Chapter 9
“Give me your hand?”
“What?” Sotherby pulls a sour face.
“Just humor me, will you? Just give me your hand and look me straight in the eyes.”
“Whatever for?” He scowls.
“The good of the nation. Now, please, just do it. I’ll explain later.” Or never. I stick out my hand.
Sotherby bristles. “I tell you, it gets crazier every day here with you around.”
“I know, isn’t it great? Now, please, just do it.”
He sighs and rolls his ghostly gray eyes. “Fine.” He huffs and sticks out his hand, clutching mine while staring straight into my eyes, and...
Nothing. I exhale.
I look down at his hand and back up to his face, perplexed.
“There, are you satisfied?” he asks.
“No, not really,” I say, slowly removing my hand from his.
“Why? What were you expecting, firecrackers?” He laughs.
“You knew, didn’t you?” I look into his eyes, shinning ash gray under the shimmering light of the massive chandelier that hangs over our heads.
“Knew what?” He looks nervous.
“What I was checking for.” I step toward him.
“What were you checking for?” He steps back, his gaze wide, almost flustered.
“A connection.”
He blushes.
“Oh, not like that,” I say. “Never mind.” I whirl around and head for the door. “You’re not it. That’s all that matters.”
“Not what?” he calls after me as I push out onto the porch.
“Not what I was looking for.” I hesitate, then slam the door shut.
“Take that, old man,” I think I hear him say to himself as I look back at the door.
So, if it’s not in Sotherby, and it’s gone from Jeremy, who is it currently residing in? I pace the floors back home. Or perhaps it bounced back into Jeremy once I Ieft. Who knows what the thing is doing? I sigh. To think, there is another entity, possibly a warlock, even a Druen, present among us, bouncing body to body completely unchecked. It’s unheard of, really. Unprecedented. But for what purpose? I stare. I need to figure that out and fast, before something really bad happens.
Don’t, just don’t, I again hear Jeremy’s warning again in my head. But why, Jeremy, why? Why would I just let another paranormal being roam around inhabiting innocent people, if whatever it is, poses such an ominous threat? I pause.
I don’t care what he says, I need to track this thing down—and now. But how?
I pace. It has to be somewhere, inside someone, lurking about, watching me. I shiver at that thought. But who? And where? And what does it want with me? I tap my chin.
If its goal is to overpower, kill me, or steal me away, it’s had more than ample time and opportunity to do so. So why hasn’t it? It doesn’t make sense. I sigh again. What is it waiting for?
Part of me is very curious to know, while the other part of me is terrified.
What if its goal is to overpower me and drain me of my magic like the ex-Supreme Leader planned? I shudder. Worse, what if it is a dreaded Druen? I can’t let them get this magic.
“Wayne? Donnie? Are you there? Can you hear me?” I shout at the ceiling.
“Yes, boss.” They appear—poof! poof!—beside me.
“Don’t call me boss.” I plead with my eyes.
“Sorry, boss. I mean...” Donnie shrugs. “We were just trying out things to call you.”
“Like I said, Violet will be fine.”
“It can’t be done, miss. It’s considered disrespectful.” Wayne lowers his chin and looks away.
“Who told you that?”
“Elder Rathburn.”
“Of course.” I sigh. “The second thorn in my side, next to Mrs. Dumfries,” I mutter. “Speaking of...” I turn around. “Could you get me audience with her?”
“E-Excuse me?” They both blink.
“Elder Rathburn. Can you arrange for me to have a private meeting with just her, without anyone else knowing?”
They both stare at one another, perplexed. “I guess it could be arranged, why?”
“Because”—I tap my chin, and resume pacing—“I think that old woman is harboring something I need to know.”
Seconds later, I am sitting on a cloud in a very small office, of one of the wings of the main witch’s council room, with Donnie and Wayne perched outside, guarding.
“You asked to see me, your Supreme?” Elder Rathburn, slowly materializes before me—slower than most. I believe it’s her age. She bows her head in respect and keeps her eyes on the cloud floor. Either out of respect or her disdain for me. “How may I be of service to you?” she asks.
“Actually,” I say, rising out of my seat behind my desk, so we are both on a level playing field. I’ve always hated that “lording over little people” thing. “I was wondering...” I step toward her, closing the gap between us. “About the Druens.” She looks up. “How do I spot one?”
Her ancient eyes flash.
Chapter 10
“Please double check that those poles are firmly staked into the ground, will you?” I instruct the grounds crew, pointing toward the flap of the giant red and white candy-striped tent we’ve erected over the old bandshell to accommodate tonight’s magical circus show. I’m told this show is the rival of all shows around. And no, neither I, nor any of my relatives will be performing on stage tonight. This is strictly mortal business. And the finest in the industry, which includes a particularly thrilling knife-throwing act that really packs in the patrons. Or so I’m told.
We spared no expense for the new face of the fair.
The act is billed as being quite death-defying, according to its reviews.
Even I can’t wait to see it.
I’m feeling so much better and more confident about how to handle things now that I spoke to Elder Rathburn—and swore her to crow and coven secrecy. Which means, she crows about anything that was said between us, and she’ll be turned to a pillar of dust and swept from the coven—every witch’s nightmare. I know it sounds rash, but I just couldn’t risk it. I still don’t know if I trust her. But I knew the old woman had something tucked up those old moth-balled sleeves of hers, and I was right. She was harboring valuable battle information. Turns out, she faced a Druen once herself.
No wonder she was so afraid.
It had posed as a love interest, of which she was quite embarrassed to admit being fooled. This, of course, was years and years ago, she explained to me, before they went underground, and before it was fully understood that they’d gone over to the dark side. Or so she tried to convince me. But it turns out, Aunt Kat, Kit, and Cousin Viv had good reason to be concerned.
According to Elder Rathburn, most Druens groom their victims by first presenting themselves as lovers.
They’re also, apparently, not easy to overpower. Most regular witchcraft doesn’t work on them. That’s what makes them so dangerous. They have a deflection spell for everything you throw at them, according to Elder Rathburn. But they can’t withstand one thing, she told me, and she credits that for saving her that day, when she barely escaped from the clutches of one. The Druen would have drained her powers and left her for dead, if not for their chance meeting in the woods where she stumbled across a patch of poppies just prior to meeting him.
She had always loved their deep earthy scent and, thinking it an aphrodisiac, had rubbed it all over her skin, in the soft, delicate places—at the sides and nape of her neck, behind her ears, and at her wrists. Then she’d ingested the seeds, which she’d always loved the mix of their bitter-sweet, smoky nuttiness. From there, she conjured a potion, using both the scent and taste, adding the slightly sweet notes of cocoa, cherry blossoms, and vanilla, to be shared as a drink later between the two of them.
It was the combination of the oil, seeds, and the drink that saved her that day—she’s convinced of it, though she has no proof. In what order or mixture, she cou
ldn’t remember either, only that the unique combination of the three seemed to repel the Druen. First from her neck when he went to kiss her, and then one sip of the drink caused his face to swell and him to gag and choke, and finally unhand her. She has no idea if the potion ended up killing the Druen, only that it disabled him long enough for her to get away, and he’s never returned.
I left it with Elder Rathburn to try and recreate the mixture and get it to me as soon as possible. If I can trust her, it’ll be the only possibly chance I have should I find myself up against one. She can’t hate me that much, right? In the meantime, I’ve also sent my henchmen to the woods in search of poppies. Who knows, it might not even work.
“We’re going to have a lot of acts going in and out of this tent over the next three days,” I say, returning to reality and cautioning the crewman. “So, we want to make sure every last one of these riggings is secure.” I yank on one. “The last thing we need is for there to be a full audience and the tent fall down on them.” I grin. “Can’t have any mishaps, now.”
“Of course not, miss.” One of the workers nods.
That’s all we need, for there to be an accident. “Oh, and please make sure all the trap doors on the old stage up there are in good working order too, please.” I point through the flap smiling. “I understand the knife-throwing act is quite daring and makes big use of them as part of a special trick.” I wink.
“Will do,” he says and tips his cap to me. “I’ll see to greasing them hinges myself.” He smiles, then disappears within the tent flap. I take in a big breath and look around, feeling dwarfed by the size of everything. Not just the big top, but the entire midway. Things are really looking great.
I check my watch. Almost time to open the gates.
“You’re sure your aunt and I can’t perform a little something something tonight, up there on the stage?” Aunt Kit materializes before me, followed by her darling sister. “We so miss our vaudeville performing days.”
“And we promise it’ll be good,” Aunt Kat adds. “Just a few harmless levitation and disappearing tricks.” She bats her eyelashes.
“I’m sure you’d be good, in more than one way, but we just can’t risk revealing ourselves, now, can we?” I smile. “We have an agreement, remember?” I incline my head toward them.
“Of course,” they sing, looking sheepishly aside.
“So, no real magic on the stage tonight, just the harmless, fake stuff.”
“Agreed.” My aunts nod in unison. “Though I do hear there is quite the spectacular knife-thrower performing,” Aunt Kat adds.
“Yes, I’ve also heard.”
“Aunt Kit and I are going to make sure we are in the audience for that one.” Aunt Kat grins.
“I hope to attend it too.” I smile.
“Surely he’ll be using real knives.”
I cast my eyes back toward the box of props behind me that arrived yesterday and are waiting to be wheeled on stage. “They do look rather sharp, don’t they?” I give them a peek, opening the lid to reveal the throwing knives.
“Oh my, do they ever!” Aunt Kat leans over, touching the tip of one.
“However, a promise is a promise.” I drop shut the lid. “No funny stuff now, you two.” I waggle a finger below their chins. “I’m counting on you just to be in attendance tonight, not participants. Promise me you won’t interfere with any tricks, no matter how lame they might appear.”
“Oh, goodness, darling, no. We wouldn’t want someone to get hurt.” Aunt Kat looks indignant, like I’ve insulted her.
“Which reminds me—” I look past them, off across the bustling midway toward the gates. “I might actually need some help tonight.” The gates have not even opened yet, and already there’s a flood of people waiting. “You know, with security,” I whisper. “Knowing what we know and have yet to confirm”—I raise a finger of caution—”about Jeremy, that is, it might not be a bad thing for you two to be on watch. You know, just keep your eyes open for anything strange. He’s been released from the hospital and will be attendance tonight.” I arch my brow.
“Oh, goodwitchness, so soon?” Aunt Kat coos with concern.
“Yes. I thought so, too, but it’s happening. Anyway, will you keep an eye out for anything odd?” My heart buzzes with worry.
“Of course, we will, darling.” They nod.
“Good. I knew I could always count on you two.” I affectionately rub my aunts’ arms, and already I feel myself starting to calm down. Funny how they’ve always had that effect on me.
A flurry of workers rush past, committee members mostly hurrying to put the final touches on things, before it’s time to open the gates.
In spite of everything that’s happened, I still have a fair to pull off. I gulp and look down at my watch. And I’m running out of time. “It’s just about showtime,” I tell my aunts. “And yet so much left for me to check on.” My pulse races. “Would you two be dears and go check on something for me?”
“Certainly, dear. What is it?”
“I’ve received a report that the azaleas in the garden exhibit at the front gates are sagging. And we can’t have sagging azaleas greeting everyone, now, can we?” I grimace, swinging a hardy fist across my middle.
“And what would you like us to do if we do find them sagging?” Aunt Kat asks.
“Why, perk them up with water of course. Or by whatever means.” I smile and jerk my head to one side.
My aunts stare at me.
“And yes, that means you have my permission to use magic...you know, just a little.” I pinch my fingers, showing them. Considering the time factor, what other solution is there? I gulp. “Just don’t let anyone see you!”
“All right, dear.” Aunt Kat waves, then links arms with her partner in crime. “Oh, goodie, goodie!” The two of them giggle as they race away.
What have I done?
“And do be discrete, now! And only in moderation!” I holler after them.
“Always in moderation, darling.” Aunt Kit blows me back a kiss. I watch as the two of them titter their way to the front gates, and I worry I’ve done the wrong thing.
“Too late now to take it back.” I exhale. “Oh, well...what’s a little magic on a magical evening, right?” I shrug and turn around. “Now, on to more pressing matters.” I hug my organizational clipboard to my chest and continue making my rounds. The last thing I need is for something to go wrong tonight. Then I’ll have two committees on my back.
I check the magical circus tent again, heading around to the back. It’s the first show of the evening, as is to start in less than an hour...and there’s no ticket box out front. I exhale. And I see the benches still need to be arranged inside. I stick my head in through the back flap. Is there anybody working here?
So much to do, in so little time, and so much responsibility. I fret, biting my lower lip, and look around. Where are those workers?
I’m about to duck my head in under the back flap again when I smell something strange coming from the midway. I follow the smell back around to the front, and see a man in a black cape, pants, and bowler hat pulled down over his eyes making his way through the crowded midway at quite the speed. He’s exceptionally tall and wire thin.
Now, who could that be?
I squint, trying to get a better look. But he slithers through a hole in the crowd and escapes me. Drabbits!
Wait a minute. All the other workers are dressed in plaid shirts and jeans. They all come from the same company. Was he a vender perhaps? Or a performer already dressed?
But already? I look down at my watch, then lurch up onto my tippytoes, searching for him. But the man is gone.
Vanished.
Disappeared.
As if into thin air.
That’s strange...
Then I see him pass again. Far off in the distance, in the opposite direction. But this time I don’t smell him, just see him. I look both ways, where I saw him before, and just now.
That’s not even
possible to cover that much ground, is it?
“Everything all right there, Violet?” Hartley, a member of the fair’s planning committee, stops from strolling past, reading the concerned look on my face.
“Fine,” I say. “I think.” I think better of that. “Actually...” I reach out to him as he’s walking past, carrying a fat bolt of sparkly metallic fabric slung over his shoulder. “Do you know anything about a very tall man dressed all in black with a bowler hat? Is he part of the crew or perhaps a hired performer? I hadn’t noticed a very tall man at any of our committee meetings, and I don’t think he’s a volunteer.” I blink in the direction he disappeared. Why do I suddenly feel my senses rising? My heart thrums steadily in my chest, and my palms begin to sweat.
“I can’t really say,” Hartley says, and I turn back to face him. “Why? Someone here fit that description?” He studies where I am looking. “Someone you need me to run off the place?” His head twists this way and that.
“No. I don’t think so. At least not yet. But it wouldn’t hurt to check into him. If you wouldn’t mind.” I drop back down onto flat feet. “I’m just curious to know who he is, you know?”
“Of course, who wouldn’t?” Hartley says.
“So, you would you mind checking around and see what he’s up to?”
“Certainly.” He smiles. “As soon as I deliver this material to the palm reader’s hut.”
“Of course,” I say. “Can’t have her without her sparkly bits.” I touch the fabric and smile, quelling my concern. At least, momentarily.
Hartley hauls it higher on his shoulder, then beefs up his chest while yanking his jeans up his hips. “Where’d you see him last?”
“He went that way.” I point in the strange man’s general last direction. Before he vanished, that is.
“Copy that.” Hartley nods as if he’s part of a police force, then turns and is off. “Oh, and, Hartley.” I stop him. “Do you mind reporting back to me what you find?” My voice shakes.
“Certainly.” He smiles, again, then looks at me strangely. “You expecting foul play?”
Abracastabra (Hex Falls Paranormal Cozy Mystery # 4) (Hex Falls Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series) Page 6