Page 112 of Fresh Old Bounties

“I have a theory about that,” Ian said.

I sat up, alert. “You do?”

“The file on your grandma. It doesn’t have a receipt, meaning Duncan never got paid for the job.”

A spark of hope lit within me. “Maybe he discovered she didn’t have it because she was a good witch.”

“He’d have still gotten paid for that.” He sent me a fast glance, as if trying to gauge my mood. “My theory is that whoever hired him disappeared.”

“No chance of payment, no point in continuing the job,” I finished for him, disappointed. It fit, though. Hitmen were nothing if not realistic. No point in spending hours on the job out of the goodness of their nonexistent hearts. “So the client went broke and couldn’t pay, and your ex-partner stopped working.”

“Or the client died or went to jail.”

A bit too fatalistic for my tastes, but sure. “And then what? The information lay around until someone else found it?”

“Exactly.”

I gave that some consideration. “So the info about the spellbook and Grandma was in a box or a computer until an heir got their hands on it, or someone bought it at a sale, or something.”

“Yes.”

“And that person—Mystery Man—must’ve gained access to the original client’s files and your ex-partner’s updates and simply followed Grandma’s line to me. Since I have the witch shop, it was easy to assume I’d also have any of her witchy materials. And since you happened to live in the same city, you might’ve had something on me as well.”

“Yes.”

“How awful. I wonder what other erroneous information the original client had.”

“Are you still sure it was erroneous?”

“I am.” My chest filled with pride and renewed determination. “Grandma would never own a dark magic spellbook. If it ever crossed her hands, she’d have destroyed it.”

Unfortunately, there was no way to prove it.

The feeling of leaving a thousand threads unresolved persisted long after Ian dropped me at the Tea Cauldron and drove on to check on his strays and Key.

I opened the shop and prayed for some clients to keep my brain occupied, but when they came, the burst of activity only lasted for a few minutes. Once drinks were served, there was nothing for my brain to do but meander and dwell and do useless things like stare at imaginary ponds of melancholia and wonder how deep they went.

Not even the fact that the Tea Cauldron’s social media had doubled in followers overnight helped improve my mood. I followed everyone back dutifully, but oh, what was the point? They’d soon lose interest when no more drunken videos followed.

The last customer of the latest wave left, and the shop stood empty. I slapped my cheeks lightly.

“You will never find a path forward if you stop searching for it. Open yourself to the possibilities.”

“Indeed,” Bagley agreed. “Open yourself up, child, and listen to what I have to teach you.”

Good Mother Earth, the evil hag had the perfect timing. I’d be envious if I wasn’t so irritated. “I will never listen to your teachings.”

“Dark magic is not all I have to teach.”

That gave me pause. “You’d teach me good magic?”

“Maybe. Depends on the incentive.”

Of course it did.

Removing myself to the back, I texted Brimstone and Destruction with the account I’d opened to pay for the delivery location. It might not have been Bagley’s intention, but the reminder of her existence had served as a wake-up call. An opening of a new path, if you will, in the form of a new payment account.

This was why affirmations worked.

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