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“And very rude,” Nana Pratt added with an air of indignation.
“On the plus side, Ashley has a new job. She’s going to work at the farm with Phaedra.”
Nana Pratt frowned. “My granddaughter is going to work for the witch whose family tried to sacrifice her?”
“She’s going to work at the farm. She loves animals. It’ll be a great experience for her.”
“An honest day’s work in the great outdoors is just what that girl needs.” Ray nodded his approval. “Well done, Lorelei.”
Nana Pratt appeared less convinced, but I’d give her time to process.
I lost sight of the revenant as he passed through the gate. Whatever he wanted, I had a feeling he’d be back to get it very soon.
CHAPTER 17
Sian was less interested in Claude the revenant than the pink pacifier in his hand.
“Will you go now?” he asked.
“According to the latest records, she lives on Bronte Street,” Ray said from his place at the computer.
“Are you certain I cannot accompany you?” Sian asked. I didn’t miss the pleading note in his voice.
I debated the offer. “I’m sorry. I think it’s better if you don’t.” Two strangers on a doorstep were far more intimidating than one, and I wasn’t sure how the family would react. “I’ll report back as soon as I can.”
I shrugged on my coat and walked to my truck, casting glances from left to right in case Claude decided to lurk in the bushes.
The drive to Sarah Peele’s house gave me a quiet moment to reflect on the information I’d been given by the Fates. The revelation that my parents had been murdered was a tough pill to swallow. Every time I tried, I choked.
Had Pops known or had he truly believed it was an accident? I couldn’t imagine why he’d shield me from the truth when he’d been open about everything else.
Unless he hadn’t.
Someone murdered my parents. Because of me? Because of them? Wrong place, wrong time?
The thoughts curdled my stomach. I was almost relieved when I turned onto Bronte Street. Any excuse to stop the rumination.
The neighborhood was your typical suburban subdivision. One of the many farms that once occupied Fairhaven had been sold off and divided several times over to allow for this neighborhood. Most of the houses were two-story brick in the Colonial style. The lawns were maintained, and the only sign of disrepair was a broken slat in a fence. A dumpster straddled the width of the neighbor’s driveway like a hulking metal monster. Somebody was cleaning house.
A cat shot out from behind a bush, nearly tripping me. I caught myself before I faceplanted on the walkway. The cat turned to hiss at me before darting across the yard.
I rang the doorbell and waited. The muffled music of Stevie Nicks played inside. I pressed the bell again and the song ended.
The door opened. A middle-aged woman looked at me in surprise. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. She wore sweatpants and an MIT T-shirt that looked like it had been washed a hundred times.
Sarah Peele was my people.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Have you been out here long? I like to crank up the music when I’m cleaning, so I didn’t hear the bell.”
“Not long,” I said. “Are you Sarah Peele?”
Her brow creased. “I am. Can I help you with something?”
“I’m looking for a woman who arranged to meet a friend of mine earlier this week, except she didn’t show up.” I tried to keep the information vague in case the information I had was wrong.
“I’m sorry. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I almost believed her, except for the framed family portrait on the wall behind her. It included Sarah and two children, a boy and a girl. The kids appeared close in age. The brunette boy favored his mother. The girl, however, was fair and blonde and looked remarkably like the fae currently living in my house.
