I didn’t feel anything.
I did it again.
Was I doing it wrong? The purple vapors were thinning. We were running out of time.
I grabbed Elwood’s hand and pressed the stone into his palm. “You try.”
Elwood swept his hand through the cloud. His eyebrows rose, and he hummed. Then he did it again. Then, in a little pop, the purple cloud was gone.
“There was nothing on that one,” Elwood said, confirming my own results. The results I hadn’t trusted.
How long would it take for me to get the hang of this? I mean, I knew it’d only been a few weeks since I found out I was magical, but if it was a part of me, shouldn’t it come naturally? Babies learned to roll over and crawl all on their own, so it seemed like magic should work the same.
Elwood crossed to the nearest kitchen chair and collapsed into it.
“Are you okay?” I rushed to his side.
He waved off my concern. “How many other items do we have to check?”
“Just one.” The box I’d collected from Leon was empty, but Malcolm's still remained. I’d left his until last because his submission hadn’t actually been in the competition. But Elwood had asked the brewer to drop it off so we could compare it to the others. The postmark on the envelope containing his application showed it’d been mailed in plenty of time, just like he’d said. But it’d obviously been rejected, unopened, withReturn to Senderscribbled across the white paper. The growler was still sealed. “But we can wait until tomorrow. It’s been a long day.”
As if in agreement, George fell to his back on the table. His little paws twitched in the air like he was in the throes of death, just like they had in his little show with Eugene the night before. Who knew a mouse could be so melodramatic?
Elwood glanced at the clock on the stove. “Is there something going on with the festival tonight?”
“The panel discussion,” I said.
I’d originally hoped to get there before it started, but the start time had come and gone while we’d been testing the growlers and applications. If I hurried, I could still make it to some of the meet and greet. I had questions, particularly after what Elwoodand I had discovered today. Tonight’s event was the perfect opportunity to ask them.
And Gideon had said he’d be there.
I hadn’t seen him since this morning, and I missed him.
Which was ridiculous. There’d been times when Josh was away for work for days and I hadn’t missed him the entire time he’d been gone. Yeah. That said a lot, didn’t it?
Which reminded me… Josh was in town. I really doubted I could avoid him all week, but I would do my best.
A contract with a big brewing company was a good gig for him. I was surprised Josh had been able to get it, but he’d probably used projects we’d worked on together on his proposal. I bet he was panicking about now, trying to figure out how to do everything on his own. No wonder he’d been texting nonstop. Josh always was a lazy asshole, eager to delegate rather than dive in and get things done.
I should probably tell Gideon about Josh being around. If Gideon found out I knew and hadn’t told him, he might think I was trying to keep it a secret. And I wasn’t. I didn’t want any secrets from Gideon because secrets led to lies, and lies sucked.
A noise at the window drew me out of my head.
Licorice bobbed her head when our gazes caught. I didn’t know how I knew it was her and not some other random raven, but I did.
“Go on,” Elwood said. “Let her in.”
She jumped off the windowsill and took to the air when I cranked the window open, then she circled back and landed in the opening. I brushed my finger over the glossy feathers on the crown of her head.
“Hello, Licorice,” I said. “I said we’d hang out, didn’t I? But I’m not sure I have time now.”
“Oh! You named her! You’re already bonding. And so intuitively, too,” Elwood said. Ha… sothatwas the magicalequivalent of a baby rolling over. Good to know. Then he smiled at her. “Hello, Licorice. It’s lovely to meet you properly.”
Licorice’s head tilted one way, then the other, as she studied him. Then she hopped inside, landing first on the counter, then, with a little flutter of her wings, she jumped to the back of a wooden chair by the table. Her black talons curled around the top rail.
Wait. Should she be inside? I had a friend in high school who had finches, and those little guys shit something like six times an hour. A raven’s would be a lot bigger. That’d make a big mess. She really, really shouldn’t be in the kitchen.
“And this is George.”
