“Have a complicated history there,” Eva said, nodding her head. “I get it.”
“But do you get where I’m coming from?” I asked, not quite managing to mask the note of desperation in my voice. Luckily, Eva’s expression was entirely clear as she nodded.
“Of course, I do,” she said. “You can’t grow up under Xiomara’s roof without developing a healthy trust of the ancestors and their messages. If Asteria says we can trust her, then we can trust her. So what’s next?”
I was so relieved that tears began to well up in my eyes, and I had to blink them impatiently away. “Thanks, Eva. I really… thanks.”
Zale, meanwhile, finally seemed to have gotten a handle on himself. He pulled his hand away from his mouth, and asked in a strangled sort ofwhisper, “So is the Conclave flipping out over the grimoire? Because I assumed it was just over the whole missing body thing.”
“Yes. And it sort of sucks that they were already on high alert, but now I think it might actually work to our advantage,” I said.
“How?” Eva and Zale both asked together.
“Because, like I said, Jess needs to get under the Playhouse to examine the Source, and the grimoire has been moved to the lighthouse for safekeeping. And I think that might be exactly the distraction we need.”
Eva frowned. “Meaning?”
“Meaning security has two locations to guard instead of just one. We have to draw them away from the Playhouse to the lighthouse, just long enough for Jess to get inside and get a look at the Source.”
“And exactly how are we supposed to do that?” Eva asked.
“With a distraction.”
Eva rolled her eyes. “Obviously, but what kind of distraction?”
I smiled. “The kind only a waterworker can provide.”
16
The next two days were the absolute longest of my life.
Never had the hours dragged by so slowly. Never had I lived in such a constant state of torturous anticipation. Every time the phone rang, my heart leapt into my throat—I was sure we’d be busted, that somehow they’d figured out that we’d broken into the funeral home, or else they’d managed to track Jess down wherever it was she was hiding. Every time I heard my name, I jumped like someone had slammed a door. It was a damn good thing that everyone else at Lightkeep was as on edge as I was, or my mother surely would have noticed something was off. Instead, we were all walking on eggshells, waiting for news that never came, and then speculating endlessly on why it hadn’t.
The difference, of course, was that I was the only one who was grateful it didn’t come. No news was good news, as far as I was concerned.
For the first time since I’d begun studying with her, Xiomara canceled my spirit communication lesson with her. I answered a knock at the door on Sunday to find her standing there, her expression tight and grim.
“There is no point,mija,” she said, her gravelly voice rougher and more hoarse than usual, like she hadn’t slept. “Until I can get past myblock and understand what is interfering with my spirit gifts, I see no reason to waste your time and mine.”
“Is it really that bad?” I asked.
A spasm of emotion passed over Xiomara’s face before she could suppress it. “My efforts since last we spoke have been met with nothing but silence from the spirit world.”
I had no idea what to say. I was upset enough over my spirit gifts, but Xiomara had been practicing for decades. She had come to rely on her spirit gifts—to seek the regular counsel of the Marin witches long passed, and to draw on their magic to aid in her own. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like, to feel like such an intimate part of yourself had been stripped away with no explanation.
“What about Bea?” I asked. I hadn’t seen Bea since the night she arrived in the garden with Jess’ message.
Xiomara shook her head looking, if possible, even more lost. “It is the same with her. No contact. And I’ve taken the additional step of going around Sedgwick Cove. I’ve spoken to every spirit witch in the Cove, as well as every witch I know who regularly uses spirit boards or other means of consulting with the dead. Everywhere it is the same. Silence.”
I swallowed hard. Any lingering doubts I had about my decision to help Jess vanished on the spot. If everything she had told me was true—and I had no reason to doubt her—then she understood the spirit world better than anyone in Sedgwick Cove, and we needed her to help us understand just what the hell was happening.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” was all I could think to say to Xiomara. The words felt useless, and sure enough she waved them away impatiently.
“I need to talk to Rhiannon. Is she here?” she asked.
“Yeah, she’s in the kitchen, as usual,” I told her. “Head on back.”
Xiomara marched back toward the kitchen with all the familiarity her long friendship with Rhi had fostered. She pulled out a chair at the round table, and settled herself into it with a grunt by way of greeting. Rhi looked up from the three separate pots she had steaming on the stove and stepped away at once, lowering the heat.
