Synchronized Sorcery by Juliet Blackwell

Author:Juliet Blackwell [Blackwell, Juliet]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2021-07-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

“What’s for dinner?” Oscar asked for the third time in fifteen minutes.

“I’m not sure, but if Sailor’s cooking tonight, I imagine he’ll insist on a higher proportion of vegetables to carbs than you are comfortable with. Good thing you just ate that huge bowl of popcorn.”

“Popcorn isn’t food,” Oscar said. “It’s practically all air.”

“And the butter?”

Oscar blinked. “Why would you eat popcorn without butter?”

This is a question I’ve asked all my life. “Why don’t you go finish your movie, and I’ll root around the kitchen and come up with a couple of options. And then, I dunno, maybe you and Sailor can have a knife fight or arm wrestle or something to see who gets to choose.”

“I can’t hardly hear the movie, what with all that racket.”

“What racket?”

“Sailor makes a racket when he goes into a trance.”

“No, he doesn’t. He’s completely silent.”

“Well, sure, silent on this realm. You’re saying you don’t hear that screeching sound?”

“I thought that was your movie.”

“Ha!” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Not that kind of screeching.”

I shook my head. “Maybe it’s like they say, some sounds are silent to human ears but the dogs can hear them.”

“You’re calling me a dog now? I’m a dog in this scenario?” My familiar had a penchant for quoting from whatever movie or book he had just seen or read. In an attempt to steer Oscar away from horror movies, recently I had suggested the old classic When Harry Met Sally.

“Don’t be silly,” I said. Oscar did not like to be compared to a domesticated animal, no matter how adorable. “But maybe the noise thing won’t be much of a problem in the future. Sailor was talking to the landlord about renovating the attic. If it works out, it would double the size of our apartment because the attic extends clear to the next building.”

“He find any ghosts up there?”

“Nary a one,” I said.

“It would be nice to have more room,” Oscar said, looking thoughtful. “I know Sailor’s your husband, mistress, and he’s all right most of the time, but I ain’t gonna lie: He’s been kinda underfoot around here.”

“I appreciate your tolerance, Oscar,” I said, keeping a straight face. “You are a true gentleman.”

He nodded. “S’okay. But still, a rehab project could be worse than ghosts, if you ask me. It’s no fun living on a construction site. Take it from me.”

“At what point in your life did you live on a construction site?”

“You kiddin’ me? Those old castles need constant maintenance, amiright? Hey, Sailor! What’s for dinner?”

I turned to see Sailor standing in the hall. He always looked a little vague after emerging from a trance, as if he wasn’t sure of the time and place.

“Anything?” I asked.

“Yes—flowering eel grass. Murkiness. And tragedy.”

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