Summoning Pigeons #3
“My Latin isn’t what it used to be, but I don’t recall anything about a Wolf Moon… beyond it being a time of year for when she might prefer to do some casting or other.” Ethel waves her free hand in a casual swooping gesture. “You know how you witches and your particulars are.”
Milo chuckles, but it’s lacklustre. I know he’d pinned hopes on Ethel knowing something. Her hand, its paper-thin skin portraying her age despite her sharp mind, lands on Milo’s thigh, and she pats it in reassurance. “It’s important to you, this enchantment?”
He nods, his smile weak and for show. With Milo’s dip in mood, my wolf presses forward.
“Did you know Bella and I met in seventy-eight at a Sex Pistols concert?” Ethel fixes her gaze somewhere far off. “Yes, I think perhaps you did know that. But did you know that we shouldn’t have met there?”
I look at Milo, but if his expression is anything to go by, then he’s as confused as I am by this segue.
“Shortly after that tour, the band broke up. And the tour itself was plagued with issues. They were supposed to play here, in Virginia, but the date was cancelled because the band members had been naughty boys and struggled with their visas.” She waves the comment off with a flick of her hand.
“Anyway, it was right after Christmas, and I was due back at school for the new semester—in Georgia. And as luck would have it, there was a ticket seller on campus when the bus rolled up that day. So I spent more than was sensible on a ticket and traded a mid-term paper for a ride to the venue and a six-pack of beers. As it turned out, Bella was in Georgia on an exchange programme from Hollins.”
Ethel glances up, then back and forth between us. “You’re wondering where I’m going with this. I promise I’m not senile… yet.” She pats Milo’s thigh in reassurance.
“So, there we are, complete strangers who lock eyes across a crowded space during the song ‘Problems.’ Now, here comes the point—that song is a scathing critique of consumerism, and the dangers of living a life that’s focused on material goods.
How, as a society, as humans, we chase items and things when we could be chasing people and experiences.
And no, the irony that I’d spent money meant for food and cigarettes on a ticket to a concert where I railed against ‘the system’ was not lost.”
She chuckles and shuffles on the bench, wincing a little at what I suspect is hip pain. This bench can’t be good for her.
“What I’m getting at here is this: if I were a witch, like you or Bella, and I’d cast an enchantment in antiquity—Rome, I’m guessing, from the name—and it was so important that two thousand years from now people would still be searching for it, I wouldn’t hide it anywhere they’d find it.
And what are people obsessed with? What do humans always ascribe more value and importance to than they should? ”
“Material things…” Milo says quietly. “So, you’re saying that the enchantment, if it were truly valuable, would be hidden in a person?”
He springs up from the bench, suddenly lively.
“And maybe… maybe, you’d make some lovely trinkets that you’d keep very safe, and pass down as heirlooms to misdirect people away from the real value?”
Ethel smiles indulgently, and my wolf settles again with Milo’s up-tick in mood.
“I’m saying,” says Ethel, as she works herself slowly to standing by pushing down on my shoulder. “That when you get to a certain age, you see it all differently. The most important things we have are, in fact, not things at all. But people.”
She stretches up toward Milo and offers her cheek, which he kisses. “That all said, Milo. Next time, bring something with a higher level, will you?”
Milo laughs and smiles, and Ethel turns to me. “Ranger, lovely to meet you. But I need to be inside for breakfast, or they’ll take to locking that fire escape and it’s my only exit.”
She presents her cheek, as she did with Milo, and when I bend to kiss it, she whispers. “Milo is my most valued possession. You keep him safe in this investigation or I will hunt you down.”
A little stunned, my gaze strays Milo’s way. “Yes—”
“Don’t you dare ma’am me again.”
“Yes, Ethel.” I say with a smile. No, they might not be blood related, but it’s this exact attitude and fire that courses through Milo.
Ethel waves us both goodbye as she heads back over to her winding staircase. Milo moves in close to my right flank, and the strong smell of crisp and fresh apples drifts on the breeze. I inhale.
“That explains the hair-pin murders in the Coven, doesn’t it?”
My head snaps his way. “How did you find out about that?”
Milo shrugs. “Ray told me.”
“Who is Ray?”
He stoops to collect his coffee cup then strides out of the little courtyard and back along the woodland path we entered via.
“My best friend. And local coven member,” he tosses out.
“Of course he is,” I grumble, lifting my face skyward and scrubbing my hands over my face. “Bear needs to keep a closer eye on who you’re contacting.”
I say Bear should do it, but make a mental note to take over the monitoring of Milo’s phone myself. Specifically, to add my number to his phone… just in case.