John hit the buzzer again. “It’s still worth a shot.”
The door opened, and a woman who looked a lot like a blond Tina Turner from one of Link’s favorite movies, Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome, stood on the other side.
“You only need to ring the bell once,” she said.
“Sorry about that, ma’am,” John said.
“The name’s Magnolia Blue.”
“Maybe you can help us, Ms. Blue,” John continued. “We’re looking for the Girl with the Velvet Voice.”
The woman’s eyes widened and she gasped, staring back at him from behind her wild mane. “Only one person has ever called me that. But there’s no way—”
Link took another look at her hair, remembering the photo Robert Johnson had showed him of the Caster girl he’d left behind.
Could she be the same person?
“This might sound crazy, but Robert Johnson sent us, ma’am,” Link said.
The woman brought a hand to her lips. “Is Bobby all right?”
Sampson shrugged. “Sure. For a guy who’s trapped in a house by himself, in the middle of nowhere.”
“I knew he wasn’t dead,” she whispered, her eyes welling.
Lucille circled Magnolia Blue’s ankle, purring, which made Link feel better. Lucille was a pretty good judge of character.
A lot better than me, anyway.
Magnolia Blue bent down and scratched Lucille’s ears. “Why did Bobby send you to see me?”
“He said you might be able to help us,” Necro said.
She swallowed hard like it was difficult for her to talk about him. “If Bobby wants me to help you, I’ll do whatever I can. Come on in.”
Inside, the shop seemed even more like a tourist trap. Alligator-foot key chains and bottles of powder with labels like BAT WING and LOVE ROOT were lined up on the shelves above papier-mâché skeletons dressed in tuxes and top hats. Link wasn’t sure why the skeletons were dressed like they were going to prom, but they looked about as authentic as Barbie dolls.
Necro eyed a taxidermy caiman and scrunched up her nose. “We’re looking for Ravenwood Oaks, Abraham Ravenwood’s plantation. Mr. Johnson told us you’re the Caster Archivist, so you might know where to find it.”
“I’m not sure how Bobby heard about that, but he shouldn’t be telling people,” Magnolia Blue said. “I can’t do my job if everyone knows I’m the one doing it.”
Liv cleared her throat. “Ms. Blue? I’m studying to be a Keeper, and I’ve never heard of a Caster Archivist. So I have to ask … what exactly is your job?”
“Relax. I’m not trying to steal yours, darling. When the Order of Things was broken, it caused unforeseen changes in both the Caster and Mortal worlds. It’s my responsibility to identify and monitor those changes.”
“I thought things settled down after the New Order replaced the old one,” Liv said.
Magnolia Blue gave her a knowing look. “If you’re talking about weather anomalies and insect infestations, then I suppose it would look that way. But the New Order gave us a lot more than a new breed of Supernaturals.” She smiled at Sampson. “Like you, from the look of it.”
He nodded, and she continued. “The New Order also upset the balance in every realm—Caster, Mortal, the Otherworld, even the Abyss.”
The Abyss—the demon realm where terrifying creatures like Vexes were trapped until a nutbag like Abraham Ravenwood summoned them. It wasn’t Link’s favorite subject. He picked up an alligator-foot key chain and dangled it in the air. “What do these things have to do with the New Order?”
Magnolia Blue snapped her fingers, and the air shifted in front of the shelves like heat waves rising off hot asphalt. The tux-clad skeletons and potion bottles blurred, transforming into rows of books and unfamiliar objects—a glowing compass and a weird clock with pictures around the face like the images on a tarot deck.
Link pointed at it. “Hey, Liv, that thing looks like your crazy watch.”
Liv turned to Magnolia Blue. “Is that a selenometer?”
The Caster Archivist noticed Liv’s watch-that-wasn’t-a-watch and smiled. “It measures the moon’s gravitational pull.”
Liv nodded, mesmerized. “It’s a real beauty. Perhaps the finest I’ve ever seen.”
Sampson walked over to a map on the wall. “Nice illusion.”
The wild-haired Caster frowned. “I’m not an Illusionist.”
Floyd frowned. “What do you mean? I haven’t seen an illusion like that in years.”
“While I appreciate the compliment”—Magnolia Blue fluttered her fingers at a jar of change next to the register, and it transformed into a margarita glass—“I don’t disguise things. I change them.” She took a sip of the drink.
“A Shifter. I should’ve known.” Floyd said it the way the girls on the Cheer Squad in Gatlin said Pep Squad.
“Aren’t Illusionists and Shifters kinda the same? You know, like lions and tigers?” Link asked, anxious to change the subject. The finer points didn’t matter. Right now, he was more interested to know if Magnolia Blue’s powers could do more than just tell them where to find the plantation.
Like save Rid.
Link was only half-listening when he realized Liv was answering his question. “Illusionists can alter the way a thing looks. Shifters change the object itself.” Liv’s eyes lingered over the collection of strange instruments on the shelves, until she finally turned back to Magnolia Blue. “I can’t believe the Keepers don’t know anything about all this, or about you.”