by Kathy Dexter
“You don't dare!” Reenie sneered. “My husband will put a stop to this.”
“What wickedness haunts you, woman?” Chief Stoner stood behind his wife. He’d arrived on the scene with additional men.
She whipped around. “Clint! You can't let them do this!”
“I will do what’s necessary to protect the citizens of this city. Particularly the young and innocent.” Stoner’s eyes hardened to gray steel. “Are you still so jealous of women who can bear children that you would harm their babes? Some time in jail should give you a chance to think about what you’ve done.” He turned on his heel as a patrolman led her away, still calling her husband’s name.
Face rigid, eyes burning, Stoner stood before Logan. “This could have been a disaster if any of the kids had been hurt. Glad you were here.” He walked away without another word.
Logan stared after him for a moment, then shifted his attention to Sylvia.
Her gaze fixated on her approaching husband.
Ben’s voice grated. “You put our son in danger.”
The anger on his face deflated her like a popped balloon. She put up her hands as if to defend herself. “I tried to save him,” she cried.
“From what, Mom?” Tears spilled down Theo’s cheeks. “Magic is a part of me. Like an arm or a leg.”
“There must be a way to cure you!” Sylvia reached for him.
Ben directed Theo to sit with Clarissa on the museum steps. Once his son was out of hearing, Ben moved closer to Sylvia, still keeping his voice low. “Like when you strangled him? If Hunter hadn’t saved him with her magic, Theo would be dead.” His voice trembled. “Is that how you’ll remove the blessing of the Ancient Ones from that innocent child? By killing him?”
“This is all her fault!” Sylvia screeched, a dark look aimed in Hunter’s direction.
Logan leaned down until Sylvia had nowhere to look but into his eyes. “So you planned to murder Hunter in order to prevent her from influencing Theo.”
“What?!” Sylvia’s eyes goggled. “We just wanted to scare her. Keep her and her ideas away from our children.”
“Dave Jones tell you that?” Logan asked through tight lips. “He forget to mention the knife he brought to your little demonstration? His scheme to stab Hunter while you and your buddies distracted the crowd with your book burning?”
Sylvia sobbed, “No, no, no! You’re lying.”
Ben shook his head. “Your delusions have allowed evil people to creep into our town. To hurt good people and children.” He swiveled away from her and headed toward Theo.
“What about me?” Sylvia wailed.
Ben didn’t look back. When he neared the museum steps, he held out a hand to Theo. The boy glanced toward his mother, his eyes round saucers. He shuffled to his father. Ben placed a hand on his son’s head and guided him toward the gate.
“Don't leave me.” Sylvia's words drifted forlornly on the whispering winds.
CHAPTER 27
T HE HOT WATER SLOSHED over Hunter’s head and drenched her entire body until the shivering stopped. Her head pounded with the same agonizing spasms she’d suffered those nights in the hospital after her parents’ deaths.
The man with the cobweb tattoo tried to kill her. She'd read that intent in his eyes.
But what possible motive could he have?
Surely not to rid the world of an innocuous author who’d written a fairy tale about a flying blue dragon and a magical princess. Although the protestors had given that impression. And the police probably would’ve chalked up her death to an out-of-control mob. Why look for a more sinister reason?
Was it because she’d stopped him from robbing the museum? Again, why kill her? She’d only seen his tattoo, not his face.
At least the police arrested Jones, but what if he weren’t the only one out to kill her? What about the other protestors? Or the men who’d attacked the cottage? Did any of them want her dead, too? Could she still be a target?
Would children be terrorized again so that a murderer could do his job? Guilt swarmed like buzzing bees. The pain shifted from her head to her stomach. She barely made it to the toilet in time, upchucking what little food remained in her stomach from breakfast. She used a washcloth to mop up some splotches around her face, toweled herself dry and hurried into the bedroom to pull on black slacks and a white t-shirt. She sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, hands over her face as though she could block out the horrible memories of what happened––what could have happened.
A flash of light made her blink, brought her out of her stupor.
The mirror.
She’d brought it upstairs last night before going to bed. If bells sounded from the shields the Gyld installed to protect the cottage, she wanted to be able to hear them, to wake up in time.
The mirror’s glass sparkled crystal clear, reflecting a young woman with troubled blue eyes and damp, tousled red-gold hair. Hunter drifted across the room, drawn to the flickering light and her own image. She'd forgotten about the scratches on her neck from when Jones tried to rip the pendant’s chain from her. He must have known its importance. Otherwise, why snatch it? Hunter stroked the raised welt, her mind whirling. He could have taken the amulet without killing her. Or were there other reasons someone wanted her dead?
To keep her from remembering the past?
The enchantment had begun to slip. Did the one who’d cast the spell know that? And now tried to stop her before she recovered her memories?
For a moment the room tilted, and the glass in the mirror rippled. Hunter’s image shimmered and shifted. Another face overlapped hers, similar bone structure but curly black hair instead of red. Aunt Miranda? Same features, but crystal blue eyes instead of her aunt’s emerald green ones.
Her deceased twin sister Meredith.
A ghost.
“Mother?” Hunter whispered, unbelieving, yet knowing that was the woman who smiled from the looking glass. Aunt Miranda shared pictures of her and her sister growing up, asking Hunter if she remembered her mother. Hunter couldn’t. But the image in the photos matched the woman in the mirror
The familiar face faded, leaving Hunter staring once more at her own reflection. “Come back.” Had she uttered the words out loud or only silently called to a memory deep within her soul?
Surely she imagined the eerie apparition of her mother, giving into hysteria after the horror at the museum. Someone murdered Meredith long ago. Hunter blinked. Was this the same woman she’d seen last night near the woods? Same black, curly hair. Too far away to be sure of facial features.
If both visions had been Meredith, why had she waited until now to materialize?
To save her daughter? How was that possible?
Stop playing the victim and save yourself. She wasn't Cinderella, hoping for the prince to rescue her. More like Snow White, unable to wake up from a spell cast by an enemy in the shadows.
The curtain in her mind fluttered and swayed. Glimpses of light glimmered through the darkness binding her memories. Come on! See what's there! Hunter strained mightily to shake the curtain free, expose the wizard who manipulated the strings. Something deep inside tried to rise out of the shrouded past into the bright light of day.
If she kept digging, she could die. Like her mother. And if Hunter didn't unearth the truth of what happened, she could be killed anyway, going to her grave not knowing why.
Hunter had created a fictional character with the courage to fight evil forces. About time the author stopped quaking in fear and borrowed some of Syrena’s fearlessness and faced her own demons. If she was going down, better to cross swords than cower in the shadows.
Hunter’s headache disappeared. She took one last look in the mirror. Maybe it was only a trick of light and angles, but her reflection seemed to have changed. Her spine stiffened, and her eyes flashed with fiery spirit.
She grabbed her grandmother's journal and practically bounced down the stairs. Time to decipher Mary’s code and get rid of the spell.
Then she’d know her enemy.
She stopped short when she entered the crowded living room. Lou, Finn, and Ally sat chatting, eating sandwiches, and drinking iced tea and lemonade. The posters from the book signing leaned against a wall.
“These seem intact.” Hunter fingered the intricate wood of the frames.
“Isn’t that wonderful?” Ally said. “Lexa brought them to me after I changed out of my costume. She wondered if you might like these as souvenirs.”
“Of course! They’re marvelous and will be a great addition to the book tour. But we have to pay her.”
“I knew you’d say that.” Ally grinned. “I gave her a generous check. And I’ve lined her up to do the cover art for your next book.”
“Perfect.” Hunter's stomach growled. “Any food left for me?”
Ally handed her a tempting plate of goodies. “Join the party.”
“What are we celebrating?”
“Defeating the bad guys.” Ally raised a fist in triumph.
“Temporary.” Lou finished the last bite of his roast beef sandwich.
Ally lowered her arm. “Really?”
“The protest march was a setup. To get to me.” Despite hunger nibbling her, Hunter fiddled with her food.
“To. . .hurt you?” Ally choked on the words.
“'Fraid so,” Lou mumbled through a mouthful of apple pie. “Their leader tried to use a knife. Logan put a dent in that plan.”
Ally leaped from the couch and put her arms around Hunter. “Are you sure you're okay?” She eyed the scratches on Hunter's neck and squeaked, “Are those from the knife?”
Hunter hugged Ally in return. “No. Jones tried to take my amulet.”
Ally's eyes narrowed. “He knows what it can do?”
Hunter glanced at Lou. “I think so. Why else would he grab it?”
“You stopped him?”
“She did a pretty good job gouging his neck,” Lou said. “And he’ll have a burn on his palm which will permanently remind him of the blue dragon.”
“At least Logan arrested him,” Ally said. “Hunter’s safe now.”
A look passed between Lou and Finn.
Ally’s eyes rounded with fear. “She’s not?”
“Too many attacks against her, don’t you think?” Finn said mildly. “Not just at the museum, but also at the cottage.”
“I’m a target.” Fear gripped Hunter. “And those near me could be hurt. Like the children this morning.”
Ally plopped on the couch next to Finn. His arm wound around her shoulders, and he squeezed gently. Frowning, she tried to push him away. “You guys are taking a couple of events and giving them too much significance.”
“Might seem like we’re blowing things way out of proportion, Miss Ally,” Lou’s forehead furrowed. “But we have inside information that Jones was hired to murder Hunter. With him in jail, his employer will simply send someone else to finish the job.”
Ally slapped a hand on her knee. “Logan has to make that nasty man talk. Find out who’s plotting against Hunter and put him in jail, too.”
“That may take some time,” Lou said.
“What about police protection until then?” Ally demanded.
“Chief Stoner has no evidence that anyone else is after Hunter.” Lou took a long swallow of coffee. “He believes with Jones in jail, she’s safe.”
Ally’s fists tightened. “But you said you have inside information.”
“Hard for a civilian to understand.” Lou leaned back in his chair. “We can’t give Stoner the name of the informant and endanger our source. A source still undercover and providing invaluable intelligence.”
“So how do we protect Hunter?” Ally wanted to know.
“You have to return to the city,” Hunter said firmly. “Anyone close to me could get hurt.”
“Collateral damage,” Lou murmured.
Ally stuck out her chin. “I'm not going anywhere.”
“You're not in this alone, Hunter.” Finn told her. “Can we be less brave than the children who ran to protect you? Their courage taught us all an important lesson. Wickedness will only spread if we don't wipe it out. Otherwise, none of us will survive its darkness.” He grinned. “My soapbox moment.”
Ally got up. “I'll get more coffee. We have plans to make, options to explore.”
“But. . .” Hunter couldn’t let them be part of her danger. It wasn’t fair.
Chin up, Ally flipped a loose strand of dark brown hair behind her ear and headed to the kitchen. “No buts. I’m not leaving.”
“I’ll be remaining on guard duty as well.” Lou lifted a folded paper from his shirt pocket and spread it open on the coffee table. “Maybe deciphering your grandmother’s code can help us. I’ve got some of the letters figured out. We might get the rest done if we collaborate.”
Finn pulled up a chair. “Code?”
“Mary Hawthorne’s journal contains personal magic spells,” Hunter said. “If I can access them, I might be able to get my memories back. Perhaps that will tell us who wants me dead.” Should she warn them that as a grimoire, the book contained sacred writings of the Ancients? Magic that could become a terrible weapon.
Hunter picked up the worn, leather bound journal and stared at it. Could this possibly be connected to the attacks against her?
CHAPTER 28
H UNTER’S FINGERS SHOOK a little as she smoothed imaginary crinkles from Mary Hawthorne’s journal. “Do you know anything about grimoires, Lou?”
Lou’s brows scrunched downward, eyelids narrowed to slits. “Is your grandmother’s journal a grimoire?”
“Maybe.” Hunter tightened her grip. The burden of guarding this little volume weighed deeply. “We have to figure out the language first.”
Ally had switched from iced tea to coffee and brought filled cups for everyone else, as well as sugar and cream. “What’s a grimoire?”
“A book of magic,” Finn explained.
Ally sat next to him. “Like a magician’s directions on how to perform tricks?”
Lou’s eyes sparkled. “That’s how I woulda described it before movin’ to Mystic Lake, Miss Ally.”
“My grandmother’s journal contains spells, Ally. Supposedly handed down from her ancestors. This book could be dangerous.”
Ally’s attentive gaze pivoted to Hunter. “How?”
“First, we have people who’ve tried to steal it. They could come after it again,” Hunter warned. “And if we do manage to translate what’s in it, we could be tangling with mystical powers we don’t know how to handle.”
“The Gyld could control them,” Finn said.
“The Gyld?” Ally asked.
“My employers,” Lou said. “They hired me to guard the cottage at night.”
Ally had been a loyal friend, willing to risk a great deal. She deserved to know more. “The Gyld provides protection in Mystic Lake for those with magic like mine,” Hunter said. “And safeguards the secrets of their mystical ancestors.”
“Yowza!” Ally said. “So why not give the book to the Gyld?”
Hunter’s smile was lopsided. “Apparently, I’ve been designated to open the grimoire’s secrets if I want to know about my past.”
“The Gyld told you that?” Finn asked.
“My cousin Riley did.” Hunter hadn’t had much time to talk to Ally about this new relative.
Finn rubbed his jaw. “Couldn’t Riley use her magic to help you remember?”
“She tried.” Hunter fiddled with her amulet. “And failed.”
“What kind of magic did she use?” Finn asked.
“Are you looking for a story for that paper of yours?” Ally demanded.
Finn tweaked her nose. “I’m here to help both of you. Besides, I’m well aware of the paranormal abilities of our residents. Including Riley.”
“Who has an extraordinary dragon like yours,” Lou said to Hunter. “Only white.”
She remembered how the two dragons had worked together to protect the bo
oks. Maybe she could protect the grimoire the same way. “Unfortunately, neither of the dragons could help me. Riley wants to stop by and try again. In the meantime, how am I supposed to read this?” She opened to the beginning pages, turned the journal and held it toward them so they could see.
Finn tilted his head. “Looks like a foreign language.”
“Gobbledygook.” Ally peered closer. “No wonder you’ve had trouble deciphering her handwriting.”
“If the journal is really an ancient language of the ancestors of Mystic Lake, Mary Hawthorne’s coded message might give us the key that could translate it.” Hunter tapped the paper Lou had spread open on the coffee table.
Lou grinned. “Then it’s a good thing I’ve managed to decipher a few words.”
“I’ll make some copies.” Ally picked up the sheet with two fingers, as though her touch might cause it to disintegrate.
“That’s not the original.” Hunter smothered a bubble of laughter. “You won’t harm it.”
Ally stuck out her tongue and dashed upstairs. In a few moments she returned with several duplicates as well as pencils. “Okay, Lou, explain how this works.”
“Mary Hawthorne used a mix of letters and numbers to create her secret message. I started with the smallest combinations.” He pointed to those with two and three figures. “This seemed to make the most sense so far if you assume that x23 is ‘the.’”
e e t ee
6mhv3 6mt3 j3x4m7mh j433pv
e e t e ee
6mhv3 23m4x pm4a 3srh 633pv
e o e the o e e t o
43w8s3 x23 wmva 86 p3t3nxr8d
ee the e e e t o
v33a x23 w3mdrde rd 436h3txr8d
t e t
4re2x rv h36x
e t t
h36x rv 4re2x
the e
6rdp x23 vn3hh
to t the t
x8 tmvx x23 hre2x
Lou continued, “Once I did that, the two-letter word in the last line had to be ‘to.’ Let’s see what other letters might work with the rest of her cryptogram.”
Hunter stared at what he’d accomplished. “Looks like a few words repeat. And most importantly, the end words in the first four lines appear to have similar sounds. Perhaps rhyme as a spell would?”