Jack opened his hands and dropped a fat green caterpillar onto the table. Rose nudged it onto ponente, the “west,” and spat on it. The caterpillar squirmed, but remained put, pinned by the small charge of magic.
This was the old familiar Edge magic. Not flashy or scientific, but the simple earthy kind that worked. Declan would sneer at it, just like all of his lofty friends would sneer at her if she ever left with him. That was fine. She had nothing to prove to him and no intention to give up her freedom. No matter how he looked at her.
Grandma Éléonore snapped a small ziplock bag open and dropped a sliver of the beast’s flesh into the center of the rose. The stench nipped at the inside of Rose’s nostrils. She grimaced and turned away to gulp some untainted air.
“Why does it stink so bad?” Jack clamped his nose shut.
“We don’t know.” Grandma Éléonore motioned them to the table. “Hold hands.”
They stood around the table, holding hands.
“Concentrate on the flesh.” Grandma Éléonore took a deep breath and began to chant.
“All that is from all that was, return to your root, obey my words. All that is from all that was, return to your root, obey my words . . .”
The magic streamed from them, locking onto the odorous chunk. A thin puddle of water spread from under the ice cube, forming a perfect circle. The hunk of granite shuddered, little flecks of quartz glistening. The flame of the candle grew to two inches. The caterpillar writhed.
The flesh in the center refused to move.
They tried it again ten minutes later.
Nothing.
“It’s like it’s not of this earth,” Rose murmured.
“There are other things we can do.” Grandma Éléonore pursed her lips.
They could and they did. Four hours later, Rose could barely lift her head. Grandma Éléonore picked up a rolling pin, looked at the chunk of flesh—their third, the first two had been consumed by various spells —and hit it with the rolling pin.
Rose frowned. “What for?”
“To make me feel better.”
Her cell phone rang. Rose jumped six inches in the air.
“Who’s calling you?”
“I don’t know!” She pulled the phone open. Maybe it was a job offer. “Hello?”
“Hi, Rose,” a male voice said on the other end.
“Hi. Hold on a minute.” She covered the phone with her hand and mouthed “William” at Grandma.
“Go.” Grandma Éléonore nodded to the back porch.
“I’ll just be a minute,” Rose promised.
She went out the back porch, across the grass to the old wooden swing hanging from the massive limb of a gnarled oak. The night had fallen, the darkness cool and spiced with the delicate, slightly bitter scent of Poor Man’s Orchids dripping from the vines winding about the tree and the faint mimosa perfume of nightneedle flowers. The house windows cast off weak light onto the darkness-drenched lawn.
“How did you get my number?” She scooted onto the swing.
“One of your friends gave it to me. The one with green hair.”
Latoya. “How do you know her?”
“I came by your work. I thought maybe I could take you to dinner. They said you were fired.”
She heard real concern in his voice. “Yes, I was.”
“Sorry to hear that. How are the boys taking it?”
“They don’t know yet.”
“So you need a job? I could ask around . . .”
But of course, they wouldn’t hire her. Not with her stellar Edge paperwork. Still, it was so thoughtful of him to offer. “That’s very nice of you, but I’m doing okay for now.”
A faint edge appeared in William’s voice. “I heard there was a man involved.”
Latoya and her big mouth. By now the whole Edge knew she was let go because of a man. Not that she gave a damn about what they thought or said about her. “I wasn’t fired because of him. You see, Emerson, my boss, and my father, they used to be friends. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this . . .”
“Probably because you need someone to talk to. I’m here, and I’ve got time.”
She sighed and pushed against the ground out of habit, starting the swing swaying back and forth. The chain protested quietly.
“What is that creaking?” he asked.
How in the world did he hear it through the phone? “I’m sitting on an old swing.”
“Ah. So what about this Emerson?”
“Like I said, he and my father used to be friends. Then my father left. He went on to . . . to adventure. Emerson stayed behind, married, got a job in the family business, and tried to live a quiet life. I think, though, he always wanted to go off with my father, but never got brave enough to break free. In the last year, Emerson’s life fell apart. He didn’t do so well as an insurance salesman, and his dad made him run Clean-n-Bright instead. His wife left him. He has money problems, and he’s skimming off the top of the business. It’s all crashing down around his ears. I think every time he saw me, he thought of my dad living the good life somewhere. He would’ve fired me anyway, sooner or later.”
“He sounds like a real prize, this Emerson.”
“He’s just an unhappy, angry man. I don’t have to put up with him anymore, and I’m glad. It’s in the past now.”
“You know, you could’ve told me about this other guy,” William said softly. “I’m not afraid of a little competition.”
She hesitated. “William, I thought we had settled this.”
He laughed quietly. It was an odd laugh, deep and bitter. “Don’t worry. I remember where we stand. Since you told me something private about yourself, I’ll tell you something private about me. I never had a family like you do, Rose. That’s why I like you so much. You’re kind and smart, and pretty, and you take care of your brothers. Nobody ever took care of me like that. I think I always wanted to find someone like you to settle down with. To have a real family. I don’t know if I would be good at it, but I’d like to try. I would keep you and the kids safe. Nobody would ever hurt you. Sorry, but I can’t just let you get away without a fight.”
A heavy weight settled on her chest. There was sincerity in his voice that was impossible to fake. He just laid it all out for her.
“William,” she said as gently as she could. “I’m sorry that you’re alone. But I don’t think I—I don’t think
She listened to the long silence.
“You’re an odd woman, Rose,” he said finally. “Most women would enjoy all the attention.”
“I have enough attention as it is,” she murmured.
“From that man who got you fired?”
Rose sighed. “He’s an arrogant ass who thinks I’m lower than dirt. If I could get rid of him, I would.”
“I could run him off for you.”
“No, I think it’s best I handle it myself. I—”
She raised her eyes and saw Declan standing two feet away, his sword on his back.
“Rose?” William asked. “Hello?”
Declan’s eyes blazed like two white stars. He held out his hand. “Give me the phone, Rose.”
“Who’s that?” William asked. His voice lost all warmth.
“Let me speak to him.” Declan reached for the phone.
“I have to go,” she told William. “Talk to you later.” She snapped the phone closed.
“Damn it,” Declan snarled. “I told you to give me the phone!”
