Chapter 10
“How angry was Delaney about us investigating the safe?” Dusi was helping me unload yarn onto the lovely wooden shelves I’d set up along one wall. The yarn was soft and colorful. Tiny futures whispered the joy of stitches and creations it would become.
“She seemed relieved. She can’t investigate the charges against Jean. I think she was happy to have another crime she could sink her teeth into.”
Dusi nodded and opened a new box. “Sock weight. Over there?”
“Yes, please.”
“Have you looked at the future to see if Delaney finds the box? Or if Jean is cleared of the crime?”
“I tried yesterday until I got a headache. No luck. It’s just a jumble of possibilities all slapped over the top of the others in a big mess. I can’t tell which will come true.”
“That sounds unpleasant.”
I huffed a laugh. “It is! You’d think seeing the future would be easy, but nope.” I finished off the box of extra bulky yarn and opened the next: worsted weight. “Have you met many people like me?”
Dusi paused. “Like you?”
“You know, seers who are demigods.” I didn’t talk about being half-god much because I mostly felt like a regular mortal who could see a few future things. But Dusi had been alive for thousands of years. If anyone had met other demigods, it would be her.
“Oh. Yes. I’ve met a few.” She went back to stacking yarn in pretty piles.
“Were any of them better at seeing futures? Like, is there a trick to make it easier?”
She made a considering sound. “Every demigod I’ve known had different powers. But many could see and influence the future.”
“Influence with free will? Or by telling people what to do?”
“By stepping briefly into the future they choose, they can force it to come true.”
That sounded like a terrible idea. “Jules said some demigods can move through time.”
“They can.”
“How are you so calm about this? They could have set horrible things into motion by picking the wrong futures.”
She chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure they did. Most of them just made themselves wealthy, but yes. Some of them abused their power and chose terrible futures. Most people in power abuse that power. Demigods and gods aren’t all that different.”
“I don’t abuse my power.”
“I know. That’s one of the reasons we’re friends.”
I stuffed yarn onto the shelf. “Do you know how they do that? Move through time?”
“No. I’m not a demigod. Have you tried to do it?”
“Never!”
She hummed. She was wearing her mirrored sunglasses, and I could tell from the angle of her head she was looking over my shoulder.
“Piper, you have power. It can be a gift or a curse, however you care to label it. Whether you want it or not, whether you use it or not, there is no harm in knowing what that power can do by testing it.”
“I test it. I know some of what it can do. It’s just…I like to live life hands-on, if that makes sense. I like surprises. I like living in the now. I don’t want to know everything about the future. I don’t want to be the one who decides on the future for everyone.”
“Still, knowing your power can come in handy. Especially when one needs to threaten the truth out of a demon queen.” She grinned and that made me laugh.
“You were brilliant! None of us saw that coming.”
She shrugged. “Xtelle and I both know that if I turned her into stone or if she tried to kill me, we’d be kicked out of Ordinary. And—for very different reasons—we both very much want to stay here.”
“It’s home for you,” I said.
“It is. I think it’s a playground for her. But still, it’s a playground she doesn’t want to give up.”
“Speaking of playgrounds, are you going to the soft launch of Marty’s board game store?”
She made a considering sound. “Jules wants me to.”
“I know.”
“She thinks Marty and I should be dating faster. What do you think?”
“She likes you and she likes her nephew. She wants you both happy. But if dating Marty doesn’t make you happy, you should absolutely not see him.”
“The thing is, I am seeing him, we are seeing each other. We’re just doing it very slowly, taking our time.”
For no reason I could think of, the image of Vandre flashed through my mind. Not a possible future, just a memory of him sitting at the table, of his crooked smile.
“I think if you told Jules you were taking it at your own pace, she would stop teasing you about it,” I said.
“I don’t mind a little teasing.” Dusi’s phone rang and she answered it. From her side of the conversation, I knew it was someone inquiring about her art.
She stood, and with a last look at me (I waved her off and gave her a thumb’s up), she headed down to her gallery to finish the call.
Which left me with a couple more boxes of yarn to unpack and a lot of questions swirling through my head.
Could I improve my powers?
Did I want to learn how to use them more?
And then the ever-present: Who killed Hugo?
I didn’t want to believe it was Jean, so that left the suspects I’d talked to: his ex-business partner Kenny who was stepping out with his almost ex-wife, Gail, or Gail, who didn’t seem very fond of him, either.
Both of them seemed like good possibilities.
Out of the two, Kenny seemed angrier, more… motivated to take drastic action.
That business he and Hugo were running together wasn’t thriving—even I could see that.
He’d mentioned a going out of business sale, hadn’t he? When he was talking to Gail at the diner?
I unboxed more yarn, letting my mind wander.
The more I thought about it, the more I thought Kenny had to be involved.
If the business was failing, or if Hugo had stolen from Kenny or the shop (he’d mentioned he was doing inventory.
Was he looking for something?) that might be enough to make Kenny take some stabbing matters into his own hands.
What I really needed was to confront Kenny again. Try to get him to slip up, confess what was stolen. Or that he’d stabbed Hugo.
Once he confessed, Jean would be off the hook.
I could record him on my phone. (Thank you, Shelly for the idea.) I grinned. I might be wrong about Kenny, but I might be right. Plus, I loved having a plan.
I finished the yarn and checked my watch to make sure I still had time to stop by his shop before my shift tonight.
But as soon as I put my hand on my car door, my phone rang.
The caller ID said it was Bertie. I wasn’t foolish enough to send a Valkyrie to voice mail.
“Hello?”
“Piper. Boast of the Coast needs one more person to sort for the next hour. When can you be here?”
Just like Bertie not to ask but to assume I could make it.
“Unless you have other commitments?” she added as an afterthought.
“Um...” I didn’t think my excuse of trying to get Kenny to confess he had stabbed his thieving business partner would get me off the hook.
Little futures flashed:
Me sorting boxes
Me sorting boxes
Me sorting boxes
Well, that settled it.
“I’ll head right over.”
“Good.” She ended the call.
I chuckled.
“One thing I like about you, Bertie,” I said, starting the car, “is how straight-forward and clear you are. No one can misinterpret what you tell them.”
* * *
Bertie had massively understated how much work there was left to do. The tables at the community center groaned with piles of donations. Even more piles teetered beside them.
The donation drive had gone too well.
Bertie must be thrilled.
There was clothing, bedding, and—hey! a pile of familiar faded talking teddy bears.
Kenny had donated something. Good for him.
Two other volunteers in headphones were at their tables sorting, so I headed to the bears and the table that had several empty boxes.
“You have seen better days, haven’t you, friends?” I picked up each bear and flipped the little switch to make sure they worked.
Every teddy, except for one, called out a cheery “Hello.” Not bad for old toys.
I considered the bear without the working voice box.
“You’re faded, but still pretty cute,” I said. “And you’re probably a collector’s item, or at least have the nostalgia factor going for you.”
I put that bear to one side (it might just need new batteries or for its wires to be reconnected), then gave each bear a little dusting and smoothed out its fur. I tucked them into boxes along with several other new toys and a good selection of fun items.
I made notes on the charts, inventoried each box, gave a suggested age for the recipient, and once that was done, took the completed charts to the basket where they’d be entered into the computer to keep track of the items and to make sure we had enough boxes for enough ages.
Then I moved on to the next set of boxes.
Sorting took enough concentration to keep my brain busy. Flashes of little Futures helped me make decisions when I got stumped.
Dusi was right, the power was useful, even if I only used it for little things. I made great progress on three more tables.
When my phone alarm went off, I was surprised an hour and a half had gone by already.
I might have made progress, but there was more to be done—a lot more. Luckily, a crowd strolled through the door, laughing and exchanging insults.
The knitting and crocheting clubs had just arrived.
Good. They’d straighten this all out before sundown.
I greeted a few members. (I was an infrequent member of both clubs which made me a traitor to both.) I also reminded them my little store would be open soon. Then I picked up the broken teddy bear and hurried out to change before my shift.
Kenny’s shop was on the way to my house, and returning the broken bear for him to repair would be the perfect excuse to ask him a few more questions.
So, I turned into the parking lot.
The lights were off, which was strange (or maybe not that strange if he was going to quit the business), but I got out of the car anyway and strolled to the door.
I let myself in, the hinges screaming.
“Hello?”
The store was a mess. It looked like a huge wind had blown through in a rage and thrown half of everything onto the floor, knocking over shelves, breaking valuables, and scattering papers.
A robbery? Or had Kenny done this?
“Hello?” I was already dialing 911.
I eased into the room. Little futures flashed bigger, louder, but I didn’t want to know, didn’t want to see. Not yet.
I walked to the repair and storage room behind the counter…
…where all those futures I didn’t want to know became true.
“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?” Delaney asked.
“There’s been a break-in at the Wires and Widgets,” I said, staring at Kenny who was face down on the floor, unnaturally stiff and still.
“I think they killed Kenny.”