The Witch Collector Part I (14 page)

“You're not that bad,” I said.

“Oh yeah? You think you know me so well after ten minutes?”

“I know you still care about my mom.”

Evie turned, her dark eyes flat and unreadable. “Look, I've been holding this grudge against my sister for a long time and I can't let it go yet. If I find Lupe, I'm going to deliver her to you like a sack of mail. No emotional reunion, no big happy family.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it just as quickly. I could defend my mom later. Right now, I simply needed her to help. “So you'll look for them? I don't care how you do it. I just . . . really need my mom and dad.”

“Before I agree to help, there are some things you need to understand,” Evie said. “If Gavin really is in this town causing trouble, I'll find out, and I won't hesitate to use force. If he's leaving a wake of destruction in his path, I don't plan to be a casualty. Get it?”

Evie opened the mirrored panel and we walked back into the shop. Shelley and Ion stood still, their necks covered in silver chains, their cheeks splotched bright pink. When Evie growled at them they jumped into action, rushing around the store to return the necklaces to the display cases.

“And if you're playing me,
niece
,” Evie murmured as she watched them, “you'll get a hell of a lot worse than that demon in the closet.” She curled her strong hand over my shoulder, a massive ring bearing down on my collarbone, pressing her point.

I
left Aunt Evie my number, even though she claimed to “not do the cell-phone thing.” She raised a pierced eyebrow when I mentioned staying at Dobra Dabrowski's but said that was probably for the best. I wrote his address on an old receipt and left it on her counter, under a heavy silver chain. Evie walked us to the door, Shelley and Ion mumbling nervous good-byes. Impulsively, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and squeezed before leaving the shop, surprising her and my friends, who continued to shoot me incredulous looks as the ancient elevator slowly lowered us to the ground level.

“That was interesting,” Ion said. “And something I'd rather not do again.”

It started to rain as we boarded the L train to Dobra's neighborhood, Irving Park, where we had planned to meet Miro and Vadim. I quietly watched the city roll by through tear-stained windows, Shelley and Ion staring at me expectantly. I'd fill them in later. The train was packed with all kinds of people, regular people with little or no sense of the world we inhabited. Ion and Shelley moved so freely among them, but it still made me nervous, among people who weren't like me, who weren't witches. It was becoming very clear how sheltered I'd been in our forest commune. Here in the city, witches didn't broadcast their inclinations, but it didn't seem like such a big deal to intermingle with the larger human world. There were only a handful of covens in Oregon. None was as sheltered as ours, but we all practiced our craft quietly. Magic enriched our lives, and our relationship with the natural world sustained our bodies and our culture. I was starting to think that it was just different in a big city like Chicago.

The train rumbled to a halt and the conductor announced our stop. We moved with the sea of bodies heading onto the platform. “We aren't anywhere near bad-ass compared to your aunt,” Shelley said when we broke away from the crowd. “Is your mom like that?”

“Nothing like that,” I said.

“My mom says alchemy hardens the soul,” Ion said as we descended from the platform onto Irving Park Road. “When Evie draws her power from the metal on her body, it becomes part of her. Eventually, her skin will harden like steel. When that happens, bad-ass won't even begin to describe it.”

Deep down, Evie must be so afraid
, I thought.

“You can be sad later,” Shelley said, reading my mood. “Right now we have work to do.”

We crossed the busy intersection and quickened into a run as the rain grew more intense. A Victorian house, its faded yellow paint flaking, stood on the corner. In the second-floor bay window there was an iron sign in the shape of a cat, the word
café
in white script across its belly. A group of people our age hung out at the entrance, huddled under a striped awning. They weren't witches.

“Is that where we're going?” I asked nervously. Downtown, people rushed by me, barely sparing me a glance. In a café, I'd be sitting among nonwitches, trying to keep my voice down while I discussed alchemy and Black Magicians.

“Don't worry. It's just a meeting place,” Shelley said. As we approached the café, Miro and Vadim pushed out the door. Miro walked quickly toward me, his gaze traveling from my hair to my shoes. “You're okay,” he said, and I noted the relief in his voice.

“She wasn't that bad,” I said, but he looked skeptical. Did alchemists really have such terrible reputations?

“I'm so full of coffee my eyes have turned brown,” Vadim grumbled as Shelley, Ion, and I tried to squeeze under the protection of the awning. The crowd meant we were only half-covered, and the cold spring rain raised goose bumps on my skin.

Shelley laughed. “They're still a gorgeous blue,” she said, and Vadim reddened, smiling faintly.

“How was the apartment?” I asked him. “Find anything?”

Vadim shrugged, and the warmth he'd just shown Shelley disappeared. “Not a thing. I could hear the dust settle.”

I felt an ache of disappointment. If Brandon could find me at Dobra's, then wouldn't he look for me at Evie's, too? Maybe I had been seeing things and he wasn't in Chicago, but still at the training center in Seaside?

“What about your aunt?” Miro asked, interrupting my thoughts. “Did she know anything?”

“I . . . yes? It's hard to explain.”

Miro frowned. “What does that mean? Aren't you going to tell us what you know?”

What
did
I know? Evie was violent and unpredictable and still angry with my mother and my family. She made me feel uneasy, but also strangely protected.

“Well?” Miro pressed.

“Evie still cares about my mother, even though they had a disagreement and my mom broke their oath before taking me to Oregon. She's still angry, but I don't think she'd hurt us. And . . . she had the demon that had chased me locked in a closet in her office.”

“What?” Shelley asked, suddenly pale. “Evie has the demon?”

“She could have bewitched the beast,” Vadim said.

“I think an alchemist can do something like that,” Miro added. “Or force someone to do it for them.”

“He was tied down with protected chains,” I said, fully realizing how naive I sounded but not caring. “She caught him.”

The sky darkened, threatening a more severe storm. Miro pushed his damp hair back from his forehead. “Forget about the demon for now. Trust your instincts—good guy or bad guy?”

“Good question,” Ion muttered.

“Good, I think.”

The rain picked up and Shelley hunched into her jacket. “Can we discuss this somewhere dry? It's cold. I would conjure up a fire, but I have an audience.”

“The library,” Miro suggested.

We all stared at him blankly.

“Come on,” he said, heading down the block. “I have an idea.”

I hesitated only for a second before drawing my sweater more tightly around me and following him into the storm.

“You're too trusting,” he yelled as we sprinted down Irving.

“Apparently so,” I yelled back. I had no idea why we were going to the library. My ballet flats were not the best footwear for running in torrential rain, and I skidded as we rounded the corner onto a more residential street, the storefronts interspersed with modest apartment buildings and single-family homes. I figured it was better to get soaked than fall on the muddy sidewalk, so I slowed my steps. When Miro noticed he backtracked to me, and without a word opened his dark coat and held it over both of us, creating a makeshift umbrella. His scent—cinnamon and cloves, mixed with the spring rain—enveloped me. I hoped I didn't still smell like Evie's goopy concoction.

“Second house from the corner,” Miro said as we neared the end of the block. “Door's usually open.”

The house was a classic graystone, nondescript except for the wine-colored velvet curtains shielding what was behind the massive front windows from curious outsiders. Miro opened the oversized door and we all walked in together. I tried to ignore how cold I felt when he removed his coat from around our shoulders and hung it on a silver hook.

“Anything open, Roddy?” Miro asked the man perched on a stool behind a counter. The walls behind him were covered in chartreuse wallpaper with delicate black velvet flowers.

“2B,” Roddy said. He ran a hand over his bald head, brushing the scalp as if he still expected to feel hair. “Or not to be. Who's the new girl?”

“She's with me,” Miro said, and picked up the brass key from the counter. He waved Shelley, Ion, and Vadim up a narrow wooden staircase, then his hand pushed gently at the small of my back. “Up we go.”

The stairwell was dark and narrow. In the dim light I could see the shadowy outlines of Shelley and Vadim ahead of me. At the top of the staircase, the four of us stood on dirty carpet in front of a plywood door. The hallway looked like it was in a cheap hotel, not a library.

“There are some things we need to keep under the radar,” Miro said. He opened the door.

My jaw dropped. Behind the door was a cavernous, two-story atrium topped by heavily paned stained-glass windows, the raindrops shining through like multicolored diamonds. Shelves of books ran around the room and all the way up to the ornate ceiling, like a layer cake topped by a thick coating of sculpted frosting. Deep green ferns sat in antique urns, their leaves fanning over the richly upholstered sofas adjacent. The polished oak floors shone like mirrors.

“Where are we?” I whispered.

“The Chicago Private Witch Library,” Miro said, his voice low and reverential. “Northwestern branch. It's not as nice as the one downtown, but they have private rooms, where we can bring books and talk. Also, their reference section is top-notch.”

Relief flooded my veins, and I smiled.

Miro looked curiously at me, his eyebrows raised. “Why? What did you think it was?”

“Forget it,” I said, smiling at him. “I don't want to give you any ideas.”

He brightened. “I actually do have some of those. Wait here.”

Miro walked over to a desk of iron and glass. The girl behind it sat twirling her long blond hair around a pen, her face drooping with boredom. Then she noticed Miro. “What do you need help with this time?” she asked, suddenly alert, bright-eyed, and smiling broadly.

Shelley stood beside me. “Now there's trouble,” she muttered.

The blond girl pretended to swat at Miro with her pen. “Don't tell me you've finally come to pay your late fees. With what you owe us we could build a new wing.”

Miro ducked his head. “I'll bring it—”

“Next week?” she teased.

“Promise.” He gestured for us to join him at the desk. When we did, the girl, this witchy version of a reference librarian, appraised us with cool eyes.

“Agneiska, you know Shelley, right?”

“Of course,” she said, her lip twitching with disdain.

Shelley smiled tightly. “I'll be over with Vadim and Ion by the new arrivals if you need me.” She turned to head toward a circular rack by the door, making a face at me when she passed.

I choked down a laugh when Miro gave me a look. “This is Breeda. She's helping my father with research on unmarked witches. What do we have on that topic?”

Agneiska nodded. “Let me check.”

She sauntered over to a large wooden file cabinet, slowly, swaying her hips. To my surprise, a burst of anger pulsed inside me. Was I
jealous
? Strangely, the emotion felt new to me, raw and unbidden. My face grew hot. When I looked up, Miro was staring at me.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded. “This . . . is all so new to me.”

“Don't you have libraries in Portland?”

I tried to laugh. “I didn't live
in
Portland. And anyway, Portland didn't have anything quite like this.”

“Then you're going to want to see Agneiska in action. She can find anything.”

I didn't want to see Agneiska do anything except go away. But she didn't, and returned to the desk to face us. “There's not much,” she said to Miro, “but I found something that might be helpful to you.
The Mysteries of the Unmarked
. Want it?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Agneiska drew her hand to her chest. At first I thought it was some kind of display for Miro, but then she pulled out a long chain with a gray agate attached. She grasped the talisman and her eyes went from Miro to the far reaches of the library. I felt the familiar tug of magic in the room, but it stopped short before sending me over the edge.

“There it is,” Miro murmured.

A book had dislodged itself from a top shelf, and floated down like a bird into Agneiska's open palm. She handed it proudly to Miro. “Do you want to check it out? I can erase any holds.”

“Not necessary. We have a room.”

“Perfect,” she said through her teeth. She moved to the other side of the desk, ignoring us.

Miro turned to me. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good,” I said. For a second I was puzzled, but then I realized why I still felt okay. “I already collected levitation, remember?” I said, trying not to feel guilty.

“I told you not to worry about it,” Miro said quickly as Vadim, Shelley, and Ion rejoined us. “This is a step in the right direction.”

Shelley placed a book on the desk. “Excuse me? I'd like to check this out, please.”

Agneiska bent to sift through some files in a wire basket. She plucked one and opened it, then smiled savagely at Shelley. “You can't. There's a hold on your account. You have an overdue fine.”