I blinked and glanced at Didi. She shrugged, confirming his words.
Stocky Marcheford clocked the witch and Gavin with a wariness that said he was accustomed to being watched by the supernatural community. His gaze dropped to Bo and turned puzzled for a moment.
He regained his composure as the other Marchefords shuffled hesitantly behind him.
“May I ask what your visit is about?”
Didi replied before I could formulate an answer.
“Some people noticed you guys buying supplies,” she said coldly. “Given your family’s history, it raised some eyebrows.”
Something tightened in Stocky Marcheford’s jaw. I smelled annoyance and resignation from the other Marchefords. Tall Marcheford’s arms were folded. The woman’s eyes were hard. Young Marcheford just looked exhausted.
“Our history,” Stocky Marcheford repeated quietly. He glanced back at the trio huddledbehind him. “You mean the one where our family got manipulated by the Thornwicks into doing something stupid and lost everything.”
It wasn’t a question.
Didi’s expression had gone carefully neutral. Gavin was studying his shoes with the nervous look of a dragon newt who wanted to be anywhere but here.
I scratched my cheek and decided to change the subject.
“I thought you weren’t allowed to do party tricks.”
The Marchefords stiffened.
“We didn’t use magic,” the woman snapped.
“Olive,” Stocky Marcheford warned. He met my gaze steadily, his own cooling. “She’s right. The ban on our family’s activities covers magic only. “
“The wood carving business hasn’t been great lately,” Tall Marcheford said defensively. “We saw an ad for party entertainers. Figured it couldn’t be harder than carving a dining table.”
“Trust me, it’s harder,” Young Marcheford muttered with feeling.
Stocky Marcheford’s gaze returned to mine. There was no anger in it. Just the quiet, worn-down endurance that said he’d spent decades living under a cloud that wasn’t entirely of his making.
“This is our first gig, Miss West. The Hendersons don’t know what we are. To them, we’re just the guys who agreed to do their kid’s party for a reasonable rate.”
Something tugged in my chest. My wolf huffed softly.
I could smell a mix of conflicting emotions wafting off Didi. The witch seemed to come to a decision.
“I won’t report this to the covens,” she said curtly. “Just make sure you keep this side gig on the down-low.”
The Marchefords looked surprised at this.
“Thank you,” Stocky Marcheford murmured.
The family watched us leave silently, their relief palpable.
The mood in the car was subdued on the drive back. The only one who looked excited was Bo and that was because I’d promised him we’d swing by Stake My Shake and get him his favorite burger.
“Maybe we should have asked the Marchefords about the Lincoln sisters’ disappearance,” Gavin said.
Didi frowned. “I doubt they know anything.”
I had to concur. The Marchefords were a dead end.
“So if the Marchefords are out,” Gavin muttered from the back seat as he fidgeted with a fire extinguisher, “that leaves?—”
