Page 55 of Soft Flannel Hank

Found grimoire. Send me the address to overnight it.

Esther was about to stand to go ask Hank for his address but stopped herself. It was quiet upstairs. He was closed away in his room, and Esther had no desire to breach that sanctuary again. She texted Magda and asked if she could have something overnighted to her house. Magda agreed and sent her address.

Moments passed. Esther stared out the window at the afternoon light, which was rapidly failing into late fall dusk. Another ding. Another text from Magda.

I’m sending someone to see you. You need more friends.

Her name’s Marjory. She’s on her way.

Tell Hank to put pants on.

Esther laughed, but it caught on a sob in her throat.

Thanks for the notice, Magda. What if I’d been busy?

I told you to make sure Hank had pants on, didn’t I?

I could have things to do.

Pants. On. Now.

She looked down at her own outfit. She was wearing shorts that she’d made by cutting off an ex-boyfriend’s sweatpants and a Nitty Gritty Dirt Band T-shirt that was the softest thing she owned. And her knee-high rainbow socks that her grandmother had knit that she’d worn for the past two days because they were comforting.

It was a fine outfit to wear around the house with the man you wanted to push into the couch cushions and destroy. It wasn’t the best outfit for making new friends. She hurried upstairs and put on a pair of leggings instead, making sure that she grabbed the ones that didn’t have a hole in the crotch, and an oversized sweater. As she walked out of her bedroom—Anna’s bedroom,she quickly corrected—she glanced at the end of the hall to Hank’s room. The door was closed. No light shone from under the crack.

She wondered if he was asleep. Or if he was lying in bed listening to her move around the house. With a sigh, she turned and went back downstairs just as a knock sounded at the back door. Esther peeked around the corner and saw long, glossy, black hair through the mini-blinds on the mudroom door.

“Esther?” a husky voice called out. “I’m Marjory. Jory. Magda told you I was coming?”

Esther disappeared behind the wall back into the kitchen and took a deep breath, checking in with herself. No warning bells. No red alerts from her body. Her intuition hummed quietly. She took a deep breath and went through the mudroom to open the door. A cold wind blew Jory in.

“Hello,” she said brightly.

Esther took her in. She was a little shorter than Esther, with coal-black hair that hung in thick waves to her waist. Her skin was nearly the ochre color of clay, rich and warm and deep, dotted with freckles like Esther’s own. Her eyes lookedalmostright. They were such a bright green that Esther thought that Jory must be wearing color contacts. But the color didn’t slide across her eyes when she blinked the way a contact lens would.

Esther didn’t know what Jory was, but Jory most definitelywasn’thuman.

Of course Magda wouldn’t send her a human friend. Esther found herself smiling. She was about to tell Jory to take her shoes off, but the newcomer was already sliding out of them and nudging them under the bench.

It was then that Esther was able to take her in fully. She’d been wearing leather mules with a harness buckle across the top. She had on a black jumpsuit with wide, cropped legs and a denim jacket underneath a quilted duster coat and lots of chunky, silver jewelry. She looked like she stepped right out of a catalog for the trendy, boho store that Esther had never been able to afford.

“Esther,” Jory said, a burgundy-lip-stained smile cracking wide across her face, revealing a slight gap between her front teeth and sharp-looking canines. Not fangs, Esther was relieved to see, but sharp nonetheless.

“Jory,” Esther replied, with a toothless smile that felt no less big. “Come on in.”

Jory took off the quilted duster and hung it on a hook before following Esther into the kitchen.

“Something to drink?”

“Water, please,” Jory replied, and Esther was glad she didn’t ask for tea or another beverage that Esther wouldn’t have known where to find. But she remembered where the water glasses were and went to the sink to fill them.

“Sorry it’s tap,” she said, apologetically.

“Water’s water,” Jory replied with a wry look on her face.

“Ice?”

“Please.”