The lunchtime line at McDonald’s was long, and it took nearly ten minutes to get to the front.
Claire was behind the till, and looked at Val and Reggie with anything but friendliness when they approached.
“You have a lot of nerve coming here.”
Val scanned the menu board. “I’d like a McChicken for me, and a regular cheeseburger for
Reggie, please. Hold the pickles.” She plunked down the money Psychic Bob had given back to her.
Claire narrowed her eyes. “Would you like fries with that?”
“Sure. Um, and a Diet Coke. Make it a combo.”
“Is this to go? I hope?”
“Claire, I need a favor from you. It’s an emergency or I wouldn’t ask. Time is of the essence.”
“Hmm, well isn’t this interesting? The woman who stole my boyfriend is asking me for a favor. Well, whatever the favor is, the answer is: screw you.”
Val leaned closer to her and lowered her voice. “I need you to summon a demon for me.”
She frowned. Then keyed in the food order and cashed it out.
“I can get off in fifteen minutes. Wait for me over there.” She pointed at the tables near the kids’ play area.
Well, Val thought. That was surprisingly easy.
They took the food tray—well, Val did—got a table, and chowed down while they waited impatiently for Claire.
She was more than fifteen minutes. More like twenty.
When she appeared, her coat was on, purse slung over her left shoulder. “Sorry. We had a fry emergency. I don’t want to go into details.”
“Promise?” Reggie squeaked.
Claire scowled at him and then looked at Val. “So you’re serious about this, right? Or are you just trying to make me look stupid?”
“I’m totally serious.”
“Then let’s go back to my place.”
Val stood and felt Reggie tense up. He was on her shoulder now, hiding partially behind her hair. It gave her the creeps a bit, but she was managing. Julian wasn’t the only one with a rat phobia. But she didn’t want to give the little guy more of a complex than he already had, besides, now that she knew rats were supposed to be “pure creatures” it should make her feel a bit different about the animal as a whole. At least Claire hadn’t turned him into a tarantula.
“You have to promise not to hurt Reggie before we go anywhere with you, Claire.”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you want me to help or not?”
“Of course I do. I just don’t want anything funny to happen. If you can do this to him, I don’t want to know what else you might be capable of.”
“To be quite honest with you, I didn’t mean to do that to him. It was an accident.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah, I meant to turn him into a pig.”
“Well, okay. Then let’s go.”
“That wasn’t a promise.” Reggie’s voice sounded strained. “She didn’t promise not to hurt me.”
Val frowned. “Maybe it would be better if you don’t talk for a while.”
Claire first took them to the grocery store down the street to pick up a few things.
“Are these used in the spell?” Val asked after a while, looking skeptically at her basket full of chocolate chip cookies, Häagen-Dazs ice cream, and a head of romaine lettuce.
“No. Why?”
It seemed as though no one understood what emergency meant. Val tried to be patient, but it was getting more difficult with each passing moment. Julian had given the distinct impression the key wouldn’t be used for a while, but how long did that give them? And what if they were too late? She clung to the hope that Claire would be able to help her. If she couldn’t, then Val was out of options.
“I have faith in you, Valerie,” Barlow had said to her. “I know you’ll do what’s right.”
He was counting on her. She couldn’t let him down.
She wouldn’t.
“So . . .” Val said after they arrived at Claire’s little basement apartment. She had just seen a cockroach the size of her palm peeking out at them from behind a cookie jar shaped like
Oscar the Grouch, but was trying very hard to ignore it. “Do you summon demons often?”
Not the most usual of small talk, but in Claire’s case it would have to do. She’d been giving them the cold shoulder all the way back in her rusty Jetta. Despite Val’s repeated assurances that she hadn’t touched the woman’s boyfriend, Claire refused to believe her. Reggie had taken Val’s words of advice and hadn’t said a single thing since leaving the restaurant. He looked a little green in the whiskers. Serves him right, Val thought. The cheeseburger he’d consumed had been nearly the size of Reggie’s entire body. Tail excluded.
Claire was still ignoring her while she thumbed through her rather extensive collection of magic books. Some were printed by current and legitimate presses: A Goddess’s Guide to
Love Spells and Casseroles, Be a Witch, or Just Look Like One, Curse Your Cheating Man—
He Deserves It! The latter looked quite worn.
On a lower shelf, however, were a few less designed covers and spines. They looked very old, weathered, and cracked. It’s through these books Claire was searching.
“Here it is,” she said finally, pulling out a very small black leather-bound book only slightly larger than her hand. “The silly thing hides from time to time.”
“What hides?”
“The book.”
Val glanced at the bookcase, then back at Claire. “The book hides? Seriously?”