Prospero didn’t even knock. Maybe it was a witch thing—or bad manners. She opened the door, and they trailed behind her obediently.
They walked into a massive kitchen with a restaurant-level oven and counter space, only to find an angry old woman with a cane.
“Where’s my Ellie?” The woman leaned on the edge of a desk with giant shelves above and beside it. She lifted her cane like she was brandishing a sword. Apparently, rudeness was hereditary.
“Why doesn’t she… wait.Hestia?” Sondre’s voice pitched higher in shock. “Ellie Brandeau is Hestia’s kid. Is Walt—”
“No.” The cane-wielding senior pointed her makeshift weapon at him. “I’m not her mother.”
“Do you know me?” Sondre asked.
“Sure. You’re the jackass that just barged in my house with this hussy and that scrawny fellow there.” Hestia’s nostrils flared like an angry bull. She glared at Prospero. “YouI know somehow.”
Foul temper is genetic, apparently.
Sondre turned to Prospero. “I have questions.Citizenswho leave don’t recognize us, and people whose family vanishes don’t act like this.”
Prospero rubbed her temples. “Hestia was resistant to erasure, like Ellie is.”
Hestia started grabbing things from the shelf she leaned against. Several books and a large jar that looked like it belonged in a museum went flying. One book hit Prospero, and the jar would’ve hit Sondre if not for his quick reflexes.
“Oh for goodness’ sake,” Prospero grumbled. She put her hands on her hips; her face was pained as she concentrated on something they couldn’t see. Then, she let out a forced laugh. “Ellie will be here any minute, Hestia. Are you getting senile? I’m here to pick you up to come stay with us. We eloped. Do you not remember? Or are you still mad?”
Sondre shoved Dan forward. “Shoulder now.”
His hand gripped Prospero’s shoulder as she continued repeating some version of the above sentences. This time, though, she added, “You’re a witch, Hestia. Did you forget?”
Hestia stared at her, slack-jawed and blinking.
When Prospero shook him off, Dan slid into a chair that Sondre pulled out. Whatever was going on, Dan still wasn’t sure, but he’d figured out that Prospero was changing people’s reality—and he was adding a power boost to her magic to get it done.
Not the good guys. Not at all.
But if this was what it took to live in Crenshaw, this was what hehadto do, right? He was at least 70 percent certain of that. One day.One bad thing. It wasn’t the worst thing, and the old lady seemed happy enough now.
His gaze strayed to the door to the yard where the teenager was sleeping.
It won’t be one day, though.
Dan knew better. He wasn’t stupid. It hit him, though, that this was how both heroes and villains were made: one action, one day. Little by little, they chose their path, and then suddenly, they were a little bit more of who they were becoming.
And Dan was fairly sure he wasn’t becoming a hero.
48Maggie
When they pulled up at the house, Maggie looked over at Ellie. “Do you feel that?”
“Magic.” Ellie shuddered. “You can stay in the car. I can’t abandon Hestia to them. Prospero has already poked around in her head once before.”
Maggie wasn’t about to abandon Ellie either. She opened her door and slid out. “Front door or back?”
“Back.”
Neither woman closed the car doors. Logically, the witch inside already knew they were there, but hopefully, Maggie was overestimating Prospero. They crouched down, keeping to the edge of the house until they reached the back.
“Mags?” Ellie pointed at a pile of clothes on the ground.
No, not clothes.
