21. Untwisting Curses

When Hernández dropped me off, I saw that same middle-aged man was back, parked on the side of the road, staring at the mural. Shit. His car door opened as I walked past him.

"Excuse me," he said.

I turned, fingers twitching, readying a spell. "Yes?"

"Are you hiring?" His eyes kept darting to the mural over my shoulder.

"No," I lied. "I already have a full staff." He was right, though. I really needed to get on that. Part of me was hoping Hester would work here part-time. I wanted her away from all the memories, all the photos of her dead daughter. Forcing herself to leave the house and interact with others a few hours a week might be healing for her.

I'd also been considering asking my Aunt Elizabeth's kids, Frank and Faith, if either or both wanted a job. They were still teenagers and, like their parents, kind people. Which was very uncommon for cousins of mine.

"I can do all kinds of work," he said. Sweat was beading on his forehead.

"That's nice. There are lots of other galleries around town and Carmel has tons." I was having a hard time telling if he was just socially awkward or menacing. Declan hadn't liked him being near me, but that could've been a wolf thing.

"Those places aren't the same." He rubbed his wispy mustache. "I'm supposed to be here, with you and the tentacles. I just know it." His vehemence had me taking a step back.

"I see," I said, flicking my fingers.

He checked his watch. "I have to go."

"That'd be good. And just as a reminder, this is private property. Do you see the signs posted? You can't park there, okay?"

He rushed off without answering, which was fine. I was happy to have him gone.

My phone buzzed. Declan.

"Hey, how's construction going?" I asked.

"That obsessive guy's car is back. Be careful when you get home."

"Already here." I watched while the sweaty man got behind the wheel and started it up. He pulled out without checking traffic, causing a minivan to slam on the brakes.

"I sent him on his way," I explained.

"Good. There's something off about that guy."

"No argument," I said, rounding the gallery to the deck. "By the way, I need tall gates on either end of the deck to keep weirdos from sneaking up on me."

"I was thinking the same thing," he said. His voice had become easier to hear. He must have walked outside, away from the construction noise. They were still in demolition mode over there. They were being careful, though, as the building had a light smattering of structural damage. "I sketched out some ideas. I'll show you tonight. Are you still up for dinner?"

"You bet." I glanced around. Still no tennis ball. Hmm, maybe something happened to our ball.

"Great. I'll see you later."

"Have fun tearing stuff apart." I opened the back door of the studio.

Laughing, he said, "Always."

After disconnecting, I dropped my backpack and got a new tennis ball from the canister. I found the orange flippy thing to make the ball sail and went back out. The sun was so bright, reflecting off the waves, I wished I had sunglasses.

"Wilbur! Are you around?" I flung the ball, waiting for him to arrow out from under the deck. When he didn't, I drooped. Where was he? Maybe I'd go swimming later. He always seemed to find me when I was in the water. I couldn't do it now, though. The field trip to Cypress Academy had put me behind schedule.

Weaving my hair into a loose braid, I went in and got back to work painting the gallery.

Hours later, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I peeled the rubber gloves off my regular ones and fished the phone out of my pocket. Mom.

"Hey, Mom." I put her on speakerphone so I could keep going.

"Darling, are you at the gallery?"

"Yep. I'm painting the walls."

"Oh, good. I'm on my way to pick you up. We need to go to your Gran's. She says she feels a dark presence circling the house."

I sealed the paints, cleaned the brushes with a spell—which I hated doing, as it often left the hairs of the brushes in a sorry state. Climbing down the scaffolding, I said, "I'll be out front in a minute."

I studied the wall so far and felt like I was making good progress. It wasn't there yet. I needed to think about how to amplify the illusion of ocean water.

Grabbing my backpack, I locked up and jogged around the side of the gallery. Damn Calliope. Why wouldn't she leave Gran alone?

Mom wasn't in front yet, so I paced. I did, of course, know why. Gran was the matriarch. She held the family in check. Cal and her demon wanted us in shambles so we'd be easier to pick apart. Was the goal money? Power? It wasn't as though Gran's power could be transferred upon her death.

I kicked a rock. Maybe laying waste to the family was the point. Tires kicked up pebbles behind me. I got ready to jump out of the way in case it was Sweaty Guy again. Thankfully, Mom's tasteful sedan pulled up beside me.

"I was with John and Roger at Hester's when your Gran called. John gave me the baby prints. They're in the back seat. We need to have you look for Calliope when we're done building wards," she said.

I glanced over my shoulder at the bag on the back seat. "Okay."

Gran didn't live far away, so we were there in no time. Mom slowed as we neared, turning through a narrow break in the foliage. Pacific Madrone and Monterey Pine created a canopy over the hidden driveway, with white camellia bushes, elderberry, hostas, and hydrangea filling in the pockets around the circular cobbled drive.

She parked by the glossy wooden front door, carved with protective sigils. Gran's house was like a bag of holding. It appeared to be a tiny forgotten stone cottage, clinging to the edge of a cliff. When you walked in, though—over polished wood floors, laid in intricate patterns mirroring the sigils on the door—the ceiling rose higher than the roof. A one-room hovel became a three-bedroom, three-bath showplace, with every room boasting huge windows overlooking the ocean.

Gran opened the door as we got out. "It's gone now. It was poking at the windows and doors, trying to slide past the wards."

I was happy to see anger and not fear on her face. "We'll bolster the wards, just like we did at the cannery, to keep it away."

Nodding, she waved us in.

When I walked through the door, I felt something off. Stopping short, I caused Mom to run into me.

"Really, Arwyn, what are you doing?" Bumping into people was rude and undignified. She wasn't happy I'd made her do it.

"Sorry, Mom." I stepped out of the way. "Could you two go in? There's something around the door that's bothering me."

They got out of my way and I moved in and out of the door, pausing on the porch. Like a divining rod, I was trying to find the smudge of darkness attached to Gran's home. My head started to pound. "It's the door itself."

Taking off a glove, I touched the door.

Smoke hangs in the flickering torchlight. The heat is oppressive. Delicate hands work a mortar and pestle, grinding something into a paste. My head begins to throb in time with low chanting. I recognize the voice. Calliope is twisting a spell, doing black magic. On the large wooden table is a headless chicken and an open book, a grimoire.

The ancient spell book is bound in cracked, peeling leather. I can't read the open page, but it contains cramped handwriting and stains that have amassed over the ages. She picks up an athame, a wicche's ceremonial dagger, and slices her palm, dripping blood into the concoction. Next, she tips in the contents of a small vial and then circles the pestle counterclockwise, the chanting getting louder and faster.

Outdoors now. In the night. Gran's house. That same delicate hand dips a small paintbrush into a jar holding the cursed potion and she begins to alter the blessed sigils on Gran's door, unwinding, one by one, the protections.

Blinking, I caught myself before I hit the ground. Touching those damn curses was what was making me so sick. "We need a nulling draught," I told my mom as I slipped my glove back on.

"What is it?" Gran asked.

I explained what I'd seen. "We need to wash all the sigils, null all the spells, protective and cursed, and then we need to build the wards again."

Mom and Gran stared at me. "It took days for us to create those wards. A nulling draught won't undo our work."

"No," Gran admitted, "but the three of us working together can strip it down and build it back up. Good," she said, rubbing her hands together. "We know what she did, and we know how to fix it. Let's get started."

We worked well into the evening, hands held, as the Three touched each sigil with our magic, purifying it and then rebuilding the ward. As each mark was stripped and again blessed by the Goddess, a part of the door burned bright and then went out. When we were finally done, the door was filled with scorch marks, but all the protections and then some were back.

I hadn't been one of the original ward makers. That had happened before I was born. Now, though, there was fae magic threaded through, making it far more difficult for a sorcerer to dismantle.

Since Gran had felt the presence circling her house, we did the same, looking for weak spots. I found two more areas where Calliope had corrupted the wards. Afterward, exhausted, we went in and collapsed in the living room, Gran in her rocker by the fireplace, Mom on the couch, and me in the chair to the side.

My phone buzzed. When I pulled it out of my pocket, I saw I had missed calls and texts. Groaning, I got back to my feet and went out to Gran's patio, overlooking the ocean.

"Hey. Sorry I missed your messages."

"Oh, thank God." Declan's voice was grumbly and concerned. "I thought that creep had come back and taken you."

"He's human. He can't hurt me."

"Except if he touches your skin, puts you in a trance, and steals you while you're out. A lot of damage can be done to an unconscious person."

"That's the stuff I try not to think about or I'd isolate myself even more. I'm sorry you've been worried, though. I'm at my gran's. Mom called and said Gran was feeling a dark presence lurking around her home." I explained the rest, including the fact that we'd just completed our work here.

"Are you safe outside?" Poor guy. I'd really scared him.

"Sure. When we create the wards, we're not just creating a magical seal on the house. We're extending the protections to her property. All bets are off out on the main road, but on Gran's property, we're fine."

"I can run it for you, see if I pick up her scent anywhere. She may have planted curses in other spots."

I was about to say we had it, but this was Gran we were talking about. We needed her protected. "Yes. Thank you. That would settle our minds."

"Good. I'm on my way."

I went back in and explained that Declan was coming to check the grounds. Mom thought it unnecessary, but Gran was grateful.

"Don't be ridiculous, Sybil. We need to know if she and her demon planted more curses on my property, and we have a Quinn in the family who can check. You say thank you when he arrives," Gran said.

"He's not in the family," Mom protested.

Gran pushed back and began to rock in her chair, seeming to catch a second wind. "You keep telling yourself that, if it makes you feel better."

The next few minutes were tense, but when I heard Declan's truck, I headed out to the drive. The first thing he did was pull me into a bruising hug, kissing the top of my head.

"You had me worried."

"Sorry. I know we had a date. I forgot to contact you before we got started." I shrugged in his arms. "I'm not used to anyone besides Mom and Gran looking for me."

"That's something we'll both need to get used to. And it's not your fault. I was the one letting my mind run away with what could have happened." He kissed my lips. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks." I grinned into his chest. This was nice.

He gave me one more squeeze and then let go. "Let me get undressed and I'll shift." He went back to the far side of his truck, opened the door, and started to strip, dropping his clothes on the seat.

"Gran's getting her security checked and I get a show. Win-win." I was trying hard to play it cool and not ogle him, but he was built like a god, so it was tough.

He bent down to unlace his boots, step out, and then lose his jeans and boxers. He gave me a wink and then shifted. Just like that. In the span of a blink, a huge black wolf was shaking out his fur and rounding the truck to me.