“What does that mean?” Birdie asked. “It really feels like I need fingers. I can’t get it to move. Maybe you don’t need fingers, you’ve been doing this a long time, but maybe I’m too old, I can’t just—”
“Shh,” Tierra said. “You’re a witch. Find the fingers you can’t see. You’ve got them.”
“I can’t even find my phone half the time,” Birdie said.
I laughed.
Smiling, Tierra looked over her shoulder at me and brought a finger to her lips. I nodded, but I was curious to see if Tierra could make more progress with Birdie than I had. I stayed in the hallway to watch, but I was ready to jump in any second, just in case.
Tierra put a hand on Birdie’s shoulder. “You won’t lose these fingers once you find them. They’re always with you.”
“If they’re with me, then where are they?”
“Where are your other fingers?” Tierra asked.
Birdie held up her hands, fingers splayed.
“Feel them,” Tierra said. “Feel inside. Be patient.”
“It helps if I close my eyes. Can I close my eyes?”
“Go ahead. That’s really common.” Tierra moved around the chair and squatted down in front of it, facing the books. “Just make sure you don’t do it when you’re driving.”
I still had trouble doing magic while I was driving. Sometimes, like the drive up to the party, it was worth messing with the traffic flow. But I always avoided doing magic that had nothing to do with the drive itself. Two seconds of lost focus could mean death on a busy freeway.
Suddenly a book—a little board book with a bright cover—slid off the shelf and landed on the floor.
I resisted the urge to cheer.
“Did you do that?” Birdie asked Tierra.
“Nope,” Tierra said. “That was all you, my witchy girlfriend.”
“I felt it,” Birdie said.
“And?” Tierra prompted.
“I found my fingers!” Birdie cried.
Tierra smiled up at her. “I knew you could.” She looked down at the book and reached out a hand. “Now hold it down. Stop me from picking it up.”
“I don’t know,” Birdie said. “Knocking it off the shelf sounded easier. I had gravity on my side.”
“Just try it.” Tierra moved her hand closer. “This time imagine you’re using an invisible foot. Stomp on it.”
My toes curled inside my shoe as I fought the instinct to do the spell myself. Magic could be suggestible, like a yawn.
“What if I hurt you? My eyes are closed. I might break your fingers.”
“A living hand is very different from a book. You won’t be able to hurt me.” Tierra gripped the edge of the book. “Ready?”
Birdie sighed. “I’d already started. Can’t you tell?”
Tierra pulled and pushed the book, but it didn’t move. “Open your eyes. Appreciate your hard work.”
I held my breath, watching to see Birdie’s reaction. A few seconds later, she asked, “Are you pretending? I felt like I’m standing on it, but maybe I’m fooling myself and you’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“No, I never lie.” Tierra smiled. “Except when I’m working. Then I lie constantly.”
“Wow. This is almost as fun as when I knocked Alma over.”
Tierra whistled, turning to me. “She grounded you?”
Smiling and proud, I walked into the room. “She did. In my own home, no less.”
Birdie spun around. “Alma! Did you see?”
“You did great,” I said. “Then and now.”
“And here I’d started with an inanimate object,” Tierra said. “I didn’t realize you were already at an advanced level, Birdo.”
“I like that,” Birdie said. “Maybe it’ll be my stage name. The Great Birdo. The Beautiful Birdo. The Great Beautiful Birdo.”
I went over and squeezed her shoulder, grinning like an idiot.
“I’ll have Nathan make the website.” Rising to her feet, Tierra picked up the book and returned it to the shelf.
“Wait, how did you do that?” Birdie asked. “Did I let go?”
“As soon as you stopped focusing, your spell broke.” Tierra gave her a thumbs-up. “I’m going to bed. Nate wants us to get up early and go for a beach run. If I don’t want to die keeping up with him, I better get some sleep.”
“Thank you so much,” Birdie said, and Tierra left the room, nodding at me as she walked past.
“I’m so glad you two came up this week,” Tierra said. “This is the most fun I’ve had in ages.”
For me too. Maybe it was the wellspring water in my veins, or the salty ocean air, but I felt good. The fairies might be missing for reasons of their own—a holiday, the moon, the tide—and not a demon after all.
After another few minutes of congratulating Birdie, I said good night and went to bed.
But I slept very badly. The next morning, when she woke me by knocking on the door from the connected bathroom, I felt as if I had to climb out of a dark, terrifying hole.
“Alma? It’s almost nine. Did you want to go down to breakfast with me? Tierra said there’s food until ten.”
I groaned and rubbed my eyes. I’d dreamed about demons before, especially when I was in training at the Protectorate, but this had been worse. Like the little book pinned to the floor, I’d been powerless to move as a red-eyed beast dangled me over a precipice. Although I’d kicked and struggled, I hadn’t been able to break free from the clammy hands that had held me over a stomach-twisting abyss that had looked a lot like the rocky shore below Hawk Ranch.
Demons didn’t look like red-eyed monsters—the ones we had to worry about usually took human form—but I wasn’t immune to centuries of human popular culture. Part of me expected a possessing spirit to have sharp horns, waxy red skin and tail, and carry a pitchfork.
“I’m coming,” I croaked out, then rolled out of bed to get dressed. Jeans and a sweatshirt. A shower would have to wait. I needed coffee. Food of some kind. Human company. If I stayed in bed, the evil Shadow in my heart would linger, drag me back into sleep, and kill any interest in healthy living.
When I stumbled into the bathroom to splash water on my face, Birdie drew back at the sight of me.
“You don’t look so good,” she said.
“I never promised to be pretty.” I put my face under the faucet and let water run into my eyes. The nightmare continued to haunt me, making even the tap water feel threatening.
“What happened? Did something happen?”
Eyes pinched shut, I reached out blindly for a towel and felt Birdie thrust one into my hands. “Bad dream,” I said. “It seemed to go on all night.”
“Are witch dreams special in some way? Do they tell the future? Because I had really good dreams. Maybe they cancel each other out.”
“I don’t have prophetic dreams, not that I know of.” I needed to distract myself. “What happened in your dream?”
“I opened a bookstore and could move all the books around with my magic fingers.” She waved her hands, smiling brightly. She’d put lipstick on, and her eyes were made up. Standing next to me, she was gorgeous. I longed to absorb some of that Bright energy.
“You can have a bookstore if you want to,” I said. “You’ve got the money, you’ve got the magic.”
She smiled, looking even better. “That’s true. How about you? What was your dream about?”
I shook my head to dispel the distasteful remains in my mind. “Later, OK? I need coffee.”
On our way downstairs, I paused on the landing and looked out to the parking lot below. A white caterer’s van was pulled up behind the kitchen. Downstairs, I found the bar set up with the coffee I craved. There was also pastries, fruit, and yogurt, but I wasn’t ready for that quite yet.
I found a seat at a table in the corner with my back to the rest of the room, warily watching the ocean with my hands wrapped around my cup. Although I usually kept my eyes on the interior of a room, I wasn’t up for
socializing. If somebody wanted to hex me, they could hex me. I wasn’t in any state to fight back anyway.
Birdie sat next to me with two plates of food. “I got you a bagel. I don’t think it’s gluten-free, but it does have blueberries in it, which should count for something,” she said. “I love blueberries so much, don’t you? I noticed you grow blueberries at your house. I want to grow them too. They’re just so good, fresh or frozen, even dried. What’s the big deal about raspberries when there are blueberries in the world? You ever notice how fancy restaurants are always using raspberry puree on their dessert? What a waste of an opportunity to use blueberries. Don’t you think?”
I resisted the urge to get up and find another table. I wasn’t incapable of functioning in the morning, but asking me to contrast and compare the merits of berries was too much. A significant part of my psyche was still clinging to the precipice with a cartoon demon trying to push me off.
A sixty-something woman appeared at my elbow with a steaming coffeepot. She had spiky, orangish-red hair and an apron embroidered with a logo for Gail’s Goodies.
“Top you up?” she asked.
“Not quite yet,” I said, but I smiled at her to show how much I appreciated a person speaking softly and carrying a large coffeepot. I did a quick scan—demon caterer?—but detected nothing.
“We’ve got granola and quiche in the kitchen, if you’re interested,” she said. “We make the granola ourselves.”
“We?” Birdie asked.
“At the restaurant,” she said, tapping the logo on her apron. “Fort Bragg. Just off Main Street. Come on by sometime.”
Crystal’s voice cut across the room. “Gail, can I speak to you in the kitchen, please?”
Gail’s lips pursed. “Let me know if you’d like anything else.” Then she turned away and walked toward Crystal at the buffet behind us.
I touched my necklace to help me overhear Crystal’s words as she led Gail into the kitchen: “I’ve told you before not to plug your restaurant while you’re working here.”
“But they—”
The door shut, cutting off the rest of Gail’s reply.
If Crystal was blackmailing someone, she and Warren probably didn’t have unlimited resources. Maybe money was tight. Instead of a live-in chef or high-end caterer, she hired casual help from the small city of Fort Bragg, where restaurants were best known for their tolerance of dogs in the dining areas, not as global culinary trendsetters.
A few minutes later, Gail returned with a tray holding two bowls of granola and a carafe of milk. The apron was gone.
“You didn’t get a chance to tell me if you’d like some, so I brought it on over just in case,” Gail said.
Birdie grabbed one of the bowls. “Coconut!”
“I toast the flakes myself. Hope you like it.” Gail set the other bowl and the milk on the table. “Let me know soon if I can get you anything else. I’ll be leaving in just a few minutes.”
“Do you cater here a lot?” I asked.
“Just for the parties.” She didn’t sound happy about it. “I’ll be back around six. Lunch is DIY.”
We thanked her, but she was already striding away.
Darius strode in from the living room, casually dressed today in a hunter-green fleece and dark jeans—a professional man from the city, putting on a show of roughing it for the weekend. The chains around his neck were both gold and silver, and I could sense the shock waves of magic radiating around him as he got closer.
He met Birdie’s eye and nodded, ignoring me. Then Crystal came out of the kitchen with a tray of sliced quiche, each on its own little plate.
I risked a featherlight search of Crystal for any hint of demonic Shadow, but she was too guarded. Her house made her strong.
“What perfect timing you have,” Crystal said, greeting Darius with a smile. “The quiche is just served.”
“No thanks,” he said, staring at her for a moment, unsmiling. “Just coffee for me.” His gaze fell to the tray where her right hand with the opal ring was clearly visible.
To her credit, her smile didn’t falter. She turned to Birdie. “How about you, Elizabeth? It’s lacto-ovo vegetarian.”
Birdie lifted a plate off the tray. “Thanks. Of course, how could I say no? It looks delicious. Did Gail make it? Her granola is really good. I’ve only had a bite, but so far it’s really good. I mean, I’m biased because I adore coco—” She cut herself off and picked up her fork. “Sorry. I talk when I’m nervous.”
Crystal smiled at her. “But why would you be nervous? We’re all friends here.” She turned her smile toward Darius. “You really should try the quiche. The pastry is handmade, eggs and cheese are local. It’s not good to begin the day without breakfast.”
“I’m fine.” He poured himself coffee at the buffet and then took the table next to Birdie and me, facing us with his notebook open on the table.
I fought the urge to move to the empty seat and put my back to him. He certainly had mastered an intimidating stare. The Protectorate loved an agent who could remind witches of its exclusive authority in the world.
I dropped my gaze to the thickest gold chain around his neck. Had Raynor loaned him that necklace, or was it his own? That much gold would be expensive. What were they paying him? More than they’d ever paid me, that’s for sure.
I pushed those thoughts away. Too distracting, unhelpful, dangerous. Darius was good at his job; I hadn’t been. His Protectorate career was progressing; mine had ended. All was as it should be.
While Crystal had been offering us quiche, Tierra and Nathan had arrived and were helping themselves to the items on the buffet. They wore jeans and sweaters, and Tierra’s hair was wet, suggesting they’d already had their run. When their plates were full, they took the table to our left, opposite of Darius. Caught between them, I was unable to avoid the spells probing back and forth, measuring, warning, guarding.
Darius was an active, experienced demon hunter. If anyone could detect a demon among the guests, it was him, right? I rubbed my throbbing temples and let myself stop probing people.
Although Nathan hunched over the table, slurping up granola with a soup spoon, Tierra ate grapes one by one and stared at Darius—which felt like she was looking at me, so I got up to get more coffee.
This was why I usually stayed home. Even something that was supposed to be pleasurable, like an all-expense-paid guesthouse on the beautiful Mendocino coast, was fraught with discomfort. I put a chocolate muffin on a plate, then thought of Birdie and added another one.
Breakfast limped along in awkward silence until Darius stood, put his notebook in his back pocket, and went over to Tierra. “How about a walk?”
Everyone stared at him in surprise.
“Me?” Tierra asked.
“After you’re done eating,” he said.
She pushed away from the table. “I’m done. Let’s go.”
“Why do you want to talk to her?” Nathan asked.
Darius didn’t say anything, just waited.
“Don’t be jealous, Nate,” Tierra said. “I’m too old for him.”
Nathan scowled. “I didn’t think he wanted to—”
Tierra patted his hand. “Be back soon.”
A few minutes later, they were visible in the front of the house, walking parallel to the cliff.
“They’re not walking on the path. The grass is really high there.” Birdie squinted through the window at them. Then she lowered her voice. “That’s because they’re witches, right? They’re staying really far from the edge. Neither one of them trusts the other not to push them off.”
I shot Birdie a look. “Maybe,” I admitted. “But…”
“But what?”
Why did Darius want to talk to Tierra? She seemed unlikely to have Crystal’s confidence or to be one of her blackmail victims. I shrugged and shook my head, not sure of anything.
Chapter Fifteen
Birdie and I were on our own the rest of the day. Everyone else split off
to do their own thing, leaving us to practice spells and relax in the farmhouse. Whatever reason Darius had had for interrogating Tierra—surely that’s what it had been—he wasn’t available afterward for me to ask him about it. If the Protectorate suspected Crystal of being a blackmailer, they’d want to identify any of her other victims—or accomplices.
Which might Tierra be? She didn’t seem like she’d have money worth committing a crime for.
Phil and Zoe never came to the farmhouse, at least not while I was on the ground floor or watching from an upstairs window. I heard Nathan stomping around on the third floor, but Tierra seemed to spend the rest of the day with Warren in his studio. Birdie told me she saw her carry a few of his large pieces from the barn out to an SUV that arrived around noon, but neither of us saw her after that.
A little after four thirty, when the sun was low in the sky, I decided it was time to explore. Dusk and dawn were powerful times of day, and I was more likely to discover something Bright or Shadow during those hours. The missing fae were on my mind, and I wanted to get down to the shore and see if they were nearby, just keeping their distance. Not wanting Birdie to be alone, I invited her with me.
The hike down to the beach seemed too treacherous for daily use; a dotted band of sandy gravel led through loose boulders and scrub brush down a steep, diagonal slope. I wondered why Warren and Crystal hadn’t improved the path until I reached the bottom and saw that the little stretch of beach was actually an isolated cove. By keeping it somewhat inaccessible, the Hawks guarded their privacy from tourists on Highway 1 who might stop and poke around tide pools, watch for whales, collect shells and polished glass, and take advantage of the public coastline that rich property owners like the Hawks wanted them to do somewhere else.
“It’s Phil and Zoe,” Birdie said cheerfully, pointing at a sheltered stretch of sand to the right of the path’s end. “Look, they’ve got a picnic or something.”
Hex at a House Party Page 10
