Ammon hurries past me and shuts the door to the chamber. His shirt is missing a sleeve, and his pant leg has rips going down the side. Fiona’s usually perfectly styled hair is a mess. Then there’s the fact that both of them are splattered with blood. My blood. Or Dudley’s blood.
“I trust that went well,” I mutter.
“Percival,” Ammon says. I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean until Jack Skellington appears beside me with the two wooden boxes. He shoves them into my chest even though I’m still holding my boots.
“Maftūh,” Ammon says. The manacles open on their own. The one on my right wrist falls and crashes down on my pinky toe.
“Ow!” I shout and grab my foot with a free hand.
Ammon turns to Fiona. “Get her out of here.” He marches down the hall and disappears around a corner.
Percival turns to Fiona. “Follow me.”
Fiona grabs me by the arm and begins to drag me down the hall behind Percival but immediately pulls her hand away. It’s the first time the normally touchy-feely Fiona has ever recoiled from our contact. She looks at my eyes as if she’s never noticed them before.
“It’s me,” I assure her, still rubbing my toe.
“We’d best be off right away.”
“Hold on. I don’t have my boots on.”
“Put them on in the lift.” She grabs me again and hauls me through the club, this time not letting go. The members are lined up and watch from a safe distance as we walk past. They are on guard, so I suspect whatever ruckus I made in that room penetrated the walls.
Percival waits at the elevator, holding the door open for us. I limp inside then realize I’m alone. When I turn, I catch a glimpse of Fiona hesitating. Whatever she saw in that chamber has given her second thoughts about climbing into an enclosed box with me. She steels herself and steps inside the elevator.
The doors close, and we’re descending. I plop down on the floor with my boxes and pull my socks and boots on. I stay seated on the elevator floor, my legs sprawled out before me.
“Did he get what he wanted?” I ask.
Fiona doesn’t respond. She begins fumbling in her purse as if I’m not there.
I push for a response. “What happened in there?”
She pulls out a plastic zipper bag with two peanut butter cookies. “Here,” she says, extending it to me without looking.
Just like a trip to the Red Cross. I snatch the bag and tear into the cookies.
As the elevator settles, Fiona finally says, “You need to get that cursed thing out of you.”
Chapter 28
____◊____
THE COFFEE SHOP WHERE we meet Paige is quite nice. Fortunately, they have full leather club chairs—perfect for collapsing into a ball after an afternoon of failed demonology.
Paige’s eyes bounce up and down as she looks at me. “What happened to you? Where’s your shirt?”
I pull the warm tweed jacket closed and munch on my peanut butter cookies while Paige harasses me about what happened upstairs. The cookies are pretty good, so I take a few moments to enjoy them despite Paige’s verbal assault that drones on and on.
Fiona orders coffee at the counter. Just before she entered the café, she donned big dark sunglasses to hide her identity. Her incognito mode doesn’t work, so she has to sign autographs and pose for two selfies with fans while she waits for her order.
Paige refuses to relent, so I’m compelled to tell her what happened upstairs. She goes ballistic.
“Calm down. It was my decision,” I tell her.
“Calm down?” she says, even more furious now.
Fiona returns and hands me a cup of coffee. Paige directs her anger on her. “You selfish old hag! I knew we shouldn’t have trusted yo-fth—”
Without saying a word, Fiona calmly zips her purse closed. Paige’s lips tighten. She struggles to open her mouth but can’t.
“Let’s not make a scene,” Fiona warns her, glancing around. “I cannot afford to have this tirade appear on social media. I still have a reputation to uphold. Please calm yourself.”
Fiona daintily lifts her coffee and takes a sip. She turns to me. “Drink up, dear. I promise it’ll set you right.”
I have no doubt of that. Paige sits here, arms crossed, and listens silently as Fiona and I reveal why I did what I did and what is in the two boxes.
When my coffee is finished, I do feel much better. After two peanut butter cookies and a cup of joe, it’s like my hit points are back to full. Fiona unzips her purse, and Paige’s jaw drops open. She rubs her mouth to get the feeling back, glaring at Fiona.
“I’m sorry, but you were grousing like a fool, and it was neither the time nor place.”
“Don’t ever use your witchcraft on me again,” Paige says.
Fiona reaches for her purse again. When I grab her hand, she flinches. I try to make eye contact with her, but she refuses to look me directly in my yellow eyes. I must have done a number on her.
“Knock it off, both of you,” I say, trying to move past the awkward moment. “Paige, we did what we had to do, and I need you to get on board. Fiona, no more hexing Paige. Got it?”
I’m chastising them and putting my foot down. A new dynamic has settled on the three of us, and I’m the grownup. It’s weird, and I don’t like it.
“Fine,” Paige says. “What’s our next move?”
“Well,” Fiona says, standing up, “I’m quite sorry, but I’ll be leaving you for the rest of the afternoon. I have meetings at my office.”
“You’re not coming with us?” I ask, concerned.
Her eyes still refuse to meet mine. “You can use the Rover,” she says, tossing me the keys. “I’ll be at the lot. Come to us when you’re done.”
“What if we need your help? I don’t even know how to use these things,” I protest, indicating
