Summoning the Night (Arcadia Bell #2)(15)

At the very bottom, below the paperwork, was a blue velvet ring box. Inside lay a small metal key about two inches long on a tarnished silver chain with a broken clasp. Dare said he’d found it at Bishop’s house beneath the kitchen table after they’d discovered Bishop missing. Dare and Lon’s father had searched the place for anything it could’ve possible fit, but came up empty.

None of this seemed useful in helping us locate Bishop, and to add to our frustration, Dare suspected the man had done some sort of cloaking magick in the ’80s, so he might be hard to find using normal methods today. Normal methods for me meant constructing a magical servitor—a roving ball of energy that fetched information. However, the last time I used a servitor to find another magician, it came back and bit me on the ass, and that’s when Jupe got hurt and kidnapped. I didn’t want to take that chance again until I was able to teach myself more advanced servitor techniques. Better to exhaust other methods first.

Lon put his SUV in gear and jerked the wheel to head down the long driveway. We stopped in front of the entrance gate and waited for one of Dare’s employees to open it and let us through.

“You didn’t tell Dare about my Moonchild ability, right?” I said.

The iron gates ground open in a slow arc as Lon fished his valrivia case out of his jacket pocket and speared me with an irritated glance. That was a no. A small relief.

I took one of the hand-rolled herbal cigarettes he offered. “I just don’t understand why he assumes I can banish an Earthbound. No one can. Unless you can find a way to travel in time to the Roanoke Colony,” I said with sarcasm. “Then maybe you could locate the magician who conjured your demon ancestors from the Æthyr and shoved them into their original human bodies.”

Lon lit up and passed me the lighter. I cracked the window as he headed out of the estate and onto the main road. “Seems to me you’ve banished all sorts of things you haven’t conjured lately.”

Sure, things in their original Æthyric bodies, like imps. Not humans or Earthbound demons in human bodies. Then again, my human parents had been sent into the Æthyr . . . but I hadn’t banished them outright—an Æthyric demon named Nivella took them. I just gave Nivella permission. It occurred to me, of course, that I might bargain with another Æthyric into taking Bishop if we were able to find him, but I didn’t say it out loud.

“Earthbounds can’t be separated,” I argued stubbornly. “Your demon nature has integrated with your human DNA. It would be like asking me to separate soul from body. Unless I could piece together some sort of antispell for the original Roanoke Invocation—which has been lost for hundreds of years—it’s a no-go. I’ve got skills, but I’m not God.”

“All I’m saying is that you don’t really know the extent of the Moonchild ability. You haven’t even used it since San Diego.”

I mumbled a noncommittal response. Call me a chicken, I don’t give a damn. My ability was unnaturally created by two homicidal maniacs masquerading as parents. What good could come of using it? Too much magick could make even the gentlest of magicians go nutso, and I had crazy genes working against me. If I started experimenting with the Moonchild ability, I was worried some sort of insanity clock would start ticking inside me. How long would it be before it went off? A month? A year? A decade? My parents weren’t even fifty when they started to go banana-boat. For all I knew, I might not even make it to thirty.

“I can do magick the old-fashioned way just fine,” I finally said.

He grunted—something I interpreted to mean “We’ll see about that.” He dropped the subject. “We need to find Bishop first.”

“Maybe there’s someone in La Sirena who knew him back then,” I suggested. “That might be a good place to start.”

“I just want to get Jupe home first.” Lon swerved out of a bicyclist’s path while trying to manipulate his cell phone.

“Stop,” I complained. “I’ll do it.”

I got out my phone and sent Jupe a message: WE ARE PICKING YOU UP TODAY OUT FRONT. It was 2:30; Lon’s housekeepers wouldn’t have left the house to get Jupe from school yet. I’d call them and tell them not to bother today.

Jupe’s reply came almost instantly: SWEET!!!! TONIGHT IS MOVIE NIGHT #3, DONT FORGET.

Groan. A few days ago, he’d emailed Lon and me a list of twenty “must-see” movies to watch before Halloween and pressured me to plan my work schedule around the monster marathon.

“He’s okay?” Lon asked, trying to hide his anxiety as he strained for a peek at my phone.

“Yep. I hope you’re ready for Gore-met: Zombie Chef from Hell.”

Lon didn’t laugh. Horror isn’t as appealing when it’s happening in your own life.

Though it was somewhat comforting to listen to Jupe’s account of his day as we drove from La Sirena Junior High to their place, it wasn’t enough to stop my mind from wandering to Dare’s request. Lon’s either, I guess, because he kept glancing at me while Jupe spiritedly yammered away from the backseat.

It took us fifteen minutes to reach the ocean cliffs at the edge of La Sirena where they lived, another five to climb the winding road up the mountain. Towering redwoods, pines, and cypress trees blocked out the October sun until we ascended to the very top. Lon owned ten acres of prime Big Sur coastal land: part hilly forest, part clifftop beauty, and a short stretch of rocky beach about a quarter of a mile drop below it all. Amanda, in full-blown gossip mode, once told me that it was some of the most expensive real estate in the country. All I knew was that it was lush and beautiful and private, and that I’d spent so much time there recently, it was starting to feel like home.