There was the sound of a scuffle. “Give me the phone!” Missy snapped and then she was on the line, loud as life. “I know you’re in New Orleans, Breena. I will arrive shortly. That book is mine.”
Another scuffle and Eammon cursed her in Gaelic. “Damn witch,” he muttered. “I can tell you where to start, or where I would start. Homer Underwood. Not a necromancer, but an acquaintance that knows me well. If you use my name, he’ll direct you to the right people at least. He be your best bet.”
“Thanks, Eammon.” I said. “When I get back—”
“Don’t be making promises you can’t be keeping.” He paused. “Don’t hang up. There be more to tell you. That place you thought was safe, that was keeping the fairy cross hidden?”
My hurt lurched up into my throat, and I could barely answer. “Yes?”
“It’s been disturbed and the cross taken.”
15
Eammon could not have dropped a bigger bomb on me if he’d tried. Robert and I had been so careful to keep the cross hidden. Hence the ruse of burying a fake cross under Evangeline’s grave.
The real fairy cross was buried under the oak tree in my gran’s front yard, and I’d thought only Robert and I knew about it. Who had seen us? Who had figured it out?
“Aye, that grave has been disturbed. I did see you bury it there, and said nothing, but it’s been dug up,” Eammon said.
Grave. He said grave, not oak tree.
I breathed out a sigh of relief. “Okay, thanks for letting me know.”
“That’s it? You don’t be more worried? I’d have thought . . .” He paused and then sucked in a sharp breath. “Ah, you be a smart one, just like Celia. That ain’t where it is? A second burying spot was it? Somewhere else. A red herring!”
I didn’t answer his question or confirm that he was right. “Thanks, Eammon, I should go . . .”
“One more thing,” he said. “I hate to even tell you, knowing that you’re already in deep shit, but it has to be said. What is happening here is a bad reflection on us all.”
I looked at Crash, who shook his head, his eyes narrowed. No idea, he mouthed.
“Tell me,” I said. I mean, at this point how bad could it be?
Bad. Really, really bad.
“Your neighbor’s kid, the little girl? She went missing, but they only just be realizing it now. When her aunt and uncle came to pick her up, she was already gone. No ransom note, nothing. Me and Tom took a swing by and her little house goblin was in hysterics, saying the house smelled like a pair of dark witches.”
I almost dropped the phone, because I could not process what he was saying. Charlotte was missing? She was the sweetest little thing. Who would want to hurt her and why?
Crash put his hand under my elbow, holding my arm and the phone up.
With difficulty, I managed to gather myself enough to ask a question. “Eammon, did you and Tom find anything? Anything at all?” Because I knew him well enough to know he would have at least looked. If he was telling me, it was because he’d done that much.
“Nothing,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, lass. I only know what the house goblin told us.”
“I’ve gotta go,” I said. “But thanks. For all this.”
I clicked the off button and handed the phone back to Crash. Penny took my chin in her fingers. “A little girl taken? This is a classic move of the Coven of Darkness. That is how they keep their ranks full. They take them young and talented.”
Numb, I nodded. “She’s a good kid. Her mom is in the army, so she’s away a lot, but Charlotte always has a nanny when she’s out of town. Or her aunt and uncle take her.” I rubbed my hands over my face, thinking about the last time I’d actually spoken to Charlotte. I’d asked her about cookies of all things.
“Did you get cookies from Eric yesterday?” I asked.
“Yes, he sent me off with bags of them. See you in a few weeks, I hope.” Charlotte hurried down the steps, ponytail bobbing, and I watched as she slid into the backseat of a dark blue SUV.
They pulled away from the curb, and she waved at me as she went by, both hands going as hard as she could. I grinned and waved both hands back at her.
Only she hadn’t been smiling, had she? She’d been waving, frantic. I’d