“Say it with me, Kailyn. Say it ten times.”
As we began, I noticed that Merlin was staring at the cloud, clearly mesmerized by it. I realized he’d never been with me when my mother or grandmother dropped by for a visit. Before I could stop him, he reached out his hand to touch the cloud. He was rewarded with a shock that threw him back against the wall with a resounding and sickening thud. How many times had Tilly and I warned him about the dangers of electricity? He clearly hadn’t taken us seriously enough. By the time I got to him, he was sitting up, cradling his injured hand, and spitting a string of expletives that sounded enough like modern English for me to get the gist of them. I hunkered down beside him to look at his hand, but he pulled away from me.
“Merlin, I have to see how bad it is.” I prayed he didn’t require medical attention. Without ID or health insurance, he would be treated and then incarcerated. We’d be mired in enough red tape to tie a ribbon around the globe.
“I am capable of tending to it myself, I assure you. I will prepare a decoction for burns and add a bit of magick. I’ll be good as new in no time.”
More magick? It was the last thing we needed, but I bit my tongue. It couldn’t be worse than taking him to the emergency room. “Didn’t we tell you that electricity can kill you?” I don’t know why I was beating this particular dead horse, but my brain seemed determined to vent.
“Yes,” he replied, “you made a point of it. I believe you said, ‘It can kill just like a lightning bolt.’”
“Then why did you—”
“Curiosity,” he said. “I had never encountered a cloud within a building. Now if you wish to be useful, I am in need of some help to rise.”
After I got him on his feet, he went off to the kitchen in search of Tilly and the ingredients he needed to treat his hand. “If there’s anything you need from my shop, let me know,” I called after him. Bronwen had been silent while I dealt with Merlin, but once he left the room, she spoke to me.
“Clear your mind, my child, and let’s start over.”
We finished the ten repetitions without further interruption. When I ran to the window to look outside, I breathed a shaky sigh of relief. The animals were leaving. I didn’t know where they were going, but then I didn’t know where they’d come from either. I prayed no harm would come to them. I was still standing there when I heard the sirens. The cavalry was coming. Although Merlin was to blame, he was a man without a country or identity, technically a man who didn’t exist in the twenty-first century. I couldn’t let Tilly handle it. She might panic and say something that would doom all three of us. The responsibility fell to me alone, and I was no closer to an explanation the police or onlookers were likely to believe. If I wasn’t careful, I could be responsible for ushering in a new age of witch trials. Quite a day—and it wasn’t yet noon.
Chapter 7
I stood at the screen door, watching the animals disperse. Their numbers had dwindled by a third as the police rolled into town. Two patrol cars led the way, followed by Detective Duggan’s unmarked car. I recognized Curtis in one of the patrol cars, but I didn’t know the officer in the second car. Maybe it was close to the shift change, so both men had heeded the alert. Or maybe Duggan had requested more muscle. They stopped near the animal-control van. The driver, who’d been waiting in the van, emerged and met the police in the middle of the street to provide what I assumed was an update.
Tilly shuffled over to me in her slippers, her preferred footwear at home. Soft and unstructured, they were kindest to her feet. Her time in the kitchen seemed to have restored her to an even keel, but I could tell by the way her gaze was flitting around that panic was hanging out just beneath the surface.
“Kailyn, what are you doing?” she asked. “Don’t stand there like we’re expecting the cops.”
“But we are expecting them. Let’s face it, Aunt Tilly. We’re the only sorcerers around here, and as far as we know, this bizarre migration of animals has occurred only on your block. In fact, most of the creatures were encamped on your lawn.”
“I still think we should play it cool, like we’ve been busy inside and didn’t notice what was happening out there.” As she was speaking a large raccoon ambled up to us from the direction of the stairs. Tilly flattened herself against the wall in the narrow foyer.
“Right,” I said, “we have no idea what’s going on. And this fellow just happens to be our pet.”
“Merlin!” Tilly shrilled, causing the hissing and growling animal to turn its masked eyes to her. She clamped her mouth shut.
The wizard came out of the bathroom, wrapping a poultice around his injured hand. He stopped short when he saw the raccoon. “Egad. Who thought it wise to let that creature in?”
“Exactly what we want to know,” I whispered.
“Ah,” Merlin said, lowering his voice too. “Mayhap it climbed in when I opened the bedroom window earlier to freshen the air.”
My aunt’s eyes bulged with disbelief. “Mayhap?” she said, nearly losing control of her voice. “Close it this instant.”
“I’ll be of more use getting rid of this chap,” he countered.
This was no time for an argument. “Aunt Tilly, go close the window,” I said, hoping nothing else had climbed in.
She bobbed her head, apparently relieved that I’d taken charge. She slid along the wall until she was a safe distance from her uninvited guest; then she hobbled toward the stairs. I backed out of the foyer to watch Merlin deal with the raccoon from a safer distance. He fixed his eyes on the creature, who seemed unable to turn away. They remained locked together like that for a minute or so, communing or communicating in some way I didn’t understand. When Merlin looked away, I could tell the connection was broken. The raccoon seemed to lose its balance from the abrupt release. It swayed on wobbly legs before finding its equilibrium again and shaking its head as if it had been roused from sleep.
Merlin opened the screen door. The animal lifted its snout to the air wafting in and, after a moment’s hesitation, headed outside to join a group of its brethren in their retreat. Merlin appeared altogether pleased with himself as he passed me on his way to the kitchen. He’d clearly forgotten about the greater havoc he’d created outside. Or the fact that I would have to answer to the police for it.
Duggan appeared on the other side of the screen door, as if I’d conjured him up with my thoughts. “Hello again, Ms. Wilde,” he said too amiably for my comfort. “I’d like to speak to you and your aunt. May I come in?” He reminded me of a junkyard dog whose wagging, come-hither tail was all a ruse to lure you closer so it could sink its teeth into you.
“I suppose so,” I replied. “Come on in, and I’ll get her.”
I could have flat out refused. No judge was going to grant a search warrant based on the suspicion that we were behind the sudden influx of animals, but I didn’t need any additional demerits in Duggan’s mind. I considered asking him to have a seat in the living room, but the more comfortable he was, the longer he might stay. I left him in the foyer and went after Tilly. She was in the kitchen removing a blueberry pie from the oven. Merlin was watching from the table, a plate in front of him and a fork in his hand. Since he’d been living the modern American lifestyle, he’d gained enough weight to make his burlap pants split their seams multiple times. Tilly always stitched them up again because he refused to wear twenty-first-century clothing at home.
She set the pie on a cooling rack, wiped her hands on a dishtowel, and turned to me. “I know. I’ve been summoned. That man has a voice that rattles the timbers. It’s a good thing I baked. At least we’ll have some comfort food to restore us after our grilling.”
“I think it’s best if we keep Merlin out of this,” I murmured.