school administrators, the guidance counselor, the children.” She took another long sip of the sherry, drinking it too fast to really enjoy it, Gabe thought. He was making her nervous.
“Do any of them strike you as the murdering type? What about the parents?”
She swallowed the rest, tipping the glass high to catch the last drop. “If they’d struck me as murderous, I would have told the police. If it was a stranger, they wouldn’t have known about me, would they? If it was a local, how could someone not notice strange behavior or a strange absence? Something!” Heads turned, and Shylah burped daintily behind her cloth napkin. “I don’t think I saw any other parents that day, but you know how details escape you when the day is just normal and boring?”
He nodded. “So what do you do with magic anyway? Are you out for riches or power?”
Shylah rolled her eyes. “Do I look like I have riches or power?”
“What would be the purpose of a blood ritual…hypothetically?”
“It would probably be a summoning.”
“Summoning?”
“Like in bad horror movies. A little blood, the right words, and you’ve got your own demon at your beck and call. The thing is, demons are Christian-based.” She stared off in thought for a moment. “I suppose you could summon a god.”
Gabe doubted a murderer would mind mixing his demons with his gods.
He finished his wine. “Are you ready to go?” He stood up quickly and drew on his jacket. Shylah put both of her hands on the edge of the table to help her get up and almost tipped the table over as result. Noticing the wicked glares of the busboy and waiter, Gabe took Shylah’s arm and helped steady her. Then he slipped on her coat, white and long reminding him of Audrey Hepburn, followed by her purse strap over her shoulder, since he had no doubt she was going to forget it. He once again grabbed her backpack.
“I have to pay,” she said belatedly.
“I invited you, remember? So I got it.”
“Oh. Okay.”
It was like being plunged in water when they stepped outside. Much colder than seasonable for March in Virginia—he knew ’cause he’d looked it up online. He felt Shylah’s shiver, since he hadn’t let go of her arm. The mall was pretty much dead at this time of night. “Where are you parked?” he asked, but he felt sure it didn’t matter—she was in no shape to drive.
“Garage on Water Street. It’s not too far from the shop.”
They started walking that way as Gabe debated what to do. This was his fault, of course.
She tripped, so he put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to him. “Shylah, I can drive you home, but then we’d have to return in the morning to get your car.” He assessed his own sobriety. Not quite 100 percent. “We could get a cab, but then both of our cars would be here. Or we could stay at a hotel.” He’d spotted the Omni earlier when he was looking for her shop. It was right around the corner, but Gabe found himself contemplating his money situation. A nice meal was one thing. Two hotel rooms quite another. “When do you work at the shop again?”
She answered the last question. “Tomorrow. Fest of the Book.”
He didn’t know what she meant by Fest of the Book. “What time?”
She frowned. “Eleven usually.”
“I think we should stay here then.” He’d just do one room and promise to keep his hands off her. He could manage that, right? “You can have a nice hangover-curing breakfast in the morning and have plenty of time to get to work. How does that sound?”
“I’m not going to have a hangover.” She jutted her lips petulantly.
“Oh yes you will.” He altered their direction slightly to keep going down the mall to the end. She was doing a reasonably good job of acting sober, so they wouldn’t get immediately thrown out on their asses by a security guard. They walked up to the check-in desk. “I’d like a room.”
He nearly choked when he heard the price. Should he rethink his plan?
“Do any of them strike you as the murdering type? What about the parents?”
She swallowed the rest, tipping the glass high to catch the last drop. “If they’d struck me as murderous, I would have told the police. If it was a stranger, they wouldn’t have known about me, would they? If it was a local, how could someone not notice strange behavior or a strange absence? Something!” Heads turned, and Shylah burped daintily behind her cloth napkin. “I don’t think I saw any other parents that day, but you know how details escape you when the day is just normal and boring?”
He nodded. “So what do you do with magic anyway? Are you out for riches or power?”
Shylah rolled her eyes. “Do I look like I have riches or power?”
“What would be the purpose of a blood ritual…hypothetically?”
“It would probably be a summoning.”
“Summoning?”
“Like in bad horror movies. A little blood, the right words, and you’ve got your own demon at your beck and call. The thing is, demons are Christian-based.” She stared off in thought for a moment. “I suppose you could summon a god.”
Gabe doubted a murderer would mind mixing his demons with his gods.
He finished his wine. “Are you ready to go?” He stood up quickly and drew on his jacket. Shylah put both of her hands on the edge of the table to help her get up and almost tipped the table over as result. Noticing the wicked glares of the busboy and waiter, Gabe took Shylah’s arm and helped steady her. Then he slipped on her coat, white and long reminding him of Audrey Hepburn, followed by her purse strap over her shoulder, since he had no doubt she was going to forget it. He once again grabbed her backpack.
“I have to pay,” she said belatedly.
“I invited you, remember? So I got it.”
“Oh. Okay.”
It was like being plunged in water when they stepped outside. Much colder than seasonable for March in Virginia—he knew ’cause he’d looked it up online. He felt Shylah’s shiver, since he hadn’t let go of her arm. The mall was pretty much dead at this time of night. “Where are you parked?” he asked, but he felt sure it didn’t matter—she was in no shape to drive.
“Garage on Water Street. It’s not too far from the shop.”
They started walking that way as Gabe debated what to do. This was his fault, of course.
She tripped, so he put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to him. “Shylah, I can drive you home, but then we’d have to return in the morning to get your car.” He assessed his own sobriety. Not quite 100 percent. “We could get a cab, but then both of our cars would be here. Or we could stay at a hotel.” He’d spotted the Omni earlier when he was looking for her shop. It was right around the corner, but Gabe found himself contemplating his money situation. A nice meal was one thing. Two hotel rooms quite another. “When do you work at the shop again?”
She answered the last question. “Tomorrow. Fest of the Book.”
He didn’t know what she meant by Fest of the Book. “What time?”
She frowned. “Eleven usually.”
“I think we should stay here then.” He’d just do one room and promise to keep his hands off her. He could manage that, right? “You can have a nice hangover-curing breakfast in the morning and have plenty of time to get to work. How does that sound?”
“I’m not going to have a hangover.” She jutted her lips petulantly.
“Oh yes you will.” He altered their direction slightly to keep going down the mall to the end. She was doing a reasonably good job of acting sober, so they wouldn’t get immediately thrown out on their asses by a security guard. They walked up to the check-in desk. “I’d like a room.”
He nearly choked when he heard the price. Should he rethink his plan?
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