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“A lot,” Gus said with a shudder.
Victoriya got the cream from the fridge before Joy could go for it and thrust it out like a cat gifting a dead mouse.
“The killer’s a blonde with sharp nails,” she said, red lips pressed into a thin line. She’s slim and pretty tall, but the angle we saw was behind her, looking down as she walked past the high street and towards the beach. So, that’s all we got. That and a weird glimpse of shitty wooden houses and snowy mountains that I fully blame Augustus for.”
“What didIdo?” Gus protested, scowling.
“You weren’t concentrating.” Victoriya’s eyebrows pressed into a frustrated V. “The image skipped.”
Gus crossed his arms over his jumper, his glower intensifying. “Maybeyouweren’t concentrating.”
“Alright,” Joy cut in before they could start bickering. “So, it didn’t show you her face?”
“Nope,” Victoriya confirmed. “Total waste of time.”
But if she was a slim blonde woman … it wasn’t Paulina. A tight knot of fear eased in Joy’s chest. It wasn’t the killer who’d locked her up, and who would do it again as soon as the chance was provided.
Joy looked between her friends, and realised none of them would meet her eyes. Even Maisie, usually so forthright with her eye contact, glanced away.
“What else is wrong?”
“The mirror broke,” Salma breathed gently, her gaze apologetic and sad. “We needed a balancing presence. I didn’t realise until the glass shattered when we ended the spell. All our witchcraft tried to get out at once, separately, instead of working together.”
“Oh,” Joy choked out, looking past them to the mirror laid on the table. Not only had it shattered but most of the glass was gone, swallowed by magic.
Her mother’s mirror. Joy’s throat closed up, her eyes burning.
“It disintegrated,” Gus explained, wringing his hands. “We really suck at spells without you.”
“Oh,” Joy murmured in a different tone. So, theydidneed her…? “Oh.”
Maisie made an exasperated sound in her throat, and Joy finally grasped what she’d been trying to say earlier. She wasn’t useless or unwanted. In Maisie’s eyes, she was as important as Gus or Salma.
“It doesn’t matter about the mirror,” she said finally, pushing back her tears and checking Eilidh was still on the bench outside. “I don’t use that one anyway.”
And this house wasfullof her mother’s trinkets and possessions. It was silly to feel so gutted over one thing.
She poured milk into the hot chocolate and slid it along the counter for Victoriya to pour a mountain of cream on top.
“I’ll take it,” Salma volunteered, removing the mug from Victoriya’s hands before she could protest. Her chest a bit lighter, Joy watched through the window until Salma sat beside Eilidh, drawing her into a hug.
“Are we getting paid for this?” Victoriya asked, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the counter.
When everyone shot her the same look, she added, “Seriously. I think we should get paid for all the shit we’re doing for Pride.”
“Gabi doesn’t get paid much,” Joy told her. “Just enough for rent and food and stuff. I doubt she has any extra for herself let alone you, Victoriya.”
Gus came to lean against the counter beside Joy, gazing out the window. “Do you reckon people’ll start taking Pride casseroles and cakes like they used to with her dad?”
Joy smiled at the unexpected—and forgotten—memory. Back then, dishes and cookware had forever been piled on the table of the Law House, and even more were stacked in the fridge, as payment from thankful families and gifts from doting old ladies.
“Probably,” she said, and hoped people appreciated Gabi as much as they did Bo.
“So,nopay,” Victoriya grumbled and squirted cream directly into her mouth. “Which meansnoshiny new wand holster for me. Why are we doing this again?”
“Because we’re good, charitable people,” Gus offered, tapping her bottom lip in thought.
Victoriya snorted.
