Enchantment Emporium

Auntie Muriel snorted but kept her attention on her knitting. Rumor said Auntie Muriel had been quite the traveler in her youth although, as she had most definitely not gone wild, the traveling in question probably had more to do with planes, trains, and automobiles rather than metaphysical pathways with no actual form.

As Charlie tensed up to respond, Allie wrapped one hand around her arm, anchoring her in place, and pointed out the big front windows with the other. “Look!” she said, loudly. “David’s home!” She had the uncomfortable feeling that Auntie Jane’s eyes literally lit up. Auntie Muriel, her knitting tossed aside to spill in a multicolored tangle off the big leather ottoman, led the charge out of the house. “They’ll never admit you know something they don’t.” She pulled Charlie up against her as they watched the aunties part the sea of younger cousins crowded around David’s car. Gale girls, regardless of age, were attracted to power. “Sooner or later, they’ll send someone to check it out.”

“And then claim omnipotence in family matters.”

“Do you care?”

“Yes. No.” Charlie sighed and pushed a fold into the worn rug with the scuffed toe of her boot. “Probably not. They just get up my ass sometimes, you know?”

“They do it on purpose.”

“Well, duh. You going out to see David?”

Watching her brother lift five-year-old Callie up onto one shoulder, Allie grinned and shook her head. “Not this close to May Day; he’s already showing horn.” Even for her, the pull was nearly irresistible. “You go ahead, though.”

“Tomorrow’s soon enough for that.” Charlie bent to pick up her guitar case, paused, and frowned at the spill of yarn. “What the hell is Auntie Muriel knitting?”

“I have no idea.” Allie shuffled a little farther away from the ottoman. “I was afraid to ask in case she offered it to me.”

Every now and then, one of the dimmer bulbs from Darsden East or the surrounding county tried to discover just what exactly went on in the Grove. These days, the family was large enough that David—too powerful for any circle but the first—and those who, for one reason or another, preferred to opt out of the ritual entirely, made up a fourth circle of protection for the other three.

In the old days, the aunties dealt with it.

Auntie Ruby swore her dahlias hadn’t been the same since they stopped.

Stepping into the Grove, Allie nudged Charlie with her hip and nodded across at Dmitri, already dealing with both Marie and either Carrie or Ashley. Without clothing it was almost impossible to tell Charlie’s twin sisters apart.

“Boy needs to pace himself,” Charlie snickered. “It’s going to be a long day.”

Dusk had painted shadows where shadows weren’t, trying to fool the eye, but experience and training helped him separate the real from the imagined. In his job, the difference, when there actually was one, could be crucial.

Although he knew the glyphs he wore offered more protection from discovery than camouflage and the dubious shelter of a bush ever could, he pushed himself a little more firmly against the ground when he heard the distinctive sound of his targets arriving. Camouflage and a bush provided a physical comfort the glyphs did not and death would be the best he could hope for if his targets spotted him.

Elbows making a tripod with his body, he peered through the scope, the sigils carved into the metal allowing him to see true forms. He had to admit, the horns were impressive.

His employer had been adamant that this was a recon mission, nothing more, but he couldn’t stop himself from lining up a perfect shot.

Finger curled loosely around the trigger, he whispered, “Bang.”

One moment Allie was sound asleep, the next she was staring through the curtain of her hair at a water stain on the ceiling and wondering who’d called her. Charlie remained asleep beside her, one arm thrown up over her head, blue hair fanned out against the pale skin. Next to Charlie, Katie frowned, eyes twitching behind her lids as she dreamed.

Easing out of bed so as not to wake them, Allie headed for the window, picking a careful path around the half dozen girl cousins, Samson, and a strange cat who’d crashed out on mattresses on her floor after the ritual had ended. The sun was up, but only just. Given that he’d no doubt spent most of yesterday being chased around by members of the family too young to go to the Grove, Mozart, the rooster, was probably still asleep in the henhouse, allowing the sun to rise without him. One of the barn cats walked purposefully along the rail fence by the lane. Across the south pasture, at the edge of the woods, a stag lifted his head to test the breeze.

That explained it.

On her way to the door, Allie grabbed a pair of jeans she thought were hers and a McGill sweatshirt that had to belong to Holly. Samson watched her go, one ear up, but didn’t follow.