• • •
I wasn’t in a talking mood, so Jenny explained what we had found as we exited the school.
“Your own grandson?” Ronnie shook his head. “That sucks. He’s the one who started to get in my face the first time I came to the shop, right? I liked him. He was fiery.”
I didn’t answer. I concentrated on walking to the van as wave after wave of alternating anger and fear crashed over me.
“Alex has been busy,” said Temple. “Summoning-type magic, mostly.”
“Tell me he didn’t conjure up his own pet shoggoth,” said Jenny.
“Nothing that powerful,” he said. “The spell he and his after-school sorcery club cast most often was a version of Nabu-rihtu-usur’s ritual but smaller.”
“How small?” asked Ronnie.
“He couldn’t have summoned anything bigger than a Smurf.”
“Morgan can tell us what they were doing,” I said quietly.
“Alex cast a different spell a couple of months ago,” Temple continued. “He did this one solo, and something came through. I couldn’t see exactly what it was, but it was humanoid and significantly larger than a Smurf.”
Ronnie adjusted his katana. “Whatever it is, we can handle it.”
“I also picked up a whiff of surveillance magic,” said Temple. “I didn’t have time to track it down.”
Jenny’s breath hissed between her teeth. “Meaning there’s a chance Alex knows we’re onto him.”
I wasn’t worried about that. Alex would have found out sooner or later. Especially if Morgan was feeding him info.
I climbed into the back of the van. Let Jenny drive. She knew where Blake lived.
I pulled out my phone and texted Blake to let him know we were on our way over. He didn’t answer, of course.
I was supposed to be a detective, but I’d missed the signs from my own grandson.
Blake had done everything he could to give his kids a normal life. I, on the other hand, brought them over every Saturday to hang out with a wizard and a Hunter in a shop that literally lived on magic.
Had I been too open with Morgan, whetting his appetite for the supernatural? Or had I not been open enough, leaving him frustrated and curious and unprepared for the dangers?
Would Blake ever speak to me again after this?
When we arrived at my son’s house, the windows were dark and the street was quiet.
Jenny twisted around in her seat. “What’s the plan, Annette?”
I refocused on the present. I wanted to kick down the front door, march up the steps, drag Morgan out of bed, and shake the stupid out of him. Instead, I pointed to a second-story window. “That’s Morgan’s bedroom. Ronnie, stay outside in case he tries to sneak away and make a break for it.”
“You really think he’d do that?” asked Jenny.
“Fuck if I know.” I was so angry, I was shaking. “Fuck if I know anything about that boy.” To Ronnie, I said, “If he runs, yell for us. If you hurt him, I will personally drop you on Hell’s doorstep, understand? And take off that stupid sword.”
He nodded hard. “Yes, ma’am.”
I left the van and started up the driveway. Jenny intercepted me before I reached the porch. She stood between me and the door, facing me with a stern expression.
“What?” I snapped.
“Look at your hands.”
