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As Peyton and her mother got in the backseat, and Rhiannon and I climbed in the front of Favonis, I couldn't help but wonder just how much Marta had known about what we were facing. And if there was any way of contacting her spirit to find out.
Marta's house had to be a hundred if it was a day. One of those wonderful places with a wide veranda, it included the requisite swing, and if we had warmer summers here in western Washington, I could imagine the parties that porch would have seen. As it was, Marta appeared to have used most of the space to store various bags and boxes--rock salt, sulfur, and potting soil; what looked like a huge box of short, white taper candles; crystals and other odd-looking rocks; pieces of wood that I guessed were for wands and short staves.
A sign was tacked on one of the newel posts. It read: BEWITCHERY GARDENS: FOR ALL YOUR MAGICAL NEEDS. Well, I knew I'd be changing that name. Just not my style.
"All of this stuff is yours. Well, maybe not the potting soil, but I won't begrudge you that if you want it."
Anadey unlocked the door and we followed her through the foyer into the living room, which totally upset my expectations. The furniture was sleek, not heavy and upholstered. A lot of chrome and glass, a gray leather sofa, bookshelves stained with ebony rather than a dark mahogany. Modern, with a minimalist bent. Not at all what I'd been expecting. A few scattered pictures of Anadey and Peyton ornamented the walls, and there were even fewer doilies and tchotchkes.
"Please, make yourselves comfortable while I find my list here . . ."
She hunted through a desk in the corner as I wandered around the living room. Marta had been tidy, that was obvious. Meticulous, in fact. Everything pointed the same direction, everything was lined up perfectly. As I moved over to the DVD shelf, I noticed all the movies were in alphabetical order by title.
Peyton wandered up beside me. "My grandmother was one of those everything-in-its-place people. I used to drive her nuts when I was little by dragging things off the shelves or out of drawers and putting them back wrong."
I glanced at her. Peyton was tall, taller than either Rhiannon or me, and she looked part Native American, with long, brown hair and a slightly flat nose, and eyes that were the color of dark chocolate. She wasn't classically beautiful, but something shone through that gave her a smoldering, sexy feel.
"Do you like working with your mother?"
She shrugged. "She started the diner a few years back and needed me to cook. We're getting to the point where she'll be able to hire someone new, soon, and I can do what I really want to do."
"What's that?"
"I want to open a shop called Magical Investigations. I'd like to work as a psychic investigator. I'm half-Were, but also half-magic-born, and I have a real knack with the cards. I've also got martial arts training. I moonlight now, taking a few private clients, but I'd love to do it full-time."
That gave me an idea. "Hmm. That sounds interesting. And it might be even more fun if you had another witch attached to the business. What do you think about working out of my shop once I get it going? We could team up if needed, especially since I know nothing about running a business. Our first case can be finding out where the hell my aunt is."
Peyton grinned. "My grandma was right--you're a go-getter. I'll think about it. Seriously, it might be a perfect match."
A moment later, Anadey had spread out several sheets of paper on the old oak dining table. "Come on over. She motioned to Peyton, Rhiannon, and me. "Sit down, please. There's a room upstairs with my mother's magical tools, but I'd like to wait on those. There may be something I want--for sentimental value."
"Of course," I said, once again not wanting to overstep my bounds.
"Then there are the supplies on the front porch, another room filled with supplies, and the books. On that shelf over there"--she pointed to one of the wide wall-to-wall built-in bookshelves--"the entire middle section is yours. Why don't you start with them? We've got some boxes and can easily pack them up this afternoon.">Suddenly terrified, I made sure the window was locked and closed the curtains. Even so, I still felt vulnerable and exposed.
Chapter 5
When I was finished and dressed again--I'd have to do laundry soon considering how many times I was changing clothes today and how few clothes I actually owned--I sat on the bed, taking stock of the situation.
Grieve had changed. His eyes haunted me and I couldn't figure out what the hell had happened. And he'd mentioned the Indigo Court. But mostly, I felt the sting of his rejection. Would he ever forgive me? And more important--could I love this new Grieve, who was far harsher and crueler? Would I even want to?
We headed out to meet the lawyer at the diner, taking Favonis since Rhiannon was too upset to drive and Leo wanted a ride in my Pontiac GTO. His enthusiasm would have made me smile any other time, but after everything that had happened today, I really wasn't up for an automobile lovefest.
As we pulled into the parking lot, I glanced around, nervous, but there didn't seem to be any mysterious creatures hiding out. Last night I'd been running for my life here. Today it was quiet, almost serene.
As we filed through the door, Rhiannon nodded to a gentleman who was probably in his mid-forties, waiting in one of the booths.
He was very suit-and-tie, but I had the feeling that beneath that professional exterior, he couldn't wait to get home to blue jeans and a T-shirt. He just had that look in his eye. Plus, instead of coffee, he was sipping on a milk-shake, and a piece of apple pie smothered in whipped cream waited in front of him. Somehow, pie and a strawberry shake made him seem less imposing.
We slipped into the booth.
"How you doing? Jim Fischer." The lawyer held out his hand and I shook it. Nothing spectacular, just warm, firm, and strong. The kind of handshake that offered confidence and security.
"Cicely Waters. And I'm fine, thank you."
Anadey was at the table immediately with menus and coffee. I was the only one who turned over my mug and I noticed she'd brought cream with her.
"You just take your time looking over the menu," she said, "unless you already know what you want. Cicely, it's good to see you again. I was worried last night when those two ruffians left right after you, but I watched and made sure you got to your motel room safely enough."
