However, one more question wouldn’t stay unasked. “Do you recall smelling apple pie last night?”
Jack gave me a look that said I was clearly crazy. Then his facial features softened. “She used a lure on me.”
“What are you talking about?” Even as I asked the question, I already knew the answer.
“Some Magicals purposefully emit a scent that’s meant to mask their actions or intentions or seduce whoever they’re going after.”
“Is there a way to avoid the effects of the lure?” I’d never met anyone who could resist the smell of fresh apple anything.
“Plug your nose?” he said. “Chew something that counteracts the lure, like garlic or mint leaves.”
And that explained why Tanner’s natural scent always carried whiffs of mint. “Thanks, Jack.”
He glanced at the notepad he’d scribbled on. “Getting back on track, you said this Jessamyne person is not related to the Pearmains.”
“Correct.”
“Do you know where she might have taken them when they left the hospital?”
“The nurse I spoke with said Cliff and Abi were on their way to a private clinic. The only one I know of that caters to Magicals is the—”
“Grand St. Kitts,” Jack said, finishing my sentence at the same time he sat up straight, tossed his pen to the side, and opened his laptop. He found the clinic’s website and punched the number into his phone. After identifying himself, he asked if they had any information on an incoming elderly couple. Any reservations would have been made by their granddaughter, Jessie Pearmain, he added.
“We did,” the man on the other end said. Jack had him on speakerphone. “But their stay with us was cancelled less than an hour ago.”
Asked if he had any more information, the man at the clinic answered in the negative, and Jack thanked him for his time. He drummed his fingers on the desk.
“I don’t suppose you have any idea where they might be off to next?” he asked, staring at his laptop.
“I might,” I admitted.
Jack gave me a wolfish look that was very different from the face he wore in his official capacity as an officer of the law. He didn’t have to tap his nose for me to know he was on high alert for any dissembling I might be tempted to try.
“But I can’t tell you.”
Truth was, I didn’t know what the Apple Witch wanted with Cliff and Abi or where she could possibly be taking them. I was getting more and more concerned at the toll all the moving around might be taking on the elderly couple’s bodies, and I doubted Jessamyne was altruistic enough to bring them to their home to recover.
Jack walked me to my car. He made me promise I would keep him apprised of everything related to the Pearmains. Now that I was all the more aware of Magicals, my curiosity was piqued. I tried to picture what kind of wolf Jack shifted into. I almost asked, before deciding the whole segment of our conversation devoted to body odors had been enough revelation for one day.
Once at home, I stripped the labels I’d affixed to the tea cups and saucers. Thatch left a note under the teapot, letting me know he and Sallie were off on a “lumber acquisition” mission with Christoph and Wes. Returning everything to the cupboard generated a lot of noise, as my hands shook and the thumping coming from my heart echoed in my ears. I turned on the tap until the water ran cold then filled a glass and drank.
A quick tour through the house showed the guys had made an effort to straighten furniture and fold and stack blankets and pillows. I decided to pack up my office while they were out shopping and move everything across the hall to my bedroom. While sorting, I could search for an empty notebook to use as a grimoire.
Stepping into my office and closing the door enfolded me in a sensation of being safe. For a little over two years, it had been just me, Harper, and Thatcher living in this cozy A-frame. When I mentioned I lived in a three-bedroom house with two full bathrooms, people imagined a far more palatial property. But I—we—loved this house, and it represented so much more than a bunch of walls and a roof that gave us shelter and kept out the rain.
Palms pressed to the wood at my back, I closed my eyes and coaxed my way into my house’s straight, smooth beams and bones. Followed along as neurons fired through the wiring we had updated when we moved in. Stroked its shingled skin, warmed by the sun and defended by a supple overlay of energy.
My eyes flew open. I had never tried to describe my relationship with my house to anyone. Not even my sons. If the boys felt any of this, they had never mentioned it to me.
“Where did she hide her things?” I asked, my voice a cajoling whisper. “Her magical things.”
On the surface it seemed silly to ask a house if a former occupant had stashed any belongings in places not obviously visible.
I took in a long, deep breath, let the oxygen expand my lungs, and softened my gaze so I could see the entire interior of the room. A response from my house could show up anywhere, though if I was waiting for something dramatic, like an object toppling from a shelf or sliding down a wall, I was likely not going to get it. The few framed watercolors and embroideries on the walls had been added after I moved in, the room had no closet, and the only shelf was the one I’d rigged underneath the desk.
My eyelids started to twitch. I stopped with the attempt at becoming all-seeing and all-knowing and spoke the obvious.
“Okay,” I said, “this isn’t working.”
A chittering kingfisher, hot on the tail of an interloper, swept past the open window at the end of the narrow room. I tracked
