Witches for Hire (Odd Jobs #1)(33)

“I’ll ask her to say bye on her way out.” Her abuelo waved his friends away. “Go to the snack bar. Y’all are too nosy.”

Edgar, she thought the man’s name was, blew out his lips. “Bastardo taca?o. Stall too long, and I’ll steal your turn.” He crowded the rowdy men toward the counter lined with large signs claiming gourmet food when Simone could only see banners overhead of fried chicken strips and nachos.

“That’s the only way you chiflados can beat me.” Like an old blanket, her grandfather’s magic formed a small barrier around them to block out sound. He slapped the chair next to him. “Siéntate, por favor.”

Simone sat with her hands laid over her lap. “Abuelo, the Council is dogging a case I’m working on. If I want to make serious headway, I need a coven head’s backing.”

“Why not ask your pack elders?”

“They’re hands-off since one solved lead erased a link to werewolves.”

“Ah, mi melocotón, leaving us isn’t all it’s cracked up to be as you let us believe.” Abuelo sighed. “Back in my day, an offense to the werewolves was met by violence with extreme prejudice. They crossed continents to hunt their prey. A blood mark they used to call it.” He smiled. “I guess we all became diplomats over the years. Why is it your problem, though?”

“I admit that part of it is my pride.” Simone looked down at her hands. “The night Levi died, two energy vamps came after me when I was doing a store run with the boys. Me and a coworker killed them, but I never found out who was ultimately responsible.”

Power surged through the barrier, leaking out in a streak of red. Sharp cries let out as bowling balls exploded. Shocked expressions froze on the bowlers’ faces, except her grandfather’s friends. While the alley’s customers didn’t budge a millimeter, the cheating sorcerer raised his arms. Black ink eye faces unfurled from his skin like ribbons and flew down each lane, pulling images from each person’s mind as it passed and consuming them. When they rejoined Rick’s skin, he saluted Simone’s abuelo.

“Damn, that’s something else I owe him.” Abuelo dropped his barrier and pushed out his magic to the broken mess. Shattered pieces of the heavy spheres knitted back together without a scratch, and any scrapes on the frozen patrons healed. Everyone stood just as they had before Abuelo lost his temper. Like windup toys gaining momentum, the mortals continued rolling as if nothing had happened. “You should have told me,” he said through gritted teeth.

“The Council ordered everyone silent.” That night was the first time she had truly felt covenless. “If I had gone to you and Abuela, my willpower would have broken, and everything that I… that I promised our family….” She glared at him as tears fell down her cheeks. “I will not dishonor my oath by being weak.”

Abuelo’s weathered hand cupped her chin firmly. “You have never been weak. The brujas will back you, mi melocotón. I’ll send a message to the Council.”

Simone hugged him. “Thank you.”

“Call your abuela before the day ends, so I’m not accused of acting behind her back.”

Simone nodded as she pulled away. “I’ll call her as soon as I leave.”

“Not before I do this.” He slapped a deck of cards on the table.

Santa Muerte stared at them with praying hands. A pretty woman’s face painted with white skull designs when you first looked, and then the paint deepened into an actual skull if you took your gaze halfway off it.

Simone gulped. “There’s no need for a reading.”

“No, no, no. If you’re in danger, I insist.” Blue lines of power streamed out of the cards onto the table’s surface, making it pulse.

“Abuelo, I’m fine—” Too late; he dealt the first card facedown. The lines on the table flowed faster. She should have dashed from the bowling alley as soon as she got permission, but she hadn’t been thinking.

Abuelo paused as he put down the third card, frowning as he went for another. After the fifth, he shook his head and winced. “I felt that.” He glanced at Simone, sighed again, and then continued placing down cards. When all the cards were positioned in rows of three with a lone one to the side of them, Abuelo sat with his hand on his chin. He touched the middle card and flinched. “Why are you always so….” His shoulders sagged. “You’re just like your abuela.” He scooped the cards in a pile, breaking the magic. “Eh, not too bad.”

Simone blinked. “So what happens?” Why was he always so mean about not turning over the cards?

“Someone might die, but it’s not you, so I don’t care to change the future.”

Simone’s jaw dropped. She leaned forward, her voice coming out in a hiss, “What do you mean ‘no está mal’? Who? Who might die?”

“You’re alive and well, and that’s what matters. How about you join us for a game?” Abuelo looked perfectly pleasant, as if he hadn’t made Simone’s heart stutter with worry. This was exactly why if he whipped out his cards when she was little, she would hide under a table until he put them away. At least he’d stopped using his voice of great doom. The man could shield her away from her power for months, so there was no way to threaten him. Simone leaned over the table with her head slanted, her lips forming a pout. “One little hint, Abuelo?” She batted her lashes.