Witch Cast (A Mackenzie Coven Mystery Book 3)

by Sonia Parin

  Before she could blink, her clothes had... changed? Metamorphosed? Lexie tugged the sleeves of her tailored jacket.

  “I didn’t want to push my luck so I worked with the jeans and added a blouse and jacket. I think it works.”

  “Umm... yes. Thank you.”

  Edward Le Mans strode a couple of paces ahead of them; his steps hurried and matched my Octavia’s, who appeared to be quite comfortable with the cracking pace.

  Lexie’s intuition kicked in, the little voice in her head suggesting she might want to catch up or risk being at the receiving end of another well-meaning suggestion from Octavia who might resort to producing a cattle prod.

  “Right through here,” Edward Le Mans led them straight through to the stage area where Miss Lucinda Cunningham awaited with obvious impatience.

  The specter hovered from one end of the stage to the other, stopping at intervals to tap its... ghostly foot.

  Constance Hargreaves stood by the stairs leading up to the stage, her lips pursed, her gaze narrowed and aimed directly at Lexie.

  “My intuition tells me I’m expected to act as some sort of liaison. What do you think Miss Lucinda Cunningham’s ghost wants?” she asked Octavia.

  “It’s quite obvious.”

  “It is?”

  Miss Lucinda Cunningham swept across the stage and shot toward her. Lexie stiffened.

  “She appears to be taking your measure,” Octavia said.

  “You think?”

  The specter gestured for her to turn around.

  Lexie obeyed. Then swung around. “All right. Enough of that. I’m here to find out who murdered you.”

  The specter shrunk back.

  Was Lucille in denial?

  Constance shook her head and clapped her hands. “You are wasting time. The show must go on.”

  “This shouldn’t take long. She appears to be quite... cognizant. Once she points the finger to the murderer, we’ll be out of here and you can... carry on.”

  “You seem to misunderstand.” Constance hurried toward her. “You are not here to solve the murder. We already have someone looking into it.”

  “Right, because your average NY detective is conversant with these type of crimes. You don’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation.” Lexie glanced over at Octavia who gave her an approving nod. “As you can see by the proof before us, this is not your usual... run of the mill murder. There is something... otherworldly involved here.”

  “And that is precisely why I have been called in.”

  At the sound of a familiar voice, Lexie turned, only to realize there was nothing familiar about the man approaching.

  Not Dante O’Rourke. The UK detective she had recently met had hailed from a branch affiliated with the British Mackenzie Coven and had been fully conversant with strange things that go bump in the night.

  “Who are you?”

  “Detective Inspector Grant O’Rourke.”

  “O’Rourke, of the O’Rourke Group... from the UK?”

  “At your service, ma’am... or rather, at the service of The Garland Theater Committee.” He offered his hand and gave her a firm shake.

  So... can you read my thoughts?

  Certainly.

  “How is Detective Inspector Dante O’Rourke?

  “He is very well and sends his regards.”

  “What’s your relation to him?”

  “Cousins.”

  On closer inspection, Lexie realized Grant O’Rourke shared the same built and features; broad shoulders, squared jaw, dark wavy hair and piercing ocean blue eyes that made her think of the poet Byron.

  “You got here very quickly.”

  He shrugged.

  “So... do you have any suspects?”

  “Not yet.”

  “The cast?”

  “I’m about to speak with them.”

  “The shadow?”

  “We’ll get to the shadow later. When you have a moment.”

  “I didn’t actually see it until the end.”

  “Is there anyone who saw the shadow before that?”

  She nodded. “My guardian.”

  He gave a stiff nod. “Jonathan O’Connor. It’ll be good to catch up with him.” He motioned toward the stage.

  Lexie turned and saw Constance eyeballing her. “If I’m not here to investigate, then why am I here?” She remembered Constance saying she’d promised to do all she could. At the time, Lexie hadn’t known what she’d meant. Now, she had to wonder if Morgana was somehow involved. Surely not. But why else would Constance talk as if they knew each other?

  She hoped her intuition was wrong, because if it wasn’t and Morgana had somehow interfered...

  “You are to be the new Lady Macbeth, of course.”

  Lexie’s mouth gaped open but before she could speak a clap of thunder exploded above her.

  Octavia edged toward her. “Did you see that?”

  “What? See? See what? I was too busy hearing the objection from above. What did you see?”

  “A shadow.”

  Lexie jumped and danced on the spot. “Where? Where?”

  “Gone now. It swept across the theater, toward the stage.”

  Constance clapped her hands. “Places, please,” she hollered and pointed toward the stage.

  “... When... I... burned... in desire... to question them further, they... made themselves air, into... which they vanished...” Yeah, that sounded about right, Lexie thought. She’d made herself hoarse calling for her cousins. While they’d appeared in a flash, as soon as they’d taken in the scene, they’d vanished.

  The director surged to his feet and flapped his arms about. “No. No. No. Why are you gasping between words?”

  “It’s called breathing.”

  “You’re not doing it right. Stand up straight. And stop thinking about breathing.”

  “I can’t. The more I try, the more I think about it.” She turned to the specter who appeared to be distraught by her attempt to massacre Shakespeare. “Help me out, Lucy.”

  Constance raked her fingers through her hair. “Please refrain from using such a familiar term with Miss Lucinda Cunningham. She might no longer be of this world but she still reserves the right to be addressed with appropriate reverence.”

  Lexie fought the urge to scrunch up the manuscript she’d been reading from. She brushed her hand across her neck and only then noticed the necklace she wore. It looked like an antique, the chain interwoven with rose buds. Octavia’s doing? She hadn’t said anything, however, the tailored jacket went rather well with her faded jeans...

  “Isn’t there supposed to be an understudy? Where is she?” She gave Constance an appeasing smile. “I wouldn’t want to tread on anyone’s toes. I could never aspire to be as good as... the unforgettable... the inimitable... incomparable Miss Lucinda Cunningham.” Lexie looked up and noticed Lucy growing in height.

  Gloating, much?

  And why was Constance okay with Lucy hanging around? In her place, Lexie would have called for an exorcist.

  Octavia rushed to her side. “You’re doing as well as can be expected, I’m sure. Don’t let her get to you. As for the exorcist—”

  “You heard that?”

  “I could hardly miss it. You were mentally shouting. Anyhow, I believe The Garland Theater committee will try to milk this for all it’s worth.”

  “You mean they’re going to use Lucy to publicize the theater?”

  “Great marketing ploy,” Octavia remarked.

  “At the risk of sounding like a broken record, if they’re so keen to succeed, what am I doing on the stage?”

  Octavia bit the edge of her lip.

  “Did Morgana have anything to do with this?”

  A scraping sound had them both looking up.

  Octavia reacted by pushing Lexie out of the way. Lexie stumbled, twisted and fell on her butt. She stared vacantly at the spot where she’d been standing. Less than a second later, a stage light crashed with a resounding clangor.


  A confusion of footsteps rushed about. Lexie saw someone clambering up to the stage, fast on the trail of the perpetrator who’d just tried to kill her.

  “Here I was, worrying about being attacked by a shadow when all along, I should have been concerned about other assailants.”

  “Are you all right?” Octavia asked as she rushed to her side. “Is anything broken?”

  “Does my pride count?”

  Grant O’Rourke appeared from stage... left. Lexie frowned. How did she know that?

  “Osmosis,” Octavia offered.

  “I’m sure I didn’t holler that.”

  “Actually, you did. I suppose all that time spent with your mom paid off. She mentioned her aspirations and eventual disappointment in you for not following in her footsteps.” Octavia clamped her hand over her mouth. Clearly, she’d just revealed something she hadn’t meant to.

  “Your honesty is taking on a biting edge. Did she put you up to this?”

  Octavia sighed. “She did hope this experience would incite feelings of remorse for not following her advice. She thinks this is a critical time in your life and you should consider redirecting your focus. It’s never too late—”

  “Did anyone see a shadow?” Grant O’Rourke asked.

  Still frowning at Octavia, Lexie shook her head. “Either I happened to be looking in another direction or the shadow doesn’t wish me to see it. Now I’m thinking I should capitalize the Shadow... for emphasis.” Grant helped her to her feet. “By the way, can we actually count on your entourage?” she asked, remembering the entire O’Rourke Group had come to her rescue in a rather effective manner.

  He nodded. “Please remember, if you ever need to call me, you must use my full name.”

  Otherwise, the entire O’Rourke clan would descend on her, one hundred voices echoing in unison.

  “Five minutes everyone,” the director called out.

  “I had a near death experience here. I think I need more than five minutes to pull myself together.” She followed O’Rourke to the back stage area. He’d already climbed up to the catwalk and was inspecting the lights and ropes.

  “Do you think he needs assistance?” Octavia asked.

  “I’m guessing you want to assist him.”

  “I wouldn’t mind. He smells nice... and looks even nicer. I’ve always had a thing for tweed.”

  “Tweed? Is that a new way to describe a man?”

  “I was referring to his jacket.”

  Several technicians joined him. After a few minutes, Grant came down and declared the area safe.

  “Are you quite sure?”

  He wiped his hands with a freshly pressed handkerchief. “Quite sure. The show must go on.”

  She clicked her fingers in front of his eyes. “Just checking to see if you’ve been beguiled. Far too many people are making that statement.”

  “I can assure you I am not beguiled. We are protected.”

  We? Meaning the O’Rourke Group?

  Octavia looked about ready to swoon. Lexie nudged her.

  “Would you like me to run lines with you?” she suggested.

  “Yes, by all means. Let’s do that...” She looked over her shoulder and then whispered, “Are you, by any chance, capable of throwing your voice?”

  Octavia shook her head. “That would be beyond my abilities.”

  Worth a try, she thought. “So what’s the verdict?” she asked Grant.

  “There was definitely an attempt on your life. According to the information I’ve gathered thus far, the Shadow appears to be responsible for Miss Lucinda Cunningham’s demise. This incident, however, suggests there are others involved in sabotaging this production.”

  Lexie lifted her gaze to the ceiling... just in case another thunderclap exploded.

  “You think a real person is colluding with the Shadow?”

  “Quite possibly. Now we must determine who stands to gain by shutting down the show.”

  Or by getting rid of her.

  She didn’t think a shadow would be compelled by financial gain to commit a crime. “Octavia. Please look into the history of this building. There must be archival material housed somewhere. This shadow must have come from somewhere... someone.” She looked around her. “Also, find out who the understudy is.”

  “You think this was personal?” Octavia asked.

  “I’m willing to bet my lif— my acting career on it.”

  Chapter Eight

  “I’ve written a report of today’s events.”

  Lexie made a beeline for the couch and, with a groan, collapsed onto it face down. Luna leaped up and sat on her.

  What took you so long? Where have you been? I’ve been pacing for hours on end waiting for you to return, fretting and worrying and imaging all sorts of horrible things happening to you.

  Well, I’m home now. And something horrible did happen, not that you need to worry about it.

  Feed me, I’m hungry. You left me alone in the apartment, knowing full well the shadow could get to me.

  Relax. The Shadow’s not after you.

  How can you be sure? What if it goes after those nearest and dearest to you?

  I’m tempted to say you should be safe.

  Feed me. I’m hungry.

  “Octavia.”

  “I’m on it. Oh, and I’ve earmarked the pages you need to memorize for tomorrow.”

  Lexie buried her face against a cushion to muffle her groan. She didn’t see the point in contacting her mom. Morgana would simply ignore her. Instinct or her heightened intuition told her Morgana had something to do with it all.

  “Did you ever find out what happened to the diamond necklace?”

  “Sorry, did you say something?”

  “Necklace.”

  “What about it?”

  Why was Octavia tiptoeing around the subject? Lexie tried to lift her arm but it flopped down again. “Never mind.”

  Are you coming down with something?

  Yes.

  What?

  I don’t know. What could make me sick enough to have to stay home, but not sick enough to warrant a trip to the doctor or the morgue?

  “Something contagious would do the trick,” Octavia suggested, “The common cold, but it would defeat the purpose since you won’t be able to solve the crime without being present at the theater.”

  She heard us.

  She did.

  Why did she hear us?

  “I’m an empath slash mind reader but limited to only pick up the needs of my employer, so if you happen to be talking about me, I won’t be able to hear you.”

  Lexie lifted her head. “Am I paying you?”

  “Not as such. I am bound to the Mackenzie Coven and draw a wage from them. But as long as I am assigned to a coven member, I become connected with them. In a limited capacity, of course.”

  She can hear us.

  Remind me to decide how I feel about this. I’m too tired to think now.

  “Dust motes. You could develop an allergy to them. I noticed the theater was rather dusty. But again, that would defeat the purpose. However, I was bound to make the suggestion.”

  “Bound... as in, you couldn’t help yourself because it’s your duty,” Lexie said, her voice muffled by a cushion again.

  “Precisely.”

  “Interesting. Is there anything you can’t assist me with?”

  “Yes. I can’t help you with anything that might cause you harm or result in putting you in harm’s way.”

  “But... being in the theater is endangering my life.”

  “Correct, but your task takes precedence.”

  “There’s a massive hole in your reasoning but I’m too tired to find it.” She tried to tune out, but her mind wouldn’t let her.

  “There’s someone at the door. Are you up to receiving guests?” Octavia asked.

  “I didn’t hear the buzzer.”

  The door buzzer rang.

  “Let me guess, you can also perceive the arrival of vi
sitors?”

  “Yes. I’ll get it.”

  That’s a neat trick. She’s like a puppy, eager to answer the door. I remember you saying you wanted a puppy, and you got one.

  Peeling an eye open, she saw Octavia sprint to the door.

  “Inspector O’Rourke,” Octavia said, her voice carrying deep admiration, “Please come in.”

  “Call me Grant. No need to stand on ceremony.”

  Jonathan strode in behind him looking none too pleased. His eyebrows drawn down, his shoulders squared into battle ready mode.

  “I thought it would be a good idea to gather the team together and knock about a few ideas,” Grant said in a crisp British tone similar to Mirabelle’s but... friendlier.

  “Because tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough for you?” Lexie groaned and rolled over.

  “Cheer up. I’ve ordered pizza,” Jonathan said and waved a six-pack at her.

  “Cheer up? Say it without growling and I might believe you.” She managed to move her feet just as Jonathan sat down at the end of the couch. “Don’t mind me. Make yourself comfortable. I suppose I shouldn’t complain. After all, it could be worse...”

  Oh, good. We are all here.

  “I spoke too soon.” Two orbs appeared in the middle of the sitting room.

  “Detective Grant O’Rourke. It has been a while. Thank you for making the journey,” Mirabelle said.

  “Am I late,” Catherine chirped.

  “No, you are right on time. Oh, Octavia. Good evening.”

  Lexie would swear Octavia curtseyed.

  “Detective, have you made any headway in the investigation?” Mirabelle asked.

  Grant nodded. “The coroner will find Miss Lucinda Cunningham died of natural causes brought about by a heart attack.”

  “Will find?” Lexie asked.

  “Yes. We need the matter closed. As far as they are concerned, at least. It wouldn’t pay to have the local authorities looking into this any further.”

  “So how exactly did she die? And when? I always assumed ghosts took a while to take shape as in... a newly deceased person would go through stages of disbelief, resentment... negotiation and all that jazz. Like grief. And only once they realized there was no coming back did they find the loophole and transformed themselves into a ghost to roam the earth until justice was done.”