Chapter 18 Dead End
DEAD END
We spun around. The woman in the flour-dusted apron stood behind us, a spatula in one hand and a look of understandable suspicion on her face. I caught her scent. She was human.
“Hi,” I said with a bright smile. “We were just—”
“Looking for our dog,” Didi cut in smoothly. She pointed at Bo. “He got loose.”
Bo dropped down from the fence, sat on his haunches, and looked up at the woman with an expression of innocent bewilderment, tongue lolling and tail sweeping the grass.
Pearl would have been impressed by his acting.
The woman’s suspicion faded. “Oh. He’s cute.” She bent and scratched the Husky under the chin. “The food smell must have attracted him. It’s my son’s sixth birthday, you see.”
I glanced over the fence. “It looks like a lovely party.”
The woman grimaced. “The entertainers are trying their best. I found them online. They’re new to the business.”
Didi and I exchanged a glance.
“We’ll be on our way, then,” the witch said with a polite smile.
The woman nodded and watched as we turned and headed back up the road.
“Are we going back to the office?” Gavin asked as we approached the car.
“I think we should talk to the Marchefords,” I said.
Didi lowered her brows. “I agree.”
It didn’t take long for the party to wind down. We watched the Marchefords pack up and tailed them back to their workshop.
Didi pulled up a short distance behind the van and killed the engine. We stepped out of the car and make no attempt to hide our presence.
Stocky Marcheford spotted us first.
He climbed down from the van and froze, his hand on the door handle. He was still wearing his clown nose. Something flickered across his face as his gaze locked with mine. Recognition.
My pulse quickened. He knew who I was.
The other Marchefords paled when they exited the van. They huddled behind their stocky counterpart, the scent of their fear tickling my nostrils.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then, Stocky Marcheford did something I didn’t expect. He pulled the red nose off, tucked it in his pocket, and walked over to us. His face was guarded but not hostile.
Up close, he smelled of sawdust, latex, and the faint residual trace of magic that all witches carried.
“Miss West.” His voice was cautious. “This is unexpected.”
“For both of us,” I said, masking my surprise. “I didn’t know my reputation preceded me.”
“You’re the new white luna of the Hawthorne pack. The entire Amberford supernatural community has heard of you.” He paused, his expression growing uncomfortable. “Besides, I can sense your powers. Anyone with an ounce of magic would be able to.”
I blinked and glanced at Didi. She shrugged, confirming his words.
Stocky Marcheford clocked the witch and Gavin with a wariness that said he was accustomed to being watched by the supernatural community. His gaze dropped to Bo and turned puzzled for a moment.
He regained his composure as the other Marchefords shuffled hesitantly behind him.
“May I ask what your visit is about?”
Didi replied before I could formulate an answer.
“Some people noticed you guys buying supplies,” she said coldly. “Given your family’s history, it raised some eyebrows.”
Something tightened in Stocky Marcheford’s jaw. I smelled annoyance and resignation from the other Marchefords. Tall Marcheford’s arms were folded. The woman’s eyes were hard. Young Marcheford just looked exhausted.
“Our history,” Stocky Marcheford repeated quietly. He glanced back at the trio huddled behind him. “You mean the one where our family got manipulated by the Thornwicks into doing something stupid and lost everything.”
It wasn’t a question.
Didi’s expression had gone carefully neutral. Gavin was studying his shoes with the nervous look of a dragon newt who wanted to be anywhere but here.
I scratched my cheek and decided to change the subject.
“I thought you weren’t allowed to do party tricks.”
The Marchefords stiffened.
“We didn’t use magic,” the woman snapped.
“Olive,” Stocky Marcheford warned. He met my gaze steadily, his own cooling. “She’s right. The ban on our family’s activities covers magic only. “
“The wood carving business hasn’t been great lately,” Tall Marcheford said defensively. “We saw an ad for party entertainers. Figured it couldn’t be harder than carving a dining table.”
“Trust me, it’s harder,” Young Marcheford muttered with feeling.
Stocky Marcheford’s gaze returned to mine. There was no anger in it. Just the quiet, worn-down endurance that said he’d spent decades living under a cloud that wasn’t entirely of his making.
“This is our first gig, Miss West. The Hendersons don’t know what we are. To them, we’re just the guys who agreed to do their kid’s party for a reasonable rate.”
Something tugged in my chest. My wolf huffed softly.
I could smell a mix of conflicting emotions wafting off Didi. The witch seemed to come to a decision.
“I won’t report this to the covens,” she said curtly. “Just make sure you keep this side gig on the down-low.”
The Marchefords looked surprised at this.
“Thank you,” Stocky Marcheford murmured.
The family watched us leave silently, their relief palpable.
The mood in the car was subdued on the drive back. The only one who looked excited was Bo and that was because I’d promised him we’d swing by Stake My Shake and get him his favorite burger.
“Maybe we should have asked the Marchefords about the Lincoln sisters’ disappearance,” Gavin said.
Didi frowned. “I doubt they know anything.”
I had to concur. The Marchefords were a dead end.
“So if the Marchefords are out,” Gavin muttered from the back seat as he fidgeted with a fire extinguisher, “that leaves—”
“The Thornwicks,” Didi finished, her face darkening. “Or someone who’s attempting to do what they nearly did all those years ago.”
My wolf stirred uneasily.
Every lead in this case kept circling back to the same name. The Thornwicks. An exiled family whose magical signature hadn’t been detected in decades and whose whereabouts were currently unknown.
Still, my instincts were telling me the Lincoln sisters’ disappearance had something to do with them. I could tell from Didi’s expression that she was thinking the same thing.
We stopped for a late lunch at Stake My Shake. Bo attempted to steal Gavin’s fries and had his dessert confiscated.
The afternoon sun was sinking behind the mountains surrounding Amberford when Didi finally pulled into the parking lot behind Hawthorne & Associates.
“I’ll call my coven contacts tonight,” she said tiredly. “See if they can dig up anything else. There has to be something we’re missing.”
I nodded and got out of the car with Gavin and Bo. Something caught my eye in the side mirror.
A black cat sat on the low brick wall that fenced the parking lot. It was perfectly still and was watching us with unblinking golden eyes.
My wolf’s hackles rose when I picked up on a strangely familiar sense of wrongness. Bo’s ears twitched.
“What is it?” Gavin said, picking up on our sudden stillness.
I blinked. The cat had disappeared.
“Did you see that?” I asked Gavin sharply.
“See what?” the dragon newt said, following my stare with confusion.
I frowned. Bo shifted closer to me, his wary gaze still locked on where the cat had been.
Didi leaned across the central console of her car. “What’s wrong?”
I hesitated. “Nothing. I thought I saw something.”