53 Birdie #3
Ruby chuckles, holding one of the journals before her face, inspecting it with narrowed eyes. “What are we looking for, honeybee?”
“A missing page,” I reply. “Proof that something was ripped out.”
We each take two journals from the stack. I stand next to Jasper, while Dáinn shares the other side of the table with Ruby. We’re all quiet as we thumb through the pages, checking for tears or missing pages.
“Uhh . . . Birdie—” Before Dáinn can say more, a piece of parchment slips from the journal in his hands, fluttering to the table.
Jasper sets his journal down. “Shit, did you tear it—”
“I did nothing,” the wraith growls, hotly indignant.
“Just wait,” I say over them. “This could be the page I saw from before.” Heart in my throat, I pick it up and turn it over, reading aloud the familiar passage.
“‘Upon laying my Alice at last to eternal rest, my heart doth fill with sorrow, and my soul be filled with dread. Oh, mine own Alice, thou did not deservest to die . . .’” I set the page down and nod to Dáinn. “That’s the journal.”
As he hands it to me, my phone buzzes in my pocket. They all can hear it in the quiet of this library-like space. Jasper’s eyes narrow. “Who is it?”
I slip the phone from my pocket and check. “Oh shit . . .” I hold up the phone, showing him the name on the screen. “It’s Howe.”
He tenses, glaring at the phone. “Answer it.”
Pressing a finger to my lips, I tap the green button and switch it to speaker mode. “Hello?”
“Hey, Birdie Birds,” Howe chimes for the whole room to hear. “Just checking in on the progress of Operation Last and Only Hope. Did you find the journal yet?”
I look down at the stack of journals spread across the table. “Uhh . . . no. Sorry, not yet.”
“Oh. Well, that’s okay, I guess.” I can all but see his crestfallen face through the phone.
“I, umm . . . I didn’t get a chance to ask her yet,” I lie through my teeth.
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, I went to the store yesterday, but she was in something of a state. From the funeral, you know? I think Jasper Prescott was an old family friend.”
“Oh,” he says again. “Yeah, awful news.”
I look to Jasper, who is very much alive. “Yeah,” I echo. “Awful. Anyway, she was still wearing her funeral clothes, and she was all weepy. It just didn’t seem like the right time to ask for a favor, you know?”
“Yeah, no, that makes sense. And, hey, there’s still a little time,” he hedges, the optimism almost painful in his voice.
“I’ll see her tonight,” I lie again.
“Really?”
Jasper glares at me and I shrug. I’m making this up as I go. “Yeah, Hortense Hastings invited me out to a ladies’ night. I think it’s just tea and sandwiches. But Mercy should be there. I can try and ask her tonight.”
“Okay,” Howe says, his tone brightening. “Hey, well, that’s something then. She could still say yes.”
“She could.”
“Right. Well, good news all around then.”
Dropping my gaze away from Jasper, I look at the stack of journals in front of me. “Wait, what’s the other good news?”
“Oh, we just got the GPR working again. I thought it was the battery, but Dale was able to fiddle with the wires and got her purring like a kitten. Wanna come up in the morning and watch us use it?”
Snaring my gaze, Jasper nods.
“Yeah,” I hear myself say. “Yeah, sounds good. Nine o’clock at the dig site?”
“Yep! See you then, Birdie Birds. Hopefully with that pesky little journal in hand.”
“Kay. See you!” I hang up and we all stare down at the phone.
It’s Dáinn who breaks the silence of the room, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I don’t like him calling you Birdie Birds.”
Jasper steps in, one hand on my shoulder. “What do you wanna do here? You know Howe’s plans better than me at this point.”
My mind spins as I think it all through. After a moment, I nod, placing my hands flat on the table. “Right. We take the journals with us now.” I turn to the farmer witch. “If that’s okay with you, Ruby?”
She blinks. “Oh—of course!” She waves her hands and steps back. “Don’t let me stand in your way. Take whatever you need. Just, you know, bring them back when you’re done. We don’t have a formal check-out process for the books. It’s just sort of a witch’s honor system.”
“Thanks,” I say with a smile. “I’ll start combing through them and look for anything that can help us.” I turn to Jasper. “But we gotta stop Howe from using that GPR. If he gets scans of the area that show where the burial shafts are, he’ll know exactly where to dig.”
“Can you get to it?” he asks. “Tonight, before he uses it? Can we risk it?”
I consider. “Maybe not me. Even without ravens, he has cameras up around the dig site. I’d definitely be noticed sneaking in . . .” Slowly, I turn to the wraith. “We need someone who can turn invisible.”
“Ah.” Smiling faintly, Dáinn nods. “Right. So, technically, wraiths don’t ‘go invisible.’ We fade into the void—”
Swiping the journals off the table, Jasper tucks them under his arm. “Well, then, fade on out of here, and go break that damn machine. You know what it looks like?”
“I do,” he replies.
“Good. Then let’s get it done.”