South of Salem (2)

by Janni Nell

  “That’s just a flaw in the wallpaper. The symbols I’m talking about are that.” She positioned the magnifying glass over the portrait so I could see Elowyn’s earring. “You see that tiny crest above the amethyst? It’s the crest of the Penrose witches.” Next she pointed to Elowyn’s fingers. The tip of her left little finger was bent at an odd angle, which looked like a badly healed break or an artist’s mistake. Wanda convinced me it was neither. “It’s a casting bend—a kind of witch’s repetitive stress injury from casting spells. Only the most powerful witches get them.”

  I immediately glanced at Mac’s little finger. Her casting bend wasn’t as pronounced as Elowyn’s, but it was there. Wanda hadn’t developed one yet.

  “And then,” continued Wanda, looking through the magnifying glass, “there’s the kirican around her neck. And that clance concealed in the petals of the violet on the wallpaper.”

  “The portrait was painted after Elowyn’s death by her husband, Steven Twenty,” I said. “He must’ve known she was a witch.”

  “Not necessarily,” said Mac. “To Steven Twenty these things were probably nothing more than Elowyn’s possessions. No one who knew about witches would be so blatant. Remember, witches really hate having their photos taken. In Elowyn’s day, a portrait would’ve been like a photo. If Steven Twenty knew she was a witch, he wouldn’t have painted her. Not if he respected her wishes.”

  “What if he didn’t respect her wishes?” I mused. “What if he discovered she was a witch and killed her? Demelza would be sure to want revenge for the death of her sister. But if that were the case, why did Demelza wait until the twenty-first century to seek revenge? She could have killed Steven Twenty back in the sixteen hundreds.”

  “Good point,” said Mac. Turning to Wanda, she asked, “Based on the evidence in this clearing, what do you think happened?”

  Wanda chewed on her thumbnail, lost in thought. Finally she said, “Elowyn was wearing the kirican, so I guess she believed she was in some kind of danger. It probably caught up with her here.” Wanda moved to the tree with the gouges and ran her hand over the scarred bark. “I think these were made by bolts of magic—very powerful magic, since they’re still fresh after hundreds of years. I guess Elowyn was trying to defend herself.”

  “From what?” I asked.

  Wanda shrugged. “Don’t know.” She turned to Mac. “Have I missed something?”

  “No,” said Mac, bending to retrieve the clance and the kirican. She put them in a little drawstring bag and suggested we leave the wood. Apparently, in her opinion, there was nothing else to find here.

  Back in Mac’s cottage, we drank herbal tea and thawed out beside the open fire. We talked about the case for a while but soon we reached a dead end and Mac changed the subject by offering to mentor Wanda.

  My friend bounced up and down on her chair like an excited puppy. “Really?” she squealed. “You want to mentor me?”

  “If you find the conditions acceptable. First, you should know that my students always live here. It’s easier to study without distractions. Could you agree to that? There’s no boyfriend who might object?”

  Wide-eyed with delight, Wanda shook her head. If there had been a boyfriend, she’d probably have walked out on him rather than miss this opportunity.

  “When can we start?” asked Wanda.

  “Not so fast,” said Mac. “Second, you must be prepared to make a commitment of at least three years.”

  Wanda’s face fell. “But I’ll have to move out of the flat in San Diego. I can’t leave Allegra—”

  “Yes you can,” I said. “This is too good an opportunity to miss.”

  “You really don’t mind?” asked Wanda cautiously.

  “Actually, this has come at a good time. I was getting a bit tired of San Diego.” Not true. So not true. But I didn’t want Wanda to feel bad about accepting Mac’s offer. Yeah, I know I could have gotten another roommate, but not one as understanding and trustworthy as Wanda, which was essential when I was away so often.

  “Where will you live?” asked Wanda. “Will you move back in with your mom and Steven?”

  I snorted. “Can’t see that happening.” Although I planned on asking them to store some of my stuff—only what I couldn’t bear to part with—the rest would end up in a garage sale.

  Wanda hugged me. “You’ve been a great roommate.”

  I laughed. “Only because my cases have taken me away so often.”

  She hugged me tighter. “You know that’s not true. I’ll help you clean the place out, of course. The rent’s paid to the end of the month, so we’ve got time.”

  I felt as if I had no time at all, what with sorting out the problem of the malhag and dealing with my feelings for Casper when I might be losing him forever at any given minute.

  “Can I ask a favor?” said Wanda. “I know under the circumstances I don’t really have the right—”

  “Great gremlins,” I said, using her favorite expression, “ask whatever you want.”

  “I’d like to start studying with Mac straight away. Would it be okay if I don’t go back to Boston with you?”

  “Not a problem. I’ll bring your stuff here.” When Wanda started to protest, I said, “It’s not out of my way, I’ll be passing by when I visit Steven.”

  She hugged me again. “You’re wonderful, Allegra. My BFF.”

  After leaving Wanda with Mac, I drove to Lily’s place. There was no answer to my first knock or my second louder knock or my third frantic hammering. Had something happened? Maybe she’d fallen. I was checking out the windows, wondering whether to smash one and break in when her neighbor, Jerry Bowfield, a retired dentist, called out from his front yard, “Lily isn’t home. She went to the hospital.”

  “To have the baby?”

  “To visit SJ,” he said, coming over to the neatly trimmed hedge between the houses. “Terrible about his accident. My wife and I are praying for him.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Jerry waved and headed back to his house. I wondered what Lily expected me to do until she returned home. Sit outside? I was seriously considering breaking in when Jerry returned to the hedge. “I almost forgot. Lily left a key for you.” He dug in his pocket and handed it over.

  As I climbed the steps to her front door, I wondered why Lily hadn’t called my cell and told me she’d be at the hospital. Probably didn’t want to talk to me. Figured.

  After leaving my muddy shoes outside, I padded around the house in my socks, turning on the heat and drawing drapes to keep in the warmth. Evening shadowed the rooms, but I didn’t turn on the light. I sat in the dark, hugging my knees, hoping SJ wouldn’t die. Not that he was on my list of favorite people or anything. But I didn’t want Lily’s baby growing up without a father.

  I called Lily’s cell but she wasn’t answering. Then I called the hospital and they told me SJ’s condition was unchanged. I prowled around the house, somehow resisting the impulse to go through Lily’s stuff. Imagine her coming home and finding me poking into her antique armoire or her bedside table. I don’t think so.

  When I got hungry I ordered pizza and then flicked on the radio to amuse myself while I waited for it to be delivered. I was dancing to “Sex on Fire” when the pizza guy arrived. Just as well the front drapes were drawn so he couldn’t see my bump and grind.

  I paid the guy and flopped on the sofa with my dinner, feet on Lily’s coffee table. Mmm, pizza. I’d eaten half of it when I heard her car in the driveway. I leaped off the sofa, dashed to deposit the pizza box on the kitchen counter, and then dashed back to brush crumbs under the rug. When Lily walked in, I was sitting at the kitchen counter, using a plate to catch my crumbs, nibbling as daintily as Princess Perfecta, the second daughter of the Queen of the Fairies.

  Lily took one look at my pizza and began fanning the air in front of her face. “That stinks. Get rid of it before I puke.” She scowled at me when I put it in her fridge, but I refused to toss it in the trash and she was too tired
to protest.

  She flopped into a chair. “Good news. About an hour ago, SJ regained consciousness.” It must have been right after I called the hospital to check on his condition. Lily went on, “His prognosis is quite good, but he won’t be coming home just yet. So—um—I really hate to ask, but would you mind staying the night? I know you’d prefer to be at Mom’s and frankly I’d prefer that too—”

  “Gee, and I thought you wanted the pleasure of my company.”

  “I’m thinking of the baby,” she snapped. “If it comes early—”

  “Well,” I drawled, “I’m not sure about staying here. Mom asked me to look after her place, so I really should be there…” Okay, I was teasing, but Lily deserved it after hinting that she only wanted me here in case she went into labor.

  “For Pete’s sake, Allegra, if you don’t want to sleep over, just say so.”

  “Well…I suppose I can stay—on one condition.” I wasn’t going to make this easy for her. “Tell me what you plan to call the baby.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Steven Richard Hampton XXXIV. Everyone knows that.”

  “No one knows what you plan to call a girl.”

  She sighed. “Everyone’s determined it’ll be a boy.”

  “I’ll bet you’ve got a girl’s name picked out. Don’t deny it. I know you, Lily. Always well organized.”

  “Promise you’ll stay with me if I tell?”

  “Yep.”

  “Swear it.”

  I put my hand over my heart. “I swear.”

  She knew I’d never go back on my word so she said, “Daisy Rose Lily.”

  “Really?” I thought she was kidding.

  “Don’t you like it?”

  “It’s very—um—floral.”

  “I like flowers.”

  Well, I quite liked flowers too. (Except for the Dedfield Rose, a nasty prickly plant, which predicted disaster and had featured strongly in my last case in Scotland.) But no matter how much I liked normal flowers, I wouldn’t name a chil after three of them. Still, I guess it was better than calling a kid Grapefruit or Rocket Scientist.

  Lily eased herself onto the chair beside me. “I feel like shit. You know what? I’m so bored of eating healthy food. I’d kill for some pizza.”

  I laughed, thinking she was kidding.

  “Will you heat it up for me? I’m too tired to move.” When I answered with another laugh, she said, “I’m not joking. I want that leftover pizza.”

  After warming it up for her, I watched in amazement as she devoured every last mouthful. “Mmm. That’s better.” After a glass of milk she lumbered upstairs calling down to me. “You can sleep in the guest room. Do you want to borrow pajamas?”

  “No, I’m good.” They’d be way too short for me anyway. I slept in my shirt and underwear, which turned out to be a sensible decision.

  It was two in the morning when I suddenly awoke. Everything seemed quiet and yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong. Flinging back the covers, I jumped out of bed and trotted down the hall to Lily’s room. The drapes were drawn and it was too dark to see her clearly. Careful not to wake her, I tiptoed across the room. By this time my eyes had adjusted to the deeper darkness and when I reached her bed, I saw it was empty.

  “Lily?” I snapped on the bedside lamp, hoping she was in the bathroom. I mean, she claimed her bladder had shrunk to the size of a pea. She probably spent half the night in her gorgeous ensuite bathroom. I trotted over and knocked. “Lily, you in there?” When there was no answer, I opened the door and flicked on the light. Empty.

  “Lily!” I called loud enough to be heard in the yard. “Where are you?” Still no answer.

  I hurried downstairs, hoping she needed a midnight snack, but the kitchen was dark and Lily-free. It was also very cold, as if there was a door open letting in the frosty night air. I knew even before I got there that I’d find the front door wide open.

  I ran outside. The streetlights revealed a deserted lawn scattered with fallen leaves. I dashed onto the sidewalk, looking up and down the quiet suburban street, but there was no heavily pregnant woman wandering around in an oversized nightgown. Operating on gut instinct, I sprinted down the street. There was no good reason to assume Lily had gone left instead of right, but given the episodes of sleepwalking amongst the Hamptons it wasn’t such a stretch to assume she was wandering around like a lost zombie. Not that Lily was a Hampton by blood. But her baby was. If Lily ended up as collateral damage, I didn’t think the malhag would be too upset.

  I pounded the sidewalk calling Lily’s name, not caring if I woke everyone within earshot, hardly aware that my feet and legs were bare and freezing.

  At the first cross street I looked up and down. No cars. No people. And no Lily. Once again operating on gut instinct, I turned left, jogging along and shouting her name but receiving no answer. Bugger.

  A stitch stabbed my side. I was out of breath and out of luck, but I kept going. Ran until the pain was unbearable. I stopped to suck in air, pressing my palm against my aching side. The deep boom of a truck came from the freeway several blocks away. At thise of night it was favored by eighteen-wheelers heading toward the interstate, taking advantage of the clear road to build up speed.

  I’m a fast runner but I’d never moved as fast as I did to reach that freeway in record time. At first I couldn’t see Lily. Instant relief. Maybe she’d just gone for a walk around the block. At that very moment she might be back at the house. I reached for my cell to call her, forgetting I’d left the house wearing only my underwear and a shirt. Should I go back to the house? Had my gut instinct that Lily was sleepwalking been way off course?

  I was torn. Go back? Keep looking? It was the screech of tires that led me to her. She was wandering across the freeway, weaving back and forth as though she was drunk. When an SUV caught her in its headlights, she stopped dead and stared at it like the proverbial rabbit. Unmoving. Frozen.

  “Get out of the way!” I screamed. Lily didn’t move but the SUV swerved at the last moment, missing her by inches.

  She shuffled a few steps toward the middle of the road. Another horn blared. She didn’t seem to notice. Didn’t seem to hear. Definitely sleepwalking.

  I sprinted along beside the freeway until I drew even with her, then dashed onto the asphalt. It wasn’t difficult to avoid the trucks if you were athletic and wide awake, but pregnant and sleepwalking you were as vulnerable as a newborn.

  I ran toward Lily, waving my arms to herd her off the freeway. “Go back.”

  She cocked her head like a dog that hears a sound it can’t understand. Then, instead of moving to the edge of the freeway, she turned away from me and waddled toward the middle. I went after her, slowly, trying not to spook her into darting in front of traffic.

  Each time I edged closer, she picked up speed and changed direction. I could no longer predict which way she’d turn. She moved without logic or conscious thought. My only chance was to grab her and haul her off the road. I was positioning myself for a quick sprint and grab when the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler appeared in the distance.

  “Lily!”

  She didn’t even cock her head. The only chance of saving her was to throw her over my shoulder in a fireman’s lift. But I hadn’t allowed for her pregnant belly. No way could I get her over my shoulder. I tried lifting her in my arms but she squirmed and wriggled free.

  The driver of the eighteen-wheeler hit the brakes. Tires screeched long and loud. The boom of its horn filled my ears.

  They say you shouldn’t wake a sleepwalker but this was an emergency. I slapped her cheek hard. “Come on, Lily. Move!”

  She blinked in the glare of the huge headlights. The eighteen-wheeler wasn’t going to stop in time. The driver tried to change lanes but he was going too fast. The truck skidded out of control, flipped on its side and slid toward us. I tried to shove Lily out of the way, but my shove was too hard and she fell to her knees in the path of the sliding vehicle.

 
“Get up! Get up!” I looped my arms under hers and tried to pull her to her feet. The truck slid toward us. No way to stop it. Or get out of the way. We were dead. Both of us. And the baby.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The first thing I saw were sparkling bobble sprites dancing in front of my eyes. Bobble sprites are a bit like miniature fairies. Most of the time they’re invisible—you can only see them after you’ve bumped your head or fainted.

  Once the bobble sprites disappeared, I noticed the white light. A long tube of it slicing the darkness. Shining right in my face. I wondered whether I was dead. Nope, probably not, because (a) I was lying on my side, cheek pressed against dirt. I figured death would be more comfortable, and (b) the tube of light was shining horizontally along the ground, so it wasn’t coming from Heaven.

  Actually, it was coming from one of the truck’s headlights. For an awful moment I thought the vehicle was still sliding toward me but it was stationary, slumped on its side like a giant slug. I relaxed and took stock of my body. Nothing hurt. Legs, arms, fingers and toes all moved normally. Even more surprising was that I didn’t have any grazes, bruises or cuts. Not even on my bare legs. Apparently Casper had arrived in time.

  “How’re you feeling?” he asked, kneeling beside me.

  “Not too bad.”

  “Excellent. I got you out a nanosecond before the truck hit.”

  “That can’t be right. I felt the truck against my shoulder. And I’ve been unconscious, haven’t I?”

  Casper avoided answering my question but he did admit in a kind of sheepish voice, “The truck might have brushed against you, but I got to you before it did any serious damage. You don’t even have a bruise, do you?”

  “No,” I admitted grudgingly, “but I was unconscious. Explain that.”

  “You couldn’t have been. The truck didn’t hit your head. Probably you fainted.”

  Folding my arms, which isn’t easy when you’re lying on your side, I said, “I. Don’t. Faint.”