Bewitched (Betwixt & Between #2) - Darynda Jones Page 0,31
they are,” Annette said. “James Vogel. He did call. I remember him now. He said he had a situation he would only discuss with you.”
“When was this?”
She fanned through them again. “Okay, three messages. The first one was about a week ago. Then he called again the next day and again the day after that. That was a couple of days before you woke up. He was very determined but never would give a reason.”
“Why would he stop calling after I woke up?”
“His niece,” Roane said.
“His niece?” Annette and I asked simultaneously.
“The squirrely one. Minerva.”
“From the coven?” Annette asked, appalled. “Only the coven knew about you. She was keeping tabs and told him you’d woken up?”
I tilted my head in doubt. “If that’s so, why was he calling in the first place? He would’ve known I was asleep.”
“True. But he didn’t call for two days before you woke up. Maybe when you didn’t return his calls, he asked her thinking, since she was in a coven, she might know.”
“Because all witches are psychically connected?” I joked.
She lifted a shoulder. “It would explain how he knew where to find you today.”
“Or he’s watching you,” Roane said.
I gaped at him. “Is he?”
He paused and took a moment to scrutinize me. “He wouldn’t still be alive if that were the case.”
Please let him be kidding. Kind of.
“I’m just saying. You’re very powerful. You need to pay closer attention to the vibes you’re getting.”
“Vibes?”
“Whatever you call it. The energies you feel. They could save your life.”
I nodded. He had a point. “So, are we thinking this Minerva told him where to find us today?”
“She did seem really nervous,” Annette said.
“She’s always been skittish,” Roane said. “But she doesn’t usually chew her nails to the quick like that.”
“You seem to know an awful lot about her,” I said, ignoring the fact that it made me sound stupid and jealous. She was just a kid.
At least James Vogel’s messages didn’t glow. The one from before still did. Almost brighter now. More urgently. And another message glowed as well.
I knew it had to mean something, yet a part of me didn’t want to know what. I couldn’t get involved. I was leaving soon. I should be packing. Then again, where would I go? I didn’t really want to drive all the way back to Arizona. Maybe I’d stay with my dads in Ipswich for a while. It was only a half hour away.
As Annette scooped up the messages again, one of the two that glowed fell from her grasp. Slowly, the letters started to glow too, like when I made a symbol in the air.
“What is that one?” I asked, pointing without touching it.
She picked it up and flipped it over. “Oh, yeah, it’s from a man who wants a remedy for male pattern baldness.”
“Seriously?” I leaned forward.
“Leonard Quinn.” She held it out. “For the record, do we do that sort of thing?”
I shrugged.
Roane watched us way too nonchalantly, probably taking notes for Ruthie. The traitor.
“Wait, why that one?” she asked, eyeing me carefully.
“No reason.” Why would a message about male pattern baldness be glowing? My powers made no sense sometimes.
“Yeah, right. We need to talk about Love’s reaction to you in her shop.”
“Who says?” I asked.
“Who says what?”
“We need to talk about her reaction.”
A knock sounded at the door just in time.
I lifted a shoulder. “It’ll have to wait either way.”
“Fine. But we still need to talk about it.”
I stood and started for the door just as something brushed past me. I looked down and smiled. “Samuel.”
He ran up to me and raised his arms like he wanted me to lift him up.
I knelt to him and held out my hand.
He put his in mine, but it slid through.
“I wish I could pick you up more than anything in the world.”
When another knock reverberated through the house, he pointed toward the foyer. “Sir.”
I followed him. “Is that who’s at the door?”
He shook his head. When we got to the foyer, he turned to point up to the balcony.
I didn’t see anything.
Neither did he, I guess, because he frowned and gestured for me to follow him.
The knock came louder this time.
“Let me answer the door real quick, okay?” By the time I got the sentence out, his attention had shifted to the cat that sauntered by like he owned the place.
Samuel tried to pet Ink, but the animal darted off. The boy followed. Even a battle-scared cat like Ink didn’t stand a chance with a ghost child