“They must think you’re valuable, or you wouldn’t have been granted a spot.”
“They probably just needed to fill the space and I was the only one who wanted it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She opened another drawer and grabbed out a bra.
“Would you stop?” I snatched it.
She pursed her lips at me before turning for the door. “I’ll call you later and check on you. Remember your lunch. You forgot it yesterday. And I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear anything about New Orleans,” she said as she walked out. “That place is a booze-filled insane asylum. No daughter of mine will be caught dead in a place like that.” She shut my door behind her as guilt heated my face.
Miracle of miracles, she hadn’t found out about New Orleans. She’d happily accepted my cover story about Oregon and hadn’t bothered to look into it. It was the only bit of luck I’d ever been granted.
I sagged against my dresser, replaying the night before for the umpteenth time. And I didn’t dwell on the negative parts, either. I mostly slid right past the magical deaths and the whole “running over dead men” thing. Instead, my brain kept turning over the magic I’d seen, trying to parse each spell’s intention and the way it was woven together. I compared those various weaves to the one I’d seen crawling out of the cauldron, trying to determine if any of the components matched.
I headed to the shower, going over it all again. And then again, until I had all of the different strands stored in my memory. It wasn’t until I was sitting in my car with my still-wet purse and packed lunch that I snapped back to reality.
What the heck was I doing?
There was no way I was going to work. The stranger clearly had no qualms about killing people, and he must’ve meant the thing in the street as a threat. People didn’t play chicken with unhinged ladies and oncoming cars if they didn’t mean some sort of harm. Had he managed to lob that spell at me, I probably wouldn’t be sitting here right now. Surely he’d show up for round two.
Then again, that street had been completely bare. He’d somehow sectioned it off and cleared it out. He must’ve wanted to protect innocent bystanders from the magical standoff he knew was coming. Because that barrier had definitely been his magic. It was too finely done to be the others’ work.
But even a compassionate outlaw wouldn’t want a witness.
By that reasoning, spending all day around people would be my best bet. Certainly the safest. He’d have to go on a huge killing spree to get rid of everyone.
There was also the license plate situation. I’d driven right at him and then away from him. He’d had plenty of opportunity to burn those digits into his head. I didn’t know how one went about finding the address of a car’s registration, but in today’s age of technology, it probably wouldn’t be horribly difficult.
Yeah, work might actually be the best bet.
A hard rap sounded on the window.
I jumped and clutched the gear shift. I really needed to work on my reactions. Running someone over with a parked car was not feasible.
My mother leaned down to the window. “Get going, young lady.”
“Get out of the road, Ma. You’re in your bathrobe, for heaven’s sake.”
My mother straightened up and jammed her fists onto her hips. “I will walk out into my front yard in whatever I want. If Mr. Timmons wants to complain, he can do so to deaf ears.”
Mr. Timmons would complain, all right. To his son. Who would then make sure he told me just how embarrassing my mother was. It was a regular song and dance.
“I’m going, I’m going,” I said, starting the car.
“Have a great day.” She stood a step farther into the street to see me off.
“Get out of the street,” I yelled at her, stepping on the gas.
She stayed right where she was and waved at me, holding up a car coming down the street.
“Is it any wonder I turned out the way I did, with that woman as my genetic dispensary?” I muttered, heading toward the medieval village.
Twenty minutes later, I held my breath as I passed the scene of the magical battle the night before. I needn’t have bothered. The street had returned to business as usual. The stores were open, cars were running along, and there was nary a dead body to be seen.
The stranger had done a good job of cleaning everything up. I didn’t even see my tire marks burned onto the asphalt.
Then again…I didn’t remember slamming on the brakes. In fact, I was pretty certain my foot hadn’t left the gas, even after hopping the curb.
My eyes never stopped moving as I made my way to my station along the dirt lane. A couple of others were already setting up in their spots. They spared me a glance and a nod, but no one paid me an unusual amount of attention. Nothing peeked out of the lush foliage along the sides, and no one was lying in wait for me when I reached my destination. I let out a sigh of relief and went about setting up.
The day passed in a slow grind of anxiety and jumpiness. I stared at each new face I saw, expecting the stranger and dreading him at the same time. I looked harder at Geraldine, wanting to ask her if she’d noticed anything special about the stranger. But I didn’t do it. I wasn’t sure why, just that I didn’t want to call attention to the situation. I’d run over someone, for goodness’ sake. I didn’t want to paint myself into the scene if I didn’t have to.
At quitting time, I was shaking from the stress of the day, but he hadn’t come. I hadn’t so much as felt anyone lurking.
The rain had picked up by the time I got home, going from sifting lazily to falling with purpose. I parked next to the curb and sat for a moment, getting my bearings before going in and facing my mother. The woman was draining, at best, and I was already operating on fumes.
I really needed to move out. I was much too old to be hovered over by my parent. Heck, I’d been too old at sixteen.
Groaning, I grabbed the handle to get out. A large shape loomed in my window.
A shock of fear sizzled through my body. “No!” Reactions still terrible, I slapped the window.
A girlish scream preceded Veronica jumping back from the car. She took off, sprinting for my front door.
It wasn’t like her to take off because I’d gotten a fright and slapped the window (usually she’d laugh heartily at my clumsiness), so I immediately went on red alert. I cranked the key in the ignition and clutched my gear shift. I didn’t know how to fight, but I clearly knew how to run people over. If that mage had spooked my friend, I was ready with rubber and steel.
The soft patter of raindrops fell against my windshield. A woman with an umbrella passed by on the opposite sidewalk, looking between my car and Veronica on my porch, as she walked her dog. Her little mutt, wearing a bright yellow raincoat, trotted along miserably.
My chest heaved as I waited for something to happen. A zip of a spell or the roar of Death thundering toward me.
Apparently my imagination thought Death rode a Harley.
“What are you doing on my porch like a wet poodle?” I heard, a voice that would have Death turning his hog around and heading back the other way. “Penelope! Get out of that car. Are you trying to cause global warming all by yourself? Get in here. I have a roast in for dinner.”
The breath exited my lungs in a whoosh. Just like that, the spell was broken. The sense of caution that had pressed on me lightened, until I was looking out at my peaceful neighborhood, no more dangerous than it had been yesterday.
I climbed from my car and was immediately pelted by cold drops. I ducked back in for my purse before locking up and jogging to the porch. My mother stood there with a scowl and fisted hands jammed into her hips, her default look. Veronica stood next to her with a confused and troubled expression.
“Did you eat your lunch?” my mother asked, not letting me by.
“Yes,” I murmured.
A smile worked onto Veronica’s face. She thought my mother’s antics were hilarious. That was because she had normal, well-adjusted parents who didn’t think their daughter should wear bubble wrap.
“Good. Now…” My mother’s focus switched to something over my shoulder. Her hand darted out and grabbed me, shoving me behind her. “I’ll handle this.”