“You mean you won't. I'm sure you can.”
Zinnia said nothing. There were indeed ways to make contact with ghosts, but the spells were dangerous and required multiple spellcasters.
A tense silence hung in the air.
When Zinnia spoke, she chose her words carefully. “If it were truly that easy, I would have done so already.”
“I bet.” Charlize, who'd been staring at the candid photos on the vintage fridge, finished her inspection of the kitchen and grabbed a seat, turning a chair around and straddling it. “Hey, Annette,” she said in a falsetto tone, imitating Zinnia in a scenario where she called the ghost on a ghost phone. “Tell me something, girlfriend. Who or what killed you, and how? Oh, really? Okay, okay! Slow down, I can't write that fast.”
Zinnia was not amused. “Only a few of the most cursed witches interact with the dead.” She licked her lips and added, “Poor things.” Her older sister had been one of those cursed witches, and she'd taken extreme measures to free herself. But that was none of this gorgon's business.
“Only a few? I thought all of you witches were cursed.”
“Charmed or cursed, it all depends on your perspective.”
Charlize waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. Glass half empty, glass half full. Speaking of which, is that coffee ready?”
Zinnia turned her back on the gorgon. The coffee was ready.
Charlize asked, in the most casual of tones, “So, did you know Annette Scholem was one of you? That she was a witch?”
Zinnia's hand missed the handle of the coffee pot. Her fingertips sizzled as they touched the hot glass. She didn't yank her hand away. It was not that it didn't hurt, but the news was so revelatory, she didn't notice her fingertips scalding.
Annette Scholem was a witch?
Zinnia was glad she had her back to the gorgon because she wouldn't have been able to maintain a poker face.
A witch.
Annette!
But of course Annette was a witch. That explained why she knew everyone's secret powers to write them in her book. It had nothing to do with the pen.
Secrets revealed are trouble unsealed.
Suddenly, so many things made sense.
Chapter 22
Charlize said, “I'll take it by the way you're fondling that hot coffee pot that you didn't know Annette Scholem was a witch.”
Zinnia recovered from the shock of the news and put on her poker face. She shook her hand to fix her burned fingertips, then grabbed the coffee pot by the handle, along with a mug, and brought both over to the table. Charlize, who'd been straddling a kitchen chair, got up just long enough to turn her chair around and sit like a lady. Zinnia considered breaking out the tequila after all, but the impulse quickly passed.
Zinnia lifted her chin and looked directly into the blonde's eyes as she sat. Face your fears, her mentor used to say. It was good advice for anyone.
Zinnia took a good look at the young woman in front of her. She was beautiful and fierce, yes, but she was also partly human. Zinnia scanned down to the woman's hands. And there it was. The flaw. The chink in the armor. Charlize had short, ragged fingernails. She was a nail biter.
Seeing this sign of humanity softened Zinnia's edge. Why was she so dead set against cooperating with the people who worked in the shadows? They were just people. Sort of. Why not try trusting them? Or at least this one.
Zinnia spoke softly. “Honestly, I didn't know Annette was a witch. None of us knew.” She poured the gorgon's coffee.
“That does explain a few things,” Charlize said. “You're not lying to me, are you?”
“I'm telling you the truth. I shall only tell you the truth today.” Zinnia moved her hands in a magical threading-the-needle gesture. “My word is my bond.”
“Neat,” Charlize said. “The hand gesture is a nice touch.”
Zinnia wasn't sure if she was being teased or praised, so she said nothing.
Charlize took a big slurp of the steaming coffee and made a face. “Ow. This coffee is hot. I burned my tongue.”
Zinnia reached out her hand, two fingers extended. “Here. Let me fix that burn.”
Charlize frowned for a moment before understanding what the witch was offering. She hesitantly stuck out her tongue. Zinnia was surprised to see the woman's tongue looked like a regular, human tongue. She'd been expecting something snakelike. Forked.
Zinnia pinched the round tip between her fingers, sent healing energy forward, and quickly released it. The transaction had taken all of two seconds. A burned tongue doesn't take much to heal with magic.
“Much better,” Charlize said. “I can see how it would be handy to have one of you around.”
“You're welcome,” Zinnia said, even though she hadn't been thanked.
“I owe you one.”
Zinnia held her peace. She couldn't imagine anything she'd ever want from a gorgon, but whatever.
Zinnia asked, “How did you find out Annette was a witch? I didn't even know, and I've worked five feet away from her for the last year.”
“It was her organs.”
Zinnia fought down revulsion and asked, “The ones that were removed by the attacker?”
“The attacker didn't remove or consume anything,” Charlize said. “It just looked that way.”
“Good,” Zinnia said. The crime was still horrific, but the news that nothing had eaten Annette's organs came as a small relief.
“As for how we could tell she was a witch, I'm afraid our autopsy guys weren't too generous with the details. Jerry Lund called in Dr. Bob to help, and that's when they figured it out. That's all I know. Dr. Bob's a brilliant doctor, but he can be secretive.”
“Yes. Your people can be secretive.” Zinnia glanced down at Charlize's ragged fingernails to summon her courage to ask the next question. “As for the wounds, what manner of creature made them? Was it a shifter? One of yours?”
The snakes hiding within Charlize's ringlets appeared and hissed with displeasure. “Whether it was a wolf or a cougar who attacked Ms. Scholem, he or she wasn't one of ours. All of our agents are accounted for.”
“Sure they are.” Like protects like. Zinnia hadn't expected any different. When Margaret got the full report of this meeting, she wouldn't be surprised either.
“The funny thing is...” Charlize paused, her cold blue eyes sparkling now. She was excited about sharing this next detail. “I don't think Annette knew she was a witch. Did she ever mention to you she was adopted?”
The word bond Zinnia had taken made her answer quickly and honestly, without filtering the response through her thoughts. “No, she never mentioned it, but the narrator in her book was adopted, so I'm not that surprised.”
“Isn't that funny? She didn't know she was a witch.”
Zinnia stiffened in her chair. She crossed her arms. “It's not funny for a witch to be unaware of her powers. It could lead to someone being seriously injured.”
Charlize shrugged. “I thought it was funny.”
Zinnia said nothing.
Charlize said, “Stonewalling me, huh?”
“Are you actually working the case, or is this a social call, Ms. Wakeful?”
“What's wrong with a social call? Us girls should be closer.”
“And do us girls have any suspects?”
“There's Villobek, whoever that is. Good job using your witcher-i-doo to track him or her to the swamp, by the way. Any chance I can get you and the other witch to do another one of those spells?”
“There'd be no point. The evil entity develops an immunity after the first casting.”
Charlize wrinkled her nose. “You're pulling my leg.”
“I don't make the rules.”
“How does it work? The immunity?”
Zinnia felt a twinge of mischief. “Are you asking for the investigation, or are you planning to do something evil?”
Charlize laughed. “Good one. But seriously. How does an evil entity develop immunity to witchcraft?”
; “It's not like witchbane, if that's what you're wondering. It's just immunity to specific spells. Like how the flu shot gives people a little bit of the virus so they don't get hit harder later.”
“Interesting.” Charlize looked thoughtful. “I should be taking notes. We should get you to come in and run some workshops. You can educate us about the wicked and wonderful ways of witches.”
Zinnia spoke with honesty. “That will never, ever happen. The less other people know about witches, the better. Especially the ‘people' you work with.”
Charlize pouted.
“I don't make the rules,” Zinnia said again.
Charlize looked down at her coffee. She lifted it to her lips and blew over it carefully before taking a cautious sip. “Perfect,” she said.
“You were saying?” Zinnia made a rolling gesture with one hand. “About suspects?”
“There's the obvious one. Carrot Greyson.”
“She does seem to be connected.”
“Our current theory is that Greyson was remotely operating animals from a trance state. She's got a few other animal tattoos, in addition to the cougar on her chest. If she's controlling animals, it would explain a few things.”
“Such as?”
“For example, some of the squirrels in this town are extremely erratic.”
“Yes. The squirrels in this town are erratic.” Zinnia thought of one in particular: Petey the Squirrel. He was a pest who regularly mugged people for their muffins at Wisteria's sidewalk cafes.
“When Carrot was interviewed last night, she told us she'd been dreaming about the attacks. Vivid dreams. On Monday night, she dreamed she was the animal who attacked Annette. When she woke up, the memory was so powerful, it made her violently ill. That's why she called in to work sick on Tuesday. The next night, she—”
Zinnia interrupted. “Why would Carrot do something that made her sick? It's more logical that she was picking up a stray signal, maybe from someone else.” Zinnia shook her head. “Carrot is as innocent as they come.”
Charlize drank more coffee and continued. “Carrot went to bed early last night, right after she got home from bowling with your office. She dreamed that she was stalking two women in the woods. When she recognized them as her coworkers, Margaret Mills and you, she woke up, jumped in her car and drove to the marsh, which she'd recognized in the dream. She didn't understand what was happening, but she wanted to see for herself if she was crazy.” Charlize smirked. “I find that people in this town do that sort of thing a lot.”
“That explains why she showed up, but I think you're barking up the wrong tree with her as a suspect. Are you absolutely certain it wasn't one of your shifter pals? For example, your brother-in-law?”
Charlize chewed on one of her ragged fingernails. “He's not my brother-in-law. Chet and Chessa were only engaged before the accident. Not married.”
“But he is a wolf. Or at least he's a wolf when he wants to be.”
Charlize said, “Since you're being honest with me, I won't deny it. Yes, Chet Moore is a wolf shifter. No, he didn't kill Scholem. He was working late that night on a project, and I can personally assure you he's accounted for.”
Zinnia pressed on. “And how about your other brother-in-law, Jordan Taub? He spends his days baking, but how does he spend his nights?”
Charlize chewed a new fingernail. “How interesting. You think Jordan is a shifter. You don't know very much about what goes on in this town, do you?”
Zinnia licked her lips, remembering the taste of the cougar's blood. She didn't know everything, but she was finding out more every day.
Charlize yanked her fingers out of her mouth. She couldn't resist tearing off a piece of ragged fingernail and setting it on the table next to her coffee mug.
Zinnia stared at the torn fingernail and thought of something she'd noticed at the crime scene. “There wasn't any blood on the windowsill of the office. You'd think that a wild wolf or cougar would leave a few drips or smears behind when they climbed back out through the window.”
“True,” Charlize said. “But there were blood stains on the carpet near the window. Not enough that we needed to replace the carpet, but the cleanup crew did steam it.”
“But there was no blood on the windowsill.” Zinnia kept staring at the piece of fingernail on the table. “Whoever attacked Annette might not have gone out through the window, which leaves the door. But with the way the chair was wedged up against the door, that seems unlikely. It's almost as though the attacker simply stomped their foot three times and disappeared.”
“Like a gnome?”
Zinnia looked up into the gorgon's eyes. It was getting easier each time. “Exactly like a gnome.”
Charlize frowned. “I suppose we could look into Gavin Gorman's alibi.”
“Unlike Carrot, Gavin actually had motivation to get rid of Annette. She was always telling Dawna that she could do better than him.” Not that it had done any good. Even with Annette gone, the two had already broken up yet again.
“You make a good point,” Charlize said. “I'm glad I came by to talk to you.” She looked past Zinnia, at something that made her smile. “I've learned so much.”
Zinnia asked, “Where is Carrot right now, anyway?”
“Don't worry. She's fine. Carrot doesn't know it, but she's got friends in high places.”
Zinnia's interest was piqued. “Oh?”
“Her brother, and also her—” Charlize frowned. “Forget I said that.” She waved a hand while her semi-visible hair snakes hissed. “Forget I said anything about Carrot's friends in high places.” More hissing. “Forget thisssssss.”
Zinnia waved her own hand in the opposite direction, countering the spell. “Witches don't forget so easily.”
Charlize sighed. Then she slugged back the rest of the coffee and jumped to her feet, her silver jumpsuit rustling as she did.
“Thanks for the coffee,” Charlize said. “I should be on my way. I only came here for information, and now I've got it.”
“What information? Do you have something else on Gavin?”
Charlize quirked one eyebrow and spoke stiffly. “I'm afraid I can't let the cat out of the bag yet, so to speak.”
Zinnia snapped her fingers in a darn gesture. “Ms. Wakeful, I would threaten to turn you into a frog right now if I wasn't sure you'd turn me into a statue first.”
Charlize grinned. “You're fun when you get loosened up. We should hang out more often.” She headed for the door. Zinnia followed.
When they reached the entryway, Charlize paused, looking up at the garden painted on the ceiling. “You should be careful, Ms. Riddle. Stay close to home for a couple of days. Don't invite anyone over.”
“Am I under surveillance?”
Charlize kept staring at the ceiling. “I'm not at liberty to discuss that matter.”
“I thought we were being honest with each other.”
Charlize looked at Zinnia. She unzipped a pocket in her silver jumpsuit and reached for something. “Do you have the switchboard number for the DWM?”
“The DWM?”
Charlize winked. “DWM. It's short for Department of Water,” she lowered her voice and finished in a dramatic whisper, “and Magic.” She produced a business card and handed it over. The card looked exactly like an ordinary card for the Wisteria Department of Water, except it had the words emergency line written in red, along with a phone number.
“Department of Water and Magic,” Zinnia said, dumbfounded. That was the cover for the people in the shadows? The Department of Water? It did explain why their office operations weren't housed at City Hall along with the other municipal services.
Charlize hadn't left yet. She was looking at Zinnia closely, and her hair snakes were doing something as well. Sniffing the air.
Zinnia glanced around. “Is something wrong? I have protective wards on the house, but they're not infallible.”
“It's something else.” Charlize pointed to Zinnia's heart. “Would you
like me to help you with that?”
“With what?” Zinnia wasn't being evasive. She truly didn't understand what the blonde gorgon meant.
“Easier to show you than explain,” Charlize said. “Plus, I owe you one for fixing the burn on my tongue.” She placed her hand on Zinnia's chest, over her heart. The gorgon's hair erupted in snakes. Each snake grew, until it was three feet long, then six feet long, then the small entryway room was nothing but snakes, hissing and writhing.
The breath whooshed out of Zinnia's lungs. Up was down and down was up. Lights flickered. Zinnia felt her skin cracking, her mind melting. It was like what had happened to the paperweight mouse, except now it was happening to her. A hot wet feeling burst through Zinnia's chest, as though she was a volcano erupting.
This is how I die?
Zinnia was more than a little surprised. She'd always expected to get a psychic preview of her demise, even if it only preceded the event by two to five minutes.
Chapter 23
12:30 pm
Zinnia Riddle hadn't died. It just felt that way.
She lay on the cool tiles of her bathroom floor, curled in the fetal position. The only sound was the soothing drip-drop of a tap.
Drip-drop. Drip-drop.
She had been there a while. An hour, maybe? She should have said no to Charlize. She shouldn't have accepted the gorgon's “help.”
Drip-drop.
But the gorgon had placed her cursed hands on Zinnia's chest, and now...
Zinnia squeezed her eyes shut. In the darkness, she kept seeing the body. No. She saw Annette. No. The body. Annette's body.
In her mind's eye, the body stirred and became Annette again. She hadn't died. Not yet. She was reaching out, bloody arm trembling, reaching for Zinnia. Her big, brown eyes pleaded for help. Annette's voice came out raspy. “Help me. I don't understand what's happening. What's wrong with me?” But those weren't Annette's words; they had been Zinnia's words, long ago. From yet another time she'd been trying to forget.
Zinnia opened her eyes and stared at the edge of two planes, where the wall met the floor. She turned her head and pressed her forehead on the cool tiles. She had to get up. She had to keep moving, stop closing her eyes and seeing the body. Annette. The body. Annette's body.
Wisteria Witches Mysteries Box Set 2 Page 82