Aunt Penny hasn’t been much help either. She said that child sacrifice was a cornerstone of black magic at one time, but it had been outlawed for so long she didn’t know much about it. But if killing one snake meant powers that could cause an earthquake, I don’t even want to know what sacrificing a bunch of teenagers could do for the Chief. Whatever it is, I doubt it’s going to mean great things for the general population.
And so, since before the Black Cat opened this morning, Bishop and I have been poring through every book that has even the remotest possibility of containing information on human sacrifice. So far the most useful thing we’ve found is a spell to combat body odor. I’ve been reading for so long that the text is starting to bleed together and my eyes are crossing.
Our determination from this morning has taken a nosedive. I don’t think either one of us wants to admit it, but chances are good we aren’t going to find anything in these pages. We don’t even know what we’re looking for, and besides, it’s unlikely we’re going to come across a chapter titled “Creepy Ceremonies Requiring Much Human Sacrifice.”
I finally break the silence.
“Find anything yet?”
Bishop sighs. “Nothing. You?”
“Nada.”
I return his sigh and go back to skimming my finger across the ancient paper. Through the thin floorboards, I can faintly make out the chatter of customers and hear Aunt Penny’s greeting as the bell jangles and someone new enters the store. My mind drifts back to this morning.
We started out reading downstairs, until the influx of shoppers for the big Spooktacular Halloween Sale forced us to move somewhere with more space and privacy. But in the short time that I saw Aunt Penny in the role of shopkeeper, I was shocked to discover she’s become as possessive of the place as Mom once was. When a snarky customer demanded to know why the athames were priced so high, she delved into an in-depth explanation involving the price of gold and manufacturers in Scotland that left me gaping at her. I always thought she was just doing this job because she had to in order to keep a roof over my head and her ass in designer jeans, but in that moment it seemed like maybe she was doing it to honor Mom, who loved this place like a second home.
A rattling jars me from my memory. I look over at the trapdoor, expecting to see Aunt Penny emerging, but instead Jessie Colburn is poking her head into the attic.
“Jessie, what are you doing here?” I slam the book closed, my heart racing hard. How did Aunt Penny not notice her come up? She was supposed to be watching.
“I was looking for you,” Jessie answers. Her eyes zero in on my face. “What happened to you?”
My cheeks blaze with heat, every single fading purple bruise beating in time with my heart. I shouldn’t have skipped the makeup this morning. I scour my brain for an excuse that sounds legit, but all I come up with is a mugging gone bad, and I’ve already used that one.
“This area isn’t open to customers,” I say.
“Good thing I’m not buying,” she replies. “And you didn’t answer my question. What happened to you?”
“It was my fault,” Bishop cuts in. “Her aunt called me looking for her. I threw my cell to her, but she didn’t react in time and it smacked her in the face.”
It sounds totally made up, but I giggle and give a self-deprecating roll of the eyes anyway, playing along.
Jessie’s eyebrows pull together. She doesn’t believe us, but she isn’t going to argue. Good enough.
“So did you need something?” I ask, which might as well have been “Go away.” But instead of leaving, she climbs up the rest of the steps. I send a panicked look to Bishop, but he just shrugs.
Jessie sits down heavily across from me.
“Listen,” she starts. “I know something is up.”
I try to find words—any words—but she holds a hand up. “No, let me finish. I called every single music school in North America and not a single one has any record of a student named Paige Abernathy.”
My heart thumps so hard I’m sure she can hear it.
“You’d think her parents would have looked into that, right?” she continues. “Would have noticed by now that something was wrong? And yet every time I go over there, it’s like nothing happened.”
She’s gone over there?
“It’s weird,” she says. “It’s like her mom has been brainwashed or something. And then there’s you.” She tilts her head to the side, assessing me. I feel like the words LYING WITCH are stamped across my forehead. I should have been more careful when I noticed Jessie was on to me. I shouldn’t have underestimated her.
“You go missing from school for weeks at a time,” she says, “and when you come back you’re different.”
“My mom just died!” I cut in.
“I know,” she answers, totally unruffled by my outburst. “This is different. You’re different. And that’s saying nothing of your injuries. Have you looked in the mirror lately? You look like you got in a fight with a meat tenderizer. And lost.”
I shrink under her penetrating gaze.
“Look,” she says. “I know you’re probably going to say that I’m crazy, but I’m not going to leave and I’m not going to stop bothering you until you give me something, okay? I want Paige back just as much as you do.”
Until her last comment, I would have told her she could eff off with her stupid suspicions, but at the mention of Paige’s name, I come undone. I know that I don’t really know Jessie—I know I shouldn’t trust her and I should keep her out of it, even if for her own safety—but I also know that Paige trusted her.
“She’s not at music school, is she?” Jessie asks quietly.
I give an infinitesimal shake of my head.
“Is she in danger?”
I look into my lap, at my callused fingers and unpainted nails. My silence is an answer.
She lets out a pressurized breath. “Okay. What can I do to help?”
I’m so relieved she’s not pressing me for more information that I grab the first book off the stack that I haven’t gone through already and toss it to her. She catches it like a football against her chest, then turns it over to read the title on the faded red leather cover.
“Practical Magic for the Modern Witch,” she mumbles.
Her eyes go wide, but to her credit, she doesn’t run away screaming. She cracks the spine to the first page. “So what are we looking for?”
I exchange a glance with Bishop.