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“We’ll be on the next flight out. I’ll send Bud straight to Bainbridge to be with the boys when they get home from school. ”
“Thanks, Margie. Do you know how to reach her mother?”
“No worries. I’ll get ahold of Dorothy. Does Marah know yet?”
He sighed at the very thought of calling his daughter. “Not yet. Honestly, I have no idea if I’ll be able to get ahold of her. Or if she’ll care. ”
“Call her,” Margie said gently.
Johnny said goodbye and disconnected the call. He closed his eyes for a moment, readying himself. The edge his daughter lived in these days was narrow; a whisper could push her off.
Beside him, a machine beeped steadily, reminding him with every chirp that it was keeping Tully alive, breathing for her, giving her a chance.
A chance that Dr. Bevan reported was not good.
He didn’t need the doctor’s report to know that. He could see how gray she was, how broken and fragile.
Reluctantly, he pulled up his contact list again and made another call.
Marah.
Eight
September 3, 2010
10:17 A. M.
The Dark Magick Bookstore in Portland, Oregon, prided itself on an ambience created by dim lighting, burning incense, and black curtains. Used books were crowded together on dusty shelves; there were sections devoted to subjects like spiritual healing, Wiccan practices, pagan rituals, and meditation. There was no doubt to even the most casual observer that this was a store that wanted to be spooky and spiritual at the same time. The only problem was shoplifters. In the muddy lighting and smoke-filled air, it was tough to keep track of the merchandise. Too much of it left in pockets and backpacks.
Marah Ryan had told her boss this on several occasions, but the woman refused to be bothered with worldly concerns.
So Marah let it go. It wasn’t as if she really cared, anyway. This was just another stupid job in a long line of stupid jobs she’d had in the two years since she graduated from high school. The only good thing about it was that no one hassled her for the way she looked. Oh, and usually the hours were good. But this week was inventory, so Marah had had to come in super early, which blew as far as she was concerned, especially because she just counted items that never sold anyway. Most stores took inventory after work. Not the Dark Magick. Here, they did inventory in the predawn hours. Why? Marah had no fricking clue.
Now, as she stood in the Voodoo section, counting and recording black skull candles, she toyed with the idea of quitting this dead-end job, but the idea of looking for work again, of moving on, depressed her.
Then again, everything depressed her. She wasn’t supposed to look to the future; she was supposed to accept the present. That was what the shrink had told her years ago, the shark-eyed woman in a plaid suit who’d lied to Marah about almost everything. Dr. Harriet Bloom.
Time heals all wounds.
It will get better.
Give yourself permission to grieve.
Whatever you feel is okay.
Horseshit piled upon horseshit. It did no good to look away from the pain in your soul. Quite the opposite was true.
Examination was the only solace. Instead of looking away from heartache, you needed to crawl inside of it, wear it like a warm coat on a cold day. There was peace in loss, beauty in death, freedom in regret. She had learned that the hard way.
She finished counting the skull candles and left her tally sheet in the bookcase. She was pretty sure she’d forget where it was, but who cared? It was time for her break. Well, she was early, but rules like that didn’t matter around here.
“I’m going to lunch, Star,” she called out.
From somewhere, she heard, “All right. Tell the coven I said hello. ”
Marah rolled her eyes. No matter how often she told her boss that she wasn’t a witch and that her friends weren’t a coven, Starla never believed her. “What-ever,” she said, and walked through the shadowy bookstore to the cash register, where she retrieved her phone from the drawerful of junk. One of the few enforced store rules was no cell phones at work. Starla said that nothing broke a buying spell like a chirping phone.
Marah grabbed her phone and walked out of the store. As the door opened, a cat’s screech sounded—the store’s version of a welcome bell. Ignoring it, she stepped out into the light. Literally.
