Southern Curses (Max Porter Mysteries Book 6)

by Stuart Jaffe

  A thrill surged through Max’s body. He had no idea what he would find there, but everything in his gut told him this was the right play. It was a special sensation that he only ever felt from closing in on a solution to a case. And perhaps that was the answer to his question about Drummond. Because what kind of crimes need solving in the afterlife? Maybe this feeling was the real reason Drummond had chosen to stay.

  Chapter 15

  Sandra led her part of the group out of the building with no trouble. At least, Max knew they did not encounter any police trouble. Any other difficulties that happened, he missed out on. Instead, he sat on the rooftop and waited for Drummond.

  An hour later, his partner arrived looking like his old self — dead and pale, but not weary. One police car had returned, so they had to wait on the roof even longer. Without his coat, Max shivered against the night air. An unwelcome wind picked up, forcing him to take shelter in the stairwell.

  While Drummond followed the cop around — partially to keep tabs on what the police were doing, partially because the cop was an attractive woman — Max wasted away the time playing Candy Crush on his phone. He had gone over the case details so many times in his head that it all bled together forming a slush of information. Better to clear his mind than wade into that mire once more.

  After another hour, Drummond returned. “She’s finally leaving.”

  “What was she doing?”

  “Mostly poking around the parking lot and the main floor. I think she’s bucking for a promotion and wants to find some key bit of evidence to bolster her chances.”

  “Because she’s poking around downstairs?”

  “No, because I overheard her call her boyfriend and tell him that’s what she was doing. Oh, and she has a boyfriend.”

  “So?”

  “It’s disappointing. Takes the luster off the fantasy.”

  Max glanced up. “Please, listen to me carefully. I have zero interest in knowing about the sex fantasies of ghosts in general. And I really have no interest in knowing yours in particular.”

  “Then put away your game-phone-thing and let’s get to doing what we should be doing.”

  Max pocketed his phone and headed downstairs. Walking back up the hall felt a little like walking into an old cemetery. The closed doors stood quiet in the still air — tombstones marking long forgotten people. A few bullet holes marred the walls — reminders of the unfortunate deaths from before.

  When they reached Madame Vandsandt’s apartment, yellow police tape crisscrossed the doorless opening. The splintered jamb had several holes that had been circled and numbered. Max ducked under the tape and entered the apartment.

  The main room smelled of officialness. Even if various bullet holes and other detritus had not been marked for evidence, the room would have felt invaded by authority. It stunk the way a hospital stunk — full of special chemicals.

  To the right, Max saw an outline where the Pale Man’s accomplice had dropped. “Guess he didn’t make it.”

  Drummond hovered over the empty space which should have had markings for the Pale Man but did not. “You better be extra careful. This guy survived and he’s going to be angry with you. This is the third time he’s failed with you.”

  “No, he succeeded the first time. He only was supposed to send me to the hospital, which he did. It’s these other times that he’s screwed up. Frankly, he should be fired. He’s not a very good hitman.”

  “Lucky for you and Sandra.”

  “Yeah,” Max said, losing all sense of humor about the idea. “Let’s get to work.”

  They started in the main room, examining every detail, searching for anything that hinted at being important. Max went to the bookshelves. He pulled out volume after volume of texts with titles that promised riches of magic tutelage. They were all blank.

  “None of these books are real.”

  “Show me,” Drummond said, swishing across the air. He looked over Max’s shoulder as Max flipped through several books revealing one blank, tattered page after another. “That’s not right. Some of those books had words in them. I saw them.”

  “But you couldn’t open them.”

  “What about the one she used? The one with the spell we need?”

  Max dumped the empty books and jumped over to the witch’s chair. On the floor was the book of curses — empty. “The spell she cast that let her escape — could it have wiped the books clean?”

  Drummond shrugged. “The one constant I’ve learned about magic is never assume you know the limit of the stuff. Every single time I think I understand that world, along comes a witch who outdoes my highest expectations.”

  Pulling on his lip, Max walked off to the kitchen. While he accepted Drummond’s notion that the world of witches sunk deeper than they knew, he also believed there were limitations. After all, every witch Max had encountered had to use certain ingredients and go through a casting process. It wasn’t as if they could learn to spew lasers from their eyes. That wasn’t how it worked. Magic had rules just like physics. It wasn’t a trick.

  Unless, this time, it was.

  “What if it was like a magic trick?” he said. When nobody answered, he glanced up to find that Drummond had gone into a different room to search. Max took a seat at the kitchen table — a small rectangular slab of wood pressed against one wall. Dead flowers stuck out of a cloudy vase.

  If it had been a trick, it was one that involved actual magic — a magic magic trick. It could have been done like the old child’s trick of writing with lemon juice as “invisible ink”. All those texts could have been written in some special ink that reacted by going blank whenever a specific spell was cast. That would also account for the fact that most of these texts were impossible to find. What a great way to pass on history and spells and all their learning without being persecuted by those who don’t agree — something witches knew a lot about.

  He had no idea if he was right, but Max felt better knowing he had any idea at all. He stepped up to the kitchen counter and searched through the utensil drawers, the deep cabinets of pots and pans, and the overhead cabinets with canned foods and cereal boxes. On the splashboard behind the oven sat an egg-timer shaped like an egg with two big eyes and a silly smile. Next to a coffee maker was a mug with the word “WORLD’S BEST GRANDMA!” written on the side. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, though Max shuddered at the thought of Madame Vansandt having a grandchild.

  Drummond’s strong voice cut through the quiet apartment. “Hey, Max, in here.”

  Max found the ghost in the master bedroom. A more modern-looking room than any other in the apartment, the bedroom had a sterile aspect about it that brought to mind a hotel room. There were pictures on the wall and a dresser and a television, but none of it connected to a specific personality. The main room with its tapestries and old books and dim lights — that screamed of the old witch. But this bedroom looked generic. Which made Max wonder which version of Madame Vansandt was the truth — this room or the other one?

  “You’re not going to believe this one,” Drummond said, gesturing to the bedside table.

  Max saw a book sitting under a modern lamp. Picking it up, he read the cover — Cabbages and Kings by O. Henry. The Magi Group named themselves after O. Henry’s The Gift of the Magi, and O. Henry had some tangential connections with them.

  He set the book back. “That’s weird, but not enough. Lots of people have this book. She could’ve been a fan. Or she could’ve been getting to know her enemy.”

  “Or she could be working with them.”

  Max opened a small drawer built into the bedside table. A pencil rolled atop a small pad. Next to the pad were two leather-bound, pocket-sized books — Roads of Destiny and Whirligigs both by O. Henry. Max opened Roads of Destiny. On the dedication page, he found a handwritten inscription —

  To Mrs. Vansandt —

  The Magi welcome you

  “Crap,” Max muttered and displayed the book for Drummond.

 
“That pretty much settles it. She’s part of the Magi Group.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Max, c’mon. One book might’ve been a coincidence. But three of them and one is inscribed to her from the Magi? For Pete’s sake, didn’t the guy only put out three books? She has them all. She’s part of that group.”

  “I know what it looks like, but think about it. Does it make any sense? If Madame Vansandt worked with the Magi, then why haven’t they used her? Why go to all that trouble with me when she could have cast the spell herself? I mean, she’s clearly got some mean mojo. From what we’ve seen of her, don’t you think if she teamed up with Mother Hope, they could have taken out Tucker Hull without all this cursing nonsense?”

  “That’s a bit thin. Yes, she’s powerful, but we don’t know how powerful. We also don’t know how well she gets along with Mother Hope. In my experience, witches care a lot about the pecking order. Mother Hope may have brought her into the Magi fold, but I doubt they were too close. You’re also forgetting one important thing.”

  “Which is?”

  “Mother Hope had it in for you. Her method here may not be the most efficient, but a witch can get blinded by her hatred. So much so that she’ll convince herself hurting you is the best way to hurt the Hulls and achieve her goals. I’ve seen it before.”

  “Maybe,” Max said, staring at the book. “But look around. You see anything else here that looks like Magi? If I’m going to believe any real connection with that group, I’d have to suspect Madame Vansandt is a freelancer. Possibly did some work for the Magi and that’s why she got this book with the ...”

  Max flipped to the inscription again. Drummond came in close, his eyes on Max. “What is it, pal? I can see your wheels turning.”

  “The inscription. It’s here.”

  “Yeah, it is. That’s why we’re talking about this. Right?”

  “I mean, it’s here in this book. Why didn’t it get wiped clean like all the other books? Not the text of the book, but the inscription. If she was really part of the Magi group, and this spell she used wiped away all the secrets, then why didn’t she protect this as well?”

  “Because she’s not with them. Somebody put this here for us to find.”

  Max’s pulse quickened. He put the book back. “Somebody wants us to conclude that Madame Vansandt is with the Magi. Which brings us to the next questions — why? and who?”

  “Well, let’s think about it.” As Drummond spoke, he floated through the bed. “If these books are intended to set up the witch in a false connection, that means they had to be planted for us to find. So, somebody had to know we’d be coming here.”

  “Then it couldn’t have been done before today. We had no idea we’d be here before that. Heck, we’d never even heard of this witch until last night.”

  “Once we got here, there was no chance to sneak those books in. The only person I saw go into this room was your wife’s friend, Maria.”

  “You think her being afraid and all was an act? She’s really a mole for the Magi or someone else?”

  Drummond threw out the notion with a toss of his hand. He had drifted half-in a wall but took no notice. “We’ve both seen enough fear to know that was the real thing.”

  “Unless she’s a really good actress.”

  “Sorry, but I don’t believe it. Maria was Vansandt’s student. She would know about the disappearing words on the pages. If for some reason she wanted to set up her mentor, she would know better than to try it this way. Besides, you’re forgetting that there was a simple way to get the books in under our noses.”

  Max rubbed his eyes. His brain felt foggy from lack of sleep. “You got me. What am I missing?”

  “We were up on the roof for hours. Anybody could have come in here during that time.”

  “You’re right. All those involved in this would know that people would come back at some point. Especially us. We’re the research crew. Of course, we’d be expected to return here and figure out what’s going on. So, somebody plants these books and waits for us to go down the wrong path. Somebody who knows we’d look at the books. Unless ... uh-oh.”

  Drummond froze. “Unless this was meant as lure to get us wasting time in the bedroom while our enemies took up positions in the living room. Stay here. I’ll check.”

  Though Drummond dashed out and back in seconds, Max already knew the answer. He walked out of the bedroom to find Leon Moore sitting in the old witch’s chair.

  Leon opened his arms wide like a conqueror. “I knew you couldn’t resist coming back here.”

  Chapter 16

  Drummond bolted ahead, his hands turning icy white as he speared towards Leon. Two feet before he struck, Drummond was thrown aside and slammed into the bookshelves. He bellowed as the wood cracked and dust puffed out. Though unable to hear the ghost, Leon noticed the wood and dust.

  From under his shirt, Leon pulled out his necklace — a ward against ghosts. “Your friend doesn’t learn. I never talk with you unprepared.”

  Max put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall. “I guess he’s an optimist when it comes to hurting you.”

  Leon laughed hard enough to cough, bending over slightly in the process. For an instant, he looked like the man Max had first met a few years ago — an old librarian harboring a love for books and research and concerned only with the pursuit of knowledge. But as the coughing subsided, Leon straightened, and the new man returned — a guard and lackey of Mother Hope doing all that she asked in return for strength and vitality. Max wondered what else Leon had to give in order to gain his temporary youth.

  “Please step a little closer. We have a bit to talk about,” Leon said, “and I don’t want your optimist getting in my way. So, pardon the magic.”

  He bent down and flicked open a lighter. Setting it close to the floor, the flame ignited a thin line of dark powder Max had failed to spot earlier. The flame shot forward, following the line of powder like a racecar on a straight track. It sped by Drummond, made a right angle turn near the front door and continued on. Another right angle and it was headed for Max. He knew enough magic to step forward rather than play chicken — especially when he noticed that the line went right underneath him. It finished where it began, having formed a large square around Max and Leon.

  Drummond pounded on the air above the line as if it were made of thick, solid glass. “I hate when they do that to me. I’m here for you, pal, but I can’t get in there.”

  Max nodded. This wasn’t the first time magic had been used to keep Drummond away.

  Leon returned to the witch’s chair. “That’s better. Now we won’t be interrupted.”

  “Can we get this over with? Or I’ll start feeling as optimistic as the ghost.”

  Leon’s mirth dropped away leaving an inscrutable glare upon his black, leathered face. “I suppose I should forgive your rudeness. You’re a Northerner, after all. You weren’t brought up right.”

  “You know, ever since I moved down here, all of you people have been telling me how rude I am, but I’m not the one constantly trying to take over, I’m not the one kidnapping people, and I’m certainly not the one making deals with a witch for a false sense of youth.”

  “You have no clue what you’re talking about. Which is why I’m here and you haven’t been hurt. Yet. I want you — Mother Hope wants you — to understand the situation in its fullest.”

  “I’m really not in the mood for threats I’m just going to ignore.”

  Drummond clapped his hands. “That’s right! Give him a hard time.”

  “No threats,” Leon said, crossing his legs. “Well, not yet. Let’s start with some simple truth. You see, you seem to think that we can all live without Mother Hope. But to do so means letting the Hulls run things, and that is a dangerous, unthinkable existence.”

  “I don’t want that at all. I don’t want any of you people running anything. There’s no need.”

  “There absolutely is. Power always exists, and if w
e don’t control it, then someone else will. It’s very much like politics. We, all of us, need to have somebody in charge. It makes me think of those people who get their hackles all raised up about government. They don’t want government around. Government’s the problem. Don’t let the government take control of this or that because they’ll screw it up like everything they do.

  “But the truth is that they do want government — for without a government, we’d have anarchy, and that is not sustainable. So, no matter how much they complain, and they love to complain, people do want a government — just not for the same purpose as you. One side thinks the government should provide education and health care. One side thinks it should provide military and security. They all want it, and they all don’t want it.

  “Our situation is the same. Somebody will take authority over the use of magic in this city and in this state, maybe even in this country. That can’t be changed. We need that authority just as we need a government. Since you seem to act like a swing vote, you have found yourself in a unique, temporary position. You can throw your support to either side and help choose all of our fates.”

  Max wagged his finger. “Nice speech, but let’s be honest about this. I don’t really get to choose anything.”

  “Oh, no, you’re wrong about that.” Leon popped from his chair, but Max caught a slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes as though the move hurt a little — perhaps Mother Hope’s magic hadn’t made the man as young as he had hoped. Leon stepped in close, blocking Max’s view of Drummond. “I need you to pay attention. I’m not here out of some misguided loyalty. I’m here because I’ve convinced the Magi Group to give you a chance to do the right thing. The others, especially Mother Hope, are livid at what you’ve done. They want to use the curse you still have on you and watch as you spend eternity stuck between the living and the dead. But I’ve seen you work. You’re a smart man. All you need is the facts and a chance. You’ll make the right decision.”

  “Your confidence in me is astounding. I’d probably be more impressed if I wasn’t standing in the rubble of a witch’s apartment while my partner is blocked from joining us.”