The smell of the outdoors was still on Sloane’s clothes as she stood in Mallow Cottage’s living room. Her afternoon with Rose had been great. She’d uncovered useful information. But Rose was becoming a distraction.
She stared at the room. Framed art hung on every inch of the walls, knickknacks covered every surface, and antique rugs and furniture filled the floor. Her grandparents were hoarders. Their home was crammed with stuff, three times as much as Jane had in her apartment. People who held on to things confused her. Why burden yourself? Now she had to dispose of Jane’s and her parents’ stuff.
She tossed her tote on the sofa. Being in Denwick was starting to feel too complicated. She hoped she didn’t have to be in Canada to finalize property sales because she didn’t want to return once she left.
Drowsy from the wine at lunch, she dropped to the sofa, her head falling back on the cushion. The truth was Rose’s company was the best she had had since arriving. Hell, it was the best she had had in years. But Rose was a suspect until she wasn’t, and the last thing she needed was to complicate her investigation with feelings.
Sloane walked to the refrigerator for a diet soda and rested her hip against the island, watching Elvina sleep on the window seat.
She roused and lifted on all fours, arched her back, stretching and yawning, and turned to Sloane. Hello, dear. It’s late. Did you have a pleasant day?
Her smooth voice flowed through Sloane’s head. “Yeah, it was good.”
Why so melancholy then? Elvina leaped off the seat and padded to a kitchen counter, where a small fountain of water streamed down a fake rock into a ceramic bowl.
“I’m fine.” Sloane drained the soda, crushed the can, and tossed it in a bin. “I have a lot of things on my mind. Like dinner. Are you hungry?”
Depends on what you’re planning to serve.
“Watch it, or it’s canned tuna for you.” Sloane took a pack of chicken from the refrigerator. “I could grill these. Add some baby potatoes and peppers.”
“Sounds wonderful. Am I invited?” Dorathea asked from behind the refrigerator door.
Sloane slammed it shut. “Jesus Christ. Stop doing that.” She tossed the chicken into the sink. “Can’t you ring the doorbell like a normal person?”
“Oh, your flair for the dramatic.” She shook her head and stepped past Sloane. “I admire understated personalities, myself.”
“Nice. That coming from the woman appearing out of thin air and wearing a purple cloak.”
Elvina leaped onto the island. So much for relaxation. I figured you’d be in a better mood after lounging in the sun all afternoon.
Sloane glared at her. “How did you know that? Were you spying on me?”
I don’t spy, dear.
“Your safety is Elvina’s responsibility,” Dorathea said.
“Was I in danger with Rose Keane? You said my ability is protecting, right? So I can take care of myself. No more spying on me, got it?”
She said you could in time , Elvina answered.
“You are untrained and reckless with your abilities. That makes you vulnerable.” Dorathea sighed. “However, Elvina’s presence had nothing to do with protection. You attempted the detection spell without permission.”
“Yeah. But it didn’t work.”
“That matters not. Consequently, I spent most of the afternoon with the Grand Coven trying to call off the Weardas for your illegal use of magic.”
“What’s the Weardas?”
Who, not what. They are our guardians , answered Elvina. Like the Nogical police.
“Okay. The more important issue is my spell didn’t work. I haven’t had any problems with it during practice.”
Dorathea shook her head. “Maybe it failed because subconsciously, you knew it was the wrong thing to do.”
Sloane laughed. “I doubt that.”
“And if you have forgotten, the Keane family is on our case board. Is it wise to spend time with Rose outside of the investigation?”
Sloane brushed past Dorathea and went outside. “It was for the case. Rose is a good informant. She’s already given me answers that would’ve taken days to sort out.” She lit the grill and scrubbed the grate with a wire brush as if it was a gang tag on her stoop. Her mind traveled back to New York. Jane on a slab in the morgue. Harold’s body slumped over her armchair. Her heart pounded the air out of her lungs, forcing her to steady herself against the barbeque.
“Are you all right?” Dorathea appeared next to her with a platter of chicken and vegetable kabobs.
“I’m fine.” Sloane looked at the platter. “Why did you do that? I said I would make dinner.”
“As you know, Elvina can be quite impatient with her meals. So I decided to hurry things along.” Dorathea handed the food to her. “Don’t pull a face. Go on.”
The marinade sizzled when the kabobs hit the grill. Steam spiraled up, diffusing Thai spice aromas through the air. Sloane stabbed at the chicken breasts.
Dorathea returned from inside carrying a stack of dishes. “Seems even cooking is aggressive in New York.” She set plates and flatware on the patio table.
The aromas enticed Elvina, and she slinked onto the deck. I want you to know, dear, familiars don’t spy. I mostly slept in a tree when the crows left me alone.
Sloane’s thoughts returned to the picnic, the bright sun on her face, and the sound of rushing water. The crows, cawing.
Dorathea twirled her finger, and a bottle of white wine, a pitcher of water, two glasses, and a saucer appeared. “What did you find out from Rose?”
Sloane turned the kabobs. “She knew why Lore and Charles’s relationship had been strained for thirty years. According to her, Lore broke up with Charles before he left for UBC.”
“Lore?” Dorathea looked confused. “But why would she allow James to believe Charles broke her heart all those years ago?”
Sloane stacked the grilled chicken and vegetables on the tray. “It was easier than admitting she got drunk and slept with another guy.”
Ooh. Do elaborate , Elvina said.
“Lore’s sex life is not important right now, dear.” Dorathea turned to Sloane. “What does that mean for our case?”
“I’m not sure. But if no one else knows the truth, then nothing changes. But then it begs new questions. Why would Charles stay in a relationship, whatever it is, with her all these years? Have they conspired to destroy the West Coven for years? Is that what keeps them together?”
Dorathea considered her answers, then sighed. “I am unsure. But I doubt either of them could have discovered us.”
“All right. But I’m going to search for the truth about their relationship anyway. If you’re right, you can say I told you so.”
“Very well,” Dorathea said. “When I met with the Grand Coven today, I returned with my own information. Our sensors do not detect a Nogical possession in the village or surrounding area.”
Sloane placed the food on the table. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means someone in Denwick is not who they say they are.”
Elvina’s pupils disappeared into thin black slits. Other Magicals?
Sloane thought about Jane’s research. The graveyard and the crypt. The deep family roots in the village. They needed to use a spell to detect the old families.
Dorathea placed a kabob on her plate and one on Elvina’s. “Unfortunately, they did not give me permission to detect—”
“Are you reading my mind?” Sloane interrupted, slamming down the wine bottle. “I was just thinking about that.”
Dorathea furrowed her brow. “Are you daft? I am not telepathic and would not cast such a spell indiscriminately even if I wanted to.” She narrowed her eyes. “I told you I would seek permission to detect our suspects.”
Sloane took a long drink to temper her anger. “Yeah, well, excuse me if I’m cynical. Every time she needed to calm me down, Jane stole into my head. But I didn’t know that then, did I? She lied. About herself. Me. You.”
Sounds like she kept a secret, rather than lying, dear.
Sloane glared at the familiar. “They’re the same damn thing.”
“You are both wrong,” Dorathea said. “What your mum did to you was unconscionable. And what Jane asked Elvina to do was unfair. She had secrets. And they turned into lies when they caused her and others to suffer.” She placed her fork on her plate. “Perhaps during your investigation, you will discover your mother’s truth, or maybe you will never know. Regardless, it is time to forgive your mum.”