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“You’re getting sneaky in your old age. I didn’t even sense you doing it.” Amusement crinkled the corners of her eyes. “How bad a rat infestation are we talking about? Enough to put a serious dent in their fortune-telling scam?”
“Let’s just say I doubt many of their patrons will be willing to sit still and listen to a reading when there are rats running all around the room.”
She laughed in delight. “Oh, you are brilliant.”
“I do sometimes have my moments.”
“Indeed.” She glanced down at my tray. “Make sure you finish all that.”
She meant the potion more than the croissants, and I nodded dutifully. As much as I bitched about them, her potions were the one reason common incantations didn’t affect me as badly as they did other witches. There were benefits to having a human familiar aside from the whole friendship angle.
I listened to the clatter and voices drifting up from downstairs as I finished my breakfast. If that noise was anything to go by, we’d at least doubled our number of patrons from yesterday. If we kept that up, we might just start making a profit from this place inside of a year.
If we lasted a year, that was. I wouldn’t put it past our head ranger to drive us out of town, just as the Fitzgeralds had. His reasons might be born of hate rather than professional jealousy and fear of exposure, but the result would be the same—another hit to our savings. One I wasn’t entirely sure we could easily recover from. As Belle had noted, our financial situation was rather precarious at the moment.
I thrust the worry aside; there was no point thinking about it until it actually happened. I finished the rest of the potion then slid the tray onto the bedside table and headed for the shower. Once I was clean and dressed, I went back to my dressing table and studied the array of pretty charms that were hanging from their stand. I ran my fingers across each one, letting the stones speak to me, and eventually settled on one designed to keep those with malevolent natures at a distance. It wasn’t strong enough to actually stop anyone attacking me—none of these charms were—but it would at least make anyone intending ill think twice about approaching me, even if they had no idea why. I slipped it around my neck, pocketed Karen’s necklace, then grabbed the tray and headed back downstairs.
Belle gave me a smile but her gaze swept me critically. “You’re still looking a little ragged around the edges. Don’t overdo it at Mrs. Banks’s.”
“I won’t.” I dumped the tray in the empty kitchen, gave Mike—our chef—a cheery hello, and then added, “Wasn’t Frank rostered on at ten thirty?”
Frank Rueben was our fifty-nine-year-old kitchen hand and the only person who’d actually answered the ad for the position. Apparently there wasn’t only a decided lack of youngsters interested in menial jobs in this reservation, but—from what Frank had said—also very few employers willing to take on someone so close to retirement. His age certainly hadn’t worried us, although Belle did check both his references and the spirits’ thoughts. They approved his employment.
As usual, they didn’t deign to explain why.
“His car broke down on the way here,” Belle said. “He’ll be twenty minutes late, but said he’ll make it up at the end of shift.”
“Ah, cool.” I stepped aside as a middle-aged woman with long brown hair and merry blue eyes approached. “Morning, Penny.”
“Lizzie,” she said, “hope you’re feeling a little better now.”
“I am, thank you.” Once she’d squeezed past, I glanced back at Belle and said, “You need anything while I’m out?”
Belle shook her head. “Just take it easy.” Silently, she added, And just in case you decide to go in search of the wild magic’s source, I’ve readied the backpack.
The spirits are that insistent?
You have no idea.
I’m not up to spelling today.
Which is why I’ve only included warding stones rather than anything more potent.
Ah. Thanks.
Her smile flashed. Anticipating your needs is the reason I exist.
I snorted softly and scooped up the pack as I headed out. The morning was gray and rather cold, but there were small patches of blue visible that gave me hope it would get warmer as the day wore on. While it might have been winter when we’d first arrived in Castle Rock, we were now zooming toward Christmas and that was supposed to mean summer here in Australia. But maybe the weather gods had forgotten to read that particular memo this year.
Mrs. Banks lived on Kennedy Street, only a block away from the train station. Her place was not what I’d been expecting—a worse-for-wear white weatherboard house on a slightly elevated block, rather than one of the grand old Victorian homes that could be found everywhere in Castle Rock. The metal gate scraped across concrete that had seen better days, and the wooden steps up to the front porch were decidedly spongy. I kept a hand on the rail as a precaution, and then walked over to the front door and pressed the bell. After a few seconds, the sharp tattoo of footsteps approached.
“Who is it?” she said, without opening the door.
“It’s Lizzie Grace.” As the door opened, I added, “Sorry for not coming earlier, but my recovery took a bit longer than expected.”
She nodded and stepped to one side. I didn’t immediately enter, instead reaching into my pocket to retrieve Karen’s locket.
“I thought you might want this back,” I said softly.
