He rolls his window up, curses muffled.
The hum of his Buick follows me all the way to Vallis Boulevard. He swings a jerky turn down the alley beside Wafting Crescent, parks, and jumps out. Morgan doesn’t say a word as he watches me unlock The Magick Happens and head inside,hands trembling, unintentionally slamming the door so hard that the bell above it falls down with a crash.
Up in the apartment, Luna and Aisling are at the kitchen table painting each other’s nails.
Luna pitches a fit at the state of me. “Why are you so sweaty?”
“Because it’s hotter than dragon’s breath outside, and I just walked three quarters of a mile.”
“Are you all right?” Her chair squeaks against the floor as she hip-checks it out of the way. “How’s Morgan?”
“Alive, somehow.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means he’s lucky.” I yank off my shoes. “I’m gonna go shower.”
“Wait! Not yet. Tell us about your date first. Did you hike out to the Davilla house? Is that why you look like you’re dying?”
“How’d you know he was taking me to the Davilla house?”
“He told us,” Ash chimes. “Why didn’t you bring me along? I’m the only one in this family who can see ghosts.”
I turn so that she doesn’t see me roll my eyes.
“Although.” She rummages in a cabinet for a teacup. “I heard you two made contact with the dead.”
“Heard from who?”
“Samuel.”
Ahh. Her imaginary friend, Samuel Pinney. It’s been a while since she’s told us what he’s up to. Luna fixes a hot toddy when the weather’s cold and leaves it by the fireside armchair downstairs, as it’s allegedly Samuel’s favorite drink. Ghostscan’t physically consume food or drinks, according to Aisling, but by movingthroughthem, they can taste their flavors faintly. This is also why a dish of chocolate-covered cherries perpetually sits on the counter: Luna freshens them up once a week for Grandma to enjoy. “Nope. Just heard noises, but nothing that can’t be explained.”
“Samuel—”
“Ash,” I cut in impatiently. “You’re telling stories again.”
“Hey, now.” Luna sends me a warning look.
“But he says you made contact with two poltergeists!” Aisling insists. “Strong entities capable of affecting your perceptions of reality.”
I feel myself shut down as she talks.
“It’s true. When a witch dies, their magic is separated from them, and it transforms into a different kind of energy. Other witches die, this energy accumulates, until eventually, it’s strong and solid enough to manifest into a poltergeist. It takes at least three dead witches to make a poltergeist, Samuel says.”
I pour myself a glass of water. “I truly do not know where you get this stuff.”
“I told you, from Samuel.”
“Sure, sure,” I mutter, thumping upstairs to grab clean clothes. I love Ash to the ends of the earth and can appreciate a vivid imagination, of course. But I resent being shut out of this rich world they all share, even Morgan. The only way in is if I pretend to believe as they pretend to believe. I can’t do it. I am firmly in the real world, and not even a beautiful man—not eventhe mostbeautiful man—is going to lure me down that path.
Nine
The trails out here can move on you, leading even the seasoned local astray. To appease the forest gods and keep your path, drop aragonite or fruit of the black gum tree as you go.
Local Legends and Superstitions,
Tempest Family Grimoire
