Chapter 55
“I have to think.”
She heard herself say the words and was surprised that she was being so measured. But it was the right thing to do. This was the biggest decision she’d ever made in her life.
She felt strangely torn when he released her. Like already they were a whole.
“Meet me in thirty minutes, in the house. In my study,” he said. “No one will be there. We can discuss the particulars.”
She nodded and he gently pushed her away. She turned and began to walk away, feeling him watch her go. She could feel how serious his face was in the soft moonlight. How good it felt to be the one who was desired above everyone else. She’d never experienced that before. Not in this way.
She went to get water, and as she drank it, she almost choked.
Oh Goddess …
Oh shit.
She’d cast that spell on Rill—the lifting of the veil of protection. Which wasn’t exactly the worst thing in the world, but it wasn’t the greatest either. She should undo it. Fast. And talk to Miles so he didn’t do anything stupid and try to help her magic along—
Oh shit, shit, shit. Miles …
Her brain finally pushed past the alcohol and now, her heart skittering, panic level rising, she scoured the square.
Miles was nowhere in sight. She was already chanting under her breath: uncross, uncross, uncross …
remembering something Edie told her once.
How to undo this particular spell. There were purifying baths, rituals involving black salt and hyssop and mirrors.
She also said you could recite the 37th Psalm.
Ingrid googled quickly and read off her screen.
… better the little that the righteous have than the wealth of many wicked; for the power of the wicked will be broken, but the Lord upholds the righteous …
She should have Rill recite the psalm later when they talked. She’d make up some kind of reason for it. Right now, she had to find Miles. Find him and stop him before he possibly did something stupid.
It was fully dark now, the shadows obscuring the square, making it almost impossible to see anyone’s face clearly. Ingrid wound her way through the crowd, searching for Miles, asking everyone if they’d seen a guy in an old-fashioned, burgundy suit.
When she was near one of the outdoor bars, she saw Cas.
“Hi, you,” he slurred.
She met his eyes. He looked sweaty and flushed. She stepped away from him.
“I’m heading over to the house to use Sailor’s bathroom. Bridesmaid privilege.”
“Come find me when you’re done. You owe me a dance.”
“Leave me alone, Cas.”
His mouth opened, a crestfallen look on his face.
“You said we’re done, so we’re done. And now you have to leave me alone.”
He lifted his hands. “Fine.” He turned his back on her and stalked away.
She stared after him. It didn’t matter. How many women had he toyed with before her? How close had she come to being just another piece of trash to be lied to, then discarded, by Cas Loeffler? She’d wasted enough time. She was finally on the right path.
She sped up her search, scouring every corner of the square.
After what seemed like forever, finally pointed her to the Temple Mickve Israel, where she found Miles, sitting with Boney on the imposing stone steps.
As she approached them, giddy with relief, Boney waved, and she saw they were passing a joint between them.
“Princess! What a wonderful party your darling richie friends have thrown for the proletariat.”
“Guys, really? The temple steps?” She scanned the area for cops, then glanced at Miles.
He’d taken his jacket off, her grandpa’s jacket, and it was balled up beside him like an empty bag of potato chips.
She couldn’t make out the expression on his face.
He looked strange. She hoped he hadn’t seen her dancing with Rill.
She wasn’t ready to explain that situation.
“It’s fine,” Boney said, leaning back and inhaling with deep concentration. “Seems like lots of rules are being broken tonight.”
She gave him an eat shit look. “Just can’t stay away from the richies, can you, Boney?”
“Not when they’re providing free libations.” He lifted up his glass of brown liquor and elbowed Miles, who passed him the joint. “And I’m Tristan tonight, by the way. Upstanding citizen of Savannah, Georgia.”
Miles was studying her. “Where have you been?”
“Around.” She tilted her head, eyeing him back. What was wrong with him? He looked so glum. “Can we talk? In private?”
On the other side of the square, a uniformed cop was heading in their direction. Boney pinched the joint and dropped it on the step. Miles smoothly pocketed it, as Boney stood and saluted them.
“I’m off to find my own princess. Wish me luck.”
The cop was closer now and laser-focused on Boney. “Sir, I’m going to need you to move along now.”
“I’m a guest,” Boney protested.
The cop jutted his chin. “Move it, Boney.”
“I’m going, I’m going. Jesus.” Hands jammed in his pockets again, he started off toward the river. The cop watched for a few seconds, nodded at Miles and Ingrid, and ambled back toward the square.
Ingrid shook her head. “I told you not to bring him.”
“He just showed up. What was I supposed to do?” He leaned back on both elbows and his head lolled back, as if taking in the stars over the square in the Savannah night sky. He was slurring the slightest bit. Sweat glistened on his temple.
“Fine, whatever.” She swallowed nervously. “I need to talk to you, Miles.”
“What about?”
“About the spell I did yesterday.”
“Now what spell would that be?” He sounded a million miles away. Or just really high.
She lowered her voice. “You know.”
“Oh, right.” His heavy-lidded eyes found hers. “The death hex on Rill.”
“No,” she said slowly. “It was a lifting of the veil of protection. Not a death hex, Miles.”
“‘Not a death hex, Miles,’” he mimicked in a high-pitched Southern drawl, then smiled dreamily at her. “You really are a budgie, aren’t you, Ingrid?”
What was this horrible, sinking fear making her heart skitter and her mouth feel full of sand? “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Budgies are little birds. Little pets.” His eyes bored into hers. “Pets that mimic their masters.”
She felt her throat constrict. “I’m no one’s pet.”
Miles shrugged. “I tried to tell you that you were better than them. That you should take what you could and not get so involved. But now”—his gaze swept over her dress, which probably cost more than anything she’d ever worn—“look at you. You’ve gone and become one of them.”