Margie laughed. “Since when do you care about the rules?”
“Since Judd died and I’m the only one left to enforce them.” I was still willing to be flexible, but it seemed important to give the appearance of holding the line or I risked having a mutiny on my hands.
“What about seven deadly sins?” Louise asked. “Or seven gates to the underworld?”
“Seven days of creation,” Joan said.
Margie raised her hand. “Ooh! I’ve got one. Seven days of the week.”
I was beginning to regret raising the subject.
“Seven colors of the rainbow,” Catherine said. “And seven notes on a scale.”
“Seven Samurai.The Magnificent Seven,” Joan said.
And we were back to movies again. “I don’t think their vision involved Steve McQueen,” I said.
Joan pulled down her sunglasses. “Their loss.”
“What’s all the ruckus over there, y’all?” Camille Hadley entered at the far end of the pool, wrapped in a bright orange sarong. She was a petite dryad with brassy blonde hair that looked like it had spent the night in large rollers. Like the bark of an oak tree, her skin was a weathered light gray with warm brown undertones, which only served to highlight the unnatural white of her teeth.
“No ruckus,” Meemaw said, loud enough to be heard. “Just a friendly conversation that doesn’t involve you.”
Margie chucked a towel at her mother. “Be nice, Mama,” she hissed. “Camille cuts my hair.”
“Don’t worry,” Meemaw said. “If she takes her revenge on you, I know a spell that can grow your hair back.”
Camille waved me over. “Maya, honey, we havegotto do something about that mop top of yours. I know your head bursts into snakes or whatever, but that’s no excuse for letting yourself go.”
I instinctively touched my hair. “What’s wrong with it?”
Camille gave me a pointed look. “I do not have enough hours in my day to answer that question. Now you be a good girl and go on and make an appointment with me for this week. I promise I’ll go easy on you.”
I glanced at Meemaw, who shrugged.
“She gives a nice scalp massage,” Margie said.
“Fine,” I relented. “But no color.”
“Honey, I don’t see a streak of gray. Color is the least of your problems.”
“She really knows how to boost a woman’s confidence,” I muttered.
“Come see me at two o’clock tomorrow. I had an unexpected cancellation.” She adjusted her wide-brimmed hat. “You can thank Darlene Garvey at her memorial service.”
The woman on the lounger beside Camille’s yanked up the brim of her hat. “Darlene died?”
“In her sleep, apparently. If I had a choice, that’s the way I’d want to go too. Lucky bitch.”
If she only knew.
Chapter
Five
Isat in my office, twirling a pen around my fingers while I contemplated Darlene’s death. Where could one find a rogue shadow? Did it belong to someone on the island, or had it come to Evermore from elsewhere? Another realm, or this world? So many questions and not a single answer, much like my situation with oni.
If I encountered the shadow, how would I fight it? Swords and snakes would have no impact on an intangible object. I considered my latent powers; it would be a great risk to use one of those, especially if I wasn’t certain they’d help. All it would take was one eyewitness and I’d be subjected to questions I couldn’t—wouldn’t—answer.
