Page 23 of Jacob Michaels is Not Here

Laughing again, I turned to her, letting her arm slide from mine. “Carlita…can I ask you a question that might seem odd?”

Her eyes lit up with a devilish glow.

“Those are my favorite sort of questions.”

“Have you ever met the man in the black hooded cloak?”

I asked the question firmly, evenly, making sure that my eyes locked with Carlita’s as I spoke. There was no point in pretending my question was a joke or that I might be testing her. Carlita had some answers. I was sure of it. For several tense, breathless seconds, though she didn’t bother to look shocked, Carlita stared at me. Finally, she sighed, an exhalation that seemed to come from the tips of her toes.

She crossed her arms over her chest again as she stared back at me, one eyebrow raised precipitously. “You know what? I suspected that you’d eventually put two-and-two together, being Esther Jean Wagner’s grandson after all. But I had no idea that people with the gift could be like…you.”

“Meaning?”

“More alluring than he.”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment.” I frowned.

“It’s not.” Carlita shrugged, though neither the gesture nor the words held malice. “The deadliest, wickedest creatures are usually the most enticing. Wouldn’t you agree?”

I couldn’t argue, so I shrugged.

“What business do you have with him?”

“Old,” I said, nodding slowly, my eyes locked on hers. “Very old business.”

She cackled loudly, her arms dropping to her sides.

“Old business is all he has.” Carlita continued to cackle as though I had said the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. “He has so much business that he hasn’t had time to make new enemies, has he?”

“How old is your business with him?”

Carlita waved a hand, and the air shimmered around us, like fumes rising from a gas puddle on hot cement in the middle of summer. Everything around us froze. The manager, who had been walking towards the back of the room stopped in place. The ceiling fans five feet above our heads stopped in mid-whirl, and everything was deathly silent. Carlita looked around slowly, her eyes twinkling, taking in her work before turning her attention back to me. The act was impressive—something I never could have done, no matter how much I had wanted or tried. But Carlita and I were like apples to oranges. There was no reason to be jealous of her power.

“I’m betting…Oracle?”

She presented me with a delighted smile.

“What else?” She held her hands up dramatically.

“The theatrics would have given it away if it hadn’t been for a little memory problem I’ve had for…well, a while.”

Carlita just grinned, her hands going to her hips, marveling at her magics working around us. It was impressive, I had to give her that. The little magic I had was impressive by most standards, but what Carlita had whipped up on a whim was downright outstanding. Of course, I had a lot of questions, and Carlita had essentially stopped time, so I was going to take advantage of the situation.

“How long has Oma known?”

She shrugged. “We knew each other before she came to Point Worth.”

I nodded.

“Is it rude to ask a lady how old she is?”

“Carlita would never reveal her age!” She gasped playfully. “But Carlos might tell you that your grandmother was not the first—or even second or third—Wagner he’s dealt with.”

Her eyes were practically twinkling.

“Got it,” I said. “Can you tell me if there is any point in trying to avoid what seems inevitable? What will happen if I…if I face him?”

Carlita leaned in conspiratorially. “You know he’s not a ‘he,’ right? Well, it’s not a ‘she,’ either, I suppose. They’re all things at all times, appearing as they are expected to look—what a person expects them to look like at any given time. It is interesting that they appear to you as the man in the long black coat, though, right?”