Sacha laughs. “She did, didn’t she? I always heard she was kind of a bitch.”
“I can’t wait until our roles are reversed,” I mumble.
“Me either, Lou. It’s been a lonely couple of years.”
***
I shove the sunglasses on top of my head as I walk into the mansion. It’s a welcome sight after a few days away and family togetherness. After centuries, the court has mastered the art of giving one another enough space to breathe. I inhale the scent of the bergamot and sage incense Ada constantly burns. I walk inside, greeted by the silence.
“Anyone home?” I ask.
“I’m in the parlor. Join me for tea. I received the labs,” Miles says as I walk into the living room.
“And?” I take a seat beside Miles on the dark gray settee. The silver tea set shines like a treasure. Porcelain cups and saucers with tiny tea spoons are set out, in case someone happened by.
He blinks. “Well, this is a new look?”
“Do you like it?” I run a hand through my flat-ironed, chin-length fuchsia hair.
“I adore it.” He beams. “Tea?”
“Yes, please.”
“Sugar?”
“Two lumps, please.”
>
“Cream?”
“Just a dash.”
Patiently, I wait as he prepares the brew. There are certain things I’ve grown used to. When it gets real, the tea flows like water in this house. Refusal is seen as an insult, so, I always accept. Settled back with our porcelain cups, we resume our conversation.
“It raised more questions than it answered. The sample is from a human.”
“What? How is that even possible? I mean, you saw the photos from the gravesite. Is it possible there was a witch, and I missed it?”
He shakes his head. “I highly doubt it. Witches have a certain smell.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Yuck.”
Miles chuckles. “Not a bad one. Simply distinct. Your magic smells sweeter and more robust, like a wine made from grapes harvested at their peak.”
“I don’t know if I’m fascinated or skeeved out, Miles.”
He shrugs. “It’s okay to be a little of both in this case.”
“I don’t doubt your information, but I’m having a hard time imagining an average Joe causing this much destruction and barely leaving behind a trail.” I cross my ankles and run over a list of reasons an everyday person would need a corpse.
“I could only assume they employed some magical assistance since I found no residue that would suggest explosives or machinery.”
“I didn’t sense any magic.” I mentally re-assess my investigation.
“Perhaps they masked it?” Miles suggests as he refills his cup.
“Nothing’s impossible, but it would take one hell of a powerful witch or maybe a Faerie, who are way too hoity-toity for that kind of dirty work.”