Bewitched (Betwixt & Between #2) - Darynda Jones Page 0,36
do you know?”
“Research. There being so little known about charmlings, I’ve had to dig. But I found a few accounts from eyewitnesses. It’s the only way to explain how you were able to pull something like that off.”
In all honesty, we didn’t know for certain I’d pulled off anything. “And when would I have done this?”
She lightly tapped her lips in thought. “If my calculations are correct, you did it when you were three.”
“Three,” I said, even more doubtful than I’d already been.
“Yes.”
“As in years old?”
“Exactly.”
“And I did this because . . .?”
“Like I said, I never figured that part out. But the presence you felt could explain a lot.”
“Ruthie,” Annette said, clearly having some trouble with this as well. “What makes you think she did it?”
“It’s all in the book.” Ruthie looked at me like I was the crazy.
I felt very attacked. There were levels of crazy. Layers. It wasn’t like I was the absolute worst. And hey, hadn’t she just claimed crazy for herself a few seconds ago for even bringing all this up? I mean—
“And it’s in the video,” she added. “You never finished either of them, did you?”
My hackles rose. “I’ve been a little asleep.”
“You woke up days ago.”
“Yesterday,” I reminded her. “Evening. Literally twenty-four hours ago.”
“And we needed mani-pedis,” Annette added ever so helpful.
“What video?” I asked. When her only answer was to purse her lips, I turned and slid my laptop off the nightstand. “I was just finishing them.” Honestly, it was like high school all over again with all the homework she assigned. “That’s why Annette came in here. To finish watching them with me.”
“Yep.” She backed me up. Then ruined it by whispering, “What videos?”
“The videos,” I said from between clenched teeth, as though Ruthie couldn’t hear me.
When Ruthie died, she left me a series of videos to watch. Then I pulled her out of the veil. I just figured I didn’t have to watch them anymore with her being back and all. I was wrong. Apparently, in Fraulein Goode’s class, you watched all the videos whether Fraulein Goode was dead or not.
I opened the laptop and clicked the folder I’d colored pink. It opened to four files. One was the link to Ruthie’s message, which basically was her chatting with us from the great beyond, because apparently they have WIFI there.
“Okay, we watched that one,” I said, pretending to check it off. “And that one.” I checked off the one titled Missing Child. It was the one of me finding a boy—finding Roane—for his grieving mother. It was an amazing video. I’d learned how to use my power to find things by watching it.
Out of the two, it did sound the most promising. I moved the cursor—
“Watch Goodbye,” the Fraulein said.
—and double-clicked on Goodbye. “Fine, but it doesn’t sound nearly as fun.” I scooted against the headboard, and Annette snuggled close.
The last video we’d watched, the one of me saving Roane, had been filmed at night. It had been hard to get a sense of the colors and the environment. This one had been filmed during the day. Early morning, if I had to guess.
Sun shone brightly through the huge plate glass in Percy’s front parlor, where two men stood. My dads and their handsome faces. Forty years younger, with horrible haircuts, but still they were the same.
A younger version of Ruthie, probably in her early forties, walked into the parlor carrying a sleeping little girl—a.k.a. me. I recognized myself from the earlier video. She handed me over to them along with a duffle bag. “This has her favorite stuffed animal, a cat named Clam Chowder, her pajamas, and her favorite sippy cup.” Her voice broke.
Tears burned the backs of my eyes. This was the big day. The day she gave me up.
“Gigi?” I woke up in the video, though sleep still clung to my face. “I haduh lock the doors for a long time ago so Bead-uh couldn’t get out.” Laying my head against Dad’s shoulder, I fell back asleep.
“Okay, sweet girl,” Ruthie said.
I remembered none of this.
“I’ve got you, cariña,” Dad said.
Papi rubbed my back and lifted a blanket to cover me all the way over my head.
“These are all the documents.” Ruthie handed them a folder. “You adopted her through Sacred Heart Adoption Services.” Her voice cracked again.
Dad gave her a minute before asking, “You did the spell?” in the same soft accent he still