Page 46 of Rogue Witch

She flashes a smile designed to make people think everything is fine, and says, “That won’t be necessary. Please have her contact me when she returns.” The detective pulls a card from her pocket and sets it on Raith’s desk. “Please give this to her, just in case she lost the one I gave her last month.”

Raith blinks and I know, this time, he is surprised. “Was there trouble at her grandmother’s house last month?” he asks.

“No. She came to see me.” Her eyes soften. “She wanted information on her grandmother’s death.”

Raith slumps back in his chair. “She has taken her grandmother’s death hard.”

“Really?” A hard gleam replaces the softness. “I understood that her grandmother kicked her out when she was fifteen.”

Raith sighs. “Yes. Which left Ms. Crowe with unresolved issues.”

“That can happen.” The detective stands and we follow suit. “Please have her call me.”

“Of course,” Raith replies.

She looks at me. “Mr. Bordeaux.”

I angle my head in acknowledgement and she leaves.

Raith’s expression turns distant, and I know he’s listening to her departure.

When his eyes clear, he looks at me. “Rouse Blade. I haven’t seen him today. I imagine he’s still sleeping off last night. Take Penelope and get to the potionary. Find out who the hell was there.”

I turn, then halt when he adds, “And make sure whoever Detective Mills assigned to watch the potionary doesn’t catch you.”

An hour later, I turn the Toyota Camry I’m driving—my Martin Aston is too easily recognizable—down the street where the potionary is located. Penelope is sitting in the passenger seat to my right and Blade occupies the seat behind her. As Raith predicted, I did have to rouse Blade from his bed. Thankfully, he seems none the worse for wear, though Olympia wasn’t pleased to learn that his mission didn’t garner any information. I suspect Blade stayed in bed not because of his confrontation with the Zidruhin witch, but because of his worry for Leilah and, like me, he’s glad to have something to take his mind off her.

I squint against the late afternoon sunlight that glints off the rearview mirror.

“There.” Penelope says in her soft Portuguese accent. She’s staring up ahead and to the left where a brown Crown Vic sits across the street from the potionary.

Penelope Fairbrandt is a petite blonde with a pixie hair cut that makes her look a bit like Peter Pan’s mischievous Tinkerbell. The likeness is not that far off. Her mother is a witch and her father a Fae. The combination is common. In Penelope’s case, her mother is a past member of the Kispu Order. Penelope inherited that power which, combined with her Fae nature, makes her particularly sensitive to magic, not to mention a powerful witch.

Two men sit in the front seat of the Crown Vic. The police aren’t even trying to hide.

“How cliché,” Blade murmurs.

I drive past the house and their car.

“Doesn’t look like anyone is inside the potionary,” he says.

I take a right at the corner, drive another block, then park and face Penelope. “Invisibility or illusion?”

“Illusion,” Blade says.

Penelope twists and looks at him past the headrest.

He grins. “Illusion spells are so much more interesting than invisibility.”

Penelope shifts her attention onto me. “Illusion is much easier to cast than invisibility.”

She’s right. Invisibility requires disappearing. Illusion is about blending in like a chameleon.

“Illusion it is,” I say. “Cast the spell once we’re out of the car.” I open my door and cool air washes over me. “Let’s make this quick before someone decides to take a walk.”

I cast a quick glance around, detect no activity in any of the houses, and nod to Penelope.

We huddle on the grassy curb beside the car and she pulls her right hand from her jacket pocket, points her index finger heavenward, then makes a circle in the air as she murmurs, “Eyes of darkness, eyes of light, keep hidden those within my sight.” She drops her hand to her side. “Ready?” She looks from Blade to me.