The Vine Witch - Luanne G. Smith Page 0,73

don’t keep track of such things, but witches do.”

“What’s démon dansant mean?” Yvette asked, hugging a pillow against her middle.

Elena recited the rhyme she’d learned as a child, then explained. “It’s magic that hides in the shadows, outside the view of the eye of the All Knowing. And the covenants.”

Rackham added, “To engage in magic with a demon is to flay your heart, mind, and soul open to him on the promise of an exchange of immense power. In what form, I’m not sure. Money, authority, or perhaps even immortality would be my guess.”

“Which would explain the extensive trail of dead animals.”

Yvette flipped over the Queen of Wands. “Merde, you two are giving me the creeps.”

“With good reason,” Rackham snapped, asserting his air of authority once again. “But if that’s what this murderess was up to, they won’t need a trial. Without more blood for her spells, the pact will be broken. That’s how dark magic works. She’ll wither to a strip of leather like the beasts she’s killed.”

“But what if the person hadn’t been caught yet,” Elena ventured. “Would there be a way to recognize them? A dark aura around the pupil? Or maybe a mark left on the skin from the exchange?”

“A smell. That’s what some scholars have surmised. One telltale mark would be the scent the demon leaves in the exchange.”

Acrid, foul, sulfuric—it was something, however vague.

Rackham shook himself loose of her sharp gaze. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I must realign my chakras and prepare for my clients.”

Yvette glanced at Elena out of the corner of her eye before slipping her mask back down over her face. “Thank you for seeing us, Professor,” she said, stacking the tarot cards back on the side table.

“Certainly. Though I would ask that you keep this conversation just between us,” he said. “A little mischief in the dark arts is a fine thing for the reputation, but I don’t want any of this demon business, if that’s what it is, being associated with my work as a medium. Most mortals are flustered enough when they enter my wagon without talk of devils.”

“Of course, Professor.”

He reached out to retrieve the book from Elena. Instead, she made the effort to replace it herself on the bottom shelf. She lingered a second longer, her finger trailing over the other spines, before she twisted around to look at Rackham over her shoulder. “You have a wonderful collection,” she said and tucked her veil back in place.

He attempted a civil nod, though his eyebrows knitted together in a worrisome expression. “I hope you found it helpful, mademoiselle . . . what did you say your name was?”

But Elena was already out the door, a palm-size crystal hidden in the pocket of her harem pants.

They kept their heads down until they rounded the corner of the nearest wagon. The pace of the carnival had picked up as workers scrambled to get ready for the impending crowds. Yvette took Elena by the arm and led her to a quiet space where the outhouses were lined up behind the snake charmer’s tent. There, the younger witch pulled out her cigarettes and struck a match. She sucked in a deep breath of smoke, then let it out slowly. “You’ve got sticky fingers,” she said when she’d calmed down.

“You saw that, did you?”

“You might be good at spells, but I’m very good at stealing.” Yvette sat on a bale of hay and flicked the ash off her cigarette. “No one survives on the street without knowing how to snatch a bit of this and that to get by.”

“I’ve never had to steal anything before.”

“Lucky you. So why now?”

Elena took the crystal out of her pocket. “I could sense the strong protection aura emanating from it. If I can find the real murderer, I’ll need all the protection I can get. You won’t tell him, will you?”

“No one survives the streets for long if they snitch, either.” Yvette took a deep puff on her cigarette.

The faraway look in her eye when she exhaled stirred a sisterly instinct in Elena. She had to restrain herself from smoothing the girl’s hair back from her face and telling her it would all be okay. Instead, she sat beside her, feeling the morning sun warm her face through the veil.

“You said there wasn’t a pattern to the killings, but there is,” Yvette said after a pause. “I didn’t want to say in front of the Professor, but I’ve seen the same thing before.”

“You recognized something?”

“It’s