Page 89 of Wicching Hour

“Huh,” he mumbled. “I wonder why?” His arm slid around me as he looked over the group. “Is everyone ready to eat?”

“Yes,” Frank and Faith said in unison.

“Sorry I made you wait,” I said again.

“Don’t be silly,” Elizabeth said, walking over to give me a hug. She knew just how to do it without touching my skin.

Uncle Robert rubbed my shoulder in lieu of a hug, trying to make it safe for me, which I appreciated. “They’ve only had a few shifts, but the kids are really enjoying working here.”

“Thank goodness.” I lowered my voice. “If that ever changes, let me know.”

He nodded, patted my shoulder again, and moved to stand beside his wife.

Declan took out all the trays and lined them up, peeling off the covers. “Can everyone grab a plate and then come up and take whatever looks good. We have Mexican rice and black beans, some chicken flautas. In this pan we have chicken, beef, and cheese enchiladas. I think the beef is in red sauce and the chicken is in green. Honestly, I’m not sure about the cheese. Here we have a few chimichangas. Those three are beef. These three are chorizo.”

He pointed to the last tray and said, “And then we have tacos. These are beef. These are chicken. Carnitas. Chorizo. Shrimp.” When he turned, he appeared confused by our stunned faces.

“That’s a lot of food,” Elizabeth said and then gave him the sweetest smile. “You’re so kind providing a feast for us.”

“Wolves need a lot of fuel,” I said, “and he loves leftovers.”

He laughed at that. “I really do. And we have churros and flan for dessert.”

I waved everyone forward. “Let’s fill up our plates, share some secrets, and come up with a plan to deal with our sorcerer problem.”

THIRTY-NINE

Cartography & Churros

My stomach was close to exploding, but I still ate one more forkful of flan. So. Good. I slid my plate over to Declan, who finished the wedge of caramelly, custardy goodness in one bite. He was so good at not looking like he was eating as much as he was, probably due to his excellent table manners. The kids were excited about the churros and had had a couple each. Everyone was chatting happily, even Bracken.

I wasn’t sure if this evening would prove to be too much for him, but he was hanging in there and seemed content to talk with Robert about his work as a healer for human children. When Bracken’s notebook had come out, I was pretty sure we were going to be okay.

“I hate to be a killjoy, but we should probably talk about our sorcerer problem,” I said.

Elizabeth nodded, patting my covered arm. “You’re right. I think we were all enjoying the company and wishing we could forget about her.”

“Unfortunately,” Robert said, “avoiding problems doesn’t solve them. We need to deal with Calliope, but we also need to stop more from popping up. This family is plagued by sorcerers and black magic practitioners.”

“Yes,” Bracken said, nodding. “We think we know why.” He glanced at me, seemingly checking to see if he could elaborate.

“We’re all on the same side,” I told him, “and we’re showing all our cards. No more secrets. This family has way too many of them.”

He looked down a moment and tapped his notebook. “This is so.” Taking in the whole table, he began, “We believe there’s a demonic grimoire that’s passed down from one sorcerer to the next.”

“I had a dream,” I elaborated. “It was about Abigail singling out Cal for special private lessons when she was a child. She whispered to Cal that her friend had told Abigail to keep her eyes on Cal, that she would be a good candidate for special lessons.”

Elizabeth hung her head. “I never saw it. Abby wasn’t my favorite sister, but I never saw the evil.” With tears glistening in her eyes, she turned to me. “Like your mother was with Sylvia, that’s what it was like for Bridget and me. We were inseparable growing up.” She shook her head. “Sybil told me Abby hunted Bridget and her little girl relentlessly, finally slaughtering Bridget in some run-down apartment where she and her daughter had been hiding. And now not only did she torture her own sister, she also offered up her niece to a demon.”

“Mom and Gran didn’t see it either,” I assured her. “I’ve seen visions of the grimoire she’s using, but I can’t read the writing. Just looking at it in a vision makes my head pound. I asked a half-demon I know about it. He says it sounds like demonic script and that he has heard of an ancient grimoire that’s been used in an old wicche family for centuries. Given the disproportionate number of black wicches and sorcerers in this family, it stands to reason the story’s about us.”

Faith gasped and we all looked in her direction. She pointed at the back door. “A man just walked by.”

Declan rose and went to the door. He looked in both directions and then said something we couldn’t hear. A moment later, Jake and Tyler stood in the doorway.

“This is Jake and this is Tyler,” Declan said, gesturing to each man in turn. “They’re wolves like me and they’re here to guard Arwyn. There are too many threats directed her way right now. If you ever see something in the gallery that looks scary or just odd, please tell Jake, Tyler, or Carter. They’ll sort it out.”

“And not just about me,” I clarified. “If there’s someone bothering either of you, tell them. You shouldn’t have to deal with any of that either. Okay?”

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