Black Arts, White Craft (Black Hat Bureau 2)

“You made it?” Her wide eyes shifted between us. “That’s cool.”

“You don’t have to use it,” he said under his breath, “if you don’t like it.”

He set the box on the counter before her and kept easing away until I had to grab him again to keep him from slinking to his room to escape her reaction. Used to fading into the background, I worried he would disappear under scrutiny. That was the reason why, I told myself, I held on tighter.

Rubbing four hands together, Colby tore off the lid then plastered on the expression every kid who ever asked for a gaming console but received Monopoly instead wore to mask their disappointment. Or so I had been led to believe by the Christmas movie marathons Colby forced me to watch each December.

“It’s great, Asa.” She injected false cheer into her voice. “Thank you.”

“He hasn’t told you the best part.” I elbowed him in the ribs. “Go on, explain it.”

Still not looking at her, shoulders bowing under her expectation, he murmured, “It repels bad dreams.”

“Like a dreamcatcher?” Her wings flittered with a rush of excitement. “And it works? For real?”

“Its magic only works for you,” he said, peeking up, “so you’ll have to test it.”

“Ace has never given anyone a bum gift,” Clay said in his partner’s defense. “It’s the real deal.”

“It feels…” she lifted it and buried her face in it, “…like a warm hug from Rue.”

With a practiced move, she slung it across her shoulders then tugged it up until it covered her head.

“Thanks, Asa.” She tucked it around herself. “This is the best present ever.”

Only her eyes peered out of the cowl of fabric. Even her antennae were in hiding. Out of the box, I could tell it was a four-by-four square. The perfect size for Colby to carry around with her at home and on any cases that required our assistance to maintain the letter of my bargain with Black Hat.

“You’re welcome.” Gaze sliding away, he tugged on one of his earrings. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Want to see my moves?” She jostled Clay’s elbow to get his attention. “Show him.”

The two of them settled in to watch her slaying her enemies while I returned to the hot stove, thankful the cabin hadn’t burned down around us, and made us all breakfast. I kept sneaking peeks at them while I plated the food, and I couldn’t help but feel like this was as close to a family as I’d had since my parents died. As much as it streaked my black heart with rays of much-needed lightness, it cost me my appetite.

To have a family meant I had something to lose.

After everyone had eatenand retired to their rooms to sleep, to binge baking shows, or to battle the orc scourge, I selected the largest mixing bowl from beneath the kitchen counter. I used the deep sink to fill it with water then sloshed to my room.

Cross-legged on the bed, the mattress as fluffy as a down pillow, I sat with the bowl cradled between my thighs. A drop of blood earned me a dial tone, for lack of a better explanation, which I used to call an old friend beyond the veil.

Megara had practiced law in one form or another for three hundred years before she took a silver bullet to the heart after a divorce case turned violent in the courthouse parking lot. I hadn’t known her then. I didn’t meet her until after my parents died, and she executed their will from the beyond.

Had she survived, I liked to imagine she would have taken me in. Or at least been the Rue to my Colby.

“Megara, I summon thee.” I squeezed out another drop. “Megara, I summon thee.”

The stubborn wench always refused to show until after I observed every formality, which could probably be blamed on her former occupation. She remained the best lawyer on either side of the veil, but death did impact her business. Her fees were steeper these days, she was harder to contact, and she also required her clients to play secretary for her. There was no way around that when you hired incorporeal legal aid.

“Thrice I bid thee.” More crimson plinked into the water. “And thrice I tithe thee.”

I ran a fingertip along the edge of the bowl, and the water rippled, darkened, swirled in a mini whirlpool.

“Hear me,” I called in a resonant voice. “Arise.”

A face appeared wreathed in smoke, not from theatrics, but from the cigarette hanging from her bottom lip.

“Darling.” Her yellowed teeth glinted at me. “Two calls in the same year? Why, I’m flattered.”

Between her and Clay, they excelled at guilting me about…well…everything.