“Maybe Ivy could pick us up at the restaurant,” Jenks muttered, and I took my eyes from the road, mystified.
“Why?”
Jenks looked at me like I was crazy. “Never mind.”
I zipped around a bus, changing lanes halfway down the block. “Hey, how does my aura look?” I asked, slowing as I tapped the nearby university line. It flowed in with an uncomfortable pinch, but at least I wasn’t dizzy from the ebb and flow of energy. There was a car ahead of me, and I checked both ways before I shifted lanes and took a yellow light. Plenty of time.
“Stop playing with the line and drive!” Jenks exclaimed. “Your aura’s a lot more even than before, and thicker, but only because it’s been compacted down to a bare inch off your skin.”
“Huh. It’s good, though?”
He nodded, his tiny features looking irate. “Good enough if no one takes any more. You just missed the turn for the parking garage.”
“Did I?” I mused, seeing a black Firebird roaring up a block behind me. “Look, there’s a space right out front,” I said, eyeing an open spot on the other side of the street.
“Yeah, but by the time you circle around, it will be gone.”
I looked behind me, then smiled. “If I circle around,” I said, then cut a sharp U-bangy. The road was slick, and the car spun just as I thought it would, turning to face the opposite direction as it drifted into the spot with a soft jiggle when the wheels met the curb. Perfect.
“Good God, Rachel!” Jenks shouted. “What the hell is wrong with you? I can’t believe you did that! Who do you think you are? Lucas Black?”
Grabbing my bag, I turned off the engine and adjusted my scarf. I didn’t know where the confidence for that had come from, but it had felt damn good. “Coming?” I said sweetly.
He stared at me, then pried his fingers off the rearview mirror. “Sure.”
Jenks’s wings were cold as he snuggled in between my neck and scarf, and after a last look, I got out. Chill air smelling of wet pavement and exhaust hit the bottom of my lungs as I took a deep breath, scenting the coming night and calling it good. It was freezing out here, and feeling confident in my best coat and boots, I waved at Mr. Firebird before I headed for Carew Tower.
My boots squishing in the melting slush, I squinted at the light as I adjusted my sunglasses. The bright storefront of an independent charm shop caught my eye, and I wondered how early we were. “Jenks?” I questioned as my steps slowed. “What time is it?”
“Three thirty,” he said, muffled from the yarn he was hiding in. “You’re early.”
Jenks was better than a watch, and my thoughts shifted to the coming meeting with the banshee. Marshal and I hadn’t found anything in my books to supplement my aura after we got ourselves together and actually looked at them. But maybe the owner of a spell shop had something to increase “digestive and sleep rhythms.” There was that failed locator amulet I wanted to check on, too. Maybe I’d just used the wrong kind of carbonic wax.
“You want to stop at a spell shop?” I asked Jenks. “See if they have any fern seed?”
“Oh, hell yes!” Jenks said so enthusiastically that I felt a twinge of guilt. He was so damned independent that it probably never occurred to him to ask us to take him shopping. “If they don’t have fern seed, I’ll get some tansy,” he added as his wings brushed my neck. “Matalina likes tansy tea. It keeps her wings moving well.”
I angled to the small front door, the memory of his ailing wife rising in me. The man was hurting, and there was nothing I could do about it. Not even hold his hand. Taking him to a charm shop was the best I could do? It wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot. “Almost there,” I said, and when he swore at me for my concern, I pulled open the single glass door and entered.
Immediately I relaxed at the tinkling of the bell and the scent of cinnamon coffee. The soft buzz of the charm- detection spell was a mild alarm reacting to my bad-mojo amulet. I took my hat off, and Jenks flew from my scarf to land on a nearby rack and stretch his wings.
“It’s nice in here,” he said, and I smiled as he ruined his tough-guy image by standing on top of dried rose petals and using the word “nice.”
I undid my scarf and took off my shades, scanning the shelves. I liked earth-charm shops, and this was one of the better ones, right downtown, in the middle of Cincy. I’d been here a few times and had found the clerk to be helpful and the selection more than adequate, with a few surprises and the odd pricey item I didn’t have in my garden. I’d rather buy local than use mail order. If I was lucky, they might have that red-and-white stone crucible. Worry pinched my brow at the thought of Pierce with Al, but it wasn’t as if I could do the spell if he was trapped in the ever-after.
Or could I? I thought suddenly, my fingers, running over a stand of planting seeds, going still. I’d be willing to bet Al hadn’t given Pierce a body yet, in effect preventing him from tapping a line and becoming more dangerous than he already was. If he was still a ghost, maybe the charm could pull him back from the ever-after the same way it did from the hereafter. Ever-after, hereafter. What’s the difference? And if I did that-Al would come to me.
A smile overcame me, and excitement zinged down to my toes. That was how I was going to get Al to grant me some respect. If I snatched Pierce from him, Al would come to me. I’d be in a position of power, whether real or pretend. New Year’s Eve was tomorrow night. All I needed was the recipe to make sure I did it right! I didn’t even need to tap a freaking line!
Excited, I turned to the door. I needed that book. Robbie. Suddenly wanting to be somewhere else, I jiggled on my feet, settling back into an anxious bother. I’d see Robbie tonight, and I wouldn’t leave until I had that book and everything that went with it.
Jenks zipped around a display, almost running into me. He was spilling a bright copper glow and I figured he had found something. Behind him, the woman next to the register looked up from her newspaper, tucking her straight purple-dyed hair back behind an ear as she eyed Jenks’s sparkles. “Let me know if you need any help,” she said, and I wondered if her hair was really that enviably straight or if it was a charm.
“Thanks, I will,” I said, then held out my hand for Jenks to land on. He was darting back and forth like an excited kid. He must have found something he thought would help Matalina.
“Over here,” he said, zipping off the way he had come.
Smiling at the woman behind the counter, I followed Jenks’s trail of slowly sifting gold sparkles. My boots clunked on the dark hardwood as I passed the racks of herbs to find him at a nasty-looking weed hanging in the corner beside the gnarly lengths of witch hazel.
“This one,” he said, hovering over the sparsely leafed, mangy-looking sprig of gray.
I eyed him, then the tansy. Right next to it was a much nicer sheaf. “Why don’t you want this one?” I asked, touching it.
Jenks buzzed harshly. “It’s hothouse grown. The wild one is more potent.”
“Gotcha.” Being careful not to break anything off, I set it gently into one of the woven baskets stacked at an end cap. Satisfied, Jenks finally parked on my shoulder. I slowly headed to the front, lingering over a pouch of dandelion seed and smiling. We had a little time yet. I should ask her about the carbonic wax.
The hushed sound of the clerk on the phone drew my attention. She was arguing with someone, and Jenks buzzed his wings nervously.
“What’s going on?” I asked softly as I pretended to look at a display of rare-earth muds. Holy crap, they were expensive, but they were certified and everything.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “Something doesn’t feel right all of a sudden.”
Much as I hated to admit it, I agreed. But the question of what I’d done wrong with the locator amulet still remained, and I headed to the register.
“Hi,” I said brightly. “I’ve been having some trouble getting a locator potion to work. Do you know how fresh the carbonic wax has to be? I’ve got some, but it’s like three years old. You don’t think a salt dip would ruin it, do you?” She stared at me, like a deer caught in the headlights, and I added, “I’m working a run. Do you need to see my runner’s license?”
“You’re Rachel Morgan, aren’t you,” she said. “No one else has a pixy with them.”
A faint feeling of apprehension slid under my skin at how she’d said it, but I smiled. “Yup. This is Jenks.” Jenks buzzed a wary greeting, and she said nothing. Uncomfortable, I added, “You really have a great store.”
I set the tansy on the counter, and she backed away, looking almost embarrassed. “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “Will you please leave?”
