lights back on and blew out the candle. "You also need to do something about your hair," she said.
"My hair! What do you mean?" Tabitha looked skeptical.
Ingrid realized, in all the time she'd known her, she'd never seen Tabitha wear her hair down. Tabitha's hair was brushed back from her forehead so tightly it looked painful, and then it was knotted and woven so that it was almost as thick as rope. Ingrid noticed other things, too: Tabitha's clunky oxfords were tightly laced. Her sweater (it was chilly indoors with the air-conditioning) was tied with ribbons instead of buttons. The woman had more knots on her person than a sailing ship. If she kept it up, there was a possibility that the silver evil could form again. The darkness fed on constriction; it was attracted to it, like moths to flame.
She whispered fiercely, "Try it for once. Wear your hair down. And get rid of those shoes. And that sweater. Wear slip-on shoes. One of those cardigans that open in the front. No zippers. No buttons. Nothing but free-floating fabric. Free. And no knots."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Just try it for a couple months. I read somewhere that it might work, it's like a karma thing." These days New Age wisdom was an easy enough explanation for a little bit of white magic. Tabitha told her she would consider it, but she left the storage room shaking her head.
Ingrid brushed off signs of the pentagram and went back to work, her mind still racing. Of course, wearing flowy fabrics didn't cut it on its own. She had to fight fire with fire, or knots with a knot of her own. When Tabitha wasn't looking, Ingrid took some of Tabitha's hair that had shed on her office chair. Now all she needed was one of Chad's. . . . Then she thought, Tabitha kept an afghan in their car. . . . Chad had dark hair, so it would be easy enough to find one of his since Tab was blond. During her break, Ingrid let herself into Tabitha's Camry and found what she was looking for. Back at her office, she threaded the two strands together, making a tiny, insect-size knot, while she hurriedly chanted the right words for the charm.
Her heart thrummed within her chest, and goose bumps prickled her arms as her fingers worked quickly, twisting and turning. This wasn't magic, she kept telling herself. It was just a few words. A tiny little knot. No one would ever have to know. This was even more fun than removing that blockage; instead of merely cutting out the garbage, here she was creating something. Ingrid felt the magic bubbling inside, the thrilling rush that came from harnessing and directing a wild and unimaginable power to her bidding, and she felt her cheeks turn red with excitement. She had missed this more than she could admit.
"What are you making?"
The sound of the voice shook her and the spell broke. Ingrid quickly put the knot away in her pocket. "Matthew Noble! You surprised me." She didn't answer his question.
"It's Matt, I keep telling you." Matthew Noble smiled. He was a senior detective with the police department and even at thirty still looked like the college athlete he had once been, tall, with light brown hair, a pleasant Irish face, pale skin, sunburned nose, clear blue eyes, wearing his uniform of rumpled sports jacket and tan slacks. She could sense something in the way he looked at her - too frankly and too, well, appreciatively. He was certainly good-looking, but she wasn't interested - not at all - and it was becoming something of a nuisance, his crush on her. It made her uncomfortable. Especially since he never did anything about it. If only he would ask her out so she could crush his crush. Yet he seemed satisfied with merely looking at her and needling her for books. She doubted he ever read them. He didn't seem the bookish type.
"Sorry to bother you, but there was no one at the front desk. And I thought you might have a book to recommend." When he smiled his teeth actually shone.
"I sure do," Ingrid replied, thinking quickly. "Here," she said, pressing J. J. Ramsey Baker's latest into his hands. Ha. See what he thought of that! Serves Matthew Noble (did they live in Our Town? Could his name be even more corny?) right. At least she had found a way