Page 10 of Casting Butterflies

Rather than reply to my question, Cedric muttered, “I’m thinking perhaps a return visit to Ms. Papillon’s house might be in order.”

I pounced. “Aha, you do think we might have snagged the wrong item.”

“No, this is it, and before you ask how I’m sure, call it gut instinct. Perhaps the lady kept a receipt that would provide the provenance of the necklace.”

“A receipt for this piece of crap?” My nose wrinkled. “I’ve seen dollar store junk of higher quality.”

“Could be the lady kept a journal.”

Now that might interesting. Maybe it would explain Papillon’s obsession with butterflies. At the same time, would any reason other than insanity truly excuse her extreme mania?

“You said her house had stuff to block magic built into the walls. Heck, the box the necklace was kept in is shielded, indicating she had some knowledge of what she’d found. Do you think she was a witch?”

“A witch living inside a magicless house?” Cedric shook his head. “I would theorize she had the argencae installed, at great effort and expense, to prevent the artifact from being detected.”

That statement raised my brows. “Whoa. Are you saying there’s a possibility something might be seeking this necklace?”

“Given the seers’ warning about keeping the artifact out of the wrong hands, it seems very possible.”

“Think she was keeping it away from demons?” Because, apparently, they liked to go after people with magic, so why not objects too?

“Demons aren’t the only beings attracted to those of power,” he murmured.

“Is the wrong thing to say to a girl who has no magic nor a hot elf prince to protect her,” I retorted.

“The seers wouldn’t have assigned us this task if they didn’t believe us capable of following through.”

“That’s slightly more reassuring. You don’t suppose maybe they’ll send me some a sexy protector?”

Cedric snorted. “No.” He moved away from the necklace and leaped to the floor.

“Are we done ogling it?”

“Yes.”

Soon as he spoke, I slammed the lid shut and only then realized how tense I’d been the entire time we’d had the box open.

“Now what?” I asked as Cedric headed for the kitty door.

“I’m going to stretch my legs.”

“I meant, what are we going to do with the necklace?”

“Start with a search on the internet. See what you can find about the importance of butterflies. I’d also suggest a reverse image search of the pendant and, of course, a deep dive into Papillon.”

I blinked. “Anything else, boss?” I spoke sarcastically, but Cedric nodded.

“See if there’s a way for us to return to that house for a closer look.”

And with those orders, Cedric left, tail swishing. As for me? I poured a glass of wine—kept the bottle close—lit a joint, and surfed the web.

5

After a night of scouring the internet—that involved an entire bottle of wine and two joints of excellent quality—I woke the next day drooling on the couch being judged by a cat.

“Your habits are appalling,” Cedric stated with clear disdain.

“Says the guy who licks his butt instead of showering,” I grumbled, sitting up and blowing strands of hair out of my face.