Marnie fished in the canvas bag she’d brought to the table and pulled out four tiny misshapen ceramic bowls that she sat directly underneath the floating debris.
With a deft flick of her hand, Twila guided each into their respective bowls and dropped her magic.
“Cool trick,” I said.
Twila was the taller and quieter one of the sister duo. She spoke only when she had something to say, and I found I should always listen when she deigned to speak.
“The living material is in the red bowl.”
I grimaced.
“The blue bowl contains dirt and dust and a little bit of plant debris. The orange holds small fragments of magic given form. And the green bowl is…” Her voice trailed off. “Miscellaneous.”
Moira blinked. “You don’t know what it is?”
Twila shrugged. “Not what we need. That’s all I know for now. At least for tracking. Maybe it’s important. Maybe it’s not. No way to know until we begin.”
I leaned over and peered down at the green bowl. “Looks like dirt to me.”
Thalia gave me a sharp look. “Dirt is where powerful things grow, Evie.”
Unsettled, I sat back in my chair. Moira pushed her coffee away. “Now we have to dig through the…” She waved her hand at the bowl of hair and other bits. “Living material?”
“Do you have tweezers?” I asked.
Marnie rolled her eyes. “Don’t think the major players of this town don’t know what you two have been up to. You’ve seen far worse things than a bowl full of hair and nail clippings.”
Moira and I exchanged a glance.
“Fine,” she growled as she took the bowl and tipped the contents out onto a white napkin.
I dug through my purse and pulled out a pencil.
Moira saw it and exclaimed, “Cheater!”
“You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first,” I crowed.
“You got another one?”
I shoved my purse at her.
After a fruitless search, Moira finally pulled out a toothpick. Both of us scooted our chairs closer and started going through the pile.
Chapter
Thirteen
“People are disgusting,” I announced half an hour later.
“If you think this is bad, imagine all the things people knowingly do,” Marnie said ominously.
Moira’s nose wrinkled. “I do not want to know.”
I frowned at my pencil. “I’m not putting this back in my purse. It’s seen some things.”
We were left with three tiny piles of hair. Some we couldn’t identify at all. Some was Tess’s, some was mine, and two short strands were blond enough to give us hope that they belonged to Lou.
“Where’s yours?” I asked.
