9. The Line Forms to the Left

How had I not known it was Uncle Andrew? I'd even seen his face, seen him close his eyes. How had I not recognized him? Shaking my head, I followed their voices to the sitting room, opposite the dining room. It was a light and airy room, high windows, off-white walls, with a floral sofa and matching chairs.

Gran and Mom looked shaken, their expressions drawn. Voices hushed, they assured each other that they hadn't lost another child, another sibling.

"I'll make tea," I said and headed back to the kitchen. As I brewed a calming blend, I pulled out the cart and cups while wondering what else I'd missed. This had always been my problem, hadn't it? I was shit when it came to visions related to Coreys. I couldn't see myself in visions at all, and I'd missed Abigail and Calliope.

If I'd agreed to join the Corey Council when they'd first asked me at thirteen, maybe Sylvia… How many people had suffered, lost their lives, because I didn't want it, was afraid of it? No wonder Mom had been pissed off at me most of my life.

Without their perspective, the bicyclist would have been just a guy in one of the thousands of visions swirling in my head. They recognized him and called to prevent his death. I would have started baking and ignorantly let him die.

When I eventually composed myself and rolled in the tea cart, Mom and Gran were looking more themselves. I poured, passed the cups and saucers, and then sat in the far chair, feeling as low as I could remember in quite some time.

"Your Gran and I were discussing the vision." Mom took a sip and sat back in her chair. "That was Elizabeth's greenhouse. I called, telling her to check her wards and to put a lock on it. She was very grateful for the warning and will be securing it today."

"Good," I said, pretending I wasn't drowning in a very dark place right now.

"Serena's shop," Mom said. "Did you see which jar the poison went in?"

"It was on the far right, looking at the counter. I think it was a lavender and lemon blend. I'm not positive, though," I said. "The thing about visions is that sometimes they're more symbolic. It might be a Darjeeling or a berry hibiscus, but I saw lavender lemon because that was what I wanted to drink in that moment. It might not even be tea. I think we tell her what we saw, but also alert her to someone coming in and causing a distraction in order to poison her products."

Mom and Gran nodded slowly, taking that in. Mom got Serena on the phone and told her exactly that and to rebuild her wards. Calliope had worked with her on the original warding of the shop, meaning Calliope could take them down anytime she wanted. I stayed out of it. Serena hadn't been my biggest fan before her mother had died and I'd identified her sister as the sorcerer who'd done it. Now? Well, there was a lot of understandable hostility aimed at me.

Once Mom was off the phone, she looked between the two of us. "What was that about John? What was upsetting him on the computer?"

I shook my head. I hadn't seen the screen either.

Gran said, "It was a banking website."

Mom swiped through the phone and called John, Serena and Calliope's dad. As Mom explained the vision, he logged into his accounts, checked balances, and then reset his passwords. He said he'd be contacting the bank to add more security. It was the best we could do at the moment.

"So, she needs money," Gran said. "We'll need to send a message to everyone to change passwords and update security. If she can't steal her parents' money, she'll try to steal someone else's."

"They should probably strengthen all their wards," I said. "Who knows how long she's been planning, stockpiling information, unwinding wards."

"Yes," Mom agreed. "I'll send out the message today." She picked up her phone again and texted.

"Wait until we've finished our meeting," Gran said.

"No. I'm sending Andrew over to sit with Hester. I'll be taking Arwyn this afternoon, but I want someone with her now."

Gran and I nodded our agreement.

"Did either of you recognize the man who was pushed down the stairs?" I asked.

They looked at each other and then shook their heads.

"The house didn't look familiar either," Gran said.

"No," Mom agreed.

"Maybe the one doing the pushing?" Gran asked.

"I couldn't see him," I said. "I don't think he's family, but it feels like he's connected to a Corey. No idea how, though."

"And that other one being shoved off a cliff," Gran said. "I've never seen him before either."

Mom took a sip and shook her head. "Nor have I."

Shrugging, I said, "Me neither. And this is the problem with visions. Sometimes I have no idea what they mean until after the thing happens." I rubbed my forehead. "It's so frustrating."

"Well," Mom began, "we'll think about it and maybe one of us will have an epiphany."

"The fire scares me," Gran said. "I didn't see enough to identify the house. They already tried to burn down your gallery. Are they coming back to do it again? Is it one of our houses? Is the fire connected to that dark presence we saw trying to break into our homes?"

I closed my eyes, calling up the image. "I don't think it's me. The shape of the building isn't right. The gallery is much longer than what we saw. I feel like I should know it, but I can't place it."

Mom stood. "We'll think about that too." She checked her watch. "The family knows we're meeting. If anyone would like to petition our help, they're to arrive in about fifteen minutes. I suggest we use the restroom or whatever we need to do to freshen up. I have no idea how many might come, but we'll need to be ready and welcoming. We haven't had a meeting like this in a very long time, so many people need our help."

Yeah, I felt that punch. Mom was always good at hitting her targets.

She flicked her fingers and chairs that had been along the wall were now fanned out in front of the window. "We'll let people congregate in the parlor while we see petitioners one by one in here." She started to leave and then paused. "Darling, can you freshen our tea? I believe we'll be seeing a great many people."

I did and then I used the time to send a quick text to Declan.

Me: I had a vision about a building burning. It's not my gallery again. I think, though, it might be your barn. It was hard to identify the shape, but I heard a growl, and the pack is causing trouble. Do you have sprinklers installed yet?

Declan: No, not yet. I'll get the cameras mounted today and the motion sensors. Thank you.

Even if I was wrong, he was doing things to keep himself safer, which was good. As Mom and Gran were still in the kitchen, I pulled the borrowed grimoire from my backpack and started leafing through it. I read over the marked spell Dave had recommended. It was simple enough and I'd never had trouble memorizing spells. I didn't think I'd ever use it, though. It felt evil.

There were a lot of spells I knew, some familiar with alterations. Most grimoires were specific to a family, the spells recorded the way that family performed the spell. I loved studying other grimoires because it highlighted how varied our magic was, how personal. There wasn't one specific way to access and use magic.

Near the end, I found a spell for finding something important. Mom, Gran, and I had already performed countless spells, trying to find where Calliope had hidden herself. This one was new, though.

"What's that you have?" Gran asked.

"Sam loaned me a grimoire that has a very creepy spell for sending someone to Hell. She wanted me to see it, since we're dealing with sorcery."

Brow furrowed, Gran leaned on the back of my chair. "Let me see it."

I flipped back and showed her. Her gaze slid across the page. Patting my shoulder, she said, "It's dark but not black magic. If it keeps you safe, use it."

She sat on the couch and I put the grimoire away. I heard voices in the entry. There was no time to try the finding spell now, but I'd try later when I had the time and quiet to practice.

More voices were added to the ones I'd heard. Too many people were coming today, some of whom I didn't know, or at least remember. Mom and Gran knew them all, though. They greeted everyone by name, asked after the particulars in their lives, and then gave them the chance to request our aid. Mom and Gran were benevolent queens. I was the idiot to the side, taking notes. The petitioners glanced at me warily while explaining their marriage difficulties, their business troubles, their errant children and infuriating neighbors to Mom and Gran.

I wrote it all down, adding a score to their request, with a bulleted list explaining why I'd given them that score.

I scored the one who wanted us to help his failing online investment banking business a one. He was gambling away his profits and trying to hide that from his long-suffering wife, who was sitting beside him. She was the Corey. He'd married into the family because he'd seen dollar signs. He possessed weak magic, relying on his wife to do the heavy lifting, so to speak.

How did I know all of this when I hadn't touched him? I hadn't put my shields back up after the vision. I could have, but I was feeling pretty shitty about myself and so left myself wide open to it all, taking the emotional battery. I think Mom, Gran, and I were still connected, which heightened my abilities as well.

My head was killing me and I was trying to will my stomach not to rebel, but I did my job, listening, taking notes, and adding insights.

When a woman embarrassedly asked for our help with her marriage, I wanted to pull her aside and tell her he'd been cheating since the beginning. He was trash and she needed to leave him, to lock him out of her accounts and leave him. Thankfully, I didn't have to. Apparently, Gran and Mom knew about the cheating as well.

Mom advised her to divorce him, to show some self-respect and kick him out. It was harsh, but it felt like she'd needed the kick to the teeth to get her moving. California was a no-fault, community property state, Mom told her, so there may not be much she could do about the money, but that house was paid for with her Corey inheritance and the children shouldn't suffer by losing their home because he was a cruel bastard. Gran even offered to visit to make sure he and his belongings were out by the end of the day. When the woman got shakily to her feet, she stood a little taller, resolved. She'd had enough.

By the time we'd seen everyone, Mom had a series of people scheduled to sit with Hester, and I too had had enough. What I wanted to do was crawl into my bed, close the shutters, turn off the lights, and try to sleep away the pounding headache and nausea. Instead, what I would do was visit Hester and pass on her message from Pearl.

Wait. "That was the connection," I blurted, confusing Gran and Mom, who were picking up their teacups and placing them on the cart.

"What connection?" Mom asked.

"The man thrown down the staircase. It felt familiar but not. I think it's connected to Pearl's killer."

Gran sank back down onto the couch while Mom just stared, waiting.

"I need to talk with Detective Hernández. I think it's the same killer."

"What about that poor man who was pushed off the cliff?" Gran asked.

I thought about it, staring out the front window at the ocean. "It's not the same energy, but it does feel connected. I don't know. My head is killing me. I'll try later after the pounding has stopped. I'll call the detective, though, on the way to Aunt Hester's to give her a heads-up."

"Okay. Mother, I'll get your bag. Are you ready?"

Gran nodded but didn't move. I understood. It had been an exhausting day and it wasn't over yet.

After I returned the tea cart to the kitchen, I grabbed my backpack and waited on the front porch, sitting on the stairs. Mom wanted to send an email to the family, warning them to strengthen their wards and change their passwords. I, however, needed ocean winds to blow the pain away. Oh! The honey bear seawater. I'd forgotten.

Digging into my backpack, I pulled it out, squeezed some onto both gloves, and then placed one hand on my forehead and one on the back of my skull. It was almost immediate, the lessening of the pain. Thanks, Dad. And, yes, I had fresh gloves to put on.

"Why on earth are you carrying around a honey bottle?" Mom's voice startled me out of my stupor. She and Gran were standing behind me, wearing expressions somewhere between confusion and concern.

"Oh," I said, twisting the top closed and returning it to my backpack. "It's just an empty container that's light and handy. The important part is the ocean water inside. My head was killing me, and I felt like I was going to hurl—"

"Arwyn, really," Mom corrected.

"I thought I might be sick."

"Did it help?" Gran asked.

Nodding, I stood and shouldered the backpack. "Yeah. It did. It's not completely gone but I'm feeling much stronger than I was a few minutes ago."

"Good," Mom said. "Mother, I made sure Lucy has your number in case she has any trouble kicking that piece of garbage she married out. I don't think she will, though. She sounded determined."

"That's too bad," Gran said as we walked single file to Mom's car. "I was looking forward to putting the fear of me into him."

I opened the passenger door for Gran and then got into the back of Mom's very safe and very expensive sedan. While they discussed some of the petitioners, I called Detective Hernández and told her about the two murders.