by Tania Hutley
“That was a dead end,” says Xander as he gets back in the car.
“Not even close,” I tell him, frowning. “That guy is a mundane, but somehow he used magic to get you to walk away. What the hell is going on?”
Seventeen
“I’m telling you, you got spelled,” I repeat. I had to pull Xander’s keys out of the ignition to stop him driving away and we’ve been sitting in the car arguing ever since.
“I didn’t get ‘spelled’.” Mouth pulled down with annoyance, Xander makes quote marks with his fingers.
“Then why’d you leave that store so quickly?”
“Because your lead was a dead end, and it was clear that man had nothing to do with my case.”
“You didn’t even ask him any questions.”
“Yes I did.”
“What’s your name, and did you know Sylvia? They don’t count.”
He holds out his hand. “Give me the keys, Saffy.”
“He spelled you. There must have been blood in the vial he opened, and a witch must have given it to him. Still, he shouldn’t have been able to use a spell like that, even if somebody cast it for him in advance. I’ve never heard of a mundane being able to do that.”
“That’s ridiculous. You expect me to believe—?”
I grab his arm, cutting him off. The thrift store’s door has opened and Demarcus Devlin is shiftily lurking at the entrance. He switches the sign on the door from Open to Closed, then locks it before walking to a van that’s parked at the side of the building.
“Quick. He’s leaving. Follow him.” I shove Xander’s keys back into the ignition.
“There’s no point—”
“Just do it. Trust me, Xander, you won’t regret it. We’re onto something.”
“Fine.” He turns the key and when the Bublé song resumes, he switches the stereo off mid-warble. “But only to prove he’s going for a burger at McDonald’s.”
The van pulls out and Xander lets a couple of cars get between us before following.
“We’re going to lose him,” I protest, watching the van turn down a side street. I’m on the edge of my seat, leaning to the side as if I’m going to be able to see around the corner more easily.
“Relax. I know what I’m doing.”
I hope so. This is the closest I’ve been to finding out something useful.
Xander keeps the van in sight until we get to an industrial area, with fewer people and cars. Then he hangs back even more. Somehow, I manage not to criticize his tailing skills despite the tension running through me.
Up ahead, the van turns into a pot-holed, overgrown parking lot. There’s a brick building at the rear of the lot with a decrepit railway car on one side of it.
“What is this place?” I ask as Xander slows.
“It’s an abandoned train station. The train line used to run through here. In fact, the tracks are probably still over there, hidden in all that grass.”
I watch the van park in front of the building, while Xander pulls over a little way up the road.
“What’s he doing here?” I ask.
Xander shrugs. “Visiting an old train station isn’t a crime.”
“Pretty sure he’s not here for a burger.” I fling the car door open. “I’m going to find out what he’s up to.”
“Saffy, what are you doing?” He gets out too. “You can’t chase after him. He could be dangerous.”
“I thought you were sure he’s innocent?” I hurry toward the lot. The van looks empty now. I didn’t see where Devlin went, but it had to be into the brick building.
With his long legs, Xander has no trouble keeping up. “Are you hoping for trouble?” Then he frowns. “Doesn’t your leg hurt, walking this fast? Come to think of it, why haven’t I seen you limp today?”
“I got better.”
I’m about to head through the gate when Xander pulls me back.
“We need to be a little more stealthy than that, Saffy. Let’s find a way in through here.” He motions me to follow him onto the neighboring property, past a derelict-looking house.
We creep along the rotting fence until we find a place where the boards have fallen in. After pulling away the vines that have grown over it, we find a gap big enough to squeeze through.
Once through, we use the old railway carriage for cover so nobody will be able to see us approach. When we’re as close to the building as we can get, we both peer around the edge of the carriage.
The brick building has arched windows that might have been beautiful once, before they were boarded up. Graffiti is scrawled along one side.
“What’s that sign about?” I ask, pointing at a neon sign over the door. It’s switched off, and in the bright daylight it’s hard to read. “Does it say Trainwreck’d?”
“I think this might be an underground nightclub. Probably doesn’t have a liquor license and opens illegally. Places like this tend to move around.”
Xander crouches low and stays bent over as he jogs to the door. I follow his lead, feeling like an FBI agent in a movie. Hopefully not a movie where the good guys get killed.
Xander reaches the door and tries the handle, but it’s locked. Devlin must have gone in and locked it behind him.
“What do we do now?” I whisper, peering around to make sure nobody’s watching us.
“We come back later when it’s open.”
“What? No. Let’s break in now.” I can barely hold myself still, I’m so sure there’s something inside this building.
He gives me a sharp look. “Breaking in would be illegal. Better to walk through the front door later, without calling attention to ourselves.”
“Devlin will probably be gone by then.”
Xander shrugs. “We might be able to figure out what he was doing here. It’s probably something perfectly innocent.”
“What if it’s not? What if we spooked him by showing up in his store, and he’s here to get rid of some vital evidence that could prove he’s in league with the witch who killed Sylvia?”
“And what if he’s here getting lunch? I don’t have a warrant. Not to mention, I’ve already been suspended.” He takes my arm and tugs me away with him. “Coming back tonight is all we can do.”
I protest all the way back to the car, but Xander’s mind is made up and I have no idea how I’d break in through a locked door without his help. It looked too thick and sturdy to force open.
“Let’s stake out the place to see if anyone else shows up.” I slide into the passenger seat. “And when he leaves, we can follow him. See where he goes.”
“I’m not sitting out here to wait for an innocent man.” Xander slides the keys into the ignition, but doesn’t start the engine. His gaze drops to my jeans. “What happened to your leg?” he asks again. “What did you mean when you said you got better?”
“My uncle healed it.”
He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment in a weary gesture. “Of course he did. He waved his fingers over it and said the magic words?”
“More or less.” I’m tempted to show him where the wound used to be, but I’m wearing jeans. To prove I’m not lying, I’d have to peel them off.
Xander lifts his eyes skyward. “Why am I listening?” he asks the roof of the car. “It’s clear you need help. Why don’t I drop you off at the nearest psychiatric hospital and stop chasing leads that don’t go anywhere?”
“This case has magic written all over it. You’ll have to figure out a way to come to terms with that, or we’ll never get anywhere.” Saying that reminds me of the dark magic grimoire. I’ve been putting off trying to read it again because it gives me the creeps. But there’s somebody who might be able to help. A witch who’s even more of an outcast than I am, and rumored to dabble in the darker side of life. Like Voldemort, nobody wants to say his name.
I’ve never met him, but I know where to find him.
“I have one more lead,” I say slowly, wondering if I’m making a huge mistake. “There’s a man who might be able
to shed light on some of this. Only I think he might be dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?”
“I don’t know, exactly.” I shoot Xander a sideways look. “He has a bad reputation.”
“Another in your circle of witch-believers?”
“Not in the circle. Outside the circle. Way out.”
“Are you going to tell me any more than that?”
“I’ll do better. I’ll take you to see him.”
“Saffy—”
“Do you have any other ideas?” I ask. “If so, I’d love to hear them.”
He sighs. Then he starts the car engine. “Address?” he says wearily.
Eighteen
“You’re seriously telling me this man’s name is the Unseen?” asks Xander, switching off the car engine.
“That’s what everyone calls him. I don’t know his real name.”
“And this dangerous, evil man lives here?” I follow Xander’s skeptical gaze to the Unseen’s house. It’s a freshly-painted wooden bungalow in suburban Baltimore, with a white picket fence and colorful rose bushes under the windows. A pair of garden gnomes are fishing in a pond filled with goldfish, surrounded by lawn that’s perfectly green. The place looks sweet enough to make my back teeth ache.
“That’s right.” I shift the backpack on my lap. We stopped at my place on the way, so I could pick up Sylvia’s bag with the grimoire inside. For the last few days, I’ve kept it shut in the furthest corner of the darkest cupboard of my locked investigation room. The grimoire’s low-level hum sets my teeth on edge, and I have no safeguards against its power. Holding it feels like fondling a grenade that’s lost its pin.
“Why did you bring that?” he asks, nodding to it. “And how exactly do you think this Unseen guy can help us?” Xander frowns. “He’s not invisible, is he? Please tell me I’m not going to end up talking to empty air, because I really will drop you at a psychiatric—”
“I need to know why witches are losing their hearts,” I cut him off. “There has to be a reason, and it’s to do with a spell that’s in this book. I found it at Sylvia’s place, in her secret room.”
“Secret room?” His voice rises in outrage. “You stole evidence from an active crime scene? And didn’t tell the police about a hidden room containing that evidence?”
I nod impatiently. “Point is, the book won’t let me read it unless I give it blood, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to do that. Rumor is that the Unseen deals in the same dark magic as the book. We’re here because he might be able to tell us what the spell does.”
“You think you have to give the book blood?”
“That’s what it wants, but giving in would be way too dangerous. I’m not even supposed to have the book. Only archivists handle the more powerful grimoires, let alone black magic ones.”
“The book is dangerous.” He repeats it flatly. Then, to my surprise, he laughs. He has a nice laugh. It’s rich and deep. “It’s too much. I give up. I’m going to surrender to your madness and ride the crazy train to Magic Land. Tell me, Saffy, why is the book dangerous? Will opening it cover you in paper cuts?”
I should be annoyed at his stubborn refusal to believe anything I say, but even as I roll my eyes, I find my lips twitching. His laughter is contagious.
“The grimoire has power and purpose of its own,” I tell him. “Magic isn’t like in the movies. You don’t just recite special words to cast spells. You have to learn how to use your power in a certain way to get the result you want.” I shake my head. “It’s hard to explain. But one way for a witch to share knowledge of how to cast a spell is to imprint that spell into a book. To give the book power.”
“The book can think for itself?” He eyes my backpack. “Should we have offered it lunch?”
Shaking my head with mock disgust, I get out of the car and sling the pack over my back. I take a deep breath and brace myself before opening the gate. Then the magical wards that surround the house catch me, holding me like a fly in a web. My skin itches and burns. I’m trapped, and I can’t move. Can’t scratch or run or even cry out. On my finger, my mother’s ring flares into life, her blood glowing from within the red stone.
“You coming?” asks Xander, walking past me as though the Unseen’s barrier doesn’t exist.
The pain intensifies for a moment, then lets me go. The wards withdraw and my skin stops burning. I hesitate, not wanting to go further. But Xander’s already knocking on the front door, so I rub my arms and join him.
An older man with silver hair and friendly eyes answers the door. He’s wearing a brown knitted cardigan with leather patches on the elbows, saggy brown trousers, and fluffy slippers. When he smiles, he looks like a kindly grandfather.
“Hello,” he says. “What can I do for you?”
Xander glances at me, and I can tell he’s wondering if we’ve come to the right house. But there’s a buzzing in my ears like I’m standing next to an electric power station, and the back of my neck is prickling.
“I’m Sapphira Black. I need your help.” I turn a little so the Unseen can see the backpack I’m wearing. “With this.”
The Unseen’s expression changes as he looks at the backpack and I know he can feel the magic coming off it. “A grimoire?” he asks. “Where did you get it?”
This is the first time I’ve ever seen him in the flesh, and it feels a little like meeting the bad guy from a scary story. I swallow hard. “From my cousin. Sylvia’s dead and her heart was taken.”
His eyes widen. From his expression, this is news he didn’t know. Now that I think about it, I doubt he hears about much that happens inside the witch community. Though I’ve heard him spoken about, nobody I know will have anything to do with him.
“And the mundane?” the Unseen asks, his gaze flicking to Xander.
“A friend.”
The Unseen hesitates for a moment, then opens the door a little wider. “Come in. But be prepared to pay the price.”
I glance at Xander, uneasy as to what price the old man might demand. But we need the information he can provide, so I step over the threshold.
Everything changes.
The bright, white hallway shimmers and becomes dark and forbidding. The taint of unpleasant magic crawls over every surface, setting my teeth on edge.
Worst of all is the Unseen. The kindly grandfather is gone. Now he’s bent and wizened. His gray skin is covered in scars and scabs. His rotten teeth are sharpened to points, and when he leers at me, I see a few gaps where teeth are missing.
Beside me, Xander draws in a sharp breath. He gapes at the man. “H-how?” he stutters. “But you looked…?”
When his shocked stare falls on me, my own discomfort isn’t so bad that I can resist murmuring, “Want me to book you the room next to mine in the psychiatric ward?”
But the Unseen’s expression makes my flash of satisfaction disappear fast. The old man’s bloodshot eyes are still on my backpack, and the avarice in them makes me feel like hugging it to my chest. The grimoire. I silently curse myself for not foreseeing the problem in bringing such a powerful, dangerous book to a dark witch.
I edge back toward the door. “Actually, I’ve changed my—”
“You’ve crossed my threshold. You must finish what you started.”
Taking another step back, I crash into Xander. His hands grip my upper arms and I stop, dragging in a breath. First things first. We need answers, and I’ll figure out a way to pay for them later.
“This way.” The Unseen opens a door at the end of the hall. Stairs lead down into darkness.
The old man sweeps his hand toward the stairs. “After you.”
Hell, no. I shake my head. “You first.”
With a creepy grin, he disappears into the blackness. Xander and I exchange glances. If things get nasty, I’m going to regret bringing Xander along. But for now, I’m glad he’s here.
“Hasn’t he ever heard of lights?” Xander asks, peering into the black. “This whole place is a series of sa
fety and health violations. He causes trouble, we could threaten to call an inspector.”
His tone is light, but he still looks pale. Discovering that magic really does exist must have shaken his whole view of the world. The fact he’s still willing to follow the Unseen down a dark staircase into who-knows-what says a lot about his character.
“Stick close,” I say, then give him a half-smile I hope looks reassuring. But when I ease down the first few steps, apprehension makes my chest tight. A sense of wrongness bears down on me, heavy around my shoulders, and my breath gets stuck in my throat.
Xander is right behind me. “Can’t you turn on a light?” he yells into the darkness.
An unpleasant laugh is all the reply he gets. There’s no hand rail, and when I grope to find the wall, my fingers encounter something warm and wet. I pull my hand back in and keep it close to my chest as my foot searches for the next step.
“It’s like walking into ink,” Xander murmurs from behind me. “Are you still there? I can’t see you.”
“I’m here. I’m going to grab your hand.” I reach behind me and Xander’s solid fingers slide into mine. I can pretend all I like that I’m the one who’s reassuring him, but the truth is I feel steadier knowing he’s close behind me. He has an inbuilt confidence, probably something he developed while working his way up through the police force.
His touch helps me take another step into the darkness as the sense of wrongness gets stronger. When I swallow, the taste of blood makes me gag. The air is thick with it. Is it seeping from the walls? It’s all I can smell and taste. My lungs are filling with it.
I freeze, fighting panic.
The Unseen’s basement is full of blood. We’re going to drown in it.
“You okay?” Xander squeezes my hand. “Why’d you stop?”
“You don’t feel that?” I ask hoarsely, already knowing the answer from his tone.
“Feel what?”
I drag in a breath, forcing more blood-tainted air into my lungs. I’m not going to drown. Whatever the Unseen is making me feel, it’s not real.