Spooky Moves: Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Harper “Foxxy” Beck Series Book 8)

by Raven Snow

  I pushed the power away, and the strength left my body. Feeling like I’d just come off a bender, I stayed upright through sheer force of will. My nose was bled freely, my brain feeling like melted goop. Wyatt ripped a piece of cloth from his shirt and held it to my nose.

  “Wasn’t that entertaining,” G.T. said, flashing down to leer at us. “I was hoping you’d over tax yourself and save me the trouble of killing you.”

  “It was entertaining watching your mother disappear forever?” Wyatt growled.

  “Mommy issues,” I stage whispered to him.

  The look G.T. gave me could’ve peeled paint off the side of a barn. His voice when he spoke, though, was pure silk. “What was entertaining was watching you throw away the magic you needed to defeat me.” He clucked his tongue. “Someone needs to teach you control.”

  “Suppose we’ll just have to find another way,” I said calmly, not giving away how bone tired I was or how worried.

  He continued in a darker voice as if I hadn’t spoken. “What you did to my mother…well, I’ll have eons to pay you back for that. She was the one that honed my powers, did you know? Took me to morgues on special field trips.”

  “Mom of the year.”

  He didn’t like that. “Enough talking.”

  Wyatt and I were thrown backwards, smashing into the large oak doors. The collision knocked Wyatt’s hand away from my nose, and blood started pouring again. Too much of it got into my mouth, and I gagged slightly.

  “Throw us against walls all you want,” I croaked. “It’s not quite the same as killing us with your own bare hands, is it?”

  Wyatt shot me a surprised look, but I couldn’t let him in on my plan then. My eyes locked in a battle with G.T.

  I was desperately low on power, but if I could just touch G.T. when he was corporeal, we had a shot. After all, Tom, who had been partially touchable, had been the easiest to get rid of. I barely worked up a sweat.

  G.T. was tempted. I could tell by the intensity in his eyes. Just as I thought he was going to take the bait, he drew back, chuckling like a snide little boy. On a pudgy, old man with yellowing teeth and eyes, it was a disturbing sound. Especially when it came from an enemy.

  “A tempting offer,” he said. “But I prefer to watch.”

  A gunshot rang out, hitting the space just above my head. I dove out of the way before the second one came, lunging into Wyatt’s lap. It was one of my designated safe places, but this time it did little to stop my shaking. We tried to get up and run for it, but G.T. made a downward motion, and we were pushed roughly back to the floor.

  The shooter came around the corner, revealing herself. It was Fate, and she was apparently a terrible shot. Once I got a good look at her though, the reason Fate couldn’t hit us at such short range was immediately clear; she was shaking so badly she could barely keep her hands on the gun.

  “Don’t do this, Fate,” I said, wondering if I was wasting my breath.

  She nodded towards G.T. “He told me if I killed you, he’d let me live.”

  So she was stupid as well as fashionably challenged. Resisting the urge to bang my head against the wall in frustration, I gathered myself up, preparing myself to reason with her.

  “And what kind of life will you have, Fate?” Wyatt asked. “You’ll have killed two innocent people. If the law doesn’t catch up to you, your conscious will. Believe me.”

  She shook her head seeming to fight back tears. “I can’t die here like this.” Her voice broke on the last words, but I was having a lot of trouble working up sympathy for her. It was probably the gun she had pointing at my face.

  “Don’t be a fool, Fate,” I said. “Do you think he’s actually going to let you go?”

  G.T. grinned from ear to ear behind Fate’s back. “Now now, don’t go filling the girl’s head with lies. I’m a man of my word.” Fate turned to look at him, and he met her gaze. “If you kill them you’ll be free. That’s a promise.”

  Fate raised the gun again, pointing it right at us. Wyatt moved to put his body in front of mine but weak as I was, I wouldn't let him. I spread my arms out to cover him, using just a bit of my leftover magic to keep him in place. The small effort almost shoved me into unconsciousness, but we had to think about Cooper. He'd already lost one parent, and I wasn't going to let him lose two.

  There wasn't any real guarantee Wyatt could save himself if I died first, but I was also doing it for selfish reasons. I couldn't bear the thought of seeing him die, so Wyatt would just have to be stronger than me this one last time.

  A robed figure came up from behind Fate, banging her over the head with what looked like a pot. Fate crumpled on the spot, dropping the gun. I stared wide-eyed at Madam Mystic, wondering if I could ever live through the humiliation of being saved by a fortuneteller.

  "Did the bones help you find that pan?" I asked.

  She laughed under the piles of clothing. "No, I came across it when I slipped through the kitchen window. The bones did tell me you were in trouble, my dear."

  Groaning inwardly, I said, "Of course they did."

  That was about the point that G.T. started screeching at us. He crouched down next to an unconscious Fate, his eyes blazing. All around us, ghosts started in, moving slowly but with no less menace than if they'd been sprinting at us, shovel in hand.

  I pulled Madam Mystic towards the door so we could be as far away from this as possible. "Your good deed may have gotten you killed."

  She had no visible reaction to the news. "You saved my life, child. That's a debt not even an old, gypsy woman can forget."

  Pulling on the handle of the door with Wyatt, we grunted with the effort. "If only we would get this door open."

  "We don't need to," she said.

  I put my hands on my hips, turning to her. "If you've got another trick up your sleeve, now's the time to share."

  "Give me your hands, child."

  She didn't move her hands out of her robes. She just made the opening bigger so I could slide mine in there with hers. It was a bit like looking at a snake hole and thinking about sticking your hand in it—you may get bitten.

  I glance at Wyatt. "Do I have to?"

  He put my hands in hers, moving to stand in front of us as the first line of defense. It was horribly romantic and stupid. There was nothing he could do against a ghost. That thing with Mrs. Tucker had been a fluke.

  Eyes widening, I took my hands back. Fate's rosary had fallen just a few feet from us what seemed like hours ago, so I ran to get it, shoving it into Wyatt's hands. He held it out in front of him, warding off the ghosts for now, but it wouldn't last.

  I stuck my hands back in the robes and found myself wondering how often she washed these things. It wasn't a pleasant thought.

  "You know how to do an exorcism?" I asked, hopefully.

  "No." She tilted her head to the side. "But you do. Use my power to do it."

  Glancing over at G.T. and his solid looking body, I squeezed her hands in fear. "He's too powerful."

  I could tell she was laughing at me under there as a moment passed. "So are you, my child."

  Taking a deep breath, I focused on G.T., trying to replicate what I'd done before. The power, this time, didn't come from within me. Rather, it flowed from Madam Mystic's hands into my body. The experience was a bit like trying to hold onto a live wire, and I winced, biting my lip.

  The magic felt different from mine, too, but inexplicably the same. It was like we were compatible blood types. At the end of the day, the blood worked, but it was fundamentally different, deep down on the smallest levels.

  "Focus on what you want," Madam Mystic said. "Focus on what makes you strong."

  For a moment, I drew a blank. My cheek and leg had been broken, I was covered in cuts, bruises, and I was missing a large amount of blood. I didn't feel particularly strong, and as I watched G.T. single-handedly command a ghost army, the feeling intensified.

  Then Wyatt looked back at me, still lashing at the ghosts with his l
ittle, Gothic cross. There was complete trust and certainty in his eyes, like he couldn't imagine anyone he'd rather be fighting ghosts with. He saw my strength, and through him, I found it again.

  I'd have to thank him for it properly when we didn't have to have our clothes on.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, wrapping the magic around me. When I opened them again, I saw the world in violent shades of power. At the center was G.T., his light almost blinding. Latching onto it, I got a taste for the magic and how it differed from my own.

  And how it was the same.

  Shaking off the troubling thought, I grabbed onto his form, ignoring the jeering he sent my way. I pushed and pushed, feeling the blood flow from my nose getting worse.

  “Oh dear,” he said. “Is that the best you’ve got?”

  “Take more,” Madam Mystic said, and I took her at her word.

  I drew more from her, and I grabbed hold of G.T.’s spirit again, this time more firmly than I would’ve believed possible. At the strength of my grip, I could feel the panic start to well up in him. I was too exhausted for triumph though.

  One last time, I gathered up all the magic Madam Mystic had given me and whatever I had left. I breathed in. I breathed out. And then I sent that creep packing.

  G.T. screamed as he was pushed out of this realm, yelling all kinds of nasty things about me. Half were true. Most of his ghosts followed him out, their tether to this word cut by a pair of magical shears.

  For a guilt-filled moment, I wondered what I was going to say to Leah Anthony.

  One by one, the ghosts disappeared until there was only one left. He stood in the middle of the pews, looking up at the giant cross that hung on the wall. Wyatt looked at it too for a long couple of minutes. I got the impression that they were both praying.

  Since neither of the two idiots were moving, I pushed Wyatt forward, schooling my face into strict lines. He smiled wearily at me, grabbing my hand and pulling me forward with him.

  Nathan O'Hara met us halfway, looking just as worn out as I felt. His body was still luminous, but there was far more transparency to him now. Staying while G.T. was sent back had taken a toll on him.

  "This is Harper," Wyatt said suddenly. "I'm going to marry her."

  Nathan smiled at me, and it was impossible not to smile back. "If I'll have him."

  I couldn’t resist teasing him when he left himself this open. Instead of grinning ruefully like he usually does, Wyatt paled, his face tensing. This wasn't the time or the place to ask him about it, though. This was their time.

  "I miss you, Nate," Wyatt said, his voice thick. "I miss you every day, and I'm so sorry."

  Before our eyes, Nathan began to fade. His smile was still brilliant, though, if a little sad. "I'm the one who's sorry. I should've let you help me." He gestured around at whatever he could see that we couldn't. "Now look where I am."

  "Are you...are you happy there?"

  He grinned. "Are you asking me if I'm in a better place?" His face softened. "I am. You'll like it here, Wyatt, but I don't want to see you or the hottie too soon."

  "I prefer to be called sexy," I said helpfully. "For future reference."

  Nate reached out, his hand passing right through Wyatt's. Neither of them seemed to notice. His skin was almost impossible to see now, the pews behind him much more clear.

  "Tell Stellerman to stop messing around and settle down."

  His voice was growing faint to our ears, so Wyatt raised his. "How do you know he hasn't?"

  "Some things never change!"

  And then he was gone.

  I grabbed onto Wyatt, holding him while we gazed at the spot where his friend had been standing. He didn't say anything, his body amazingly steady. Maybe I was crying enough for the both of us. My face was so wet with blood and tears that I was sure I was pruning.

  We stood there until the cops showed up, sirens blazing. Then, like always, there were questions to answer.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A couple days later, I was sitting at Gran’s house. She was making me wait, though I knew she knew I was in the kitchen. Wyatt and I had slept nonstop since the ghost fight, and I was only up now, because I needed answers from the old hag. My entire body felt like one, exposed nerve.

  She came down the stairs in her signature red bathrobe. Sitting across from me, she sipped absently on a cup of tea that smelled delicious. I knew better than to ask her for any though. I was still too weak to survive a poisoning attempt.

  “Figured you made me wait long enough?”

  She looked at me archly, and I let it drop. It wasn’t worth the fight. Without any prompting, I told her the whole story of what had gone down at the church, paying special attention to the part Madam Mystic had played.

  Her face gave nothing away, but I could tell she was surprised.

  “Why didn’t you tell me I could share power like that?” I demanded. “Oliver and I could have been doing epic team-ups this whole time.”

  She blew on her tea, looking away from me. “Power sharing is an exclusive gift usually only accessible between family lines.”

  “Oh,” I said, not really understanding. Madam Mystic wasn’t family.

  Looking at me sharply, she asked, “What did you say the name of this woman was?”

  “I didn’t.” I’d been trying to protect her. Gran had a tendency of killing her rivals. “She goes by the name Madam Mystic.”

  The blood drained from Gran’s face, making her look very old and very powerful. She rose from her seat, and I stumbled out of mine, trying to put some distance between the two of us.

  When she spoke, her words were softly menacing. “I think it’s time you left. Come back when you stop spouting lies.”

  She pushed me out the front door without the use of her hands, and I had to scramble to get to my crutches in time. The momentum almost sent me sprawling down the porch stairs, but luckily, there was a strong, dashing man there to steady me.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, pressing my lips against his. “Up to no good?”

  He didn’t smile, and my stomach did a nervous flip. He’d been quiet since Nate disappeared. It was to be expected, and I had been giving him time to work through it before we talked about it. Seemed like that time was up, and we were about to have it out. The thought made me vaguely nauseous.

  Pulling me down with him, Wyatt sat on the front porch steps. I looked back warily at the house, expecting Gran to come out and beat us with a broom. Or, if she was really in a bad mood, cook us into a pie like the naughty children we were.

  “Actually, we probably shouldn’t sit here,” I said. “I made Gran a little upset earlier—“

  He shut me up with a glance. Man, I was just pissing everyone off today. I’d chalk it up to my powers of annoyance, but I honestly had no idea how I was doing it.

  “You learned a lot about my past during this case,” he said, his expression unreadable.

  Fidgeting slightly, I played with the hem of my shorts. “I know you would’ve preferred I didn’t.”

  He chuckled without humor. “You’re right there.”

  “In all fairness, we’re even as far as our backstories go. I know you and you know me.”

  Would Wyatt see that as a bad thing? If he truly hadn’t been ready for me to know, it could drive a wedge between us. In my experience, the past was more than strong enough to muck up the present.

  He took my left hand, playing with the ring he had put on my finger. It was enough to make my stomach drop to the ground.

  “My past isn’t pretty. And actions I’ve taken still keep me up some nights,” he said. “Do you want to give this back?”

  His question was bleak, and I could only answer it with another, my voice pathetically small. “Do you want me to?”

  The ice that had formed over Wyatt during the conversation cracked, and I could read every nuance of his expression.

  “God, no.” He squeezed my hand, shuddering. “If it were up to me, you’d never t
ake it off.”

  “Not even to bathe?”

  “Not even.”

  Grinning, I kissed him properly, feeling the tension in my body fade in a relaxed sort of happiness. “In this instance, it is up to you.”

  “What a rare turn of events.”

  “I like to mix it up.”

  *The End*

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