“I stopped by Abigail’s on my way here, but she didn’t seem to be home.”
“I think she’s in El Paso for a few days,” Art said. The muscles in his arms bulged, raising his T-shirt’s sleeve and showing me the coiled red snake. “Her sister lives there. They’re close, which is good, but I sure could have used her help with a banishing the other day. You should have come by then. It was a gentry girl, actually-you were looking for those, right?”
“Yes,” I said, startled. “I take it you managed to send her back on your own?”
“Yeah. She wasn’t that tough. More scared than anything else.”
I sipped my coffee, trying to make sense of this new development. I may have very well indeed jumped to conclusions about Art’s kidnapping role. Maybe Moria had just been banished after wandering here. “Do your jobs ever actually take you to the Otherworld?” I asked.
He gave a gruff laugh. “Not if I can help it. Those transitions are a bitch, even with that crossroads. I haven’t actually been over in…I don’t know. Years.”
“Huh,” I said.
Art paused in his clipping, giving me a puzzled look. “Why do you ask?”
“I’ve heard stories-that is, gentry rumors-about some human over there who kind of sounds like you.”
“Like me?” His confusion grew. “That’s a little weird.”
“It was a human with a red snake tattoo.” I didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but a tiny bit of it slipped into my tone.
“Why on earth would I lie about crossing over?” he asked. He wasn’t angry, exactly, but some of that friendly demeanor had cooled a little.
“Whoa, hey. I didn’t say you did.” I tried not to sound too defensive. “It was just weird that there were sightings of someone who looked like you near where your crossroads lets out.”
“The gentry I’ve banished are probably getting confused and thinking I was in their world when I kicked them out of this one…it’s honestly hard to understand how any of them think. And you know how disorienting banishing is.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m just saying the story I heard was weird.” Art said he’d kicked a gentry girl out, but Moria sure had sounded like she’d escaped.
If I thought his attitude was cool earlier, it was frigid now. “I find it equally weird that a shaman is chummy enough with gentry to be listening to their stories-and concerned about them. Why does it matter to you if humans are over there anyway?”
“Because those humans might be harming gentry.”
“And?”
“And it’s not right.”
He snorted and returned to his trimming. “They’re gentry, Eugenie. They’re not like us. And from what I hear, you’re not all that gentle with them anyway.”
“When they’re in this world, yeah.”
“Any world, Eugenie. They’re literally not human. Why do you care so much?”
“None of your business.” The harsh words were out before I could stop them. Art paused again and this time turned to fully face me.
“And it’s none of your business where I go and what I do-in either world.”
My heart lurched in my chest. “What, are you saying it is you? That you have been over in the Otherworld recently?”
“I’m saying I’m done with this discussion. You’re not welcome here if you’re just going to toss around ridiculous accusations-accusations that don’t even matter.”
“It matters to them.”
“I think you’re asking the wrong questions here. You need to examine your motives and figure out why you’re so eager to defend those who have no regard for us-and why you’re picking fights with your own kind.”
I shot up, careful of the coffee. “I’m not picking a fight.”
“Then get out of here before there is one.”
We stood there, locked in antagonism, and I wondered if it would come to a fight. I was armed, and he wasn’t, though he was bigger and better-muscled. No, that was stupid. Why would he fight? He hadn’t confessed to anything, only grown hostile at what he read as me accusing him of things he didn’t consider crimes. That didn’t make him guilty-but it didn’t make him innocent either. Something just didn’t feel right here.
“Fine,” I said, backing off. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just trying to figure things out and make sure no one’s being wronged.”
He smiled, but it was a far cry from the easy grin that had greeted me. “What in God’s name would you do if someone was? Come on, Eugenie. Don’t overinflate your sense of obligation-or importance. There’s no shaman police. You don’t have any jurisdiction or right to dictate what I or anyone else around here-or anywhere-does.”
“Noted,” I said, heading toward my car. I was afraid if I stayed, I was going to say something I’d regret. Regardless if he had a role in all this, I didn’t like the callous way he treated gentry-particularly since it was similar to the attitude I’d once had. “I’ll send your regards to Roland.”
“Make sure you do,” called Art. “And maybe you should have a talk with him about some of these ideas while you’re at it. Roland knows what’s right.”
I bit my lip and got in the car without further comment. So. No real answers here, but something felt wrong about Art. He was too guarded and hostile, and despite his claims about not having been to the Otherworld recently, the rest of his comments made it seem very plausible that he could be lying.
Yet, I realized what also bothered me as much as his reticence was his attitude toward the gentry. Roland’s was similar, albeit not as harsh, and he’d warned me away plenty of times. Kiyo also wanted me to keep out of gentry affairs-inasmuch as I could-which was rather hypocritical, considering his involvement. I was enmeshed, whether I liked it or not, and had accepted that my views on the gentry had changed. They were odd, and I didn’t always approve of them, but in their hearts, I knew they were people not all that different from me, full of the same feelings and hopes. I couldn’t understand how Art or anyone else could think girls disappearing was unimportant-even if they were gentry.
It occurred to me as I drove away that Art hadn’t invited me inside either time. Coincidence? His meticulous yard certainly suggested he spent as much time outdoors as within. And yet…would I have found some evidence in there to shed more light on his activities? Damn. There was nothing to be done for it now, not with Art still there and suspicious of me.
As I drove back through town toward the highway, a backup plan came to me. What had Art said? That Abigail was out of town for a few days? As of yet, I had no evidence whatsoever to suggest that she was involved with any of this Otherworldly intrigue, but she was an associate of Art’s. Maybe there was something to be unearthed at her place.
So, I parked outside her apartment once more and slipped in past the antiques store. My athame, wand, and gun were my usual tools of the trade, but I did carry a few little-used ones, such as a quartz crystal for reading energy. I also had a small lock-picking kit I kept in my bag. Imps, trolls, and other creatures of that ilk sometimes tried to lock themselves away from me. If Abigail’s lock wasn’t particularly state of the art, I should be able to get in.
It wasn’t, and judging from the lack of beeping, there was no alarm system within either. The closest she had was her herd of cats. They swarmed around me in a furry, slithering mass, less hostile than hungry. I wondered who fed them when she was gone. Uneasily, I decided to make this search quick, lest an unsuspecting pet sitter come trolling around.
Searching wasn’t easy since the place was still cluttered with books, incense, and candles. My task was made more difficult by the fact that I had no clue what I was looking for. I lifted and moved things as best I could, hoping the place wouldn’t look ransacked. In spite of the mess, I was again struck by how nice the apartment was, how it had been expensively restored. The floors were true hardwoods-no laminate here-and all the molding and crownwork was elaborate and beautiful. This place couldn’t be cheap, and it seemed a shame she’d let her pack-rat habits get the best of it. Not that I was one to talk.