She took both my hands. “You are on the brink of something so pure and beautiful, Evangeline. Do not let the wounds you’ve been dealt prevent you from opening yourself to what the universe believes you deserve.”
My lower lip trembled. Moira’s cell beeped, ruining the moment. She winced and pulled out her phone, her mouth pursing as she read the text.
“Everything okay?” Mom asked.
“Sirena is asking to see us.”
“The gelato lady?” I asked in confusion.
Moira gave me a look. “We both know Sirena is a hell of a lot more than just a gelato lady.”
“She has your number?” I was having trouble catching up.
“Duh,” Moira said lightly. “How else would I know what the gelato specials are? She refuses to keep her social media updated.”
“And yet, she texts you?”
Moira waved a dismissive hand. “If only you knew how much money I have in my emergency gelato fund.”
“What does she want?” Mom, coming in with the real questions.
“She has information for us and won’t give it to us over the phone.”
“Could it be a trap?” Mom downed another drink, and Moira, on autopilot now, picked up the pitcher and refilled our glasses.
I was pleasantly buzzed, just about to tip over into full on drunk if I had much more. “Everything is a trap,” I said glumly.
“But if it’s not, and she can lead us to whoever’s doing this,” Moira mused. “That’d be worth the potential of danger, right?”
“What if we run into Caelan?” The thought made me shudder.
“He won’t recognize you,” Mom said. “Unless you get too close. I’ll put glamours on all of us.”
Moira refilled her own drink. “I want to be blonde.”
“Ooh. I’ll be a redhead,” I volunteered.
“Maybe I’ll go as one of the swans and see what happens,” Mom mused.
I gasped and pointed at her. “Genius. See if she has any besties that want to discuss mass murder and kidnappings.”
Moira snorted. “Yes, as one does during natural conversation.”
“What do you think?” Cliona asked. “Should we go? I’m happy to transport us. We can check on Evie’s land, see what the horny gelato maker wants, and stop by and get some of that delicious soup Marnie makes.”
I eyed her. “You know who Marnie is?”
“I care about the woman’s soup more than the woman,” Mom said. “Witches have never been high on my trust list. They’ve always got something brewing.”
We fell silent. Moira was the first to groan. “Is that why gods never tell jokes? Because they’re terrible at it? Gods, woman.”
“Mom.” I rolled my eyes. “You have to know how bad that was.”
Cliona’s eyes twinkled. “Let’s take a trip. You got a thermos, Evie? A big one? Moira will mix up more drinks for us.”
Moira stared down at her empty glass like she was surprised she held anything. “Um. Sure. But I’m feeling pretty buzzed. Should we slow down?”
Mom snorted. “I’ve got drops in my purse. No need to worry about hangovers.”
