, and the musical scroll rotated.
I watched the ebony and ivory keys move up and down in a kind of daze while music played. I didn’t recognize the song, probably because the instrument had been sitting so long it was out of tune. When I dragged my attention away from Wolfgang, I saw that my uncle was glaring at me.
“What have you done?” he demanded.
“What? Why are you automatically assuming this is about me? It’s not my piano.”
“That thing hasn’t made a sound in sixteen years, four months and seven days,” Uncle Delano said.
Now who was counting?
“I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he thundered.
“I’m not lying. Even if I wanted to use Wolfgang, I don’t know how. If I did, what would be the point? I’m here. There’s no reason for anyone on the other side to contact me.”
I took a minute, casting around for possible reasons in case I’d forgotten something and still came up blank. When Devi had messaged me in the past, she’d used—wait for it—a cell phone. Those instances had been occasions when she was in the Greater World because electronic transmissions couldn’t penetrate the Pale.
How a Hohendorfer player piano functioned as a communication device between the realms I didn’t know. Holden might. I suspected that, if asked, he’d talk about sound frequencies or something.
Devi had named Sullivan as my mentor. Could he be contacting me? Somehow, he didn’t seem like a guy who tended toward magical player pianos. I had a feeling he’d either deliver a message in person or simply not bother.
Who else was left? Kerri wasn’t visiting until next month. She usually got messages to me through her older sister, Mo, who lived in Montemar.
“What if Wolfgang activated accidentally because of the eclipse?” I suggested, remembering the strange purple light on the spire. “Eclipses are supposed to influence the magical currents between the realms. That’s one reason they close the bridge. We’re less than twenty miles away, so—”
“Do you know how many eclipses we’ve had in the last sixteen years?”
“No.”
“A lot. And with all those eclipses, guess how many times Wolfgang woke up—zero—that’s how many.”
I had nothing.
Quick footsteps echoed from the hall. Aunt Phoebe appeared, a kitchen towel in one hand, the other wrapped around the door molding for support. “Oh, my. Oh, no. What is it?”
In a stern voice, my uncle said, “Go upstairs right now.” When she didn’t move, he repeated the command.
“No, Delano. Not this time. I will not go upstairs.”
