That seemed—epically unlikely. But Nadia remained focused. “We need to get more information first. About the curse, about witchcraft in this town, all of it. I’ve been meaning to dig into it for a while now. Really, I’d like to learn the history of your whole family, as far back as the curse goes. Do you have any older relatives who know more about it?”
“My grandmother. And no, you don’t want to meet her. Trust me on this.”
The suddenly haunted look in his eyes convinced Nadia not to argue, at least for now. “So what do we do? Hit the library?”
“We search through the newspaper archives—with the help of the intern,” Mateo said. When Nadia gave him a questioning look, he pointed across the quad, where Verlaine was loping toward them. Her expression was still wary, but Verlaine was taking it for granted, by now, that they would all hang out.
While it was still only her and Mateo, Nadia had to ask: “So, where’s Elizabeth today?” When Mateo frowned in apparent confusion, she added, “Since she wasn’t in class.”
“Oh, yeah. I guess not.” The question just rolled over him; even though he was worrying about Elizabeth being in danger, standing up for her honesty and goodness, Mateo didn’t seem to take any note of whether she was there or not.
Like he’s been told not to notice when she comes and goes, Nadia thought. Like he’s not able to notice. Like someone has stopped him.
Elizabeth walked along the street, staring down at the pavement where the blood drops fell. A couple of times, she heard cars come up behind her, but they always slowed down, steered neatly around her, and moved on. None of the drivers would remember anything about it later.
Overhead the crow flew, the beating of its wings entirely regular; the small cut she’d made should not have weakened it greatly. Even if it had, though, she’d commanded the bird to fly on, no matter what.
The blood trailed off the main road, spattered onto the curb. Near someone’s front step.
When she looked up, she stood in front of the house on Felicity, the Victorian that had been painted pale blue sometime in the past forty-five years. Even with Nadia at school, the outline of the building glowed slightly to Elizabeth’s eyes, a sinuous violet shade—the sign of magic at work.
The mother, she thought. It can only be the mother.
Nadia was too young to be a true challenge to Elizabeth, and yet already she showed signs of extraordinary power. Only a few possibilities allowed that to be true—and the most likely was that the greater power came from Nadia’s mother. She was the one who would have taught Nadia; she was the one who had tapped into her daughter’s potential.And she was the one who would have to be eliminated first.
As the crow fluttered into a nearby tree to rest, Elizabeth went up the steps, noting the slight reverberations around her as she did so; the usual wards and charms were in place, but nothing else. Elizabeth expected no response when she rang the doorbell, as it was the middle of the day—but then heavy footsteps came close, and a man in his forties opened the door. He was tan-skinned, dark-haired, pleasant despite the rolled-up sleeves and absent expression that suggested he’d been working. “Can I help you?”
“Are you Nadia’s father?” Elizabeth gave him her most endearing smile. “I’m a new friend of hers. From school. Elizabeth Pike.”
“Shouldn’t you be in—” The question died on his lips as she brought him into her spell; from now on, Mr. Caldani would be no more likely than anyone else to question where she went, or when, or why. Nadia might be immune to that glamour, like other witches, but no one else could be. He grinned easily. “I’m glad to see that Nadia’s met so many people right away.”
“Captive’s Sound is a really friendly town. Can I come in?”
He didn’t ask why. Didn’t wonder why. He only stepped aside and let Elizabeth walk right in.
Immediately she could tell that most of the spellcasting happened above her head—the attic, no doubt. Good. If the mother were up there, she wouldn’t be able to get past Elizabeth. She was enclosed. Trapped. Tilting her head, smiling sweetly at Mr. Caldani, she said, “Is your wife at home?”
His face fell. For a moment he struggled to find words. “She … Nadia’s mother and I recently divorced. She lives in Chicago.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Elizabeth made sure her expression appeared sympathetic. It was best to give people the occasional real memory of her behaving in a thoughtful way; such memories reinforced her illusions. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It was a natural question. You didn’t know. But don’t talk about—no. I won’t say that. If you and Nadia talk about it, be careful. Obviously it’s a painful subject for all of us.”
“You want to protect her,” Elizabeth said. “Of course.” He was a kind man, and a sensitive one. She could use that, if it came to it.
But she didn’t think it would. Without a mother to guide her, Nadia was all power, no progress. She would never be a serious threat to Elizabeth’s plans.
Peculiar that the mother would leave at the most sensitive part of the daughter’s training—but most people were shortsighted. Elizabeth didn’t suffer from that particular handicap, not any longer.
It would be simple now to go up to the attic and take Nadia’s Book of Shadows, all her ingredients, everything, but what would be the point? Best to go. “I stopped by hoping Nadia was home,” Elizabeth said. Mr. Caldani would never ask her, or himself, why Elizabeth would expect Nadia to be at her house during school hours, any more than he would again ask why Elizabeth was here herself. “I should go. Let you get back to work.”