Finding meaning in any mirror most closely resembled playing a surreal game of charades.
“If it helps, the aunties say Gran’s not dead.”
Her reflection wavered and was suddenly in sweater, jeans, and sneakers standing in what looked like a casino.
“Not likely. Not after the last time.” Auntie Jane had traveled to Vegas to bail her out, and she had not been happy about it even though a dollar slot machine at the airport had paid for the trip.
Allie’s reflection wavered again, and she was naked. She could see Charlie’s charm glowing on her shoulder, but her breasts were a bit big.
“Cute,” she muttered and started up the stairs.
With any luck, Gran had left documentation lying around somewhere. Without an instruction manual and a way to turn it off, she was stuck sharing space with a large reflective surface exhibiting a juvenile sense of humor.
No surprise; she found charms surrounding the apartment door. Most of them were the standard Gale protections, keeping out those who entered with intent to harm, but a couple were strangely specific. One of them seemed to be denying entrance to crows, and three of them, strategically located, didn’t just cover the door but were part of a pattern that warded the entire apartment.
Gran had enemies?
Feeling stupid, Allie connected the dots. Of course Gran had enemies. If Gran wasn’t dead, there was a good chance she was on the run from something. If she was dead, that something had killed her.
Allie took a deep breath. A large part of her insisted that opening the door was a bad idea. The rest of her found the right key and slid it into the lock.
All of her paused.
If Gran was dead, there was a chance that Gran’s rotting, mutilated corpse could be on the other side of the door because if Gran was dead, there had to be a body. Okay, there didn’t have to be a body. Given what it would take to kill Gran, a body after the fact had to be considered optional. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t dealt with bodies before; the family maintained a hands-on approach to death.
But, if Gran was dead, the thing that killed her could be waiting on the other side of the door.
Reminding herself that dealing with either a week-old corpse or a something mean enough to get through Gran’s charms would be preferable to dealing with Auntie Jane should she call for help before she’d even unpacked, Allie pushed the door open and stepped into an enormous room that was living room and dining room and kitchen combined. From where she was standing, she could see neither corpse nor thing, so she stepped further in and pulled the door closed behind her.
The last of the daylight poured into the room through tall, multipaned windows on both the street and the courtyard sides. The walls were a deep yellow and the floor a dark natural wood, the wide boards probably original to the building. The furniture was large, overstuffed, and predominantly upholstered in dark brown velvet. A quick glance under the cushions proved both of the sofas folded out into queen-size beds. The scuffed rectangular table could easily seat eight. Ten with very little crowding. Twelve if manners weren’t a factor. Gran may have left the family behind, but old habits died hard. Fairy lights had been wound around both of the thick steel poles supporting the massive beam that indicated where the interior load-bearing wall had been removed.
Not actual fairy lights, Allie was relieved to see, although she wouldn’t have been surprised had Gran been dealing with the UnderRealm.
There were three doors on the far wall.
A double set of French doors, curtained in ivory lace, led into a large bedroom where the wood floor had been painted black and the walls were the same dark red as the heavy velvet drapes over the windows. Allie glanced in at the king-sized bed and tried not to think of minotaurs. There was a duvet on the bed, the red-and-gold damask cover safely purchased and charm free. Allie’d slept under family quilts her entire life, each piece of fabric placed by the aunties to fulfill multiple purposes—Gran had left that combination of protection and influence behind. Now, so had she.
The middle door led to a narrow bathroom with a shower centered in a claw-footed tub, shower curtain hanging in a circle from the ceiling. The rug, like the duvet cover, had been bought, not made.
The third door led to another bedroom piled high with boxes and larger pieces of junk in place of a bed. Peering into a box of bright green baseball caps, Allie realized no one in the family had known exactly where Gran had settled until the letter and the will arrived. She’d come home for holidays and rituals and stayed in touch by phone, but no one had ever visited her here.
That was sad. Even the wild Gales needed family around them once in a while.
There could be a clue to her disappearance hidden somewhere amongst the junk in the spare room.
Or in the junk downstairs.
Or in the medicine cabinet.
Or under the sofa.
“Where the hell do I start?”
Her stomach growled.
“Good answer.”
Pulling the door closed, Allie realized she’d have to sleep in Gran’s bed.
The sheets had gone into the dryer by the time the take-out Thai arrived. Allie’d picked the restaurant at random from the half dozen stained flyers stuck to the front of the fridge. The fridge itself held only the kinds of food that could last a week or even two; whatever had happened, Gran’d had warning. Or she’d lived on soy sauce, margarine, mustard, and extra old cheese—which couldn’t be ruled out. Auntie Ester had lived on gingerbread for the last two years of her very long life. Fortunately, as Allie hadn’t the faintest idea of where the closest grocery store was, the freezer and the pantry were better stocked.
On her way back to the stairs, mouth watering at the scent of the Pad Thai Talay, the mirror showed her the delivery boy naked.
“You go, Gran,” Allie sighed, taking the stairs two at a time. After she ate, she’d start in on the spare room and leave the store for the morning. Right now, skirting the edges of her grandmother’s life was all she could cope with, and that was only because she’d found ice cream in the freezer.
“Honestly, Michael, who needs that much variation?”
“Apparently, your grandmother.” He couldn’t stop snickering. “Anything look interesting?”
“I don’t care if one them looks like yours, I’m not even considering the word interesting as a reaction to a drawer full of my grandmother’s sex toys. What am I supposed to do with them? Shut up,” she snapped as the snickering turned into a shout of laughter. “I mean, I can’t just throw them out. What if the bag breaks open and everyone knows where they came from?”
“The family doesn’t have a charm for that?”
“Oh, yeah, of course we have a charm to keep garbage bags from breaking open and half a dozen dildos belonging to our grandmothers from spilling out onto the pavement.”
“Problem solved, then.”
“Ass.”
“You love my ass.”
“Oh, please…” Allie reached up and turned off the bedside light. “… everyone loves your ass.”
She could see him smiling, see him stretched out on one of their stupid perfect black leather sofas wearing a pair of worn gray sweatpants and an equally worn T-shirt, the tap tap of Brian working on his laptop the perfect quiet background noise. Stupid, perfect, quiet, background noise.
“Lonely, Allie-cat?”
She rubbed the ache in the center of her chest that told her how far she was from home. “A little.”
“Where’s Charlie?”
“Halifax. Working on a friend’s demo.” The heavy drapes blocked most of the city sounds. Allie pressed her other ear into the pillow and blocked the rest.