Hold Me Closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride [41]
Ramon cleared his throat, drawing Maya’s attention. “Could that be why he didn’t know until now?”
Maya nodded at him. “Yes, it very well could be.”
“Can you tell who did it?” I asked.
Her brow creased again. “No. It’s messy, trying to keep something still that doesn’t want to be. Like trying to wrap ribbon around a river. You understand?” I nodded. She closed her eyes again and concentrated. “When I look, it blurs—almost looks like two different bindings. But I can’t imagine that.” Her face relaxed and smoothed. “Then it clears and I see a necromancer, like you.” She sighed. “I wish I could tell you more, but the binding…” She shrugged.
I stared into my chamomile. “So someone like me did this?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Well, that narrowed my suspect pool to zero. I only knew one other necromancer, and that was Douglas. No way he did it. If he’d gotten hold of me as a kid, he probably would have cooked and eaten me then and there.
“Sam,” Ramon said, “I think you should tell her.” His face seemed very serious. So unlike Ramon.
“All of it?” I asked. He nodded.
“All of what?” Dessa asked.
“I think we’re going to need more tea,” I said.
Ramon filled everyone’s cups as I told the two women about the last forty-eight hours. Telling them seemed risky, but like Ramon, I trusted them, and we needed help from someone. Since they hadn’t yet tried to kill anyone I knew, they were at the top of my list. Halfway through, Dessa got up and pulled a bottle of whisky out of a drawer. She poured a little into all of our glasses, giving her mother a bit extra after she saw Maya blanch at the mention of Douglas’s name. The two didn’t strike me as heavy drinkers, so I took some pride in the fact that my story had driven someone else to drink, too.
“You’re screwed,” Maya said when I stopped.
Not something you want to hear from a seer.
“Yeah,” Ramon said, “we know.”
Dessa reached over and grabbed her mother’s hand as Maya said, “As bad as it may seem, Ramon, I don’t think either of you understands exactly how bad your situation is.” Her strong voice sounded tired. She stood up and leaned on her daughter. “Let me think this over, Sam, and I’ll see what I can come up with. In the meantime, I’ll make some calls. There is someone who I think can help you.”
I thanked her and made sure Dessa had my number as they escorted us down the hall. At the doorway, Dessa handed Brooke’s bag to Ramon before giving me back my medicine bag. I didn’t want it around my neck until I knew what was going on, so I shoved the small pouch into my pocket. Yeah, it made me sort of invisible, but what if it did something else I didn’t know about yet?
Maya touched my face with her hand. “I wish I could be of more immediate help.”
“That’s okay,” I said.
“In the meantime, take care. And, Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“I’d go talk to whoever made that pouch for you.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“Because whoever it is, they know what you are, too.”
I must have looked surprised, because Maya added gently, “That pouch is built to hide what you are—exactly what you are. It does nothing else as far as I can tell.”
I thanked her again.
We said our good-byes and more thank-yous. I studied the darkening sky as we walked to my Subaru, both of us now silent. Ramon didn’t speak until after we had both buckled our seat belts.
“Are we going where I think we are?” he asked.
“Hell, yeah,” I told him, turning the key in the ignition. I steered the car toward the highway that would take us to my mother’s house. “And I hope she’s got a few good answers.”
“I hope,” Ramon said, “that she’s made cookies.”
I glared at him.
“Don’t look at me like that. If we were going to interrogate my poor mother for whatever, you’d be secretly hoping she’d made you tamales. I’m just honest enough to admit it.”
I didn’t bother to respond. He was right. Ramon’s mother was a top-notch tamale maker, and out of pity she’d come up with a vegetarian recipe so I could enjoy her handiwork. They were amazing. But cookies or no, Tia LaCroix, my mother, and maker of medicine pouches,