Witch Cast (A Mackenzie Coven Mystery Book 3)

by Sonia Parin

  “Now you sound concerned.” Deciding it would be best to wait for the right time, she kept her suspicions to herself. Jonathan never spoke about his Irish ancestry but Lexie guessed it was somehow affiliated with a coven, something he’d tried to distance himself from. If, as she suspected, her cousins were running some sort of Murder’s Inc. business, then tonight’s outing would prove to be interesting.

  “It’s... it’s all a bit too creepy for me,” he said.

  “Really? I thought being a guardian made you impervious.”

  “No such thing.” He gave a mock shudder, which did nothing to emasculate him.

  “But... but that’s as bad as Superman admitting to being afraid of heights.”

  “Let me know when you get to the point.”

  “Are you saying I’m putting my life in the hands of someone who’s afraid of a bit of hocus-pocus?”

  “I don’t recall mentioning fear.”

  “But it was implied.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t have any problems facing someone in a dark alley so long as I know they are real. When you start talking about inky black fogs... that’s another matter entirely. And I mean that literally since you’re no longer dealing with flesh and bones.”

  Seeing a waiter approaching, Lexie downed her drink. “Thank you.” She helped herself to another glass. As she drank, she noticed something stuck to the bottom of the champagne flute. A piece of paper. She plucked it off and unfolded it.

  “What’s that?” Jonathan asked.

  “It’s a note.” Her eyes widened slightly. “Correction. It’s a warning.”

  Leave now or live to regret it.

  “Huh?” She looked up and searched for the waiter but he’d disappeared from sight. She tried to remember what he’d looked like but all she came up with was a white shirt, which was strange because she was sure she’d made eye contact with him. Having worked as a waitress, she knew all about being invisible and when the tables were turned, she made sure to treat people the way she preferred to be treated. “Did you notice the waiter?”

  “Should I have?”

  Lexie handed him the note.

  “Live to regret it. That doesn’t sound good. In fact...” Jonathan scanned the foyer, “It suggests—”

  “There’ll be a whole world of pain if I don’t leave now?”

  “Yeah. What’s your pain threshold like?”

  “Non-existent,” her voice shook. “There’s a reason why I haven’t pierced my ears. At least this answers one question.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Something’s afoot and someone doesn’t want me around to intervene.” Which was precisely what she’d done on her last couple of coven related trips abroad.

  “Of course, being the sensible person that you are, you’ll heed the warning and demand that we leave straight away.”

  Lexie gave a slow shake of her head. Just as well she’d managed to convince Luna to stay behind. She’d never hear the end of it. “And what do you think Mirabelle and Catherine will have to say if I leave before the end? At least now I know I’ve been sent here for a reason.”

  “Maybe it has nothing to do with them. Maybe your mention of the M name triggered the threat.” He folded the piece of paper and slipped it into his pocket.

  Should she test the theory?

  Mac...

  Macb—

  Lexie bit the edge of her lip and when she felt the sudden urge to blurt the name out, she pressed her lips together. Several people turned toward her almost as if they’d sensed her intention.

  Jonathan grabbed her arm and tugged her closer to him.

  “What?”

  His grip tightened. “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, can you at least hazard a guess? I don’t want to worry unnecessarily.” She patted her necklace again and wished she’d thought to call her mom to ask about it. Morgana loved to wear necklaces, but Lexie couldn’t remember ever seeing anything on her that required insurance.

  Jonathan gave her arm another tug. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but for future reference, I think I should be present at your coven meetings. Either that, or you need to learn to say no or demand complete disclosure.”

  His grip tightened. He turned abruptly and dragged her along with him.

  “Hey. Now you’re freaking me out. What’s going on?”

  “You didn’t sense that?” Jonathan asked.

  “Can you be more specific? ‘That’ covers a wide spectrum of possibilities.”

  “I don’t know, it felt... It felt like a shadow. Which in itself is strange because I’m sure shadows are not something anyone can sense.”

  Lexie looked over her shoulder.

  “Not your shadow,” he growled, “Something else. It’s hard to explain. I’d swear I could sense it looking at you.”

  Jonathan gave her another tug. This time, she swirled around him almost as if to the tune of a Viennese Waltz.

  “Stay behind me,” he said.

  “Are you actually seeing it?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then what am I doing standing behind you? What if it’s actually behind me?” Lexie yelped and swung around, in the process, twisting Jonathan’s hand. Great. Now they probably looked as if they were dancing the Twist.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I don’t know... Trying to stay one step ahead of a menacing shadow I can’t even see.” She hopped on the spot.

  “Now what?”

  “I don’t want it crawling up my legs. Argh! I think something touched me. Why can’t I see it?”

  “There it is.”

  “Where?” Lexie threw herself against Jonathan and flung her arms around his neck. He responded by lifting her off the ground and into his arms. Strangely, no one seemed to be paying them any heed. “Is it still there?” Her gaze sprung around in every direction. “I’m seeing shadows everywhere now.”

  “Are any of them moving toward you?” he asked.

  “I’ll let you know when one does. In fact, I’m sure I’ll let everyone know.” She tightened her hold around his neck and sent her gaze on a frantic search of anything threatening. After a few minutes, she forced herself to relax. Her nose twitched. “What shampoo do you use? It smells nice.”

  Someone cleared their throat and called for attention.

  Still holding Lexie in his arms, Jonathan turned. “I think someone’s about to make an announcement.”

  Lexie glanced around. Why couldn’t she see the shadow? “Has it gone?”

  “Hush.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  A man wearing a burgundy red velvet jacket cleared his throat. He thanked everyone for attending and bringing along with them their wonderful generosity. Lexie wanted to ask if one of them had also brought along something extra, like a menacing shadow.

  She made a point of studying the crowd thinking that if someone were responsible for the shadow, they’d want to keep track of its progress.

  “For those of you who don’t know me, I am Edward Le Mans...”

  “Did he say Lemons?”

  “Le Mans,” Jonathan corrected.

  “When Constance Hargreaves approached me to suggest I take on this project, she shared her long held dream of bringing back to life a tradition that had long been lost. Our most esteemed thespians made their debuts on this stage. Legends were born here. The Garland Theater has now been revived and its former glory restored. Here, we wish to witness the launch of new stars. To nurture new talent and hope they can form strong bonds with the historic past that dwells within these walls. A past that has been dormant for far too long...”

  Lexie shivered. “Do you think they awakened a dark shadow in the process?”

  “You’re spooked.”

  “Really? What gave it away?”

  “A moment before you were laughing at me.”

  “I take it back.” She fiddled with her necklace. It had a strange soothing affect on her, almost lulling
her into forgetting why she’d jumped on Jonathan’s arms. “I think you can set me down now.”

  He looked around them and then nodded. “The coast appears to be clear. Stick by my side.”

  “You don’t need to tell me twice.” Lexie couldn’t figure out what had come over her. She’d faced a more serious menace without breaking into a sweat. “Why couldn’t I see the shadow?”

  “Maybe it didn’t want you to.”

  “I don’t like this one bit. If a shadow is coming after me, I want to be able to see it.”

  Catherine. Mirabelle.

  It suddenly occurred to Lexie she should have been hollering for her cousins. If anyone knew something about this, they would.

  She listened for their answer.

  Why is she hollering?

  Catherine, sounding as bright as ever.

  Perhaps because my life is in danger.

  Nonsense.

  That had definitely been Mirabelle.

  What can we do for you?

  For starters, you can stop sounding like a sales assistant at Bergdorf Goodman’s.

  Lexie had no trouble imagining Mirabelle sticking her nose in the air.

  Something is coming after me. A shadow.

  She heard her cousins whispering among themselves. Catherine’s tone carried an edge of concern while Mirabelle remained her usual, calm self.

  Did it have jewel like eyes?

  Huh?

  Ruby colored eyes.

  Lexie turned to Jonathan. “Did you say you saw bright red eyes looking down at us from the balcony?”

  “Yes.”

  Then it’s true. It worked.

  What was that? What’s true and what worked? And if something worked, who’s behind it all?

  Catherine and Mirabelle spoke in hurried voices, but the words were scrambled so Lexie couldn’t make them out.

  Anytime you’re ready, feel free to share what you know with me. Hello? Girls? Anyone?

  No answer... “Something is definitely afoot,” she whispered.

  Someone hushed her. Lexie rolled her eyes. A hum of admiration rose around her. “What’s going on? What have I missed?”

  “Stacks of people credited for helping to bring this project together and now we’re all going to be mesmerized by the surprise appearance of the reclusive—”

  “And so, without further ado, I present to you the incomparable, the magnificent legend of the stage, Miss Lucinda Cunningham.”

  Lexie stood on her toes but couldn’t see anything... anyone.

  Long seconds passed and still no Miss Lucinda Cunningham.

  The air grew thick with expectation.

  Someone coughed.

  Feet were shuffled. People craned their necks to see.

  The double doors leading from the foyer to the stage area creaked open.

  Edward Le Mans stepped forward. Holding a monocle glass to his eye, he reached for the doors to open them wider and as he did, a woman appeared wearing a long, gossamer silver gown.

  Her face looked deadly pale, made even paler by the contrast of her raven dark locks, now lifted off her face and shoulders by a non-existent breeze.

  “Lucinda Cunningham, I presume?” she couldn’t help saying.

  As the legendary thespian lifted her arms, her gown flapped like the sails on a ship.

  Nice trick, Lexie thought. Then she noticed Lucinda’s feet weren’t touching the ground.

  “Yes. Miss Lucinda Cunningham, but not quite in the flesh,” Jonathan said just as a scream pierced the silence in the foyer.

  Chapter Four

  There should have been a mass exodus stampeding out of the theater with people clambering and clawing to get to the exit. Instead, Jonathan and Lexie found themselves being bustled forward toward the apparition. Someone jabbed her in the ribs. Lexie struggled for breath as she was pushed against the people in front of her, who in turn were pushing and pressing against the guests in front of them.

  “Everyone, please calm down.”

  The desperate plea was almost drowned out by the rising murmurs of curiosity.

  Grabbing hold of her hand, Jonathan pulled her away from the mad rush. They stood to the side, their backs to the wall, their lips slightly parted in surprise, as the wave of onlookers continued to rush forward to get a closer look.

  Lexie couldn’t help rubbing her eyes, just in case. “Are we seeing what I think we’re seeing?”

  “That depends,” he clipped out, “What do you think you’re seeing?”

  “I’d rather not stake my reputation on it, before I even establish a reputation. To me, it looks like a... A spirit... A ghost... Specter? Phantom?”

  “Yeah, I’m seeing one of those too.”

  “Does that mean what I think it means?” her words sounded flat to her own ears.

  “Since I can’t read your mind and I’m in no state to employ deductive thinking, it would help if you could give me a hint.”

  Lexie scooped in a breath and, before she lost the ability to speak, she said, “I assume that if there’s a ghost, then there must be a body and if there’s a body...” She gave a small lift of her shoulder. “Given my recent experiences, I doubt Miss Lucinda Cunningham suddenly exhaled her last breath all by herself.”

  “You think someone killed her?” he asked matter-of-factly.

  “I hope not. I’d like to go home, curl up with a cup of hot chocolate, and read a book. You know, do stuff normal people do.”

  “No chance of that happening tonight. We have a creepy dark shadow and now this.”

  Lexie gave a fierce shake of her head but it did nothing to dislodge the thoughts hovering in her mind or the image in front of her. Yet... surely this couldn’t be happening. Keeping her tone casual, she said, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  “What do you suggest we do instead?”

  “Some common sense backpedalling. You know, regroup. This might just be a case of us getting caught up in a spectacle. A planned farce. For all we know, this could be a performance. Throw in some high tech special effects and I’d be gullible enough to believe we’re seeing a ghost and a creepy shadow. All this could be the prelude to the show.”

  “But if that’s the case, why couldn’t you see the shadow?”

  That required too much thinking and the numbness she felt in her body had made its way to her head. “Shouldn’t everyone be running in the opposite direction?”

  Jonathan gave a small, pensive nod. “You’d think that would be a normal reaction.”

  She tried to make sense of the unusual behavior, to understand the macabre fascination...

  “I think their reaction might have been entirely different if it had been one of their own,” Jonathan remarked. “They’d be clamoring for someone’s head.”

  “You’re right. I came across a car accident once. People stopped to gawk and grab as much information as they could before moving on. I figured they wanted to have a story to tell when they got home.” As the way cleared in front of her, Lexie narrowed her gaze. Miss Lucinda Cunningham appeared to be rising higher off the ground. This couldn’t be an illusion. “Let’s assume... hypothetically... that we are actually seeing a ghost—”

  “Fine. If you insist. All right... I’m okay with that.”

  “Do you think she’ll speak?” her voice lowered and filled with awe.

  “I’m guessing that’s what everyone is waiting to see.”

  Lexie looked around her. Everyone’s attention remained glued to the specter hovering in front of them.

  “Well, this is an interesting turn of events. I wonder what happened to her? I mean... hypothetically, if she is a ghost, has she been dead all along or is this something recent? And how long has it been since her last stage performance? Five... ten years? Longer? Why would she come out of seclusion now?”

  “That’s three more questions than I have answers for, meaning, your guess is as good as mine. Her last play was Ibsen’s The Doll House. After the premier, she made an announ
cement saying she wished to withdraw from public scrutiny, or some such thing. If she’d given it some thought she could have come up with a more memorable line.”

  “Like Garbo’s I wish to be alone? I doubt anyone will ever come up with a better line.” The crowd appeared to be getting restless. Any minute now she expected someone to demand Miss Lucinda Cunningham say something.

  “Okay. What’s the drill?” Jonathan asked.

  “Huh?”

  “You’re the experienced one here. What happens next?”

  Lexie put her hand to her mouth. Was that the reason why she was here? Had Catherine and Mirabelle known something would happen?

  Edward Le Mans tugged the sleeves of his burgundy red velvet jacket and called for silence. “Miss Cunningham wishes to speak.”

  Everyone leaned forward in expectation but instead of speaking, Lucinda Cunningham made a beckoning gesture.

  “Yeah, right. That’s not going to happen. No way am I following her into that dark theater.”

  “Are we still in hypothetical mode or have we moved on from there to actually believing she’s a real spirit?” Jonathan asked.

  “It makes no difference to me. I’m staying right here. I promised Mirabelle I’d stay until the end. I can be as vague as she is. No one needs to know I glued myself to a safe corner.”

  “Don’t you think she’d want you to investigate? It might fall under your jurisdiction... as the incoming High Chair.”

  Lexie patted herself.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “My badge. Oh, wait... I don’t have one because I’m not the police.” She folded her arms and pressed her back to the wall. “I don’t wish to be one of those fools who rush in where angels fear to tread. I agreed to put on my happy face and attend this shindig, but I did not sign up for murder and mayhem.”

  The ghostly apparition made another beckoning gesture. Annoyingly, her long fingers appeared to be pointing straight at Lexie.

  “I hate to break this to you, but that looks like a personal invitation.”