“She’s doing it because she’s upset. Apparently someone got into a fight at lunch?” I wait for the explanation.
My aunt lifts one of the pages to her face and sniffs it, then rubs it all over her neck. “Perfume samples are so fun. Do you remember when they used to send out those tiny little plastic vials? I used to keep them all and make my apprentices wash them, because they were perfect for a good snort of crushed mummy powder.” She gives the magazine another stroke down her neck. “Times sure have changed, haven’t they?”
“A fight?” I prompt. “At lunch?”
“I might have had a tiny spat with Livia.” Dru smiles to herself, the look mischievous. “I might have tossed egg salad at that mole of hers.” She looks unrepentant. “I know you’re going to say I shouldn’t have, but it did get her attention.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“No, probably not.” She looks sad. “Now I can’t go back to that restaurant for a while. But it really was fun, and Livia can sometimes be such a snot.” Dru flips through the magazine again. “Reggie needs to get broken in anyhow. Best to throw her in to drown, or whatever the saying is.”
“I believe it’s ‘throw her in the deep end.’?”
She waves her fingers in the air. “Same difference.”
13
REGGIE
Dru has a lot of books. Like, an absolutely enormous amount of books. Most of them are terribly old, smell like mildew and dust, and have faded covers, the titles illegible on the old, dark spines. It makes reorganizing things slow going, because in addition to the books, she has scattered papers shoved in between many of the pages. Sometimes the books have flowers or herbs pressed inside them. I found a long lock of hair in one, even, and I’m not sure if it needs to stay or go. Then there are also the scrolls and a few clay tablets and . . .
Basically I’ve taken on an enormous job, and it’s not going to be done anytime soon.
I straighten one pile of books, wishing that I’d managed to put together one shelf’s worth of tomes, at least, but no dice. Instead, all I’ve created is a mess. I’ve started tagging books with Post-its based on author, topic, and language, since Dru has books in multiple languages here. It’s going to take me days—if not weeks—to get everything straightened out for her, and I worry she’s going to get mad at me.
Ben was pissy enough, that’s for sure. I tried apologizing, and he slapped me in the face (at least with words). That’s the last time I extend an olive branch to him. I’ve got to get his components together tonight, too. I consider tossing the entire list in the trash, but I’m already on precarious ground with Dru. I don’t want to lose my job before I get my first paycheck.
When is my first paycheck? I don’t have the stones to ask.
There’s a knock at the door to the library. “Reggie darling, how’s it coming in there?”
I freeze in place, terrified. Dru’s going to see this and fire me. She’s going to freak out and get upset. She’s going to—
The door opens. As I stand there, utterly ashamed in the piles of books, Dru takes a look around, her eyes wide. “Oh my. I sure do have a lot of books, don’t I?”
“It’s all under control,” I promise, clutching the duster to my chest. I cough a moment later, because, well, dust. “It might take a little bit longer than anticipated, though. I hope that’s all right.”
Dru waves a hand, dismissing the situation. “It’s fine. I know most of the good stuff by heart at this point anyhow. Just do what you can. You’re the only one that’s wanted to tackle this, so it’s all yours!” She steps around a pile of books, smiling brightly at me. “But you can do that later. For now, I need your assistance.”
“Oh?” I step over a pile of scrolls clustered together on the floor. “What for?”
“We are going to get my scrying orb out, and we’re going to spy on Livia, darling.” She claps her hands, excited, and her jewelry jingles.
She can’t be serious. “Um . . . we’re what?”
“Spying on Livia. Come on. It’s familiar time!” She trots out of the room before I can protest again.
With a twinge of worry, I follow her out the door. She did hire me to be her familiar, so I guess I need to do my job. I search through the house, looking for where Dru ran off to, when I spot the cellar door open at the far end of the kitchen. I peer inside. “Dru?”
“Down here! Come on down. This is my laboratory.”
Oh boy. I can just imagine. I head down and . . . yup. It looks exactly how I pictured, except there are even more books and scrolls, and dust on everything. My fingers twitch at the sight of a pile of magazines next to a chair, with a wadded paper towel next to them. There’s clutter on every surface, and I inwardly cringe as Dru pushes all the crap on the big table to one end, piling it up on top of itself. “What is all this?” I reach out and touch one heap of junk on the far end of the table, because it looks like a stone tablet of some kind and a writing utensil. “What—”
Dru slaps my hand. “This is my laboratory. You touch only what I allow you to touch, all right? And no cleaning down here.”
I draw back, stung. I guess she minds my cleaning a little more than she lets on. “Fine.”
The older woman ferrets around under the table, shoving things about, and I wince every time there’s a tinkle of broken glass or the sound of paper ripping. “Here we go!” Dru finally says, and promptly bumps her head under the table. “Ow!”
“Are you okay?” I drop to my knees, peering under the table. Oh my god, it looks like a Hoarders convention under there.
Dru stumbles backward, clutching what looks like a crystal ball. “Just fine! Had a little boop to the noggin but otherwise unscathed.” She rubs her head as she stands, and then displays her prize. “Ta-da! Our scrying orb!”
I gesture at the thing in her hands. “Can I just point out that that looks like a crystal ball?”
“Well I would hope so, seeing as how it is a crystal ball,” Dru says, dusting herself off. “How else would you spy on your enemies?”
I open my mouth to protest, and then snap it closed again. I don’t really have a good answer for that, do I? I want to say I don’t have any enemies, but the truth is that I’ve been fired from enough jobs for my obsessive cleaning and organizing that I’m sure there are a few bosses out there that loathe me. My parents probably don’t hate me hate me, but I definitely can’t count them as friends, and they would absolutely spy on me.
And then there’s Ben.
“I guess the question I have,” I say slowly, “is why are we spying on her again? Can’t you two just avoid each other for a while?” That’d be my preference, given that I already despise her familiar. Chalk another into the enemies column for me, because I am sure it’s mutual.
Dru ignores me, kicking the clutter back under the table and then setting the crystal ball onto a tiny stand that’s appeared out of nowhere. “As much as I would love to just leave Livia alone, she won’t return the favor. That tart is going to put a curse on me, and we need to scry and see where she’s hiding her tablets.”
“A curse?” I blurt out. “What the fuck is with you people and curses?”
Dru blinks up at me, as if seeing me for the first time. “Reggie, my dear, we’re witches. Cursing people is what we do. At least . . . the ones in my bloodline. Yours, too.” She digs around on the messy table. “You haven’t seen a polishing cloth, have you?”
“Wait, what do you mean, my bloodline?” I pick up a few old envelopes and help her look for the cloth, but it takes everything I have not to start organizing them by size. “I’m not related to you.”
“Somewhere down the line you are. My guess is that it’s very, very far down the line. All the way back to the Roman Empire.” She tosses a few magazines down on the floor behind us. “That’s how you have magic, darling.”
I give in to temptation and get down on my knees on the old stone flooring, picking up stacks of yellowed newspapers. “What do you mean, I have magic? I don’t have magic.”