Page 33 of A Winding Wave of Magic
I sighed as I flicked a fry back and forth like a miniature rapier. “Well, obviously he was her murderer.”
“Cass, you don’t know that.”
I dropped a piece of clam into the basket of fries. “This from the person predicting a grand conspiracy on the way here. Are you telling me that you trust that voice? I know I have nowhere near your abilities of mindreading?—“
“And I can’t See anything in the past, which was clearly where he was speaking from,” she argued back. “What’s your point?”
I scowled. “I know what I heard. Maybe he wasn’t there, but I felt something more. Something nasty. A spell, maybe, or at least the remnants of one.”
Reina was quiet for a long minute. Then she drained the rest of her tea and set the glass on the bar with a thud.“Cassandra.” Her fingers touched my bare knuckles and flooded me with support, tranquility, and…eventually, agreement.
“See,” I said quietly. “You felt it, too.”
She pulled her hand away and picked up a fry, though she took an extra-long time to eat it.
“Reina, just say it.”
She looked up. “Say what?”
“Whatever it is you’re mulling over. You know I can’t tell the way you can, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my lunch holding your wrist.”
Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Sorry. It’s just…”
“Just what?” I dipped a bit of clam into my ketchup.
“Your stranger…he’s British, right?”
You meet a strange British man—twice now—and then you hear a similar voice in the house a week after Penny’s death?”
I stared at my half-eaten clams. I couldn’t lie—the similarities had occurred to me. “I—I don’t know, exactly. His accent is odd. Sometimes it sounds like a Downton Abbey character. And sometimes he almost sounded like Gran.”
“So maybe he’s Irish? Like the guy on the phone?”
I shook my head. “That wasn’t him. And he isn’t the one whispering all that nonsense in the house either. He was in Boston when she died. Or at least, when I think she died, if Sibyl sent the telegram the same day she Saw it happen.”
I didn’t have to touch her to know what she was thinking. The question was written across her face:But how do you know?
“I don’t know,” I said. “I just don’t get that feeling from him.”
“I know you like him?—”
“Idon’tlike him. It just doesn’t make sense. He saves me twice from chaos, but murders my grandmother?” I shook my head. “The guy is kind of a jerk, but I don’t think he’s that kind of jerk.”
And yet, I couldn’t lie. Reina was right to be suspicious. There was something suspect about the green-eyed man’s sudden appearances in my life, alongside the strange box and Gran’s demise.
I remembered the warmth of his hand on my wrist. There was one thing about my abilities—they revealed the truth of a person’s essence immediately, even before their consciousthoughts and feelings. The man had been many things. Arrogant, irritated, even a bit sullen at times.
But evil? Murderous?
No, I hadn’t Seen that.
“He didn’t do it,” I said again, willing her to See my conclusions. “He might have something to do with all of this, but he’s not a killer. I know that much.”
Reina’s shoulders relaxed, but I didn’t think she was completely convinced. “So, what’s your plan now?”
I picked up a piece of clam, then put it back again. This conversation was ruining my appetite. “The medical examiner in Tillamook is expecting me this afternoon, so after you leave, I’ll drive down to claim the body. It’s only been a few days. Maybe she’ll still carry some traces of…whatever happened.”
The thought of confronting Gran’s lifeless body sent a new jolt of grief through my heart. But it seemed safer, somehow, than throwing myself into whatever was lurking in the house.
