It figured that, while I was distracted, I had managed to get up an entire corner. But now that I was focused on the job, I shredded a chunk of the topmost label.

  “Know any spells that can dissolve adhesive?” Clay stuck his head in the room. “That would be fastest.”

  “Hmm.” I ran my fingers over the visible layer then pushed magic into the paper. “Good question.”

  As the spell erased every scrap of information on both labels, I decided the answer had been no.

  Thermal labels didn’t play well with the contact heat in magic, but it had been worth a shot.

  “Leave the box.” Marita wedged herself in beside Asa. “It smells like rocks and dust.”

  “Come to papa.” Derry, who shoved in too, reached for the lunchbox. “Hello, there.”

  “Should you eat food left at a potential crime scene?”

  The wargs looked at Asa like he had sprouted a second head then returned their attention to the bag.

  “A black witch touched this.” Marita toyed with the zipper. “But it wasn’t Nan.”

  Since the cashier was human, it wasn’t her either. Or the owner. So who else had been here?

  “Hands off.” Clay bulldozed into the couple, snatching the bag. “Rue, set a circle.”

  Without missing a beat, Colby climbed out of his pocket and zipped to Asa’s shoulder.

  “Good idea.” I had been about to suggest the same thing, except for the part where I planned to seal myself in rather than him. “Guys, can you clear the room?”

  The space was easily three times the size of my own storeroom, but Clay was a lot of golem.

  Once I had elbow room, I retrieved a vial of salt from my kit and sprinkled a light circle around Clay. He held still, waiting on me to kneel and offer my blood to power the protective ward around him.

  “Here goes nothing.” He unzipped the bag and looked inside. “Herbs.”

  “Maybe the cashier is vegan?”

  “Not a chance.” He pulled out dusky purple-green leaves on woody stems. “Do you know what this is?”

  “Based on your expression, nothing good.”

  “More fanutculaceae.” He shoved the clippings back in the bag. “Which is a mouthful and probably why folks call it king killer for short.”

  With the poison secure, Clay set the bag on the floor then scuffed the circle to escape it.

  “Help me to the bathroom.” He lifted his hands. “I don’t want to touch anything.”

  “Everyone, stay back.” I guided Clay to the restroom, turned on the faucet, and pumped soap into his hands. “Asa?” I slipped out to let Clay get scrubbing. “How bad is direct contact?”

  “Every part of it is poisonous.” His mouth set in a frown. “Stems, leaves, sap, flowers.”

  Lucky for us, Clay was immune to such concerns. The rest of us? Not so much.

  “Derry?” I peered around Asa. “Can you find Clay something to wear?”

  Anything that came in contact with the plant would be ash soon.

  “This is going to take longer than we’ve got.” Clay removed his clothes until he stood in his undershirt and boxers. “We’ve got like five minutes left max.”

  “Better to make more excuses than rush this.” I leaned into Asa’s knowledge. “How do we contain it?”

  “Take photos, video, and a small sample for processing.” He gestured toward the bag. “Burn the rest.”

  “Gloves?” I was terrible about carrying them, but Asa always came prepared. “I have a vial in my kit.”

  With great care, I began documenting the scene then handed the phone to Asa to record me collecting a sample. Given the lethal nature of the plant, I also let him film me tap into my power and reduce the remnants to ash I swept up and flushed down the toilet.

  All I needed was to add another layer to the director’s paranoia by letting him fret I kept a dose with his name on it. Which, now that I thought about it, wasn’t the worst idea I had ever had.

  As I finished cleaning up, Derry jogged in with a bag in hand that he hooked on the bathroom doorknob.

  Using his undershirt, which Asa declared safe, Clay dried off from his quick wash.

  “Are you sure you shouldn’t trash the wig too?” I kept my expression bland. “Just in case?”

  “I’m not losing another child to this case.” He puffed up worse than Colby. “The wig stays.”

  Chuckling under my breath, I burst into full belly laughs when I saw what Derry bought him.

  A black tee with a cartoon drawing of the night sky above the Jonathan Corwin House, aka the Witch House. The moon in all its phases arced above it, and bubbly letters read It’s Just A Phase beneath it. A pair of black athletic shorts with dancing skeletons and flip-flops with finger bone straps rounded out the ensemble.

  A tittering laugh betrayed Colby’s amusement as she got an eyeful of his outfit.

  “I expected better from you, Shorty.” He sniffed and shut the door. “Lucky for you all, I make anything look good.”

  “Did you guys know that children’s Halloween movie was filmed here? The one with the kids and the black flame candle?” Derry stuck his hands in his pockets. “He’s lucky I didn’t buy him the purple tracksuit with three floating witch hairstyles.”

  Disembodied hair sounded a lot like a wig to me, so Clay probably would have loved it.

  “Oh.” Colby’s eyes brightened. “I saw that one.” She caught my side-eye and huffed. “It’s a children’s movie.”

  Camber and Arden had a thing for horror flicks, so I had been subjected to more than my fair share of them. I didn’t remember one I would call kid friendly out of the bunch, but maybe Colby did a group watch with her gamer friends. They were all roughly the same age, with the same PG-rating limit, so I didn’t police those as much.

  “I emailed the Kellies the footage for the database.” Asa handed me back my phone. “We don’t want to waste time in reporting a find like this one, or assuring the director we destroyed it.”

  Drugs, artifacts, and valuables had a bad habit of disappearing on cases worked by Black Hat agents. Items related to the case at hand had a better chance of sticking around, but anything else was up for grabs.

  Hence my vast collection of dangerous artifacts I had lifted during previous jobs to add to my hoard. And that wasn’t the worst part. I had been given the green light to eat the hearts of powerful creatures who would have otherwise been put down for their crimes.

  Framed that way, I hadn’t been guilty of murder. Simply an execution. Sanctioned by my job.

  But that was the coward’s way out, and I knew better now.

  Hauling myself out of that black hole of past regrets, I focused on what Asa was telling me.

  “What do we do with the sample?” I slid it into my kit. “Hand it over to the Kellies or the cleaners?”

  “The cleaners will hold on to the tissue samples until the case is closed.”

  Meaning they could compare what we gave them against what the black witches took.

  “Cleaners it is then.” I dialed them, grateful for an excuse to dump the bracelet bin boo-boo into their laps as well. They could make the display look new again. All I could do was make the rest of the store match. “This is Agent Rue Hollis.”

  The rundown didn’t take long, and given the area, their response time was nearly instant.

  A cleaner dressed in a pristine white pantsuit entered the store within minutes of the cashier’s return. She took one look at Asa, recognized the fae in him, and launched into an interrogation of our findings.

  “That’s an unwise fashion choice,” Marita murmured from next to me.

  “It’s glamour.” I watched the cleaner handle the cashier with the ease of long practice in subduing humans. “They wear these hazmat suit things to protect against bodily fluids and magical residue.” I cut her a look. “You’ve seen those, right?” She nodded. “For some reason, probably the spelled fabric, they can’t glamour the suits away entirely. Whatever outfit they choose to appear in, it’s solid white.”

  Colors varied somewhat by region, but white was the most prominent choice.

  A white pantsuit stuck out, but not as much as a hazmat suit.

  “Huh.” She studied the cleaner with renewed interest. “You really do learn something new every day.”

  “I’m going to check out a VacayNStay about two blocks down,” Derry informed us. “Wanna come with?”

  Marita checked with me, but there was no reason for her to hang back, so she left with him.

  Dressed in his souvenirs, Clay sat on a stool behind the register, dictating to his phone.

  When I got closer, I overheard him say Peleg and assumed he was texting with Moran.

  Rocking back on my heels, I settled for perusing the store until the cleaners were ready for me.

  About halfway down the last aisle, I caught motion out of the corner of my eye and found one of the three witches from earlier staring into the store through its picture window with an unforgiving pinch of her lips.

  The boldness of her appearance was enough to stop me in my tracks. Plus, I didn’t want to spook her.

  A faint jerk of her chin invited me to join her. Or maybe a fly buzzed her. Neck twitch? Hard to tell.

  The odds of her wanting a one-on-one with me were…abysmal.

  And yet she did the thing again, so I edged toward the door, walking slowly in case she wanted time to run away screaming. Much to my surprise, she got impatient and met me halfway, her body vibrating with the layers of protective spells she had encased herself in before seeking me out.

  Stuffing my hands into my pants pockets as a sign I meant no harm, I asked, “Can I help you?”

  “You’re Rue Hollis.”

  “I am.” I waited for the threats to begin, but she only measured me. “You are?”

  “Someone who knows better than to put her name in the mouth of a former black witch.”

  That she could tell I hadn’t fed in over a decade shouldn’t have shocked me. Her kind was raised on horror stories of mine, and she was old enough to have fought hard to survive this long. Must be powerful too, if she was brave enough to approach me.

  Then again, if she knew me, she knew I was Black Hat. She was safest on a busy street populated with humans. We didn’t have many rules, but our entire existence was dedicated to preventing humans from learning the folklore was true. There were too many of them and too few of us. We were all safer the longer we kept them in the dark.

  “How about I call you Bangles?” She had dozens of them, hair thin, jangling up both arms. “That work?”

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” She slid her gaze past my shoulder. “In private?”

  “This hasn’t been a good week for me,” I admitted. “We’re both safer if we stay here.”

  From out on the street, the other witches had a line of sight to her. Likely members of her coven. And my team could see me.

  “Okay.” She fiddled with her bracelets. “Six black witches have been in town this week.”

  That was five more than we knew about, but Nan came here for a reason. Probably the contents of the lunch bag. Maybe whoever she met with at Moon Water had brought their coven as backup in case Nan got any ideas about double-crossing them.

  “What’s the average these days?” I figured half that. “I haven’t been here in decades.”

  “Six per month.” She wet her lips. “Why are they coming?”

  All of a sudden, her urge to seek me out made more—and less—sense. “Can I ask you a question first?”

  For a long moment, I thought our mutual cooperation was over. “Yes.”

  “Why me?” I shrugged at her incredulous expression. “You’re risking a lot doing this.”

  “We have a right to know.”

  “I’m not disputing that.” I tilted my head, sizing her up from a different angle. “I’m curious why you think I, of all people, would help you.”

  “Your mother.”

  A cold fist squeezed my heart. “You knew her?”

  “Your father brought her to seek our help.” She forced her arms down by her sides. “Weeks ago.”

  “Ah.” Likely prior to the New Orleans debacle, since I hadn’t heard about it before now. “I see.”

  “She gave her word we could come to you for help.”

  That fist squished my insides to a pulp as Mom’s faith in me, in my goodness, sank into my bones.

  White witches.

  Mom told white witches I was safe.

  That I would help them.

  Goddess bless.

  A dull warmth spread across my chest as the Hunk roused itself in response to my heightened emotions. I crushed it with a ragged effort, unwilling to let it tarnish this moment.

  “She’s right,” I rasped. “I would have helped even without the name drop.”

  A squinty stare was all I got in response, which was kinder than what most of her coven would offer.

  “We traced a black witch to this area. That’s why we’re here. She had business in this shop.”

  The impossible knot of her shoulders released a fraction. “They’re passing through?”

  “That’s my guess.” I wanted to comfort her, but I couldn’t afford to lie. “I doubt it’s an uptick in the local population.” I saw an opportunity to mine for information and took it. “They’ll likely be gone tomorrow, but here’s my card in case you run into any problems.” I let her snatch it from between the very tips of my fingers to avoid touching me. “Can you tell me anything about the store? Who owns it? Who works there?” I put my hands back in my pockets. “Do they sell anything illegal?”

  “Terry Cleveland owns the place. She’s a human, as far as I can tell. So is her staff.” Her frown lines cut deeper. “Other than to welcome her to the street when she moved in, I haven’t visited her shop, but I haven’t heard they’re peddling more than discount knickknacks.”

  “How many stores on Essex Street are owned by humans?”

  “Half.” Her chin tilted up a fraction. “The rest are owned by local coven members.”

  Only the brave or the desperate would set up a witchy shop in a witchy town and gamble their safety on anonymity. Hard to earn a living, to build your own life, if you were always on the run. There was more to living than existing, but still. She was right to be proud of their foothold in the local economy.

  “Anyone sell goods sourced from Faerie?”

  “No.” She went back to tinkering with her bracelets. “No one could afford it.”

  “You mean the store owners or the tourists?”

  “Both.” Her expression pinched. “No one wants trouble from the Earthen Conclave.”

  After an influx of fae left Faerie for the mortal realm, a decision was made to form the Earthen Conclave. Every country had a branch, and each regional division was presided over by two magistrates. One Seelie and one Unseelie. Together, they oversaw outposts in each state in their region.

  Fae had their own immigration process, now, but plenty of them came over before laws were in place.

  Like centuries ago.

  Like before tracking time was a thing.

  Like before anyone thought it was a bad idea to slaughter entire villages and let folklore do the rest.

  A few of them ended up in Black Hat, like my predecessor, Jai Parish. Most of them ended up dead.

  No one wanted to get them involved, least of all me. I had enough problems without adding to them.

  “I’ll be in town until tomorrow,” I decided spur of the moment. “Call me if you see more black witches.”

  “Okay.” She tapped my card across her palm. “I should get back.”

  “Me too.”

  “Your mom was a special woman.” A row of neat lines carved into her forehead. “We could use more witches like her.”

  With that, she turned and walked away, trusting her coven—and Mom’s word—to protect her from me.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Thanks to the steady buzz of humans on Essex, cleanup at Moon Water didn’t take the cleaners long. Heavily touristed areas always rated quick assistance, but I had never seen them move this fast.

  They let us go as they began tying up loose ends, like erasing the cashier’s recollection of the events. I was about to break the news to the guys that I had locked us into staying overnight, in case Bangles called, when the Mayhews bounded up the street wearing brilliant smiles I didn’t trust one bit.

  “Why do you look so happy?” I narrowed my eyes then singled out the weak link. “Derry, spill it.”

  “Can you be convinced to spend the night?”

  Answering a question with a question was never good, but they looked so excited I admitted defeat.

  “Yes.” Little did they know I had already agreed to it. “Now, what did you do?”

  With Clay and Asa flanking me, I braced for a bad idea to come in for a landing.

  “We rented the fancy-pants house from that children’s movie for us all tonight,” Derry told us then elbowed Marita. “Tell her the good part.”

  “It’s super haunted.” She bounced on the balls of her feet. “Mega haunted.”

  Shaking his head, Derry pulled out a handful of tickets and passed them around to us. “I meant these.”

  “Ghost tour tickets?” I rubbed the paper between my fingers. “Are you serious?”

  “They came with the rental.” He fanned his face with his. “Could be fun, right?”

  “Yeah.” I thought about it. “You might be onto something.”

  Walking tours were a fun way to explore new towns and a good opportunity to learn their hotspots. Surrounded by a dozen humans, we were safe from all but the depraved, feral, or idiotic. A perfect setup for Clay to teach, protect, and entertain me.

  A swell of nostalgia swept through me, and I was glad I had already decided to spend the night.

  “It was bound to happen eventually.” Marita snickered, still bouncing. “This is going to be so, so cool.”

  “You get that spirits of Old Man Fang’s quality don’t chill on tour routes every night?” Clay placed a firm hand on her shoulder to anchor her heels to the pavement. “Why are you so pumped?”

  “Oh.” Derry pinched her cheek. “That’s the sugar.”

 

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