Harper’s features relaxed a little, enough he could shoot me a quick smile as he ducked around James. “I will, Mom. I’m gonna get Lei-li and my stuff.”
“Do you want waffles?” I asked my son’s retreating back.
“Four, please,” he answered, “and Lei-li usually has one, with bananas. She really likes bananas.”
“Two down, two to go,” I said. I watched James’s rear light signal a left-hand turn.
Before leaving with Harper and Leilani, James sat with us in the living room while the teens inhaled their breakfast at the kitchen counter. He explained his husband’s decision to accompany Sallie’s parents to the headquarters for Magical justice on the outskirts of Vancouver.
The Magical system of investigating complaints differed from humans’, and as part of the process of discovery in this type of murder investigation, a necromancer would be assigned to the case. The necromancer would attempt communication with the spirit of the dead hidden folk whose heads had been severed from their bodies. Such communication would entail disinterring the bodies from the burial mound and thawing the heads still stored in the Pearmains’ freezer.
All of this was unfamiliar to me. My heart ached for news of Abi and Cliff and broke for Sallie, who had opted to take her breakfast to the back deck when she saw James. She and Thatcher were glued together on the swing.
“Can I leave those two here, with Christoph, and come with you?” I asked, exquisitely aware of my responsibility to balance my son’s protection with assuaging my curiosity about the process due to unfold in the coming hours and days. A necromancer speaking with the dead was a phenomenon I had neither experienced nor imagined.
“Give us more time to finish disentangling Meribah’s blood from the wards,” said Wes. “Once we’ve done that, the three of us will cloak the property.”
“Isn’t it already cloaked?” I reminded them of James’s frustration at not being able to find the driveway.
“We experimented with the stretch of road from one shared property line to the other. Given what James saw, or didn’t see, it worked.” Kaz folded his arms. “I’m optimistic we can enclose the entire property in a kind of bubble that will allow humans to see what they’re used to seeing and keep Magicals from seeing anything but trees and bushes. But we’ve already talked about our concern around a potential connection between your ancestors and Meribah and the Flechette clan.”
The skin on my legs tingled. “I’m completely unaware of any familial connection between the Flechettes and my aunt prior to Doug and me marrying. I suppose there could have been a professional or business connection. Or maybe their real estate firm handled the sale of this property at one point? Would it help if I reached out to my cousins?” I shrugged. “What about that directory you mentioned, Tanner, the one that lists all the Magicals?”
“The directory I have lists only those living in British Columbia,” he answered, “though I could access directories for the rest of the Provinces easily enough. It’s anybody’s guess how accurate they are. Also, the Flechettes are Fae, and only Fae are granted access to their Faebook.”
“Faebook?” I asked. “Is that like Facebook’s magical cousin?”
Tanner nodded. “That’s exactly what it is. Factions of the Fae who mingle more easily with humans are quite adept at altering human-designed technology and systems—such as social media platforms—to suit their needs. I’ve heard that in order to be listed on Faebook, they’re required to reveal the faces they conceal behind their glamour. If other Magicals had access to that information...”
I gave a low whistle. “One of us should figure out how to sign in. Or hack our way in. For now, I can ask Christoph for more information about my father’s side of my family.”
“While you all work on that, I’ll take dish duty,” said Rowan. “If there’s anything needs doing after, let me know. I can stick around the rest of the day and night, but I’m on call this weekend.”
I smacked my forehead and groaned. “Crap. I woke up thinking it was Saturday, and it’s Friday.” I spun in my seat and patted my pockets. Kerry, my office assistant, was going to give me an earful. “Has any one seen my phone?”
“In the charger on the counter,” said Wes.
Ugh. I had a fleeting moment of wishing I was independently wealthy and could use all my time and resources in the pursuit of furthering my magic. And hosting magical gatherings, complete with one of those professional waffle makers and a bigger coffeemaker. My fantasy—and my call to Kerry—were cut off by the sound of sobbing.
“I’ll get her,” said Rowan. She darted past me and headed toward the back porch. I followed right behind.
Thatcher was standing, his arms around Sallie, bewilderment disfiguring his usually joy-filled face. “Mom. Ro. We need help.”
Rowan’s training in human and Magical healing took over. She guided Sallie indoors and waved at us to follow. “Thatcher,” she said, her voice measured and steady, “do you know if Sallie’s on any medications?”
He shook his head. “Her purse is upstairs. Want me to get it?”
“Please.”
Sallie, choking on her tears and struggling to speak, became a dead weight in Rowan’s arms. As they folded to the floor, Sallie began to gag. She clawed at her throat, and short blades emerged from her fingertips and retracted, leaving ragged punctures and scratches on her skin. Her ears burst into points along the upper curve and reformed as her features shifted non-symmetrically.
“Guys,” I yelled, “we need you.” I held Sallie’s wrists then made room for Wes and Kaz to drop to their knees and assist Rowan. They turned the teen onto her side and cradled her head as she cycled through a series of erratic shifts, threw up her breakfast, and went limp.
“Mom?” Thatcher waited at the bottom of the stairs, a purse edged with fringe hanging from one hand. “What’s happening with Sallie?”
“She’s been away from her
