Page 52 of Grave Mistake (Hedgewitch 1)

I had to agree with that assessment. True, Travis seemed pretty loopy even when he was dead sober, but his eyes weren’t red or watery, and he hadn’t shown any other signs of having smoked a bowl — or however he partook — before heading out that night to drive Athene to the airport.

“That’s what I was worried about,” I said, and Calvin lifted an eyebrow.

“That Travis wasn’t smoking?”

“No, that it was a hex that made him roll the car. Dark magic like that wouldn’t leave any sign behind — at least, not any sign that a regular person would be able to find.”

He shot me a dubious glance. “Would you be able to find it?”

“Probably not,” I admitted. “I mean, I sensed something off about it when we were out there that night. But a strong enough practitioner wouldn’t have to do something as obvious as writing a sigil on the car. They could have just set their intentions and performed a ritual from miles away.”

“Well, that’s comforting.”

I gave an uneasy chuckle. “I know, right? But it’s not as if even the people who practice that kind of dark magic are going around casting hexes right and left. That would take an enormous amount of energy…and it would attract way too much attention.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing, but it still leaves us without any clues we can work with.” He stuck his thumbs in his belt loops and rocked back slightly on his heels, now looking almost uncomfortable. “About dinner last night — ”

“Don’t,” I cut in, and he sent me a surprised look. “That is,” I went on, realizing I’d already put my foot in it and now had no choice but to continue, “things are kind of crazy right now. We don’t have to make it be anything more than dinner. My way of saying thanks for keeping me in the loop on your investigation.”

His expression was now puzzled, and I wondered if I’d made a bigger hash of things than I’d thought. But he only said, “Sure. I need to get back to the station, so — ”

“Right,” I said, even as disappointment stabbed through me. It had been too much to hope that he’d stick around this time, especially since we’d had dinner the night before. “Thanks for bringing me my knives. I could have gone to the station to pick them up, you know.”

“I know,” he replied, “but I was in Globe to talk to Chief Lewis about Travis’s car anyway. If anything else comes up, I’ll let you know.”

That was probably the most I could hope for. At least it sounded as if he planned to keep me in the loop and wasn’t going to disappear forever.

I walked Calvin to the door, and we made our goodbyes. As I shut it behind him, I wondered if I’d somehow blown my opportunity with him, if we’d ever get a second chance to make a connection.

The rest of the evening felt curiously flat. I fed Archie and made myself a spinach salad topped with bits of shredded leftover chicken from my dinner with Calvin the night before, but as a meal, it was less than satisfying. It seemed as if the more times he visited my apartment, the emptier it felt when he wasn’t there.

Reason told me that was a foolish way to look at the situation. We’d had a near miss, that was all. These sorts of things didn’t automatically fall into place, no matter what books and movies might want to tell you otherwise. Honestly, I should probably be glad he’d paid me as much attention as he had, considering the way Josie had described him as a man who didn’t seem inclined to get involved with anyone.

Despite all those inner reassurances, I still found myself struggling with an overwhelming sense of anticlimax. Usually when I got that way, I sat down and did a few Tarot spreads, or meditated, or went for a walk to clear my head. With all the weirdness going on, though, I guessed that wandering around in downtown Globe, which would be mostly deserted by that point, probably wasn’t a very good idea.

I didn’t have cable, but I had plenty of entertainment at my fingertips, thanks to my Apple TV and all the streaming services I was subscribed to. Watching television was usually my last resort, but I decided that was the best thing to do with myself when I felt so jangly and not in tune with much of anything.

Resolutely ignoring the pint of rocky road ice cream in the freezer, I settled down on the couch and started flicking through the offerings. Nothing looked all that exciting, but I decided on a British baking show just because I knew I could depend on it to be relatively free of angst. I had enough of that in my personal life.

However, I only got about fifteen minutes into the first episode before my phone rang. I frowned, wondering if I should ignore it. I’d already seen Calvin that day, and I doubted he would be calling again so soon after our last meeting.

The call could be from my mother. We’d talked the day before the shop opening, and she’d promised to call again in a few days to see how everything went.

I reached for the phone and looked down at the screen. The call was coming from a number in the 818 area code, but I didn’t recognize it.

My fingers hovered over the phone for a second before something compelled me to pick it up and raise it to my ear. “Hello?”

“S-Selena Marx?”

A woman’s voice, very young-sounding. “This is Selena. Who’s this?”

She pulled in a gasp that sounded halfway like a sob. “It — it’s Violet Clarke.”

Holy crap. I sat up straighter on the sofa, phone clenched against my ear. “Violet! Are you okay?”

“Y-yes. I mean, I’m okay for now. I need to talk to you.”

“Where are you?”

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