Cortez smiled. "I must admit, you two do have a unique predilection for creating new challenges."

"Unique," Savannah said. "He means we're special."

"Uh-huh."

We reentered the house the same way we'd left, coming through the woods, then darting across the yard and in the back door. A quick peek out the front confirmed that such caution was still warranted. There were still three or four people camped out on my lawn. One of them had even erected a pup tent. Maybe I should have started charging site rental fees.

After sending Savannah off to bed, I called Margaret.

The conversation went something like this:

Me: Ummm, we had a problem with your car…

Her: An accident! Oh, dear, no. My insurance rates-

Me: Not an accident. We're all fine, including the car.

We just had to ditch it.

Her: You drove it into the ditch?

Me: Sorry, I meant "abandon." The police saw the license number and-

Her: Police?

Me: Everything's fine, but when the police find it, say it was stolen.

Her: Stolen?

Me: Right. Say it was in the driveway when you went to bed and you never saw it again. Don't mention the keys.

And if the police say anything about the cemetery-

Her: Cemetery?

Me: Tell them you don't know anything about it.

Her: But I don't!

Me: Good. Whatever they say, you know nothing. You haven't seen me in days. If they find my prints in your car, it's because I borrowed it last month, okay?

Her: Prints? Do you mean fingerprints? What on earth have you-

Me: Gotta go. Thanks for letting us borrow the car. I'll make it up to you. Bye.

When I walked into the living room, Cortez was standing in front of the television, flipping through channels.

"TV," I said as I collapsed onto the sofa. "Great invention. The perfect mindless antidote for a hellish day. So what's on?"

"Night of the Living Dead."

"Ha-ha."

"I'm quite serious."

He turned back a few channels and stopped on a black-and-white image of the moaning undead lurching around a farmhouse.

"Kinda looks familiar," I said. "Haven't I seen this before?"

"Yesterday," he said. "In the funeral home."

"No, that's not it. Those undead were much scarier. And they didn't lurch. Well, Cary did, but only 'cause he was kind of squashed. Hmmm, where have I seen this?

Ghouls surrounding a house, trapping the inhabitants within, refusing to leave. Wait! That's my front lawn. Look, there's a naked woman! Bet she's a Wiccan."

Cortez chuckled. "I'm glad you can laugh about it."

I hesitated, then glanced over at him. "You know, if this gets to be too much… I mean,this isn't quite the nice, easy court case you probably imagined. I'd understand if you wanted to back out."

"And miss all the fun?" He shot a crooked grin my way. "Never."

We looked at each other a moment, then he quickly turned to the TV and started channel-surfing.

"No, wait," I said. "Go back to the movie. I could use some light entertainment. Flesh-eating zombies might be just the ticket."

He returned to the old movie, then glanced from the recliner to the couch, as if trying to decide where to sit. I gestured at the other end of the sofa. He nodded and sat beside me.

"What're we watching?" Savannah said, bouncing into the room wearing her nightgown.

"Paige and I are watching Night of the Living Dead. You are going to bed."

"I just conjured a cemetery full of spirits. I think I'm old enough to watch a horror movie." She plopped into the recliner. "Do we have chips or anything?"

"You think I've been shopping lately?" I said. "Pretty soon we'll be down to pickles and preserves."

"Are those the zombies?" she said. "Talk about lame."

"It's an old film," I said. "The special effects aren't very advanced."

"What special effects? That's a guy with mascara smeared under his eyes. I've seen scarier people at the mall."

"Did Paige tell you to go to bed, Savannah?" Cortez said.

"Oh, fine," she said. "It's a dumb movie anyway."

She flounced from the room. A few minutes later, I sighed.

"It is a pretty dumb movie," I said. "But I'm too wired to sleep."

"I, uh, believe you mentioned something about new grimoires?"

I sat up. "Geez, that's right. I almost forgot. I wanted to try them out tonight."

"You were, I believe, going to tell me…" He let the sentence fade out.

I grinned. "I was going to tell you about them, wasn't I?"

So I did.

Chapter 38

Pressure Valve

"IT'S POSSIBLE," HE SAID WHEN I FINISHED TELLING HIM about the grimoires.

"Possible? Are you saying my logic is flawed?"

"I wouldn't dare. I'm simply saying that it makes sense and, therefore, it's possible. Non-Coven witches have been using sorcerer magic for generations. It would be good to see them get their own back."

I smiled. "Would it? You know what it would mean, don't you? These spells could level the playing field."

"As it should be."

I leaned back into the sofa cushions. "Is this the same guy who made a crack about the 'hereditary limitations' of witch powers?"