A Little Night Magic

by Angie Fox

  "I'm a married woman," I said, although if anybody had abs to rival Dimitri's, it was that guy.

  Frieda pursed her lips in appreciation. "He's Stella Howser's grandson." She broke into a grin. "Turns out he likes Bob's dandelion wine."

  My mouth fell open. "You drugged him?"

  "It only gave him a buzz, lowered his inhibitions, same as a regular drink. He's a big boy." She gave a low chuckle. "Besides, there aren't any side effects. We even spelled it so it won't interfere with anyone's meds. It's safer than conventional wine. We'll keep him here until it wears off and he'll go home feeling like the bee's knees."

  I'd have to trust her that meant something good.

  "Fine," I gritted out. It wasn't our biggest problem anyway. "Listen to me," I said, making sure I had her attention. "Grandma isn't feeling so hot. She's taking a break right now in Rosette's room."

  "I was wondering." She frowned. "I saw you leave."

  "Has she been feeling out of sorts?" Granted, I hadn't seen her in about a week. "She looked fine last weekend."

  Frieda played with the gold tag of her cat collar. "We all have our days," she said apologetically, as if they weren't allowed to get sick, as if I expected them to be superhuman.

  Maybe I did.

  Guilt wound through me. "All the same, I'd feel better if you talked to her. See if you can get her to be one hundred percent honest about her symptoms."

  I may have expected Grandma to push herself a little too hard before, but I'd make up for that now. If she were still asleep, I'd let her sleep. If she needed anything, I'd make sure she had it.

  "I'm on it," Frieda said, slipping out of the party with me. She didn't bother with her shoes, which was just as well. I didn't know how she walked in those platform sandals anyway.

  "This way," I said, hurrying down the corridor, anxious to have it settled. I couldn't shake this feeling of dread.

  Yes, I was the cautious one, the planner. But when push came to shove, it also helped me root out trouble.

  I stopped midway down the hall. "It's this one." A black wreath hung on the door, festooned with white ribbons, smiling skulls, and mini wooden coffin lids.

  In other circumstances, I would have thought it adorable. Now? It made me even more nervous.

  We knocked softly and entered.

  Black candles flickered between pots of herbs on the windowsill. The curtain had been drawn up. An orange sunset blazed across the sky, and I gave an involuntary shudder at the darkness seeping into the room.

  A twisted red candle flickered on the nightstand, next to the empty bed.

  My breath caught in my throat. "Grandma?" I called, hoping she was simply in the bathroom, although the hollowness in my gut told a different story. "Rosette?"

  My voice echoed off the walls.

  "You feel that prickle?" Frieda asked, her voice low, her tone urgent. "The energy that feels sharp as a woolly cactus? That's black magic."

  It skittered up my arms, like invisible spiders.

  Oh my God. Keep moving. Keep searching. I checked the bathroom, the closet. I even looked under the bed. "They're gone."

  Frieda stood rooted to a spot near the ad hoc altar. "Holy hell, Lizzie. There's something in the bed."

  I turned. The discarded, rumpled quilt covered most of the bed. A pillow lay askew. Then I saw it. A quivering lump, no bigger than my hand, near the center of the mattress.

  Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and the mule. "What the hell is that?"

  I drew a switch star, knowing my demon slayer weapons would be useless against a non-demon.

  The switch star warmed in my hand. It resembled a Chinese throwing star, only the blades on the ends spun and glowed pink when my fingers clutched the handles. I hoped it would be enough. It was the only thing I could do.

  "Back away. I've got this," I said.

  The room grew much, much darker than the approaching dusk outside the window. The air heated, practically sizzled. My hair stood on end.

  It felt like we were being sucked into a black hole.

  "Do it," Frieda hissed.

  Right. Only I needed to see what I was firing at.

  Every second we hesitated, the black magic grew stronger. It was impossible to know what to do, what kind of evil we faced, until I reached out with sweat-slicked fingers, grasped the edge of the quilt, and yanked it as hard as I could off the bed.

  A voodoo doll quivered on the sheets, as if it were alive.

  It wore a black dress. Long gray hair streamed out from under a witch's hat, and there, on the arm, was a hand-drawn tattoo of a phoenix.

  Thick needles pierced it at the neck, the chest, and straight through the left eyeball.

  It gave one final shudder as the head began to bleed a thick black sludge.

  Chapter 4

  "We've got to find her," I told Frieda.

  "Where?" she pleaded.

  That was the question. We had no idea where to look.

  I focused and reached deep down inside. I tried to feel my way through the dark magic swirling around us to learn where Grandma could be.

  It clung to me like tar, hot and sticky, blinding.

  "I'm going to at least take some of the pins out," Frieda said, reaching for the doll.

  "Don't touch it." I said quickly. "We don't know what kind of voodoo we're dealing with."

  We might only make it worse.

  Suddenly, I felt it stronger—as if merely speaking of the dark magic drew it to me. It seeped close, searching for an opening. It wanted to twist its way inside me, to weave its way into my very soul. Every instinct screamed at me to run. Instead, I let it stalk me while I searched for the source.

  I stood my ground, waited, drew it closer than I would have otherwise dared. It surged like a dark wave rolling onto the beach—a massive swell of power that felt very, very wrong.

  Frieda swayed under the assault. "I feel dizzy." She tried to lie down in the bed.

  "No." I touched her on the arm. She felt ice cold. The magic slid over our skin and suddenly I knew why I felt the rush of the waves, the pounding of the shore. It was coming from the beach.

  "This way," I said, escorting Frieda from the room. She couldn't come with me, not in the shape she was in, but I wasn't going to leave her alone in that place.

  When it came down to it, I wondered if anywhere was safe. Grandma had felt sick before she entered Rosette's room. Frieda succumbed afterward.

  I led her to a plush chair in the hallway. "Sit. I'll fix this. I'll be back soon."

  I spied an exit at the far end of the hall. Halfway there, I almost collided with a kind-faced, middle-aged nurse as she exited one of the rooms. "Hi. Sorry." I reached out to steady us both. "Will you take a look at my friend?" I asked, pointing out Frieda. "She's not feeling so well."

  "Of course," she began, trying to lead me back from where I came.

  I dodged past her. It hurt to leave Frieda, but I didn't have time to wait while the nurse checked her out. Besides, I had a feeling I'd be helping her more by getting to the bottom of this. "Is that the way to the beach?" I asked.

  The nurse smiled, somewhat taken aback by my exit. "Yes, but those doors will beep if you leave. It's best to go back through the building and around the—"

  "Gotcha." I ignored the nurse's protests as I dashed down the hall and blew out the back door.

  The alarm blared a harsh scree-scree-scree behind me. I hurried across a patio and down the stairs toward the beach. Sea grass rose up on either side of the narrow steps. I pressed forward, my boots pounding the wood below.

  Black magic pierced the air and I watched in horror as the sun sank below the waters of the Pacific. Samhain was upon us, the night when the veil was the thinnest between the living and the dead.

  I opened up my demon slayer senses and felt the irresistible pull of wanton destruction and death. It had been no coincidence that we found ourselves here on this night. Now I just had to figure out who had drawn us here and what they wanted.

&n
bsp; I followed the magic along the shore, my heart pounding as I struggled to move quickly through the sand.

  If I hadn't left Grandma, if I'd have stayed in the room with her…well, it might have been me caught in the snare. I wished it was.

  Then I saw the flicker of torches ahead, in a cove past the water. My mouth grew dry.

  It had to be them.

  I climbed the rocky outcropping, scattering pebbles, unsure of my next move. Somehow, I'd have to bridge the gap. I needed to figure out a way to navigate the dark waters ahead if I had any hope of making it to the secluded cove.

  One hand braced on my switch stars, I pressed forward, trusting the universe. I'd make it possible. Somehow. And just when I thought I'd step off the edge and plunge into the ocean, I came upon a narrow pathway.

  The sandy soil felt soft under my feet.

  I pulled the Maglite out of my utility belt, chancing a quick look. The path was barely as wide as a person, and left no room for error. At the same time, it seemed solid, and it snaked along the edge of the water.

  That was all I needed. I prayed it went as far as the cove.

  A woman's voice uttered a low chant, barely discernible amid the breaking of the waves.

  I killed my light. It was too much of a risk. Then I stepped onto the path.

  I was on my own, unless Frieda somehow recovered and rallied the others. I didn't have high hopes for that. Whatever attacked Grandma had struck Frieda as well. It might have even made it to the other witches by now.

  The chanting grew louder. The pounding of drums echoed over the water and I doubled my pace, moving as quickly as I possibly could. I didn't know much about voodoo rituals, but everything I'd seen made me think they were obsessed with death. Sacrifice.

  I turned the corner and stared in horror.

  Torches illuminated a small cove amid the cliffs. Inside the grim circle of light, Rosette pounded on the drums, chanting, while in the center of a blackened circle of ashes, Grandma stood, battling for her life.

  A twisted, blackened entity hovered over her, poised to strike.

  She watched it like the predator it was. All the while, she chanted age-old words of magic. "Modestro tolomus avanhara."

  The ancient spells spilled from Grandma as she wound her hands through the air. Black ooze trickled down her forehead.

  She had no spell jars, no backup.

  I drew a switch star.

  "Stop!" Rosetta called, missing a beat on her drum.

  Grandma spun to look at me, losing her focus on the entity. She cried out as it slammed into her shoulder.

  Oh my God. "Grandma!" I dashed down the embankment.

  "Don't cross the ashen line," Rosetta warned, attempting to block me. I ducked around her, aiming the switch star for the entity. I had no idea what part of it to target or if it would even work against a creature that was more black magic than flesh and blood.

  But I focused my strength, my will, my positive focus that I could defeat this monster, that I could free Grandma. That everything would be all right.

  I let loose my switch star in a blaze of pure energy and light.

  It struck the being and exploded in a surge of power that made me weak in the knees. The force of it knocked Grandma to the ground. She rolled away and came up in a crouch, ready to go again.

  I watched in horror as the creature broke into at least a dozen writhing, fiery pieces. They spewed like a volcanic explosion into burning chunks on the beach.

  I might have just made it worse.

  My switch star winged back to me like a boomerang.

  Rosette charged the nearest chunk of molten magic. "Halo mancha verno ta!" she shouted. "Away with spirits bold and soiled!" Rosette stomped on the fiery mass, sending up a wave of purple sparks. "Away!" she shouted, her shoes smoking, as if she could banish it by force of will alone.

  It fell to ash under her feet.

  Holy smokes. I took the next one. "Away with spirits bold and soiled!" I hollered. The slice of magic felt soft under my feet, as though I could sink straight into it. "Away!" I insisted, ignoring the quicksand feel of it, how the chunks of burning soot broke into purple shards of energy. They snaked at my legs, burned ribbons up my knees. "Away!"

  Grandma held her hands over a half dozen or more of the splintering chunks. She chanted, forced out her power over them. One by one they sparked and crumbled. The final slice let out a crackling groan before it too disintegrated like ash.

  I saw I stood on a circle of blackened soot. Nothing of the fire or magic remained under my feet, nor were there any more shards on the beach. We were left with the pounding of the waves and the crackling of the torches.

  Rosette shook, rubbing her hands over her eyes.

  I hurried to Grandma. She stood alone, speaking so low to herself it almost sounded like humming. I should probably leave her alone, but I had to know. "Are you all right?"

  She stared past me, as if she could see entities I couldn't. "Yeah," she said, absently. "I think we got it."

  I shivered. The air felt electric, charged with excess energy. "What was it?"

  Grandma shook her head. Her hair tangled in her eyes and over her shoulders. She pushed it aside. "A voodoo curse come to life." She turned to her friend. "What are you playing at, Rosie?"

  Grandma's friend wiped at her swollen eyes and swallowed hard, as if she couldn't quite believe we'd made it through. "It was supposed to be a love spell." She flinched as a purple spark crackled in the dead fire and launched into the night. "I'm so sorry." She hurried to where the spark had ignited. "Away!" She stomped, reaching into her pocket and sprinkling what appeared to be dirt and herbs onto the fire. "Away!"

  "That felt like the last of it," Grandma said, rubbing a boot in the ashes.

  "I never meant…" she began, stumbling over her words. "It should have been simple. One spell." She crossed her arms over her chest, still stomping. "I needed a lock of my rival's hair." She swallowed hard. "You weren't even supposed to notice."

  Grandma stared at Rosette as if she didn't quite know what to make of that. "Spell work is dangerous on this kind of land," she said, going with what she knew. "Any kind of negative emotion can make it go dark, turn it into a curse," Grandma warned, too late. "I told you that you were powerful."

  She didn't say the rest—that Rosette would have to be very angry with Grandma for it to have gotten this far.

  She ran a hand over her tear-stained cheek. "The doll was to make you sleepy, not sick. Once I had your hair, it was supposed to be over. I don't even remember kidnapping you to the beach."

  "I know," Grandma said, "I saw it in your eyes. You weren't there. Until it began the attack."

  A tear escaped. "Then it was too late."

  "You took control of the drums," Grandma said. "You did your best to cage it."

  "Until your granddaughter blasted it," Rosette said, her voice thick with gratitude. She turned to me. "You're a good girl, Lizzie."

  "I try," I said. It wasn't always easy to stay on top of this crowd.

  Grandma smiled. She knew.

  Rosette poked at the remains of the fire with her feet, as if she refused to believe she could conquer her demons.

  Grandma went to her old friend. She stood in the dead fire with her and touched Rosette's arm. "Stop your stomping. It's over." She tilted her head. "Now tell me. Why am I your rival?"

  Rosette stared down at the ashes, her dreadlocks shielding her face before her gaze found Grandma's. "Remember? You stole Eddie Turner. At the Independence Day party in 1976."

  "Ah." Grandma clucked with sympathy. I could tell she was having trouble figuring out just who this Eddie Turner might be.

  Rosette blinked back fresh tears as she avoided Grandma's scrutiny. Instead, she looked out to the ocean. "He was sweet on me. I could tell. It was only a matter of time before he asked me out," she said, a flush creeping up her cheeks. "Then you took him to the movies. You asked him out. You made him like you."

  "Aw," Grandma s
aid gently. "I didn't know you liked him."

  "No doubt you had a love spell," Rosette challenged, as if daring her to deny it.

  "I've always used something better," Grandma said. "You want to know my secret?"

  "No," Rosette said, wiping at her eyes, looking back to the mess on the beach. "I'll stick to protective magic. It's the only thing I'm good at."

  "Don't say that," Grandma soothed. "It's hard to do positive conjuring on bad land. It took our whole coven to put on the witches' bash. The bad magic kept trying to seep up and taint it, like it corrupted your love spell." She shook her head. "I won't deny you made a mistake in judgment." Grandma held her hands up over the beach and glanced at me. "It's gone, isn't it?"

  I opened up my demon slayer senses, gave it a thorough search. "Yes." The only remnants were the ashes on the beach, and even those would be gone with the tide.

  "I'm so sorry." Rosette sniffled as she began dousing the torches. "I should have kept Eddie in my past. I haven't seen him in forty years, and I've been avoiding him ever since he moved into one of the apartments upstairs."

  Grandma's jaw dropped. "At the Ocean View Senior Living Center?"

  "Not even two weeks ago," Rosette said.

  "That's fate," Grandma said, serious as a heart attack.

  Her friend reddened at the cheeks. "I figured the Halloween party would be a good time to rekindle our acquaintance. One of the nurses said he was going."

  "That's perfect," Grandma said. She'd regained her strength and the warmth in her voice. I could tell she had an idea. "But you don't need a love spell. You don't even need live chickens or naked chanting to get his attention. You can get Eddie on your own."

  "Impossible," Rosette huffed.

  "You want to try it?" Grandma prodded. "Because I'd be damned pissed if you voodooed me, stole a lock of my hair, and got me attacked by a nasty-ass spirit and then turn scaredy-cat when it comes to getting the man at the end."

  Rosette stood still, the light from the last torch flickering over her features. "I can't believe you'd want to help me after what I did."