Page 9 of The Wolfing Hour

I checked my clothes. My hair. Nothing.

I glanced at Fennel. “That happened, right?”

He nodded.

Cecil scurried up the side of the desk to inspect the melted monitor. He looked from it to me to Fennel.

“Betty, are you all right?” Ida asked.

“I’m not hurt.” I shook my head to clear it. “She’s gone now. I’m okay.”

In a remarkable demonstration of restraint, Ida refrained from making any nasty remarks to Señora Cervantes as she and Fennel shuffled me out the door. Cecil had taken his place at the back of my neck and was making odd, cooing noises in my ear.

Was he trying tocalmme?

Ida drove us home in my Mini. Ordinarily, her driving would’ve had me white-knuckling the dash, but tonight I was too rattled to care.

“You want to tell me what happened in there?”

“How do you know about that group Ghost?” I asked, instead of answering her.

“I’m a woman of the world. Plus, I spend a lot of time on the music side of YouTube.” She swerved to avoid a wad of Russian thistle rolling across the road. “I answered your question, now answer mine.”

She swerved again. I hadn’t seen any tumbleweed on the way in, but the wind had picked up and now the stuff was all over the place.

“After Gnath left, the real Mary showed up.” I shuddered. “She’s terrifying. You were a brave kid to face her down.”

“Not like I had a choice. If I hadn’t, she’d have killed Joyce.” Ida harrumphed, obviously uncomfortable with talking about it. “What happened after she showed up?”

“She tried to choke me, but I got away and banished her,” I said.

“Oh, okay.”

Good. She’d believed me. That was easier than I’d thought it would be.

“So, I’ve got this bridge to sell you,” Ida said, heaping on a heavy dose of sarcasm. “It’s in New York now, but they’re willing to move it to Smokethorn if you give me a hundred bucks.”

Damn. Should’ve known better. The woman knew me too well.

“Fine. I lied,” I grumbled. “Mary recognized me. She knew my name, and she was afraid to mess with me. She got sucked into the monitor and then it melted. Happy?”

“That’s good. Means your reputation as a powerful witch is preceding you. For once, it’s the kind of reputation you don’tmind someone writing about on a bathroom stall. Not that I minded the stall stuff, either.” She was teasing me, trying to lighten the situation, but it felt too heavy for that. Way too heavy. As in, the situation was crushing me.

“She mentioned Sexton,” I said.

“Makes sense. He probably told everyone to leave you alone.” She dodged yet another tumbleweed. “If you think ol’ Gramps is scary on this plane, you should see him in the underworld. He’s something else entirely.”

“Maybe that was it.”

“I’m sure it was,” she said, but her expression said otherwise. Her mouth was tight and the lines around her eyes were more pronounced.

“Does that sound like something he’d be likely to do?” I asked.

Ida had experience with Sexton. Most of it horrible, but, as a necromancer, she understood him in ways I didn’t.

The lines in her face shallowed, and she nodded. “Actually, yes. He’s protective of the things he cares about.”

“Things.”