I wrapped up in the chenille robe that came with the house, tied it snuggly, and went to the door. Peeking through a clear pane in the door's new stained glass, I wasn't surprised to see Mol's oldest sister, water witch, professor, and three-star chef, Evangelina Everhart. Evangelina was a bigger, broader, more authoritative version of Molly, a three-star-general version of Molly, wearing a business suit, panty hose, and a posture so upright it looked as if she were born with a witch's stick up her backside.
She was carrying a suitcase. My heart did a nosedive. A cabdriver behind her unloaded two more cases onto the curb. Evangelina looked up and met my eye through the pane of glass. Too late to pretend I wasn't at home.
I opened the door and stood aside. Evangelina looked me over from bare toes to mussed hair. Her lips pursed, censure on her face at the evidence that I had been napping while her sister was in the hospital and her niece and nephew were missing. I grinned sourly and walked away without a word, leaving the door open. Evangelina and I weren't the best of pals. To her, I was the Hell's Angel, motorcycle-riding, bad-influence friend of her younger sister.
I put on a kettle of water for tea, listening to Evangelina pay off the cabbie and carry her luggage over the threshold. The front door closed with a restrained snap. Molly's ward was still up, but it clearly recognized family; she entered with no problem and stepped into the kitchen. Standing in the entrance, she sniffed, looking around again at what was left of the signatures of Molly's broken, ripped wards. I could still smell the burned, scorched reek of energies torn and blasted through.
"No one should have been able to break through this." She sounded surprised. And maybe a little scared. "No one. Even an entire coven would have had trouble blasting through it."
"That was my thinking. Cream and sugar? Mug or cup?" I waved at the table, an invitation to sit.
Evangelina turned her intent stare to me. "Both, please, mug, and if you have a shot of whiskey to go in it, that would be nice."
My eyes didn't bug out, but it was a near thing. I shrugged an apology. "I have beer."
Evangelina returned the shrug, saying "never mind" with hers, and sat at the table, kicked off her sensible shoes, pulled off her suit jacket, and leaned back. I could smell her feet and the odor of dried sweat and worry. She had been on the go and under stress for too many hours. She ran her fingers through her hair, scratching her scalp and yawning. It was the nearest thing to relaxed--or maybe simply exhausted--I'd ever seen her. "I think beer might clash with the tea." When I laughed tiredly, she said, "I'll get some whiskey later. For now, I apologize for waking you. How long since you slept?"
It wasn't the sarcasm I'd expected. It almost sounded concerned, which was nearly my undoing. Again. But I would not cry in front of Evangelina Everhart. I put cookies on the table, on a plate, cookies Mol had baked for her kids, white chocolate macadamia nut. They were still soft, and that fact brought tears to my eyes. It hadn't been all that long since the children were taken, but it seemed like forever. Tentatively, I said, "Two days. Give or take." Evangelina took the plate and rearranged the cookies, not as if she disapproved of my arrangement, but as if she needed something to do with her hands. Her face got more pinched, holding in her emotions, her eyes on the cookies. "Can you tell me what is happening?"
For the second time today I recited the state of affairs of Molly, her kids, and the vamp/witch problem. When I finished, Evangelina said, "I heard that there was a vampire war threatening. Is that real or gossip?"
"Real. I think. The vamp clans have realigned loyalties. Even though Rafael of Mearkanis is the one who might challenge Leo for master of the city, I'm guessing that Clan Rousseau is the one pulling strings, fomenting a vamp war. I'm betting that the political dissatisfaction is just a cover so they can get this rogue-spell to work without getting caught and executed under the Vampira Carta." I put leaves into the strainer and the teapot into the sink, the familiar motions bringing me some much needed calm.
"Not an unlikely assumption."
"What I don't understand," I said, "is why witches are helping them."
"That's part of what I'm here to find out. I've put in a call to the coven suggested by your Leo to meet tonight. Do you want to join us?"
I looked at Evangelina in surprise. I had never expected her to include me in her witch business. "Um . . . he's not my Leo. And I have a meeting with the local cops at five. I think they've decided to launch a special investigation."
"Too little, too late." Her voice sounded weary. She ate another cookie, but I was pretty sure she wasn't tasting it.
We sat silent until the timer went off, lost in our own thoughts. I poured tea, and we drank.
Then I made a phone call. I had something brewing in my mind--something that seemed a lot like a plan.
CHAPTER 19
No good deed goes unpunished