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“I’ve been having trouble with my neck,” she said. “Maybe you could examine it?”
“I—uh.”
“Not now,” I blurted.
Adsila laughed, the sound bubbly and sweet. Why couldn’t she cackle like an old hen? “Of course not. I’ll walk into town sometime this week and stop by your clinic.”
“That would be fine.”
Ian flicked a finger toward the sticks now positioned at the four corners of the house, reminding me why we’d come.
“Do you know what those are for?” I asked.
“Granny Q. said they were for protection. I’m not sure against what.”
Ian and I exchanged a glance.
“Is there something wrong? Something I should be worried about?”
I hesitated, but Ian gave a slight shake of his head. Telling Quatie’s great-great-granddaughter about a shape-shifting witch would only convince her we were nuts and make her ignore anything else we might say in the future. Quatie had protected the place in the best way she could, the way we would have if she hadn’t done it first. They were safer than anyone in this town at the moment, even us.
“Could you have Quatie call—” I stopped. No phone. “I don’t suppose you brought a cell phone?”
“She hates them. I know better.”
“Do you mind if we wait?”
“Actually we should get back,” Ian said. “I need to finish translating your great-grandmother’s papers.”
I really wanted to know whatever Quatie did about the Raven Mocker, but we had sticks to whittle, people to protect.
“Maybe you could bring her to town?”
“No car.” Adsila spread her hands. “Sorry.”
She had said she was going to walk in to see Ian.
“How’d you get here?” I asked.
“My father dropped me off. He had to be in Atlanta for a conference. He’ll pick me up on the way back. I figured I could either walk or hitch into Lake Bluff if I needed to.”
I couldn’t fathom that a young girl would choose to spend any time in the mountains with an old woman and no cell phone, electricity, or Internet connection— although I had. Not that there’d been too many cell phones or Internet connections back then.
“Could you tell her I’ll visit again late this afternoon? Make sure she doesn’t wander off?”
“I’ll do my best,” Adsila said.
Ian and I headed for the car. I reached my side first and glanced over to find Adsila staring at Ian’s backside. She met my eyes, smirked, then shrugged before disappearing into the house.
Ian opened his door, paused. “What’s the matter?”
“Besides her hitting on you two seconds after we met, she was ogling your ass just now.”
He looked at the cabin, then back at me. “I’m a little old for her.”
“Ten years? That’s nothing.”
As he leaned on the top of the truck, his biceps flexed against the sleeves of his black T-shirt, and I did a little ogling of my own. He was so damn pretty.
