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“There is no witch in Castle Rock,” she cut in. “The elders declared the reservation a witch-free zone just over a year ago.”
I shared a surprise glance with Belle. That was something we hadn’t been aware of when we’d come here, and it made me wonder why they’d approved our permit for the café. Granted, it was now an accepted fact that psi skills were totally unrelated to mainstream magic, but—as Belle had noted—there were still many who thought otherwise.
How could the elders even pass such a rule, let alone want to? It was a government requirement that a witch be present on all reservations. Aside from providing magical assistance when needed, they were also the government’s mouthpieces and rule enforcers. But it was the magic aspect of the situation that made the decision even more surprising. Castle Rock was filled with wild magic, and it was very dangerous to leave such a force unguarded for too long. While wild magic in and of itself was neither good nor bad, without a witch to protect and channel it, it would be a draw to the darker forces of the world.
Maybe that’s why you felt called here, Belle said. Maybe you’re meant to take up that position.
Even if wild magic had the will to do such a thing, I said, mental tones heavy with sarcasm, it could certainly do a whole lot better than me.”
No one fully understands the wild places of this world. Don’t be so certain such magic has no sentience.
Which only reinforces my point. I took another sip of tea. “Why would they ban witches? What happened here?”
Marjorie shrugged. “No one really knows. The elders don’t always communicate the reason behind their rulings, and it’s not like we humans are invited to council meetings.”
Because all werewolf reservations were self-governing—up to a point, anyway— any humans who chose to live in them had to accept that they would never have a say in any decisions made.
“Please help me,” Marjorie added softly. “You must.”
I blew out a breath and crossed mental fingers that my intuition was wrong—that this search wouldn’t end as I suspected it might. “I’ll try. Just… don’t get your hopes up. As I’ve said, there’s never any guarantee when it comes to this sort of search.”
Marjorie leaned forward and clasped my hand. The move caught me by surprise and images surged; a pigtailed little girl, laughing in delight as her father swung her around in a circle. That same girl—older, angrier—screaming at Marjorie that she was the reason her dad had left and that she never wanted to see her again. Recent history, not past, at least in the case of that last vision.
“You’re trying,” Marjorie said. “That’s all I want. All Karen needs.”
I blinked and the images shattered, leaving behind little more than childish echoes of anger and hurt. I gently pulled my hand from hers. I’d been well enough trained that touching people generally posed no threat; the only time my talents broke free of their leash was when I either desired it, or at times like this, when I was caught by surprise.
“I need something of hers. Something she has a lot of contact with.”
“That would be her phone,” Marjorie said. “And she has it with her, even if she’s not answering.”
I half smiled. “I mean something more personal; something she wore close to her skin.”
“Ah.” Marjorie frowned. “Would jewelry do? She has a locket her father gave her—”
“That,” I interrupted, “would be perfect.”
“I’ll go get it now.” She rose swiftly and then hesitated. “You will search for her tonight, won’t you?”
“Yes,” I said heavily. “I will.”
“Good.” Marjorie spun and marched for the door, her steps far more determined and hopeful than they had been when she first arrived.
The small bell chimed at her departure. I wearily rubbed my eyes. “I hope I’m not doing the wrong thing.”
Belle leaned forward and placed her hand over mine. The strength that flowed from it infused my body with a sense of calm. “You can’t go back on your word now. That choice, as you’ve noted, left as soon as you allowed her entry.”
“I know. I just—” I stopped and shrugged. “I was hoping I could stick to finding things that don’t matter. You know, car keys, jewelry, etcetera.”
“Then we shouldn’t have used the ‘Coffee Served, Futures Told, and Things Found’ slogan when we opened this place.” Amusement touched Belle’s voice. “The truth of the matter is, you’re finally tired of running, and we both know it.”
Yes, I was. But it wasn’t like I’d ever had much choice, and we both knew that, too.
“Cat’s death was twelve years ago, Lizzie. Many things can change in that time—maybe even the attitude of your parents.”
I snorted. “Yeah. And next year, the prime minister and his party will renounce its reliance on the council of advisors, and the three royal families of magic will suddenly find themselves out of favor.”
Belle laughed. The sound was so warm and carefree it brought a smile to my lips.
