by Amber Garr
“Did your coven do this to you?” Elise continued.
“Lots of magic….”
It was the last statement we heard from Miranda. She must have continued telepathically with Elise for a couple of minutes before leaving this world again. I expected Elise to relay the conversation, but instead she stood there, staring at the candle with both hands on the table for support. No one spoke again, waiting for her to make the first move.
“Stop it, George,” she yelled, nearly giving us all a heart attack. “Hands off or I’ll send you away!”
I felt my hair flutter the moment I sensed someone nearby. George was playing with me again and it made me very uncomfortable.
“George!” She had that command back in her voice again. “No more warnings.” She leaned forward and blew out the candle. The atmosphere suddenly changed and warmth filled the room.
“He must be gone,” Terez stated.
“Yes, he is. Sometimes I don’t know why I put up with him.”
“Neither do I,” added Gallus. He placed his hands on her shoulders while she gathered up her supplies. When she finished, I could tell that she had news to share with us.
“Miranda told me something and I think it’s why she was directed to us by the sorcerer.”
We all waited for her to continue but were lingering in silence for a while. Once again, Mac had to comment.
“Still not getting any younger over here.”
Elise sat down and grabbed Gallus’ hand that rested on top of her shoulder. She smiled at us, but it looked as if she were conceding defeat. “Miranda knew someone here. She said she could still sense her.”
Her? I didn’t understand.
“Leanna is a member of her coven. The same coven that practiced the demon summoning on her.” She paused to let us all absorb this information. “Leanna was one of the magic users responsible for Miranda’s death.”
Twenty
I thought about Erin Montgomery and how her death had been tragic and pointless. But Miranda Jefferson had died in an even more senseless way, as a guinea pig. Her friends and fellow coven members used her to perfect their techniques. If Miranda had been killed earlier this year, I wondered how many more victims were out there.
“Are you sure this is what she said, Elise?” asked Terez, who for the first time tonight, reacted to the situation. Her face paled and her shoulders slumped. This news had been a complete shock to her.
“Yes. I’m positive.” Elise grabbed her bag and held on to it like a comfort blanket. “Miranda had a difficult time processing all of her thoughts, but she was quite clear about Leanna.” She looked directly at Terez. “Is Leanna capable of this?”
Conner stood up quickly enough to startle the rest of us. “She’s capable all right. I can’t believe we didn’t see this earlier. The way she and Atticus were behaving--”
“Atticus?” I cut him off. “What would Atticus have to do with this?”
Mac joined the conversation. “They’re a couple. Have been for several years.” I hid my surprise while the fairy walked around the table to stand behind me and across from Conner. “The grimoires.”
He didn’t need to say anymore, and the realization that two of our own might have betrayed us felt nauseating. I wasn’t sure if Conner and Mac told the others about our little expedition to the coven leader’s home. Atticus had discussed his concerns about other magical users, and Leanna told us where to find the book. Or supposedly she did, since it wasn’t in the place she’d reported. It was as if Mac read my mind.
“I think they misdirected us. Although, why would Atticus even risk bringing this to our attention if Leanna was a part of it?”
“Maybe he didn’t know?” Elise guessed.
“Impossible,” grumbled Gallus. “How would she be able to hide her activities from him? Demon summoning can leave scents on those doing the deed. He would have suspected.”
“Perhaps not,” Terez said. “Remember how anxious he’d been at Conner’s? I sensed he was afraid that night but assumed it had to do with the black magic practitioners. Perhaps he suspected Leanna and never had the nerve to ask?”
I had a thought. “If Atticus isn’t involved, do you think we should warn him? And what about Jake? They took him and he might be in just as much danger.”
“Do you really care what happens to Jake Montgomery?” snapped Conner, his tone so appalling that my reaction was immediate.
I stood and fixed him with one of my worst glares. “Yes, I do. I think enough innocent people have been hurt or killed, and those are only the ones we know about. If they aren’t involved, then we should help them.”
Conner rolled his eyes and let out his breath. “For all we know, both of them have kidnapped and murdered young girls. Their friends and even their own blood relatives have been victims.”
“But we don’t know that for sure!” I looked around the room to find only one sympathetic face. “Elise, what do you think?”
She straightened her posture and crossed her hands on top of the table. The concerned look in her eye became overshadowed by disappointment. “I still can’t believe Leanna is involved, but I don’t know what to do about the others. This is so horrible…if they are involved then I say don’t warn them. They’ll get what they deserve.”
I never considered myself a wildly compassionate person, believing in redemption and a punishment fitting of the crime. However, I suddenly became the human rights activist in a room full of non-humans. And I didn’t want to be in here anymore. I grabbed my purse and started to make my way to the door. Mac fell in step beside me before I reached the opening. We shared a look but spoke no words. He followed me out to the parking lot and ushered me to my car.
“It will be all right,” he said.
“How?” I pointed toward the shop. “No one in there is going to warn them on the assumption that they are already guilty. Jake…well, Jake is guilty of kidnapping. I saw that myself. But we don’t know if he murdered anyone and he helped by giving us Miranda.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t he try to kill you?”
I recalled the event at the café and stomped my foot. “Fine! Well, Atticus didn’t try to kill me. Plus he provided information regarding the black magic practitioners, knowing he could be prosecuted for it.”
I paced beside my car when I noticed Conner walking toward us. Mac stepped up to be the first one to greet him. Ignoring me, Conner addressed only Mac.
“I’m going to try to find Atticus. I’ve been calling but he didn’t answer.” He glanced at me and then back at Mac. “You coming?”
Were they going to warn him or “talk” to him like they did with Jake? Mac’s silence stretched for a few seconds. His demeanor seemed calm, but I suspected he felt torn.
“Yes. I’ll see you at your place.” The two men nodded to each other, and Conner got in his car without another word. I followed him with my eyes as he backed out of the parking spot and drove off. Confusion about my feelings momentarily trumped my concern for the sorcerers.
“You know he can’t help it, right?” I glanced up at Mac completely dumbfounded as he continued. “He’s wired differently than the rest of us.” He looked at me with a smirk. “Especially you.”
“I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do.” He wrapped his arm around me and squeezed until I grunted. “Don’t be so hard on him. He means well.” With that, he gave me a kiss on top of the head and walked away.
I stood there for a while trying to sort out my feelings. Tonight’s events had immersed, no drowned me, in the unnatural world. I felt overwhelmed, frightened, and somewhat incapable of swallowing it all right now. Before I could stop myself, I drove out of the parking lot and across the street to the little cemetery on the hill.
The gate was locked, but I didn’t care. I’d already broken into someone’s house, certainly I could hop the fence of a small cemetery. I parked my car behind the chapel where it wouldn’t be noticed right away. They probably ha
d some type of security service, but I’d deal with that as needed.
Although completely dark now, I didn’t care. Under ordinary circumstances, I would have been on edge walking past gravesites at night. But considering what I’d witnessed this evening, I figured ghosts were pretty low on my list of things to fear.
The leaves on the ground crunched as I made my way to Russ’ grave. It was the only sound I could recognize other than the distant traffic. There were no crickets chirping or frogs peeping. Complete silence surrounded me, before I scooped the leaves together to cushion my body on the ground. When still, I closed my eyes and listened. Nothing.
I wondered if all of these prey creatures could sense the power of the supernatural interrogation a block away and chose to go into hiding. Even I felt the wall of magic as I stepped into that conference room. It overpowered me and I wasn’t an animal that commonly relied upon my instincts for protection. The poor insects and amphibians didn’t stand a chance.
I sat by Russ for at least an hour, never once uttering a word. My brain processed a mess of images and analyzed the entire night. Jake’s torture, Leanna’s betrayal, the ghost, the werewolf on the table…so many thoughts. I wanted to sort out my feelings for Conner, purely based on what Mac had said. Conner was a different type of individual, only a partial human. As I dissected each minute, I began to realize Conner hadn’t been intentionally cruel. He was protecting us. Doing what he thought proved best for the group. And although I doubted my conclusions on occasion, in the end, I knew in my gut that he was not a cold-hearted fiend.
Soon, my mind settled down and I stared blankly at the stars for a little longer. My stomach growled rather loudly and I instinctively looked around to see if anyone noticed. I laughed to myself, realizing the gesture unnecessary. When I went silent again, the surrounding wildlife became vocal once more. I smiled the entire way back to my car and thought about which restaurant I wanted to grab take-out from.
Sunday quickly became a very productive work day. I immersed myself into my paintings. By the time lunch rolled around, I was pleasantly surprised to see I had completed the divorce book. And I’d even managed to keep the nasty fangs and claws off of the friendly animals.
I ate a light lunch since Garrick and I were having an early dinner. Around four, and just after stepping out of the shower, Sara called to check up on me.
“Did you shave?”
“Did you?” I countered. The towel slipped off my head and I struggled to hold it and the phone at the same time. One of them would have to give. I put Sara on speaker.
“Did you shave everywhere?” she asked without acknowledging my response.
“You do know this isn’t the first date I’ve been on, right?”
“Yes, but it’s not the nineties anymore. Hair is out.”
I blushed when I realized what part of the body she was referring to. “Really?”
“Yep. Read it in Cosmo. And Ben agrees.” Well, how about that.
“I’m good. Getting ready now.” Sara stayed on the phone for the next forty minutes while I primped and prettied myself. With the hot rollers in and lingerie on, I took a few moments to admire myself in the mirror. Sara insisted it was part of a self-confidence building skill she also picked up from Cosmo. She claimed it worked for her, and although I felt satisfied with what I saw, my stomach twisted with nerves.
I started to pull the rollers out of my hair when the call-waiting beeped. I put Sara on hold and answered without looking at the caller.
“Hello?”
“Hey Leila. I wanted to check in to let you know I’m leaving now and should be there in twenty minutes.” I looked at the clock. He would be right on time.
“Very punctual, Garrick.” I teased.
“Hey, I’m a cop. I live by order. So I’ll see you soon?”
“I’ll be here.”
I flipped back over to Sara and of course had to tell her the entire five sentence exchange word for word. Ten minutes later I hung up the phone with promises to send her a picture and to call her when I returned home either tonight or tomorrow morning. Not missing the innuendo, I promised to call her tonight. I didn’t plan on spending the night at Garrick’s. At least not yet.
The short red halter dress fit tight enough to be sexy and classy at the same time. I adjusted the strapless bra, slipped on my heels, and stared at myself in the mirror again. My regular running routine had kept me in decent shape, and although I could always find a few spots to improve upon, overall I thought I looked good. Nervous, scared to death, and petrified…but good.
A knock at the door chased away all feelings of self confidence. He was early. That’s even worse than being on time. But luckily, I was ready. My purse sat on the counter along with my shawl. Snatching up both of them, I hustled to the door and opened it without looking through the peephole.
My smile faltered when I saw two men in business attire standing in the hallway. I didn’t recognize either of them, but they looked somewhat official. I held onto the door and closed it a little so only one body could fit through the opening.
“Can I help you?”
“Leila Marx?” the taller man asked. Younger than me, his voice sounded deep and authoritative.
“Who’s asking?” I closed the door a few more inches.
“Are you Leila Marx?” The shorter guy standing further into the hallway asked, this time a little louder and with hint of irritation. Older than his partner, he had on similar attire with an identical color scheme. They looked like brothers. I didn’t answer right away and Shorty got impatient.
“Answer me, woman.”
I couldn’t help but snicker at the use of that phrase. Welcome back to the dark ages. When I laughed, he moved up next to his brother and leaned against the door frame close enough for me to smell alcohol on his breath.
“Do you think this is a joke?” he asked.
“I don’t even know what this is,” I spat back. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”
I tried to close the door, but the younger brother’s hand snapped out and slammed the door into my shoulder. My heel caught in the carpet and I stumbled backward further into my living room. Shorty pushed his way inside and grabbed my left wrist. He yanked on it, preventing me from falling down but ripping my shoulder muscle at the same time. I yelped in pain.
“What are you doing? Let go of me!”
Remembering my brief self defense training, I wrapped my right hand around my left and pulled down on his thumb with all of my strength. He couldn’t hold on and I scrambled free. Then I noticed that the taller brother had closed and locked the door. Happening within the last minute, I tried to come up with a plan to stall this…whatever this was…until Garrick arrived.
I rolled to my knees and started to stand up. Shorty came after me again but was stopped by a command from his brother. When obvious that he would heel, I finished my task and the younger man spoke to me again.
“Are you Leila Marx?” I refused to answer once more, but it didn’t matter.
“Yes, she is.” Shorty held my purse in one hand and my driver’s license in the other. When he saw me watching, he pulled his lips up over crooked, dirty teeth and smiled. He tossed the purse and license past my body and onto the couch.
“Good.”
Although the only remark the younger brother said, I knew I was in trouble with that one word. I didn’t understand what was going on, but hoped I could hold out until Garrick got here. He moved toward me.
His hand shot out so fast I barely had time to block his punch. My left wrist slammed into his with a sickening crunch. Unfortunately, that sound came from my bones and I cried out. Shorty rushed at me and I didn’t have time for a counterattack. He punched my stomach and I crumpled over in pain. They left me alone, staring with smug satisfaction.
“What do you want?” I managed to whisper. But I got no response. I suddenly felt helpless and that made me angry. I remembered my small decorative table behind me which displayed some of
the collectibles Russ and I had gathered on our travels. I used it to pull myself into a fighting stance and prepared to go out with a bang.
“Are you going to fight me?” Shorty taunted. “I will break you.”
I made a show of looking him up and down and huffed. “Doubtful.”
That got the reaction I intended and he ran toward me with pure rage and no skill. I stepped to the side and got my hands against the back of his shoulders. My wrist burned with fire but I worked through it as I shoved my attacker head first into the table, using his own momentum against him.
He hit with a crash and several of the ceramic objects shattered on impact. His hands reached forward when he tried to break his fall. Without hesitation, I grabbed a large wooden vase on the floor nearby and slammed it as hard as I could down on Shorty’s back. It hit with a thud and his arms and legs splayed out as he flattened against the floor. I raised the vase again to take another swing, this time aiming for his head, when the other man yelled.
“Stop!”
And I did. Not by my own command, but by his. My arms were stuck above my head with the weight of the vase wrecking havoc on my injured wrist.
“Put it down.”
I complied once more. When the vase fell out of my hands, I was in control of my body again. Turing to face the man, I glared.
“Sorcerer?” I asked.
He bowed his head and then looked at his brother on the floor. “Get up.”
Shorty tried to lift himself and I decided to make my move. As quickly as I could, I reached for the wooden vase and aimed it at the body on floor. In one moment, it swung down at him and in the next instant I flew through the air toward my kitchen counter.
My back hit first, followed by my head and elbows. It hurt. Bad. The impact momentarily paralyzed me and I needed to catch my breath. Where was Garrick? My vision looked foggy at best, which is probably why I didn’t see the younger brother until his hand grasp my throat.
He squeezed hard. I wrapped my hands around his arm, but my damaged wrist cut that defense short. He lifted me by the neck off the counter and threw me to the floor. Stunned, injured, and defeated, I couldn’t find the strength to fight. But I could stand up, so I did. My abuser stayed busy lifting his brother off the ground in a way that was much kinder than the assistance I got. I looked around the room and spotted my cell phone on the couch just a few steps away.