Wolf Hunted, стр. 27
I found a photo in the satchel. A photo of me, on my deck. A photo that clearly showed magic.
I’m not one to swear. Swearing was seen as the antithesis of eloquence. Eloquence was something I cultivated to make myself less lumbering and monstrous. But sometimes the universe needed to be reminded that not everything it did was appreciated.
Rose’s notebook didn’t seem to care about the photo. It didn’t give me a new special object, or even a hint of magic. The notebook just was, so I slipped it into the satchel and hung it on the hook.
I took the photo with me as I walked around my house to the path leading away from my deck. I set it on the rail and flipped open the school notebook containing my Ellie notes. I could take photos of each page, of notes that clearly showed anxiety about not remembering Chihiro’s address. Of the kangaroo I must have drawn. Of the story about San Francisco.
That photo was in the satchel, which meant it had been dropped inside by someone, probably me. The plate was a daguerreotype with sepia overtones, but in color. And it was cocooned in magic.
Ellie had taken it. When I didn’t know, but it showed me, if not happy, at least calm during my time sunning under a morning sun.
The one time of day I never, ever remembered Ellie or my attempts to find her.
I swore again. “I don’t like mixed messages,” I said out into the trees. Not that this message was mixed. If anything, it was as clear as the sunshine in the photo.
I set the photo aside and opened the notebook to the first clean page. Then I set it to the side also, and I pulled out the pen.
The marker would cling to the cellphone box’s cellophane window. I scrawled Chihiro’s number and address are in the memory across the plastic, then So are mine. I’d also had the guy at the store copy over my entire cache of Ellie notes.
Then I picked up the notebook. I don’t know what to do, I wrote. Should I tell her how frustrating the clues she left behind were? When was the last time I talked to her? What did she need? Because I was losing my patience.
Your bike needs extra repairs. I’ll find you a new one, I added. Then I set the box on top of the notebook of Ellie's information.
The night was clear, if cool. The phone and the book would be fine out on the deck all night. If they were still here in the morning, I guessed I’d have myself a frustrating moment of trying to figure out why I’d left them on the rail in the first place.
I capped the marker, tucked it into my pocket, and pulled out my phone. Best to add a note to my notes about why I left the notebook. I snapped a photo and added it to the app.
Shadows moved out in the trees. I’d better go in before the forgetting I never remembered descended on my poor…
I looked back at Akeyla putting away her pencils. Why had I come out here? We were about to eat.
I rubbed my frustrated head.
My phone buzzed. A message popped up. You have not texted this week. I thought it best to check in.
The name said Chihiro Hatanaka.
Who the hell—wait, the two kitsune in Las Vegas connected us. Chihiro lived in Japan and was helping me to…
I couldn’t remember. I looked out at the lake, then back at the house. Why was I outside? It was dinnertime. Akeyla sat at the table with her colored pencils and I’d come out here to… What?
You’re helping me with something, I responded. I don’t remember what.
Concealment enchantments, she responded.
Enchantments? Had the kitsune set me up because they knew about our French interloper before we did? How did I get lucky enough to get this contact? Are you a kami? I asked.
Because if she was kami, I could be calling more trouble down on Alfheim.
Chihiro texted back an indication of laughter. No, no, she answered. I am a researcher.
Researcher?
The evening’s reset has already happened, she texted. I can give insight.
I walked toward the house. Insight is exactly what I need, I responded.
I will do my best, Mr. Victorsson, she answered.
Finally, some good news. Thank you, I texted, and set about making the most of this random opportunity.
Chapter 12
About a year ago, Chihiro had stumbled into Ellie’s concealment enchantments.
Ellie, it seemed, found a small measure of peace in places kami walked, and they’d met at a temple that day. Chihiro carried no memory of Ellie, but had felt a connection anyway. They’d come to enjoy the spring weather and the cherry blossoms. It had been a lovely day, but a chill had settled onto Ellie. She’d borrowed Chihiro’s jacket.
Ellie had felt the return pull, the one that set off each evening’s reset. She’d left Chihiro’s company early, because the farther away she was from her cottage, the more unpleasant the move. She’d forgotten to return the borrowed jacket.
When Chihiro realized she did not have her keys, and had left them in a pocket, she’d run in the direction Ellie had gone.
The cottage, Chihiro said, must have been distracted by its nightly closing to the world. Distracted and metamorphosing into whatever it became when it reset, because Chihiro had walked right up to the front door.
If Chihiro could do it, so could I. I just needed to find the cottage. Or ask Ellie where she lived, which I had obviously never done.
Chihiro said that not once had she thought to ask Ellie about her home, or to follow, or to look for the cottage the many times they had talked prior to her accidently following Ellie. She suspected the hiding of location information was part of the concealment enchantments, and that I’d have to figure out a way to circumvent that bit of slight-of-hand, unless I, too,