Trail of Dead (Scarlett Bernard #2)(37)
Fantastic.
Chapter 13
As soon as Kirsten got back in the car, Jesse felt a veil of awkwardness suddenly descend over them. He put the flasher on the roof of his vehicle, praying that Dashiell could get him out of trouble if he was noticed by unfamiliar highway patrolmen, and hit the freeway toward San Diego.
“You like Scarlett, don’t you?” Kirsten said finally. “I saw the way you were looking at her.”
“What? No.” He glanced over at the passenger seat and saw Kirsten lifting one side of her mouth skeptically. The gesture reminded him of Scarlett, and, sheepish, he smiled. “I mean, I consider Scarlett a friend, but I’m with someone else.”
“Ah.”
“You seem to get along with her too,” he offered politely.
“I do,” she said after a pause. They were being careful with each other, he realized, each weighing every response before they spoke. But that was a lot better than the hostility of the day before. “She’s young, but she doesn’t play games. She’s not interested in politics, or power. It’s refreshing.”
“Compared to the rest of the Old World?” he said.
She smiled a Mona Lisa smile, not giving him the point. “Compared to the rest of Los Angeles.”
Fifteen miles later, Jesse asked, “Do you really think this thing in San Diego is Olivia?”
After a pause, Kirsten said, “When I was a little girl, my mother used to tell my sisters and me the story of Lilith and the Transruah. It was a scary story about a bad witch, meant to frighten us and provide a moral lesson. But I always felt…connected to Lilith. To that story.” She shrugged. “From the moment I heard about Rabbi Samuel, I just knew this was something I was a part of.”
“You saw the future?”
She held up a hand. “No, that’s never been my gift. It’s more like…when I got the call about Samuel early this morning, I just understood that the situation was my responsibility.”
There was that word again, Jesse thought. “You guys take that pretty seriously, don’t you?” Jesse asked. “You feel responsible for the people you lead.”
“Yes, I suppose we do. Magic is very, very old, and there are certain attitudes…well. As long as there have been human leaders there has been a connection between power and responsibility.”
“So it wasn’t just Spiderman, then?”
She smiled, acknowledging the reference. “No.”
They stopped for gas and a drive-through breakfast a few miles past Carlsbad. Jesse had pegged Kirsten as one of those organic vegan kind of people, but she took a lusty drink of her Diet Coke before he’d gotten his own straw unwrapped. Kirsten saw his glance and admitted, “I know it’s terrible for you, but I can’t help it. It’s so good.” He laughed, feeling for the first time like she was a regular person. She looked down at the cup holders, which both held various paraphernalia from Jesse’s work. “Where should I—”
“Oh, let me just clear this crap.” Steering with one hand, he reached over to take her drink just as she reached toward him, and Jesse managed to knock the drink into her stomach. The lid popped off and soda splashed across her corduroy pants and white shirt. Jesse pulled the car over and threw it in park. “Shit! I’m so sorry! Should we stop at a bathroom, or…”
“It’s all right,” Kirsten said calmly. “Just a moment.”
She glanced around, and then whispered something under her breath, touching the stain with her index finger. Jesse’s jaw dropped open as the brown liquid seemed to adhere itself to the tip of her finger. Kirsten raised her hand, drawing a fat stream of soda into the air, and moved the cup under it. She lowered her finger until the brown stream sank back into the cup. As she settled it carefully into the cup holder, Jesse saw her clothes were clean. She brushed a couple of ice cubes onto the floor and smiled at him, a little shyly.
“That was…that was so cool,” Jesse whispered, suddenly feeling outclassed. It was the first actual witchcraft he’d seen, aside from the little dancing saltshaker.
Kirsten gave an elegant shrug. “Saves on the laundry bills, is all,” she said modestly.
“I bet.” Jesse checked his mirrors and pulled into traffic to get back onto the highway. “If you don’t mind me asking, you said you don’t deal in the future, but I’m sort of getting the impression that witches specialize in something. So…what kind of witch are you?”
She was quiet for a long few minutes, and Jesse realized she was deciding whether or not to trust him. “I’m sorry, that’s probably too personal. Please forget that I asked.”
Kirsten was silent for another few seconds, until she said, “It’s all right. That’s a perfectly natural question, it’s just been a long time since I’ve been asked. I’m what’s called a trades witch.”
“Trades…”
She picked the resurrected soda up and took another sip. “It’s an expression; it comes from the phrase ‘jack-of-all-trades.’ It just means that I do a little of everything. I don’t mess with the future, and I don’t read minds. But other than that…” She shrugged.
“I still don’t really get it,” Jesse admitted. “I mean, I know you explained about being a conduit, but I don’t understand how you use magic to fix your clothes or…fly on a broomstick, or whatever.” She looked a little irritated at the broomstick comment but didn’t say anything. Jesse suddenly realized he’d put her in the position of being his own personal magical advisor, which was rude. “I’m sorry, is this completely annoying? Am I asking too many questions?”