That was why I was so quick to make sure no hairs we left behind at the Amherst Inn could be used against us. Wigs with synthetic hair were a gray area, but wigs made from donated hair? That could get dangerous fast. Especially since a girl like Trinity, creating her own styles, could even reverse-engineer a spell if she hid a rooted strand of her hair where it was unlikely to be noticed by the buyer.
“What are you thinking?” Asa cut his eyes toward me. “You’re quiet.”
“Just recalling how very many ways we can get screwed if we leave behind a single strand of hair.” I let my head fall back against the seat. “There’s a spell I used to perform before leaving any room I had spent time in, back when I was paranoid other Black Hat agents were out to get me.”
To be fair, I had given them plenty of reasons for retaliation. I still had a baggy of hairs in the safe that belonged to former coworkers who made their animosity clear. Like Marty. I really ought to burn those and rid myself of the temptation.
Back when I first ran from the Bureau, I expected those people to hunt me, and I wanted insurance. Now I had no reason to hold on to them, except out of habit. Or spite. Most of them were dead anyway. Black Hat agents don’t live long, and those few were no exception.
Pages and pages of photos from previous gatherings proved the group was active, and the captions on each picture showed the website was updated frequently. That meant, within reason, the information was recent and accurate. It also gave Colby a jumping-off point to begin identifying the people in those photos to give us a list of suspects for the summoning ring.
A stinging pressure behind my eyes yanked me from my thoughts with a visceral tug.
Reality blurred around me, pitching my stomach until I tasted bile. Convinced the SUV had been hit, that we must be tumbling into a ditch, I startled when my vision cleared to show the same stretch of road.
A dozen blood-red roses that smelled of copper and sulfur filled my arms, their thorns ripping furrows in my skin. Reeling, I swung my head toward Asa, panic a heartbeat in my throat, but he gave no indication his world had tilted. That meant I was the only one whose brain got tossed in the washer on spin cycle.
“What happened?” I couldn’t hear over the thundering of my pulse. “Where did these come from?”
The steering wheel groaned beneath Asa’s fingers. “Father sent them.”
“Goddess bless.” I dumped them in the floorboard. “The thorns are an inch long.”
“Clay would find it amusing my father has a crush on you.”
“Yes, well, Clay finds it amusing to make his belly button talk too.” I gestured to the bloodthirsty gift. “What do we do about this?” I kicked the bouquet for good measure. “Your dad needs to take a hint.”
“We stop for the night.”
“That was the plan,” I said slowly. “In Natchez.”
“The strain from the portal means our bodies are convinced they haven’t slept in twenty-four hours.” He kept stealing glances at the messy floorboard. “We might be walking into another Amherst Inn situation. We need to find a safe hotel, get some food and sleep, and come at this tomorrow.”
“Parish will have a fit.”
“We’re no good to him dead on our feet.”
“All right.” I was easy to convince. “I’ll update Colby.”
>>I’ll book you a room in Washington. It’s about fifteen minutes outside Natchez. I’ll adjust your reservation at March Manor online so your check-in is tomorrow.
>Many blessings upon your antennaed head.
>>You definitely need sleep. You’re being weirder than usual.
>Thanks?
>>It wasn’t a compliment.
>>I’m also ordering pad see ew and drunken noodles to be delivered from a local Thai restaurant.
>You’re definitely my favorite moth.
>>Sleep. Eat. Brain tomorrow.
That might have been the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to me.
Our lodgings for the night appeared on my right, and he cut into the parking lot with a squeal of tires.