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"What's wrong with hail?" she asked. "It's normal weather stuff."
"Not when the temperature hasn't dropped below sixty in a week," I said. I turned to Cortez. "Don't worry about it. She doesn't know how to make hail."
"No, but you do," Savannah said.
Cortez turned to me. "Really? I've heard of such spells, but I've never encountered one."
"That's 'cause it's witch magic," Savannah said. "Special witch magic. Paige has these really cool grimoires she's working on, and--"
"And we're not conjuring up a hailstorm," I cut in. "Or using any other kind of magic to get rid of those people. They'll leave on their own."
"Denial," Savannah whispered loudly to Cortez.
"Bedtime," I said. "It's nearly eleven."
"So? It's not like I'm going to school ever again."
"You're going as soon as this mess calms down. Until then, you should keep to your normal routine. It's already past your bedtime. Now go."
She stomped off.
CHAPTER 24
PARTY GAMES
I pulled the coffee bean bag from the cupboard. "I don't suppose you'd let me see that hailstorm spell," Cortez said.
"Hailstorm is an exaggeration. I can conjure up a handful of nearly frozen ice pellets. More like a slush shower. How bad is it out there, anyway?"
"Let's just say, if the temperature plummets tonight, I'd recommend testing out that hail spell."
I walked into the living room and parted the curtains to see a solid mass of people, even more than had been there when we'd got here. Though it was eleven at night, all the flashlights and camping lanterns lit up the yard bright enough for a ball game.
Camera vans lined the road, their windows rolled down, crews waiting inside, sipping coffee and talking, like cops on a stakeout. While the media stuck to the road, strangers covered nearly every square inch of my yard. Strangers on lawn chairs drinking soda. Strangers with camcorders filming everything in sight. Strangers huddled in circles clutching Bibles. Strangers carrying placards reading "Satan Lives Here" and "Thou Shalt Not Suffer a Witch to Live."
Cortez walked up behind me.
Still holding the curtain, I half-turned and looked up at him. "This afternoon, when we got here, you thought we should go to a motel. Do you think ... That is ..." I shook my head and smiled wryly. "I'm not good at this. Asking for advice."
"You want to know if I still think we should leave?"
"Yes. Thank you."
"I don't. My initial concern pertained to the dangers and difficulties of getting past the crowd. Having done that, I believe, as I told Savannah, that we are best to stay here and ignore them."
He gently plucked the curtain from my hand, then let it fall closed.
"The mob mentality is, naturally, a concern. However, the presence of media should counteract any urge to violence, and the size of the crowd itself makes it unlikely that any rogue element could take control."
"But I know what Savannah means." I glanced at the closed curtain and shivered. "I feel ... under siege."
"True, but think of it instead as an insulating buffer. No Cabal would act with such a crowd of witnesses. You are much safer here than you would be in an isolated motel."
"But if they won't act in front of witnesses ... what was that at the funeral parlor? Not exactly a private demonstration."
"No, and I can promise you whoever came up with that scheme is in line for a serious reprimand. Someone acted without proper authorization, and will be duly punished. I've already reported the incident. It will be handled by an intra-Cabal judiciary review."
" Uh-huh. And that, I'd guess, is a bad thing."
