“Ah.” Mr. Leary laid one finger alongside his nose, à la Saint Nicholas in “’Twas the Night Before Christmas.” “Forgive me for being trite, but there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. But that, my dear Daisy, is your bailiwick. I can tell you what history has or has not recorded of obeah. I cannot tell you if it works.”

After finishing my iced tea, I thanked Mr. Leary and headed back to Pemkowet to meet Jen for lunch.

Callahan’s Café is right downtown, but maybe because it’s only a block and a half from the police station, it’s always been more of a cop shop and local hangout than a tourist joint. It’s plain and unpretentious, a diner rather than a bistro; the kind of place where you can always get a decent sloppy joe or tuna salad sandwich. My mom has her own business as a seamstress now, but she waitressed here for a lot of years when I was growing up, so it holds fond memories for me.

“Hey, Daise!” Jen, already seated in a booth, waved me over. I slid into the seat across from her. Her brown eyes were sparkling with curiosity. “What’s the scoop? I’m dying! Were you out at Rainbow’s End last night? What happened out there, anyway? The whole town’s buzzing.”

“Oh, yeah.” I glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot, then leaned forward and lowered my voice. “I was there. And that’s just the beginning.”

I gave her the story. The whole story.

Jennifer Cassopolis and I have been best friends since high school, when her older sister, Bethany, took up with an insufferable vampire prat named Geoffrey Chancellor and I was the only person willing to go out to the House of Shadows with Jen to check on her. Eight years later, that situation’s still unresolved, but at least we check in on Bethany often enough to know she’s okay, or as okay as she can be under blood-thrall to a snotty vampire. Anyway, Jen and I are a good balance for each other. She grew up with a crappy home life: slutty older sister; abusive, alcoholic dad; battered mom; and a much younger brother she tries to protect.

Meanwhile, my mom’s great. Growing up, we had a pretty good home life under the circumstances. Jen used to take refuge there a lot when she couldn’t deal with her own situation. But then there’s the Belphegor factor. Demon father is a pretty big trump card, especially since he totally took advantage of my mom’s teenaged naïveté to knock her up when she accidentally summoned him with a Ouija board.