“What are they doing in there?” Emilia rolled her eyes and pointed to the closed door with “Authorized Personnel Only” written on the sign on the front. “I’m bored.”
Betsy blew her hair out of her eyes and shook her head at Emilia. There are a dozen things you could be doing right now besides whining about your boredom. Why don’t you come here and try the aura thing Cary taught us?”
Emilia stuck out her tongue and walked back to stand next to a large banana tree. Papa Butch instructed them not to leave this particular greenhouse until he returned. After the last time Emilia came here, she had no intention of ignoring Papa Butch’s instructions. Leaning against the tree for support, Emilia couldn’t help but feel jealous of the ease with which Betsy managed to extend her aura. It expanded and contracted as if Betsy breathed with it.
“What does it feel like?” Emilia brought her hand close to the transparent golden field, but couldn’t feel anything more than a faint tingling.
“Like, letting go of a pressure I didn’t know lay over my skin.” Betsy sucked the force in and blew it back out again. “Like breaking out of a cocoon.”
“Huh. I am bit jelly.”
“No shit. Your face is turning green, hon.” Emilia bushed at that comment, but Betsy wasn’t done. “You shouldn’t be. You have a sexy demoness who’s totally interested in you, waiting for you to make the first move.”
Emilia snorted and brushed Betsy’s comment away like she might a fly. “Whatever. She only wants me for the power I have or whatever. She’s using me.”
Betsy’s golden field dropped then, falling into the ground as if the soil absorbed it. “You’re too smart to believe that, right?”
“I mean, I’m like a power source or whatever to her, right?” Emilia ticked her fingers. “I summoned her by accident and she bound me to her. She left the moment she felt like it. And she only came back when she needed my help, right?”
Closing her eyes, Betsy shook her head and raised her hands up from her sides. The golden light rose from the earth as an amorphous cloud. As it rose higher, the power collected into a cylinder, back to the original shape Betsy had invoked. “Like I said, I don’t really think you believe that.”
“It’s hard not to, Bets. She’s a demon. And… I don’t know…” Emilia’s voice trailed off with the thought swirling in her head. At first, she’d wanted the demoness to go away, to leave her alone and not to hurt her or her friends. But then Cary returned and all Emilia wanted was to sit her down and force her to teach Emilia every bit of magic Cary knew. Back at the Voodoo Garden, watching the looks exchanged between Cary and Regina, Emilia’s emotions turned into a swirl of confusion and jealousy.
Regina was supposed to be Emilia’s friend. If more was ever going to happen, it was supposed to happen between them. The smoky looks that had passed between the demon and Emilia’s friend changed everything. Now, Cary sequestered herself away with the demoness and Papa Butch to teach them secret magic Emilia wasn’t allowed to study.
It made her doubt everything.
It made Emilia feel like she felt when she was in elementary school and Cynthia’s beatings had grown more frequent. She remembered then the time she’d tried to tell her teacher what Cynthia was doing to her. Instead of speaking, Emilia had wet herself in front of the whole classroom. Not until many years later had Emilia realized Cynthia used magic to ensure that none of her victims could report her.
What if Cary was cut from the same cloth? She spoke of her own master, a demon she avoided like the plague. But Cynthia had a master too. There were too many questions, too many confusion and frustrating emotions at play here.
Betsy was suddenly at Emilia’s side. “I can feel the heat from your body through my aura. Want to talk about it?”
Emilia wanted to say something, to hear Betsy’s opinion, hear Betsy’s advice. But at the same time to speak of her own dark thoughts would only empower them to make them all the more real. And Emilia was tired. She’d recovered from an unknown magical attack, her best friends had been ripped out of their lives, and Max was shot in the chest for helping her. If not for Papa Butch’s help, Max would have died before Emilia woke up.
“You’re just going to stay silent then?” Betsy crooked an eyebrow at Emilia and poked her in the rib. “There are tortures Cynthia could only dream of that I would inflict on you for your silence.”
“Really?” Emilia raised her head and looked into Betsy’s eyes. “Like what?”
Betsy shook her head. “Aside from tickling and shouting in an obnoxious voice, I got nothing. I am basically all bark and no bite. But you should still talk to me.”
“It’s all too much, Bets. We’re… what, homeless now?”
Betsy nodded, clearly unhappy about leaving school. “I think so. You weren’t awake when Cynthia struck through our blood. It was… horrific. Once moment I was there and listening to Cary. The next, Cynthia filled me and shoved my mind into the back of my brain. She was driving and I was nothing more than an camera on the dash.”
“Shit, I’m sorry Betsy.”
“You heard Papa Butch, she can’t do that here. It doesn’t change things though. We’re never going back to that place.”
Betsy meant Mystical Wonders. As terrible as the place had been as horrific as Cynthia was, the Wonders had still been Emilia’s home for as long as she could recall. There was no other place for her to feel the slightest bit safe. The Magical Unicorn Princess sheets Max and Betsy bought her were all back there.
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Cary was supposed to protect them, to take Emilia and her two friends in… somewhere, and let them have a life. All of that was supposed to happen right after Cary murdered Cynthia for them. After she was dead, Emilia — or more likely, Betsy — would take over the shop. She’d put in some more kitschy stuff to draw the tourists in and they’d expand the parts of the authentic mystical wares that Emilia had always wanted. She didn’t mind selling junk to tourists, they weren’t looking for real magic, they were shopping for souvenirs and mementos. But the younger set, the people looking to start their magical journeys, Cynthia made far too much money ripping those people off for Emilia’s tastes.
But everything had exploded now. Part of the shop had literally fallen down according to Betsy. It wasn’t that Emilia had nothing to go home to, the problem was that her plans fell down along with the store. And the fact that her new demoness didn’t seem as interested in Emilia as she was in Cary.
“What do we do now?” Emilia hadn’t meant to start crying. But with Cynthia gone, at least she wouldn’t be beaten for it.
Betsy ran to her and grabbed her. “We stick together, hon. Max will be up and about soon, according to Papa Butch, and when he is we can make plans.”
How was Betsy, the youngest of the three, the real den mother of their group? Emilia choked through her sobs. As much as Cynthia had mistreated her, had mistreated all of them, at least their lives had been stable. The moment they broke away from her, they didn’t even know where their next meal was coming from.
Papa Butch silently answered that need half an hour later.
Emilia had expected to be brought up into the family rooms, where Regina’s bedroom and presumably the others were. Instead Papa Butch brought them down into his basement, a rarity among the limestone flats of South Texas, and presented them with roasted sweet potatoes, pork stew, and fried biscuits.
Emilia and Betsy devoured their food. Until she’d started crying before, Emilia hadn’t realized how hungry she was. Cynthia might not be much of a cook — TV dinners were a luxury at the shop — but she made sure her wards received regular meals.
“After dinner, you two kids can go see Max. He might even be awake.” Papa Butch smiled at them as he spoke. “Ms Cary informs me that I can put you to work on the Wards now, Betsy. Is that right?”
Betsy turned to look at Cary, who nodded. “She’s able to extend her Aura, it’s golden and as solid as glass.”
Regina whistled as Papa Butch smiled. “‘Bout time you girls started to show your real power. The boy upstairs should start comin’ out of his shell soon too.”
“I think they were stifled… in their former home.” Cary gripped her fork with infernal menace, as if she might be able to stab it through the table in her fury.
“Well, that’s fully possible. I didn’t check for workings on them, except for tracking magic.” He nodded to the meal. “And the hexed cayenne in the stew should foul up any blood traces or distance magics anyone might try.”
Emilia opened her mouth to thank Papa Butch, but Cary beat her to it. She jumped out of her chair, startling half the table and bowed to the old man from the waist. What had happened between them since they’d arrived? Cary deferred to him like he was some distant elder long since returned from wandering. After a second, Cary said, “Thank you Papa Butch. We are again in your debt.”
He waved her down with a hand littered with shining rings. “None o’ that now. You paid for my help fair and square and Papa Butch don’t cheat fellow practitioners. Even Bon Malé.”
Betsy cleared her throat and Papa Butch turned to her. “Doesn’t that mean, ‘good bad,’ uh, sir?”
He covered his mouth as he chuckled into his napkin. Regina scooted closer to Cary and said, “Sorta. It actually means something like ‘good demon,’ it’s not exactly nice. It’s like calling her a well behaved dog.”
Cary laughed at that and leaned into Regina. She whispered loud enough for the table to hear. “My former master would be honored at the appellation, sir.”
That only brought on great wheezing guffaws from Papa Butch as if that were the funniest thing he could have heard. He must have had that in common with his Loa.
Emilia ignored the banter, her gaze fixed on the close proximity of Cary to Regina. Jealousy burned in her chest hot enough she expected the flame to leap from her ribcage onto the table and set the cloth ablaze any second now.
Papa Butch’s laughter ended without warning, which drew Emilia’s gaze away from Cary and his daughter to meet his eyes. As if only she could see him there, he shook his head as he side-eyed the two women. A wink later, the child-like glee retuned to his face and brought wrinkles to his cheeks.
Dessert arrived by way of pumpkin pie and cinnamon ice cream. Both were homemade and sweet enough to pucker Emilia’s lips. Cary smacked her mouth and tapped the table noisily. “I have to say, this was the best meal I’ve ever enjoyed, sir. Thank you.”
Papa Butch grinned and nodded to her. “You are most surely welcome.”
“Yes, sir it was very good.” Emilia stumbled over her words as Regina’s hand slid into Cary’s lap. “I mean thank you.”
“You are most welcome too, young lady. You and your group are welcome here for the night. We have guest rooms out back. Max has his own sick bed for now, do you mind sharing beds with…”
Cary spoke up, cutting Papa Butch off. “I don’t need a bed, sir. I will be up all night.”
Papa Butch ignored the interruption. “With your demoness or with Betsy? If it’s a problem, we’ll have to put you in different rooms.”
Cary tilted her head and shook it, as if silently chastising herself. Emilia said, “Whatever’s fine. I don’t mind bunking with Betsy, how about you?” Emilia carefully ignored Cary’s face as she turned to Betsy.
“I am fine. It’ll be like a sleepover, sounds fun!” Betsy grinned and flicked a lock of hair out of her eyes after she nodded.
Emilia and Betsy had never had a real sleepover, like with friends from school. Cynthia forbade Emilia from sleeping over at her friends’ houses. Mystical Wonders was strictly off limits, so it was off the table without Emilia needing to ask. After elementary school, Emilia stopped having friends, so the matter wasn’t up for discussion anyway.
“Regina, be a dear and get the cottage setup for the girls.” Papa Butch waved out to the back of the gardens. “I could use your help with the night watch and watering, if you’re free.”
“Oh, okay.” Regina leaned away from Cary and nodded at her father’s request. It was as if she’d been surprised at his question, which itself raised a series of dissonant thoughts in Emilia’s mimd.
“I will stay up and guard my own charges then.” Cary motioned to Betsy and Emilia. “Thank you again for your hospitality, Papa Butch.”
With that settled, dinner broke up. Papa Butch and Regina refused to let Emilia or Betsy help with the dishes, but they didn’t say a word to Cary as she hoisted a serving tray onto her shoulder and carted it into the kitchen.
Betsy leaned into Emilia and whispered. “I think Papa Butch just clam-jammed Cary and Regina.” A clattering of dishes accompanied Betsy’s remark, which made Emilia suspect the demoness had better hearing that either of them guessed. It set them both into peels of laughter.