Fly By Midnight (A Sister Witches Mystery)

by Quick, Lauren

  “Sure.” He stared down at the bag. “What have you done to your wand this time?” He raised his brow with a smirk. Honora had a bad habit of losing, dropping, and breaking them. A wand was lucky to last a few months in her possession.

  “Dropped it down a drain,” she said. “I think I found blood.”

  He picked up the bag, which had a red smear on the inside. “I’ll put in a rush order. Find out anything about her husband?”

  “One minute I think Jane’s naïve, and the next I think she’s a pretty smart witch. I get the feeling I’m on a need-to-know basis, like she wants me to do the legwork and mind my own business.”

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I got nothing from the archives. Where do we go from here?”

  “I know a witch who might be able to help us. I’m going to visit an old friend to do some serious digging.”

  6

  From an early age, Honora realized that her sisters were the creative and sensitive ones in the family. They made beautiful and enchanting things like potions and stories. On the other hand, when she made anything, she usually burnt it, broke it, or shattered it into a million pieces. But she had other traits. Honora liked to think of herself as a collector of evidence, piecing together bits of information of other people’s lives to solve a puzzle, and the harder the puzzle was to solve, the better she liked it. Her current mission was to solve the puzzle of Jonathan Rainer, and she wasn’t too proud to admit she needed help. She was on a flight path to one of the more interesting areas of Stargazer City: the magic district.

  The magic district consisted of a six-block area filled with eccentric shops and businesses, some of them a little seedy, but all of them weirdly fascinating, containing the most unusual magical paraphernalia and supplies, and attracting detectives, bounty hunters, and mystics. Most respectable witches and wizards steered clear. In the early years of her career as a private investigator, Honora was too desperate for work to be respectable. Back then, her cases were tracking down skips for a local bounty hunter who took pity on her and threw her some of his overload. She would haunt the magic district, trying to learn as much as she could about the city, the police, the law, and the undercurrent of witches and wizards who worked in the shadows. If she wanted to be an investigator, she’d have to explore the good and the bad side of the witching world.

  One of her favorite shops was a dingy little place called Curious Magic, Rare Artifacts. A bloom of nostalgia formed in her heart when she pushed open the door. An enchanted saxophone and standup base played magically from a corner. The scent of sandalwood floated in the air. A magical security ward went off when she entered the shop. She had a short staff strapped to her back, but nothing alarm-worthy. The baton was much thicker than a wand, but not as unwieldy as a full-sized staff. It channeled energy and spells or, in a worst-case scenario, doubled as a club. The ward tingled as it flowed over her body, and Honora couldn’t help but giggle, drawing a disgusted glare from a wizard shopping nearby. Chill out, she thought. Sometimes magic tickles.

  At first glance, the shop looked like a dusty antique store. Wooden shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, packed with old grimoires, used wands, knobby wizard staffs, cracked crystal balls, and magical orbs of all shapes and sizes. A long, wooden table was littered with found objects like enchanted mirrors, shabby bags of chipped runes, and bowlfuls of crystals. A huge map of Everland hung on a far wall, and globes of illuma lights cast haunting shadows over the cramped shop.

  Perched on a very tall stool behind a very tall counter was a petite witch with a mane of curly gray hair. She wore a long green velvet robe and pointy, black leather high-heeled boots. January Carter had been a fixture of the magic district for at least three centuries, and her age was rumored at four hundred and thirty-seven, many of those years spent in this very shop, sifting over magical artifacts. If it happened in Everland, there was a good chance January knew all about it.

  When Honora was a newbie private investigator, she would tell January all the sordid details of whatever sorry case she was working on over a cup of dandelion tea. Usually, the cases had involved Honora chasing seedy wizards twice her size and getting banged up in the process. She’d even investigated witches and wizards trading in contraband magical devices for the council. No respectable Hexer would take such a lowly job, so the council farmed out the work.

  Hunting through the magical black market gave Honora tons of stories to tell, and January lived vicariously through the young witch’s exploits. Honora liked having a captive audience who relished her tales of adventure. Really, she’d also been looking for a motherly shoulder to lean on, and a fast friendship formed.

  “Here comes a witch to wash the boredom of the day away.” January beamed at her friend. She claimed her persuasion was a gift for locating strange and powerful magical artifacts that many considered junk. But whenever she visited the shop, Honora always found something she liked and needed desperately, and today was no different.

  Her gaze penetrated the glass-topped counter, and she spied a gorgeous six-inch blade resting innocently on a piece of red velvet. “Well, hello, my pretty. What do we have here?” Honora was instantly enamored. The handle was made of stunningly carved wood with a metal inlay, and there was an emerald stone adhered to the hilt. She practically pressed her nose to the glass, admiring the craftsmanship.

  Sensing a quick sale, January swept over, pulled the knife from the case, and handed it to Honora. “Feel the balance. It’s perfect. Made by one of Everland’s master bladesmiths.”

  The knife was even more beautiful up close. Honora wrapped her fingers around the handle. It fit perfectly in her hand. She sighed. This was why she was always short on gold, because every time she got a little cushion of money, she found something to spend it on. “I shouldn’t.” She handed the knife back to January, who refused to take it. “I owe rent in a few days, and I just got a new case. I should save my money.” Knives were her weakness.

  “I’ll give you a good price.” January’s gaze twinkled.

  “I’ll bet.” Honora rolled her eyes and set the knife on the counter. “Nope. Not going to do it.” She stared at it longingly but resisted. The last thing she needed right then was a new toy.

  “A witch like you needs protection. Your job can be dangerous.” January was laying the sales pitch on thick. “What if I threw in an incentive?” She twitched her wand and glided down a cluttered aisle, literally a foot off the floor, only to return a few minutes later. She placed an ancient crystal ball on the counter next to the knife.

  “I’ll throw this in at no charge.” January beamed. “Isn’t she a beauty?”

  The crystal ball was puny, not much bigger than an egg, and had a spiderweb crack right through the middle. Not all of January’s finds were treasures.

  Honora cringed. “I guess beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

  “I know it doesn’t look like much, but it’s a treasure. Think of it as a birthday gift from me to you, once you buy the knife.” January rolled the ball around in her knobby fingers. “I’m not even going to tell you what it does. It’ll be a surprise. But I will tell you, it’s very rare.” Her voice was rough and smoky.

  Rare didn’t always mean useful. “Looks like a broken crystal ball. And not even a full-sized one, more like the runt of the litter. What will I see when I gaze into it? The future five minutes in advance?”

  Honora and January both cackled at the joke. “Witch, you’re too much. Tell me why you really came here today. Obviously, not to shop my fine merchandise.”

  Honora climbed up on a stool and cupped her chin in her hand. “What can you tell me about the history of the witching wall?” Pleasantries were unnecessary between them, and Honora needed a productive diversion away from the shiny blade.

  “Ah, sounds like an exciting new case.” January wiggled her eyebrows at her. “Do tell. I want all the details.”

  “It’s intriguing, mysterious, and dangerous.”

 
“I am a connoisseur of intrigue. I have the nose of a bloodhound when it comes to unveiling the truth.” January tapped her long nose, where her wire-rimmed spectacles rested.

  “How does the magic of the wall work? How was it designed? Any information you have on it and the wizard who created it would be put to good use. The more clandestine, the better.”

  “No small request, little witch.” January pulled a long silver wand from her exposed ample cleavage. She had once told Honora that just because she was over four hundred years old didn’t mean she couldn’t wear the latest fashionable robes.

  “If you don’t know anything, I could take my business elsewhere.” Honora examined her ragged cuticles, feigning boredom.

  January twisted up her face in thought. She flicked her wand, levitated back onto her stool, and got comfortable. “The wall has been around for many centuries. I was a girl when it first went up. We were so proud, so excited, when the wall was ready. But over the years, it faded from our minds.” She sighed nostalgically and continued, “When Everland was originally founded, there had been no need for an official wall. There was no threat. A few wards were thrown up for precautions. Everland was a secret. No one from the Otherworld knew where it was, and for a time, no one seemed to care.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  January pointed her wand to a high shelf behind her head, and a parchment scroll floated to the counter and unwound before them. “Magic is hard to hide. A witch’s magic is pure and glowing, a beacon in a dark world.”

  “They found us.” Honora’s interest piqued.

  “Once upon a dreary day, dark times came out to play.” January tapped her long enameled fingernail on the parchment. A drawing of hunched and fanged creatures crawling across an idyllic landscape was depicted on the scroll. “Creatures of the night—ghouls, goblins, the fairies, and the wolves—found us hiding across the great divide.”

  A shiver went up Honora’s spine. She loved January’s ability to bring history to life with the sound of her voice.

  “Beings from the Otherworld made their way to our magical plane. Everland was infiltrated—not on a large scale, mind you—and Hex Division kept it very hush-hush. Some of the infiltrators were just curious, like pixies and forest nymphs, but others were less kind. Entities began wrecking havoc—ghouls, goblins, and demon attacks occurred more frequently. Ruthless creatures. It became clear a complete barrier was needed to keep the witching world safe.”

  Honora leaned forward and read a passage from the scroll. “The three mages of the inner council ordered the wall to be built, and the Otherworlders were rounded up and expelled.”

  The council consisted of two parts—an inner circle and the outer governing body. The inner circle contained three supreme witches—the mages. They stayed in solitude within a chamber and watched the crystal, surveying the world and keeping the witches safe. They were the most powerful witches in Everland. They were the watchers of the witching world. The three mages were seen only once a year at the winter solstice, to mark the end and start the new. It was a magical, merry time of celebration, but it had passed with no word from them of any looming danger.

  Honora scanned the parchment. “There aren’t a lot of details,” she observed. “I want to learn about the spellcraft involved in creating it.”

  “The magic of the wall is the greatest secret of our kind. The only ones who know for sure are the wardens who protect it. Well, and perhaps the travelers who are allowed to cross. So few have made the pilgrimage out of Everland…but you know that firsthand, my darling.” January patted Honora’s shoulder.

  The words stung. Honora’s mother was one of the witches who’d left Everland for a chance to explore the Otherworld. Elspeth Mayhem was an explorer, impossible to keep still, a gypsy witch at heart. After she’d traveled all over Everland and mapped its every nook, she grew restless, too restless to stay. Honora tried not to think about her. Her sisters had been more forgiving, more understanding, but not her. She hadn’t forgiven her mother for leaving Everland, for leaving her behind.

  Honora needed to snap out of it and focus on why she’d come to the shop. “What do you know about the wizard who invented the magical barrier?”

  “I heard that back in his day, he was a young genius wizard. The mages kept him a secret. There’s no name in the history books. He’s a mystery.”

  Honora raised a skeptical brow at her friend. No one was a total mystery. There was always a footprint, no matter how small. “Can you help me find the wardens you mentioned?”

  “The names of the wardens are sealed,” January said.

  “Tell me what you can.”

  “The magic has grown and changed over the years, needing to be reinforced. The wardens work tirelessly to maintain the magical barrier. From what I’ve heard, the Otherworlders peck at the barrier like flocks of hungry birds.”

  “Since the wall went up, have there been attacks? Ones the general public doesn’t know about? Things the council keeps to themselves?”

  “The council is secretive, dear. It has to be.”

  “I need more. This is serious.” Honora drummed her fingers on the counter, frustration building. Her old friend had never been this close-lipped before. It was like trying to pry information out of a clam.

  “Follow me. What you’re looking for is in the basement.” January threw a wool shawl over her head and wrapped it around her neck.

  “There’s a basement?” Honora asked.

  “Oh, child. There is always a basement.”

  Honora followed January through a stone archway and down a spiral stairwell into a dark, cold basement. Globes of illuma lights floated above their heads like distant moons. “You don’t have any creatures down here, do you?” Honora asked, rubbing her arms to stay warm.

  January stopped in the middle of the room and pulled out her wand. She made swirling movements, whispered a spell, and the floor began to rumble. Honora took a step back as an elaborately carved column rose to waist height. January opened a hidden panel, pulled out a book, and wiped a film of dust from the cover. The book was thick, the cover cracked green leather, imbedded with a silver seal.

  Honora sighed, slightly disappointed. “A book?”

  “Not just any book. I think you’ll like this one.” January handed it to her. “This is what you came here for.”

  “The Manual of Protection,” Honora read the title aloud. She could hardly believe what she was holding. She flipped through the pages. “The warden’s code—a book of wardens and their ways! You had it all along.” She glanced over a vast collection of magical spells used by the wardens. “How did you get this? No offense, but I’m surprised the council would let this book out of its sight, and especially into the public.”

  “Technically, the basement isn’t open to the public. Not many witches get to see down here,” January said. “Plus, after that incident two and a half centuries ago with the dragon and losing so many of my precious artifacts to the fire breathed by those ruthless beasts, I realized it’s always prudent to protect my most important items.”

  “Makes sense,” Honora said.

  January grabbed her arm, twisting her jacket tightly. “Whatever you’re up to, you can’t let them get through. What’s out there is too terrible to imagine. Whatever’s brought you here, you have to stop it, before it’s too late.”

  “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. I’ve got this.” Honora fell back on bravado whenever she wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. The simple missing person’s case was turning darker by the second. She curled up in an old worn armchair, tucking her legs under her.

  January draped a knitted throw over the younger witch’s lap and pointed her wand at a small stone fireplace, which erupted in a blazing fire. “It gets a little chilly down here. Take your time, and I’ll be upstairs if you need me. I hope the book serves you well.”

  Honora read through the pages, trying to understand the witches and wizards who dedicated their lives to protecting the
witching world. She, like most witches, took her safety for granted. There were dangers in Everland, like in all societies; dark and light were essential, keeping balance, but she hadn’t realized the dangers that existed on the other side of the wall.

  A few months ago, she and her sisters used an old family heirloom, a scrying mirror, to spy on a dark wizard called the Darklander, who lived out in the Dire Woods. He supported an underground faction of wizards who wanted to reunite the witching and Otherworld. Some of the Darklander’s followers even used magic to physically transform their appearance with traits of Otherworldly creatures. Could his minions be helping the creatures of the Otherworld bring down the wall?

  The magical spells in The Manual of Protection were advanced, even completely foreign, to her. The pages were filled with spells to repel any magical creature she could think of, from keeping flying beasts like dragons and raptors at bay to avoiding an infestation of vampires to warding off a traveling pack of werewolves. There were guards against ghouls and goblins and repellants for trolls, ogres, and every kind of woodland spirit.

  From what Honora could glean from the book, four wardens were on duty at all times, but their ranks were many. One was stationed at each direction of the compass—north, south, east, and west—plus another stationed at the center, called the inventor. The exact locations were not listed. It also didn’t indicate how many wardens there were in total, but she assumed there had to be dozens.

  Talk about a secret society. The wardens were the biggest deterrent to an invasion of Everland. The idea of creatures chipping away at the wall, trying to break into their world, both frightened and angered Honora. Was their way of life so fragile? A dull ache was forming behind her eyes. She had to get out of the basement, get some fresh air, and clear her head.