“Were you listening to Sabaton?” I asked.
She sniffed. “Yeah. So what?”
“I didn’t peg you for a Swedish historical metal sort of lady.”
“Shocking.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Can I help you with something, Alex?”
“Alek.”
She glared at me.
I smiled back with my best charming smile. It didn’t work. I continued, “I was hoping to hire you for some scrying.”
Her glare softened a little but did not go away. “Since when do reapers hire nondenominational practitioners of witchcraft?”
“The fact that you’re not a coven member helps with the decision. Also because I’m stuck up a tree right now.”
She tapped the roller absently against her leg, not seeming to notice the fact that she’d just gotten paint all over herself. Finally, she pointed the roller back toward her kitchen. “You tell me why Grimoire Lending is giving me the runaround on their insurance, pinning me for six thousand dollars’ worth of repairs on my kitchen, and then we can talk about your bit of scrying.”
“I don’t …” I don’t know almost came out of my mouth, but I stopped myself before it finished. I frowned over her shoulder and took out my cell phone. When she began to ask me what I was doing, I held up one finger. Searching through my contacts, I found one and dialed the number. It rang twice before it picked up.
“Grimoire Lending, Client Outreach, this is Jacob speaking.”
“Jacob,” I said, “this is Alek Fitz from Valkyrie Collections. I need to talk to someone about a recent overdue book collection.”
“Hello, Alek! I can handle that for you.”
“Oh, good.” I put on my very best annoyed businessman voice. “Then maybe you can explain to me why Olivia Martin is threatening to sue both Grimoire Lending and Valkyrie Collections over that goddamn popup demon that attacked me last week.” Olivia gestured urgently at me. I waved her off. “I had to smash up her kitchen to destroy it and your insurance should be paying for the whole thing. So why is she calling me every couple hours pissed as hell?”
There was a long period of time when I only heard the sound of typing on a keyboard. Finally, Jacob said, “She’s really that mad, huh?”
“Wouldn’t you be? Her kitchen was trashed. We were attacked by a cursed book you failed to warn either of us about. I mean, her lawsuit against Valkyrie Collections will get thrown out in minutes. But against Grimoire? Shit, man, that could stretch on for years and it’s going to cost you guys a bunch of money. I’m ninety percent sure if you write her a check immediately she’ll go away. But I’m also sure that if I have to spend the rest of the year going to court cases to testify against you guys, Ada Valk is going to seriously reconsider her relationship with Grimoire Lending.”
Another long silence. “Could you hold, please?”
“Sure.” Instrumental music began to play, and I muted my phone.
“What the hell are you doing?” Olivia demanded. “I’m not threatening to sue anyone. If I pulled some shit like that, I would never be able to borrow another grimoire again.”
I said, “I’ve never worked with Grimoire Lending before, but I know they take their reputation very seriously. It’s a gamble, but …”
“Don’t gamble with my career!” Olivia cut me off. “Look, you smashed up my kitchen, I lost months’ worth of work of herbs, my AC broke two days later. I don’t have time for this.” To my surprise, she slammed the door in my face.
I stared at the door unhappily, still listening to the on-hold music on my phone. Well that went well, I said to Maggie.
She snickered in the corner of my mind.
I need to have a more supportive friend living in my head.
And I need my house stuck on the finger of someone just a little smoother, Maggie replied. We can’t all get what we want.
I was just about to turn away when I heard a phone ringing inside the house. Curious, I stayed and tried to listen. All I could hear was muffled talking. Nothing came of it, so I headed back to my truck. I was at the sidewalk when Olivia’s door opened. I glanced over my shoulder at her. She was eyeballing me with a mixture of irritation and … something. She’d gotten rid of her paint roller and was holding a cellphone.
The music on my phone suddenly switched off. “Mr. Fitz?”
“I’m still here,” I said.
“Jacob here. We’ve taken care of the problem. Ms. Martin shouldn’t be bothering you anymore. Please call me back if there are any further issues.”
I thanked him and then hung up, turning back toward Olivia. I jerked a thumb at my truck. “Should I be running?” I asked.
“No,” she replied petulantly. “Come on in.”
I joined in her in the living room. It smelled strongly of paint, despite all the windows being open. It was also at least ninety degrees. I could see why she had been in such a bad mood when I arrived. “So …”
She set her phone down and whirled on me. “You’re lucky.”
“Yeah?”
“The owner called. He offered me twenty grand to sign some papers promising I wouldn’t sue them. Also gave me two years unlimited, free borrowing if I never say a bad word in public or private about Grimoire.”
“Reputation is king.” I smiled at her. The flicker of a smile crossed her face. I could see the genuine relief in her eyes and guessed that she was stretched even thinner than I thought. I sympathized, I really did. “Sorry about your kitchen,” I said. “I should have tried to help earlier.”
She waved away the apology. “I’m feeling pretty good about that help right now. So tell me what you need scryed.”
I can’t believe that worked, Maggie said in disbelief.
I grinned inwardly at her. See? I can be smooth. Sometimes.
Olivia cleared away some of the mess, and we sat down on opposite ends of her couch. Over the next five minutes, I sketched out the basics of the Michael Pavlovich job. I left out a lot of the details and leaned hard on my own distaste with the job. I’d already decided to be as honest as I could with her about what I was doing and why. The last thing I needed was to regain her trust only to trick her into helping with a runaway – especially because I had no idea how she’d feel about the whole situation morally. I didn’t know why I wanted to keep her trust, but I felt like it was a good idea.
When I’d finished, Olivia pursed her lips and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and thoughtfully. “Tracking down runaway slaves is gross,” she told me.
“I’m aware.”
“On the other hand …” She spread her hands. “A good portion of my income comes from spying on people’s most intimate moments. And I’ve made a love potion or two in my time. I don’t do it anymore,” she hurriedly added, “but I have. So I’m not going to judge. At least not too much.”
Oh yeah. That’s another reason professionals don’t like working with witches. When learning how to make a date rape drug is part of your internship, your profession might not have much moral depth.
“So you’ll do it?” I asked.
“Can you pay in cash?”
I pulled out my roll of bribe twenties and peeled off ten of them, setting them on the coffee table. She raised one eyebrow.
“Give me the pillowcase,” she said.
I handed over the pillowcase I’d taken from the halfway home and leaned back on the couch while Olivia puttered around her living room, checking the boxes of stuff from her kitchen and making a small pile of ingredients on the coffee table. She finally seemed to finish her search. She turned the pillowcase back to the right way out and picked over it carefully for several hairs that she set on a little silver plate. When she’d finished that, she looked up at me expectantly.