The Hilux bumped up the road to the farm, Velvet Revolver playing on the stereo. Alex kept a steady grip on the wheel, eyes fixed ahead, while Claire tried to explain what she'd felt at Kat's place.
"I don't know what it was, Al, but it's the most hostile thing I've ever felt. It was even worse than the Campbell sisters! And it's linked to both the music box and Felicity. I thought I'd choke when she saw her mother crying. But it cleared away as soon as she knew we intended to help them."
"It's gotta be a fucking cobolt," Alex grunted. "Now we gotta find out what kind of cobolt it is."
"A what?"
"A cobolt. An entity dwelling inside an object. It can be an elemental being or a ghost."
"Mind to elaborate for this poor mortal?"
"That's why we don't keep images at home, Claire. Garden gnomes? They're all occupied by real gnomes. Wooden owls, glass angels, those little witches you used to like so much. All occupied. The catch is the elementals that take object over are demanding and territorial. They won't suffer having their dwelling unattended or mistreated, let alone broken."
"This thing doesn't seem to be territorial, but protective. Maybe even to violent extents."
"Then it's gotta be a ghost. We gotta track the music box to find out whose ghost it is and what kind of violent episode that person was involved in."
"The violent even is mandatory?"
"Yeah, it explains its behavior."
"Oh, well, yeah, makes sense."
The fell silent for a few minutes, until Claire said, "Isn't it weird, this happening only two weeks after Rob's parasite?"
Alex opened her mouth, closed it again, set her jaw.
"Go ahead, say it."
"I told you so that night: it's a door that once open, you cannot close."
"But Rob's parasite has nothing to do with this."
"If you tune on a sports radio, you'll hear about football, baseball, basketball. Different stuff, but sports all the same."
"You mean the Campbell sisters, Rob's worm and now this—"
"Soon you'll realize we live surrounded by things and being you never even thought existed. They've always been there, but you didn't notice 'cause you didn't know how to. When you become aware of them, you can't help getting involved in this kind of situation anymore."
Claire took a moment to process Alex's explanation.
"But you've know about them since, like, forever."
"And I chose to shut them out long ago. Our lives were complicated enough back then to bring any supernatural mess into the picture."
Claire accepted the reproach underlying those words. She knew she'd earned it, so she didn't try to defend herself.
"I know you did it all to keep us safe, Al," she said gently. "But remember you're not alone in this anymore."
A warm smile softened Alex's face. "I know, kiddo. That's why you're coming with me now."
It was the first time in Claire's life that she was allowed into the sancta sanctorum of Old Bootter's workshop. She took a careful step in, and a moment later, she couldn't take her eyes away from the shelves full of dry herbs, the carved crates, the mysterious small trunks. She wowed out loud when she saw Alex open the safe, and what was inside. She swallowed a thousand questions about the million things stuffed in the small shed, because she didn't want to get on Alex's nerves and give her an excuse to shut her out of that wonderland.
"How can I help?" she asked instead, the queen of cautious.
Alex replied with her head pretty much into the safe.
"Right now, just don't touch anything." That was softer than Claire expected. "Some other day I'll teach you to use Grandpa's index."
So Claire waited, reading on the jars the labels written by Old Bootter when she was hardly a toddler. The contents of many of them were things everybody had in their kitchen. Some other seemed right out from a witch's cave in a bedtime story. She found an old album and dared to open it. No photographs, but a complete catalog of healing herbs, each sample labeled with the list of things it could be used for.
Alex grabbed a big book from the safe, and was closing it when her phone buzzed again. She picked up as she handed the book over to Claire.
"Hey, Pete," she said. "What? Okay, I'll be there in thirty."
"What is it?" Claire dared to ask as they left the workshop.
"He wouldn't say," Alex replied, closing the padlock and preceding the girl to the Hilux, parked under the old apple tree across the yard.
She drove absentminded, singing Velvet Revolver along under her breath, while Claire flicked through the book.
"So how're things going with George?" the girl asked out of the blue.
Alex didn't seem to listen.
"Al?"
"Sorry, you were saying?"
"I was asking about George."
"Oh. He's fine, I guess. He must be having dinner at Jill's with Pat and Markus."
"I was talking about you and George. You guys still dating?"
"Yeah. I mean, we're not really dating. We haven't even talked about it."
"Is there anything to talk about between you guys? George's head over hills for you, and since you didn't come home on Saturday night, I thought—"
Alex cut her off curtly. "Whatever suited you best. Spending the night with him doesn't mean anything. Claire. I spent a whole week sleeping with Aidan, and it didn't mean we were dating, right?"
"This is different, Al."
"Different how? Man, woman, sex. That's it."
"It's not, because George's in love with you."
Alex breathed deep and didn't reply.
Claire didn't insist, knowing her aunt was about to go off. And she did.
"I know he loves me, Claire! And that's why I don't wanna be alone with him right now. I don't wanna play with his feelings, 'cause I care about him."
"You care about him."
"Of course I do! Where's your fucking empathy? I used to be thrilled about being with him, but now— Shit! I cannot kiss him thinking about somebody else, Claire. He deserves way better!"
"Somebody else meaning Aidan."
"Who else? I know George wants to get more formal. He's so willing to commit, but I— I can't! Right now, I just can't."
Alex shook her head, trying to play annoyed, but Claire knew she was begging for understanding.
"You should tell him, Al. It's the right thing to do."
"I know," Alex growled. "But what should I say? I cannot tell him I'm having seconds thoughts about us 'cause I just met the hottest, funniest, rudest guy on earth."
"Yeah. I mean, no, you can't tell him that."
"Then what? Should I ask him for time to get over Aidan? Or should I expect him to be with me while I try to figure out whether I men my fucking soulmate?"
"Aidan's your twin soul, Al, not your soulmate."
"What?"
"You know what I mean. You and Aidan are just so the same! Watching you guys together was funny and scary at the same time. Ask Mark! But that doesn't make him the right fit for you. D'you actually know what it is you find so attractive about him?"
"His tight, firm butt."
"Waist up, you silly! Let me tell you: it's that both of you can tell what the other one is gonna say or do, and why, and how, at any given time. But that can only be fun for so long, Al. Can you picture yourself with him longer than a couple of weeks? What about a couple of months? Or a year? Or five!"
"I'd kill him in his sleep."
"Of course you would. 'Cause you guys share the same pros, but also the same cons. How would it be, having all your flaws doubled for the rest of your life?"
Alex let out a bitter chuckle, nodding, and sighed. "I know you're right, Claire. But I still can't process it in a rational way and let go. I will, in time, just not right now. And believe me, I do feel for George, and for myself too. 'Cause I really wanted to be with him. But I still can't let go."
"I know," Claire said softly.
"Now play that song again, kiddo. I love it, and you just spoiled it with your matchmaker preach."
"Which song?"
"Loving the Alien."
"Tell me about fitting titles."