Jenks was better than a watch, and my thoughts shifted to the coming meeting with the banshee. Marshal and I hadn't found anything in my books to supplement my aura after we got ourselves together and actually looked at them. But maybe the owner of a spell shop had something to increase "digestive and sleep rhythms." There was that failed locator amulet I wanted to check on, too. Maybe I'd just used the wrong kind of carbonic wax.
"You want to stop at a spell shop?" I asked Jenks. "See if they have any fern seed?"
"Oh, hell yes!" Jenks said so enthusiastically that I felt a twinge of guilt. He was so damned independent that it probably never occurred to him to ask us to take him shopping. "If they don't have fern seed, I'll get some tansy," he added as his wings brushed my neck. "Matalina likes tansy tea. It keeps her wings moving well."
I angled to the small front door, the memory of his ailing wife rising in me. The man was hurting, and there was nothing I could do about it. Not even hold his hand. Taking him to a charm shop was the best I could do? It wasn't enough. Not by a long shot. "Almost there," I said, and when he swore at me for my concern, I pulled open the single glass door and entered.
Immediately I relaxed at the tinkling of the bell and the scent of cinnamon coffee. The soft buzz of the charm-detection spell was a mild alarm reacting to my bad-mojo amulet. I took my hat off, and Jenks flew from my scarf to land on a nearby rack and stretch his wings.
"It's nice in here," he said, and I smiled as he ruined his tough-guy image by standing on top of dried rose petals and using the word "nice."
I undid my scarf and took off my shades, scanning the shelves. I liked earth-charm shops, and this was one of the better ones, right downtown, in the middle of Cincy. I'd been here a few times and had found the clerk to be helpful and the selection more than adequate, with a few surprises and the odd pricey item I didn't have in my garden. I'd rather buy local than use mail order. If I was lucky, they might have that red-and-white stone crucible. Worry pinched my brow at the thought of Pierce with Al, but it wasn't as if I could do the spell if he was trapped in the ever-after.
Or could I? I thought suddenly, my fingers, running over a stand of planting seeds, going still. I'd be willing to bet Al hadn't given Pierce a body yet, in effect preventing him from tapping a line and becoming more dangerous than he already was. If he was still a ghost, maybe the charm could pull him back from the ever-after the same way it did from the hereafter. Ever-after, hereafter. What's the difference? And if I did that—Al would come to me.
A smile overcame me, and excitement zinged down to my toes. That was how I was going to get Al to grant me some respect. If I snatched Pierce from him, Al would come to me. I'd be in a position of power, whether real or pretend. New Year's Eve was tomorrow night. All I needed was the recipe to make sure I did it right! I didn't even need to tap a freaking line!
Excited, I turned to the door. I needed that book. Robbie. Suddenly wanting to be somewhere else, I jiggled on my feet, settling back into an anxious bother. I'd see Robbie tonight, and I wouldn't leave until I had that book and everything that went with it.
Jenks zipped around a display, almost running into me. He was spilling a bright copper glow and I figured he had found something. Behind him, the woman next to the register looked up from her newspaper, tucking her straight purple-dyed hair back behind an ear as she eyed Jenks's sparkles. "Let me know if you need any help," she said, and I wondered if her hair was really that enviably straight or if it was a charm.
"Thanks, I will," I said, then held out my hand for Jenks to land on. He was darting back and forth like an excited kid. He must have found something he thought would help Matalina.
"Over here," he said, zipping off the way he had come.
Smiling at the woman behind the counter, I followed Jenks's trail of slowly sifting gold sparkles. My boots clunked on the dark hardwood as I passed the racks of herbs to find him at a nasty-looking weed hanging in the corner beside the gnarly lengths of witch hazel.
"This one," he said, hovering over the sparsely leafed, mangy-looking sprig of gray.
I eyed him, then the tansy. Right next to it was a much nicer sheaf. "Why don't you want this one?" I asked, touching it.
Jenks buzzed harshly. "It's hothouse grown. The wild one is more potent."
"Gotcha." Being careful not to break anything off, I set it gently into one of the woven baskets stacked at an end cap. Satisfied, Jenks finally parked on my shoulder. I slowly headed to the front, lingering over a pouch of dandelion seed and smiling. We had a little time yet. I should ask her about the carbonic wax.
The hushed sound of the clerk on the phone drew my attention. She was arguing with someone, and Jenks buzzed his wings nervously.
