Binding the Shadows
Page 40

 Jenn Bennett

  • Background:
  • Text Font:
  • Text Size:
  • Line Height:
  • Line Break Height:
  • Frame:
“King Solomon supposedly had a ring that allowed him to control demons and talk to animals. Whoever made this seems to have adapted it for use on Earthbounds.”
“That’s why I couldn’t hear your emotions when Yvonne showed up,” Lon said.
“When I saw her walk onto the patio, I grabbed the ring from my purse. It only works if it’s touching your skin. That’s what the witch told me, anyway.”
Lon was astonished. “Damn, Rose. Do you know how many hours I’ve spent thumbing through old grimoires trying to find something that would do this?”
“Believe me, I wish I’d had it years ago. More than that, I wish I knew someone who could just get rid of her knack once and for all.” She slid a sly glance my way. “Do I know someone who could?”
“Me? Christ, I don’t know. I’ve never seen a spell that could do that. Plus she’s got—” I gave Lon a questioning look. He told me that, like the Holidays, they knew about the transmutation spell. Yvonne was fond of showing off, apparently.
“She’s got magick in her already,” Lon finished for me.
Magick I never wanted to experience. Her regular knack was powerful enough.
“That would have to be reversed first, I think, and . . .” My words trailed off as I thought about it. Could I? If I could slow time, then maybe I could do this, too. But so much could go wrong. It was like performing a surgery you’ve never done before. Or that’s what I imagined, anyway. Besides, there was no way Yvonne would ever agree to such a thing, so what was the point of thinking about it?
“Just a thought,” Rose said.
I handed the ring back.
“What I’m dying to know is what you heard,” Adella said to Lon. “Spill it. Was she lying about any of it?”
Lon glanced around at all of us. My nerves were jumping, buzzing with dread.
“She was sincere.”
Godammit. I knew it was selfish, but my heart still dropped.
Lon’s fingers grazed the back of my neck. “Being sincere in a moment doesn’t mean lasting change.”
“He’s right about that,” Adella murmured.
Rose sighed. “I’m going to the hotel to talk to her.”
“Mama—”
“I want to know what her plan is. I’m not going to let her spoil Christmas for Jupe.”
“I thought you expected me do that,” I joked lamely. A second after it was out of my mouth, I wondered if it was too soon. But she waved her hand dismissively, almost as if she was embarrassed.
Adella hoisted her purse higher up on her shoulder. “Here’s the difference. If Yvonne shows up for Christmas, there’s a good chance she’ll put everyone in a foul mood. And apparently the only way you could do that is by not showing up, because all Jupe did today was whine that you weren’t with us.”
Ah, crap. I was getting verklempt again. It was like some sort of sensitive housewife had taken over my body and was sitting around watching Lifetime movies and Hallmark commercials.
“So you’re stuck with us now,” Rose said. “Which means that Yvonne is your problem as much as she is ours. Be prepared to play defense if she’s planning on showing up Christmas Day. Legally, she has the right. But I’ve got this ring now, which means for once in my life, I’ve got the upper hand, and I plan on using it. You with us?”
The three of them looked at me expectantly, as if it was the most serious request in the world. As if they were asking me to get a pitchfork and join them in pursuit of the village monster. And at that point, to be honest, they probably could’ve asked me to murder Mother Teresa.
I gave Rose a decisive chin nod. “I’m your girl.”
• • •
I briefly worried that Lon would want to go along to talk with Yvonne, too. But when Adella relented to drive her mother—“I’ll wait in the parking lot while you talk to her,” Adella told Rose—he didn’t even act as if he’d considered it. I asked him if he was okay. He took a moment to answer, but when he said he was, I believed him.
So while Adella drove off with Rose to the Village to talk with Yvonne at her hotel, the Holidays walked back to their cabin. And after I changed into a less salacious outfit, a T-shirt and yoga pants—which had never undergone a single minute of yoga, just for the record—Lon and I made our way across the driveway.
Connected to the main house, Lon’s three-car garage would make a perfectly nice studio apartment, with polished floors and central air and a couch salvaged from his parents’ place. I’d napped on that couch once, and I have to say it was way more comfortable than Kar Yee’s. It was also where we found Jupe, sitting cross-legged as he squinted at a book of Pontiac engine diagrams. An old TV sat upon a workbench to one side, tuned to a channel that was showing The Nightmare Before Christmas. This was Jupe’s little home-away-from-home, as he’d claimed the first empty bay as a hangout area, and his rusted-out ’67 GTO sat on blocks in the second bay. The bay at the far end housed Lon’s silver Audi sports coupe, rarely driven.
“Whatcha doin’?” I asked, plopping down on one side of him.
“I can’t figure out what this is.” He held up a rusted metal disk to Lon. “I found it under the car, like it had fallen off of something.”
Lon inspected it for a few moments. “I think it’s part of the A/C. Four hoses fit inside those holes to draw in fresh air.”