Tarnished and Torn by Juliet Blackwell Page A

herself?”
    “Don’t be naive. You know as well as I do that even with such an amulet, only highly powerful exorcists could manage to quell a demon. Most would fall under the demon’s spell, rather than the other way around. Even just having such a ring in one’s possession takes power, much less using it.”
    “Well, anyway . . . she didn’t give me anything,” I lied again, just to be on the safe side.
    “One more thing: Did you notice a hair amulet?”
    I thought about the hair I saw in Griselda’s room at the inn. But that hair was “raw”—it hadn’t been put into a charm or brew yet. “What would it look like?”
    “It doesn’t look much like hair, more like twine or silk braided or woven into an intricate, tight design. Women used to make them for their sweethearts, to protect them when they went off to war.”
    Back in the day people were wildly resourceful and used whatever they had at hand . . . also, in all magical systems, hair was considered to be a powerful memento. It carried a bit of our personal magic within the strands of DNA.
    “I haven’t seen anything like that. But why are you asking?”
    “Just trying to narrow down what kind of practitioner she might be. A lot of German Rom use hair in their magic, for instance. And such amulets are often used to disguise oneself as powerless, to fly around the radar, I think you say.”
    I heard a woman’s voice in the background, and Hans answered her in a muffled voice.
    “I’m sorry. I should let you go,” I said, realizing belatedly that it might be awkward for Hans to be receiving calls from ex-girlfriends this late at night, even if he wasn’t asleep. Actually,
especially
if he wasn’t asleep.
    “Let me take your contact information,” Hans said. “I’ll ask around and I’ll let you know what I find out. And Lily? Keep your guard up. It really is great to hear from you . . . once things have settled down a little, I’d love to catch up.”
    I agreed and hung up, my hand resting on the receiver for a moment while I pondered.
    Griselda had several rings on her fingers and dozens in her display. But surely something so valuable—a ring used in demon exorcism—wouldn’t have been out in plain sight. I thought back on the Gem Faire, closing my eyes and trying to visualize what I had seen. I couldn’t remember anything that might have been a hair amulet, but for all I knew she was wearing it under her T-shirt. And if such an amulet disguised one’s power, that would help explain why I hadn’t felt the aura of a practitioner.
    The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized Griselda had been trying to tell me something while I stood at her stand. Her long gazes, her suggestion I return to see her after the show or come by the Morning House B and B, or mentioning she might come see me. I wished I had followed my instincts rather than telling myself I was overreacting. She had been scared of something, but unable to say or do anything obvious to ask for help. Had someone been watching us both?
    And perhaps most germane: Could I have saved her, had I been more perceptive or on the ball?
    The image of Griselda’s body again forced its way to the forefront of my thoughts. I stroked my medicine bag and realized that while I had failed to help her, I could at least help find her killer. It was the very least I could do.
    I spent the next half hour in a frustrating search for every ring that might have been acquired at the Gem Faire.
    The moment Bronwyn and Maya walked in, toting canvas bags full of fragrant herbs and spices, I asked, “Do either of you remember taking any rings out of the cardboard box?”
    “Um, yeah. A few, I think,” Maya replied.
    “Is there a problem?” Bronwyn asked, looking worried.
    “No, not really. Just curious.”
    While Bronwyn put away her packages, Maya scouted out two more rings from our Gem Faire excursion, and then picked a few out of my pile on the counter.
    “These were the ones