The phone only rang once before it was answered by an extremely cheerful sounding man whose day I was about to absolutely ruin. “Emerald City Auction House, Ethan speaking, how can I help you?”

  “Hello, Ethan.” My voice was a low purr that Lorcan would have recognized as a sign to duck for cover. “My name is Wanda. I purchased something from your auction house a few days ago; a length of beautiful white silk.”

  “Oh. Yes.” His voice stayed polite but became more distant. “Claudia left a note on the file. She said you’d had some questions about provenance. I’m terribly sorry we couldn’t help you.”

  Questions about provenance, my flawless backside. I could just bet what notes that ninny had left about me.

  I smiled, wide enough that I knew Ethan would be able to hear it. “Oh, I understand. Record keeping regarding the objects you sell isn’t something you take seriously. It’s a shame, but what can you do?”

  Ethan sputtered, trying to protest, but I just sailed on past him. “Before we get into the reason I’m calling, Ethan, let me ask you this: if I told you I live in Haven Hollow, would that mean anything to you?”

  There was a little hitch in his breath, and my smile turned predatory.

  “Yes,” he said quietly. “It does.” Okay, that was good. I’d already figured that chances were he wasn’t a human if he was employed at the auction house and now that hunch was pretty much cemented.

  “Wonderful. So, when I tell you that I’m the High Witch of the local coven here, and that your employer sold me a cursed item without warning me or supplying any kind of information at all about said item, then you have some idea of what a poor decision that would be, wouldn’t you?”

  Yes, I’d admitted to being a High Witch when I was really supposed to be a vampire, but I didn’t think poor Ethan would know better than to bring it up to someone who might know better. As far as I was concerned, he needed to know I was a High Witch and that I had magical backup. And I was fairly sure nothing would go further than this conversation. I hoped so anyway.

  “A cursed item?” Ethan’s voice was muffled for a second, like he was mopping at his face and the cloth brushed the receiver. “But we never… that it to say… we haven’t–”

  “But you did, Ethan. With no warning. Marked as something benign.” All the cheer leaked out of my voice, and I let him hear just how angry I was. “There was a time when something like this would be considered an act of war by the covens. That’s not what you want, is it, Ethan?”

  “No! No, of course not. We didn’t… I…”

  I didn’t like bullying people. Well, maybe I did a little, but not people who weren’t in charge and hadn’t really done anything to me. And Ethan sounded about half a breath away from quitting. Or crying, maybe. And I wasn’t on the line for an apology or anything like that. I just needed to know what I was dealing with. And if I had to make an underpaid and overstressed employee cry in order to keep people alive, well, that was my burden to bear.

  I had to call his name twice to get his attention, and his breathing was still heavy enough that I had to raise my voice just a little to be sure he could actually hear me. “Ethan, I need you to find out whatever you can about that silk. Anything. The smallest bit of information could help me.”

  “Help you?” he asked, sounding baffled. “Of course! Just… I’ll be right back.”

  From the sound of the clunk of the phone being put down, the poor boy hadn’t even put me on hold or anything. He’d just dropped the receiver and run off. My fingers were crossed that he hadn’t just quit and fled the building, because then I’d have to call back and do this whole song and dance again. And my night wasn’t getting any younger.

  The minutes dragged on by, intolerably slowly. I started to take personal offence to every tick of the clock that was hanging on the wall. I had to start seriously considering that Ethan had just run off into the night, never to come back again, when the phone was finally snatched up once more, signified by the sound of heavy breathing.

  Ethan continued to pant into the phone, each breath sending a jolt of static across the line. I winced, holding the receiver away from my face, trying to preserve my sensitive ears.

  “Miss?” he gasped, sounding like he’d just run a marathon. “Are you still there?”

  “Of course I am, Ethan. Did you find something for me?”

  Keeping my voice steady was a struggle. Nerves collided with eagerness in my stomach and made a very uneasy cocktail. I was as eager to hear what he might have found as I was worried it would be nothing.

  “I really am sorry, Miss,” he said, voice trembling. “There isn’t very much to go on, Claudia told the truth there. But I did find something… tucked away in the file. It’s some sort of letter that came with the silk when it was originally shipped.”

  From crushing despair, right back up to hope. The entire conversation was like riding a roller coaster. “What? What is it?” The phone creaked, and I loosened my grip. I didn’t always know my own strength anymore.

  Ethan cleared his throat, but that didn’t hide the tremble when he spoke. “It, um, it’s just a note, Miss. It just says that the silk was originally from Japan.”

  “Japan?”

  “Yeah, that’s what it says—from a town near the south-west coast of the island, and that it was woven just shy of two centuries ago. There isn’t anything more that I can see. I’m sorry and, um, I hope… well, I hope that helps you.”

  Japan. Like that narrowed it down at all. It was a whole country, one I didn’t know very much about, other than the fact that it had a rich supernatural community. Why even include a note with the silk when it didn’t give any real information?

  Maybe there was still something. “Was the note written by the people who sold the silk to you?”

  “Um, no, ma’am—from what I can tell, the writing and the letter are pretty old—the cursive is kind of faded and the paper is all creased and yellowed with age. And it’s not in English, but Kanji which is the oldest of the Japanese languages.”

  Hmm, apparently the auction house did a good job of training their people on the specifics of each item. Interesting that no one had mentioned the origins of the silk when they’d auctioned it. I had to imagine that was on purpose.

  “If it’s written in Kanji, then how do you know what it says?”

  “Oh, there’s another note with a translation. And that note looks a little more recent.”

  “Hmm, interesting.”

  “So, I’m thinking the note was probably passed down along with the silk—maybe through the family that sold it to us? But like I said, they or someone translated the original note for us, though, so there’s that.”

  “So you still have the original note? The one that was written in Kanji?”

  “Uh, yes ma’am.”

  “Good, very good.”

  “Why? Can you read Japanese?”

  No.

  “Yes,” I lied, crossing my fingers. “Ethan, I need you to send me the original note. I don’t care how, but I need it right now. The translation, too. Overnight it to me if you have to, just get it here.”

  “Wait,” Ethan stammered. “I can’t do that. I mean, I just–”

  Witches had always been associated with cats by humans throughout history. Sometimes snakes, or owls, but cats tended to be the stereotype, which I always found hilarious. If I had to pick an animal that represented the witches I’d grown up with in the coven, I would have chosen the shark. Always moving, always prowling, hunting for more power, a higher position, more status. Never still, never resting, but always dangerous.

  It wasn’t what I wanted for Circle Scapegrace, but that didn’t mean that my upbringing didn’t impart some benefits. Because, listening to Ethan stutter and stammer, I smelled blood in the water. With an eager smile, I moved in for the kill.

  “The note is regarding my property, isn’t it, Ethan?”

  “Well, I guess so.”

  “So, doesn’t that mean that the note also belongs to me since I purchased the lot?”

  “Um…”

  “And why would your employers keep something that pertains to something I purchased? That doesn’t seem to make very much sense, does it, Ethan?”

  I heard defeat in the following silence.

  “I’ll have a courier bring the notes to you, ma’am. Of course, you have every right to them both. I only hope you find the information you’re looking for.”

  “I hope so, too,” I muttered after a few more insincere pleasantries.

  Maybe it was nothing. Honestly, with the way my luck had been going, the note was probably cursed, too.

  But there was just something nagging at the back of my head. The note had been sent with the silk—the silk had been passed down with the note, as far as I had pieced together. The sellers had included it, probably as some kind of record or proof of origin, but there wasn’t really anything to it, unless there was and I just wasn’t getting it yet? Right—I had to see the original note and see if it opened any other doors.

  All I did know was that there had been something terrible trapped in the silk, woven into it, bound and locked away. And that something had gone unrevealed, until a bit of Blood Magic got into the mix. So, what if there was also something hidden in the note? Something waiting to be revealed by a touch of magic? I mean, who went to all the trouble of binding an entity, and then didn’t bother leaving instructions regarding how to take care of it? Step one: don’t sell the silk or let it fall into some stranger’s hands who happens to have blood magic and scissors.

  I just had to be patient a little longer. I did believe that Ethan would send the notes to me as quickly as possible. He’d sounded scared spitless on the phone, and apparently knew enough about witches and their ability to hold grudges well enough to know that his reaction was appropriate.

  With a little bit of luck, I’d actually have some answers soon.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dragging myself into work was the last thing I wanted to do, but it was either that or pacing the house and trying not to climb the walls.

  Poppy wasn’t feeling well still, so her texts were sporadic. I kept glancing up and out the window, and seeing Poppy’s Potions closed and dark was like getting smacked in the face every time.

  Lorcan was, if anything, texting too much. I didn’t know what was going on with him, but as soon as this whole curse business was wrapped up, I was going to get to the bottom of that, even if I had to sit on him to make him talk to me.

  I wasn’t about to try and wrangle the Black Cat Cocktail Club without Poppy, and Taliyah was all tied up in the same mess I was, so it would have just been me, Darla, Fifi, and maybe Bailey if we could wrangle her away from her new beau. But I also knew I was too on edge for all that socialization without Poppy there to act like a buffer and keep everyone from getting all maudlin.

  So, work. And I was lucky that it was busy enough to keep my thoughts from going in circles chasing their tail too much.

  I’d just packed off a man who’d purchased a suit for a job interview the next day, enchanted for a bit of self-confidence and to ward against nervousness, when the bell over the door chimed again and a young woman stepped inside with a beaming smile.

  She looked cheerful enough to remind me a bit of a younger Poppy, and my edges softened a little, turning my customer service smile into a real one.

  “Hi,” she said, looking around eagerly. “I was hoping to find a dress for my engagement party? Nothing too elaborate. Just pretty, and a little elegant?”

  I was definitely getting soft. Normally someone ending every sentence like it was a question would have driven me up the wall. Instead, I came around in front of the counter, already mentally flipping through my inventory. “Did you have something specific in mind?”

  “Not really,” she said, apologetic. “I’m not really one for fancy parties.”

  “But an engagement party is pretty fancy?”

  She nodded. “Right. I was happy with the little get together we threw at the Half-Moon, but my fiancé’s parents—well, they want to throw something for their whole side of the family and they’re into everything—well, over the top.”

  I tapped a finger to my lips, thinking. “I can pick out some things for you to try on that I think might work for you.”

  Her smile lit up her whole face. “Yes, please, that would be perfect.”

  There was nothing quite so engaging as getting the chance to play doll with living people. Especially when they gave me free rein to really make them feel their best. That was what clothing was supposed to be. It could be an invitation, a threat, a way to seduce or intimidate, but ultimately, clothes should make the wearers feel good about themselves, and present themselves the way they wanted to be seen.

  I lost myself in the racks for a while, checking and double-checking colors, cuts, necklines. My customer had a similar complexion to Imani, so nothing too pastel, or it would just look washed out against her dark skin. Also, maybe nothing too revealing, since it was her would be in-law’s party. Humans could be silly about those things.

  I found a few selections, and she smiled to see them. But then I whipped my ultimate choice from behind my back, and she actually gasped, eyes shining bright. A halter top with a high waist that draped to just below the knee, but moved with the wearer when they walked, and in one of the prettiest shades of rose pink I’d ever seen. Not too heavy for the weather, elegant, clean lines, and Maverick had even done a bit of embroidery down one side of the skirt, for easing stress in social situations as well as an extra potion for luck.

  I bundled the girl off to try them all on, telling her I could make alterations to her choice, but I was almost one hundred percent certain she’d go for the pink dress. The lilac or the lemon yellow would also look amazing on her, but she cradled my favorite to her chest like a baby as she walked into the dressing room.

  I gave myself a little mental high-five.

  I still had it.

  When she came out in the dress I’d chosen and actually teared up with happiness at the sight of herself in the mirror, I was ridiculously smug. She looked like a million dollars, and with a few stitches here or there, a tuck or a dart, she’d look like a billion.

  She hadn’t brought any shoes along with her, but with the tea length of the dress, that wasn’t a big deal. I got her up onto the stage so I could put a few pins in while she chatted eagerly away about her fiancé, about their plans, how long they’d known each other. Honestly, it mostly went in one ear and out the other. All my focus was on the fabric under my hands, and making it work for me.

  I was jolted back to reality when someone wrenched my store’s door open so hard that the bell slapped against the ceiling, and another young woman came storming in. This one a red-head, and between her body language and her expression, I knew we were in for some trouble as she marched towards my bride-to-be client.

  Witches almost always have black hair, but every once in a while, a red-head will crop up, like Betanya or my cousin, Astrid. A red-headed witch is always going to be one to stir things up in a coven—they were meant for big things. But even if this girl was a redhead, she wasn’t a witch, but even so—seeing her storming in had me standing up and putting myself between her and my client.

  I didn’t want the dress to get damaged, after all.

  “Oh, hey Miranda, what are you… what’s wrong?” My bride client’s smile faded, worry taking over her features.

  “What’s wrong? What’s wrong? I can’t believe you, Sadie! I can’t believe you’re getting married.” A vein pulsed in Miranda’s forehead, her face an alarming shade of red.

  Sadie stammered, wide eyed. She clutched the dress to herself, like that would protect her. “I... I mean, is it that big of a surprise?”

  Miranda scowled, her face twisted with some ugly emotion. “It had nothing to do with surprises! And everything to do with the fact that it’s totally unfair! Why do you have everything, and I have nothing?”

  With something that came as close to a roar as the human throat could make, Miranda threw herself towards Sadie, who screamed and backpedaled, trying to stay out of range. I reached out with one hand, and hit Miranda with a sleeping hex before she came close. The red-headed woman collapsed to the floor in a pile of loose limbs, just like that.

  Sadie stared down at her friend, clutching at the dress’s skirt, her chest heaving with her panicked breaths. “What… what just happened?”

  “Your friend is having some kind of fit that’s causing her to act out,” I answered, pretending like I hadn’t just hit her with a spell. As far as Sadie was concerned, all that had happened was that I’d put my hand out and then her friend had dropped to the ground. But that didn’t mean I’d done anything to her. “I need you to go back to the dressing room and call for an ambulance, please. My phone is out of batteries.” I mean, I had hit her with a pretty strong hex, so it was a good idea for a doc to look her over.

  “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh.” Sadie nodded so quickly that she looked like a bobble head doll. “I can do that. Yes. Okay. Is she going to be alright?”

  It was a struggle to keep my voice calm and soothing. I could have really used Poppy’s backup again, but I’d make do. “She’ll be fine, but she needs to go to the hospital just to make sure.”

  “Okay, I can do that. Okay.” She hiked up the skirts of the rose dress and all but ran back towards the dressing rooms.

  With any luck, it would take her a minute to get dressed, and she wouldn’t do too much damage to my dress before she managed to get herself out of it. I was going to need a bit of time with Miranda without a panicking, mundane girl standing over my shoulder.

  Because Miranda, as it turned out, was wrapped up tight with dozens and dozens of sticky, clinging, curse strands. She wasn’t quite as bad as the two men from last night had been, but from the way she’d absolutely thrown herself at her supposed ‘friend’ told me that Miranda was heading in that direction, and fast. It looked like envy was also on the memo for our mystery creepy crawler to feast on. I was surprised Miranda hadn’t come through my door absolutely emerald green after that display.