“They let her go? Why not let me go, then?” Maggie’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Sorry. I know you don’t know why they won’t. Ugh.”
They zipped along the road a few minutes before Maggie said, “Four sets of ID or three?”
“Four.” Ellie’s stomach twisted. The odds of pulling this off weren’t great, but she wasn’t going to abandon Hestia. She had come back for Ellie, and now it was Ellie’s turn.
“Charlie isn’t my cousin’s actual name. It’s Hector. Charlie is a fake name in case anyone’s listening.” Maggie glanced over. “He’s family, though. We’re safe.”
Ellie didn’t point out that if they were safe, no one would be listening in on his calls, and they wouldn’t be running from a town filled with witches. If they were safe, they’d be in their old lives, blissfully unaware of potential magic, lying witches, and hidden towns. There was no point in saying any of that, though, so the rest of the drive to Hector’s was quiet.
When they pulled into what looked like an abandoned service station, Ellie had the distinct feeling that this was why seemingly rational people carried a gun.
Across from the lot, in the shadows alongside the building’s ruins, an El Camino was parked. Gold or bronze or something. It was idling there, and Ellie wasn’t sure either of them ought to get out of their car.
“This is a terrible plan.”
Maggie laughed quietly. “Hector’s my cousin. Myactualcousin. I trust him.”
That didn’t do much for Ellie’s anxiety, but she still handed Maggie their recently acquired phone. On it was the headshot of Hestia that Ellie had downloaded. The benefit of Hestia’s archaeology and book-writing notoriety was that finding a good portrait of her online took all of two minutes.
Ellie stared at the quietly idling car. “How do you know it’s even him?”
“I know his car.” Maggie flashed a grin and got out. “Be right back.”
Ellie watched her walk away into the shadows. She’d left the keys in the ignition, and that felt like a hint that Maggie might not be as sure as she’d said. Minutes ticked by as Ellie debated following or getting in the driver’s seat at the least. Maybe they’d need a quick getaway or—
The gold El Camino drove off, slow and steady, not even kicking up gravel. Maggie lifted a hand to wave at the car’s occupants. Then, she sauntered back to the car to join Ellie.
As she slid back in, she said, “Noon tomorrow.”
Ellie felt foolish, but honestly, she wasn’t exactly used to clandestine meetings at abandoned gas stations. She stared at the window. “We need a hotel. A little sleep. Maybe an actual meal.”
43Maggie
Being in a hotel after living in a castle was a surreal experience. It ought to be easy to slip back into this world, this set of details that made things “normal,” but there was some saying about not being able to un-know things. Now that she knew magic was real—that she was magic—the Kozy Komfort Motel seemed wrong. The beds were new, and the blankets were standard motel fare. She’d stayed at such places in her younger years, and she’d even met clients or witnesses at them when they were skittish.
“Are you okay?” Ellie asked as they climbed into their beds that night.
Maggie turned out the light. Sometimes confessions were easier in the dark. “I wanted to stay there. Raise my kid there. Build a life where he was safe from his father and the darknesses of this world.”
Quiet stretched. Then Ellie said, “If he’s not alive…”
“He is.” Maggie sighed. Explaining her connection to her son was one of those things that seemed beyond words. Now that she knew she was a witch, she realized she’d been using some low level of magic her whole life. “We’re witches, Ellie. Magic is fucking real… and my connection to my kid ismagic.” She heard the vibrating frustration in herown voice, so she took a moment before adding, “He’s alive. I know it as truly as you know your aunt was siphoned for you.”
“Why would they lie like that?” Ellie asked. “I don’t get it.”
Maggie shook her head. She’d circled that question in her mind like the lawyer she was. Rolling over details was her process. It was how she found holes in a case. “Either because he’s not magic so he’s not welcome,orbecause he’s a kid. There were no kids there. None. At first I thought they were in school or something…”
“I hadn’t really thought much about that.” Ellie rolled on her hip to stare at Maggie across the gap between their beds.
Maggie glanced at her. “The other possibility is you.”
“Me?”
“Maybe they thought you needed me because there was no way they’d let you go willingly.” Maggie rolled to face her. “And by ‘they,’ I mean Prospero. I don’t trust her.”
Ellie flopped back onto her back. “I get it.”
And for a moment, Maggie felt guilty. She was accusing Prospero of lies because she knew Craig was alive, but she saw in Ellie’s reactions that Ellie was hoping Prospero hadn’t lied, that Prospero could explain herself, that she could make things right. Maggie had seen plenty of women in Ellie’s position, desperate to believe despite facts. Few of them ever had the kind of happy-ever-after ending they wanted.
