Dmitri’s youngest sister, Ashley—one of the pre-ritual mass of cousins—called just as she pulled her jeans out from under the bed and discovered that a lemon meringue pie didn’t exactly fit in the watch pocket.
“It’s just Kristen’s being all like totally annoying, and I could come out as soon as school’s over so that you won’t be alone.”
“If I’m still here,” Allie pointed out, using the legs of her jeans to wipe up the mess.
“Why wouldn’t you be? I heard Auntie Catherine left you a junk store.”
“How do you know about the store?”
“I heard my mom and Auntie Carol talking. Your mom told Aunt Ruth and Aunt Ruth told Auntie Vera and Auntie Vera told Auntie Carol and Auntie Carol…”
“I know how it works.” She dumped the pie still clinging to her jeans in the toilet and caught the charmed penny as it fell. As long as the penny was not currently holding a pie, anyone in first or second circle could provide baked goods. Dead or alive, Gran wouldn’t appreciate her plumbing clogged with pastry. “If I’m still here, Charlie’ll be here.”
“Charlie never stays.”
Ouch. But true enough. Allie rinsed the penny off in the kitchen sink and carried it to the fridge. Charmed change kept most Gales alive through college and university. “We’ll see.”
But they both knew it meant yes.
“You’re my
And it was all of six thirty-two.
She looked at the penny lying in solitary state on the second shelf, set the phone down beside it, and closed the refrigerator door. Charlie liked to send hers on taxi rides, but Allie preferred to keep hers closer to hand, just in case.
She toasted and ate a bagel—Gran had left a bag in the freezer—drank a bad cup of coffee, stared out the window at the traffic passing below, and reminded herself that she’d made the decision to come west so she could just cope with how weird it felt and get to…
Coffee slopped over the side of the mug as she jerked back from the glass.
Shadow.
Big shadow.
Big fast-moving shadow.
Too big. Too fast.
Heart pounding, Allie leaned forward. The street ran essentially east/west and the long shadows thrown by the early morning sun ran parallel, so it could have been nothing more than a small plane flying north/south. A traffic plane. Up there to report on the traffic. Unfortunately, a traffic plane didn’t explain the pigeons she could see crammed under a newspaper box across the street.
Or the way the trailing end of the shadow seemed to be lashing.
Her fingers were not trembling as she retrieved her phone. The spilled coffee had been hot, that was all. There were six missed calls and a text message from Katie.
Tempting.
Allie took a deep breath as she snapped the phone closed.
But no.
She didn’t know if it was smart or stupid or just bloody-minded to step outside the store, to cross the sidewalk to the curb, and to look up. At some point between the time she’d left the window and arrived at the curb, the pigeons had come out from under the newspaper box and flown to perch along the low stone parapet of her building like nine small, feathered gargoyles. Eight of them were staring at whatever it was pigeons stared at. One of them watched the sky.
Allie tipped her head back, following its line of sight. As far as she could see, the sky held nothing but a bit of cloud the heat would burn off before too long and the distant, familiar silhouette of a bird of prey. She’d seen more kestrels in Toronto than out at the farm; they nested in most major cities in Canada, adapting to cliffs of concrete and steel, feeding well off the fat-and-oblivious birds who’d dulled their survival instincts with French fries and cigarette butts.
Squinting, one hand raised to block the sun, Allie tried to get a better look at the hawk, only certain it
“Hey, Blondie! Nice ass!”
She turned just in time to see a muscular young man leering out the window of a passing pickup before he was swept away on the tide of morning traffic. Too far away and moving too fast to toss a charm after him. And besides, it
It took her a moment’s search to find the kestrel again, a tapered black cross rising still higher against the blue.
How high would that passing shadow have had to have climbed in order to look like a small hawk from below?
Wondering where that thought had come from, and really wishing it had stayed there, Allie moved closer to the building until she found herself standing with one hand on the door. According to the sign taped to the bottom of the nearest window, the store was open 10 AM to 6 PM Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday. 10 AM to midnight Friday. Closed Monday and Tuesday.
It was Thursday at seven forty.
Two hours and twenty minutes to search for clues…
