Chapter 40
She woke, her faced smashed into her pillow. The pillowcase was wet with drool and smudged black with mascara, but it smelled gloriously like home.
She was home. In her own bed. In her own room, in her own house. Edie’s house.
Morning light streamed in through the windows, and she smelled coffee brewing downstairs. She rolled over to see Miles, standing beside the bed, holding a damp washcloth and a bottle of yellow Gatorade. He peered at her with a worried expression. She cracked a smile.
“Oh, thank God,” he breathed.
“Goddess,” she croaked.
“When you came home, you were babbling all this crazy stuff about the Loefflers. About Rill.”
A fragment of a memory. We could work something out …
Had she let something slip to Miles about Rill? She couldn’t remember.
“I didn’t know what to think so I just put you to bed.”
“Thanks.”
She let him fuss over her with the washcloth and Gatorade, then managed to convince him to leave her alone while she cleaned herself up.
When he was finally gone, she got out of bed and showered away the grime, the memory, and the shame of the previous day.
Wrapped in a towel, she walked down the hall into Edie’s room.
As always, Edie’s scents enveloped her, reassuring her as she inhaled.
I gather, I gather, I gather …
She opened the closet and selected another of Edie’s shapeless linen shifts, this one apple green.
She took Edie’s Birkenstocks and a stack of her bangle bracelets and even clean underwear from the dresser drawer, granny panties and a stretched-out old bra.
They smelled comfortingly of old laundry detergent, perfume, and sunshine.
Downstairs, at the door of the altar room, she hesitated.
She hadn’t been in it since that night, the night she’d done the karma spell for Sailor.
She inhaled, drew herself up to her full height, and pushed open the door.
Inside, the room was quiet and still. The Cotillion box with blobs of black candle wax and smashed glass encrusting Scoot’s picture sat on the altar.
“I know you’re there, Edie,” she said. “Go ahead and say it, whatever it is you’re going to say.”
Silence.
“I thought I was doing the right thing.” She gathered the detritus off the altar and dumped it into the trash can. “I was trying to help Sailor.” She gathered the tablecloth and shook it into the can. “I thought I might even be righting the balance for you.”
No answer. Fine. Be that way.
She cast her circle, called the corners, then did a cleansing ritual over herself and the room, ridding herself not only of any residual chemical toxins from the drug in her drink, but also of the bad energy she’d taken on in the last twenty-four hours.
Judge Norwood, Darya, and the guy at Peregrin.
Rill Loeffler …
She remembered the way he pressed against her in the alley.
His face so close to hers. His wife had almost killed someone, she was locked up in a rehab somewhere, and this was what he did—tried to seduce his daughter’s friend.
And Sailor had no idea. She worshipped her father.
Everyone did. To all of Savannah, Rill Loeffler was a god.
But Ingrid knew the truth. He was a despicable human being. She’d thought she had to protect Sailor from her mother, but now she realized Rill was just as bad. And yes, she had been tempted by him, but she was only human. It had only been a momentary lapse, and she knew it was wrong.
She had to stop him. But she wouldn’t do black magic, not after what had happened with Scoot. She had to keep things positive and only cast white magic spells. At least until Edie and the Goddess gave her guidance otherwise.
She closed her eyes and began chanting, sending her intention into the air around her. Up to the sky above …
Gather strength,
As the clock waxes.
Gather courage,
As the day wanes.
I gather, you gather,
And what we gather shall grow,
So in the bloom of night, we shine forth.
She did every spell of protection that she could think of. She felt the agreement of the stars and planets and moon as she chanted. Her will aligning with the greatest Will. The only Will.
She gathered the energy of all the elements into her body.
She lit all the candles Sailor had ever given her and arranged all the relics she’d collected from her time with Sailor in a circle spiraling away from her body.
It was a waxing moon, so she did white magic—invoking Venus and Jupiter, pulling all good things to herself, through herself and then outward to Sailor, Jude, and Cas.
When she was done, she opened her eyes and looked around the altar room.
Everything looked exactly the same, and yet everything was different.
She didn’t know how to explain it, but she felt safe now.
Safer than she’d ever been. And maybe more powerful, too.
Powerful enough to stand up to Rill. Powerful enough to keep fighting for Sailor.
To make her believe that Ingrid was truly her friend.
Her first appointment of the day showed up at eleven and, for the first time in weeks, the reading was what Ingrid considered successful.
The woman, in her fifties, had never been to a psychic, and when Edie traced her palm, she’d cried.
She’d also tipped generously when the session was up and made an appointment for three months down the road.
There were several more drop-ins, so it was past seven in the evening when Ingrid finally trudged back upstairs, exhausted to the bone. She found Miles in the kitchen eating a peanut butter sandwich and drinking a glass of milk.
“What have you been up to all day?” she asked.
“Helped this girl with her new window unit.”
She smiled and, taking the other half of his sandwich, bit into it.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Better.” Her mouth was sticky with the peanut butter. She motioned for the milk, and he handed it over.
He caught her eye. “Do you remember anything from yesterday?”
“I saw Judge Norwood at Husk and told him I thought I was responsible for Scoot getting arrested.”
“Oh no, Ingrid, you didn’t.”
“He told me she was drinking at Peregrin that night, so I went there to ask around if anybody saw someone with her. And then I’m pretty sure somebody roofied my drink.”
“Roofied you?” Miles went stiff, his eyes blazing in surprise and anger.
“And then tried to …”
“Tried to what?”
Throw me off the roof? Assault me in an alley? If she’d been muddled then, she was even more so now. Had the redheaded man really tried to throw her off the roof, or was he just trying to escort her off the property? Maybe she’d misunderstood the whole situation.
“I don’t know.”
Miles was quiet for a moment. “Ingrid, look. The Loefflers own this town. If you were at Peregrin asking about Scoot, somebody probably put a call in to Rill.” He shrugged.
“That’s just the way it works around here.
And at the very least, they would want to shut that down and get you out of there.
I’m telling you, you’ve got to move on. These people are trouble. ”
She moved to the sink to automatically start rinsing dishes and load them into the dishwasher.
“Sailor needs me, Miles. Her mom is in rehab and her father is … well, he doesn’t care about her at all.
He’s made Cas a vice president at Savannah Sauce because he thinks all Sailor is good for is being some man’s trophy wife.
I’m telling you, she’s in a vulnerable place, maybe about to mess up her life. One of her friends even called me.”
“But she won’t see you.”
“I know.” She kept her voice light. “That’s why I was thinking I could do a spell. I did one for protection, for all of us, earlier today. But maybe I should do more.”
“Do you really think that’s a good idea? After what happened with Scoot?”
Annoyance prickled over her. “Whose side are you on?”
“I’m just worried about you.” He tilted his head. “You’re a sweetheart, you really are, Budge. After all they’ve done to you.” He hopped up, gave her a hug, and then gulped his milk. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got a tour.”
“Okay.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Miles, for looking after me.”
He licked his thumb and swiped at the corner of her mouth. “Peanut butter.”
She jerked back and made a face. “Gross.”
But he just grinned at her. She really did love him, even with all his irritating qualities. He was a true friend.
Now he was looking at her thoughtfully.
“What?” Ingrid said.
“Is that what you really want? Sailor Loeffler back in your life?”
“Yes. Why? What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know.” He lifted one eyebrow, one of his jaunty, mischievous, pirate expressions. “What if something happened to Jude?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Just … what if he happened to get mugged or something and you somehow saved him?”
She gave him a wry look. “I’m a witch, Miles, not Spider-Man.”
He laughed. “No bad ideas in brainstorming.” He headed toward the door. “We’ll think of something that’ll convince her. Don’t you worry, Budgie.”
“Seriously, you’ve got to stop calling me that!” she yelled after him, but he just laughed again and clattered out of the house.