“Your grandmother really is a fountain of information.”
“Mom would say she’s a fountain of a lot of stuff.”
“Well, true, not all of it is accurate. Her stories are heavily embellished, but there is a core of truth there, and I think there might be some things here that can help us.”
“So you’re going through with your plan?”
He shrugged. “I might as well, unless the boss tells me specifically otherwise. The more I can show I’ve accomplished, the better it’s likely to turn out for me.”
“I guess this means yet another midnight excursion.”
“Yeah. I haven’t been out so many nights since I was in school, with late-night magical training.
Those midnight secret society meetings were murder.”
That night, I followed the instructions Owen had given me. He’d said to wear something white, which was good because I’d run out of black clothes. I wore a flowing white peasant blouse with an old pair of jeans, because he’d also said things could get dirty and muddy. I left my hair down and put on some light floral perfume. If I didn’t know how serious this situation was, I’d have suspected him of setting up a romantic rendezvous. Unfortunately, Owen’s mind usually didn’t work that way, so it was most likely that his instructions had more to do with attracting whatever local magical folk there were than with creating a romantic atmosphere.
When he knocked on my window—apparently he’d decided against magically dampening the sound of the squeaky stairs—he wore a white shirt untucked over faded jeans. He got some things out of his case, then asked, “Do you have any kind of portable musical instrument? Like a whistle, flute, pipes, or anything like that? I thought I had something in here, but I don’t. This was one thing I didn’t anticipate.”
“I have my flute from high school band. At least, I think it’s still around here.” I found it on the top shelf of my closet and brought it down. “I have no idea what condition it’s in.”
“Can you still play it?”
“I’m sure I can get a few notes out, and I probably still have the school fight song memorized. I don’t know what it will sound like, though. It’s all in the lip, you know, and my lip is really out of shape.”
He glanced at my mouth and smiled. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. We just need the music.”
In the very few times during my teen years that I’d climbed out my window to sneak away, I’d never imagined doing so with my band instrument. Come to think of it, I’d also never imagined it with a really hot guy. The magical world really was opposite land, where the things that had made me a dork in school were what now made me useful.
This time, instead of driving downtown, we drove through the town and then up the road a few miles before Owen pulled over onto the shoulder. He did something to the barbed-wire fence that made it possible for us to walk through it, then we crossed the field to get to the stand of trees that indicated there was water. It was the creek that went on to flow through the town.
The area around the creek was like an oasis in the desert. All around was flat prairie land, but the creek banks were rimmed with lush vegetation and trees. It was a miniforest stuck in the middle of a sea of grass. Owen held my hand to keep me steady as we made our way down the steep creek bank to stand at the water’s edge.
The moon was bright, not quite full, but still enough to keep things from being pitch-black. Owen conjured a little hand fire to hover over his head and light what he was doing as he took things out of his pack. While he worked, I peered into the bushes and the creek water, looking for any signs of magical creatures. They wouldn’t be able to hide from me using magic, but I couldn’t see anything.
I’d never seen anything remotely magical around here until a week or so ago, so I wasn’t optimistic about this working. I was still afraid that Granny, magical or not, was mostly nuts and all the wee folk she’d seen were only in her head.
“Come over here,” Owen called from where he stood on a flat rock that jutted out into the creek. He held a hand out to steady me as I climbed onto the rock with him. Then he took a pouch of powder from his pack and made a circle around us. “A protective measure,” he said, “in case they aren’t too happy about being disturbed.”
“How reassuring,” I said.
“I don’t think they’d harm us, but we’re not dealing with tamed beings here. Now, get your instrument out. We need to be ready in case they show up.”
