Witch out of Time

by Elle Adams

  “You’re not still sleeping on Nina’s sofa, are you?” he asked.

  “It’s that or my own sofa, next to Aveline’s snoring.” I shuddered.

  “There’s another option,” he said. “My place, for instance.”

  My heart missed a beat. “You’re not on the night shift?”

  “No.” He put down his beer glass. “It’s up to you.”

  “Yes. I mean, I’d rather sleep in a pigsty than next to Aveline. Not that I’m implying your house is a pigsty…”

  Why could I never get through a serious conversation without getting tongue-tied? Nathan and I were serious. Staying over at his house shouldn’t be that big a deal.

  “It’s that or I stand outside your door all night,” he said. “I wanted to last night, but I was on double security duty. I worried about you, considering everything that happened.”

  My mood sobered a little. “You think the killer’s going to come back? We’re down two suspects—three, counting Aveline.”

  “Whatever the killer’s aim is, they’re not done yet.”

  No kidding. And we’d find out before Samhain was over, one way or another. If I could forget it all, just for one night, I might have the strength to see tomorrow through.

  12

  I woke up on Samhain in the best mood I’d been in all week, which improved tenfold when I opened my eyes to the smell of delicious coffee.

  “You’re amazing.” I accepted the mug from Nathan, my eyes half-closed. “Thought you had an early shift.”

  “I do,” he said. “You can go back to sleep if you like.”

  Sky prodded me in the side and then climbed onto my lap, and I held the mug high to avoid spilling coffee everywhere. “Miaow.”

  “Good morning to you, too.” I scratched him behind his ears with my free hand. “I didn’t hear him come in.”

  “He wandered in here an hour ago and fell asleep on my head.”

  “Ah.” I sipped my coffee. “I take it you’re going to be patrolling at the ceremony?”

  “Assuming it goes ahead, yes.” He opened the curtains, which showed that the day was as foggy as the previous one. At least it wasn’t raining.

  I put my coffee down on the bedside table as my phone buzzed.

  “Expecting a call?” Nathan asked.

  “No…” I picked it up. “Alissa?”

  “Blair.” Her voice was breathless. “You’d better come back home now.”

  “Why? Is someone else dead?”

  Her silence went on a second too long. I jumped upright, knocking my coffee mug flying.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Nathan said to my hastened apologies. “Go on, see what she wants. Please be careful out there.”

  I threw my clothes on and left Sky sleeping, figured he deserved a nap before the ceremony. My feet hardly touched the ground as I flew home in a breathless sprint.

  Alissa waited in the hall. “Blair, it’s Shannon. I think she’s dead.”

  “Oh, no.” My gaze immediately went to our flat. “Does Aveline know?”

  “I haven’t dared wake her yet,” she admitted. “I called my grandmother, but I wanted to know if you could see anything here that shouldn’t be.”

  “Come quickly,” Nina’s faint voice came from upstairs. “The smell is making me nauseous.”

  I frowned. “That’s not Shannon’s room.”

  Alissa took the stairs two at a time. “I know. Hurry, before the others wake up.”

  I followed Alissa upstairs and found Nina waiting at the top. Without a word, she pushed open the door into the Rosemary witches’ room.

  Shannon’s body lay sprawled in the room’s centre, flat on her face, a bloody wound on the back of her head.

  I clapped a hand to my mouth. “Who did this?”

  “Whoever they were, they crept up on her from behind,” Alissa said. “See anything?”

  I dragged my gaze from Shannon’s limp body and scanned the room. “No. When did you find her?”

  “Five minutes before I called you. Nina found her first.”

  Nina edged into the room, her face ashen. “I heard footsteps on the stairs about twenty minutes before I found the body, but I was half asleep at the time. If I’d come sooner…”

  “It’s not your fault,” I said. “What was Shannon even doing in here? The twins have left.”

  “Maybe she wanted their room,” said Alissa doubtfully. “I called my grandmother, but she’s stressed enough about the ceremony without us piling this on her.”

  “What was the murder weapon?” asked Nina. “It looks like she got hit with a heavy object.”

  “The sceptre?” I averted my gaze, feeling sick. “Why not use the same spell they used on Grace?”

  “Haven’t a clue.” Alissa’s mouth pinched. “I’m going to call the police. I know the last thing we need is Steve in our house—unless Nathan’s free?”

  “No, he’s on duty.” I looked around the room again in case I’d missed anything, but saw nothing out of place aside from Shannon’s body. But what had Shannon been doing in here? It wasn’t even her room. “Were they trying to take out the competition before the ceremony?”

  “Speaking of which,” Nina said. “How is Madame Grey supposed to go ahead with the ceremony with nearly all the Head Witch hopefuls dead or missing, and no sceptre?”

  “Exactly,” I said. “Alissa, has Aveline been asleep all night? Did you hear anything from her room?”

  “I used an earplug charm, but she can’t climb the stairs without help,” she answered. “She’s not under any kind of spell or potion—I checked.”

  Right… the spell for agitation and confusion. We never figured out who did that either.

  “She’s back to her friendly self, then?” I said.

  “Yep,” said Nina. “You should be glad you weren’t here. She and Vanessa got into an argument over the Rosemary witches.”

  “Does Madame Grey seem bothered that they’re gone?” I asked.

  Alissa looked up from her phone. “You think they came back and killed her?”

  “Maybe it was a cover.” I was grasping at straws now. “I don’t know, I’m making it up as I go along now. I’m tired.”

  “Busy night with Nathan,” she said, with a grin.

  Heat rose to my cheeks, and I elbowed her in the ribs. “Oi. Cut it out.”

  “You shouldn’t have teased me about Samuel.”

  “Who?” said Nina.

  “Her vampire ‘friend’.”

  Alissa coughed. “We flirted for about four seconds. Hardly life partner material.”

  “You never know. Nathan and I met when he almost arrested me for trespassing.” I jumped at the sound of a door opening downstairs. “Is that the police?”

  Aveline’s voice drifted upstairs. “What are you lot shouting about?”

  “Shannon’s dead,” I told her. “The police are on their way to question everyone, so I’d suggest you get ready.”

  I didn’t wait for a reply. I ran downstairs and was halfway down the hall when the door to my flat blew open and Aveline marched out, still wearing her flowery dressing gown. “Thought it was funny to take an old woman’s walking stick, did you?”

  “What’s the problem this time?” I had no patience whatsoever for her drama when someone sneaked in here while I’d been gone—where my friends were sleeping—and committed murder. Ignoring the Head Witch, I banged on the door to the other flat.

  Vanessa emerged, looking bewildered. “What is going on?”

  “I can’t find my walking stick!” yelled Aveline.

  Perhaps it was the expression of careful surprise on Vanessa’s face, or the way she reacted a second too late, but a sudden suspicion slammed into me.

  “Back in a second.” I hurried upstairs, nearly colliding with Alissa coming the opposite way.

  “Whoa!” She caught herself against the wall. “What is it, Blair?”

  “Aveline’s walking stick is missing.” I swallowed hard. “Shann
on was killed by a heavy blow to the back of the head.”

  Alissa’s eyes widened. “You don’t think…?”

  “I don’t want to sound paranoid, but…” I ran the rest of the way upstairs and into the Rosemary witches’ room, giving Shannon’s body a wide berth. The bathroom door was slightly open. I gave it a quick push, then recoiled.

  A bloody stick lay in the shower, bent at one end. Alissa gasped behind me. Then downstairs, the door crashed open. “My grandmother’s here. We’re upstairs!”

  There came the sound of footsteps on the stairs. I stepped back into the living room, averting my gaze from poor Shannon’s inert body.

  “The murder weapon is in the bathroom.” Alissa moved aside to let her grandmother into the room.

  Madame Grey walked past, peering through the open door. “The killer left it behind?”

  “Perhaps they wanted to pin the blame on the Head Witch,” I said. “She couldn’t have climbed the stairs without help, though—we all know that.”

  “Indeed,” Madame Grey said. “I will have to confiscate this and find another walking stick for Aveline. Meanwhile, we’ll leave this room untouched for the police to examine.”

  “You’d think Vanessa would have brought a spare walking stick.” I left the room, not sorry to leave the sight of Shannon’s body behind. “There are only two possible suspects left, one of whom can’t climb stairs.”

  Unless the Rosemary witches weren’t as gone as they’d seemed… but why come back just to murder Shannon?

  Alissa and I went downstairs and found Vanessa searching our living room, moving cushions around.

  “There’s no need for that,” I said. “We’ve already found it.”

  “Found what?” Vanessa asked.

  “Her walking stick,” replied Alissa. “And the murder weapon.”

  Vanessa’s face went white. “What are you saying?”

  “Someone used Aveline’s borrowed walking stick to kill Shannon,” I said. “Odd choice for a weapon, isn’t it?”

  “I didn’t!” she squeaked. “I told you, I wanted to win the leadership fair and square—”

  “Where is the sceptre?” Madame Grey thundered from behind her. “Where did you put it?”

  “I didn’t take the sceptre!” she gasped. “I didn’t lie—she knows. Blair knows.”

  She grabbed my arm, looking up at me imploringly. She’s not lying.

  I yanked my sleeve out of her grip. “She’s telling the truth—at least at the moment, anyway. Did you kill Grace?”

  “No!”

  True.

  Madame Grey’s eyes narrowed. “I will examine the body. The house will remain under quarantine, and I will use detection spells on the walking stick to determine who carried it. If you want to make a confession, now is the time. That goes for all of you.”

  “There’s an easier way,” I said. “We summon Shannon’s ghost.”

  A heartbeat passed. “I know about your little escapade yesterday, Blair,” she said. “Alissa told me it didn’t work.”

  Vanessa looked curiously between us. “What didn’t work?”

  “I still have some spare ingredients,” Alissa said. “Let’s try it on Shannon. It can’t hurt.”

  Vanessa sank into an armchair. “I know what it looks like, but I’m not the killer. I knew we should have left as soon as the sceptre was taken.”

  Well, if it wasn’t you, then it was Aveline herself. She wasn’t faking her inability to climb stairs, though, unless the two of them had worked together. Or perhaps she’d bullied Vanessa into conspiring with her.

  One way to find out.

  The others watched in silence as Alissa and I set up the same arrangement of herbs as we’d used in the field. While summoning a ghost into my flat wasn’t my idea of a good time, the only way to know the truth was to speak to the woman herself… and hope that her ghost was more talkative than Grace’s was.

  “Shannon,” I whispered. “Can you hear me?”

  Silence.

  “Shannon.” I spoke louder, and Alissa spoke, too.

  “Shannon Grover,” Madame Grey said, adding her voice to the chorus.

  The herbs stirred on the spot as though caught in a breeze from an open window. Then the air shimmered, and a transparent figure appeared in mid-air. Seconds passed and the face of the floating figure became more distinct, resolving into Shannon herself.

  Hey, it worked!

  Shannon looked down at me. “Blair? What are you doing here? What am I doing here?”

  “You died,” said Alissa. “Who killed you?”

  Her face fell. “I didn’t see,” she whispered. “I heard voices upstairs, so I went to look. And they sneaked up on me from behind.”

  “You didn’t see who it was?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Everything went black, and I was floating. The next thing I knew, I was… gone.”

  True. As far as I could tell. “Was Aveline or Vanessa there?”

  “I don’t know!” She pressed her hands to her ears, her expression distraught. “I can’t hear myself think.”

  There was a loud knock on the door. Madame Grey rose to her feet from the sofa. “That’ll be Steve.”

  “Oh, great.”

  The door opened and the gargoyle policeman walked in. “How did I know you’d be at the centre of this, Blair?”

  “Who are you?” squeaked Shannon’s ghost.

  Steve looked straight through her. “Well? Have nothing to say for yourself, do you?”

  “Blair wasn’t even here,” Alissa said. “Also, we’re speaking to a ghost, but I’m guessing you can’t see her.”

  “I really am dead?” Shannon sank on the spot in a dead faint.

  Alissa and I looked at one another. “Since when could ghosts pass out?” I said.

  Steve made a growling noise. “Enough of this nonsense. Tell me what happened here.”

  13

  Steve, as usual, was of no help whatsoever. He questioned Vanessa intently and tried the same on Aveline until she attempted to curse him, at which point Vanessa had collapsed into hysterics.

  The Head Witch was now at the top of my suspect list, but why would she steal her own sceptre? Or kill Shannon, come to that? Once the questioning was over, she’d gone to sulk inside my flat, refusing to let anyone else speak with her. She seemed not to remember anything of her time under the influence of the werewolf potion—that, or she was too stubborn to mention it.

  Whoever the thief was, the sceptre’s power would be at its peak tonight. That meant the person who’d stolen it might well be able to access more of its powers. Once Steve finished the questioning, I went outside to get some air. Ghostly forms occasionally drifted past, but none stopped to chat. I still had some of the ingredients for the ghost-summoning spell in my bag, and for the lack of anything better to do, I found myself wandering in the direction of the town cemetery. It was the obvious place to look for a ghost, but Tanith Wildflower wasn’t even buried here. She couldn’t be, if nobody in town had known she was dead. I didn’t know where my mother had lived when she’d been alive, but maybe Vincent did. I hesitated, then knocked on the door to the house next to the cemetery.

  It took several minutes before Vincent answered the door, a scowl on his face. Oops. I’d interrupted his nap. “What are you doing here, Blair?”

  “You wouldn’t happen to know where my mother lived when she was alive, would you?”

  His frown deepened. “I thought I told you to be careful with the dead.”

  “I am, but today is my last chance.” I glanced at the foggy cemetery. It looked even more eerie than usual, but then again, so did the whole town. “Is there a memorial or anything in there?”

  “I imagine there is,” he said. “I thought you were after a thief and a killer.”

  “We hit a dead end. Well, a ghostly one. She didn’t see her killer. And the other ghost refused to show up. Please, Vincent. It’s a one-off.”

  “Mortals.
” He really did look tired. “You spend your whole lives pining for those who you have lost. Fine, go ahead and summon your ghost.”

  “Hey, I only found out my mother was dead a couple of months ago,” I said indignantly. “There aren’t any zombies or poltergeists or anything on the loose in there, are there?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  And he was gone, the door closing behind him. My gaze darted to the iron gates to the cemetery, which was surrounded by high fences. My skin prickled. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea, but if I passed up the chance to talk to my mother like I had with my dad on the solstice, I knew I’d regret it forever.

  The cemetery was much fancier than I’d expected, with neat rows of elaborately designed headstones. Every few feet stood a plaque telling me which coven the graves’ occupants belonged to. It looked like all the witches and wizards were buried in clusters according to their coven or family.

  Since there weren’t any surviving members of my mother’s coven, I started at the beginning of the first row. As I got further into the cemetery, the headstones’ designs became more and more extravagant until they left a wide space around a tomb engraved with the Grey family name. Madame Grey’s and Alissa’s relatives had a whole mausoleum to themselves. It made sense, considering they owned the whole town.

  A clattering sounded nearby, and my heart gave a violent jolt. Calm down. Even if it’s a ghost, they can’t hurt you.

  Doing my best to ignore the prickle of unease on the back of my neck, I kept walking, past the stone building to the next segment of headstones.

  The name Wildflower leapt out at me, drawing me to a halt. A small collection of graves, old and not well-kept, bore the name of my mother’s coven. Nobody came here and left flowers like they did the others. The text on the front grave was cracked, the graves overgrown with weeds. Tears stung my eyes and I made a mental note to stop by here more often.

  None of the graves was marked with Tanith’s name, but I hadn’t expected to find it. She’d died elsewhere, after all. With trembling hands, I pulled out the remaining herbs from my bag.

  “What are you doing, girl?” a voice said from somewhere in the fog.