by Karen Ranney
“Would you know? If you didn’t know is there a way you could find out?”
There was a panicked look on her face. “I don’t know that, either.”
He pulled out his phone and dialed Grace.
“Oh yes, it’s possible,” she said after he explained the situation. “Ellie wouldn’t necessarily know it, either. In fact, it’s even more probable that she wouldn’t.”
In the next moment she told him exactly what to do.
He went and knelt beside the office chair and slowly turned Ellie so that she faced him.
“Here’s the deal. If I release you from the spell, that’s going to tell them that you’re no longer their camera.”
“I don’t care. I don’t like being used like this.”
“If they’ve used you, Ellie, releasing you could put you in danger.”
She smiled. Not her usual expression, but a sad almost-smile. “If they’re using me to remote view, Derek, they’ve already heard every conversation we’ve had. There’s nothing they don’t know.”
She was right.
He grabbed both of her hands and looked into her eyes, repeating the words Grace given him. The air shimmered again, but he was used to that effect now. It happened whenever he used magic.
Ellie sank back against the chair, her eyes still on him.
“Do you feel any different?”
“I want to throw up, but I feel that way every time I do a remote spell.”
He stood. “I’ll go get you some tea.”
“No,” she said, getting up from the chair. When she suddenly grabbed the desk he went to her side and put his arm around her waist to support her. “I’ll come, too.”
Instead of taking the stairs he led her to the elevator at the end of the corridor. Her eyes widened when he pushed a panel and a set of controls appeared.
“There is every gadget imaginable at the Crow’s Nest,” he said. “Lionel Adams liked his toys.”
He pressed one of the buttons and the panels slid to the side, revealing the interior of the elevator.
“Is this a Willie Wonka thing? Will we explode out the ceiling?”
“I wouldn’t put it past ol’ Lionel, but I’ve never found the controls to become airborne.”
They entered and Ellie leaned against the side of the car.
“Are you sure you feel all right?”
“I think so. I hope so. As much as I hate to suggest it, it might be a good idea for you to do that to me every morning.”
“Like a magical debugging spell.”
“Exactly.”
He watched her carefully as they got out of the elevator on the first floor. Her color was coming back and she didn’t look like she was going to faint any moment. When they got to the kitchen he made sure she was sitting at the table before he turned on the electric teakettle.
“That’s filled with different kinds of teas,” he said, gesturing to a pullout shelf between two cabinets. “Breanna drank more tea than coffee..”
He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he brewed a cup of coffee for himself and grabbed a mug from the cabinet for her. Her hand still trembled as she pulled out the shelf.
She glanced over at him. “Stop worrying. I’m fine. I always get this way when I do a remote spell.”
“I don’t like thinking I’ve put you in danger. What’s the next step?” he asked.
He honestly didn’t know. Should Ellie confront them? Or should she try to explain everything?
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “Maybe they don’t know as much as we think. Maybe the house filtered it. Everyone knows there’s something odd about the Crow’s Nest.”
“Do they?”
That was news to him. Of course he hadn’t had anything to do with the magic community before Breanna died. In fact, he hadn’t even known there was a community of people who practiced magic until a few weeks ago. Oh, he’d known about the kooks, but not the people who took it seriously. Or, like Grace, who had demonstrable powers.
“Maybe I shouldn’t say anything at all.” She looked over at him, her face without expression. “We don’t know that their curiosity is a bad thing. It’s possible they’re trying to protect you.”
“That’s a little far fetched, isn’t it?” He poured the boiling water into her cup.
“No, not if you’re our wizard.”
She grabbed a tin of blackberry tea and returned to the table. He noticed she cradled her left arm with her right after sitting.
“Explain,” he said, bringing the two cups to the table and sitting beside her. “What do you mean, our wizard?”
“There are only three publicly known wizards, Jeffrey North in the European Meriduar, Osake Komucha in the South Asian Meriduar, and Martin Navratina in SACO. There hasn’t been a NASACA wizard in years.”
Grace hadn’t told him that.
She nodded. “So, you being the NASACA wizard would mean they’d want to protect you, wouldn’t it?”
He didn’t know the answer to that question, but he was more inclined to accept that the Elders were malevolent bastards trying to clip his wings.
“That means it’s probably someone else trying to kill you.” She looked entirely too happy about her conclusion.
“I’d rather no one was, if it’s okay with you.”
“Yes, but don’t you see? If it’s not magical, it’ll be easier to find out who it is and to bring him to justice.”
“And if it is?” he asked, thinking of his biological father.
She didn’t look as happy as before. “Then he could be masked for a very long time.”
“What about the justice aspect? If he was using magic in some way that isn’t approved, wouldn’t he be brought to justice?”
She concentrated on the teabag in her cup, lifting it four times before answering him.
“Not necessarily. It would depend on the power and rank of the person who committed the offense. A little like our justice system now. If you have lots of money, you have a different kind of outcome.”
He wasn’t going to argue with her, especially since he’d seen examples of exactly that often enough.
“I don’t have a clue who’s behind the shooting, Ellie, and from what I’ve discovered, neither do the police.”
“Would you like me to try to find out?”
“Can you do that?”
She shrugged again. “I don’t know, but I could try. Did Breanna have a special room, some place that was sacred?”
“Sacred?” He’d never heard the word used to describe magic.
“Every witch has a sacred room. Some place where she feels safe and secure. I have the second bedroom in my apartment.”
There was no way in hell he was going to show her the secret room. The grimoire was still there, not to mention Lionel’s magic paraphernalia. He didn’t want Ellie to know that Breanna had kept all of it, almost like a shrine to her father.
He shook his head. “Never mind. You don’t have to do that. Grace has already tried. You could do me another favor, though, if you feel up to it.”
She smiled. “I’m hardier then I look. What’s the favor?”
He pulled out his phone, scrolled to the list of ingredients he’d made from the grimoire, then sent it to her.
“I’m sending you an email. See if you can find these things, will you?”
She nodded, grabbing her own phone.
“It’s for a spell, right? I recognize some of the names, but not all of them.”
“Yes.” He hesitated a moment, then said, “Does that surprise you?”
She smiled. “No, why should it? You’re a wizard.”
He stared at her, unable to think of a thing to say. Luckily, she didn’t seem to need a response. Their relationship had changed, hadn’t it?
After finishing up her tea, she grabbed her bag.
“I’ll go and get those things that you need.” She moved toward the doorway.
“Are you sure you feel like it?” he asked, gl
ancing at her arm. She’d dispensed with the sling in the past two weeks, but he hadn’t forgotten that she’d been shot and had surgery. Plus, she’d been shot not far from here.
He didn’t think she was in any danger, since the shot had been meant for him. It annoyed him that he hadn’t considered the idea earlier. He’d set up a protection spell around her, just to be on the safe side.
“Where are you going?”
“Sticks & Stones,” she said. “It’s a store on Broadway. It’s been there forever.”
He’d seen some bags with that name in the closet upstairs.
“Be careful,” he said. “And safe.”
She nodded and smiled before leaving the kitchen by the garage door.
Ellie still felt awful, but it wasn’t physical now as much as emotional. She hadn’t meant to be a spy for the Elders, but she should have figured out that they would have done something like they had.
Had they spelled her from the moment they’d visited her in the hospital? She should have considered that. Or had it been after that, remotely?
They wouldn’t be pleased to know that Derek was coming into his own power, would they? She knew how strong he was when he was able to remove the spell. Even Grace had known he was able to do it, or she wouldn’t have given him the instructions over the phone.
Ellie had felt something different about Derek the moment she’d entered the Crow’s Nest a month ago. There was a kind of thrumming aura surrounding him. He’d always had an engaging personality and the ability to talk even the most intransigent politician into sitting for an interview. Now he almost lit up the room with his energy.
Maybe it wasn’t all him. The Crow’s Nest scared her a little. The house almost seemed to have a personality or a presence. She sensed something was wrong here, but she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Or why she felt that way.
She felt her chest ease the minute she pulled out of the garage.
29
The first thing anyone noticed about Sticks & Stones was the smell. The air was heavy with spicy scents, chief among them cinnamon and incense. Another interesting smell was something that reminded Ellie of balsamic vinegar coupled with pine.
The front of the store was bright and inviting with wide aisles and a selection of both soy and wax candles. Sticks & Stones also sold a variety of wreaths for indoor and outdoor use. It was a less crowded Pier 1 with a high-end clientele and ridiculously overpriced items.
When Ellie entered the store an hour later a half dozen customers were already checking out the hand poured candles for which the store was famous. A conversation area in the middle of the store was for customers who may have gotten tired while perusing the merchandise and wished to have a small espresso in the morning or a flute of champagne in the afternoon.
Ellie always wondered if the majority of the customers were members of NASACA or if they were simply civilians. She never knew for sure. Witches didn’t recognize each other because they had a mole on their chin or nose. They didn’t give off a certain smell and as far as she knew there wasn’t a communal secret signal.
The majority of Sticks & Stones’ business didn’t take place in the upscale front of the store. She doubted if most of the customers knew that the store was known throughout the country as a place to obtain those esoteric items needed for an odd or difficult spell. In other words, when you didn’t want to — or couldn’t — order something from Amazon, Sticks & Stones was the place you went.
There were some things, like dried salamander, that didn’t look good on an order history.
Salome Johnson looked over the list Ellie had written on a legal pad. Her name wasn’t really Salome; it was Susan. When she came to work at her mother’s store she’d adopted the name, thinking it was more exotic.
Ellie had known Salome — Susan — since they were both juniors in high school. The pretty girl had morphed into a beautiful woman, complete with long black curly hair, skin the color of a mocha latte, and almond shaped light brown eyes. Even her mouth was exotic, seeming to smile regardless of her expression. Almost as if she had a secret about you and wasn’t going to share it.
A couple of times Salome had been a source of information about NASACA for Ellie. Salome’s female relatives were distantly related to an Elder and were, consequently, privy to the best gossip. Not only was it salacious, but most of the time it was true.
Salome’s frown was getting deeper the longer she studied the list. Ellie hadn’t said anything to Derek, but she couldn’t help but wonder where he’d come up with some of those ingredients. The ones she’d recognized had concerned her. Now she wondered if they were the same ones causing Salome discomfort.
“Oxbufurton root? Do you know how expensive that is?”
“I don’t think money is a problem,” Ellie said.
“I have to order it from Hungary,” Salome said, her tone frustrated. “It’s very rare and it’s only harvested twice a year. If we’re lucky they have some now, but otherwise we have to wait.”
Ellie didn’t know why Derek wanted everything on the list, but she had an inkling that he wouldn’t be pleased at any delay.
“Like I said, Salome, money isn’t a problem. Do what you can, please.”
“I’ve never even heard of some of these things, Ellie. I’m sure my mother has. I’ll see if she’s got any ideas.”
She handed Salome one of her new cards, delivered this morning. This one had her name, phone number, and email address on it.
If she had to leave the paper, then she’d made a good choice to work for a billionaire.
“Call me and let me know when everything is ready.”
Salome nodded, pocketed the card, then walked Ellie to the door.
Ellie left the store with a bag filled with her purchases. She didn’t anticipate having to tell Derek that she was unable to get several of the items on the list right away. However, the delay might give her time to do a little research.
Anyone looking at the ingredient list would know that it was for a spell. That wasn’t what was bothering her. Two of the items on the list were rare, even rarer than oxbufurton. She’d only seen one of them listed and that had been in an article about black magic.
Normally she’d go home and ask her mother’s help in scanning the NASACA database. Not this time. She didn’t want anyone to know she was looking at those ingredients, especially given her current assignment. Nor did she want to involve her family.
Sticks & Stones was located on Broadway, almost in the heart of San Antonio. Fortunately, however, it was adjacent to IH 10 which meant that it was easily accessible.
Ellie left the store and was heading for the highway when the smell hit her. Onions, very strong onions, as if she was in a room filled with onions in various stages of decay. Luckily, she was still on the frontage road and had time to pull over before the vision overwhelmed her.
She’d tried to explain it to someone once. They told her it sounded like an ocular migraine, where you go blind for about twenty minutes. She never knew how long the visions would last, only that she was blind and deaf to anything else while they happened.
The onion smell was the only clue she had, but like now it was normally enough of a warning that she could get herself somewhere safe. The car she was driving belonged to her mother, since her’s had been totaled after the encounter with the tree. It hadn't helped that there was a bullet hole in the engine. She pulled off on the shoulder of the entrance ramp to the highway.
She was in a cyclone of color: blues and grays and shocking reds swirled around her, making her dizzy. Her stomach lurched, the sensation one she'd never felt before in a vision. She'd always been an observer, but now she was involved.
Even as the colors whirled around her she was conscious of a growing fear. Something was terribly wrong, and the sheer wrongness of it was increasing, making her nauseous. She didn't know where she was, only that she was afraid, more than she could ever remember being, even when she was shot.
She tho
ught a fire was blazing and inside it was a swirling mass of colors. Derek stood in the center of it, stretched out like he was on a Catherine wheel. She knew that he was in a struggle for his soul.
Suddenly, she could hear voices. She recognized Derek's and then a female voice shouting. Ellie reached out with both hands as if to grip the air itself and hold it back.
The nausea was growing, the vertigo throwing her to the ground. No, not the ground. The floor. Where was she? Some place she didn't recognize, but that had an aura of familiarity. It was vitally important that she see beyond the kaleidoscope of color. She had to figure out where she was and what was happening. That was the only way to prepare herself for this future.
"Please." She wasn't conscious of speaking until she heard the word, another thing that had never happened in one of her visions.
She knew she was going to die. She was too young. She had too much to do, too much to accomplish. She wasn't ready. Yet she knew the first time that she had ever seen herself in a vision was for a reason. This was a warning of her death.
This was also a war that was being waged on a battlefield she couldn't identify. If they lost, all of them would die.
She was on the floor, the colors swirling above her, getting deeper as they slowed. An emerald green merged into a navy blue, the color of the darkest night. Or perhaps evil.
Where had that thought come from? Is that the battle they were engaged in?
She could hear sounds, a roar of muted thunder, a shout of rage, a deep, booming voice intoning a warning. Then the noise changed to become a chorus of shrieking, panicked voices whirling overhead.
She knew that she’d put this into motion. She had been, if not the architect, at least a precipitating force. She didn't know how, but she was responsible. She had to help, but she was incapable of moving, frozen not only by terror, but by a force that was pinning her to the floor.
She began to cry, something else that had never happened in one of her visions. Yet she knew, even as she clutched her sanity with both white knuckled hands, that this was not simply a vision. It was a taste of what was to come.
It ended as suddenly as it had begun, leaving her gasping.