by Karen Ranney
She stared through the windshield at the traffic passing her. This shoulder wasn’t that wide. Nor was it lined by a barrier. She was only inches from tumbling down an embankment.
Although she was still trembling she put the car into gear and pulled out onto the expressway. At the next exit she turned off, pulling into a convenience store parking lot. She sat there with her hands frozen on the wheel. Her stomach was still in knots, and she could feel the drying tears on her cheeks.
What the hell had happened? What did she do about it? Two questions she couldn’t answer.
Finally, she looked around her, realizing that she wasn’t that far away from Grace’s house.
Derek’s mother might be the only person who could save them.
30
Ellie pulled up in front of Grace’s house. There was a gray spot on the driveway where Derek’s SUV had exploded, but that was the only sign that something had happened here. Even the scorched trees had been pruned of their offending branches.
Either Grace was an expert at cloaking spells or Derek’s money had performed miracles and cleaned the area until there wasn’t anything out of place.
Her bet was on Grace.
She sat in the car and said the visibility spell she’d learned as a child. In a manner of moments the air seemed to change, the plain yellowish green of the grass gave way to a landscaped front yard, complete with ornamental plants and a winding path to the impressive entrance of the mansion before her. The small stucco home was gone and in its place a house that would have been at home in the Dominion, a ritzy subdivision north of town. To her surprise, every other house on the block changed as well. Up until now she had not realized that Grace’s neighbors were members of NASACA.
She ended the visibility spell and the house and neighborhood reverted to their previous appearance.
If anyone knew what to do it would be Grace. The rumors abounded about her abilities and power.
Ellie hoped the stories were real.
She got out of her car and walked up the path, still feeling a little shaky from the vision.
The door opened before she reached it and Grace stood there. She must’ve been beautiful when she was younger, because she was still attractive. Her hair was a whitish blonde, her eyes the same shade of blue as Derek’s. Even if no one had told her that Grace was his mother Ellie would have seen the resemblance.
“You are troubled, child,” Grace said.
Ellie hadn’t introduced herself yet. Yet she didn’t think it was necessary. The woman probably knew her name, the name of all her relatives, and the reason she was here.
Grace stepped aside so that Ellie could enter her house.
“I am,” Ellie said. It would be foolish to deny it. Besides, she had a feeling that Grace, through magic or simple perception, would know if she was lying.
How did she explain about the vision? Or the other, the reason she was here?
She entered Grace’s house and stood there amazed. The cloak had disappeared and the house was no longer compact. The foyer was not quite as large as the Crow’s Nest, but it was easily the size of Ellie’s apartment.
The walls were a pale yellow, a curiously warm and comforting color. She followed Grace through the entranceway, past a formal living room, and iron banded door, and into an open area that was part Great Room and part laboratory.
“Would you like some tea?”
“Thank you, no.”
Instead of sitting, Ellie went to the opposite side of the wide oak table. An electric cauldron sat there, boiling. The vessel was made of cast iron and at least twenty-four inches tall. But for the plug coming out of its middle it looked exactly like those used in the Middle Ages.
Grace went to the other side of the table and picked up a small branch to stir the lumpy brown mixture. Surprisingly, it didn’t smell bad. Instead, it gave off a scent of apple and cinnamon.
The shelves behind Grace were full of glass apothecary jars, each filled with a spice, herb, or other concoction needed for practicing a spell.
“I need your help,” Ellie said.
She found it easier to keep her eyes on all those jars than to look at Grace. The woman had an intent gaze that reminded her of Derek. Maybe that’s why she was so uncomfortable.
If she hadn’t had the vision, she might have talked herself out of coming. It felt like a cosmic push, a magical nudge, and she wasn’t foolish enough to ignore it.
Grace didn’t stop her stirring, but Ellie suspected that the woman’s attention was focused solely on her.
“How is your wound healing?” Grace asked, looking pointedly at Ellie’s shoulder.
Of course Grace knew who she was. She might even be behind the fact that Ellie had healed so fast.
“I have a list of herbs, tinctures, and supplies. I wonder if you could look at it and tell me what you think they’re for.”
Grace didn’t say anything for a moment. Instead, she put the branch down and turned the knob on the side of the cauldron.
“Why did you come to me, Ellie? There are other places you could have gone.”
“Derek gave me the list.”
Grace stretched her hand across the table.
She’d only made one paper copy and she’d given that to Salome. She found Derek’s email and handed her phone to Grace. She read the list quickly before giving the phone back to Ellie.
For a long time Grace didn’t say anything. When she did speak it was to ask a question.
“Where did he get this from?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why are you here, Ellie?”
“Because you’re Derek’s mother and if what I suspect is true, you might be able to stop him.”
Grace walked around the table, and went to sit on one of the couches in front of the fireplace. Ellie followed her and sat opposite. Grace stared at her hands for a very long time.
“There are several interesting items on that list,” Grace finally said. “Some I have heard about but have never actually seen.”
Grace closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and sat back against the couch cushions.
“What do you think the spell is for?” Grace asked with her eyes still closed.
“I think it’s black magic.”
Grace didn’t speak, almost as if she were waiting for Ellie to continue.
“I think it’s a spell to raise the dead.”
Grace opened her eyes. “That’s my belief as well.”
They sat in silence for a few moments while Ellie’s mind raced.
Grace spoke again, but what she said wasn’t reassuring in the least.
“For a number of years, there was a rumor about a book that supposedly contained all the forbidden spells of four millennia. What began as scrolls thought to have been burned when the library of Alexandria went up in flames had been lovingly transcribed onto those pages by students and apprentices of the great magicians. At least, that’s how the story went. We all knew it was nothing but a fabrication. Nothing that powerful could have survived all those years. And, if somehow it had, it would be too dangerous to be in the hands of one person.”
”The Grimoire of Alchimia Nigrae,” Ellie whispered.
Grace nodded.
“There were those who said that Lionel Adams possessed such a book. Maybe the rumors were true.”
They exchanged a long look.
Ellie was looking at Grace with hope in her eyes, as if the girl thought she could solve all the problems in her world.
Should she tell Ellie the truth?
Her hands and feet felt like ice. Her heart had slowed, almost as if it was readying itself for stopping. She was more nauseous than she could ever remember being, right on the verge of — as the slang would say — tossing her cookies. She was shaking badly, her body rebelling against the knowledge singing in her mind.
Evidently, the rumors had been true and Derek had found the grimoire and decided to put his power to the test.
All she’d wanted wa
s to arm him with information and thereby allow him to protect himself. Not this. Never this.
She might as well apologize to Ellie now for making a spectacle of herself in the next few minutes. She didn't know whether she was going to cry, scream, or throw up.
Not one solution came to mind. Not one spell of the thousands that she’d effortlessly repeated through the years would be enough for this catastrophe.
"Tell me everything," she said to the girl who reminded her of Pippi Longstocking. But Ellie Hunt wasn't a child. No, she was a practitioner who understood exactly what she was saying.
Ellie repeated what had happened this morning, including the spell Derek had used to release her from being a camera for the Elders. Grace remained silent, nodding where appropriate, and questioning when she needed clarification.
"I went to Sticks & Stones," Ellie said. "I was able to buy the last seven ingredients, but the first three I had to order.”
“Yes.” How odd that even that word was difficult to say. “They’re very hard to obtain. Thankfully. Yet Derek is not without persistence. He might be able to obtain them from other sources."
Because of Breanna he was also fantastically wealthy. If he wanted to proceed there would be no way to stop him.
"I think he wants to bring Breanna back.”
Grace nodded. That would be a reasonable assumption. They’d loved each other a great deal and sometimes love didn’t die when the body does. Yet it was a regrettable fact and one thing that humans needed to learn: some things have to be accepted. There were certain limitations, barriers beyond which you could not go.
Lionel Adams had never learned that lesson. It appeared as if Derek hadn’t, either.
“You have to stop him, Grace. It means his life if he succeeds.”
Ellie's words surprised her, because few people knew the real story of Lionel Adams. When it was discovered that he’d brought his wife back to life the Elders had met and decided that such an abomination could not be allowed to continue. Not only would Emily be destroyed, but Lionel must suffer the ultimate punishment.
The story was that Lionel had gone to Europe for a few years, had died there in the hedonistic pursuit of pleasure. In actuality, he’d died in the Crow’s Nest on the same night Emily had died a second time.
Grace stood and excused herself. She wasn’t entirely certain what she said as she left the Great Room. She glanced behind her to see Ellie sitting there on the couch, her bright red hair a beacon. Her posture was perfect. She didn’t slump. She had a capacity for peace and silence that a great many people did not possess.
She was also too damn intuitive.
Grace made it to her suite of rooms by holding onto the walls. The master bedroom took up the entire north side of the house with a view of the ornamental gardens.
Ellie had sensed her terror, but not, probably, the extent of it. She knew there wasn’t any kind of spell, decree, proclamation, potion, or action that would be able to stop Derek if he was determined to do the unforgivable.
He was going to tear the veil between life and death.
Grace loved her son with every cell in her body and had from the moment she’d known she was pregnant. Those nine months had been blessed. She’d been touched by joy and exhilaration, knowing that she was bringing life into the world.
Her midwife had been a member of NASACA, but Grace had requested that she not use any herbs or magic. She wanted to experience his birth completely.
When he was born, when the midwife lay Derek in her arms in this very room she had cried with pain and love. Pain because she was giving him away. Love because her heart had been irrevocably altered. She would never love anyone as much as she loved this cherished baby boy.
He was in danger. Such danger that the knowledge settled into her core like a chunk of ice. She might be unable to protect him for the first time in his life.
Desperation made her do the one thing that she shouldn’t do. She’d already dared too much by trying to see Jeffrey in her scrying bowl.
She pulled out her phone and dialed his number. She had looked it up days ago, wondering if she should challenge his identity. Now she was calling for another reason.
She needed a wizard’s power.
A young woman answered the phone, surprising her. She identified herself and by the speed with which she was routed she knew that her name was not unknown to Jeffrey’s staff. What did that mean? That she was infamous? Or that he had made it plain to them that she was a very important person?
The phone clicked once and then another time fifteen seconds later.
“Hello, Grace.”
She sat on the end of the chaise lounge beside the garden window. Outside was a profusion of color, flowers of all shapes and sizes, scents and purposes. Inside, her bedroom continued the floral motif. The chaise, the loveseat and the chair were all upholstered in the same flowered fabric. The carpet was a pale green, matching the bedspread.
“Jeffrey.”
Her throat almost closed on the word. She forced herself to take several deep breaths before continuing.
“How are you?”
“You didn’t call me after all these years, Grace, just to find out how I am.”
“No, of course I didn’t.”
Her palms felt clammy. Her stomach clenched. She hadn’t expected the signs of anxiety.
“There was an attempt on the life of my son the other day. At my house. Did you have anything to do with it?”
There was a pause during which he didn’t speak. Nor did she. In actuality, she hadn’t expected to ask that question of him. She had thought to throw herself on his mercy, ask for his assistance in convincing Derek that the path he chose was potentially life ending. However, everything had changed at the sound of his voice.
She wouldn’t ask this man for help.
“I’m surprised you asked me that question, Grace.”
“Why? I do not want my son harmed.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t think you do. If you do anything to Derek I will make sure that you are punished. Personally. Do you understand that?”
“I understand perfectly, Grace. It was lovely speaking with you.”
He hung up before she could. She stared at her phone for several moments, wondering if she had the courage to go back to the Great Room and tell Ellie that the situation had just gotten so much worse.
She’d learned two things from her phone call and the knowledge had been instantaneous. The man she’d just spoken to was not Jeffrey North. And Derek truly was in danger, not only because of his own actions, but from the man masquerading as his father.
31
Derek stood in the doorway of Ellie’s new office. Had he made a mistake giving her the list? He’d thought that she would be able to locate the ingredients easier than he could have, but it might have been a foolish impulse on his part.
He was still wary around her. Hell, he was on edge around anyone lately. When she returned he’d repeat the incantation Grace had given him, just in case the Elders had spelled her again.
He hadn’t slept well the night before. The bed in the guest room was comfortable and he got to stretch out, but he was awakened every few minutes with odd dreams. It felt as if someone was whispering to him in his sleep. When he woke he lay there for a few minutes, listening, but hadn’t heard anything.
He hadn’t given Ellie a key to the house, only the control number to the garage. She was able to park her car there and come inside, using the kitchen door. He’d know, however, when she arrived because of the app on his phone.
He checked it now to make sure it was working correctly, then took the stairs to the third floor. He unlocked the door, turned on the light, and entered the room.
The grimoire was where he’d left it. He pulled the chair closer to the book. He didn’t have the ingredients yet for the spell, but perhaps he should practice the lengthy incantation. He read it over first, then once more. Finally, he spoke it aloud, taking his
time over the unfamiliar words.
By the time he uttered the second sentence he felt the energy rise in the room. When he stretched out his hands he could feel it beneath his palms. His breathing accelerated in response.
The third time the words came easier, the sound of them almost like poetry.
The surge of power he felt surprised him. He hadn’t anticipated the exultant glee spreading through his body. Almost as if part of him, silent until now, was slowly awakening.
He abruptly stood, going to the cabinet on the far wall. The drawers were all neatly labeled. As he pulled out one after the other, he realized that he should have checked to see if most of the ingredients were here.
He opened his phone, scanned the list, and started at the top. He was right. Everything he needed was in the cabinet. Had Breanna kept everything out of affection for her father or had she attempted the spell?
The question disturbed him in a way he hadn’t expected.
He jerked every bag out of the drawers as well as a bunch of shallow crystal dishes and carried them to the altar. He didn’t have a lighter because he’d never smoked, even weed, which made him out of touch, according to a few of his friends in the newsroom. As far as he was concerned it just made him sober.
Luckily, he found a lighter in the chest still in the middle of the room. Maybe he should move it back to the closet. He didn’t know why, but it seemed to him that it was important that the room be clear of objects. Maybe that’s because when he had first seen the secret room the black slate floor had been empty of any furniture. There had only been the built-in cabinets on the two walls.
He removed the grimoire from the chest, placing it on the chair. He took a picture of the two pages of the spell with his phone, this time concentrating on the incantation rather than the ingredients.
Once the book was back in the cabinet and the doors closed, he moved the chair and chest back into the closet. Before leaving the closet he pulled the black cloth out of it. Once back in the room, he removed everything from the altar, covered it with the cloth, and replaced the candles. He lit all four of them, two on each end of the table. He also lit the end of what looked like an incense stick. Immediately, the room was suffused with a sickly sweet odor, one that reminded him of decay and flowers.