Page 2 of Witch and Tell

How I felt her pain. “Let’s start at the beginning. When did he start to shut down? Or did it happen all at once?”

She drew a long breath. “Three days ago. I’ve thought about it over and over. We were at Darla’s Café, and he was in the middle of relating some old doctor’s theory of garden fairies when he went blank.” Lalena’s expression froze as she mimicked Ian’s face. “Mid-sentence. It was so weird, as if he’d seen a ghost.” She contemplated this a moment. “Bad comparison, since he’d be psyched to see a ghost. Anyway, you know what I mean. We finished dinner, but something had changed.”

“That doesn’t sound like him.”

“It gets worse,” she said. “We had a date the next day to hit up some estate sales for books. He never showed. Then I got this message.” She lifted her phone. “I had a client, so I couldn’t pick up. Raylene Burns, you know, from the feed store. She has a new beau and needed a psychic consultation.”

I nodded. Raylene’s romantic exploits were conversational fodder around town. Word was, she had her eye on the horse supplements salesman. “Was it something Ian was talking about? Or saw at the café?”

She lifted Sailor to her lap. “I don’t think so. There was nothing around us but diners. The regulars, plus a few construction workers from the renovation at the Empress.” Her shoulders fell. “Oh, Josie. I don’t know what to do. I’m worried. What if something happened to him?”

Our tumblers of iced tea had turned lukewarm, and condensation puddled on the tabletop. I turned the glass in my hand and nodded across the trailer park. “His van is still in his driveway, so he couldn’t have gone far. Maybe he took a cab to the airport for an emergency trip home. Lots of cab companies have vans that accommodate wheelchairs. Have you been in touch with his family?”

“I haven’t met them.”

“We could track them down. Where’s Ian from?”

She hesitated a moment before saying, “I don’t know. The East Coast somewhere.”

That much I’d gathered from his accent. Although my research skills were good, they weren’t good enough to query the entire eastern seaboard. Lalena’s mournful expression led me to add, “I wish there was something I could do for you.”

She pushed her tarot cards into a pile. “There is something you could do. You could look for him. Would you do that?” She bit her lip. “I’m . . . I’m embarrassed to ask myself, and I’m worried.”

And hurt. I got that. “Sure. I’ll ask if anyone’s seen him lately. I bet it’s all a simple misunderstanding.”

“I’d appreciate it so much. Thank you.” She gathered the tarot cards. “Mostly, I want to know he’s okay. But, if he is, could you find out why he’s been out of touch?”

This part I was less comfortable with. “What if it’s personal? It should be you who talks to him.”

The hurt in her eyes was palpable. “And say what?”

I understood. I relented. “All right. But I’m not digging too deeply. If he doesn’t want to talk, I’m not pushing it.”

“You’re a good friend, Josie.” She set Sailor on the floor and came to my side of the table. “Stand up. I want to give you a hug.”

Crushed in Lalena’s arms, I glanced at the couch, where Rodney stared with unblinking amber eyes, seem ing to say,Good luck with this one.

Chapter Two

As I left Lalena’s, I decided that now was as good a time as any to buttonhole Ian. It was Sunday, my day off, and other than a trip to the P.O. Grocery to stock my refrigerator, the day was open.

I hadn’t said anything to Lalena, but I wondered how well she really knew Ian. He wouldn’t talk about his life before coming to Wilfred, and I wasn’t the only person who’d noticed his trick of changing the conversation when it ventured into his past.

I understood Lalena’s draw to him. When he smiled, his demeanor became almost childlike. His eyes warmed from onyx black to tiger’s-eye brown, and friendly lines appeared. His laughter was goofy, and he ordered glasses of milk at the tavern. Orson, the bartender, kept a gallon of two percent at the ready for him.

I hadn’t always felt that way about Ian. His usual expression was impassive, unreadable. My magic came from books—they talked to me—and although most of the books Ian sold sang Gregorian chants and lectured on divination, a few had hissed and crackled in a way that sent prickles down my arms.

That is, if the books spoke at all. Something had been interfering with my magic lately. Instead of the books’ clear voices, their messages often came through with static. Sometimes I couldn’t even make them out. It worried me.

One thing I could do now, though, was to help Lalena. Chances were good that if Ian was in town, he’d be at the This-N-That antiques mall. Most of the other dealers stocked their booths after hours, but Ian kept a corner of his area free for a small desk where he filled internet orders and chatted with customers.

The bell at the This-N-That’s door chimed as I opened it. The ceiling fan rippled my hair.

“Welcome, Josie,” Thor said from his seat on the counter. He threw back the edge of the cape he habitually wore, even to elementary school.

“Where’s your eyepatch?” I asked. Despite having two working eyes, Thor wore his eyepatch everywhere.

“Buffy broke the elastic, and Grandma won’t buy me a new one.”