Enchantress' Secret (Hemstreet Witches Book 1)

by Rain Trueax

  The others nodded. “It could be,” her mother said finally. “But why him? When you were there, did you get any such feelings?”

  “Not directly but the very fact, that after the argument there was a strong block put in place, makes me think I was meant to see part but not all of what happened.”

  “It would take a powerful demon to do that,” Elsa said pursing her lips thoughtfully.

  “Or someone empowered by one,” Elke suggested.

  “Maybe if you find out what was behind the girl in Mellow Yellow, it will give you the answer,” Jess said.

  “I hope so.”

  “You need more time with Nick.” Her mother had one of those smiles that had Denali ready to strangle her—figuratively speaking, of course.

  “What would that accomplish?” Elke asked. “I could do it. I think he’s cute also.”

  “No, Denali has the connection.” She looked back at her. “Time with him might let you see more of what could be behind the possibility he’s the real target and for reasons we can’t imagine yet.”

  Denali wasn’t thrilled at the thought of spending more time with him. She already found him way too attractive. But she also feared for him. What if it was an attack on him? The why loomed large. At this point, his being a target of something so diabolical made no sense. True, he was a prime masculine specimen, which made him the perfect sacrifice. Sacrifice for what and by whom? Even more troubling-- what would it take to protect a man who didn’t believe in any of it?

  Chapter Six

  Tuesday, Nick knew he should paint. It was his work, but nothing was coming. He felt like slashing the canvas, with the Bowie knife he carried on his belt, but decided to wait. Maybe it was a phase. When he heard a knock at the door, he was relieved, cleaned his hands, went to the door, and stepped back in surprise. “What are you doing here?” he asked as Pete Coburn stepped inside.

  “Not happy to see me, big brother?” Nick’s tall stepbrother asked.

  “Just surprised. It’s been a while, but hey, come on in. Want a cold beer?”

  “Sure.”

  In moments, they were sitting in the patio and sipping the cold brews. “Is something wrong with Mom?” Nick asked when Pete volunteered nothing for why he was in Tucson.

  “She’s fine. I think she and Rance might be getting a divorce though.”

  “He back to playing around?” Nick asked with a crooked smile.

  “Did he ever stop?”

  “You lived with them and are the one in a position to know.”

  “He has a young girlfriend. My age. Finally Marian had enough, I guess or maybe he wanted the divorce to marry the tramp.”

  Nick considered as he lit a cigarette. Pete sounded bitter. “Do I know her?”

  “Not likely. She was my girlfriend before she decided she could do better.”

  “Too bad.”

  “Lucky for me, not so much for Marian.”

  “She’ll likely come out of it just fine.”

  “I think they had a pre-nup. She won’t get much, if I know my father, and I do. The new girlfriend will need it all if he wants to keep her.”

  Nick shook his head and lit a cigarette. “Life can be ugly.”

  “You’re telling me. I hear you’re doing good on painting.”

  “Where’d you hear that?” He tried to read Pete’s expression but got nothing. So far as he knew, his brother had never had the training of a SEAL, but he apparently had natural attributes for masking his thoughts.

  “I was in Jackson Hole. Saw your paintings there.”

  Nick snorted. “I didn’t know you were into art.”

  “Wasn’t but there was this broad…”

  “Figures.” Nick laughed. “You don’t sound too broke up over Tiffany.”

  “Did I say that was her name?”

  “No, her goal.”

  Pete chuckled “I got off lucky. That’s what I’d say.”

  “You want to stay with me for a while? Is that why you’re here?”

  “I could but no big deal either way. I never really got to know you as I was not even twelve when you took off for the military right after they got married.”

  Thinking through what had been said and not said, Nick studied the younger man. He didn’t know him well. Six years younger meant he was thirty-four. What had he done with the years Nick hadn’t been around? They were related only by marriage and that was soon to be severed. “I’m not in the greatest spot right now, but you’re welcome to crash for a while as you figure out your next step.”

  “Trouble with money?” Pete asked. “I can pay rent.”

  Nick shook his head. “No, not that. The gallery where I show here in Tucson… or did show… had a murder. The police have been questioning me about it. They may be back.”

  Pete didn’t show shock. That said something, as generally people found murder shocking. Who didn’t? Maybe someone who already knew about it.

  “They think you did it?” Pete reached for his own cigarettes.

  “They might.”

  “You were a soldier who killed people. Guess you know how to kill.” Nick looked at him trying to decipher what was behind the comment.

  “You know I was. You didn’t go into the military did you?”

  “Bad enough to have one brother killed going in and another turning into a paid assassin. The family didn’t need another.”

  “And that’s what you think a SEAL is?” He worked to restrain his annoyance.

  “Isn’t it?”

  “No.”

  “But it’s why they’d suspect you.”

  “Maybe.”

  “So, did you?”

  “Think I’d tell you if I had?”

  “You might. Isn’t it how they catch these guys? They tell a friend who wasn’t one.”

  “True, well I didn’t do it, and I think they know that, but you know how they are… or do you?”

  “I haven’t had run-ins with the law if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  Nick was wondering a lot more than that, like why Pete had really come, but before he could ask a question, which might tell him anything, there was a knock at the door.

  He was less than pleased to see it was Denali. She was wearing sandals, cut-off shorts, a shirt tied below her breasts, leaving her narrow waist and flat abs on clear display. He had to force his gaze back to her face. The whole package was about as perfect as they came.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting your work,” she said with a small smile that told him about as much as he’d gotten from his stepbrother. This was not proving to be a good day. He had to force his mind back to what she’d said.

  “No, come on in.” He led her back to the patio. “Denali, this is my stepbrother, Pete Coburn. Pete, this is Denali Hemstreet… a friend.”

  As Pete rose to take Denali’s outstretched hand, he saw the admiration in his eyes. No surprise there. Pete was closer to Denali’s age. Better yet, he didn’t have blood on his hands and had a soul not darkened by death and war.

  “Hi,” Pete said, his smile broad. He was slow in releasing her hand.

  Denali stared at Pete but then turned back to Nick. “I am interrupting. I actually… I needed to talk to you.”

  “Pete is going to be staying here for a while. No secrets.”

  “You sure?” she asked giving him a nervous smile, making him wonder what she was up to.

  “I need to get my gear,” Pete said. “I’m in a Six down on the freeway. I’ll be back tomorrow morning if that’s okay since I already paid for tonight.”

  “Sure.”

  In moments, Nick was alone with Denali. “All right,” he said, “what’s up?”

  She sat in the chair Pete had occupied and twisted her hands together. Clearly, she was edgy. About what? Maybe she knew something more about the murder, something that meant he better be worried. He waited. If he’d learned one thing in his life, it was patience sometimes was essential.

  “I was at my mother’s yeste
rday,” she said finally.

  “Good… I guess.”

  “My grandmothers, sisters-- well, the whole family was there.”

  He took a long drag on his cigarette thinking how many ways she was going to teach him patience as she crossed and then uncrossed those long legs. They were making him think a lot of things better not thought. “Sounds nice,” he said.

  “I guess.”

  “Want a beer?” he asked when she didn’t go on.

  “Yes, that sounds good,” she said. When he came back with it, she looked just as anxious. She took several sips and then looked over at him. “Do you believe in spirits?”

  “Like alcohol?” he asked unsure what the hell she was getting at.

  “Like other beings.”

  He sat back a little. “Ghosts?”

  “And demons… spirits… otherworldly beings.”

  “In a movie fine. Real life, no.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s fantasy, honey. There is this world and that’s it. It’s all biology. When we die, we’re gone. No coming back.”

  She sipped her beer. He could almost feel her thinking. Then he realized he was hearing it in his head. She was trying to convince him of the other side-- but why?

  “All right,” she said rising and putting down her beer.

  “Why is this important to you? You don’t think it relates to the murder, surely.”

  “I don’t?” She walked over to the tall and beautiful bird of paradise. “You like to garden,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Her question reminded him of what his neighbor had said. Somewhere back there the Hemstreets and Cordovas were connected. He wasn’t sure how. “Do you know John Cordova?” he asked.

  “Not well. I think he’s like a fifth cousin or something to my mother.” She smiled. “I am not good at ancestries obviously.”

  “He’s my neighbor.”

  “So your flowers connect to the Yaqui’s five enchanted worlds?”

  “You have a Yaqui education.”

  “A little. Mom does not follow the way… at least not that one. More seatka.”

  “And that is?”

  “A belief some are born with an inner knowing about the other side, the one you don’t believe in.” She smiled and sat back down. “Do you believe in that?”

  “If there is no other side, then no… I instead believe some fool themselves.”

  “Maybe you don’t want to believe.”

  He smiled then. “Maybe not. With the other side, there is punishment isn’t there?”

  “Karma.”

  “You do mix your faiths.”

  She laughed. “You have no idea.”

  “Are we just going to talk around this?” He was having a hard time keeping his mind on whatever the hell she had come to say, when all he could think about was making love to her. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman-- and never one like her. It would be incredibly stupid, but the temptation was strong. Would she say no?

  “I… I guess so,” she said finally. “You don’t seem open to believing in what you can’t actually see or feel.”

  “And you might be too open to it.”

  She forced a smile. “It sometimes is what we are born to be.”

  “And I am born to biology. You to… what exactly?”

  “Mysticism,” she suggested.

  “The Yaqui way. Carlos Castaneda?” He knew his tone sounded ridiculing. It suited what he felt.

  “No, that wasn’t real. More fictional.”

  He laughed then, despite seeing it irritated her. “And your version of this mysticism is not fictional?”

  “I should not have come.” She rose and walked to the door.

  “Probably not,” he said. She turned on the other side of the step and looked back at him.

  “Just… if you find something comes around. That you weren’t expecting to be real, but it feels real…” She hesitated. “Put around you the white light as a protection. Call me if you can’t do that.”

  He saw she meant it. “Look, honey,” he said, trying to make his voice hide what he was feeling, which was the strong desire to pull her back in the house and give her everything her body was telling him she needed. “If I call you, it won’t be for white light.” Her eyes widened. He saw her processing not only his words but his expression. “But it’s not a good time for that right now.”

  “No,” she agreed with a sigh. “I guess not.”

  Watching her walk to her car, h wondered why she had come. Whatever the reason, she hadn’t been willing to tell him. He watched until the BMW turned the corner and was gone. He heard John’s door open, didn’t look but knew the man was crossing the street.

  “She tell you?” the old man asked.

  “What?”

  “She tell you what she wanted?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “She will.” He said no more and walked back to his house.

  Damn mysticism and those who couldn’t live in the real world. Fantasy was for children. Real life was enough to handle. He wondered again about his brother showing up at this time. Coincidence or was something else at work? It didn’t take believing in ghosts to know there was plenty of trouble in the world.

  ><><

  After hours on the office computer, Denali knew more about Pete Coburn but nothing about what had brought him to Tucson. Something nagged at her, but nothing she’d searched for gave her the answer. She had had no better results in finding the identity of the girl who’d appeared at the boutique. She hoped her sisters had better luck at the police station and courthouse.

  Walking into her home, she threw down her keys and headed for the wine bottle. She hadn’t eaten lunch and supposed alcohol on a nearly empty stomach wasn’t smart, but she was feeling pressure and wanted fully to revel in the sunset just beginning.

  Sitting on her small porch, she watched the sky perform its own magic act. The colors went from crimson to burgundy and finally a rich purple. A sunset demanded nothing of her. She could just be in the moment with it. Problems and questions disappeared. She let the changing sky fill her as it stirred all her senses. The fragrances in the air seemed stronger with jasmine in a neighbor’s yard, beyond a cereus cactus, sending out an exotic scent, which would only last the night.

  Sunsets went beyond the colors to a whole cacophony of emotions. It was the end, but the end going out with a bang. There weren’t sunsets anywhere like Arizona’s. She had missed them.

  Sipping wine, she watched as Elke’s car pulled up, and she got out. “Is that merlot?” her sister asked.

  “Close. A blend.”

  “I’ll risk it.” She came back with a glass.

  “Did you get to talk to the girl?”

  “She’d been released.”

  “She seemed a little out of control for that, didn’t she?”

  “Evidently the powers that be didn’t see it that way.” She took the other chair. She looked depressed. “Did you learn anything about who she was?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “The police apparently thought we overreacted to what happened. She appeared totally normal to them. They didn’t bother to fingerprint or photograph her.”

  “Strange.” Denali knew if someone didn’t accept the possibility of possession, they would likely see it as nothing. Possession, unlike drugs, could be turned on and off with the will of the possessor. Whoever had control of the girl, indicated more power than made her comfortable. It wasn’t the girl so much as what had been behind her, in the shadows-- the puppeteer.

  “Frank said the girl claimed she came into shop and we jumped her. He said we’re lucky she didn’t want to press charges.”

  “So they didn’t bother to look beyond?”

  “I know. It makes me suspicious as to what’s going on with downtown.”

  “I suppose we should have gone in last night.”

  “She was released almost instantly and
vanished completely,” Elke said frowning. “What about Nick Beringer? Get any vibes off him?”

  “Nothing new. He has a brother who will be staying with him.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Very attractive, stepbrother and down to visit Nick from the family ranch.”

  “You looked him up too?”

  “I did. Something about him bothered me.”

  “And it was?”

  “No history came to me when I was sitting in the patio across from him. No memories. Nothing.”

  “Didn’t you say Nick was that way too?”

  “He is but it made more sense to me as a trained SEAL. His brother had nothing in his background, that showed up anyway, to indicate that kind of skill.”

  Elke rose with a sigh and polished off her wine. “I am tired of thinking and heading for dinner. Want to come?”

  “No thanks. I have a TV dinner waiting for me and bed. I’m beat.”

  “Put up extra barriers tonight.”

  “I will.”

  The knock at the door was less than half an hour after Elke had left. When she opened it, she was surprised to see Jason Braddock. What the hell was he doing at her home? As a one-time partner of her father’s, she had met him years ago. Since then, it’d been only at a distance as they didn’t travel in the same circles.

  “I should have called,” he said apologetically. He stood an inch or two taller than her, his frame small, almost delicate.

  She debated not letting him in. As a local wizard, one not noted for being particularly concerned from where his powers came, maybe he had come to tell her something. On the other hand, did she want information from someone like him? She opted for the chance of learning something in what increasingly felt like a deadend. “It is a bit late, but it’s all right. What can I do for you?” She showed him into her living room and sat on the chair across from where he sat.

  “I was concerned about the murder, of course.”

  “Were you a friend of Jane’s?”

  “Casually and of course, I frequented her gallery.”

  She decided she had nothing to lose by being direct. “Was Jane a pupil of yours?”