Page 39 of The Devil Knows Her Name

“Then let them make their goddamn assum—”

“And furthermore,” Evelyn interrupted me, raising her voice to such a level we could no longer pretend Millie didn’t hear, “his parents don’t know you at all, so if someone goes to them and says, ‘Hey, what was your son doing with Tess Wynne?’ they’re likely to jump to the wrong conclusion.”

In those words, I heard the echo of Norman’s accusation, saw the shine of self-pity in his eyes. Fury dawned on me, as slow and red as a sunrise after a storm. It would never matter what I actually did; they would accuse me all the same. They would make me a monster whether I chose to be one or not.

“In that case, they can come to me and ask,” I snarled. “You don’t need to come ambush me like the morality police. Are you going to measure my hem next?”

“I don’t see why you’re angry at me when I’m trying to help you! I came to you as a friend so they wouldn’t confront you! Is it so much to ask that you not go driving around with teenage boys?”

“It’s not like it was a fucking joy ride! He brought me a squirrel! He walked all the way up the west hill, so I gave him a ride home!”

“Why is he bringing you anything? If they need help with pests, why aren’t his parents calling you?”

I lurched up from my chair. “Because your precious pastor is just another asshole who’s cruel for sport and convenience,” I breathed. “He’s not any different or any better than any other schmuck in this town, so I don’t know why you’re so fucking anxious to impress him.”

I drew back. Evelyn was cringing against a stack of books, her hands white-knuckled around the strap of her bag. I sensed Millie behind one of the nearby shelves, a bundle of nerves and bated breath in my awareness. For a moment, the only sound was the floor creaking beneath our shifting weight.

Evelyn gathered herself. She flexed her fingers, crooked with arthritis, and I heard the soft pop of the tendons as she readjusted her bag. The rage coursing through me cooled instantly, crystalizing into regret. I reached for the magic, seeking a way to comfort her when I knew my words would fail, and came up empty.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I said. “I just don’t understand why you decided to take their side before you even talked to me. We’ve been friends a long time, and you hardly even know them.”

“I wasn’t taking anyone’s side,” Evelyn said coldly. “I was telling you how it looked. Seeing how defensive you got, though, maybe I shouldn’t have assumed you did nothing wrong.”

“Evelyn—”

“I have an appointment. Bye, Tess.”

Sudden panic filled me, rooted me to the spot. My supposed friends were already turning on me, and I had no power to stop it.

Evelyn stormed out, the heavy front door slamming behind her and leaving the library in even thicker silence than before. I sank back into my chair and stared unseeing at the open page of the book in front of me, a headache gathering steam behind my eyes. I shouldn’t have said anything at all about the pastor—now I’d pitted myself against him in Evelyn’s eyes, and her view would surely spread. For so long, my magic had helped quell any confrontation, and now my ability to manage conflict was rusty, my emotions too sharp and close to the surface.

I closed down my browser, gathered all my books into a neat pile, and stood. Millie appeared around a shelf as if she’d been waiting for me to leave. “Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked anxiously.

“Not exactly,” I said, “but I still learned a few things.”

She gave me a brief, sympathetic smile. “Well, good. Did you want to take any of these home?”

“No, thanks. Appreciate the help, Millie.”

The first wildlife call came early the next morning, just as I was finishing up the breakfast rounds. It was another young raccoon, apparently half-drowned in a rain barrel. I was surprised anyone had enough left in a rain barrel to attract a raccoon, let alone drown one. The woman who made the call was named Anne, and she didn’t seem to remember she’d called me every year the past six years to ask how deep was too deep for a birdbath.

“I thought he was dead,” she said, her voice loud with nerves. “Then my husband dumped it out and he started to move a little, but I don’t know. Still out there in my driveway.”

My magic had been particularly strong around drownings and prevented most of them, but I knew it wasn’t an uncommon call for a rehabilitator to get. With summers getting hotter, pools and garden water features were increasingly attractive to wildlife, and it was usually only a matter of time before a homeowner found an unpleasant surprise under their pool cover. I’d only dealt with a few instances myself, but they usually went one of two ways—either the animal was just exhausted and needed time to rest and regurgitate some water, or they were brain damaged from lack of oxygen and could never be returned to the wild. The fact that the raccoon was still in the driveway suggested the latter, if it could be saved at all.

As I left the barn, the fawn let out a single, plaintive bleat. I’d become accustomed to every manner of call and chirp and scream possible, and yet for some reason, this one went through me like a knife. I stopped in the middle of the aisle, physically fighting the urge to turn around. The rest of the barn was completely silent, as if every other animal was waiting to see what I’d do. I steeled my heart and kept walking, and as I shut the door behind me, I heard her call again.

I knew the way to Anne’s house by heart, and when I reached the little double-wide on the edge of the village, I saw the rain barrel tipped on its side amidst a forest of birdbaths, the bottom third rimed with green slime. The sodden bundle in the driveway was stiff and cold. I’d never felt guilty in these situations before, never had to—I rested easy knowing I’d done everything I could do to the best of my ability. Now, looking at the little paws splayed out in the slowly evaporating puddle, I was conscious that this life wouldn’t have been snuffed out if my magic were intact.

“I told her it was already dead,” Anne’s husband, Chris, said as I collected the body. “It was just twitching.”

“Make sure you cover your damn rain barrel,” was all I said.

The second call came in before I was even home from the first one, and this time it was a child’s voice that came down the line.

“Hello, is this the animal control lady?”

“Yes, it is, who’s this?”