Laced with Magic

by Barbara Bretton

  Even the sight of Steffie trapped inside that transparent cage.

  It was all being siphoned away by the probes and replaced with newly constructed memories of a knitting workshop in northern Vermont that had never happened.

  The magick at work was powerful because not even the Book of Spells was able to pierce the camouflage that cloaked her location. I tried every trick I could summon up to slide inside the shield surrounding Karen. Astral projection. Mind-twinning. Locus charting. They all failed.

  There was only one thing left to try: old-fashioned police work.

  I needed Luke.

  22

  LUKE

  The village blazed with screaming purple light from the clock tower. And if that wasn’t enough, the purple light was coupled with a steady fall of purple glitter that made a snapping, crackling sound when it hit the ground. Not to mention the oily stink of sour ashes from a long-dead fire.

  The tourists were going to get an eyeful when they rolled into town later that morning.

  Daybreak was less than a half hour away. I drove out to Snow Lake figuring Karen might have gone there to see if she could contact Steffie. I pulled into the small lot and walked the perimeter, but there was no sign of her. The water was still. The park was empty. All traces of Isadora’s fury were gone. I tried Karen’s cell but it flipped into voice mail. I drove up and down our small grid of streets but the only thing I saw was one of the Weaver boys loading newspapers into the basket of his bike in front of the Inn.

  He didn’t acknowledge my wave.

  There was only one way out of town, straight up Osborne to the Toothaker Bridge, then follow the two-lane road to the highway.

  The road intersected with some old logging trails at various points, but if you weren’t looking for them, you’d never find them. I popped on my high beams and scanned left and right as I drove. She could have tripped over a branch or stopped for a rest. Anything was possible.

  Winter was brutal on the roads in northern Vermont. Endless days of subzero weather, snow, and ice took their toll. The road was littered with gigantic mud-filled potholes I had to navigate around or lose a wheel.

  I swung right to avoid a nasty one when the truck began to vibrate at a decibel level high enough to take out your hearing. I’d bounced over a fallen branch a mile or so back. Maybe it had punched a hole in an exhaust pipe.

  Or maybe it was the sound a sorceress made before she crashed through the roof of your truck.

  “Holy shit!” I slammed on the brakes and skidded to a muddy stop in the middle of the road.

  “Holy shit!” I said again for good measure.

  Chloe was half on the seat, half off, clinging to the roll bar. “Ohmigod . . . ohmigod . . . ohmigod . . .”

  “Breathe,” I told her as I unsnapped my lap belt. “Does anything hurt?”

  She met my eyes and a strangled laugh escaped. “You mean besides my dignity?”

  “You crashed through the roof of my Jeep,” I said. “Something’s gotta—” We both looked up at the same time. The roof was intact. “What the hell—?”

  “Don’t ask me,” she said. “I was inside the Book of Spells and then I wasn’t.”

  “You were in the Book?”

  “It’s not the first time.” She gripped my hand in hers. “I saw Karen. They’re trying to erase her memory.”

  There was a limit to how much a human brain could absorb without exploding. “Karen’s in the Book?”

  “I don’t know where Karen is. All I know is they’re draining all of her memories of Sugar Maple.”

  “Who are they?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You have to have some idea.”

  “Colm and Renate. Verna Griggs. Cyrus Pendragon and his sons. And that’s just for starters.” She spread her hands wide. “It could be just about anyone. Karen doesn’t seem to be in any distress. For all I know, our friends might think they’re doing us a favor.”

  “How do you know they’re only screwing with her short-term memory?”

  Her cheeks reddened. “I don’t know that either.”

  “Looks like we’re flying blind.”

  “Pretty much.” She leaned against the door and closed her eyes. “I wouldn’t blame you if you let me out on the side of the road and drove as far away as you can.”

  “I’ve thought about it.”

  Her eyes opened. “Any decisions?”

  This was a hell of a time for a discussion of our future together. “Boston could probably use another yarn shop.”

  Her eyes filled with tears.

  “Just throwing it out there,” I said. “Something to think about.”

  “Luke, I—” She stopped. “Did you hear that?”

  “You mean that whooshing sound?”

  Which was when the giant ball of fire smashed through the back window of the truck and engulfed us in flames.

  CHLOE

  “Get out!” Luke ordered as the car skidded to a stop again. “Run and don’t look back.”

  “I’m not leaving you here.”

  “I’m behind you. Now run!” he roared.

  I flung open the door and took off at top speed, breathing a sigh of relief when I heard his footsteps close behind me.

  He caught up to me, grabbed me by the wrist, then threw me down into a ditch, where he covered me with his body a split second before the gas tank exploded.

  We lay there together for what seemed like a lifetime. His heart pounded hard against my back. Even blanketed by his warmth, I couldn’t stop shaking. How many times could we escape disaster? Sooner or later our luck was going to run out.

  We lay there for a few moments while the truck blazed.

  “Isadora?” he asked, his breath hot against my neck.

  “Probably.” I shivered despite his warmth. Her presence was almost palpable.

  The sun was rising over the woods to the east, bathing us in the pale lemon glow of morning.

  “We’d better get moving,” I said. “We don’t have much time left.”

  A bright yellow school bus rumbled by, then disappeared around the bend.

  “The driver didn’t even slow down,” Luke remarked as he helped me to my feet. “What’s up with that?”

  “He probably couldn’t see it,” I said, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “Guess at least some of the protective charm is still working.”

  You had to love a man who recognized irony when he saw it.

  “We’re near the waterfall,” I said, pointing west. Our eyes met and a wave of sadness washed over me as I thought about our lovemaking a lifetime ago. “I know a shortcut back to town.”

  In the movies the stalwart hero and feisty heroine would throw caution to the wind and make love right there on the side of the road while the hero’s truck burned all the way down to its rims.

  I wish I could tell you that was what we did but I’d be lying. We were both tired, muddy, and (speaking for myself) scared so we linked hands instead and I led him deep into the woods surrounding the waterfall.

  Neither one of us mentioned the missing sparks between us when we touched.

  The woods were dark and cool. Only the faintest rays of morning sun filtered through the canopy of pine trees.

  “How the hell do you know where we are?” Luke asked as we picked our way through brambles. “I don’t see a path.”

  “It’s not on the ground,” I said. “The path is carved into the trees.” I pointed toward the sugar maple up ahead. “See the line of maples? They point north toward town.”

  “You learned this in Girl Scouts?” A flicker of a smile crossed his face.

  “Sorcha taught me. She knew all of the old Sinzibukwud ways.”

  I described Sorcha’s herb garden, the healing potions she made from them, her uncanny talent for zeroing in on exactly what was wrong with you, then making it right with the touch of her hand.

  “I wish you could have met her,” I said as we left the deepest par
t of the woods behind. “You’d understand why Sugar Maple means so much to me.”

  “Somehow I don’t think she’d be too happy you hooked up with a human.”

  “She—” I stopped and shook my head. What was the point?

  “I know how they feel around here. You don’t have to look so guilty.”

  “Actually she thought I might not be good for you.”

  Last month that would have made both of us laugh. Now it carried the ring of truth in every word.

  23

  LUKE

  The good thing about fighting the forces of evil was you didn’t have time to sit down and talk about your relationship.

  The bad thing was you were too busy trying to stay alive.

  We exited the woods behind the cemetery, cut across the grounds, then moved at a run toward the center of town.

  Under different circumstances we would have split up so we could cover more territory, but after barely escaping death by fireball, I figured there was safety in numbers. Especially if the other person had magickal powers.

  First stop was Fully Caffeinated. They had a steady morning crowd of regulars, and it didn’t hurt that the staff was solidly on our side.

  “Do we tell them right out that we’re looking for Karen?”

  “Might as well,” I said. “Half of them probably know where she is.”

  “Crap,” Chloe said as we turned onto Osborne. “I’d hoped daylight would wash away the purple.” The street looked like an Easter egg.

  “Gonna blow Sugar Maple’s cover when the tourists roll in any minute.”

  “I have to do something about it. Order me an espresso with three sugars. I’ll be right back.”

  One second she was there, the next second she was on top of the clock tower overlooking the municipal parking lot. What the hell?

  I’m a man, which means XY chromosome and everything that comes with it. We’re built to defend and protect, not stand on the sidewalk while the woman we love does her Spi derman impression fifty feet off the ground and there isn’t a damn thing we can do to help her.

  When I saw her climb out onto the minute hand, I ducked into the coffee shop.

  The place was standing room only. Half the staff of Sugar Maple Day School were comparing notes at a rear table. Paul waved from his seat at the counter. The booths had been claimed by house sprite work crews, Archie the troll and his pals, Verna and the Weavers. Janice, Lynette, and Lilith were slumped over coffee and bagels at a table near the door.

  “Hey, Jackie.” I smiled at the cute teenage selkie behind the counter. “One regular, one espresso triple sugar.”

  She didn’t smile back. She didn’t meet my eyes. She gave me a quick nod, then turned away to fill the order.

  “Don’t even try to get her to talk,” Janice said when I joined them at their table. “The Weavers got to her mother and now she’s all exorcist about going beyond the mist.”

  “What happened to you?” Lynette demanded. “You look like you were rolling in the mud.”

  “Close,” I said, then told them the abridged version of the flaming truck story.

  “A ball of fire?” Janice practically sneered. “How Wizard of Oz. You’d think Isadora could come up with something more original than that.”

  “Trust me,” I said. “It was pretty damn effective.”

  Lilith glanced around. “Where’s Chloe?”

  “Hanging from the minute hand on the tower clock.”

  They didn’t blink. It was one of the things I liked best about the villagers of Sugar Maple.

  “The purple haze,” Lynette said, nodding her head. “I was hoping she’d get on it.”

  I took a slug of coffee, then waited while it scalded its way down my throat. “Karen’s gone missing.”

  Now that got a reaction.

  I filled them in on what little we knew.

  “Maybe she decided to go back to Boston,” Lilith offered. “Someone might have given her a ride to the bus station in Grover’s Notch.”

  “You heard what Luke said.” Janice sounded exasperated. “She’s lying on a bed somewhere with a crown of thought probes poking out of her head.”

  “Maybe it’s not so bad,” Lynette said. “The selective memory-erasing probes are still in development. Nobody knows whether or not they work.”

  Great. Karen was being used as a guinea pig. It just kept getting better and better.

  I took another gulp of high octane and glanced out the window. The purple wash that had stained everything in sight was gone, and the street had been restored to its usual state of rustic perfection.

  I was glad to see Chloe breeze through the door and join us at the table. Magic or not, scaling the side of a building was serious stuff.

  “Good job,” Janice said, giving her a high-five across the table. “Enough with the purple already.”

  “Seriously,” Lynette said. “She might as well announce herself with a bullhorn.”

  “Isadora likes purple,” Lilith said. “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Since when?” Janice demanded. “You hate her as much as the rest of us do.”

  “I don’t hate anyone,” the librarian corrected her. “I hate what Isadora is doing but I don’t hate her.”

  “Well, excuse me.” Janice rolled her eyes. “I guess my sensibilities aren’t as finely honed as yours.”

  “I don’t hate her either,” Chloe said. “I mean, at least I didn’t until she tried to kill Luke and me.”

  “But she hated you,” I said, growing seriously confused.

  “She doesn’t hate the town,” Lynette said.

  “She loves the town,” Lilith agreed.

  “It’s Chloe she hates.” Janice bit off a piece of bagel. “That whole family feud thing.”

  Chloe looked at me and shrugged. “I just found out about that myself.” She brought me up to speed. “I knew she didn’t want me hooking up with her sons, but I thought that was because she didn’t want human blood muddying up her pristine Fae gene pool.”

  “They’ve had over three hundred years to make a move,” I said. “Why now?”

  “It’s not like Isadora’s clan didn’t try before.” Lilith was the town’s historian as well as chief librarian. She knew where all the bodies were buried. Metaphorically speaking, that is. “In fact, Isadora made a run at pulling us beyond the mist not that long ago.” She grew quiet for a moment. “I wish I could pinpoint it exactly but I think it was around when Chloe was born.”

  “That’s thirty years ago,” I said. “Can’t be much of a priority.”

  “In human years maybe not,” Lilith said, “but it’s the blink of an eye to the Fae. They’re very patient.”

  Chloe polished off her espresso, then stood up. She moved into the center of the crowded coffee shop. “Can I have your attention?”

  The place fell silent.

  “Luke’s ex-wife stepped outside last night for a cigarette and she didn’t come back. I know she’s being held somewhere in town. I know she’s safe. I’m sure she’s safe. But we want her back. If you know anything at all, if you can help us in any way, we won’t ask questions and we won’t cast blame. She’s not one of us. She doesn’t want to be one of us. She wants to go home to Boston. Let’s make it happen.”

  The silence grew deeper.

  “Okay, then,” she said, meeting my eyes. “I gave it a shot. You know where to find me.”

  We did the same thing in the hardware store, the grocery, the farmer’s market, the high school auditorium, the assisted living facility. We skipped Cut & Curl, the library, the Playhouse, and the pizzeria only because they weren’t open yet.

  It was the same every place we stopped. Chloe delivered her speech and was met with total silence. Friends and opponents alike stared solemnly at her and offered nothing.

  “What about the Inn?” I asked as we headed to the knit shop to regroup. “Maybe someone on staff knows something.”

  “The Inn is the belly of the beast,” she
said. “Do you really think Colm or Renate would let me talk to their staff?”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “Let me handle this.”

  Maybe they could say no to the de facto mayor of the town, but they couldn’t say no to the chief of police.

  CHLOE

  “No.” Renate didn’t even bother to expand to human size or form. “Absolutely not.”

  Luke went deep into scary-serious cop mode. “I can go all official on you, Renate, or we can come to an agreement on our own.”

  She looked down at us from the curtain rod suspended over her front window. “Your ex-wife is not here at the Inn. Your ex-wife will never be here at the Inn. I can’t make myself any clearer than that, Chief MacKenzie.”

  “So you don’t mind if I ask your staff a few questions.”

  “I mind very much.”

  “If you have nothing to hide, I don’t see the problem.”

  “The problem is you aren’t welcome here. Neither are your ex-wife or girlfriend.”

  “Oh, come on, Renate.” I had finally heard enough to push me over the edge. “What’s the big deal? I know you have a problem with humans, but isn’t it in our mutual interest to find Karen so we can take her back to Boston?”

  I might as well have been speaking Hindi. She fixed her beady little eyes on Luke.

  “I like you,” she said. “You’re one of our favorite restaurant customers.”

  “You run a great place,” Luke said. “I see why you have a four-star rating.”

  “I like you,” she said again, “but not enough to make up for the fact you’re human. If you want to talk to my staff, you’ll need to do it through official channels or not at all.”

  Okay then.

  “That went well,” I said as the door slammed shut behind us. “I can’t believe I used to like that woman.” We started walking back toward town. “If she’s not hiding something, I’ll eat my entire stock of sock yarn.”

  “She’s not hiding anything.”

  “Of course she’s hiding something.”

  “I don’t think so,” Luke said. “I think she’s telling the truth.”