by Kathy Dexter
“You came to Mystic Lake. A witness to the deaths of our parents. Maybe the killer thought you’d started to remember.”
Sounded plausible. “I have to translate Mary Hawthorne’s grimoire and find a way to put an end to the curse.” Find out who killed my parents. Who wants me dead.
Perhaps you already have the ability to do that. After all, you recognized me.
“The moment I saw your face, a memory awakened, and your name whispered through the curtain.”
“So the strength of the spell––the curtain––is wavering. You must have the key to destroy it.”
“I’ve tried. Clarissa’s charmed apples, Riley’s white dragon, the sapphire amulet. Nothing’s worked.”
“Something’s holding you back.”
Hunter sighed. Had she really fought as hard as possible to remember?
A knock startled them.
“I’ll get it.” Hunter jumped up and moved to the back door. “Riley! Come in. Where’s Clarissa? Is Reenie okay?”
“We managed to remove the poison, but Gran will stay a little longer to make sure Reenie recovers fully. I told Gran I’d stop by to fill you in.”
You know my sister Kat?”
“We’ve never met.” Riley shook hands.
Hunter was surprised. “But she’s been living with your father. Our uncle, Gideon Sloane.”
“I haven’t seen my father since he disappeared when I was ten.” Riley lightly touched Kat on the shoulder. “I’ve heard he can be tough, particularly where magic is concerned. I’m sorry I didn’t know, or I would have reached out.”
“I managed to keep most of my powers hidden, so he didn’t bother me too much.” Something shivered in Kat’s eyes.
“Pretended not to have any? Me, too. My mother said if I became a Middling, my father wouldn’t try to siphon my magic.”
Hunter sucked in a deep breath. “How did he expect to do that?”
“That’s what the Gyld would like to know.” Riley eyed Kat. “Any ideas?”
“I’ve heard Hunter and I might be the key, but I couldn’t discover what that meant before I got out.” Kat turned her attention to Hunter. “Perhaps another reason why you’ve been cursed. To exert control over your mind until your magic can be tapped.”
The room tipped a little. Hunter wasn’t sure how to handle this. But then she realized she had another weapon. “Mary Hawthorne’s grimoire might tell us more. Remember how you hid the books in the museum paintings? Can you give me the counterspell that would release one of them?”
“Practicing, eh? Paper and pen?” When she’d been handed the items, Riley wrote the words needed.
“Have some tea while I get the book.” Hunter dashed upstairs to her bedroom and faced the artwork Lexa Winters had painted for the book signing.
A flutter of nerves prickled along Hunter’s skin. She thought she’d been clever to hide the book in the poster, using the spell Riley had chanted in the library, but what if she couldn’t get the journal out? How would the Ancients, who expected her to translate the grimoire, feel about that? What if the book was trapped in the poster forever?
Sweat dampened her shirt, gathered along her neck and across her cheeks. She raised her amulet and recited the words Riley had written:
Relic from the olden times,
Charmed by age-old hallowed rhymes,
Dragon light will set you free,
Shed your mask and come to me.
A blue incandescence streamed from the amulet and surrounded the poster. A small, glimmering rectangle popped off Henry’s scaly tail with a sudden snap, broadened and lengthened until it was full size, then floated through the air to Hunter’s waiting hand.
Relieved, Hunter clutched the grimoire and sprinted down the stairs to the living room.
She directed the other two to join her in front of the magic mirror. “I think this is the key to translating the grimoire.”
“The mirror?” Riley stared at her. “I suspected you might find it had more magical properties, but how could it be connected to Mary’s grimoire? Uncle Gabriel made it long after Mary’s death.”
“Perhaps any reflective surface would do,” Hunter said. “But magic could only increase the ability to follow Mary’s directions.”
Hunter recited the riddle she and the others had decoded:
False face betrayal breeds
False heart dark evil feeds
Remove the mask of deception
Seek the meaning in reflection
Right is left
Left is right
Find the spell
To cast the light.
“The image reverses.” Riley held up her left arm, which became her right in the mirror.
Hunter opened the book to the first page.
Kat glanced at the writing. “Looks like gibberish.”
“The language of the Ancients,” Riley said.
Hunter turned the book around so the writing reflected in the looking glass.
“Still gibberish,” Kat said. “And what about the false face and betrayal? Too cryptic.”
The letters squiggled across the page and rearranged themselves. The grimoire pulsated in Hunter’s hands as the words whispered their meaning to her. Flabbergasted, she jumped in momentary alarm and almost dropped the book. She held her breath and flipped more pages. The same magical whispering recurred. The Ancients connecting? Hunter stuttered a bit, “I c-can read it.”
“How is that possible?” Kat stared at the handwritten words. “Still looks like a child’s scrawl.”
The phone rang. Another interruption.
“Grrr.” Hunter almost let the machine pick up.
Her sapphire dragon hummed against her chest. It linked internally, urging her to answer. Hand shaking, Hunter picked up.
“Theo?” How wonderful to hear from him. She’d meant to call after the book signing fiasco. Too many new emergencies. A distressed note in his voice caught her attention. “What’s wrong?” She listened without interrupting. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
She hung up and turned to the others. “Theo’s mother is in trouble. We have to hurry.”
Riley put up a hand. “I’ll get us there faster than a car.”
“What about the grimoire?”
“Bring it with you,” Riley said. “You might have to use it.”
“How? It’s too unwieldy to carry or fit into a pocket.”
“Mind link. That’s what I did with the grimoire I rescued. Tell it what size you want it to be.”
Link with a book? Hunter shook her head to clear the confusion. Might as well give it a try. She concentrated on the thick volume. Shrink. Pocket-sized.
A red shimmer enveloped the book and compressed it to the size of a small wallet.
Hunter’s mouth dropped open, but she clamped it shut and stuffed the grimoire in her back pocket.
Riley grabbed Hunter and Kat. “Okay, now both of you hold hands with each other and me. We’ll transaura migrate.”
“What’s that?” Hunter asked.
“Picture the West house and reach into your inner core where magic exists,” Riley commanded.
“Wait! My bag.” Kat snatched it from the coffee table and slung it over her shoulder.
The three of them formed a circle. Hunter’s inner core thrummed with odd rhythms.
The air billowed like ocean waves, surging vertically instead of horizontally. Walls oscillated and ribbons of colors rushed past them.
They swooshed through space faster than light and sound.
CHAPTER 36
L OGAN EYEBALLED THE SCATTERED pieces cluttering the desk. Not Sergeant Mack’s usual tidy organization, but Logan had requested a rush job and the sergeant came through in record time. Not only had he tracked down the license plate number for Paul Fleming’s custom sports car, but he’d also discovered the good doctor had at least twenty unpaid parking and speeding tickets.
Logan phoned the Museum of Magic, connected to Lexa Winter
s, and asked if she had any pictures of Fleming from the night of the Masquerade Ball. The police files contained nothing current.
In ten minutes, she called him back. “Our photographer had two clear pictures of the doctor after he removed his costume. I’ve emailed them to you.”
Logan gave a low whistle. “Mighty fast. I’m impressed.”
“Not that good with the search function on your computer, Logan?” Laughter trickled through the line. “You better sharpen your tech skills if you’re going to keep up.”
“Calling me an old fogey?”
“You’re dating yourself with that term, old-timer.”
“Keep it up and I’ll shake my cane at you, missy. Thanks for your help, Lexa. I appreciate it.”
After disconnecting, Logan downloaded the photos and selected one to send out with a BOLO alert to all area law enforcement. Hopefully, someone would spot the car or its owner in short order.
What if Fleming had ditched his car and gone into hiding? Logan tapped a pencil against his jaw. Reenie might know where he would hole up, but would her husband allow her to be questioned? Nope.
Maybe Fleming’s bank account or credit card details could lead to his location.
Logan looked around the squad room for someone he could trust to be discreet. What if information turned up involving Reenie? A subordinate might find it prudent to immediately report to the chief. Would Stoner then interfere in the investigation in order to protect his wife? It bothered Logan that he doubted his boss’s integrity. On the other hand, better not take chances. He called Lou McDonald.
“Yeah, I got resources. Probably have some info for you in a coupla hours.” Lou spoke after a brief pause. “Might be faster if the police used their authority to get the records.”
“You’ll be more discreet.”
Silence tingled along the airwaves. Lou finally spoke. “You gotta leak in your department?”
“I don’t know. But Reenie Stoner is too wrapped up in the investigation.”
“Gotcha.” Lou hung up.
Logan had another possible source. A difficult one to crack. He had to try.
* * *
Logan knocked. Several minutes passed before anyone answered.
“What are you doing here, Logan?” Eyes twitching, Sylvia wrung her hands as though trying to clean off dirt.
Her obvious physical and mental distress was going to make it difficult to get her to talk, especially after what happened at the book signing. “You're in trouble.”
“Am I under arrest?” Her eyes were large saucers, mostly white with pinpricks of color in the middle, like those of a frantic animal caught in a trap. She trembled all over, teeth chattering. “You want to be rid of me, out of this family, away from everyone I love. I'm doomed.”
How could he convince her she was wrong? He led her gently to the overstuffed sofa with her favorite flower pattern. “I'll fix you some tea.”
Before long, the kettle whistled, and Logan brought two full mugs to the living room, an enticing aroma floating around them. “Drink this. It will warm you.”
“No good. Go away.” Her head swiveled from side to side, pupils dilated. Her behavior grew more disoriented, more disturbing.
“Have you taken anything, Sylvia?”
“Did you spike the tea?” She knocked the mug from his hand, and the ceramic shattered on the wooden floor.
Theo’s sad little voice sighed. “I made that cup specially for you.”
“Theo!” Sylvia staggered to her feet, her rose-patterned dress now splattered with tea stains. She stumbled toward her son, who stood in the hallway, and enfolded him in her arms.
“It’s okay, Mom.” He brought her back to the sofa and sat next to her, holding her hand.
Sylvia eyes abruptly shifted to the ceramic chards lying haphazardly on her usually neat-as-a-pin floor. “Oh, Theo, I loved that mug!” She dropped to her knees, scrabbling to pick up the shards. “Ow!” She sucked her thumb where a razor-sharp fragment had pierced the skin.
“Let me see.” When Logan tried to help her, she scurried away.
Theo knelt next to her and took the injured thumb in his hand. His touch soon healed her superficial wound. He hopped up to collect the broom and dust pan, then swept away the mess. Logan followed with a mop and sopped up the spilled tea.
Sylvia hadn't stirred from the floor, continuing to stare at the thumb. It had stopped bleeding and appeared smooth and untouched. She searched her entire hand. “No cut?”
“It's Theo's special gift,” Logan reminded her.
“No!” she cried. “You've got to make him stop using magic before he gets hurt.”
Logan managed to help her back to the sofa once more. “He's a good boy, Sylvia. You've raised him well. He only wants to help people.”
She began choking and clutched her throat.
Logan sat her up to ease the spasm. Sweat soaked the back of her dress. “You're not well. Let me call a doctor.”
“No! He's ruined me, led me down a dark path until I couldn’t think straight.”
“Dr. Fleming?”
“Yes.” Sylvia bent over the side of the couch and threw up on the floor.
She’d lied to Logan about not taking anything. “Did he bring you medicine today?”
Her pupils had cleared somewhat, but clouds of darkness swept across her face, and pain etched the corners of her eyes. “Help me,” she groaned.
Theo moved toward her, but Logan pulled him back. “I’ll take care of her. Call 911. She may have ingested poison.”
Theo hurried to the phone. He made a second call as well.
Only moments had passed when Hunter appeared at the door with Riley and a young woman with curly black hair and odd-colored eyes.
“How did you get here so fast?” Theo cried.
“Transaura migration,” Riley said.
Hunter made a quick introduction of her sister before the three crossed to the sofa and checked Sylvia’s condition.
Kat slipped the thin cord of a black pouch off one shoulder, opened it and removed several candles and crystals. “Where can I put these?”
“How about here?” Theo cleared off a side table.
“That will work,” Riley said. “But it has to be washed with salt water.”
While Logan assisted with that, Hunter and Riley made sure Sylvia lay prone. As they passed their amulets over her body, white and sapphire beams intertwined like thin ropes and raised her a couple of feet. She hovered in the air.
When Logan finished with the table, Kat placed three candles there––purple, blue and white––in a triangular pattern. Then she distributed three crystals, one in front of each candle. She signaled to Hunter, who used her amulet to light the wicks. Kat sang an oddly-lilting, bewitching melody, the words from an ancient dialect Logan didn’t recognize.
No one moved, as though frozen in place. Candle flames danced and crisscrossed, exhaling rainbow colors, which glowed against the crystals. Kat gathered the three translucent gems and placed them on Sylvia, one on her temple, the second on her chest and the third on her stomach.
The crystals pulsed in tempo with Sylvia’s breathing. Soon a black substance oozed out of her pores and into the gems.
Kat altered the song’s pattern. The almost-seductive, mesmerizing melody quickened, accelerated, and whirled around the room. The crystals snapped and popped.
“Use your amulets,” Kat wheezed.
Hunter and Riley aimed their dragon pendants and released their powers. Each stone exploded, evaporating the black poison which had once inhabited Sylvia’s body. The lattice of dragon energy lowered her to the sofa and dissolved.
Riley pressed the back of her hand against Sylvia’s forehead. “Ah! The magic’s working.”
Theo ran forward and wrapped his arms around his mother. “Wake up,” he cried.
Sylvia’s eyelids fluttered open. She smiled at her son. “Theo.” She blinked and sat up. Her voice rose a couple of octaves. “What happen
ed?”
“These women saved your life,” Logan said. “What did Fleming give you?”
Sylvia opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
Hunter held up her sapphire dragon. A blue beam streaked down the hallway. She followed the light, stopped midway, and turned to Theo. “You can help.”
Theo looked at his mother.
Face pale, she nodded.
He took Hunter’s arm and led her toward the back bedroom. They soon returned with two unmarked bottles. Theo handed them to Logan.
After dropping them in his pocket, Logan bent down to Sylvia. “The same medication poisoned Reenie Stoner.”
Her voice cracked. “Is she okay?”
“In the hospital. We found her in time.”
Sylvia grasped his shirt front, her voice hoarse. “Dr. Fleming wanted to kill us? Why?”
“Getting rid of accomplices who might testify against him.” Logan’s voice was grim. “Like Dave Jones.”
“Paul poisoned him, too?” Sylvia’s hands shook. She pressed them against her face and sobbed.
“He was blown up in his garage,” Logan said.
Riley sat next to Sylvia and lifted her hands from her face. “It's not magic that’s evil; only the blackness in human souls. You allowed such people to cloud your judgment.”
“If it hadn’t been for the magic we used,” Hunter added, “Dr. Fleming would’ve disposed of you as a witness to his crimes.”
Tears streaming, Sylvia leaned against Riley. “I've been such a fool.” She reached out a hand to her son. “Forgive me, Theo. I was wrong to believe you should not use your gift.”
Theo’s eyes glistened. He kissed his mother on the cheek.
Sylvia turned to Logan. “Stop that awful doctor before he kills anyone else.”
“Do you have any idea where he is?” Logan asked. “Some place he might hide out?”
“Ask Miranda Hawthorne. They’ve been friends a long time.”
The whine of sirens pierced the air outside. Paramedics hustled in, gathered Sylvia’s vitals and prepared her for transport to the hospital. Logan gave the pills to the medical team; they bundled their patient in the ambulance. Sirens screamed as they rushed from the driveway.