“I see.” There was a long pause, then Mr. Marrow said, “I suppose, given the missing hand, she was one of the Keepers?”
Missing hand? Keeper? I didn’t like the sound of that at all.
“Yes. I’ve been telling the senate for years they shouldn’t allow Keepers so young, but the families have started to treat it like a rite of passage, mere ceremony. They’ve grown complacent about the threat.”
“Well, now I imagine they’ll realize none of the Keepers are safe.”
The old woman took a deep breath. “Ambrose, I didn’t see this coming.”
“No sign at all?”
“No. It’s as if something’s blocked my visions. I can’t begin to fathom the kind of magic necessary to do that.”
“Yes, but best to focus on what we can for now.”
“You’re right. I’ll know more once I speak to the girl.”
Sheriff Brackenberry appeared from around the side of the mausoleum. He stopped beside the bench and stared down at me, so big he blocked the moon from sight. He looked like an NFL linebacker with some extra paunch and body hair. Not only was he head of the magickind police force in Chickery, he was also the alpha werewolf.
“Listening in, were you?” said Brackenberry.
I swallowed.
The sheriff shook his head. “I would think someone who’s been up to as much trouble this evening as you, Miss Everhart, would know better than to press her luck by eavesdropping.” He paused and smiled, his mouth all long teeth and snarl. “Then again, I guess it’s not that surprising after all.”
His condescension was a little undeserved, I thought. Aside from the night last March when I first came into my Nightmare powers and went on an unauthorized dream-feed on the neighbor boy, I’d never been in serious trouble. Nothing worse than a couple of detentions and a D on my alchemy final last year. Well, there was that incident in spell-casting class when I turned Katarina Marcel into a snake, but it had been an accident.
He must be judging me by my mother. Made sense, given he was a cop. He’d probably arrested her a couple of times before he became sheriff. Mom had been a social activist in her twenties, leading protests on magickind issues, such as when she tried to get the ban on romantic relationships with ordinaries lifted. She’d gone to all that trouble just to be with my dad, only to divorce him a few years later. Typical that her self-serving behavior would be causing me trouble now.
“I didn’t do anything wrong. I swear.”
He grunted. “Like I’ve never heard that before. Funny, but I expected a little more originality from Moira’s daughter.”
“Yeah, well, the dog ate my notebook with all my good excuses.”
Okay, so mouthing off to the sheriff wasn’t my smartest decision of the night, but I couldn’t help it. Smartassitis might not be a clinically defined disease, but it should be.
Brackenberry growled at me. Seriously! He growled. I closed my eyes and pretended to be invisible. A small part of me half-expected it to work. There were spells for stuff like that. Not that I knew any.
“I think that’s enough intimidation for now, Sheriff,” Mr. Marrow said, appearing behind him.
Relief bloomed inside me, and I beamed up at Marrow. He didn’t smile back, but I detected a friendly twinkle in his eyes.
“Come with me, Dusty.”
I stood up like someone had lit a stove burner beneath my butt and hurried past Brackenberry. Marrow led me around the Kirkwood mausoleum, then came to a stop. He faced me, resting his hands on top of his cane. He didn’t need the cane to walk, even though he was kind of old. Silver threaded his storm-cloud gray hair and neatly trimmed beard, and his skin resembled aged leather. The cane was Marrow’s wizard staff disguised by glamour. All wizards and witches needed a magical object in order to use magic, sort of like needing a mouse to use a computer. I was glad Nightmares didn’t need wands and stuff. I would’ve just ended up losing mine—or breaking it.
“I must say, Dusty, one of these days your tongue is going to dig its way right into your grave,” said Marrow.
I sighed. “I know. I don’t mean to. My mouth just works independent of my brain sometimes.”
“Obviously. Though I’m glad you’re wise enough to admit your shortcomings. That’s the first step to overcoming them. However, I suggest you make every attempt to control yourself now. There’s someone waiting to talk to you who won’t be as tolerant as the sheriff. Lady Elaine is an oracle. Do you know what that means?”
I nodded. I paid enough attention in his classes to know that an oracle was a witchkind born with the rare ability to see far into the future. They were prophets whose predictions almost always came true.
“Good,” Marrow said. “Show her the utmost respect and be completely honest about everything she asks you. Understand?”
“Yep. Will do.”
He turned and walked on. Ahead of us, a woman stood in between a row of headstones. She was staring at me as if I were a science experiment starting to bubble over the side of the beaker. Behind her, I saw some kind of magical shield, like a wall of woven light, hiding the area beyond.
As we drew closer to the woman, I slowed down. She looked about four feet tall and seventy-five pounds, but I knew enough about the power of oracles to be afraid of her. Her arms, visible beneath the tight black turtleneck she wore, resembled broom handles, the bones the same width from shoulder to wrist. I reckoned it wouldn’t take much to break one, but I doubted very many people would try to harm her. She had a look in her pale, almost milky eyes that made me think of dragons and other creatures that favored teenage girls for dinner. Besides, she’d probably see an attack coming.