Lu fished her sunglasses out of her pocket and put them on, her boots crunching across the gravel as she made her way to the truck.
“I bought something at the thrift shop that’s worth selling. What did you buy, Brogan?”
“Postcards and clothes. Because you told me to.”
“You had time to look around. I saw you eyeing that bookmark.”
“Which I would have bought if Abbi hadn’t shown up.”
“I know.” She flashed me a toothy smile. “Which is why I bought it. I’m gonna get a hundred bucks for that thing.”
“It’s magic,” I said.
“I know.”
“Headwaters?”
“Nope. I didn’t offer it up to him.”
“Then who’s the sucker paying a hundred bucks for a bookmark that probably only has residual—also probably useless—magic in it?”
“Crossroads.”
I couldn’t help it. I scowled.
“Come on, Brogan. You know she’s a good person.”
“I surely the shit do not know that.”
“All right.” She stopped in front of the truck, her hand on the door latch. “You know she’s a knowledgeable person.”
“Yes.” It was all she was going to get. I didn’t hate the woman. I didn’t much like her either.
“She’ll do the right thing with the magic. Lock it up if it’s dangerous,” Lu said.
“We both know it’s not dangerous. It’s a bookmark.”
“Dangerous things come in small packages too.”
“Sure. Obviously.” What I couldn’t figure out was why she hadn’t tried to sell it to Headwaters.
“Maybe you just want to check in with her,” I said, rounding the front of the truck to the passenger side. I opened the door and shouldered into the cab.
Lorde panted and made happy sounds, ready for the road again.
“Who?” Lu asked, getting in the driver’s seat.
“Crossroads.”
She pushed the key into the ignition, but instead of starting the engine, she twisted to look at me. “You don’t like her.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes, you did.”
That was one of the drawbacks of having only minutes at a time to see and speak to each other over nearly a hundred years: We each had gotten good—really good—at reading all the subtle, unspoken cues in the other.
“All right. I’m not fond.”
