“Very much,” he said, catching Lucky’s eye. “I appreciate the chance to get to know Lucky better. That was very kind.”
Marcus’s expression turned sad. “So very formal,” he said softly. “But you’re welcome. Is there anything you need? Kayleigh assures me it’s your turn to cook dinner. What did you have in mind?”
Kayleigh had been teaching him how to cook, so relieved that it wasn’t only her responsibility anymore that she nearly cried when Marcus or Scout cooked. Getting lunch at one of the kiosks or small restaurants that dotted the island was such a luxury for her after twenty years of being told that being a cook and a broodmare were her only options in the future that Scout dedicated himself to toast and jam for lunch to eke out their finances a little. It had always been his favorite anyway.
“I was thinking ramen with pork and eggs,” he said hopefully. It was simple and very satisfying. “There’s enough for Lucky. We need to talk.”
Marcus’s eyes went wide. “About what? This sounds serious.”
“About the soul trap down by the beach,” Scout said, lowering his voice appropriately.
Marcus sucked in a breath. “Oh dear. You discovered that, did you?”
Scout and Lucky met gazes. “You knew?” According to Alistair, soul traps were a terrible disaster, the paranormal equivalent of a toxic spill, to be cleaned up by only the most powerful wizards in hazmat suits with flamethrowers.
“Well, hard not to,” Marcus said. “In fact, it’s one of the things that attracted me here—and Helen as well. It’s an opportunity to do some good, you see. Couple of old hoofers at our age, getting a chance to do something this big. One of the reasons I took you and Kayleigh in. That much untapped power, with….” He sighed. “I was hoping with a little more… you know, finesse than your people usually have?”
Scout stared at him for a second, not sure if he should throw himself on Alistair’s mercy and call him in to save them, save them all from the terrible ghosts who might devour their very souls!
Marcus and Helen were hedge witches. Small potatoes. They knew about wizards—Marcus had spotted Scout and Kayleigh right away—but they weren’t part of the community at all. And while Alistair had dismissed hedge witches completely, with prejudice and condescension, Scout couldn’t help but remember Jordan. While Macklin had tried to muscle his divination with will and power, Jordan had spun his little top and waited to see what happened. Macklin’s approach had been very like Alistair’s, which Scout had never understood. But Jordan’s… Jordan’s approach had been much more organic.
And suddenly he got it.
This little island was insulated. One of the first things he’d asked was whether Kayleigh had to worry about Alistair popping up out of nowhere and dragging her back to wizard central in upstate New York.
Marcus had shaken his head. “No, my boy. Salt water tends to thwart wizarding powers. Hedge witches, on the other hand, tend to be much more connected to the elements. If your lot are all wizards, you have nothing to worry about.”
This island was safe. Safe from wizards. Safe from whoever was chasing Lucky. Safe. Bringing Alistair Quintero in here for a couple of ghosts who had, apparently, been here for quite some time would be like dumping napalm on the entire island and burning it down because someone’s chicken got out.
“Of course,” he said, allowing some of his intensity to recede. “Of course. It’s your island. It should be done your way. But, uhm, Lucky may want to be briefed. He—we—were pretty rattled.”
“Thanks,” Lucky said quietly, and Scout sent him a quick smile. Yeah, nobody wanted to admit they’d been freaked the fuck out, but Scout knew it had been both of them.
If it hadn’t, he might have taken advantage of the privacy some more.
The thought intruded out of nowhere, but Scout took another look at Lucky, who was looking to Marcus for guidance. His cheekbones were razor sharp—sharp enough to make the planes of his face look broad and the angles surprising. Not a pretty face, no, but interesting. Arresting.
Fascinating.
Scout might like to study it some more.
“By all means,” Marcus was saying, pulling Scout back to the present. “Go fix dinner—fix enough for Helen too, and we can eat on the back porch.” He threw his head back and tasted the wind, licking the tip of a pink tongue across age-thinned lips. “The wind should die down in an hour or so. It will make for a pleasant evening.”
“Of course.” Scout turned to Lucky. “Want to come talk to me while I work? I, uhm, suck at the noodle part. Kayleigh makes them out of flour, water, gluten, and baking soda, and I’m hopeless.”
“You make noodles out of flour?” Lucky asked, sounding puzzled. “I seriously thought you got them from the store in those little packages.”
Scout had seen those packages; Kayleigh had been so pissed that it was possible to eat noodle soup without making the noodles from scratch that he hadn’t even wanted to bring it up.
“I’ve never had that,” he said apologetically. “We’ve been slow-cooking a pork shoulder for hours, so we have broth and pork.” He smiled again at Lucky’s dazed expression. “Here, follow me. We can talk while Marcus is rounding up Helen and Kayleigh.” Wait. “Where’s Kayleigh?”
“She ran to the general store for soy sauce, which means you should hurry!” Marcus urged, and Scout took him at his word.
In front of the magic store, by the rail that blocked off the cliff to the beach, was a little staircase. Most folks missed it, because taking it required hugging the railing and then disappearing literally under the store. It probably wasn’t easy for Marcus to take these stairs anymore—his knees weren’t what they used to be—but the road behind the store was much lower than the road in front of it. The little apartment underneath opened out to a nice patio, and since the streets of Spinner’s Drift were practically vacant in the evening, anyone sitting there had an unobstructed view of the beach to one side and the encroaching undergrowth from the island on the other.
It was lush and overgrown in a way Scout had never experienced before, and while it could get chilly in the winter, he knew that snow was rare.
“This is nice,” Lucky said as they made their way down the stairs and into the hidden apartment underneath the shop.
