“Of course you have magic. How else were you able to answer that ad I put in the paper?”
“With a phone call?”
Dru snorts. “Very funny. You were able to read the ad, and no one else was. It means that somewhere along the way, someone in your family fucked one of the gods.”
This time, I’m the one that bangs my head underneath the table. With a yelp, I scuttle out from under the table, holding my stinging scalp. “What?”
She catches the crystal ball before it can roll off the table and puts it back in its place. “The bloodline, darling. The ancient gods are full of magic. And that Jupiter is a randy son of a bitch, so he spread his godly ambrosia”—she gives me a lewd wink that makes me want to crawl back under the table again—“all over the realm. His descendants are the ones that have magic.”
It sounds . . . nuts. “Uh-huh.”
Dru wags a finger in my face. “I can tell you don’t believe me still. It doesn’t matter how much proof I put in your face—you are determined not to believe. So that’s fine, missy. You keep right on not believing, but as long as you’re a good familiar to me, that’s all that matters. Now, did you want to help me cast this spell or not?”
My lower lip trembles just a little. “You don’t want to fire me? Even though I’ve made a mess of your library?”
“Gracious me, no.” She reaches out and grasps my hands in hers. “You’ll be just fine, Regina my darling. It’ll all become clear very soon.” She pats my hand affectionately. “Don’t lose faith. Just like I have faith that you’ll get my library back in order.”
“Of course I will.” I smile at her, my heart brimming with affection. Dru’s a little strange, but she wants to give me another try. She doesn’t care about my past or my obsessive cleaning. She’s willing to give me a chance to prove myself. “I’m going to be a wonderful assistant to you, just you wait.”
“Familiar.”
“Apprentice?” I compromise.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” she asks, ignoring my question. “Time’s a-wasting, and Livia’s not going to hold back in her casting.” Dru releases my hands and turns back to the table. “All right, now, where were we?” She glances up at me. “I know you say you’re not magical, but did you want me to teach you how to scry?”
I mean, what’s the right answer for that? I want her to be happy with my performance, so I nod. I am absolutely not asking about my check, either. The rent’s due in another day or two, but I’ll tell Nick it’ll have to wait until I get paid. “I would love to learn. I admit I’m curious.”
“You mean you want to prove me wrong,” Dru corrects, eyes twinkling.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t learn your lesson from the other day?” Her gaze is all innocence. “You think I’ve got jokers?”
“Jokes,” I correct. “And no, I don’t think you’ve got jokes. It’s just . . .” I rub my forehead, thinking about Diego’s timely shellfish reaction. On one hand, it’s damned convenient timing, and it plays into Ben’s claims of magic. On the other hand . . . it’s a shellfish reaction. That sort of thing happens all the time.
I’m starting to have doubts, but I’ve spent over two decades not believing in magic, and it’s going to take more than one allergic reaction to make me truly believe.
Dru giggles, patting my arm. “It’s all right, sweetie. I want to prove me right. Wait and see, you’ll learn that magic is real tonight, I promise you. Then we can get on with the good stuff.”
She’s so very confident that she’s going to make a believer out of me. I gesture at the orb. “Show me what you’ve got, then.”
Dru rubs her hands together, studying the small area she’s cleared off on her table, the crystal ball in the center of it. “Okay, the first thing we do is we make an offering to the gods.” She looks over at me. “The Roman gods, of course.”
That’s the second time she’s mentioned Roman gods. “You’re a pagan, then?”
“Just because people don’t believe in them anymore doesn’t mean they don’t exist.” She lifts one shoulder in a light shrug and then digs around in some of the cluttered junk. “We need some olives or possibly olive leaves to get their attention.”
“There’s a jar of olives in the fridge.”
“That’ll work. I can’t seem to find my packet of olive leaves from Mount Olympus.” She tsks as she digs around in the mess. “And again, no, I don’t want you to clean up in here.”
With a chuckle, I head up to the kitchen and return a short time later with a jar of pimento-stuffed olives. I hand it over to her. “Will this do?”
“It won’t be perfect, but it’ll do for now.” Dru pulls out a small bowl and shakes several olives and their juice into it. “The gods always request an offering every time you work magic. It’s to show you mean business and to target who you’re directing your request for magic to. Think of it like an address on a letter. If you just throw it into the mailbox, the postman has no idea who to deliver it to. But if you make an offering and invoke the gods, they know who needs to answer.”
I nod as if this all makes perfect sense. I mean, they’ve certainly thought out all this magic stuff. “Is it going to be a problem that I don’t believe in the Roman gods?”
Dru caps the jar again and shakes it at me. “Do you believe in this jar?”
“Pardon?” I give her a puzzled look.
“Do you worship this jar?”
“No . . .”
“But it still exists, doesn’t it? Just because you aren’t sending prayers up to it, it doesn’t wink out of existence, does it? It’s still here in my hand, full of delicious olives.”
“You do realize this is a very weird analogy?”
Dru laughs. “Only to you, darling. Makes perfect sense in my head. Now, let’s see.” She sets the jar down and moves the bowl toward the center of the table, off to one side of the crystal ball. “All right. Give me your finger.”
I automatically hold my hand out.
Before I can see the knife in her hand, Dru jabs my finger, hard, and blood wells up.
“Ow! What the fuck?” I try to draw back, but her hand is like steel around my familiar cuff.
“Over the bowl, please, or we’ll have to do it again.” She drags me toward the bowl, holding my finger over it and squeezing my blood over the olives. “Now we invoke Mercury, the patron of gossips everywhere, to aid us in our quest to spy on Livia.” She closes her eyes, still clutching my hand, and begins to whisper the name “Mercury” over and over again.
I watch as she squeezes my finger until the blood slows and the olives are obscenely splashed with my blood. That is bizarre and creepy, and I’m not sure I’m into this level of pretend. I glance at the crystal ball, but it looks just like some sort of costume prop. There is zero cool stuff happening inside it.
Dru drops my hand and opens one eye, glancing at the crystal ball. “Well, shit.”
“Didn’t work?” I ask.
“Nope. That bitch is blocking us already.” Dru sighs, her hands going to her hips. “It figures. I really thought this would work, though.”
“Maybe it didn’t because—”
Dru glares at me. “Don’t say it.”
“Magic isn’t real,” I continue. “Dru, I really like you and I’m not trying to rain on your parade, but have you really cast anything that works? Truly? Because if so, I haven’t seen it.”
“What about the other day?” Dru challenges.