“She’s a grown woman,” Pamela pointed out. “With a driver’s license. She could have gone anywhere.”
Gabrielle might be in her twenties in body, but in many ways she was still a broken child. I hoped with all my strength she hadn’t gone to the vortexes to commune with our mother.
Mick and I hiked out that way. The dirt-filled wash that buried the vortex was intact, and neither of us felt anything disturbing from it.
As we turned back, I saw—or thought I saw—the faintest dark ripple pass across the surface of the hotel. It was gone in an instant, the sun shining hotter than ever. Storm clouds were playing over the mountains to the south and the San Francisco peaks to the west, which made me feel better. A little storm never hurt.
Mick had noticed the shadow as well, because he stopped. “What was that?”
“I have no idea,” I said with a feeling of disquiet.
Mick and I exchanged a glance. My turquoise engagement ring seemed to sting as we clasped hands and moved at a run to the railroad bed and on to the hotel.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mick and I reached the hotel at a dead run. He flung open the back door and streamed inside ahead of me, his dragon instinct to make sure the way was safe before letting me follow.
We found nothing wrong. Cassandra lifted her head as we charged into the lobby, her calm face creasing with a frown. The protective wards Mick and I had wrought were intact—I’d have known the instant they were breached. The goblin couple sat at a table playing a quiet game of dominoes and sipping iced tea. They glanced up, then when we didn’t do anything interesting, returned to their game.
Mick moved to the reception desk and rested his fists on it. “Everything all right in here?”
“Yes.” Cassandra didn’t even bother to look around in alarm. She too would have known if something was wrong. “Why?”
“Hmm.” Mick stroked the polished wooden countertop. He was checking its aura, determining whether all was well with the entire building. “See if anything’s up with the mirror, Janet.”
My chest tightening, I hurried across the lobby to the saloon. Carlos was dispensing drinks, guests had gathered for an early afternoon repast, and the mirror hung unbroken on the wall.
I stepped behind the bar and put my hand on its frame. “You okay?”
I feared the mirror still wouldn’t speak to me, but it shuddered under my fingers and said, “Oh, girlfriend, that was awesome.”
I relaxed a fraction. Mirror repairs, I’d heard, could change a mirror’s personality, but its voice was still in its drag-queen drawl, its enthusiasm undimmed. I suppose I should wish for a nice, soft-spoken, kindly voice, male or female, but I knew in my heart I’d miss the obnoxious thing if it changed.
“Good,” I said, patting the frame. “Glad to see you back in one piece.”
“Was that a pun? Oh, good one.” It chuckled, the laugh extending far longer than the lame joke warranted. “What’s the matter, sweetie pie? You look shook up.”
“You’re all right? Mick and I thought we saw something, and Emmett is tricky.”
“He is. But he’s not in the hotel. If he’d come in here, I’d have screamed.”
The mirror would have, that was true. “Keep an eye out, all right?” I decided against telling it that I planned to use it as bait to lure Emmett here. No sense in panicking it too soon.
“I will, sugar buns. Tell that Flora she can swirl me up anytime she wants. Did wonders for my complexion.”
“I’m just glad it worked. Hang in there,” I said for its benefit.
The mirror laughed uproariously again, and I turned away.
Carlos, at the other end of the bar, said, “You know, everyone thinks you’re loco, Janet.”
“I know,” I said. I shot him a grin, and departed.
***
As much as Mick and I scoured the hotel and surrounding area, we found nothing that could have caused the dark ripple. We found no sign of Emmett, no sign of any other baddie, and also no sign of Gabrielle.
We split up the search—Mick driving up to Flat Mesa, me to look around Magellan. A call to my dad told me Gabrielle hadn’t returned to Many Farms, and also assured me that Dad and Gina were safe.
On a hunch, I drove past Maya’s old house to the house Amy McGuire had occupied before she’d disappeared. The house was up for rent, still owned by the McGuires, but no one had taken it since this past summer.
Gabrielle wasn’t there, and I found no aura of her anywhere on the street.
No one in Magellan had seen her either, not at the diner, the motel where Colby liked to hole up, Naomi’s plant nursery, or Paradox, the woo-woo store. I stocked up on supplies at Paradox, asking Heather Hansen, one of Fremont’s many cousins, if she’d noticed Gabrielle around, but Heather answered in the negative.