Black Arts: A Jane Yellowrock Novel

“Don’t dodge the question, Angie.”

 

 

Her bottom lip poked out and her eyes narrowed to slits. She huffed a breath, thinking. “Mommy and Daddy would spank him.” She frowned hard. “And they would spank me for doing magics.”

 

“And would you deserve it for sneaking around and doing things they told you not to? Things you knew they would disapprove of?”

 

Angie took her arms off my shoulders and crossed them, her curls bouncing, and I was reminded of an old black-and-white movie with a little girl actress. Shirley somebody. Mutinously, as if the words were dragged out by pincers, she said, “Yes. I would deserve it.”

 

“I’m proud of you, Angie,” I said, letting my face soften.

 

“Why?”

 

“For taking the high road. The hard road. For being honest and for having . . . honor. Not many people in this day and age have honor.” The corners of her mouth pulled down farther, quarrelsome and confused. “And I have honor too,” I said. “Which is why, because I’m your godmother, if I see you using magics without the knowledge and permission of your family, I’ll spank you.”

 

Angie huffed, watching me.

 

I smiled fully. “I’ll spank you to keep you safe and alive, the same way I’d spank EJ to teach him about hot stoves. The way Beast would swat a kit to keep it from falling out of the den and to teach him to stay away from the mouth of the cave.”

 

“Spanking babies is wrong,” she stated. But she uncrossed her arms and waved them in the air in front of us. And I felt the magics that had crisscrossed in front of us and under my feet vanish. I hadn’t even noticed them until she dispersed them. I heard Big Evan roll over in bed. Angie had been keeping him asleep while she healed Bruiser. Good heavens. What was this child gonna be like in ten years?

 

“Soon I’m gonna be smart and all growed up and using my magic,” Angie said, anger darkening her face. “Damn it.”

 

Without even thinking about it, I swatted her. It didn’t hurt her, but it got her attention. I schooled my face to neutrality. When had my godchild started cussing? I had to talk to Molly about this. But Molly isn’t here. “I won’t beat you. Yes, beating kids is wrong. But now you’ll have a time-out and no movies and no dessert after dinner. Because you knew what you were doing was wrong. And you know language like that is not accepted in my house.”

 

Tears welled up in her gorgeous eyes, wavering and pooling. Horror and guilt welled up in me, but I swiped the kitten off the floor and into Angie’s arms, gathered the little girl and her new pet close, and carried Angie to her bed, laying her on top of the covers. Emotion made me gruff. “One-hour time-out. No dolls, no TV, no nothing but the kitten.” Tears rolled down her cheeks and I forced my voice to soften. “I love you, Angie Baby. I love you with all my heart.”

 

“I hate you,” she said to me, and rolled over, presenting me with her back.

 

“No, you don’t. And if I die tonight, saving your mama, it’ll be too late to say I love you.” With that, I turned on a heel and left the room, going back down the stairs. Some life lessons are hard. They just are.

 

Big Evan followed me down the stairs, his face creased in sleep. Instantly I was reminded of the time I saw him sleeping and I shook my head, trying to make the picture memory go away. “What?” he asked. When I just shook my head again, he said, “I’m hungry. Who wants food?” and moved sleepily to the kitchen.

 

“Jane?” Alex called softly from the living room. “I found footage of Molly leaving the hotel.”

 

Big Evan was instantly awake and standing behind the Kid. I didn’t even see him move. Sometimes Evan was just plain scary.

 

On the Kid’s largest tablet was a still shot of an empty hallway. “Put it up on the big screen,” Eli whispered from the doorway. We were all talking quietly, to allow Bruiser to stay asleep.

 

The empty hallway appeared on the wide-screen TV, looking blurred and pixilated. “This is why it took so long to find in a search of security footage. Nothing really shows up when you’re looking fast, with multiple screens running at once,” Alex said. On the screen, a blur appeared, like four swishes of color caught on old-fashioned, regular-speed film when something fast happened. But it wasn’t fast, it was just swishy. “That was them leaving.”

 

“Magic,” Evan said, frustration in his tone. “Someone hid them leaving.”

 

“Yeah,” the Kid said, something odd in his voice. He tapped his screen. “This is the vamps arriving.”

 

Movement appeared on the screen again, moving in the opposite direction. Three forms, this time. Still all swishy.

 

Big Evan said, “That’s active magic, not something canned. One of the vamps can use magic. One is a witch.”

 

“Angel Tit sent you some footage captured during the gather,” I said. “He said something was odd on the digital feed. Put it up.”

 

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