Page 65 of Demon's Bluff
Because Laura is a witch and can invoke any charms we might need,I thought. The scent of redwood almost rolled off her as she set the tray down.
“Coffee,” Elyse said as she helped herself, taking a cookie as well. “Mmmm, thank you.”
I stood as Sylvia unpacked the hats. “I brought an assortment of slippers, too,” the older woman said as I came forward to finger the robes. There were more than two there, all of them the requested color but not all of them silk. “You’re a size nine, right? And seven and a half, narrow toe box?”
“Damn, you’re good.” Elyse delicately nibbled the edge of a cookie.
“It’s my job.” Sylvia smiled. “I brought out the synthetic robes, too. They will look exactly the same.”
“Looks aren’t everything.” I stood before the rack, touching each robe until a soft shiver lifted through me.Silk…“This is beautiful,” I said as I fondled a gold sleeve. The shift to black at the hem was exquisite. Immediately I slipped it from the hanger and shrugged into it.
The silk robe iced over me like a cool breeze, lightweight and protective. I chose the sash with the most bells, wrapping the robe closed and tying it snugly. Immediately my shoulders dropped as I felt the new barrier between me and the world soothing my aura. “Perfect.” I stepped onto the stage, delighted to see the faint pattern of a winding Chinese dragon in the silk. “Oh…”
Sylvia was right there, tugging at the fit around the shoulder. “If you can wait a few weeks, I can get one without the dragon.”
“No, I like it.” I suddenly realized I’d never bought a spelling robe for myself. Always they had been gifted, and satisfaction stole over me as I used the ties in the sleeves to bind them about my elbows where they belonged, making that little pocket as Al had shown me.
“And a hat completes the ensemble.” Sylvia stood by the rack, a hand hovering over the traditional pointy hat, and I shook my head. “Flat-top it is,” she said cheerfully enough, and I took it from her, feeling good as I fitted it on my head. I shifted one way, then the other, tiny bells ringing. The boots were off, but Sylvia had brought slippers, and I trusted her guesstimate fit.
“This is perfect.” I got down so Elyse could get in front of the mirror. “Elyse, let’s see.”
Elyse looked up from the shadows, where Laura had been helping her tie her sash, bells ringing. She had a pointy hat on her head, and I cringed. Her institutional-white tennies stuck out more than my boots, and her sleeves were bound wrong, but at least it was the proper robe and not the flamboyant red she wanted.
“Under the lights,” I prompted again, and the young woman gathered her robe and stepped up as if it was a waste of time.
“Good.” I brusquely took the hat off and handed it to Sylvia. “Let me retie your sleeves.”
Elyse yanked away from me. “I know how to tie sleeves.”
Scowling, I undid the ties. “You know how to tie sleeves,” I agreed as I twisted the fabric to make a pocket before tying them off. “You don’t know how to tie them right. Hat?”
Sylvia handed her a flat-top and Elyse put it on—the wrong way.
“This is a man’s hat,” Elyse complained, her head down as Sylvia fingered her freshly tied sleeves. “I look ridiculous.”
“That’s because you have it on wrong,” I said as I pushed it to sit squarely on her head instead of halfway off like a halo.
“What difference is it going to make?” Elyse complained. Until her gaze went to the mirror and she blinked. “Oh…” she said, leaning forward to hide her shoes. “Huh.”
Pleased, I nodded. The hat did look better, but it was going to be the sleeves that would stop Newt’s instinct to shoot spells first and ask questions later. Hats could be mimicked, but the peculiar twist and tie of our sleeves was unknown outside of the ever-after. Until now.
And as Sylvia continued to frown and finger Elyse’s sleeve, I began to wish I had waited until we had left before I had tied them correctly.
“Laura, will you tend the front desk?” Sylvia said softly, and the young woman left, taking the empty cookie plate with her. “You’ve worn spelling robes like this before?” the woman asked when the door had shut, and I felt myself warm.
“Occasionally,” I admitted as I arranged Elyse’s sash so that the ends were the same length. Elyse was eyeing herself in a new light. So was Sylvia, making me wonder if she was seeing past the glamour. It was her job. “These are an exceptional quality.”
Sylvia put a hand on her hip, a calculating gaze fixed on Elyse. “They are spell-worthy,” she said, attention flicking to me. “Authenticity is what we are known for. Everything works.”
“It’s perfect.” I jingled the bells on Elyse’s sash, feeling like a demon all of a sudden.
“Perfect, except that neither of you look like a ley professor,” Sylvia said. “The hat is wrong, and they don’t utilize bells on the sash. We had these for the Arabian Nights courtesan.”
Elyse stopped swaying, her gaze finding mine in her reflection. “She’s right,” she said. “What are the bells for? You asked for them specifically.”
I cringed, not wanting to talk about it in front of Sylvia. “Ah, it’s to confuse mystics that might be attracted to high magic? Or so I’ve heard.”
Sylvia went to the table and picked up the coffee carafe. “If you tell me what you’re trying for, I can be of more help.” Silent, she poured out a cup of coffee, her expression waiting.