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As we parked in front of Madam Pompey's Magical Emporium, Inc., she turned to me. "Before you head in there like a hothead, you listen to me," she said. "Wilbur says they're sorcerers. That means they're dangerous and most assuredly more powerful than I am. Do not, under any circumstances, accuse them of Paulo's death or of making the Wolf Briar. Not until we find out just who we're up against."
I stared ahead, sul en, not wanting to listen. "They practical y flayed him alive. They kil ed his fiancee and their unborn child. They have Amber, who has one of the spirit seals. What would you have us do--just wander in and play nice?"
"Exactly. Kitten, I'm working death magic. I know my way around a shop like that. So don't mess it up. We'l find out far more if they don't think we're out to kil them. You got it?"
I knew she was right, though I didn't want to admit it. But I nodded and fol owed her inside.
The shop was like one of those dark, cobwebby little holes-in-the-wal where you could find the most amazing things tucked away in corner baskets or under a table, or in the half-open drawer of some ancient dresser. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the wal s, fil ed with jars of herbs and odd bits of creatures and liquids that I didn't dare speculate on.
In the center of the shop were the tables covered in bones--not human, I hoped--and wands made of metal, crystal, and wood. Decks of tarot cards bordered the tables, surrounding baskets of miniature scrol s radiating a strange light. And behind the front counter were large quart jars fil ed with powders, some glistening with sparkles, others black as powdered ink.
The scent of dark musk and night-blooming jasmine filtered through the air from long sticks of hand-rol ed incense that burned on the counter.
We browsed, Camil e turning over a bone here, a spel there, as she surveyed the shop. I tried to tune in to whatever she was listening to, but al I could feel was an annoying static that set me to gritting my teeth. After a while, she picked up what looked like a rib bone from a smal animal and a deck of tarot cards, and we headed toward the counter.
The woman who slipped from the curtained room leading into the back was striking, especial y for an FBH. A lot of FBH women were gorgeous, beautiful . . . but this woman--she had the spark of magic in her eyes, a dangerous fire that seemed barely contained, ready to lash out. Her hair was raven black, flowing long and straight down her back, and her features were delicate and yet chiseled in stone. She wore a long robe, navy in color and clinging to her body in a lewd way that none of Camil e's fetish gear ever did.
She glided to the counter. On one level, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. On another, I understood exactly what Wilbur had been talking about when he said the woman scared him shitless. Even as magic-blind as I could be, the woman was dark, and a shadow oozed out of her aura to permeate the shop.
"May I help you?" Her voice leeched across the counter, tendrils of that same shadowy energy. She stood near the cash register.
Camil e sucked in a short breath. "I'd like to buy these, and I have a question. I'm in need of several components that most shops around here won't prepare for me. Do you ever make custom-designed powders and potions?"
The woman blinked. "On occasion, when the price is right, if we have the interest. I can feel your energy, death-priestess. Why don't you make them yourself?" She cocked her head, her gaze focused on Camil e.
"I don't have the setup in my home for it, and some of the ingredients are . . . shal we say . . . difficult to procure, and dangerous." Camil e let out her glamour ful y, catching the woman unaware. "What name shal I cal you by?"
"Jaycee," she answered, now total y fixated on my sister. "What are you looking for? We might have it in stock. We keep a select inventory for a few of our regular customers."
"Corpse reanimation powder and demonic sentinel oil." Her voice smooth, Camil e ticked off the components like she might be reciting a grocery list.
"Snake slither, if you have it."
Jaycee's gaze flared. "I have al three, but we don't keep them here. Not wise to keep substances like that in plain view. I can bring them for you when I come in to work tomorrow.">"Something must have been waiting here for him, come out, dragged him off. What's over there?" I turned toward the dryad, who had fol owed us out onto the grassy meadow.
She frowned for a moment. "Parking lot," she said after a pause. "Cursed machines. Tear up the ground, tear up the earth to lay pavement. Humans need to learn how to walk again."
I didn't say anything, not wanting to get her off on a tangent against cars. I rather liked my Jeep, even though it wasn't the best thing for the environment, and by now, cars were an integral part of human society, although the new hybrids were winning my heart for their attempts to shift away from pol uting the world.
"Coyote shifters got him here. Took him to the parking lot . . . this was Paulo's last free stop, I'l bet you." Camil e hung her head. "Poor guy. And poor Mary Mae and her baby."
My cel rang, and the dryad jumped back as if she'd been burned. I moved out of her way to answer it. "Yeah?"
"Chase here. We found something you need to see. It's not pleasant."
"What is it?" I was getting tired of unpleasant. I could real y go for something a little nicer right now. Maybe even downright fun.
"You mean, who was it. We think it's the remains of one of your werewolves. I say think because what's left isn't in very good shape. Get over here ASAP." And with that, he signed off.
I flipped my phone shut and turned to Camil e. "We've been summoned. Chase's men found something." I motioned to the dryad. "We thank you for your help--we real y appreciate it. If there's anything you ever need, let us know, and we'l see what we can do."
She blinked. "You mean it?"
Oh great. Earthside Fae were notorious in the way they latched on to the words "thank you" as a promissory note. Usual y, it was a good month or two before people cal ed in their markers, and when we were lucky, they said, "Forget about it," and let it go as a favor. But she was serious.
"Yeah. What are you thinking?"
She blinked, then broke into a sly smile. "I could use a new garden to tend. I'm tired of the space closing in on me here. Find me a place where the trees are stil wild and free, and I'l move."
