K Stewart - A Devil in the Details

I slammed my poor truck through the gears faster than necessary, and she shuddered and groaned as I pulled out of the parking lot. Anything less than the speed of light was too slow to get me to my desired destination, so I’d have to be content with what I could get out of the aging vehicle.

The drive gave me time to calm down. It also gave me time to watch for a blue Ford Escort that never appeared. Great, now I was pissed off, and completely paranoid. How comforting.

The Westport district, trendy and upscale, was fairly quiet on a weekday. Dotted with small shops and galleries, it easily seemed quaint, even touristy. The bars and clubs would light the night later, of course, and hordes of on-the-prowl singles would be out exploring the wonders of the opposite sex. You could find everything from Irish pubs and classy microbreweries to sports bars and actual dives, complete with sticky seats and questionable cleaning practices. But at the moment, I had very little traffic to contend with as I skirted the outer edges.

There were no open parking spaces on the street in front of Mira’s shop, so I whipped through the alley, around the back of the building, and into the tiny, oddly shaped parking lot. There was barely room back there for Mira’s car and that of her coworker, let alone any customers. Parking was at a premium in Westport, where the buildings and streets had been fitted together like puzzle pieces in all shapes and sizes.

Around front, I glanced at the sign hanging over the sidewalk-proudly proclaiming SEVENTH SENSE in green vine-covered lettering-and dodged a departing customer as I came in the door. The bamboo chimes overhead clunked together softly. The aroma of some delicate incense wafted around me, and I tried to place just what fragrance it was-something light and flowery. Freesia, maybe? Yet another thing no self-respecting man should know.

The lower floor displayed an assortment of tools, artifacts, icons, and memorabilia for almost every religion found on the planet. There were pentacles, crosses of every style imaginable, Buddhas and Egyptian deities gazing down from any and all conceivable surfaces. The south wall was a fragrant cornucopia of incense and candles, herb sachets, and… hell, I didn’t know what half of it was-smelly stuff. The north wall was devoted to an assortment of cheerfully bubbling aquatic hangings and displays, the gurgle of water a pleasant counterpoint to the faint Celtic music in the background.

A wrought-iron staircase spiraled up to the second floor, barely more than a railed walkway lined with shelf upon shelf of books. There were books on Christianity, books on paganism, books on ghosts and ghoulies, and books on pet psychiatry. If you wanted it, and it was slightly off-kilter, Mira probably had it or knew where to get it.

Mira herself was behind the counter, ringing up yet another customer. Her dark curls were a loose cloud around her shoulders, and she was wearing a lavender sweater over a silk skirt, tie-dyed in swirling shades of teal and green. When she moved, she almost floated across the floor. She offered me a smile, letting me know she’d seen me. “How was the appointment, honey?”

“Oh, fine. She wants me back in a month.”

“You knew she would.” She shook her head with a chuckle, returning her attention to her patron.

Annabelle was not so restrained.

“Daddy!” She came shrieking out of the back room, and I swept her into my arms, holding her tightly. “You came to see me!”

“I sure did! Are you being good for Mommy?”

She nodded solemnly, and I glanced at Mira for confirmation. Never trust a five-year-old’s interpretation of “good.” Mira chuckled as she joined us. “She’s been fine. And you shaved!” She stroked her fingers down my cheek. “You know you still have to get your mother a birthday present, right? Losing the beard isn’t enough.”

I drew my wife close and held both my girls as tightly as I could for a moment. The scent of strawberries and Play-Doh overwhelmed the incense, and I buried my face in Anna’s fiery hair, just to breathe it in. Heartbeats passed, one… two… three… I held them too long, too tight.

“Daddy, you’re squishing me!”

Mira leaned back and gave me a quizzical look. “Jess?”

Anna wiggled impatiently, and I stooped to set her on her feet. “Go play, kiddo.” She scampered off obediently. Mira was still giving me that look.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” It wasn’t, though. And in a world with so many wrongs, I just wasn’t ready for things to go more wrong. “Can you do me a favor when you get home tonight?”

“Sure.”

“Ward the house again.”

She frowned at me, those little creases forming around her eyes. “Why?”

“Just… humor me.” I couldn’t be with her every moment of every day. I couldn’t hire armed guards to protect her in my absence. I couldn’t put her in a pretty box and keep her safe for all time. All I had were the intangible, magical protections I couldn’t even touch.

Mira eyed me thoughtfully, chewing her lower lip, then craned her neck to see the upper floor. “Hey, Dee?”

Her one and only employee, Dee, glanced down from on high. The only word to describe Dee was jolly. I believe Dee was born smiling, and someday she’ll die, jiggling all over from irrepressible giggles, the beads in her cornrows clattering merrily. And there was a lot of her to jiggle. I don’t say that to be mean, but she was a large woman. Her dark eyes were always sparkling out of her equally dark face, and she had a heart big enough to go with the rest of her. “Yeah, Mir?”

“I’m gonna duck into the back room a second. Can you keep an eye on the door?”

“Sure thing!” Dee lumbered her way toward the spiral staircase, and for a moment, I wanted to linger just to see how she navigated it. Mira never gave me the chance, holding my hand prisoner as she dragged me into their storeroom, closing the door behind us.

It was truck day, and there were boxes stacked four high, leaving barely enough room for one person, let alone two. “You know she thinks we’re ducking back here for some nookie, right?”

She was neither amused nor distracted by my crude humor. “What’s wrong, Jess?” It was that “Don’t give me your BS” voice.

I sighed softly. I didn’t want to tell her, and yet I knew I would feel profoundly relieved once I had. “Guy Archer is missing.”

She was quiet for a long time, nibbling her lower lip. “They’re dead, aren’t they?”

“We… don’t know that for sure.”

“But you think they are.”

I ran a hand over my hair, habitually checking to see that it was still confined tightly in its usual tail. “Yeah. I think they are.”

“And the others?”

“Ivan wants me to send out an all-call through Grapevine. He’s gonna come up here, when he’s done down in Mexico.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Goddess… Poor Rosaline.”

“Yeah.” There was no doubt in my mind that Mira would get along just fine when something happened to me. I wasn’t so sure about Rosaline. “Ivan will see that she’s taken care of, and she has all of Miguel’s family, too.”

“Is there any way to find out how it happened? To put their souls at rest?”

I shrugged. “Ivan’s working on that, too. If there’s a way, he’ll find it.”

“I could scry for Guy, too. If I had something of his.”

“No.” Even as I gave my flat refusal, her jaw firmed and I knew I should have chosen a different tone. “There’s no reason for you to tax yourself that way. If Ivan wants him scoped out, he’ll find someone to do it. Miguel’s mother, maybe.” Miguel’s mother was a powerful bruja in her own right.