Shadow Web

by Yasmine Galenorn

  I didn’t like having Rowan ticked at me, and now I felt like crap. But I could also see her point. Flopping around like a fish out of water made me look scattered and brainless. Regardless of whether Marnie was a steamroller, if I didn’t erect strong boundaries in the beginning, I shouldn’t be surprised when people tried to take advantage of me.

  “All right, I’ll call her. Though I don’t want to. Do you have her personal number?”

  Rowan texted it to me and I called her.

  “January, hello. What can I do for you?” Marnie sounded aloof and distant, like she was doing me a favor by talking to me.

  “I want to apologize for how abrupt my message was. I should have said no in the beginning, but I didn’t think it through thoroughly.”

  She paused for a moment, then said, “Apology accepted. We try to include our new members so they won’t feel left out.”

  Though I doubted her words, I hadn’t even considered that possibility. “I didn’t realize saying ‘No’ was an option.”

  “We’re not like your grandmother’s coven—we do give our members a lot of autonomy.”

  I bristled but said nothing.

  When I didn’t respond she added, “We’ll see you at the next meeting. Since you won’t be doing the research, you can wait till the usual meeting, which will be on the…let me see here…” she hesitated, then said, “on December 4. I’ll talk to you then.”

  Still feeling like I’d been chastised, but also feeling calmer and proud that I hadn’t knuckled under, I hung up.

  By the time Ari got to my house with her laptop in hand, Rowan and Tarvish were gone, and Killian was out back, still busy with replacing the gate.

  “So Tarvish is going to stick around?” Ari said when I told her everything that had happened.

  “Yeah, he is. If we send him back, he’ll die. Or rather…I guess, vanish—‘cease to exist,’ which is how Rowan put it. He’s too nice to do that to, so we gave him the choice and he’s opted to stay and adapt to our world.” I motioned for her to set her laptop on the dining room table. “Oh, and guess who came for a visit? Rameer!” I showed her the pen that was made out of bog oak. “He brought this to me from Iceland.”

  “That’s beautiful.” She lifted it, judging the weight. “That has a nice heft to it. It feels nicely balanced for writing. And I wager it’s got some magic to it, by the feel of its energy.”

  “Yep. It definitely does, though I’m not sure what kind yet.” I motioned to her laptop. “Let’s get this show on the road. I disappointed my grandmother once today, I don’t want to do that a second time.”

  Ari booted up her laptop and brought up a search engine, then typed in “Majikoil.” A whole slew of links came up. “Well then, there’s a lot to wade through.” She glanced toward the kitchen. “Do you mind if I make myself a latte?”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake, I’m sorry. I should have offered. What do you want?”

  “I can make it, I know how to work your espresso machine. Meanwhile, you can start.” She turned the laptop so it was facing me and I started looking through the links while she headed for the kitchen.

  She was right, there was a plethora of links. I found the parent company and opened up the site. It asked for my location and I plugged in our zip code. The site was splashy, that was for sure, and the home page was a picture of a massive line of oils and tinctures, with a big join majikoil link in the center of the picture. The oils and tinctures were laid out against a background of what looked like the edge of a rainforest and, beyond the forest, ocean waves.

  I examined the menu. The products button led to an extensive list of oils for different conditions, though I did notice the “We’re not doctors” disclaimer prominently displayed. The lists of oils were all attractively displayed, but there was no shop now or add to cart button for any of them. Instead, on the main menu, next to the products button was one that read find a merchant. I clicked on that and the site immediately showed a long list of names, with their locations—anywhere from one person in Moonshadow Bay to five in Bellingham, several in Terameth Lake, and at least a dozen in Seattle.

  I clicked on the join majikoil link and was immediately assaulted with dozens of pictures, among them a number of what looked like events and parties, with women holding up wads of cash and smiling with the headline of take care of your family above them, elderly couples dancing, their canes left at the table, cherubic children running through meadows…every cliché you could think of.

  Ari returned with her latte, and leaned over my shoulder. “Oh good gods, I know you need to make your wares appeal to people, but this screams Stepford Wives.”

  “Yeah, it does.” Even though we hadn’t been born into that time, there was a point in American society—when the suburbs were starting to boom—where every neighborhood was a clone of the next one, where fake lawns were popular, where the strip malls were all the same…basically, where fitting in meant becoming a carbon copy. And it was apparent that Majikoil thrived on that image, as outdated as it might be.

  “Rowan wants us to meet Sheryl Brown in person. Where’s her profile?” Ari asked.

  “Under ‘About Majikoil.’ Her profile says she was working a dead-end job until she thought up the idea for magical oils because she was too broke to buy them, and now, they’ve spread in popularity.”

  Ari pulled out her phone. “What’s our story?”

  “We saw a friend in Terameth Lake using Majikoil oils and she raved about them, so we thought we’d buy some for ourselves. Remember, when she gets here, Rowan said to stress the need for part-time work. I suggest we do this through ordering a few and whining about how we wished we could order more but we’re tapped out for the month.”

  Ari placed the call. Sheryl came on the line and I leaned in close to hear what she said.

  “Hi, Sheryl, my name is Ari and I’m calling you because I’d love to place an order for Majikoil oils.” She paused.

  “Wonderful! I’m free this afternoon if you have the time.” Sheryl sounded breathy and eager, like a twenty-year-old gushing over her sugar daddy.

  “This afternoon would be great. My friend wants to order as well, if that’s all right.” Ari paused again.

  “That’s fine—the more the merrier. Where should I meet you?”

  Ari covered the speaker. “Here?” she mouthed and I nodded. “I’m at her house so can you come over here? Her address is 702 Fern Street…”

  “The upper level of Moonshadow Bay? How about noon?”

  She sure sounded eager.

  “Right,” Ari said, with a glance at me. “On the upper level near Castle Street. Noon would be great.”

  She hung up and looked at the time. “Well, Sheryl was extremely eager to jump aboard our request. She’ll be here in half an hour.”

  “How about lunch? Sandwiches okay?” I wasn’t hungry yet but I was nervous, and right now, a sandwich would hit the spot.

  We fixed our sandwiches and carried them out onto the back porch. It was too chilly to stay outside for long, but I tried to get a little fresh air every day. And even though it was raining and breezy, the clean air cleared my head.

  I bit into my ham and Swiss, staring at the Mystic Wood. “Rebecca’s out there. I’ve gotten so I can feel her when she’s near.”

  “Has she ever tried anything on you again since you got back?”

  “Once or twice, but she can’t do much to me now that I’m an adult. Also, my magic goes beyond her scope. Imps are small potatoes when it comes to demonic creatures. She’s not so bad, as long as I tune out the fact that she tried to kill me when I was young.”

  “Have you ever confronted her about it?” Ari asked.

  “Not really. I’ll have to do that, I guess. It can’t hurt my development. If you don’t yank the bandages off, wounds fester and the last thing I need to do is waste energy holding a grudge against a minor demon.”

  I had been thinking about that incident a lot, and while I didn’t like what Rebecca
was, I had come to realize that she was doing what any creature would who needed to eat. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t a danger to any other children or pets, but if there was a way I could do that without destroying her, I thought it would be worth the time.

  “What else is out there, do you think?” Ari asked. “Who goes into the woods to explore them?”

  “Not that many people. Though you and I did when we were young. I’ve been trying to take a short walk out there every morning, but I’ve been miserable about follow-through as the weather’s gotten wetter.” I frowned, feeling like I was falling short. Druantia herself had directed me to take a walk in the Mystic Woods daily, and when your goddess tells you to do something, you do it.

  “Why does Druantia want you to do that?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “I think to evolve my personal magic.”

  “Do we have time for a short walk before Sheryl gets here?” Ari glanced at her watch. “It’s eleven-forty. We have twenty minutes. We can walk for ten minutes, then turn around and hustle back.”

  Grateful to her—sometimes I was awful at getting off my ass—I wrapped my sandwich in the napkin for easy carrying and we headed down the back steps and across the lawn. Within less than a minute, we were into the wood.

  We had jacketed up to sit outside so we were reasonably protected from the rain, plus the heavy tree canopy in the forest offered good coverage. We strolled along the path, turning to the right when we came to a fork.

  The woodland was hushed because of the rain, with an occasional call that echoed through the forest from birds hunkering down out of the weather. The trees rose huge and towering overhead and I felt a quiet calm flow over me as they wove their magic, draining away the tension of the past few days. The Mystic Wood had its own tension, but it was more of a hushed expectancy, the feeling of being watched on all sides by creatures that lurked in the shadows.

  I stopped, inhaling all the scents that went into creating the mix of spicy perfumes that lingered through the woodland. The petrichor hung heavy, the rain bringing it out of the soil—a combination of wet trees and geosim and the tang of forest debris that wove itself into an intoxicating fragrance. I stopped, breathing out puffs of air that misted in front of my mouth.

  A nurse log had fallen along the side of the path. Covered with moss and mushrooms, it sat beneath three tall firs, all of whom were dripping with heavy layers of the moss that bearded the branches and trunks. The seat was wet but I didn’t care—I wanted to sit here and relax.

  Ari joined me and we spent the next few moments letting the sounds and smells of the forest wash over us.

  “I need to do this every day,” I said after a while. “I feel so much calmer, like I never want to go back inside.”

  “Ah, but you have to,” Ari said. “We’re meeting with Sheryl, and unlike the animals of the woods, we have a job to do. We can only visit within the boundaries of the Mystic Wood. We don’t really belong here.”

  I smiled, standing. Ari did the same. “You know, I think that Moonshadow Bay is synonymous with the forest, regardless of the border that denotes the end of the town and the beginning of the woodland. They’re two sides of the same coin.”

  “I think you’re right,” she said, as we began to make our way back to the yard. “And frankly, I don’t think I’d want it any other way.” She glanced at her phone. “Okay, let’s go meet Sheryl and let her drag us into something I’m sure we’ll regret.”

  As we crossed the lawn back to the house, I glanced over my shoulder at the wood. There, peering out from behind a huckleberry bush, was Rebecca. I raised my hand slightly, waving to her, and to my surprise, she waved back.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sheryl was right on time. In fact, she rang the bell precisely at noon. I wondered if she had been standing on the porch, waiting for the second hand to reach the top of the hour.

  I answered, introducing myself. “Hi, you must be Sheryl? I’m January.” I did my best to plaster on a cheery smile.

  She was carrying a large case, like an extra-large briefcase that was three times as thick as a normal one, and she was dressed in a neat jersey dress and jacket, neither of which looked expensive, but they were neat as a pin, with no stains or spots or signs of age. Sheryl had blond hair caught up in a high ponytail, and her makeup was flawless and what they called “natural”—with taupe eyeshadow, brown eyeliner, and a pale pink lip gloss. She was about five-six, and around a size four.

  “Come in.” I motioned her in. “We can sit in the dining room. Would you like something to drink?”

  “Water would be fine,” she said, her smile intensifying. As she settled into one of the chairs, she said, “I’ve never seen it rain so hard. Have you ever seen such a rainstorm?”

  I shrugged. “We get rain like this all the time. You must be from out of town—this is normal during the rainy season here.”

  “My goodness, what a thought. Oh well, it’s pretty.” She laughed, then leaned forward, her elbows planted on the table. Ari brought in a glass of water and handed it to her. “So, do you two live together?” She spied Ari’s wedding ring. “Are you married?”

  I laughed. “No, this is my house—Ari’s married to a wonderful woman, but I know she couldn’t put up with me, even though we are best friends.”

  “What made you seek out Majikoil oils?” Sheryl asked as though I hadn’t even spoken. She smoothly slid into business mode.

  I glanced at Ari, who said, “We were at a friend’s home in Terameth Lake last weekend, and she had a few of your oils. We fell in love with them. They smelled so good.”

  The website had touted them as smelling “heavenly,” so we could reasonably fudge our way through. We had also noted a few names of the oils touted for electric diffusers so if she asked us which ones, we’d have an answer. Which she promptly did.

  “Which did she show you?”

  “The Lavender Heaven one, and I think the others she had were Spring Perfection, and Autumn Splendor,” I said.

  “Oh, those are some of my best-selling oils. They’re pricey but worth it.”

  “I should think so,” I said, smiling broadly to match her own. “How much are they?”

  Instead of answering, she opened her case and began lining up a bunch of oils, neatly in a row. “Here, why don’t you smell some of our others as well? What are you looking for in a magical oil? I assume you’re both witchblood?”

  Witches could recognize another, so it was useless to lie.

  “Yes, we’re witchblood,” I said. “I think I’m looking for oils to help me focus, to make my home radiate that cozy feeling, and also, something to inspire me. I write.” It was the truth, but I didn’t want to tell her any more than that at this point.

  “Oh, a writer? How exciting! What do you write?” Sheryl sorted through the bottles, setting five of them to the side.

  “This and that. I was co-owner of a magazine in Seattle for quite some time.” I pointed to the oils she had chosen. “Are those ones you would recommend for me?”

  “Yes, why don’t you take a whiff. My company uses only the finest ingredients, sourced from international farms, and we blend them with care, by the phases of the moon.” She turned to Ari before I could ask anything else. “And what do you do?”

  “I’m a hair dresser,” Ari said. “I think I’d like something that would put my clients at ease in my salon. Also, focus would be good for me too, and since I’m a newlywed, something…romantic for the bedroom.”

  Sheryl winked at her. “I have the ticket for turning your bedroom into a boudoir.” She sorted out several oils for Ari and shoved them across the table to her. “Tell me these won’t do the trick!”

  As Ari smelled the oils Sheryl had chosen for her, I picked up three of the ones she had handed me, one by one. Truth was, they did smell delicious. But—and this was a big but—I felt very little magic coming off of them, but they made me want to buy them.

  I wondered how she managed to persua
de witchblood clients that the oils were truly magical, but then I realized that she might not be catering to the witchblood crowd, but instead to shifters and humans, who wouldn’t be able to tell if the oils were legit magical or not.

  “They do smell divine. I suppose the magic works on a subtle basis?” I couldn’t say anything about the lack of energy I felt, but I wanted to give her a chance to talk her way out of the corner she had landed in.

  “Oh yes, we don’t make it obvious or it might put off some people who have a fear of magic. You know how it can be when working with humans and different Otherkin. Shifters tend to shy away from magic and we wanted to make our products friendly to everyone, so we muted the sensation of the magic used in the oils.”

  The answer was glib, I had to give it to her for that. And it was definitely a possibility, though highly unlikely. I recognized a rehearsed speech when I heard one.

  “How much are these?” I asked, holding up the three bottles I had selected.

  “Oh, wouldn’t you like to take a look at the rest of the line? You might find something you can’t live without!” she said.

  I let out a resigned sigh for effect. “Well, I would like to, but I have the feeling that I’d break my budget and I have to stick to it this month. You know, December’s coming and there are gifts to buy, and the economy…”

  A glimmer flickered in Sheryl’s eyes. “That’s a hard place to be. I imagine a writer doesn’t make all that much.”

  “You said it—it’s a thankless job. I do get some nice letters from readers, but fan mail won’t pay the rent. Sometimes I envy people like you. It must be nice to think you’re making a difference in people’s lives in such a direct way.” I glanced at Ari. “Wasn’t I telling you that the other day?”

  “You were. Hell, I make a decent living at my job, but now that I’m married, the expenses are piling up and with us looking to buy a new house, money doesn’t stretch as much.”