Maureen tilted her head in a question.
“No,” Felicia repeated. “If I’m going to do this, we go now, tonight, and nip this thing in the bud before it has time to grow.”
“But the museum isn’t open right now.”
“Do you really want the public around when I use my ‘pragmatic magic’ to fight something from a stone tablet? Do you?”
It was Maureen’s turn to frown. “No. Not really.”
Felicia stood. “Fine. Let’s get ready. Do you need anything from your house?”
“No...” she said, looking Felicia up and down. “I have my satchel with me. But there is one thing...”
“I hate you so much,” Felicia growled, her arms crossed. “I donotwant to wear that ugly thing.” She glared at the blue canvas vest with “Docent” emblazoned on its front and back in white.
Maureen’s face remained passive, pleasant, and uncompromising. “All docents need to wear these. It’s the only way you’ll be allowed in the back hallways. Please?”
Felicia snatched the vest with a scowl and put it on. “You owe me for this.”
“I know.” Maureen gave her a once-over and nodded her approval. They both wore comfortable black pants and black shirts along with the docent vests. They also had identical satchels overtheir shoulders—embroidered with colorful symbols, patterns, and swirls. Felicia’s curly gray hair had been pulled back into a low ponytail. “You look respectable.”
“I’ll teach you about respect...”
“More to the point, you look like you belong. A docent-in-training if the night guard catches us doing something we shouldn’t.” Maureen kept her voice light and unconcerned.
“We’re standing in the darkened parking lot of the closed museum. Of course we’re doing something we shouldn’t.”
“Now, now. No one knows whether I bring prospective docents in after hours for training. It’s a plausible enough story. Besides, you were the one who said we need to do this now.”
Felicia waved a hand. “Fine. Let’s get on with it.”
The two of them walked up to the back entrance to the museum. Maureen stopped and looked at the cars parked next to the building. “Looks like Harold’s car and Joseph’s car.”
“And they are...?”
“Harold Sperling, the curator. He’s usually gone home by now.” Maureen flipped through a ring of keys. “Joe’s the night security guard. There’s two of them. One works three nights a week. The other, Adam, works four nights a week.”
“Didn’t ask for their life stories.” Felicia made a gesture with two fingers and a small glowing glyph hung in the air for a couple of seconds before fading away. “Also, the last fifteen minutes of video surveillance is gone along with the next two hours.”
“Felicia!” Maureen paused as she opened the door.
“What? Do you want to be on camera? Also, do you think we’re going to do this without any damage?”
The other woman grimaced. “All right. But let’s keep the damage to a minimum. Please?”
“I’m the ‘pragmatic’ one, remember? I’ll do what I have to do.”Felicia nodded ahead and down the hall as she closed the door behind them. “You’re up.”
Joseph Lolen, the night guard, hurried down the hallway toward them. “Maureen? You’re not supposed to be here. Did you forget something?” He looked around, nervous and unhappy. “Who’s this?”
“This is Felicia. I’m taking her on a tour of the museum before she starts formal docent training.” Maureen pointed at Felicia’s blue vest.
Joe rubbed the side of his head, his body jerking in small, uncomfortable twitches. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. That’s not standard procedure. There’s something wrong here tonight. You two need to go.”
Maureen muttered, “Oh, bother.” Then she looked Joe in the eye. “It’s time for you to take your lunch. You’ve decided to go to that twenty-four-hour diner on Central Way. You’re hungry. You’ve got the time. I’ll be here.”
Joe’s eyes got a faraway glassy look. “Crystal Creek Café. Right. You’ll be here.” He drifted past them to the back entrance. “I’m hungry.” Without looking left or right, he exited.
As the security guard left, Felicia snorted. “I’m not the only pragmatic witch around here. Even I don’t cloud the mind like that on a whim.”
