The Source (Witching Savannah #2)

The Source (Witching Savannah #2) Page 13

Iris stiffened a little and then stood, returning to her work table. “All right. You’ll tell me when you’re ready. Until then I’m going to get back to work,” she said, waving me from the room, dismissing me from the awkwardness of the situation.

The shade of the library had chilled me, so I decided to head back out into the warm sunshine. I sat for a moment in the garden, but felt the need to get a bit farther away. For the first time since Connor’s face had covered the front page of the newspaper, I felt comfortable enough to return to River Street. Most of the people there would be tourists anyway, I reasoned. They wouldn’t know me from Eve. I found a bench by the river and watched a freight ship maneuver the dredged side of the waterway until it negotiated its way under the bridge. I accepted a graciously offered sample from one of the candy stores, then headed back up the bank, letting my feet carry me where they would. I found myself wandering without any real destination, just following a tug I felt. I cut through Warren Square and followed down East Julian, the tug growing a tad stronger with each step.

“It’s a classic five-four-and-a-door,” Oliver’s voice called out to me. He sat on the steps of a beautiful yet modest example of Savannah architecture, dressed only in running shorts and shoes. Oliver seemed to defy the passage of time. His youthful appearance caused most people to suspect that he’d hired Dorian Gray’s portrait artist. He had the flat-muscled stomach, slim hips, and broad shoulders of a much younger man. He was my uncle, but he could easily pass for my brother. I used to think that he used his magic to create a glamour for himself, making people perceive him without the scuff marks of time. Now my witch sense told me that his power had somehow preserved him, aging him at a much slower rate than the rest of us. “I made an offer on it this morning,” he said, running his hand over his new buzz cut. He’d just gotten back a few days earlier from closing up his home in San Francisco, and had his hair cropped close in order to ease his adjustment to Savannah’s harsher clime. “I’m pretty sure the sellers will accept,” he said, smirking. He read the disapproval on my face. “Oh, come on. I made a fair offer. Didn’t use a single smidge of magic.” He held up two fingers, making the Boy Scout oath. “Do you like it?”

“Of course I do. I’ve always loved this place, but why would you want to buy it?”

“Because I’m a grown man, and I need my own space. A space where my big sisters are not constantly sticking their noses. I can’t even set something down in my own room without having it up and disappear on me. And you can forget entertaining, if you know what I mean.” He stood and turned to take the house in. “This place is perfect. I can run my business on street level and live upstairs.” He turned to me and raised an eyebrow. “All business on the bottom, and party on the top.”

“Oliver,” I said, blushing.

He burst out laughing, thrilled to have embarrassed me. “So, tell me,” he said, switching gears without warning. “How goes the magic?”

“I don’t know. I kind of feel like I am standing in the middle of a hurricane.”

“And the Sandman?” It was his nickname for Emmet.

“He’s a huge pain. He criticizes and complains constantly, but he never gives me anything I can use.”

Oliver just nodded. Then he shifted gears again. “Anything else you’d like to talk about?”

“No,” I responded too quickly.

Oliver had always been much more direct than Iris. “Nothing at all?” he prompted. When I didn’t respond, he continued. “Nothing like punching a hole through some itinerant’s chest?”

The blood drained from my face. “How did you know?”

“How did I know?” he asked and reached out to tousle my hair. “Gingersnap, we all felt the burst of power. Wild, uncontrolled, amazingly strong. It had your pretty little fingerprints all over it. As far as knowing about the ‘mysterious’ death of the old man, the story was all over the news.” He tapped his forehead. “I used my astounding powers of deduction to tie the two together. Iris was hoping you’d open up to her, but I understand she couldn’t get a squeak out of you.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him . . . I was trying to help.” I heard the petulance in my own voice.

“Oh really, so you haven’t turned into a serial killer stalking old men?” He grinned at me. “Come on, let’s walk.” He took my hand and began leading me down East Julian toward Warren Square.

“Where are we heading?”

“Home for us to change and pick up your aunts, and then off to Elizabeth for my official welcome home dinner.”

“You know how thrilled I am to have you home for good,” I said as he tugged me along. “I just don’t know if I feel like going out tonight. I’ve got nothing to wear. I’m too fat for my nice clothes. Besides, people are still looking at us funny because of what happened to Connor and Ginny. I’m not up for being on public display.” And if those objections weren’t reason enough, there was also the fact that I’d be more comfortable eating glass than I would, sitting across from him and my aunts without being able to demand the truth about my mother. I couldn’t give voice to that, though.

“Well, I hear ya, but you are coming with us tonight for a couple reasons. First of all, you are paying. Second of all, I am back in town.” Oliver’s return to Savannah had been heralded in the society section of the newspaper, the focus being placed on the success of his public relations firm rather than on any superstitions surrounding the Taylor family as a whole. “That means the Taylors are back.”

The reporters at the paper had been trying to do us a favor by shifting the focus off the recent scandals that had rocked our clan. Maybe it wasn’t fair that we’d pinned Ginny’s attack on Connor, but—as I’d learned firsthand—my uncle had been more than capable of killing. Besides, even in Savannah, we would be hard-pressed to find a grand jury who would believe she had been killed by a boo hag masquerading as a man.

“People can’t talk about you behind your back if you are constantly in their faces.” Oliver punctuated this thought by calling out to one of the city council people who was passing us on the other side of the street. “We are back, Gingersnap. Now, regarding your clothing issue, Ellen has you covered. She has been out all day scouring maternity shops to build you a brand new wardrobe.”

“Not all day,” I said. “I saw her with Tucker this morning. I think she’s seeing him again.”

Oliver nodded. “Yeah, she is, but that situation is out of your control, Gingersnap. You might as well surrender to that fact and the fact that you are doing dinner with us, ’cause you are not going to win in either case.”

“I saw Detective Cook yesterday,” I said, surprised by my own mean streak. I wanted to derail Oliver, make him a little less in control, but it amazed me that my first resort was punching below the belt.

“Yeah, me too,” Oliver said, not perturbed in the slightest. “He came by to see us. Adam figured he might as well pay us a visit sooner than later, since the stranger who died mysteriously is from the family you are marrying into.” Silently, we cut through the south end of the square and continued west on Congress, swinging south on Habersham.