Sandelene, if given the option, wouldn't answer her phone for the next week if she could've gotten away with it. She did use it, however: had to call the insurance company, then Ronnie to apologize for the smell and warn her about keeping the trash lid locked so curious animals didn't investigate. As to the rest, a bird got in. It wasn't a real lie.

That's what they all say, the thing called Essex had crowed in her ear.

Margery had left a slew of messages; the last and only one she'd listened to instructing her to disregard what he'd said twenty minutes ago. He wanted her back at the museum. She didn't have the time to deal with him, at least not yet: between a creepy bird demon and a visit downtown to the police department, the day was bad enough. She didn't need the pain of having her ear chewed off again about damages, and she'd gotten enough dirty looks to last a lifetime walking through the bustling police station. Sure, this may have been a freak accident, but there'd been two, two, officers of the law laid out when they were alone and in her vicinity.

After she'd given her statement agreeing that yes, maybe there was a connection, yes, maybe the man from the museum was stalking her, she inquired of Officer Peabody and Captain (she'd been very careful to get that right) Saltz. 

The talk had not gone well from the start, when she'd gotten squirmy under the hardened eyes of the investigating officer and said, "If only I could get the men in my love life to go down that fast."

Officer Tori Yen sat back in her chair as they'd finished up. "The Captain would like to speak with you," she said with a very long sigh. "Tomorrow afternoon at his apartment."

Sandy tilted her head. "At his apartment?"

Tori's dark eyes rolled. "He suffered a head injury. You think he's coming into work?"

"So if he's not working, is it mandatory?"

"He's always working," she said, clicking her pen. "God knows what he wants from you." 

"He did hit his head," Sandy supplied with a sheepish smile quickly gobbled up under Tori's wolfish glowering. 

*

Not fair, the bird crooned the next day, settling on the rail beside his mistress. Sandelene had just exited a corner store and had taken the road along the river to stop and think about her meeting with Saltz when the demon had soared down from above and settled on the guard rail overlooking the river walk. Officer Peabody didn't get a house visit. I'm not even allowed in your house.

Sandelene had a very strong suspicion he was lying about what command a witch had over her familiar. She was quite certain that one, the demon-expelling spells and smudge sticks she'd rubbed around her bedroom were highly ineffective when it came to Essex and two, he was lying last night when he claimed that her spirited, 'get the fuck out from under my bed what the fuck do you think you are, some kind of bogeyman? get out!' was 100% effective in keeping him out of her apartment.

What was most unsettling about Essex was the fact that he seemed to be enjoying his newfound freedom. He wasn't just being evil, pouring blood down the walls or making her stomp on her pets. He was thinking and scheming and that wasn't how demons were supposed to work. Not the haunting variety, at least. She couldn't be sure what was going on, but she was vaguely certain that he was planning it.

 "Neither of you requested to see me," she huffed, leaning against the rail beside the bird. She pulled open the bag swinging from her left hand and opened it. "Look in there. Two cards. Two stupid 'Get Well Soon' bears. I'm being perfectly fair."

The handsome little wretch of a predator leaned forward, one bright eye making the assessment. When he leaned back, ruffling his wings, he clicked his beak dismissively. Well, that sure proves me wrong. You want to sleep with them both.

"Stop it."

I'd stop if you'd give me something real to do. The sharp hook of his beak nipped her hand. Like magic.

"No thanks," she hissed, rubbing the reddening welt on her thumb. "I sell, I don't practice."

Sure sounded like you practice, putting that stinky shit all over the corners of your room. 

"That's not the same and you know it."

You're right. It would be better for me to teach you than to trust the knowledge of a woman who thought a familiar binding spell could remove a demon. Sandelene pushed away from the rail and kept walking down the street. The bird hopped after her. Being dead gives you a lot of time to catch up on your reading, once you figure out how to turn pages. 

Realizing that if she had grey hair and a bit of a hunch back and some turquoise jogging suit, she could pass for a crazy old woman yelling at birds, Sandelene whirled around on the demon. He hopped into the air to avoid a beakful of plastic bag. "What do you want? What would put this gunky spirit to rest?"

He settled back on the rail a safe ten feet away. I'd like to be returned home.

Not the words she'd expected. Sandelene's shoulders dropped. "Where's home?"

Where my family's buried.

"Which is?"

The bird shifted around to the river, tilting its orange eyes at something in the grass along the bank. If you'd do magic, we could divine the location.

"Or we could look at records."

How old do you think I am?

"Never thought that far. Rot makes for an excellent concealer."

The bird rubbed the crook of his wing over his head. Let's make a deal. I'll give you tonight to make merry with Captain Saltz and you give me the next night to teach you. 

"And if I don't?"

Have a listen to the voicemail from dear mum.

Her troubled frown flipped open into shock at the message. From the details her mother had left in the message, she'd agreed to attend a dinner party next Friday at her uncle's house. What's more, they'd heard Indra was home visiting his mother and he and his parents had agreed to attend.

"You did this?" she said, scrolling through her messages to find the original voicemail containing the invitation. "You called her back and said I'd go?"

Like it? he asked in a tone that was all Sandelene. It made her cringe to hear it, so wrong and so undeniably accurate. I got the idea from the parrot in a Disney movie. And I can do a lot more than arrange a dinner party. I could call your grandmother, and tell her I'm—your—pregnant again. I could leave poor Officer Peabody a message about how brave and handsome he is. I could call the department itself and confess to the shark you spoke with yesterday. How would you like that? 

"How'd you do it?" she asked.

Magic, he hissed. Little bits of the cosmos whispering in my ear. They'll whisper to you tomorrow night.

*

Captain Saltz lived in one of the nicer communities of Memphis. Not gated, but the walkways were clean and brightly light and the residents had mowed little patches of lawns and manicured flowers. From a glance, she'd guess their minimum income was double or triple her own. She scanned a brick retaining wall draped with some kind of tumbling flower. Not a fleck of graffiti to be found. It was probably triple, then.

 She consulted with the condo number the department had given her, then headed up the steps and rang the bell. Captain Saltz greeted her in loose grey sweatpants and the t-shirt of some indie band she thought she might've heard once down in the park. She felt a little overdressed, though not by much, as all she'd done was iron a blouse and a nice pair of capris. And possibly had put on a little makeup.  

"I'm sorry," she said at the sight of bright brown eyes, holding out a card and a little stuffed bear. And at the distant screech of a hawk, added, "I got one for Officer Peabody, too, if you want to give it to him. Not sure he'd like to see me, so..." 

Saltz raises his eyebrows, wincing at the pull of stitches. "Do you have it with you?"

"No," she said. "I thought that'd be a bit imposing. I could drop it off one day this week though, or at the department, which is probably the better choice anyway." 

"Sure," he said, scratching the back of his head. The other hand, now holding the bear and card, gestured down the hall. "Come on inside." 

With one last look at the empty blue sky, she walked past him. He closed and locked the door, set the card on a side table and whistled.

Sandy froze. 

Something loud and panting clattered down the stairs. Saltz tossed the bear into the air. In a blur of blue and grey a dog snagged it. The animal was lean and alert, with a smooth merle coat and icy blue eyes. It skidded over the doormat, banged against the wall and then, tail beating her legs, rammed its butt against her. 

"You have a dog," she said in a high voice, leaning down to give it a tentative pat-pat on its swinging rump. It leaned further in, curling itself into a lanky 'c' shape. 

"That's Fax, Mayor of Good Boys," Saltz said, grabbing a non-slimed edge of the bear and tugging. The dog abandoned her in a heartbeat for a growly fight. 

"He's, uh," she began, wiping her hands on her pants. 

"Australian Koolie. Friend of mine is a breeder. Sent me a pup when she heard I was in the market."

"No, I mean, cool, but," she flinched away from the pair of them. 

Saltz watched her for a moment, then his short command had the dog sitting at attention. "No dogs?" he asked, with a gentler, "Just ignore him. He'll go shred his new toy."

"Dogs are a little . . . fast-paced for me," she explained with enough of a smile she'd hope he'd drop it. 

"You got any pets?" he said. 

"Toads and salamanders."

He ran a hand through his blonde hair with a soft laugh. "I'm not trying to paint you into a corner, Miss Magic, but—"

"Sandelene. Sandy."

"Sandy, those animals would've been my next guess, after a cat." He told the dog, "Okay" next. Fax, stuffed bear in his jaws, head down, pushed it around the floor and growled to himself. Saltz offered her a seat at his kitchen island and poured her a glass of wine.

"Nothing for you?" she asked, curling her fingers welcomely around the glass. She kept an eye on the dog, not because she thought the Australian Koolie would attack, but just so she knew where he was in case.

Saltz pulled a pitcher of water from the fridge and poured himself a glass. "Until my wits are properly gathered, I'm not eager to loose what little I've managed to hold onto." Sandelene opened her mouth to apologize again, but he waved her off. "You don't have to apologize. It wasn't your fault. In fact, that's why I've invited you here."

"What do you mean?"

He took the barstool beside her. His knee bumped hers. She wasn't sure what the etiquette was on that matter, so instead she stayed still and listened.

"Peabody is 'sure as shit's brown' certain he saw a ghost in the library. From his description, the lack of evidence . . . "

"You believe him?"

"I'm saying just before the chandelier cracked me up something white and shadowy—"

"White and shadowy?" she asked. 

"Yeah, well . . ." 

He had a really nice way of smiling. It made her want to tease him some more.

"You also said you saw a bird behind me," she pointed out.

He made sure he was looking at her when he wrapped his fingers around the stem of the wine glass and pulled it over to steal a sip. "You seem awfully calm for a person in a vandalized shop after a monstrous incident the night prior. Most folks get a bit gun shy after a fright like the museum, and then to go home to a trashed place . . . "

"I'm not most folks," she said, and pulled the glass back from him before he could drink any more. And when he pouted but relinquished, her fingers had brushed his, and she experienced the vague, tingly bubble that came with fooling around with a newfound crush. 

"No, Miss Magic, you aren't," Saltz continued, spinning his glass of water between his hands.  He looked over at her again. "I called you here to prove I'm not crazy. They've got me on drugs now, but I wasn't on anything when I walked into your shop. I've always thought there could be something out in the great beyond. The things I've seen, done, and dodged . . . Not often, just in the aftermath of those incredible moments, and now this. Seeing as you're an expert in the field—"

"Oh, no," she said, pushing away from the table. Fax lifted his head. Little bits of fluff dribbled off his jaws. She sat back down. "I'm hardly an expert. You want someone like Moira Chastain. I'm a retailer. If dark's stuff's out there, I don't fuck around with it."

Until now. 

It was a good thing the curtains were drawn, or Sandelene was afraid she might see the bird outside, pecking at the glass. 

"Not eager to embrace what you are, are you?"

"Not eager to lie to a cop."

He smiled. "Are they real, the things that go bump in the night?"

"The chandelier was," she said tartly, and wasn't sure why she felt the need to keep him from the dark when he was actively trying to pry open the chained basement door. She caught sight of the stitches and dark bruises on his forehead and took a swig of the wine. That was why. 

"Who vandalized your shop?"

"Kids."

He made a disapproving face. "You know I can pull the footage next door. The camera hits your shopfront. The owner volunteered it." 

"There's a back alley entrance." 

He drummed his fingers on the granite. "You don't have to lie. This stays between us. If I wanted the department to know about it, I'd have directed you there."

"Wine's good," Sandelene continued. "Not a lie."

"You know I'm here to protect and serve, right?"

She nodded. 

His hand dropped beside hers. He leaned toward her, brown eyes focused on her and her alone. "I would like to do that. Very much."

Sandelene paused, tilted her head in a giddy rush of heat. "I'm not saying you can't charm me, but you sure as hell can't kiss the answer outta me." 

He dropped his head, stood with a short laugh at himself. "You know, when you get trounced by an inanimate object, a lot of dumb ideas start looking real good."

"I'm not saying it's dumb," she said quickly. "Super effective, actually." 

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I'd called you here for answers. You got here and I remembered I'd like your face. Two separate topics. I smushed them together. I'm blaming the painkillers."

She sat a little straighter, pulled her hair over one shoulder and tried not to look like a gleeful idiot. This was not the turn of events she'd been expecting. "What'd they give you?" she asked.

He grinned right back. "I'm not going to tell you that, lest you look up the side effects and come to the conclusion it wasn't drugs." 

She laughed.

"Thing is," he continued. "If I don't take a break from my work soon I'll end up married to it, and she is not a kind lover. Thankless long nights and lonely weekends. If I don't try romance now I'll be shopping for a wife in whatever geriatrics office I've stumbled into. To be perfectly straight with you, though, I'm also looking for a date for a gala next Friday. Was thinking I might guilt-slash-charm you into it."

"Not very moral, is it?"

"I don't follow all the rules," he said, and headed over to the living room to pick up the destruction Fax had abandoned for his water bowl. "Just the ones that keep me fed."

"As nice as that sounds," Sandelene replied, rotating around to watch him bend over. "I've got plans."

"Oh?"

"Dinner with family. If I had another day, I'd say we could make a deal."

"Is your dinner in Memphis?"

"20 minutes outside."

"What time?"

"5:30. Grandma needs to take her pills with food."

"I see," he said, dropping the stringy, fluffy remains into a bin by the sink. "And how long does this dinner run?"

"Usually? Until I storm out."

He leaned against his counter. "How would you like to duck out early instead? Food'll be shitty at the gala, but the company won't."

"I can get behind that," she said, ignoring the little voice in the back of her mind thinking he could get behind her any time. 

"Of course," he went on, "this agreement only works on the premise that you don't turn out to be a crazed murderess between now and Thursday."

"I'll try not to slaughter anyone," she promised. "Listen, can we get lunch before then? I've got some ground rules."

"Don't talk politics or fall in love with me?"

"Exactly," she said. 

"Sure," he said, shrugging. "But just so you know, I'm still gonna grill you on this haunting business. Call my office with a time and date."

"The office?" She frowned over the edge of the wine glass. "I have to book a date through your office?"

"I'm a wanted man, Miss Magic." But he wrote his cell number down and handed her it. "Don't make me have to change numbers," he warned. "I've had this one since I was in high school. Talking to Verizon reps will ruin my day."