Page 39 of Midnight Auto Parts

One kiss didn’t mean he was mine, but it made me think he could be. That he might want that too.

“I had grown used to thinking of you in mortal terms, and mortals are no match for the gods.” Shadows darkened his gaze. “I know you’re stronger now, that you could defend yourself, but the worry lingers.”

“I get that.” A shiver tripped down my arms. “I remember being helpless as I watched you almost die.”

A low blow, maybe, but I wouldn’t give him up without a fight. Even if that fight was with him.

“I remember too.” He shut his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He opened them, and they were graveyard mist and the dark of the moon. “Can you forgive me? If I promise to do better going forward?”

“As long as you want to go forward.” I heard my voice crack. “You shouldn’t feel obligated to me.”

“Obligation isn’t what I feel when I look at you.”

A current ran through me until my toes curled. “Oh?”

An urgent caw from overhead ruined the moment as Badb sailed in for a landing on a nearby limb. A red string hung from her beak that she offered to me. I accepted it, and its familiar magic hit me hard.

Curling my fingers around it, I demanded, “Where did you find this?”

“She saw something shiny a mile away,” Kierce told me. “She went to investigate and noticed the string hanging from the…” He hesitated, their conversation heating up if her hops were any indication. “I believe she found the truck. She says there were no bodies. But that string had snagged on something. She sensed your magic in it, so she brought it back.”

“I need to check out the truck.” I waffled only a minute. “I’ll help you with the bones when I get back.”

“You’re not going alone.” His gaze drifted to the pit, cordoned off with police tape. “Your sister would kill me.”

“Just once, I want to be the one who inspires dread instead of relying on my sister to put the fear of God in people for me. How is it fair that a dryad is scarier than a necromancer? I’m embarrassed for me.”

“Your sister isn’t wholly a dryad,” he pointed out, like that made it any better.

“I’m not wholly a necromancer.”

“You’re adorable when you pout.” He brushed a fingertip over my bottom lip. “I’ll try harder to be terrified of you going forward.”

“Thank you.” I darted out my tongue, relishing the flash of silver in his eyes. “I would appreciate that.”

Given the green light, Badb launched into the night sky, flying low and slow to guide us to Pink Panic.

And, hopefully, to answers.

Sure enough, Pink Panic rested in a small clearing at a sharp angle with her doors thrown wide open.

Keys hung from the ignition, but the engine wouldn’t turn over when I tried it. Dead battery? No clicking or ticking sounds. Nothing. No Tameka. No Keshawn. No sign of how they got here or where they had gone either. Just insects and night birds calling.

Badb hopped on the passenger seat and pecked at the seat belt buckle.

Checking with Kierce, I verified, “That’s where she found the string?”

Her caw confirmed it before he could, and I scratched the top of her head in thanks.

A quick search of the interior netted me a wrinkled brochure for Grandview Women’s Club, but that was it. I tucked it into my pocket to research later.

“There are no signs of a struggle.” Kierce examined the rear of the truck. “I don’t smell blood either.”

Unlike Tameka and Keshawn, my dismount wasn’t athletic or elegant. More of a slow slide then a plop.

As I began my own investigation of the exterior, I was struck by an impossible realization.

“There are no scratches on the wrapper. There’s no way a truck this size reached this point without a mark on it.” I smoothed my hand down the truck’s flank. “There’s a local witch—Fifi Dern—who does odd jobs for The Body Shop. The Suarez brothers introduced me to her years ago. She’s the one who cast the spell on the wagon to keep the interiorandexterior spotless. I’m sure she’ll answer a few hypotheticals as a professional courtesy. She ought to be able to tell us whether a witch is responsible.”

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