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"If she'll let us. What about your rental--oh, geez, your bike. We left it at the funeral home. I should call a tow truck--"
"I've done that."
"Good. Did they tow it someplace safe?"
He hesitated, then said, "It wasn't there when they arrived. Could you get Savannah? I knocked at her door, but she has her music too loud to hear and I didn't dare intrude."
"What do you mean, your bike wasn't there? Someone stole it?"
"So it would appear. No matter. The police have been informed and, failing that, I had an excellent insurance policy."
"Oh, God, I'm sorry. I should have thought--I completely forgot about it yesterday."
"Given everything that happened, the bike was the last of my concerns. You suggested we return for it before we came here, and I decided against that, so it's entirely my own fault. Now, if you'll get Savannah--"
"I'm so sorry. You should have mentioned it. God, I feel awful."
"Which is precisely why I didn't mention it. Compared to what you've lost these last few days and what you stand to lose, a motorcycle is quite inconsequential. As I said, I had insurance and I can replace it." He glanced at his watch. "We really have to go. Collect Savannah and meet me at the back door."
He gently moved me out of the way and went into the kitchen to gather his papers. I was about to follow when the clock struck six-thirty, reminding me that we did indeed need to hurry. The Salem shop that carried some of the material for Savannah's ceremony closed at nine.
I banged on Savannah's door.
"Just a sec," she called.
The music clicked off, followed by the slam of the closet and various drawers. Finally she opened the door and handed me a plastic grocery bag.
"Hold this," she said, then grabbed her hairbrush and ran it through her hair. "I figured out how we can get around without being seen. I should have thought about that earlier, but I forgot about it."
"Forgot about what?"
She pointed at the bag. "That."
I opened it and screamed.
CHAPTER 32
TOOLS OF THE TRADE
Okay, I didn't scream. More of a yelp, really. Maybe a shriek.
What was in the bag? The long-lost Hand of Glory. Just what I wanted to see.
At my cry, Cortez came flying down the hall. Once we assured him that no one was mortally wounded, I explained how Savannah came to be in possession of the Hand.
"... and then I forgot about it," I finished.
"So did I," she said. "Until now when I was putting away my homework and saw my bag."
"You put that thing in your schoolbag?" I said.
"Wrapped up, of course. The cops would never look in there. Now we can use it to sneak out of the house. We just light the fingers on fire and carry it outside. It'll make us invisible. Well, maybe not invisible, but it'll stop people from seeing us."
Cortez shook his head. "I'm afraid that's a myth, Savannah. The Hand of Glory only prevents sleeping people from waking and it does that very poorly."
"You've tried it?" she asked.
"Several times, until I learned a spell that worked better." He lifted the hand from the bag. "And smelled better. This Hand is very crudely done. Quite fresh, too. That weakens its power. Whoever made this didn't even follow the proper methods of anointing and preserving. I'd be surprised if it worked at all. I'd say its purpose is more fright than sleight."
