by Jill Nojack
Gillian gave Robert a questioning glance, but he shook his head. Natalie looked at Cassie next, who fiddled with a strand of her long hair, looking at Tom. No one spoke up.
Looks like it’s up to me again, thought Natalie. And she’d obviously have to prod them into a plan regarding Akers. Natalie sighed. Then she jumped, almost falling on the uneven ground, when William reappeared unanticipated at her side. Cassie gasped behind her. She could forgive Cassie as the manifestation had been abrupt, but Natalie had never once been so distracted that she didn’t notice the whiff of ozone that always signaled a ghostly visitor was on its way—unless there was no whiff of ozone.
No, it’s not possible, she assured herself, scrutinizing William as he walked beside her.
Still, most people weren’t used to the dead popping in and out as they pleased, she mused, which gave her the most delightful idea.
22
“You’ll have to do better than that,” Natalie said from her place on the couch, “or you’ll give yourself away before you get anywhere near him.” She leaned toward William, studying his face. “Your eyes never glowed like that before. You’ll simply have to tone it down.”
William turned to look in the hall mirror and the blue glow in his eyes lessened. “I’m getting the hang of it. Don’t be a worry wart. This will work out fine, you’ll see.”
“It had better. We have to hand Denton something he can nail Akers with.”
“Gosh, Nat, do you really think I’m not every bit as eager to see him caught as you are? I’m the one he murdered, remember?”
She looked away, suddenly intent on arranging the items on the end table. After a moment, she turned, saying softly, “But you weren’t the only one he destroyed.”
The light in his eyes went out and he started toward her, reaching for her, but she bolted up from the couch and moved away, composing her face as she did. “We’ll just have to go earlier than we planned. I would have preferred dusk, but late afternoon will do. Let’s say 4 p.m.” When she turned back to him, all traces of her earlier softness were gone.
“Keep rehearsing,” she said. “I have an errand to run. And don’t be late.”
***
Cassie and Daria exchanged nervous glances where they sat across from each other in the parlor of the shop’s apartment. Cassie knew it wasn’t going to be easy for Twink, but Daria said she always felt there was something Mama Barton had been hiding behind the threats and bluster. In the end, she’d decided that Twink had the right to know about her family’s legacy.
Daria had even asked if maybe she had magic too, and Cassie had probed gently at her friend’s spine, looking for the spark, but she didn’t find one.
When Twink walked into the parlor, Cassie and Daria both stared at her.
“What?” she half-whined, half-growled at them. “Don’t even tell me I’m in trouble again.”
Daria shook her head. “No. But we have something to tell you. And you have to promise you won’t tell anyone, not even Marcus, at least not for a little while. Because that could end up being trouble. And not just for you, but for a lot of people.”
She sat on a chair across the room and set her backpack on her knees, hugging it to her chest. “What people?”
“All of the witches of Giles. We like to keep it on the down low,” Cassie replied.
“Why? Are you afraid the witches of Salem will find out your team’s strategy and beat you at flag football?” She laughed. “I mean, I’ll live behind a magic shop just like I’d live behind a beauty shop, but I’m not buying the whole—”
Cassie raised a hand and a golden glow moved quickly outward from her fingertips toward an unopened bud in a vase on the end table. When the glow enveloped it, the flower unfurled. Within a few seconds, the bud had bloomed into a perfect and fragrant rose.
Daria gasped. Twink took a deep breath too, looking like she wanted to say something, but didn’t. She hugged her backpack tighter.
“You want to see a beautician work that kind of magic on anyone? I’m for sure a witch. But so are you.”
Twink came back to life then. “Uh, no,” she said, her right hand going to her hip and her head rocking forward. “I don’t know what you are, but it’s got nothing to do with me.”
“It has everything to do with you. Teenage witches who aren’t being taught, they . . . leak. I guess that’s what you could call it. Their magic makes stuff happen that they don’t even know about. It depends on what kind of magic the girl has, but it can be wind, or things getting thrown around and broken, or fires, or flowers growing when you walk past.” She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her legs. “But mostly, it’s not the good stuff.”
Twink cocked her head to one side and her eyes narrowed. “You mean like, a witch could just walk through a room and stuff breaks?”
“Yeah, like that. You know anyone who has that kind of problem?” Cassie gave her a tentative smile.
Twink leaned back in the chair and grabbed her backpack tight again. She shook her head. “No, I don’t believe you.”
Cassie shrugged. “Then it’s just going to keep happening.”
Twink bounded up, tossing the backpack on the ground. She pointed a finger at Cassie, angry now. “You, you’re crazy!” Then, she pointed at Daria. “And you, why are you going along with this? Did you drink the crazy juice, too?”
Daria started toward her cousin, “Look, Twink, even my mama . . .”
Twink put her hands to her ears, holding them tightly. “Shut up, shut up, shut up! I didn’t do any of those things my mother says I did! I didn’t do it!”
The glass in the large, vintage, overhead light fixture shattered with a loud crack directly over Twink’s head. She turned her face upward at the sound and froze in place as the shards rained down.
Cassie reacted in a heartbeat. She flung a hand out, and the broken pieces of glass flew backward, embedding themselves like arrows in the wall or falling glinting to the carpet. Cassie rushed forward to pull her close, and Twink didn’t fight as she started to cry.
With the girl’s face buried in her shoulder and one head stroking her hair, Cassie said, “No. You didn’t. You didn’t do any of it; your magic did. And you can control your magic with help. I know people. I can make it happen.”
***
Natalie had never liked driving in Boston, and she liked it even less today with what she had to worry about. Still, she’d been to Boston City Hall before and found a place to park easily enough, although the walk from the parking garage wasn’t as pleasant as the same distance through the woods.
She sat on a bench in the hallway outside the records room and let her mind loose through the stacks, chasing a trail through the bound volumes from the newest birth to the oldest and dabbing out the small changes she needed to make. It was more difficult than she thought it would be, but she quickly got the hang of it. She’d never rearranged ink from a distance before, and had been forced to look it up, but there it was in her grandmother’s grimoire, waiting for her. Ink from a pot or ink from a typewriter ribbon, it made no difference. It could be manipulated if you knew how.
She was glad there was so little geographic mobility in the Boston branch of the Taylor family. It made things easier to have the records all in one place.
Only one more alteration, she thought as she opened the books for 1966 one by one in her mind’s eye. Ah, there it is.
She enjoyed it, sitting on the bench, smiling at passersby while she created descendants from her unused womb in a straight line to her target.
She stood up and shook off the smell of musty old paper, then headed out to the parking lot. She had to be at Gerald Aker’s by four and couldn’t afford to get caught in rush hour traffic. William had better have his eye on the clock, too. They’d only have one go at it.
23
“Ms. Taylor. What a nice surprise,” Gerald said, beaming her his company smile. But Gerald wasn’t surprised to see her. Busybodies like Natalie Taylor never managed t
o keep their noses out of other people’s business for long. His eyes moved beyond her as he asked, “Did Gillian come with you?”
“No, I’m afraid she had to work today.”
“Too bad. By all means, come in. Which do you prefer? Coffee or tea?” He turned his back on her and headed for the kitchen.
“Nothing for me,” she told him as she followed him through the big house with its dark wood and natural stone facings. When he motioned for her to sit opposite the sliding glass doors to the deck, she instead placed a hand on the back of the chair. “And, of course, the reason I’m having nothing is because I certainly wouldn’t want to give you the opportunity to slip a little something extra into my drink, would I?”
His cheeks reddened at the jab, accentuating the old acne scars, but he played it off, laughing. “I see you’re in a playful mood today.”
“Hardly playful,” she replied. “What’s the matter? Don’t you have the guts to attack a woman without sneaking up from behind?”
His eyes narrowed, and an angry flush rose higher on the back of his neck.
She beckoned to him with the cupped fingers of one hand, her face impassive. “Come on. I’m sure a big, strong man like you can beat a frail old lady in a fair fight, can’t you?”
There could be a wire under her blouse, he realized. Still, all he had to do was keep his calm. But her grin was infuriating. Since when did the Giles police department start sending the town’s seniors out to investigate their crimes? They didn’t. He laughed. The delusional old hag was here on her own.
She unclasped the mouth of the red purse that hung on her arm and reached inside, retrieving a thick hank of rope. He couldn’t understand how it had fit.
“I prepared it for you,” she said as she tossed it to him. It dripped in his lap. “There now, isn’t that what you need? I’ve already got your sweet little note and the funny glasses. I suppose those symbolize my detecting efforts? Lacks originality, I think.”
He said nothing. She was a fool to come here on her own. He picked up the rope and unwound it slowly, shaking its length loose when he was done. He would have finished her once before if he hadn’t been interrupted. If she assumed he wouldn’t risk it again, she was even more of a fool than he’d thought.
He pulled the rope out tight in front of him and barreled toward her.
She grasped the center of the rope and used it to push him away. She was stronger than she looked. He let it go and grabbed for her center, pushing her backward.
They fell through the glass together, shards raining down around them. When she hit the ground outside, she rolled over and scrambled to her knees, moaning.
He ran back inside for the rope.
As he stalked toward her, she rolled over stiffly and stood to face him, saying, “You killed all of them, isn’t that the truth of it? Your wife, her lover, and even William Stanford and the others, so long ago. You told yourself you were justified because they’d humiliated you, but you really just enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
He heard a siren in the distance now, but he had time. It wouldn’t take much to dispatch her. He could carry her across one shoulder and take her out to the lake before the police arrived. She was tall for a woman, but she was thin and no more substantial than a bird. He’d tell the police he’d tried to save her after the maniac broke in, but he’d been too late.
“They got what they deserved,” he said. He’d enjoy telling her what she wanted to know. She wouldn’t have time to harm him with it. “They humiliated me. They stripped me naked in public and tied me up in the rain with the lightning crashing everywhere. Those soshes said I was no different than a dog, that I could never be one of them. I was sure it would only be minutes before the lightning struck the tower and traveled the length of the rope to fry me.” He felt the fury rising, overtaking even his instinct for preservation as the sound of the siren drew nearer. “And when I finally return to Giles, a top dog now in my fancy house with my fancy wife, she humiliates me all over again with a man who wasn’t good enough to lick her shoes.”
Natalie laughed in response, her voice going lower and deeper. Not a feminine voice at all. “Thanks, Gerald, that’s all we needed to know.”
He could have sworn her brown eyes glowed blue for a moment before he fell on her with the rope, stretching it across and around her neck, choking, squeezing—he let the sensation take him. She fought back, got the rope away, but was no match for him. Even when the siren stopped and footsteps rushed across the wooden deck, he had his hands around her neck. It felt even nicer without the rope. He couldn’t let go. He had to make sure she was dead.
He lost his grip when strong but ropey arms wrapped around him as Chief Karl Denton landed in a blast of motion and shoved him off the silent body.
***
The back of Denton’s arm slid against the deck painfully as the weight of his body bore the other man away from his victim. Despite his age, Akers came back at him with a fierce strength, shoving Denton’s head backward with one palm and fighting to rise with the other.
Denton had no leverage with his head pushed back on its stalk. He released his opponent and moved backward, watching as Gerald rose, raising a foot to shove at him as Denton struggled upward. It slammed into Denton’s chest, sending him backward, the wind knocked out of him. He landed heavily on his hands as Akers turned to run.
Denton lunged forward and grabbed an ankle, his hand closing around it like a trap. They were both stuck now. Splinters from the deck stung his arm as Akers dragged him across it. He scrambled to his knees, but was flattened when Akers grabbed the railing and dragged himself forward swiftly, sending Denton sprawling.
But there it was, finally: the sirens of the town’s other cruisers growing louder as they speeded closer. Like the persistent bulldog that he was, all Denton had to do was hang on until they got there.
***
Denton scrambled upright and turned back to aid the victim once the patrolmen had Akers firmly in their grip, but there was no one else on the deck now.
Where had she gone? She’d need help after the brutal attack he’d just witnessed. Maybe she crawled away while he was busy. He started toward the steps into the yard. And then he heard her.
“Good day, Chief. Looking for me?” Natalie sauntered toward him from the brush on the left side of the house, her red purse slung over her arm, patting her hair to smooth it. She didn’t look even slightly disheveled; something was wrong with this picture.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“Just fine, thank you. I’m scrappier than I look. I managed to keep the rope just far enough away from my neck to prevent any damage.”
“That’s not what I saw,” he told her gruffly.
“You must have been mistaken, what with the rush of testosterone and all. I hear the stuff can be muddling.” She inclined her head slightly toward him as she mounted the stairs to join him on the deck. “I suppose I should thank you though, so . . .” She didn’t finish. “I assume you have what you need now to take Mr. Akers in for the murders? I don’t suppose you heard his confession at the end there? That would be helpful.”
“If that was your version of a thank you in there somewhere, you’re welcome.” He rested his hands on his gun belt. “But as of right now, I can only take him in for attempted murder. With me as a witness, he’s not getting out of that one. Unfortunately, I didn’t hear anything; if he confessed to you, then you’ll be able to testify to what he said. I’ve also got my men tearing apart the house as we speak. We hope we’ll find something to connect him to the other murders. For now, I need you to stay put. If you’re not hurt, then someone will get your statement soon. Don’t even think about walking away from the scene this time.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Natalie said with a smirk, lowering herself carefully into one of the sturdy canvas deck chairs.
“Chief, you gotta come look at this,” someone called from behind. He turned to the officer who was standing in the open sliding door.
“The guy had a key to his safe on his keychain. We got right into it. He kept records of everything. We’ve got a diary. We’ve got clippings. You just broke open the biggest unsolved cases of two different decades.”
Denton grinned, then dropped into neutral again before turning back to Natalie. He raised his finger. “Remember, you stay put.”
“Of course.”
As he walked toward the house, he was sure he heard a man whisper, “That was fun,” followed by a woman’s giggle. He turned back to look, but the Taylor woman was digging in her purse for something, still alone.
24
Gillian led the way to Robert’s huge library of witchcraft and the paranormal. Natalie and Cassie trailed behind.
“Are you going to tell us what we’re looking for, at least?” Gillian asked, as Natalie headed for a wall of bookshelves labeled “Pre-Christian.”
“It’s ancient stuff. I barely remember where I first encountered the concept. Plato, maybe?” She looked back at Gillian. “Does Robert have any Plato?”
She ran her finger across the titles at the left side of the shelf while Gillian pursed her lips and ran a finger across the titles on the right. She pulled one of them off the shelf and flicked rapidly through the pages.
“There, a daimon, that’s what I was looking for,” she exclaimed, raising the book in one hand as she beckoned with the other. Her hopeful expression dimmed. “But a daimon is assigned as a guardian at birth. See, right here.” She tapped her finger on the page. “It’s not quite right. They’re still too ethereal. I’m looking for something earthier. Was it Roman rather than Greek? I never thought much of Plato in any case.”
Cassie reached for the book, but Natalie slammed it shut and set it down. She turned back to the shelf, frowning.
Cassie put a hand on her shoulder. “You know, if you tell us what you’re looking for, we can help. Otherwise, why are we here?”