I tried to sound rational. “He has every reason to, Erica. If the Basilisk King gets rid of me, he’s one step closer to placing someone else in the position of alpha female. Your dad would do anything for you.”

  Those actions included putting a target on my back and sending basilisks to trash my belongings. It was rather clever of him to kick me below the belt.

  Erica gave me a hard look then her head sharply turned toward The Bends. “You’re right. He would.”

  I pulled out my phone, and an ocean of emotions passed over Erica’s face: anguish, anger, then fear.

  She quickly spoke. “I know we’re still working on trusting each other, but I need to ask you for a favor. The kind of favor I don’t deserve.” She swallowed and wiped away a tear. “Give me a couple of hours to speak with my father.”

  “Excuse me?” My voice went hollow. She had to be kidding. Oliver had to answer for what he did.

  “You know what will happen if Thorn and the pack is involved,” she pleaded. “They’re either kill him or he’ll be banished and marked as a rogue.”

  I saw her side. I really did, except what he did was very wrong. I asked, “Wouldn’t he deserve at least banishment for what he did?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes, he does and he’ll pay a price for what he’s done.”

  What price does she mean?

  I took a deep breath. “Okay, say you do ask him to leave. Would he be willing to go if you tell him to do it?”

  She thought briefly. “Yes, he’ll do it or I will end him for shaming my family.”

  So there it was, and it chilled me because, if push came to shove, would my family have decided to end me for shaming them?

  Erica added with a nod, “He’ll go because Dad only loves one thing more than he loves power. He loves me.”

  As a sign of good faith, Erica took me with her to her father’s home. My hands itched to call Thorn so the pack could sort out this matter. Could I truly trust a man, like Erica’s father, who was willing to let basilisks roam the streets and attack innocent bystanders?

  The need to exact justice melted away as we pulled up to a tiny, dark blue and beige house off 12th Street. It was cozy, but without the stench of wealth. Oliver had lost his beautiful home with its manicured lawn, drove around in an old BMW to save face, and now he’d lost his only daughter.

  I waited in the car, imagining the conversation taking place in the house. Would Oliver storm out demanding the pack listen to him? I watched the door, expecting the knob to turn and for the Holdens from the past to show up.

  But the sun dipped below the horizon and the only roar was from a TV through the open windows of a house across the street. After a while, the door opened, and only Erica trudged outside. Her eyes were red and her face puffy. She didn’t speak until she got in the car.

  “Thank you,” she said thickly. “He’ll be gone by midnight.”

  “And if he tries to return?”

  I lowered my gaze to my purse in my lap to give her privacy as she broke into hard sobs.

  For a brief time she didn’t speak. Finally, she said, “Then I’ll kill him myself.”

  Chapter 27

  After a somber trip with Erica to her dad’s home, she dropped me off at Barney’s to wait for Aggie. I asked her to drop me off at home, but she didn’t want me to be alone.

  “The Basilisk King is still out there and you’re a target,” she whispered. “Don’t worry about the rocks. I’m going to bury them in Double Trouble.”

  I merely nodded and watched her pull away.

  Seeing the crowd at Barney’s—with everyone going about their Thursday evening as if nothing was wrong, didn’t settle my rattled thoughts. Was I wrong for not telling Thorn about this?

  No, if there was one thing I could trust about Erica, she cared about the pack as much as she loved her Dad.

  Aggie plodded over to me and offered me some chow. She wore khaki slacks and a business polo shirt. Her normally thick hair was tamed into a respectable bun.

  “You doing okay?” she asked. “You look so sad.”

  “I could use some food.” And a stiff drink, but Barney’s didn’t serve any liquor.

  Aggie gave me a complimentary sandwich, as well as an oversized pickle, and I let my thoughts wander. On the one hand, I mused, at least no one would be setting traps with the pebbles, but the Basilisk King still threatened my grandma and me.

  I considered my next step and remembered I had an unanswered question today: the foreign words I’d heard The Bends’ wall utter.

  I pulled out my smartphone and checked the words through a translation app. I got these results: The strength of the goblin’s chisel will strike his enemies.

  Whoa. I had no idea what those words meant and now wasn’t the time to interrogate the goblin. The Bends still had secrets and I’d uncover them sooner or later.

  Time passed. The early evening sun beat down on the asphalt and heat radiated toward the windows. The heat didn’t hinder a mated pair of Cooper’s hawks from hunting rodents along the Parkway. I focused on them to take my mind off my troubles.

  Across the street from Barney’s, an acreage lot left plenty of room for trees and wildlife. A female with a speckled beige and white breast scoped out her prey from the top of nearby oak and elm trees. Young rabbits skirted from one hiding place to another, unaware that they were being tracked. One rather plump cottontail in particular ventured toward the fence away from the tree’s shade and the thicker clusters of fresh grass.

  I took a sip of my drink, not wanting to look away. This was gonna be good. These birds didn’t play when it came to hunting.

  The closer the rabbit headed out in the open, the faster my heart sped. My fingers tingled from anticipation.

  From above, the hawk’s head lowered. The female’s wings fluttered and she took flight, swooping left only to dive hard toward the rabbit. The female’s prey flinched, calculating the safest path. The rabbit darted toward the tree line—only to stop hard as another hawk, the male, appeared from the other direction and flushed it back toward the fence.

  With a shriek, the female swooped down and snatched the rabbit.

  I pumped my fist and took a bite of my sandwich.

  Well done, birds.

  While I finished my meal, feeling a bit more at ease as I enjoyed the warmth of the wheat bread and turkey with Swiss cheese, the sequence of events played through my mind again and again. Werewolves often steered their prey into traps. Would such a plan work for prey such as the Basilisk King? But how?

  And what kind of trap could hold a dude that could dematerialize at will?

  Aggie slumped into the seat across from me. “You still look deep in thought.”

  I wanted to tell Aggie about what happened with Erica and Oliver, but I decided to deal with protecting my family.

  “I asked Bill about letting me keep Grandma in his store room since he has powerful wards covering the whole place.”

  “I’m sure he said no.”

  I inhaled a homemade chip. “Actually, he agreed.”

  “Be careful, Nat. He’s gonna want something out of this.”

  “Already considered that.”

  Aggie crossed her arms. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Huh?”

  “Since you faced the Basilisk King, you’re a lot more flexible and on the defensive. That’s good.”

  “Every good defense requires offense though.”

  She slowly nodded. “Last I recall, the basilisks dragged your football team’s ass up and down the field.”

  I swallowed past the fear welling in my stomach. The feeling of the basilisks overwhelming me rose, but I drop-kicked the feeling away.

  “The magic I used to dispatch them worked well—but the execution was flawed,” I surmised.

  Aggie stole one of my chips. “I thought magic wasn’t an option.”

  My gaze flicked away from the street to Aggie. “Magic is a double-bladed knife, but perhaps I can learn to wield it properly.”

  “From who? Are you still in contact with the chick who taught you in the first place?”

  “No, I haven’t heard from Tamara in months.” I shook my head vehemently. “Tamara was willing to sacrifice herself to get what she wanted. She played in deadly magic, and I don’t vibe well with that.”

  Aggie nodded. “What options do you have left?”

  I opened my cell phone and shot a text to the one person who might have an answer.

  The next morning, I woke up on the couch in a tangle of covers and pillows. Aggie and I stayed up late binge-watching Bruce Willis films. I vaguely recall watching Death Becomes Her to classics like Die Hard. (And, yes, to me Die Hard was not only a Christmas movie but the best Christmas movie.) Aggie even started a drinking game for each time Willis said one of his ultra-famous wisecracks. And damn it all the hell, I knew them all.

  Now that I thought about it, she did it on purpose to make me forget my troubles.

  I still hadn’t told anyone about Oliver’s actions and I missed Thorn, but I understood why he remained at my grandmother’s house. He loved her as much as I did.

  My phone dinged and I unfurled myself from my covers to pick up the phone.

  Looked like I got my reply to my question last night: Meet me at the Four Winds Roadside Eatery at ten.

  “Who’s that?” Aggie asked from underneath her blankets. She had a tiny hole for air.

  “I asked for help and I got it.” My phone read a few minutes past eight AM. “Want some breakfast?”

  She peeked from under the covers. “You know how to make a girl happy with pillow talk.”

  I laughed and threw a pillow at her. “Here’s some pillow talk for ya. You got an hour to wash your hair and get dressed.”

  “Ugh, if food didn’t complete me, I wouldn’t bother washing my hair for you.”

  A little over an hour later, we arrived at the Four Winds Roadside Eatery. The place was a supernatural, family-owned business run by wind witches. As I’d grown up, I never enjoyed the Eatery’s “rustic” charm, but my family loved the generous portion sizes. The unusual and undercooked meals made me cross this place off my tolerable list a long time ago.

  Burn the bacteria away, I say.

  We entered the restaurant, weaving around the tables of humans and supernaturals eating their chow. With its worn white tables and mix of red and green seats, the décor in the Eatery bordered on eclectic. Enchanted paintings lined the walls for the supernatural customers. The old television in the far corner wasn’t as appealing as the painting of the Viking raid on the village to my right. The rest of the wall space had questionable shelves that held jars, vases, and containers full of who-knew-what.

  Aggie spotted the person I wanted to meet: Brenna.

  “Where’s Nick?” Aggie asked.

  “I didn’t contact Nick. I texted her directly,” I explained.

  Her mouth formed an “oh” as we headed up to the counter.

  “Want to eat first?” Brenna asked.

  “Sure, let’s get a table and we can chat while we wait for our grub,” I said.

  Brenna directed us to a four-seater table in the far corner. From an enchanted pocket in her purse, she withdrew a beautiful wand and tapped the edge of the table.

  “What did you do?” Aggie asked.

  Brenna slid into the closest seat. “I masked us from the human ears nearby.”

  “Perfect.” I took the seat next to her and Aggie sat across from me.

  A gray-haired waitress with a generous waist sidled up to us with a grin. “Well, good morning, you rays of sunshine!”

  “Hey, Gertie!” Aggie said, clutching the menu with glee. “Your kitchen is cooking up the good stuff.”

  Gray-Haired Gertie, the eldest of the three sisters who owned the Eatery, returned a grin. “You want the usual, hon? Three Hairy Navel specials?”

  Just hearing the words hairy and navel together never seemed appetizing. Even when I was a kid. I couldn’t shake the image of picking bellybutton lint from my teeth.

  My hand rose. “None for me. I’ll take a stack of bacon—burn it beyond recognition.”

  Gertie pulled out her notepad. “Okay, one Hairy Navel and some charred piggies. And you?” she asked Brenna.

  The earth witch took in the menu quickly. “A hot bowl of root vegetable soup sounds good. What kind of tea do you have?”

  “Sweet tea?” Gertie supplied.

  Brenna made a sour face. “Sacrilege. That’s not the tea my mama makes.”

  The wind witch clicked her tongue and winked at us. “We got packets of herbal tea from the sampler set at ShopRite. One of those should work.”

  Brenna opened her mouth and shut it again. I shrugged and the earth witch shook her head with amusement.

  With our orders done and Gertie gone, Aggie crossed her arms and glanced at both of us. “So why are we meeting?” she asked.

  “I sent Nick a text last night and asked him for Brenna’s information,” I offered. “I have questions and she’s the best one to answer them.”

  “About what? I know as much about the Basilisk King as Nick,” Brenna replied.

  I drew in a deep breath and considered my words before I spoke. “I’ve faced the Basilisk King once, and another confrontation is coming soon.”

  I told them about my tentative plan to deal with the Basilisk King, and I definitely piqued their interest.

  I continued with, “I was hoping you’d be kind enough to help me master the fundamental exchange.”

  Aggie’s head cocked to the side. “Master the what?”

  Brenna slowly nodded. “You’re asking about a thing even great spellcasters haven’t mastered.” She regarded Aggie with patience. “Magic in many ways is like the law for the conservation of energy. You can’t pull the stuff out of nowhere. There has to be a source.”

  Not far from me, the earth witch wand on the table shifted. Was something wrong?

  Brenna kept talking. “If you want to protect yourself again, I suggest you find a power source to tap into—other than using yourself.”

  “Where does she find those?” Aggie asked.

  “Good question.” The witch rested her head on her hand. “You need a relic that emanates power and those are rare. Like Hotep’s Rod, Caprini’s Grand Crown, and—”

  “—I work at a supernatural flea market,” I said with a chuckle. “I might have one of those if you had some extra time to help me find one at the flea market.”

  “We need to get rid of the Basilisk King before more people are hurt,” Brenna said. “And well, I’ve got nothing else better to do since I’m job hunting.”

  Aggie jumped into the conversation. “You got cashier skills?”

  “I don’t think Brenna wants to drive all the way from New York to our small town for a job—”

  “How much is the pay?” She cocked a grin, and I gave up. Seemed like everybody wanted to hang out in Jersey.

  Gertie brought our food while Aggie talked about the open positions at Barney’s. Somehow, with a mouth full of food, she gabbed about the benefits and the family-like team she wanted to build.

  From between the salt and pepper shakers, the oak wand twitched again then shifted a couple of inches closer to me. I couldn’t resist staring. When Brenna brushed her fingers against the wood, the weapon quivered.

  “That’s not a standard wand,” I breathed.

  “No, it’s custom,” she said. “I made it myself.”

  I nodded, quite impressed. Most spellcasters acquired their wands from a seller, but an adept witch could craft their own.

  She must’ve caught my interest and grinned. “This one is crafted from an oak tree on my family’s farm outside of Charleston. It lost a branch in a storm years ago, and the wood called to me to make it useful again.” She plucked the wand and offered it to me. Before I took it, I hesitated.

  Wow, she trusts me. That was a lot, considering she barely knew me.

  “You handle it with respect,” she said with approval. “My daddy taught me how to use a wood burner and craft wands. One of my fondest gifts was an ancient carving set.”

  “It’s gorgeous.” I ran my fingers against the wand, marveling the bare wood. Brenna’s loving hand had scraped off the bark and she’d wrapped dried ivy and twine from one end to the other. Nothing about it was brittle though, it melded perfectly into my palm the same way it must have fit hers. Unable to resist, I drew the wand to my nose and inhaled. A cacophony of scents crossed my nose—wind fluttering through ivy scaling up a brick house toward the sky to vibrant peppermint leaves ready for plucking. The earth rose to greet me and a smile broke out on my face.

  “How come you don’t use this as your day-to-day wand?” I asked, recalling that she carried a much plainer one when she’d helped us a couple of days ago.

  Brenna said, “It’s precious and I’d hate to have this wand damaged during spellcasting. Tapping into the earth is difficult.”

  “Yes, magic is beautiful, but it’s also frightening.” I returned her wand. “There’s a harmonious symphony here and you play the notes with ease.”

  “I have a wand, but you’re an instrument capable of playing any symphony.” The seriousness in Brenna’s gaze made me pause. “If you’re serious, you’ll learn to play. But each time you cast a spell, it might be your final performance.”

  She took a sip of her tea, made a face, and pushed the cup away. I supposed the wind witches’ idea of tea didn’t fit her Southern standards. “We’ll find you a source. Even if you have to drag Fulcrum’s Arm Chair into battle.”

  I didn’t like any of this but resigned myself to doing what I had to do.

  After breakfast, we split up to get as much done as possible. Aggie hurried to my parents’ house to fetch Grandma while I accompanied Brenna to find a power source. When the earth witch pulled up to my place to pick me up, I wasn’t surprised to see she drove a sunshine-yellow, electric-powered VW bug.

  “This is quite a car,” I remarked as I settled into the comfortable cloth seat.

  “It’s my mom’s car. After I got back from overseas, I needed a new ride, but everything on the lots near my parents’ farm spewed noxious fumes all over the damn place.” She started the car. “Let’s get to business, shall we?”

 

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