ATwistedMagick

by Shara Lanel

  “Was Mercedes in the school play?” Gabe remembered the teachers talking about Glee Club.

  “A Streetcar Named Desire,” Eva said. “She was in this summer drama program. I wondered if it was too grown-up for her, but she loved every minute of it.”

  “Was the play open to anyone?”

  “Yes. It was in Richmond.”

  Gabe then questioned her about the name of the program, the director, etc. He didn’t know if a summer program meant anything, but he did wonder why Wann seemed so enthralled with the picture. The man moved on to look at other pictures, probably eavesdropping at the same time. Porter seemed to be listening, but he had a glazed Eeyore expression on his face.

  “Did Mercedes have a boyfriend?” Gabe asked.

  “Sort of. We’d told her she was too young to date, but David is a family friend so we never minded the two of them doing things together.” Eva dabbed a tissue at the corner of her eye. “Mercedes told me a few weeks ago that they were now officially boyfriend and girlfriend, but she assured me they were keeping things casual. I didn’t tell her dad.”

  The sound of a frame falling over had everyone turning to look at Wann. “Sorry,” he mumbled as he straightened the picture back up on the mantle.

  Hain held her pen poised over her notebook. “I’ll need his full name and address.” Gabe wrote down the information as well, but he didn’t want to step on Hain’s toes by talking to the boy before she did. He noticed that Wann left without a word to Porter, so perhaps they hadn’t driven together. The glum teacher seemed startled that Wann had left him, but he passed along hugs before he too left.

  Eva seemed tired and Angela was insisting she take a nap.

  Gabe stood up, legs stiff from sitting on the low couch. “Angela, do you need a ride home, or are you staying awhile longer?”

  “Eva, do you want me to stay?” Angela reached out her hands, which Eva gripped then released.

  “No, you’ve been so kind to come over. I think you’re right about the nap.”

  Angela nodded. “A nap will help, but you know you can talk to me anytime. I understand what you’re going through.” Her eyes took on a familiar sadness.

  “Thank you.”

  Gabe wrapped his arm around his cousin’s shoulders and led her out of the house. Hain followed. None of them spoke. What was there to say?

  * * * * *

  After a couple of hours shadowing Hain on interviews and feeling like he was stepping on her toes, Gabe decided to check back in with Shylah. Just thinking about her brought a smile to his lips. On the drive over, he even entertained the idea of having a quickie before getting back to his job…if she agreed, of course.

  Instead, he got out of his car and frowned at the strange car in her drive. It was a black Pontiac, Louisiana plates, with two bumper stickers on the back. The first read “Coexist” in a multitude of religious symbols. Gabe had seen that on many cars, but the second one was more telling. It read “An it harm none, do what ye will” with bright reflective pentagrams behind the words. Painted on the gleaming black backseat was a seven-pointed star with strange letters around it. From the front mirror hung an ankh, an Egyptian symbol that Gabe remembered from some History Channel show, and a tied-up piece of cloth like the one Shylah had hung in her windows. The cloth was black, the tie leather, and there seemed to be a feather sticking out of the top. What on earth was that for? More importantly, who the hell owned this car and why were they visiting Shylah?

  Once he knocked, the first thing he heard was the sharp bark of a dog, Shylah’s voice telling it to shut up and a male voice saying, “I’ve got it.” When the door opened, a man and a dog, a giant black dog, blocked the view to the interior of the house and snarled. Yes, the man snarled too, his pierced lip turned up in distaste. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Gabe. I’d like to speak to Shylah, please.” He wanted to ask her if she’d gone crazy to let someone like this into her house, and why didn’t she make him put the damn dog out back? He liked dogs, but this one had hanging jowls and lots of drool. He suspected he knew who this man was just from Shylah’s descriptions in her BOS.

  “I’m coming,” Shylah said from somewhere in the background. The strange man was sizing him up, so Gabe returned the favor. The man seemed a bit younger than him, same height, but scrawny like the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz. Tight black jeans, chunky black work boots—shiny like his car seats—and a black t-shirt from a concert tour, the band Thoth something or other. But the things that would make him stand out like a spotlight were his tattoos. There was one below his eye, tiny symbols, one around his neck, and his arms were completely covered.

  The man-cum-museum-piece crossed his arms over his chest. “You didn’t answer my question. Who are you?”

  “That’s Shylah’s business, since this is her house.” Gabe was debating whether to knock the man or the dog in the kisser so he could get inside.

  Luckily, Shylah came up behind the dog, snagged his collar and hauled him away from the door, straining to hold on to him, since she was barefoot and petite and the dog looked like Sasquatch. Huffing, she shouted, “Alain, put the dog out back.”

  The tattooed man turned toward her. “You know this man?”

  “Of course I do. Take the damn dog.”

  So this was the high priest, Shylah’s previous lover. Shit.

  As soon as Alain took the dog from Shylah, Gabe stepped fully into the house and grabbed her upper arms. “What is he doing here?”

  “He’s just visiting for a bit.”

  “Out of the blue? I thought he lived in New Orleans.”

  “He does.”

  “When did he get here? Did you know he was coming?”

  “He said he drove all night. He got here a little while after you left to talk to Eva. Don’t you think I would have mentioned it if I had known?”

  “I don’t know—are we at that point in our relationship?” Gabe pulled her closer and lowered his voice. “He’s a murderer.”

  “First you thought I was the murderer.”

  Gabe spotted Alain peeking out of the kitchen to watch the byplay, so he lowered his voice even more. “He murdered Wanda Nance.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “You wrote about it in your Book of Shadows.”

  “I did not.” But her voice had grown quieter, shakier.

  “Not in so many words, but if you compare the evidence with some of the things you wrote in your journal…he’s the one.” He hadn’t been so sure before, but seeing the man, he knew. “I trust my gut.”

  “You’re saying he murdered Lalia and Matthew, too? How? He wasn’t even in Virginia at the time. And my gut has known him longer than yours.”

  Gabe sighed. “I’ve still got to pin down some facts.”

  Suddenly Shylah smiled. “I know what this is. You’re jealous!” She shrugged her shoulders a little to remind him that he still gripped her arms.

  He let go of her and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not jealous of someone like that!” Well, he wouldn’t have been if he didn’t know all the things Shylah had done with him. He wouldn’t have considered him competition at all, but old lovers sometimes fell back into old habits. He’d followed enough cheating spouses on the job to know.

  Shylah’s smile left abruptly. “Why, because he’s a witch?”

  “No, because he’s scrawny!”

  “Hey!” Alain started to march across the room, but Shylah stopped him with a raised finger and a glare.

  * * * * *

  Shylah bit her lip as she turned back to Gabe. She wanted to burst out laughing. She’d taken offense that he was judging Alain because he was a witch, but she couldn’t fault him for calling him scrawny. Compared to Gabe, he was scrawny. She’d never noticed it in the past, partially because as high priest his personality and charisma had been amplified, but also because they had both been younger and she hadn’t had much to compare him to. But Gabe’s biceps bunched as a result of his tightly crossed
arms. He had broad shoulders and his muscles filled out his clothes quite nicely. More than that, when he’d gripped her arms, even though he’d been mad at her, she’d felt an immediate zing of arousal. She wanted to tell Alain to get lost so she could seduce Gabe in the solarium again.

  “Now, would you like to behave like an adult and meet my old friend properly or do you want to get lost?” she asked sternly while secretly wanting to kiss his sweet face.

  Gabe leaned in and whispered in her ear, “You’re not going to sleep with him, are you?” She heard uncertainty in his voice.

  “No. That’s long over.”

  “Okay then…I guess.”

  She gestured Alain over. “Alain, this is Gabe Niguel. He’s a private investigator.” She hadn’t told her old mentor anything about the murder investigations yet. “Gabe, Alain was the high priest of Black Waters coven, the one I was in while in New Orleans.” Of course, he already knew that, but she didn’t want Alain to know that Gabe had read her BOS.

  The men shook hands, but the atmosphere remained tense. Shylah went to sit on the couch.

  “So are you investigating something in particular?” Alain asked, claiming the remaining space on the couch.

  Gabe raised his eyebrow and Shylah knew it was a question for her. She nodded. Alain would find out sooner or later if he stayed more than a day.

  “I’ve been investigating the murder of my cousin and two more teens.” He sat on the chair across from them.

  “Your cousin? That’s terrible.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “How long have you known Shylah?” Alain asked. He stretched out his legs casually, so that his knee touched hers.

  “Not long.”

  Shylah crossed her legs, making herself smaller on the couch. “He’s from California, but his cousins live here.”

  “Have you found the killer?”

  “Not yet, but I will.” Shylah was sure by the tone of his voice that he meant that as a warning, but Alain didn’t seem to take notice. “So when exactly did you arrive in Virginia?”

  “I drove through the night, slept at a rest area for a bit this morning. Didn’t want to show up on Shylah’s doorstep too early.”

  Thank God, since he would’ve encountered Gabe and the police. Shylah doubted that would have gone well. This conversation was painful enough. She’d asked Alain how he’d found her and why. He said he’d had a vision that she was in danger, so he’d searched for her on the internet then drove up as fast as he could. She’d asked why he hadn’t called to give her the heads-up and he’d said he’d just wanted to get here before anything happened to her. That explanation was weak, since he could’ve called her from the road on his cell phone. Shylah had the feeling he hadn’t wanted to give her the opportunity to tell him to stay home. And when he’d greeted her like an old friend, she’d felt obligated to invite him to stay with her. What hadn’t been settled in the brief time he’d been there was for how long. Shylah needed to overcome the sense of loyalty and obedience she’d felt for him when he’d been her high priest and tell him if he planned to stay in town longer than a day he needed to get a hotel room. Why did she feel that was going to be hard to do?

  “Gabe, how was Eva?” She didn’t really want to go into the murders in front of Alain, but she really wanted to know how the teacher was doing. She couldn’t imagine the pain of losing a child.

  “She was holding up, but the reality might not have settled in yet. Angela was there to console her since she went through the same thing.”

  Shylah nodded. “That’s good. She’ll know that at least one person isn’t just offering her platitudes.”

  “Eva’s your cousin?” Alain asked.

  “No, Angela is.” Gabe’s expression hardened. “Eva’s daughter was murdered last night. So how long do you plan to stay in town?”

  “I don’t know yet. I just felt that Shylah needed me.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Shylah tried to cover Gabe’s snarky comment by rushing to say that she was just fine. “I don’t need anyone watching out for me. Is your boss expecting you back soon?”

  “I’m between jobs, so no worries on that score. I’ve been considering a career move anyway.”

  “And what is your career?” Gabe asked.

  “Tourism.” He’d told Shylah that he’d been giving ghost tours at night and taking classes during the day, so saying that tourism was his career was stretching it a bit.

  An awkward silence developed. There was more Shylah wanted to ask Gabe about the investigation and she really liked just sitting here looking at the man’s strong jaw and sexy eyes, but too much looking had her fidgeting and wishing she could crawl into his lap and beg him to touch her all over. She tried to turn off any of those thoughts since she didn’t want Alain to catch on, but when she glanced at him and saw his thoughtful expression, she realized it was too late.

  Gabe’s phone beeped. He pulled it out, looked at the text and stood up. “I’ve got some interviews to do.”

  Shylah rose to her feet as well. “Okay.”

  “Walk me to the door?”

  It wasn’t like the door was that far away, but she complied. Once there she asked in a low voice, “What was the text about?”

  “Autopsy results. I need to call Hain to get the details.”

  “It’s nice she’s sharing with you. Aren’t cops usually territorial?”

  “I think she feels guilty that she didn’t find the culprit soon enough to prevent another murder. I feel the same way. I think she’ll take any help she can get and that means sharing information.” He opened the front door, stepped out, then tugged her after him. “Look, I’m worried that your card and fingerprint were found at the scene. Maybe they were just put there to deflect attention, but this means he knows you and was at your booth at some point.”

  “Are you sure it’s a he now?”

  “There was a rape involved this time, so it seems very likely.”

  “Oh poor Eva.”

  Gabe nodded. “And I really don’t like that Alain turned up at this time. I mean it’s weird, even if he has an alibi for when Matthew and Lalia were murdered.”

  “How do you know he had an alibi?”

  “I checked on it.”

  “How did you do that?”

  “New Orleans cops.”

  Shylah was shocked, though it made sense that Gabe would do a thorough background on the Wanda Nance murder while he considered Shylah a suspect. She just didn’t realize he’d checked out Alain too.

  “I asked about everyone in your coven. The only one the NOLA cops had lost track of was you. They’ve been keeping tabs on the rest since that murder still has not been solved.” He peeked back inside to see if Alain still sat on the couch. “So no, I don’t think Alain could’ve done these murders, but I also don’t think the same person is responsible for these murders and Wanda Nance’s.”

  “Well, if there’s even a possibility that Alain killed her, I’ll investigate, see if I can get more out of him.”

  He gripped her shoulders again. “You will do no such thing. The only thing you’ll do is get him out of your house as soon as possible.”

  “Excuse me, but I’m a grown woman. Stop trying to order me around.”

  “It’s too dangerous to poke at a murderer.”

  “But that’s what you do.”

  “It’s my job for which I trained and have experience. You do not.” He leaned in like he was going to kiss her, but she shook her head slightly. He straightened. “I will be kissing you again very soon.”

  Shylah smiled. “That’s good to know.”

  When she reentered the house, she found Alain stirring the fire with the brass poker. “So how long have you been lovers?” he asked.

  “What?” She picked up her tea and blew on it though it was lukewarm at this point. She just wanted something to do.

  “Come off it, Shylah. I’m a reader too.” He referred to psychic readings. “And even if I wasn’t, i
t’s plain to see on your face. You’re blushing.”

  She didn’t know whether to frown or smile when it came to her weird, short relationship with Gabe. “It’s only happened a couple times,” she said, suddenly glad to have someone to talk to about it. She lowered herself to the couch and crossed her legs. “And I’m never sure if it’s going to happen again. He’ll be going back to California after the investigation ends, back to his normal life.”

  “So you’re trying hard not to become attached?” Alain sat down next to her.

  “Well, there’s the investigation as well, because of the occult angle.”

  Alain gasped. “Did he consider you a suspect?”

  “The whole town has. Gabe’s cousin Angela told him that I was the one who did it.”

  “Does he still suspect that?”

  “No, not now.”

  “What’s changed?”

  She didn’t want to mention the alibi part for some reason and she didn’t want to mention the clues that pointed directly to her, like the murderer was singling her out for some reason. “It seems more likely to be a guy because of the rape, I guess.” She shook her head. “I don’t really want to talk about it. Do you want to get some lunch somewhere? We could go into Charlottesville and I could show you my booth.” The police had likely come and gone by now.

  “Or we could eat around here. You could show me your little town. Where’s your favorite place?”

  Her house had been her favorite place for the past few months with no risk of running into someone who would degrade or threaten her. Even though she hadn’t moved out of town, she had been hiding to a certain extent. Maybe it was time to get out of that groove. “There’s this great quiche and cupcake shop. I haven’t been in a while, but it has little patio tables out front and today looks like great weather for it.”

  “Excellent. Let’s go.”

  Shylah found her cork-soled sandals by the door and put them on. “We’ll walk.” She didn’t think about the spectacle the two of them would make until they were halfway down the street, leaving the older neighborhood and entering the “planned” area. This area had weed-free sidewalks, street lamps and crosswalks, as well as three styles of homes repeated throughout. It did not have tattooed and pierced Pagans. Kids on bikes stared and pointed. A couple of girls on steps were texting. In a moment, a mother appeared in the doorway behind them and glared at the two weirdos walking down the street. Even though Shylah’s peasant dress and top were flowing and feminine, the outfit evoked the feel of flower children and hippies, in other words, anti-establishment. However, she wouldn’t have drawn much notice if not for her friend walking next to her. Alain seemed to be marching in his patent leather military-style boots. His spiky hair drew eyes to the top of his head, but his tattoos garnered the rest of the attention. Luckily one couldn’t read the words unless right next to him.