“Maybe I should come back another day,” I said.
Except I shouldn’t, because I should be fighting the magic. Because Ellie needed me to, or at least that’s what I kept telling myself every time the concealments tossed a head full of confusion at me.
Sif the Golden stared past my shoulder. “Sure thing.”
They were tossing confusion at Sif, too. How was I supposed to fight that? How was I supposed to make inroads when I couldn’t even identify the undergrowth that needed clearing? How could I make life better if I couldn’t make out a goal?
And whose life was I supposed to make better, anyway?
“I’m sorry for bothering you, Sif.” I backed out of the skinny wedge of the doorway, Sal in front of me and the golden elf behind, and pushed my way toward the front of the store.
She continued to stare past my shoulder, but this time she looked out the shop’s big display window. “Is Magnus back? That’s a Tesla.” She pointed.
Expensive cars weren’t all that unusual in Alfheim. Aaron Carlson across the lake drove some German-built SUV. But Teslas were still uncommon.
It slid by the shop like a glossy black beetle on its way to destroy the local crops.
“Who blacks out their windows in Minnesota?” Sif asked.
Sal did not like the Tesla. At all. I latched onto the one non-confusing thing I’d encountered since entering the shop, and pushed my way out the door and onto the sidewalk. “What do you sense?” I asked my axe.
Something, but she wasn’t sure what it meant. There were layers of interacting magic here and she still felt as confused as I did.
The Tesla whined on by and disappeared around the corner.
“I’ll place a special order,” Sif said from the shop’s doorway. “How’s that sound?”
“What?” I asked. I glanced at the elf watching me. She was talking about the bike, not the automobile.
My brain wanted to answer with another umm but I bit it back. “Thank you.”
Sif’s magic shifted upward from its usual low-level shimmer to a brightness closer to what flowed around the more powerful elves. “Alfheim is a land of abundance,” she said. “There are those who wish to consume it.”
Then her magic dropped back into its normal low level of shimmer.
The confusion returned—which meant Ellie’s concealment enchantments had something to do with this moment. What, though, I couldn’t parse.
Sif walked over and put her hand on my elbow. “Frank,” she said, “trust your gut.”
“I will,” I said, and gave her a quick side-hug.
She grinned. “Text the store if you want me to add onto the order.” Then she waved me on my way.
Sal and I strolled down Main Street, but the other decorated store fronts, the music store, and the bead place all, for some reason, wiggled at my sensibilities in a way not unlike what I’d just experienced in the back of Sif’s shop.
My axe vibrated. She, too, found tonight’s confusion disconcerting.
“We’ll figure it out,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I agreed with my own words.
Sal didn’t respond. We walked around the other vehicles in the lot, and opened up my truck. I tucked her into her pocket behind the passenger seat and started up Bloodyhood.
Looked as if I’d return home without a new bike, or mittens, or even a kitten for my niece.
I pulled out of the lot and toward home—and all the confusion that awaited me there, too.
Chapter 11
Isabella Martinez and her brood were waiting to turn onto the road when I pulled up to my driveway. I couldn’t turn in, not with her crossover taking up most of the drive’s mouth, so I waved her through.
She smiled and waved, and Sophia rolled down her window. “Bye, Mr. Victorsson!” she shouted.
“Bye, Sophia!” I called as they pulled out onto the road. The Martinez children all waved as they made their way home.
I parked, and gathered Sal. The sun had dropped below the tree line and a soft golden glow filtered through the last remaining leaves. A cool breeze moved off the lake. Acorns dropping from Lizzy’s oak plinked across the rocks of the driveway like tiny hollow drums.
Autumn receded. Soon the beats would come from shifting ice on the lake—which meant I needed to finish cleaning the garage.
I rubbed at my forehead. The bike still needed fixing—or I needed to figure out how to actually order one from Sif’s shop.
Damned concealment enchantments.
“How am I supposed to fix this problem if I can’t get a firm grasp on the problem that needs fixing?” I half-called toward the trees. “I can’t help if I can’t remember what I’m helping,” I grumbled.
The front door opened. Maura stepped to the threshold and leaned against the door jamb. “Who are you talking to?” she asked.
My elven sister looked tired, which made sense, since she’d spent the afternoon with two nine-year-olds. Her magic shimmered as always, though, and didn’t look any worse for wear.
“Sal,” I fibbed.
Maura shook her head as if neither she nor my axe agreed, but unsurprisingly let it go. “The girls spent the entire afternoon on the deck skipping rocks and painting.” She moved out of the way as I walked into the house. “Sophia’s got quite the arm.” She mimicked a quality rock-skipping maneuver.
“She probably inherited Ed’s eye.” Her father was good with his sidearm.
Maura’s face took on a look of concentration that said it’s more than Ed’s eye, but she didn’t say anything.
“What?” I asked as we walked into the house.
“Nothing.” She opened her mouth as if to say what nothing meant, but closed her lips and walked away, toward the kitchen.
“Maura?” I called. Why would she hide something from me? “Does this have anything to do with why your father hasn’t brought Ed into elf-space?” Because Ed and his family weren’t “regular” mundanes, any more than I was.
Maura shrugged. “It’s complicated.”
I followed Maura into the kitchen and set Sal on her bed, a blanket on top of the mounted cabinets opposite the
