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This was precisely why I’d come here once a week for so long. It was humbling to be welcomed by people who didn’t need to be this nice. Sure, they wanted to make sales, but more than that I always felt like they wanted to be of help to me personally.
“Hey, Ez, I’m sorry to ask, but I really need something from the basement.”
He nodded slowly and set his rag on the counter, then came around to our side and bustled us out of the way so he could reach the front door. He flipped the sign to closed and turned the lock.
“You know I can’t say no to you.” He gave my back a friendly pat, not bothering to be light about it since he knew my true strength. To Wilder he said, “Gus is making a fresh pot of coffee. Why don’t you head back and get some? Maybe you can give her a hand with what we were doing.”
“Which is?” Wilder was already making his way towards the curtain, but I could tell he wanted to brace himself in case it was something especially unpleasant.
“Harvesting mouse gall bladders.”
Wilder froze, narrowing his eyes at Ez like he was trying to determine whether this was a test or maybe a joke. Ez smiled, in an apologetic way, telling us he was entirely serious about the task at hand.
“You can’t exactly dry them inside the mouse,” he added, shrugging.
“All right.” Without asking more questions, Wilder rolled up the sleeves on his sweater and went into the back room.
Once he was gone, Ez gave me a serious look, pausing in front of a heavy black door with seven different locks keeping it securely shut. “You haven’t needed anything from the basement in over a year, girl. Are you okay? If there’s trouble, maybe it’s something Gus and I can help with.”
I shook my head and placed a hand on his arm, rubbing it briefly the way someone might if they were trying to help someone get warm.
“Someone died, Ez.”
His lips formed a thin, tight line, turning almost white. “You’re not planning on bringing them back, are you? You know that never works out the way people want it to. I know death is hard, but there are other things we can—”
“I’m not doing a resurrection spell. I’ve seen how well that goes, and no thank you. No, I’m doing a memory-projection spell so I can prove my wolves didn’t kill the guy.”
Ez didn’t have an immediate response to this. Instead he tilted his head slightly and regarded me through heavily lidded eyes. “That’s still deep magic. If you don’t do it right, you can wipe someone’s memory entirely. You can erase everything that makes them who they are with just one wrong word.”
If he was trying to spook me, it was working.
“I know the risks.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” I thought I did anyway.
“Have you ever done it?”
I couldn’t lie to him. Nothing he was doing compelled me to answer truthfully, but I also knew any direct question Ezekiel ever asked me I’d want to be honest with him.
“No.”
He sighed, then unclipped a heavy key ring from his belt. Two of the locks had keys: one was a round bike-lock key, the other an old skeleton key. The third lock was a combination dial, which he opened so quickly he must know the code by muscle memory at this point. The fourth was a puzzle, requiring him to line six interconnected circles up in such a way they clicked open. Locks five and six were good, old-fashioned deadbolts, more designed to keep something in the basement than to keep people out of it.
The seventh was a small circle dead center in the door that looked like a Celtic rune, but one I didn’t know the name of or meaning behind. I took a couple steps back and covered my ears, knowing the drill. Ez leaned close and whispered something to the rune, making it glow bright blue for a half second.
The door opened with a soft click, swinging out towards us, exposing a pitch-black opening and a set of steps. Beyond the first stair, everything else was just anticipated, because even my eyes couldn’t make out shapes in the darkness.
“Are you sure about this?” Ez asked, holding the door open and standing out of my way. “I think we could come up with something else.”
“I’ve considered all my options. This is the best solution.” And by that I meant it was the easiest solution for me.
“Okay. After you.”
This was the worst part. Things that came after might be scarier, and the cost wouldn’t be easy to swallow when I did finally get what I needed, but this first step was always the hardest.
I sucked in a breath, holding it, and closed my eyes.
