The End of Magic (The Witches of Echo Park #3)(54)

This made Dev laugh even harder. Which did not please Freddy.

"This isn't the time to be laughing, Devandra."

He only used her full name when he was mad at her. Otherwise, it was Dev or darling or honey pie or sweet-ums-her man very much liked his terms of endearment.

"Don't be mad," she said, drawing a deep breath and hoping it would stifle any further giggles.

"You saw the news," he said-and gone was the smooth charming voice he usually employed. It was replaced by a tight, strained cadence that spoke to his fear and unease. "They're here to take you away." 

"They're not taking anyone away, love," she said, patting his arm as she crossed the kitchen and headed for the front of the house.

Freddy was hot on her heels, and she could smell the terror oozing out of his pores like a foul musk.

"Devandra," he said in a harsh whisper. "Stop!"

She did as he asked, but only long enough to set him straight.

"Love," she said, placing her hands on his upper arms. "I have this. You don't need to worry."

She looked deeply into his eyes, channeling a wave of calm that she hoped would relax him. The police would know she was a liar in two seconds if they caught sight of him. He needed to chill out, or else she'd send him to the back bedroom where he wouldn't be a liability.

"Go to the back of the house, Freddy," she said, letting the confidence in her voice cajole him into doing her bidding.

"I can't lose you," he said, his voice cracking. "I just . . . I can't."

She nodded. She wanted him to know that she understood-and she really did. He'd lost everything, too, and she had no intention of adding to his grief.

"You don't have to worry," she said, reaching up and stroking his cheek with her index finger. "Trust me. I won't let anything happen to me . . . or to you . . . or to the girls."

He swallowed back a sob, and nodded.

"Okay."

"Thank you," she said, leaning forward and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "Thank you for trusting me. Now go to the back of the house."

He stood there for a moment, locked in uncertainty, then did as she asked and padded down the hallway toward the bedrooms. With Freddy out of the way, she could do exactly what she pleased. Whoever was on the other side of the door would be no match for her.

Dev had not been born assertive. In her family, she was always the peacemaker. The one to settle arguments, not start them. But with the life-changing experience of losing most of her family in one fell swoop, something switched on inside her-or maybe it was more truthful to say that something switched off inside her. She'd stopped giving a shit, stopped caring about what anyone else thought. Not in a bad way. But in the sense that she didn't feel the need to please other people anymore. Especially the people she didn't love and care about-like whoever the hell was at that front door.

As if the person on the other side of the door knew she'd been thinking about them, they gave another knock. This was followed by a muffled: "Ms. Eleanora Eames? This is the police. Please open the door."

Dev felt like laughing again. They're so stupid that they don't even know she's dead. So much easier for me, then.

She gathered her wits about her and opened the door.

Two men in ill-fitting suits stood on the threshold waiting for her. She smiled warmly at them.

"Sadly, Ms. Eames passed away not too long ago. I'm Ellen Mendoza. My husband and I are house-sitting while Ms. Eames's niece, who lives here now, is away."

A little kernel of truth always gave a lie more credence-and the real beauty was that there was very little lying being done. Her middle name was Ellen, and if she and Freddy ever made it official, she'd take Mendoza as her last name.

One of the men-he wore old-fashioned round spectacles and his greasy hair was probably longer than regulation allowed-took out a notepad and began flipping through it.



       
         
       
        

"This niece," he said, looking up from his notepad. "Would that be Lyse MacAllister?"

Dev nodded.

"Why, yes, it would be. I don't really know her, though. I was acquainted with Eleanora through neighborhood meetings and such."

The other man nodded. He was older and gruffer, with a nervous tic that made the muscle above his right cheek twitch. It was hard not to look at it when she talked to him, but she managed.

She was not interested in offending him or giving him a reason to stay longer than necessary.

"Do you know when she'll be back?" the man with the spectacles said, giving her a strange grin. It split his lips but did not touch his eyes.