Jilo (Witching Savannah #4)(103)
“Or maybe,” Jilo said, her ire stirring at being told what she was and was not to do, “if this Beekeeper is on my side, I should start practicing magic in a grand way. If you witches are so afraid of her, sounds to me like I can handle any ‘attention’ you all care to throw my way.”
Ginny stiffened. “Of course, that would be your choice. But it might cause far more harm than you could even guess.”
“I,” Jilo straightened her spine, “will worry about the harm I do after I know my own family is safe.” She raised her hand, shaking it in anger. “You’re telling me to hide. To keep my head low. To pray that no one takes notice. Well, I’ve had enough of living that way, Miss Almighty Taylor. Maybe you should try it for a change.” The two women stood facing each other for several moments, their eyes locked together.
Ginny flinched first. “Don’t ever let me off easy,” she said, and Jilo was surprised to see a smile building on her face. “Stand up to me. I’ll need that more from you now than ever.” Her smile pulled into a tight, straight line, and her gaze sharpened. “There’s one more thing, though. Something I think you should know about your Beekeeper. Then, if you choose to use the magic she’s offering, so be it.”
Jilo nodded. “All right, I’m listening.”
Ginny’s gaze fell to the floor, giving Jilo the impression that the other woman felt ashamed by what she was about to relate. “The Maguire family has been influential in this state for generations now, and my family has long been aware of Maguire and his activities.” She paused, her gaze drifting up to meet Jilo’s, an unspoken request for forgiveness. “But we did nothing, as . . .”
“As his crimes didn’t touch you.”
Ginny didn’t try to defend herself or her family. She nodded. “But that isn’t all. You see, after the war, we thought he’d lost all access to magic, but up until just before the war, Maguire was a collector, a practitioner of blood magic.” She paused. “A servant of the Red King, and by extension, of the Beekeeper herself.” She gave Jilo a moment to drink in her words. “Your magic,” she continued, “his magic, are of the same source.”
Jilo’s mind flashed to the wreck that had taken Guy’s life only days after she and Tinker had made a deal with the Red King to save him. She had no doubt the report had it right when it said drugs and alcohol had played a role in the crash. But the paper got it wrong when they called the wreck an accident. Jilo felt certain that in some fiery hell, the Red King and his mother were laughing at her gullibility. Laughing at the bargain price she’d placed not only on her own soul, but on Tinker’s as well.
“My nana,” Jilo said, growing ice-cold in an instant, “kept a scrapbook on Maguire.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Ginny said, again casting her glance downward. “It seems Maguire’s relationship with your family goes back several generations.” She halted, seeming to feel it was unnecessary to say more, but Jilo needed to hear the whole story. She needed to hear it spoken aloud.
“Go on.”
“Maguire. He got his start in blood magic by willingly letting himself be possessed by a demon, a nasty piece of work called Barron. Maguire was the vessel by which the demon was brought from the old world to the new. And,” she bit her lower lip, seeming to weigh her words, “the vessel that carried Maguire was his own ship. A ship he customarily used to transport human cargo.”
“Damn him.” The words came out as a reflex, without premeditation. But they felt so right, so good on the tip of her tongue. “Damn him,” she said again, this time letting it take on the full weight of a curse.
“Yes,” Ginny said, her voice tight, quiet, “damn him, indeed.” She crossed the room to the kitchen’s entrance. “I’ll see myself out.” She took a step, then turned back. “If you make a choice that puts the line in danger, I’ll have no alternative but to act against you. But I promise to respect you. I’ll never ask you to hide again.”
“And I promise to never let you off easy,” Jilo said, wishing there would come a day when she would truly be able to call this woman a friend.
“I’ve seen to it that the disappearance of the Maguires won’t be traced back to you. Now I’m going to head out back and set a concealment spell on that little graveyard you’ve got hidden in the trees behind the house.” Jilo gasped at her words. “You know, the one you’ve been trying not to think about,” Ginny said, apparently by way of explanation. “Even if someone sees those dips forming in the ground, they’ll take no notice.” A smile twisted her lips. “I’m helping you hide the bodies, Jilo. If that doesn’t make me a friend, I don’t know what does.”
THIRTEEN
October 14, 1958
My dearest Jilo,
I do so wish I could have been there to attend your wedding. This Tinker of yours sounds like a wonderful man, the kind of husband I’d always dreamed we’d both find. I can see from the snapshot you sent how deeply he loves you.
I understand your decision to retire Mother Jilo. It’s for the best, I’m sure, what with Tinker being such a successful entrepreneur. Mother Jilo’s activities might reflect poorly on his reputation with other businessmen. Still, a part of me will miss the old girl. The good Lord knows she took care of us when no one else would. Funny, isn’t it, that I still think of her as being somehow separate from you, a distinct person in her own right. May the dear lady rest in peace.