I turned away from my contemplation and took my mom’s hands in my own. “So,” I began. “I think you should spend a night or two with me at the hotel I’m staying at.”
I glanced down the street and saw no sign of my father. Oh, thank Christ. I reached up and rubbed my face where he had punched me.
“Ha!” Alice said. “I knew you were pretending!”
My mom was watching me with wide eyes. “Did he hurt you?”
“I mean, it’s not terrible,” I said, stretching my mouth into a wide O shape to move the skin on my cheek. “But he still hits like a train, and I stupidly let him like a moron initiating some form of cave-man dick-waving contest.”
I finished rubbing my face. Will it bruise? Likely. Hopefully not too bad. “But you should probably make yourself scarce for a day or two. Or, I dunno, leave him.”
“Y-you’re probably right,” she said, looking over her shoulder to where he had been. “He’ll need a while to calm down.”
Okay, not acknowledging the permanent solution. Like always.
I turned to Alice. “You know a tracking spell? I haven’t figured one out yet with Circe’s method.”
“You should have just gone with the Bulwark,” Alice muttered. “And of course,” she added, more brightly. “I’ve been doing this since I could walk.” She finished by sticking her tongue at me when she saw what I was doing.
It was an argument we’ve had before so I was already making puppet motions with my hand when she made her comment. I winked at my mom. Alice gave my mom a kind smile before grabbing Tony and heading back to the main house—or what I assumed was the main house, as it was where the party was.
“Liam,” My mom said, pulling my attention back to her. “What is… what is all this talk of spells?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know what you want to hear, Mom,” I said bluntly. “It’s pretty clear from context and evidence.” I waved to the scorch mark on the ground, amidst the strange chalk designs. “I do magic.”
“What?” She asked, her voice raising an octave. “You mean, like—“ she made a “mystical” motion with her hands, with lots of finger movement.
“Most spells I'm familiar with don't require hand movements, but yeah, you got it,” I said as I took her hands in mine, rubbing my thumbs over her knuckles. “I’m going to ask that you have patience and hold back on all those questions that are no doubt begging to be asked. I’m going to be focusing on finding Conner and I want to devote all of my attention to that. Can we table this discussion until things calm down?”
“I—I don’t know if I can,” she asked, a slight quaver in her voice.
“Do your best,” I said. “Are you hungry? I’ll ask Maria to whip you up a plate.”
“Oh, I don’t know if I could—“ she said, but I was already steering her towards the house.
When we got to the kitchen, it was a tornado of well-ordered chaos. A constant stream of people were moving in and out, dodging each other like a dance that was only rehearsed once but still worked flawlessly. I tried to spot Maria and was surprised when she showed up in front of me when two people parted for her.
“Ah!” Maria said upon seeing us. She turned and started shooing one of the younger men (Angel I think?) out of his seat at the dining table. “Go make yourself useful and make a plate for our guest.” She turned toward us, offering the seat to my mom. “Please, please make yourself comfortable.”
“Oh, I don’t know how long I’ll be staying—“ my mom said, but didn’t resist as I guided her into the chair.
I caught Maria’s eye and leaned down to talk into her ear, the noise of the party masking my voice. “She knows me as Liam, she’s public, and she saw me do magic for the first time five minutes ago.”
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“Yes, yes,” she said, pointing in the direction of the hallway. “I’ll keep an eye on her niño. Alice went downstairs to prepare the spell. Second door past the bathroom.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” I said with an exhale. She patted my arm with a smile before beginning to engage my mom in conversation, pointing out her children and telling little anecdotes about them. I tugged a couple of hairs out of my mom's bun while she was distracted and made my exit. As I walked away the kid came back with a plate of food and I caught my mom’s wide-eyed expression at the variety.
* * *
When Maria had called it “the basement,” I had a few images pop into my head. Most were of the normal residential basements I’ve seen in movies and TV, the most prominent one being from the movie Signs which a good portion of the third act takes place in. Having grown up in Southern California, I haven’t been into many basements (we don’t like them out here for some reason). Another part of me had imagined, being a dynasty of part-demon practitioners, the basement would be a medieval torture dungeon with glowing symbols carved into the walls.
But instead, it was… You ever see those videos of rug cleaners on the internet? Or auto detailers? The room was built on a slight incline, with white polished floors of some synthetic, plastic-y-looking material I wasn’t familiar with. Where the floor met the far wall, it turned into a drainage grate. The walls were lined with what looked like cold lockers from a morgue. A metal table was pushed up against one of the walls.
Aside from that, it was barren.
Alice and Tony were by one of the opened lockers, but I couldn’t see inside from where I was on the stairs. I caught their conversation, muttered quietly between each other. If I hadn’t improved my hearing I doubt I would have been able to hear it.
“Just use a needle,” Tony said. “It’s just as good.”
“Would you use a needle if it were me?” Alice asked sharply. “It’s his brother.”
Tony’s silence was his answer.
I descended cautiously, experiencing mild surprise when the white floor wasn’t slippery under my boots. I crossed the room to where they were huddled, a fragile smile appearing on my face when I saw what was in the locker.
Shelves! Moving shelves, as you might see in a tackle box, but sized up to fit in the locker. They were also on a moving slab like you’d find in a morgue. Alice was pawing through the multitude of shelves, some holding dust, some various dried plants, while a whole section seemed to hold as many different types of writing implements that could be found. Here and there were odd bits of metal, the needles Tony mentioned… were those the hands of a watch? A whole little tray filled with watch hands. Huh.
“Aha!” Alice said, pulling the shelves out of a locker a little more to show a mostly empty tray. She reached in and pulled out what looked like… a watch hand. “Told you we still had some.”
Tony rolled his eyes and turned to me. “Hey man,” he said. “How’s your mom doing?”
“She’s fine,” I said, then: “I think. I sat her down with Maria and food and hopefully, the normalcy of the party will keep her distracted long enough to stop her from wondering why her son is wearing gloves or why he can conjure fire with his mind.” I pointed at the tray of watch hands. “Why not use those?”
Alice looked up from the small item in her hand. “Those are watch hands,” she said as she raised the item in her hand. “This is the arm of a compass.”
Ah. Yeah, that would work much better for a tracking spell. I held up the hairs I’d been clutching between my thumb and index. Alice took them. “No more blood?”
I snorted. “She nearly fainted the first time,” I said. “I didn’t have the heart to ask for more.”
Alice nodded. “This should be fine,” she said. “I just like using blood for precision.”
I watched as Alice began tying the hairs to the compass arm, as Tony pushed the shelves back into the locker. Alice began muttering something in Latin, tying the hairs in a knot on the “north” part of the arm. As she worked her voice became more distinct, until she let go of the compass. It floated in front of her, spinning this way and that.
“Quaerite,” Alice said, her voice echoing strangely in the room.
The compass arm spun.
And spun.
And continued to spin.
Alice looked at me, her eyes wide.
“FUCK!” I said.
Unless Conner had died in the time since I cast the spell upstairs…
Someone was hiding him. Someone who knew magic.
“FUCK!” I repeated.