My nausea eased, my breathing deepened, and I tumbled into a dream. I found myself beneath the oak tree with Robert, drunk as a skunk, reliving a moment that hadn’t happened all that long ago.
I looked at the book in my lap. I’d flipped all the way to the back looking for a silly saying about houses. The top edge of the back page curled ever so slightly, separated at the corner like . . . it was glued together?
I picked at the edge with a fingernail, still drunk as a skunk but pleased to have a distraction from everything. The glued pieces crackled as I pulled at them, and it slowly gave way under my persistence.
A slip of paper fluttered out, hidden in that pocket between the pages. I picked it up and stared at the words, not really understanding what I was seeing. Of course, I read it out loud.
“Of death and power, of magic and pain,
"That which comes shall find those slain,
"Raised anew and given life,
"A warning alone, this call is strife.”
I frowned at the paper, turned it over to see nothing but a number on it. Three. What the hell did a three have to do with whatever it was I’d just read?
I jerked awake in the back seat of Corb’s Mustang, heart pounding and adrenaline roaring through me.
“I think I have part of the spell.”
10
As soon as I woke, I blurted out what I’d remembered. Which happened just as Corb pulled into the driveway of an ornate house with scrolling ironwork and several balconies on the four-story frame. He drove forward as Penny startled awake. “Where are we now? Holy damnation, we’re here already? Good. I have to pee like a racehorse.”
She quickly mumbled a spell under her breath, and I could feel something slide over us even in the car.
“There, easier than taking you all in one at a time,” the old witch said. “Much less work this way.”
A spell prickled against my skin, one that was all about hiding us.
I looked through the back window in time to see a shimmer slide over the rear of the car, like a glimmering sheet of gossamer material that cut us off from prying eyes.
Magic, I would never get tired of seeing it in action.
“What did you say?” Sarge mumbled, his shoulder bumping mine.
“The stanza,” I repeated, then reached forward and touched Penny on the shoulder, wincing as my muscles pulled tight. “The spell, I think I’ve read part of it. I think I’ve actually maybe got a piece of it.”
“Did you hear me?” How could any of them be ignoring something so important? Then again, I could feel my own bladder demanding action.
Penny swung a hand back and caught me in the face with her palm, covering my mouth. “Stop blabbering, girl, there are ears everywhere. You got to learn not to tell all your secrets in the wide open.” Penny let herself out of the car and the rest of us piled out behind her. My hip bag rumbled, and I flipped it open.
Alan spilled out and stretched as if he had any muscles. “Hardly comfortable, but better than sitting next to him.” He gestured toward Sarge with a thumb.
I rolled my eyes. “Even if you were alive and gay like him, Sarge wouldn’t hit on you. You’ve got no hair and a pot belly, and that’s not even taking into consideration your shitty attitude.”
Sarge looked over his shoulder at me. “Alan chatting you up about little old me?”
I nodded and Sarge grinned. “I’d induct him to my side of the bed if he lost some weight and got hair plugs. Assuming he hasn’t changed since I last saw him alive, he needs a little help being beautiful.”
I rolled my eyes, but Alan stumbled back like Sarge actually meant it. I mean . . . he could not be more homophobic if he tried. “I think the lady protests too much,” I said.
Alan shot me a look. “What are you saying?”
“Just that you . . . never mind.” I really didn’t want to remind him about our lackluster sex life and the things that had made me wonder about his sexuality. I was too tired for a fight of that magnitude with my dead ex-husband after the day and night I’d had.
“She’s saying she thinks you still in the closet,” Feish announced to the air, unable to see Alan, but picking up on our back and forth. “You just