A Grave Spell (The Spellwork Files Book 1)

by Jenna Collett

Regret clamped like a vise inside my chest. “I didn’t mean it. It was an accid—”

  “An accident? You were right behind Caden. You tripped him.”

  “No. That’s not . . .” I bit my lip, unable to defend myself. No matter how we looked at it, I had tripped him. It was reckless. Stupid! She was right—I could have hurt someone. Why had I let him get to me? I knew better than to allow magic to rule my emotions.

  I’d always been the levelheaded one. The straight arrow. Now, I felt unbalanced, as if the script I’d always followed suddenly had a new plot twist.

  Angela leaned her fists on her desk, her voice rising. “You came blasting through those doors! That in itself is dangerous. You’ve always been so reliable, and then tonight, you show up late, and now this. I don’t know what your problem is with our new employee, but it’s unacceptable. You’re fired, Elle.”

  Panic surged through me. “Angela, please. You’re right, what I did was wrong, but I need this job! Let me have another chance.”

  “You got lucky no one was hurt. Hand over your name tag. You’re done.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Magic bubbled to the surface, threatening to get the upper hand, but I controlled it, breathing deeply through my nose. No more outbursts. Reaching for my name tag, I unpinned it and placed it on the desk with a shaking hand.

  “You can pick up your last check when you return your uniform. I have to get back on the floor. We’re now even more short-staffed. Show yourself out.”

  I hung my head as she left the office. What a completely rotten night.

  Grabbing my stuff, I made my way back to the reception area. I decided to go out the side door to avoid the stares of the other servers. Going anywhere near the kitchen amounted to taking a walk of shame, so to save my pride I planned to slip away unnoticed. The last thing I wanted was for Zoe to make a scene or pull some solidarity stunt that would end with both of us walking to our cars.

  The main hall was quiet, and I could hear my footsteps padding over the carpet. My stomach growled and my head pounded from the stress of the past twenty minutes. I promised myself I’d head straight to a drive-thru so I could drown myself in greasy food and Dr. Pepper. Tomorrow, I’d have to start thinking about finding another job.

  Almost to the exit, I slowed to a stop when I heard a pair of hushed voices. I craned my neck, spotting Professor Roberts speaking with another woman standing in the shadows. It wasn’t a cheery congratulatory talk either; they were in each other’s faces, gesturing angrily with their hands. Professor Roberts swung her arm, accidentally dislodging a drink from the other woman’s hand. It toppled to the carpet, the clear liquid soaking into the fabric.

  Their argument was none of my business. I had bigger problems on my mind now I was out of a job. Still, I lingered, oddly captivated by someone else’s issues.

  Misery must like company. It certainly liked me.

  Professor Roberts noticed me standing there and went silent. We made eye contact, and she visibly flinched. There was something in her features that made me uneasy. It was almost like fear. She flashed a strained smile as the other woman composed herself, smoothing the front of her well-tailored pantsuit.

  “Elle, I noticed you were working tonight. I hoped I’d get to say hello.” Professor Roberts gestured to the other woman. “Julia, this is one of my most promising students, Elle Graves. She’s majoring in business but minoring in history.”

  Julia nodded, and I realized I recognized her from around the university. I was pretty sure she was a colleague of Professor Roberts, though I’d never taken one of her classes.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” I said, still sensing the tension between the two of them.

  “Not at all.” Professor Roberts waved her hand in the air. “I hope your midterm paper is going well. I’m looking forward to reading it.”

  “Yeah, it’s coming along.” I’ll have more time to work on it now that I’m unemployed.

  “Wonderful!” Her smile was still tight around the corners. “I hate to be abrupt, but we really should get back to the party. See you in class next week.”

  I nodded as the two of them left me standing alone in the hall. Professor Roberts’ fearful expression flashed in my mind, and I couldn’t help but wonder what had caused it. Especially during a party thrown in her honor.

  Pushing the encounter aside in favor of making a quick exit, I adjusted the strap on my bag and headed for the door.

  “Elle, wait!”

  Caden jogged down the hall toward me. I tensed, not ready for another confrontation. My expression must have revealed my desire to flee his presence because when he caught up, he held out a hand, trying to convince me to stay in place.

  I narrowed my eyes on him while I thrust my arms into my jacket. “You have thirty seconds, and if you came out here to gloat, you can turn right back around. Just be careful you don’t trip on your way back inside.” Sarcasm leached from my voice as I tugged on the zipper of my jacket. The slider got stuck halfway up, and I ground my teeth in frustration.

  “I’m not here to gloat.”

  “Then what is it?” Giving up on the zipper, I tossed my hands in the air. “What is your problem? I’ve known you all of three hours and had literally two conversations with you. That’s not enough time or interaction for you to hate me, and yet here we are!” My voice kept rising even as I struggled to tamp down my growing anger.

  He scrubbed his hands through his hair, gripping the ends. “I don’t hate you. That’s not what this is. I can explain.”

  “Oh, good to know! Guess what? I don’t care. I’m still fired, and while technically it is my fault, I’m petty enough to lay all the blame on you.” I dropped my head back, gazing at the ceiling. “I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation. Although considering the way my night started, it shouldn’t be a surprise.”

  Caden’s brows drew together, and he moved closer. He looked almost concerned. “The way your night started . . . What happened?”

  I wasn’t buying his out-of-the-blue good guy demeanor.

  “No way. I am not getting into it with you.”

  He moved another step closer. We were almost touching now. His voice held a strange note.

  “Did you see something on your way here?”

  See something? Why would he ask that question? I crossed my arms over my chest and studied him with a fresh set of eyes. He was the same devastatingly handsome man who’d walked across the patio carrying wineglasses, but there was also a curious quality about him. I was suddenly struck by a few questions of my own.

  “Do you go to Thornbridge University?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “You have family here then.”

  He shook his head, and an icy feeling spread across my neck.

  “What’s your last name?”

  “Bishop.”

  Not Clarke. A sneaking suspicion wormed its way into my mind. Could he be connected to the Spellwork Organization in some way? It was an odd coincidence for me to have stumbled across the symbol and met someone with magical abilities all in the same night. Add to that the ghost sighting and my feelings of unease in the past few weeks. But what did it mean? That he was following me? For what purpose? The track my mind took was paranoia at its finest, maybe even a little narcissistic.

  Okay, a lot narcissistic. Even if it was remotely possible, with my luck, they wouldn’t send a GQ model.

  “Are we playing Twenty Questions? Because you haven’t answered mine.”

  There was only one way to test him. I had to catch him off-guard and gauge his reaction. I angled my head back until our gazes locked.

  “Fine. To answer your question, I saw a ghost.”

  That didn’t silence him the way I thought it would. He reached out, placing his hand on my shoulder, and leaned in.

  “What did he say to you?”

  The hint of his cologne assailed my senses, almost distracting me from the absurdity of his question. Not, “Ghost sightings are rare,”
or, “That’s crazy,” but, “What did he say to you?” My mind spun. This night was getting weirder by the second.

  I planned to ask him how he knew the ghost had spoken to me, but the words died in my throat. Above our heads, the lights winked out, submerging us in darkness.

  “Caden, what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know.” He increased the pressure on my shoulder, keeping me grounded in the pitch-black hallway.

  A bloodcurdling scream cut through the silence.

  The sound was followed by a sickening crash that made my stomach rise into my throat. A ball of light burst to life in Caden’s palm. I caught the look on his face: his features were hard, eyes glinting as he scanned the immediate space in front of us.

  Fear stole my breath, and a moment later the reception room burst into chaos. The emergency lights flickered on and the doors flung open as guests poured from the room. Shouts of panic rang out.

  Caden pressed me against the wall, acting as a barrier between me and the terrified guests. It was an oddly protective thing to do considering we’d been antagonizing each other the entire night. He doused the light in his hand, leaving us in the shadows between the emergency lamps.

  There was more screaming and shouts for someone to call for help. I tried to peer over Caden’s shoulder, but he tucked my head down and muttered, “Stop making yourself a target.”

  A target for what?

  When the commotion subsided, I pressed my palms against his chest, leveraging a little space between us. He stepped back and searched my features.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I said, my voice a little shakier than intended. The hall was empty. Everyone had gone out the exits, though I could still hear some noise coming from the reception room. The sound put me in motion, and I pushed past Caden.

  “I have to check on Zoe.”

  “Elle, wait!”

  He rushed after me, but I beat him into the room. I blinked, stunned by the destruction caused by the stampede of guests. Chairs were turned over, dishes smashed against the floor. Glass was everywhere.

  “Zoe, are you in here?” I shouted, squinting from the harsh beam of the emergency lights.

  “Over here!”

  I spotted Zoe kneeling on the floor along with Julia, the woman Professor Roberts had been arguing with. Both of them leaned over something on the floor, and it took me a moment to understand what I was looking at. Two heeled black pumps stuck out from beneath a block of ice, The Wizard of Oz-style. The giant sculpture had toppled from its perched position, landing on top of Professor Roberts. Her hands lay limp against the floor, and blood pooled in a slick puddle.

  Crouching beside Zoe, I placed my hand on her back. Her shoulders trembled, and she looked at me, lifting hands that were covered in blood.

  “I thought I could help her. I tried to stop the bleeding. She’s dead, Elle.”

  Caden towered over us, gazing down at the professor. “Did you see how this happened?” he asked Zoe.

  “No. The lights went out. There might have been some sort of scuffle, but it was too dark to see. Then she screamed, and the sculpture fell. When the security lights came on, everyone panicked.”

  Angela tripped over a fallen chair as she approached us. Her hand shook while holding a cell phone to her ear. She spoke in a rush to the emergency operator and waved us away from the body.

  Zoe leaned forward, brushing away chunks of ice. She pushed aside Professor Roberts’ hair to check her pulse one last time. Then, shaking her head, she rose to her feet.

  I sucked in a breath and stared intently at the spot on Professor Roberts’ neck where Zoe’s hand had just been. Reaching down, I gently angled the woman’s head then snapped my hand back almost as if it had been burned. My gaze shot to Caden’s. He saw the mark too.

  The mark was invisible to anyone outside of the supernatural community. It was faint but unmistakable. This wasn’t an accident.

  Professor Roberts had summoned a demon.

  Chapter 4

  Saturday mornings were meant to be spent lying in bed till noon, not hunched over a pile of books at the university’s library. Yet there I was. I took a deep sip of my coffee, marveling over the smooth taste, and flipped to the next page in my book.

  I’d been there since the library opened, one of the few students determined enough to start their day in the stacks. Also, one of the few students—make that the only student—in the library who’d witnessed a murder the night before.

  At least, that’s what I was calling it.

  The cops had questioned us for over an hour before finally sending us home. They issued instructions to call the station if we remembered any new information, but I could tell they were convinced the death was a tragic accident.

  Driving back to my dorm was a blur. Even though it was well after midnight, sleep was impossible. My mind raced from one suspicion to the next. This wasn’t your usual run-of-the-mill murder—assuming there was such a thing. Whoever was involved had wanted to make it look like an accident, and for the most part, they’d succeeded. Even with a hundred witnesses, no one saw a thing thanks to the power outage, and the local cops seemed more than happy to chalk the case up to an oversized ice sculpture catastrophe. A ridiculous conclusion to make considering the five foot four, willowy Professor Roberts couldn’t have bumped into the table hard enough for the sculpture to fall. No—tipping the sculpture would have likely taken superhuman strength or a heavy dose of magic.

  Which was where the Spellwork Organization came in. They solved the cases the regular cops weren’t equipped to handle. Since Professor Roberts had been tagged with a demon mark, there was a strong possibility the organization would be interested in her case. I already suspected I might run into my cousin.

  Angling my phone closer, I swiped over to my messages and pulled up Ivy’s name before tapping out a message.

  Elle: Are you in town? We should get coffee.

  I waited for a beat, and then added:

  Elle: But only if you want to, and if you have time. You’re probably busy.

  Another beat.

  Elle: Which I totally understand! It was just an idea.

  And then finally:

  Elle: Hope we can get together soon!

  Groaning, I flipped my phone over so I wouldn’t continue to text-ramble. I was already imagining the eye roll she’d give her phone when she read my messages. Ivy would get back to me or she wouldn’t. Either way, I shouldn’t get involved. But this was the first time I’d ever been so close to the organization that was steeped in my family’s history. The temptation to dig deeper was the reason for my morning research project.

  I’d started my search in the local history books, looking for any information on supernatural activity in Thornbridge. There wasn’t much, though I did stumble across an old photo of Clarke Manor. The caption didn’t mention ghosts, and the brief article only detailed the manor’s construction as being one of the original buildings in town.

  Still, studying the black-and-white photograph, I felt oddly drawn to the structure. There was something familiar about it. My eyesight blurred the longer I stared, and soon, the stacks of books faded away. Even the scent of my coffee dissipated. A shiver ran down my back as faint words floated in the air.

  “We’re waiting for you . . . Come inside.”

  I snapped the book closed, my heart pounding as I looked over my shoulder. I was still alone. Any ghostly invitation must have been my imagination. I rubbed my grainy eyes and sucked down some more coffee. Sleep was what I needed, not a wild-goose chase with ghosts.

  “There you are!” Zoe appeared in front of me and slid into one of the study chairs. “I tried your dorm then figured I’d check the most likely places. I was going to try the waffle station in the cafeteria next.” She clutched a large coffee in both hands as if it were the answer to the world’s problems. Dark circles ringed her eyes. She’d probably gotten as much sleep as I had. None.

  �
�Mmm, waffles. I need to get my priorities in line—I should have gone there first. How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “Better. I still can’t believe what happened last night. First, you get fired, and then Professor Roberts . . .” Zoe stared at her hands. “That poor woman.”

  “I know. I can’t stop thinking about it. I didn’t sleep at all.”

  Zoe’s gaze roamed over my stack of books. She frowned. “So you thought you’d try to bore yourself unconscious with history books?”

  “No. It’s just a project I’m working on. It’s a nice distraction.”

  “I’d give anything for a distraction.” Tightening her grip around her coffee, Zoe shuddered. “Every time I close my eyes, I see her lying underneath that giant ice sculpture. How does something like that even happen?”

  Trust me, you don’t want to know.

  I fiddled with the plastic lid on my coffee. “The police think it was an accident.”

  “Don’t you?”

  My mind drifted back to the odd confrontation I’d seen in the hallway. Professor Roberts had been arguing with her coworker. I wished I was able to eavesdrop a little more and get an idea of what they were talking about. Arguing didn’t make Julia a killer, but it definitely raised some questions.

  “It’s the simplest answer. But you didn’t notice anyone acting weird at the party, did you?”

  “You mean, besides you? Did you really get fired for tripping Caden?”

  I exhaled and leaned my chin on my fist. “I honestly don’t know what came over me. One moment we were talking, maybe even flirting—who knows; my radar for that kind of thing is terrible—then I was charging after him. It’s mortifying if you think about it, but I guess I’ll live, because it’s unlikely I’ll ever run into him again. He doesn’t go to school here, and we’re no longer coworkers.” I dusted my hands together as if it were that easy to banish his presence from my mind.

  “Well, here’s to dodging another embarrassing encounter.” Zoe tapped her coffee cup into mine.

  Cheers to that. Caden was trouble. The literal definition of hot and cold, goading me all night until I cracked then acting the hero in the middle of a stampede. And what had he meant when he said, “I don’t hate you. That’s not what this is?” What was it then? His words had implied some ulterior rationale I had no knowledge of. It was beyond frustrating.