“That was something to see,” Mick said beside me.
“Now everyone knows we have a magic mirror,” I pointed out.
“They already knew. Or suspected. Cassandra chose the participants well.”
The sturdy face of my grandmother appeared in the mirror next to Mick, her dark eyes behind her glasses sharp. “Hmph,” she said after she’d gazed down at it for a time. “A lot of fuss to fix a piece of glass.”
***
Don, Fremont, and Mick very carefully carried the cooled magic mirror back inside and hung it in place. The mirror gazed down at the saloon, whole and in once piece, but still silent.
The human guests who’d come for lunch, applauded. Julie, who’d entered with Jamison and Naomi, joined in when she saw the others clapping.
Jamison came to me. “Thanks for letting me be part of that.”
“Like I could have stopped you.” I sent him a smile, loving this man who’d been the first person in my life to understand and help me.
“You know what I mean,” Jamison said, giving me a quiet look.
Julie tapped me to get my attention. “He thinks you’re still mad at him for trying to cure me,” she said both out loud and in sign. “Tell him to get over himself.”
“Get over yourself, Jamison,” I said obediently. “Being possessed and trying to kill your best friend wasn’t your fault.”
Jamison’s look turned wry. “Thanks. You’re always so understanding.”
I think Jamison figured out, though, that I’d forgiven him long ago. Julie took his hand and led him away to the table where Naomi waited. Now that the show was over, everyone was ready to enjoy Elena’s cooking.
I scrutinized the mirror a moment longer. It said nothing, so I left it alone, but I’d worry until I heard its annoying voice again.
Outside in the parking lot, Fremont had his arm around Flora as he helped her toward his truck. Flora was on her feet but looked exhausted. I caught up to them.
“Thank you,” I told Flora sincerely. “What do I owe you?”
Flora tiredly raised her brows. “Owe me for what?” Her voice was a croak, the flutelike quality temporarily diminished.
“For the spell.”
Her eyes widened. “I don’t charge to do magic.” She sounded aghast. “I give it freely. That is the price of my gift.”
I raised my hands. “Sorry. Wasn’t trying to offend you. I don’t charge for using my magic to solve crimes either.” For some reason I wanted her to know that.
“You solve crimes?” she asked, suddenly interested.
“And you can talk to her all about it later,” Fremont said, his arm firming around Flora. “Right now, you’re going home to rest.”
“Yes.” Flora’s infatuated look returned. “Thanks, Fremont.”
The two of them melded into each other as Fremont guided Flora the rest of the way to his truck and opened the passenger door for her.
Oh, dear. I’d have to keep an eye on that relationship and make sure it didn’t blow up in Fremont’s face. The poor guy had been burned once too often—sometimes literally.
As I turned back to my hotel, I saw Maya at her work truck—a new one—in the dirt lot at the side of the building. Nash was with her, and they looked as though they were arguing, as usual.
I made my way toward them. Nash wore clothes similar to what he had in my dream—running shorts and T-shirt, but today he wore a sweat jacket, and if he had a pistol under it, he kept it holstered.
“Maybe you can talk sense into her,” Nash said to me as I approached. “She’s been hurt, and it’s not the time for a road trip.”
“Road trip to where?” I asked.
“Tucson,” Maya said. The small white bandage on her forehead made a sharp contrast to her liquid black hair. “It’s not like I want to drive to Connecticut.”
I gave her a sharp look. “It was a dream, Maya.”
Maya started. “How do you know what I dreamed about?”
“Because I was there. It’s called dreamwalking, apparently. But I don’t think what we saw was real.”
Nash’s eyes narrowed. “What did you dream about?”
So she hadn’t told him. I shrugged. “Lots of things. It’s not important anymore. Maya, you don’t need to go to Tucson. I’m not clear on what exactly happened at the jail—how did you get hurt?”
Nash answered for her. “The cell block exploded. We were outside in the parking lot, and Maya got hit with rubble.” His tight tone said he blamed me, and he was partly right. If I’d not been trying to interrogate Emmett’s men, the spell wouldn’t have been triggered, and the jail wouldn’t have fallen down.