Micah silenced me the best way he knew how, by grabbing my shoulders and kissing me hard. When he came up for air, he said, “Only if you let him.”
I opened my mouth to protest the many ways Old Stoney’s presence had me less than pleased, when I caught sight of a line of dancers. In the Mundane world they would have been called a conga line, but here they were just happy. Carefree. Enjoying themselves.
Micah was right. Who cared if that stupid rock wanted to be a jerk? I kissed Micah’s chin and asked, “Are we done being the May King and Queen?”
“Almost,” he murmured, drawing me into the darkness beyond the firelight. “There is but one more matter to see to.” And see to it we did.
17
Something was bothering me about that last boggart, the one Mom and I had needed to bind. And not just because the binding had turned out to be a total waste of time.
Okay, the fact that the critter was bothering me was a given, since the sole purpose for boggarts to exist is so they can annoy people. But something about that particular boggart was off…way more off than the usual boggarty shenanigans.
It wasn’t that the original clutch had been Max’s penalty for being a world-class failure at gambling; around here, Max screwing up happened often enough, and it was really only a matter of time before someone cursed him. But Mom had managed to break the curse on the rest of the clutch, so why did just the one boggart wander on back to the manor, first to eat nearly half the orchards, then as a supersized menace? What was more, the binding spells worked by me and Mom should have been more than enough to hold it. Of course, we hadn’t expected anyone to dig up the poppet we’d buried, either.
So, who had unbound the boggart? And where had the poppet gone?
Those two questions had the same answer—someone had dug up the poppet and destroyed it. Most likely, that someone was the same someone who had then made Max’s boggart the Largest Boggart Ever. But who could have done it? Who would have even known there was a bound boggart in the first place?
Even without knowing said digger/enlarger’s name, I could puzzle out a fair bit of their identity. It would have to have been someone of considerable power, and someone who knew that the Lord of Silver had recently begun hosting a few out-of-town relatives up at the manor. Granted, it was no secret that the Corbeaus were now staying in the Otherworld, especially with Max’s epic losing streak, and all the associated brawls, being the talk of the village; now that Mom had made her appearance at our Beltane festival, I could only imagine what further surprises we were in for. Hopefully these future incidents would just be standard attacks, with swords and spears and the like, and not another plague of stinky, messy critters.
When I’d asked Micah who he thought had been responsible, he’d placed all blame on Max, since he’d been cursed with them in the first place. I admitted that Micah had a point, but when the boggart had made his third appearance at the manor, it had had nothing to do with Max. What’s more, for someone to attempt removing a poppet buried on Micah’s land, they must have had access to a ready supply of spellcrafting implements, as well as a heaping helping of egotism.
So yeah, I had a few ideas about who this individual could be. And I wanted to pay her a visit.
I found Max lying on a bench in the courtyard, halfway between the manor and the Clear Pool. He was flat on his back, staring at the clouds. “What’s going on?” I asked.
“Absolutely nothing.” He drew up his feet, giving me space to sit beside him, so I did.
“Are you going to visit her?” I asked, nodding toward the Clear Pool. My brother seemed to have hit it off with our resident nymph.
“Nah. She’s nice, but…” His voice trailed off, and I didn’t press him. I was actually kind of glad that Max wasn’t too into the Bright Lady, since I needed his full attention.
“I have a theory about your boggarts.”
“What kind of theory?” He hadn’t moved, but I heard the edge in his voice.
“Not about the whole group, just about the giant one. I think I might know who cursed it.” At that he sat up, eyes narrowed and mouth pressed into a thin line. “Want to head down to the village with me?”
Max is always game for causing a ruckus, and soon we’d passed the village gates and were walking down the darker path toward the apothecary. Just as Sadie and I had, we found the crone inside. This time there weren’t any heaps of freshly skinned pelts, thank the gods for small favors. Instead, we found the crone sorting powders behind the roughly-hewn counter.
“How did the tincture perform?” she croaked, by way of greeting.