South of Salem (2)

by Janni Nell

  My first thought was, What if there’s no way to stop her?

  Wanda said, “This isn’t going to be easy—”

  “Ya think?”

  “Let me finish. I’m coming to Boston. Can I stay with you at your mom’s?”

  “Of course,” I said with less enthusiasm that you might expect. Not that I didn’t want to see Wanda. I loved her. She was my BFF. But, as a witch, she sucked. It didn’t matter to her clients, because she didn’t charge for her spells and potions. But I knew she wouldn’t be much help with the malhag problem. She was putting herself in danger for nothing.

  “There’s no need for you to fly over,” I said.

  “If you really think that, Al, you don’t realize how serious this is. Not that I think I’ll be much help, but the best witch in the country lives in Massachusetts. We’re going to consult her. I’ve already made an appointment.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Mackenzie Revvan lived outside Boston in a tiny house—more like an English cottage, really—surrounded by an enormous herb garden and the fields of nearby farms. If you didn’t know she was a witch, the house would give it away. I’d bet the local kids dared each other to knock on her door every Halloween. My toe developed a dull itch before we even knocked on her door.

  I had been expecting a slightly less wrinkled version of the malhag but Mackenzie was an elegant woman in her late thirties. She was beautiful in a retro way, with straight brown hair that parted in the middle and hung to her waist. Completing the retro look was a 1970s maxi dress in purple crushed velvet. If I had to sum her up in one word it would be long. Long and slender.

  She greeted us with a cheery “Welcome, ladies,” and ushered us into a small living room with plump chairs, brightly patterned drapes and a cold fireplace. Overlaying the scent of herbs was an aroma of freshly ground coffee and chocolate chip cookies straight from the oven. I’ll go a long way for a choc chip cookie and these were pretty good, although they couldn’t match the ones I’d recently sampled in Loch Furness, which had been made by Scottish elves called brownies.

  Wanda, who likes a good cookie as much as I do, barely ate a bite. In Mackenzie’s presence, she was totally starstruck. Not to mention tongue-tied. It was up to me to make small talk. Since that is my least favorite thing, I bypassed it altogether.

  “Mackenzie,” I began.

  “Call me Mac.”

  Wanda’s eyes opened wide at the familiarity. “Gee, is that okay? I mean, you’re—”

  I went on quickly, hoping to save Wanda an embarrassing memory. “Well, Mac, we’ve got this problem with a mal—” I noticed an enormous brown spider crawling along the purple crushed velvet of her should The creature was as big as my hand, with prominent fangs that were perilously close to Mac’s neck. This woman was my only hope of defeating the malhag. No way was I going to let a spider kill her. Leaping to my feet, I swept it off her shoulder and onto the floor. I raised my foot, preparing to squish it.

  “No!” screamed Mac.

  “It was going to bite you.” I began to lower my foot.

  “Stop!” She lunged at me, pushing me away from the creature. “That’s Orlando.”

  “Don’t tell me,” I guessed. “Orlando is a guy you’ve cast a spell on?”

  Mac shook her head, but since she was kneeling and gently coaxing the creature on to her hand, I wasn’t sure I believed her. Maybe it was a boyfriend who had misbehaved. I wished I was a witch.

  Wanda watched us from a corner of the room. She doesn’t much like spiders.

  “Orlando won’t hurt you,” Mac said. “Come and make friends. He’s my familiar.”

  Wanda edged closer.

  “You can pet him if you like,” offered Mac.

  Wanda reached out her fingers. We’d known each other since childhood and one thing I’d never expected to see was Wanda patting a spider. When Orlando reached out his front legs to “hug” her finger, I knew I could die happy because I’d seen everything.

  Nah, not really…there were plenty more strange things for me to see, and some of them occurred in the very near future.

  When they were done with the whole spider bonding thing and Orlando was again sitting on Mac’s shoulder, I told her about how the malhag a.k.a Demelza Penrose had killed two people during episodes of sleepwalking. “She made Steven crash his car,” I added. Mac listened and nodded.

  When I was done, Wanda said to Mac, “I tried to protect the Hamptons but my spell failed. I’m so hopeless and I tried so hard.” As tears welled in my best friend’s eyes, Orlando left Mac’s shoulder and scurried over to Wanda. He curled up in her lap as though he was offering comfort. Wanda stroked his back and her tears stopped. “Sorry, we’re not here so I can whine. We’re here to learn how to stop the malhag.”

  “Let me get this straight,” said Mac. “After you warded the Hampton family, there was a car accident that resulted in only minor injuries?”

  “That’s right—but then a chandelier fell on SJ and he’s in the hospital.”

  I interrupted. “That might not have been due to the paranormal.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” said Wanda. “My spell should’ve protected him.”

  “At least he’s not dead,” I said encouragingly.

  But Wanda murmured darkly, “Yet.”

  Mac took both Wanda’s hands in hers. “Do you know how exceptionally well you’ve done? Your ward worked. If it hadn’t, Steven and those people in the car would be deadiled. I very impressed. Few witches can cast a spell strong enough to prevent a malhag from achieving her objective. Especially a malhag as powerful as Demelza Penrose must be.”

  “Really?” Wanda looked skeptical. “You’re not just being nice?”

  “No.” Mac smiled. “You did an amazing job. Together, you and I should be able to create a ward that will stall the malhag.” Wanda’s eyes glowed at the prospect of casting spells with her idol. Then Mac cautioned, “But a protective spell won’t stop her.”

  “So tell us what will,” I said.

  Mac took her time answering. Steepling her fingers, she said, with amazing calm given the situation, “At this stage, I don’t know. The first step toward stopping a malhag is to discover the harm that was done to her. Once we understand that we’ll have a better idea of how to proceed.”

  I thought about the diary but didn’t bother to mention it. That could wait until it was found. If it ever was.

  Wanda wound a blond curl around her finger. “This is probably a dumb idea, Mac, but would it help to see the places where Mr. Hampton and Donna Hampton died?”

  Mac thought it an excellent idea and we set off for Donna’s apartment in the city.

  Martin Crain was happy for us to look around, but we didn’t find anything of interest. I wasn’t surprised. Wanda was very disappointed, while Mac remained calm and unemotional. After thanking Martin, we headed out of the city to Ravens Wood, where I was surprised, Wanda was excited and Mac remained predictably calm and unemotional.

  Recent rain had turned the dry leaves soggy. We squelched our way through the wood, ruining three perfectly good pairs of shoes. None of us cared—some things are more important than shoes. Oh yes, they are. Example: visiting the place where Mr. Hampton was killed.

  I’d been there before with Lily, when we’d seen what we thought was Elowyn’s ghost. It wasn’t difficult to find the place again. I just tuned in to my itching toe and looked out for those three claw-like gouges on the tree trunk.

  “There,” I cried when I saw them. “That tree marks the clearing where Barb Johnson found Mr. Hampton’s body.”

  Mac moved forward like a bloodhound on a scent. After prowling around the clearing with Orlando perched on her shoulder, she stopped beside the tree with the gouges. With the patience of a scientist on a field trip, she explored the scarred trunk with her long slender fingers. Then, digging into the fanny pack at her waist, she produced an antique tortoiseshell magnifying glass and took a closer look at the wood. Beckoning Wanda closer, s
he handed over the glass and said, “What do you make of these gouges?”

  “Well…”

  “Don’t be afraid to touch,” said Mac. “Take your time. There’s no need to rush.”

  Oh really? Tell that to the Hamptons. If we didn’t find a way to defeat the malhag, they’d all be dead before too much longer. I folded my arms. My foot tapped impatiently.

  Mac said, “Perhaps you’d like to take a walk arund the clearing, Allegra. See if you can find anything.”

  Okay, I got the message. She wanted space. I wandered around the clearing as she suggested, but since the itching in my toe didn’t increase, it was impossible to home in on anything in particular. Eventually I gave up. Leaning against a tree, I watched the witches whispering about the gouges until I felt something crawl inside my jeans. It started at the ankle and began working its way up. Some kind of bug. I shook my leg, trying to dislodge it. Swatting it would’ve been easier, but I didn’t want squished bug on my leg.

  Over by the gouged tree, I heard Wanda say, “Look I’m not a very good witch and I’m not sure—”

  “Just give me your opinion,” said Mac.

  “Okay.” With a little encouragement Wanda was off. “I don’t think these marks are from any kind of animal, even one created by a witch. It looks to me like they’ve been made by something like lightning. Maybe a witch threw a bolt of magic and it struck the tree.”

  “Excellent,” said Mac.

  By this time I was dancing around, trying to shake the bug loose. It had crawled halfway up my thigh and I was cursing my decision wear baggy jeans.

  Catching sight of my gyrations, Mac asked, “Have you found something?”

  “A bug crawled up my jeans.”

  She sprang to attention. Checked her shoulder. Orlando was gone. She marched over to me. “Orlando. Come out of there right now.”

  The ‘bug’ crawled down my leg and out onto my shoe. Mac snapped her fingers and Orlando scurried back to her shoulder.

  “Sorry, Allegra. Orlando has a thing for women’s legs. Naughty boy,” she said to the spider.

  If he crawled up my jeans again, he was dead.

  Mac and Wanda returned to studying the gouges. Orlando perched on Mac’s shoulder. When he started looking my way, I left the clearing. Hopefully out of sight would be out of mind. I really didn’t want to kill a witch’s familiar.

  The air was crisp and though some might have found it invigorating, I longed for my warm home in San Diego. Once I’d solved this case I promised myself I’d spend a whole day sprawled on the beach. My body ached for sunshine. For now, all I could do was pretend I was anywhere but this damp cold wood. It wasn’t difficult to lose myself in a brilliant daydream of salty air, crashing waves and azure skies. I was imagining savoring the sweetness of peppermint ice cream when someone crash-tackled me. I was lifted off my feet, swept upwards and deposited on the branch of a tree.

  No prizes for guessing it was Casper.

  “That was quite an entrance,” I gasped, struggling to catch my breath.

  “Sorry, I had to be quick. You were heading for a mass of poison ivy.”

  I’d been so absorbed in my daydream I hadn’t seen it. “Thanks,” I said, noticing that his bowtie had come undone as he’d swept me off my feet. “How are the Angel Awards going?”

  “Be serious.”

  “I am. How many ships have hit icebergs recently?”

  “Right. So what is your category? The Barbarian Warrior Award for Protecting a Paranormal Investigator?”

  “Nope. The Sir Galahad Award for Honorable Treatment of Women.”

  I didn’t ask whether he was serious. I could tell by his expression that he was. Curious, I asked, “Who are the other nominees?”

  “Henry the Eighth, Caligula and Jack the Ripper.” When my jaw sagged, he said, “They’ve been working hard to redeem themselves.”

  I snorted. Looked as if Casper was a sure thing. Maybe I should bet on him. If they allowed bets for the Angel Awards.

  “Let me fix your tie. You want to look your best when you collect your award.” As I worked on the black strip of material I leaned backwards too far and almost fell off the branch. Of course he caught me. Of course his arm tightened around my waist. I was close enough to inhale the scent of his Heaven cologne. A delicious mixture of mountain air, bubbling streams, spring blossoms, fresh snow and the ocean at sunset. Soothing and intoxicating. I wanted to sit like this forever.

  His arm was still around me. “Have you got your balance now?” he asked.

  “For the moment, but my balance has always sucked.”

  “No it hasn’t.”

  “I think I’m developing a fear of heights,” I said, hoping he bought it. “Please don’t let me go.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to fall.” He tightened his grip around my waist. “I’d be breaking the guardian angel rules if I let you fall.”

  We sat like that, our legs dangling in midair, until Casper said, “I should be getting back to the awards.”

  “I know.” But we kept sitting on the branch, like a couple of kids, swinging our legs in companionable silence. If I could stay like this forever, I’d give up sunshine.

  “Allegra.” It was Wanda’s voice.

  When I didn’t reply, Casper said, “You’d better answer her.”

  Did I have to? Yep.

  “Coming,” I called. Then, to buy a little more time with Casper, I said, “Give me some privacy, Wanda. I’ve got to pee.”

  But the mood with Casper had been lost. As I finally got around to fixing his tie properly, he asked, “How’s the case going?”

  “At the moment it’s stalled. That’s why I brought Mac and Wanda out here. Thought they might find a clue in the place where Mr. Hampton died.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Casper.

  “What does that mean? Uh-huh there’s a clue here?”

  “It means I understand what you told me. Don’t read anything into it.”

  “Speaking of reading, I wish I could find Steven Twenty’s diary. My gut’s telling me that’s the key to solving this case.” I could’ve used a bit of angelic help finding the diary. But there was no point saying that. Casper couldn’t afford to annoy the Powers-That-Be. He was already treading on thin ice after helping me, however surreptitiously, on the last case.

  Casper yawned and gazed in the direction of Cloud 9. He murmured lazily, “I have a confession to make. When everyone was at Mr. Hampton’s funeral, I had a little wander through his house.”

  The image of Casper, a six-foot-six, golden-haired warrior, having a ‘little wander’ brought a smile to my face.

  Casper looked offended. “I don’t mind a little wander. Especially along that amazing portrait gallery. I was particularly impressed by all the busts.”

  “Well, I guess you knew some of those old Romans.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “They weren’t Romans. They were busts of early Steven Hamptons. The bust of Steven Twenty was particularly fine. You should take a closer look at it.”

  “Allegra,” called Wanda, interrupting us. “Are you alright? That’s an awfully long pee.” Her voice was moving in our direction. She hadn’t seen me yet but she was getting closer by the second. I didn’t want her to find me sitting on the branch with Casper. She might ask difficult questions…like how he’d gotten here without a car.

  “Don’t come any closer, Wanda. There’s poison ivy.” Then to Casper, I said, “Get me down from here.” He lifted me in his arms and jumped off the branch. We glided down, landing some distance from the poison ivy and out of sight of Wanda.

  “Gotta fly,” said Casper.

  “Yeah, I know. The awards.” I met his eyes. Those beautiful eyes that were gold and green and brown like a sun-dappled forest. I wondered whether I’d ever see them again.

  As Casper disappeared, Wanda called, “Come quickly, we’ve found some things in the clearing.” I ran back with her, checking the length of my strides to keep pace with her shorter legs
.

  Mac was waiting for us. Even she couldn’t keep a hint of enthusiasm out of her usually calm voice. “I’ve left everything in situ so you can see exactly where we found it. Wanda, would you like to show Allegra?”

  Wanda nodded, her blond curls bobbing up and down like a team of overexcited cheerleaders. “Gosh, well, over here there’s a clance,” she said, pointing at the ground.

  I crouched down to get a better look at a purple feather that was just like the one I’d seen on the raven. Wanda went on, “It’s not widely known, but when a witch reaches a certain level she’s given a clance. It’s a bit like getting an Academy Award or a Pulitzer Prize or a knighthood from the Queen of England. As two of the great witches, Elowyn and Demelza would each have had one.”

  “But this feather—I mean, clance—couldn’t have belonged to e#8217;t k of the Penrose twins. That would make it four hundred years old, and it’s in good condition.”

  “It’s almost impossible to destroy a clance,” said Wanda. “Pretty much the only thing that can harm one is witchcraft.”

  “Is that why the edge is singed?” I asked.

  Wanda started to answer but Mac interrupted, “We’ll get to that soon, but first—Wanda, show your friend what else we found.”

  Wanda squelched through the leaves until she stopped near an enormous tree root that bulged above ground. Squatting down, she pointed to a tarnished silver chain with a spiral pendant that looked like a flattened snail shell. Some of the links on the chain had melted and fused together.

  “The pendant is a kirican,” said Wanda. “It’s used for protection. Much more powerful than a pentagram.”

  “I’ve seen it before,” I said, pulling my cell from my pocket and pressing buttons until I found the photo of Elowyn’s portrait. “See? She’s wearing it around her neck.”

  Mac came to peer over our shoulders. She handed the magnifying glass to Wanda. “Take a closer look.”

  “Holy shit,” said Wanda. “This portrait of Elowyn has more symbols than The Da Vinci Code.”

  “Yeah I noticed the extra leaf on the background.”