A Little Wicked (The Bewitching Hour Book 4)

by Mallory Crowe

  She leaned back and smiled up at Dante. “I’ve never had shawarma.”

  His eyes widened. “You’re in for a surprise,” he said as she grabbed the wine bottle. “Pick a movie and lead the way.”

  Without even looking at them, she grabbed the one on the top of the pile and walked to the living room. Except this time, there was no Jackson in the doorway. Good. Maybe now he’d stay gone.

  Sam threw the ancient text against the wall and fell back into her chair.

  “Research getting the best of you?” asked Bastian from the doorway.

  If she hadn’t been so angry and exhausted, she would’ve jumped at the interruption. But she didn’t have any emotion left in her to be surprised. She was just angry. Impatient. Vengeful.

  “If you’re not going to help, go away.”

  But instead of hearing retreating footsteps, they got closer as Bastian walked into the library. “We’re allowing you here. That’s helping.”

  “Claudia knows more than all of these books combined and she’s not talking. How is that helping?”

  Claire had gone home and Sam had practically begged Claudia to give her something, anything, to help her. To help Abigail. To help who knew how many people who might die if Abigail wasn’t stopped.

  But she’d gotten the cold shoulder and had been banished alone to this room full of too much information, but nothing she could possibly use.

  “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but if Claudia doesn’t want to help you, maybe it’s because she wants to protect you.”

  “Protect me? My sister is dead, my mother has been taken over by an evil entity that wants God knows what, and she is going around and infecting other witches with darkness. But, sure, giving me less information will protect me.” She didn’t have time to deal with this. She needed answers and she needed them like a week ago. “How can you do this?” she snapped.

  Bastian stopped next to her but didn’t say anything to defend himself or Claudia.

  “You stand by her no matter what. You know she’s wrong but you do it anyway. Let me help. I’m stronger by the day. I know you don’t always get along, but you respect Derek. Claire has already proved herself. We’re not nothing. Let us help.”

  “I’m loyal to your grandmother,” he said simply.

  She turned in her chair to face him. “What are you?”

  Here she was complaining about half-truths and lies, and she was talking to Bastian, the king of omission.

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  For the love of— If she hadn’t already thrown her book, she’d throw one right at Bastian’s stupid face. “I don’t have to put up with this.” She pushed away from the table. “If Claudia wants to admit she can’t do all this alone, she knows where to find me.”

  “Wait,” said Bastian.

  Sam stopped and bit her lip, waiting to hear whether he was actually going to tell her something she could use. Or even something about himself.

  “When I say I can’t tell you, it’s not a turn of phrase. It’s literal. I can’t tell you.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him and tried to determine whether he was bullshitting her. She finally just sighed. Bastian wasn’t the one she was mad at anyway. “Tell Claudia to call me if she needs anything. Or if she wants to get her head out of her ass,” she muttered as she walked out of the hidden room and through Claudia’s empty office. She was just to the elevators when her phone buzzed. It was an unknown number. She debated ignoring it, but considering all the life-and-death situations she’d been in lately, she was willing to risk talking to a telemarketer right now. She answered with a quick, “Hello.”

  “Hey, it’s me. Parker’s phone has better service out here. Do you have a minute?”

  “Yeah, I’m just leaving Claudia’s.”

  “Good. There’s been a murder I have to ask you about.”

  She stepped in the elevator and hit the button for the lobby. “That sounds bad. Should I be worried?”

  “Well, the guy was killed with a bullet and not magic as far as I can tell. That’s a good thing. But I still want to go over a few things. Can you meet me out here?”

  “Sure. Out where?”

  “Your old house. The burnt-out one.”

  She blinked a few times. “Someone was murdered at my old house and you didn’t lead with that? And why are you in Connecticut?”

  “The murder didn’t happen here. Just get here and I’ll fill you in.”

  Ugh. The last thing she wanted was to drive all the way out there, but if there was a murder, this was important. Sam had a sinking feeling she and Derek wouldn’t have a vacation from this mess for a long, long time. “Sure. I’m on my way now. I’ll text you when I get closer.”

  “Great. Love you, Samantha.” He hung up.

  She frowned and stared at her phone as she stepped off the elevator. It wasn’t the first time he’d said he loved her, but it was the first time he’d called her Samantha.

  Derek did one final walk through the crime scene. There had already been a lot of pressure to open it up because it was a public road. The second that crime scene tape was down, all evidence would be tossed out by any defense attorney worth his salt, so Derek was making sure to look over every little detail that could be used.

  He and Parker had already done a thorough search after the video and photographs had been taken.

  Voss said the murder was suspected to be drug related, and Derek wasn’t sure where that info came from. All they knew for sure was that Albert had been searched for something that may or may not have been found and taken. The drug label was probably just because of the area.

  They would know more after the autopsies were completed.

  “I don’t think we’re going to get anything else out of this,” said Parker as she approached. It was getting warmer, so she’d long since lost her jacket, and her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. She’d been drinking a steady stream of coffee all day, so she wasn’t acting tired, but the caffeine didn’t hide the circles under her eyes.

  But Derek didn’t think she wanted to leave because she was tired. They’d been pretty damn meticulous so far, and he tended to agree that there was nothing more they could do from here. The uniforms had been talking to the people trying to get a view at the crime scene, so if anyone knew Albert or Erik, they could be brought in for more information. He and Parker needed to go through those notes and make sure they visited the nearest businesses to ask the same basic questions.

  Some detectives had uniforms do that for them, but Derek liked to do it himself. It was time-consuming, but seeing their face as he asked questions was invaluable in his line of work.

  “You’re probably right.” He stretched his back a little bit and blinked a few times to give his sore eyes a break. If he ever left a murder scene without his eyes feeling as though they’d been overworked, he wouldn’t be doing his job right.

  Before he could relax, Ryan Carlson walked over. “What did you all find?” he asked. “What do you think happened?”

  Derek and Parker exchanged a quick look of annoyance, but he wasn’t sure Carlson picked up on it. Probably not a great sign of his detective skills. “It’s really early in the investigation,” said Derek. “We’ll let you know as soon as we have a theory.”

  “You know what I think?”

  He didn’t know and he really didn’t want to. But considering Carlson had more experience in this neighborhood, it would be stupid for him to not at least hear the man out. “What do you think?”

  He motioned to where the two bodies had been located. “Guys like that don’t come down here for fun. They were doing something bad. Something illicit, if you know what I mean. Things went wrong and whitie started to shoot. Black one went down but he got the white guy in the head, one clean blow.”

  Derek was a hundred percent certain that wasn’t what happened but didn’t say anything.

  “What do you think happened to the guns?” asked Parker in a dead-ser
ious voice, seeming to enjoy the crazy stream of thoughts.

  “Well, look around you, hun. Guns don’t stay around here long. They must’ve been picked up by a passerby before we got here. Pretty open and closed to me.”

  He opened his mouth to politely disagree, but his phone started to buzz. It was a text from Sam. “I have to take this.” He left Parker to deal with Carlson alone, silently wishing her luck.

  “Just crossed into Connecticut. Be there soon.”

  He frowned. Connecticut? Why would she be going there? Considering that’s where Abigail lived, why would she be going there without him? He immediately called her, but it went straight to voicemail, which didn’t make sense. If she texted him, she would have her phone on, right? He called her again, but nothing.

  A deep unease hit him. He walked up to where Carlson was going on some tirade and Parker was just nodding along. “I need to head out to Connecticut,” he said. “Parker, you’re my ride.”

  He was sure she had questions, but she obviously wanted to get the hell away from Carlson. “Your assistance is invaluable,” she said to him as she started to walk away.

  “If you need anything else, you know where to find me!” he called as they left.

  Derek gave the quick okay to the officers to open up the scene as he went to the driver’s side of the Charger. Parker looked at him questioningly, but she picked up on the urgency and tossed him the keys before they both got in the car.

  Once he’d safely backed out and was on the streets, he flipped on the lights and raced for the freeway.

  “What’s up?” she finally asked.

  “I think Sam might be in trouble.”

  She immediately pulled her sidearm out of the holster and loaded a round in the chamber before she added one more round to the clip, obviously not about to fuck around. Once again he was struck with how handy it was to have someone else on his side.

  But besides that, Parker didn’t seem scared or apprehensive. Even so, he asked, “You’re good with this?”

  She scoffed. “I’d take magic over that chauvinistic detective any day.”

  Sam brought her car to a stop and looked around. She didn’t see Derek’s Crown Vic anywhere, and he hadn’t texted her back when she said she was close. Maybe he didn’t have reception…. But even though her family owned a lot of land, it wasn’t exactly the boonies. She figured he’d have signal eventually. Was his phone broken?

  Of course, there was another easy option that she didn’t like to think about…. The idea that something magical was interfering with her call.

  Sam looked around her for any sign of Derek—or something worse. The ruins of her old home were familiar to her. She would come here all the time when she was off magic. A reminder to herself of what she was capable of when she lost control.

  The house had been huge at one point. Not quite as big as Abigail’s replacement home, but the ballroom alone had been big enough to fit her apartment multiple times. Now all that remained was a crumpling roof and walls; even after all these years, they were scorched black from the fire that had raced through every corner of the house.

  The fact that only five people died really should be a blessing, but it sure as hell didn’t feel that way to Sam.

  There were plenty of nooks and crannies for something to hide, so Sam stayed to the outside. The last time she’d been here was when Heather had taken Claire. It was the first day she’d realized that Heather had given in to the darkness, a fact she probably wouldn’t have believed if she hadn’t seen her sister go full evil with her own eyes.

  Now this already sinister plot of land took on an entirely new sense of foreboding. “Derek!” she called. Come on, she thought. She didn’t want to stay here a minute longer than she needed to.

  “Sam!”

  She let out a sigh of relief when she heard his voice. “What are we doing here?” she called, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from.

  “I’m looking for you!” called Derek.

  It was from inside the ruins of the house. What the hell was he doing in there? Didn’t he know it was dangerous? Part of her figured that if the house was going to collapse any more, it would’ve done it years ago; the other part of her didn’t want to take any chances with Derek.

  “Get out here!” She went into the room closest to her. The exterior wall had long since disintegrated, so she was still right next to the exit. “It’s not safe in there!”

  Before he could call to her again to give her an idea of where he was, the sound of tires on gravel sounded behind her. She turned to see a sporty black car come to a stop, and her heart sunk when she saw Derek hop out of the driver’s seat.

  If he was there, that meant….

  She ran for him but hit an invisible wall at the border of the house. She pounded her fists on it, but it was like trying to move steel.

  Derek met her at the invisible wall and she tried to warn him not to come in, but he ignored her and tried to punch through. He winced in pain and wiggled his fingers around. “What are you doing here?” he bit out.

  “What am I doing here? You called me! At least I thought it was you….”

  “Stand back.” Angela had taken out her gun and aimed it at the invisible force, angled away from them. She fired off a quick shot; when the bullet hit, the entire force let off a bright-orange light that illuminated the ruins around them and the woods deeper back.

  But it also showed exactly how extensive the barrier was. From where she was, she could see the force field wrap as far as she could see around the house. She’d have to test the theory, but she had a feeling this was a closed cage that she wasn’t going to be able to just walk out of.

  The orange light of the force field was fading, and the embers reflecting on Derek’s face made his eyes actually seem on fire with rage. “Sam, we need to get you out of there. Give me something. Can I call someone? Can I crash my car through it?”

  “My car,” said Angela. They both looked at her and Angela added, “And if I need to crash it, you just let me know.”

  “Um….” Sam blinked a few times and tried to think back to what she knew about magic. “There’s probably something holding it together. A picture or a flame or something. I just have to destroy the spell.”

  “Okay. Where’s that?” asked Derek.

  Not able to say the words, Sam just looked behind her at the darkness of the bowels of her old home.

  “No,” said Derek.

  She took a deep breath and tried to keep her composure. She might be terrified, but she didn’t want Derek to see. “I got this. It will be easy,” she lied.

  “You don’t even have a flashlight,” said Angela, which really wasn’t helping.

  “Don’t worry,” said a sickeningly familiar voice.

  All three of them tensed as Abigail stepped out from behind one of the walls. “Hello, Samantha. I’m very happy you could join me.”

  “No.” Derek pounded on the wall. “You said you’d leave us alone!” he screamed.

  Sam had no idea what he was talking about. When had he talked to Abigail? She fell back a step as the thing inside her mother stared at her. “Stay away from me,” she warned.

  “Detective Pierce,” said Abigail, “I don’t remember you agreeing to my offer of peace. Besides, this isn’t about you. I just need to borrow your girlfriend. You’ll get her back soon.” Abigail looked to Derek and winked. “Promise.”

  “No!” Derek pounded on the invisible wall with so much force she was sure he was breaking his bones.

  She might not have a gun, but she wasn’t exactly defenseless. Sam fell back a few more steps, and after taking a deep breath, she exhaled and felt the flames pop up around her hands. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Angela fall back at the sight, but she couldn’t reassure the woman at that moment.

  The glow of the flames dancing around Sam’s hands illuminated Abigail’s face. But she didn’t look intimidated by the fire. She looked happy.

  “Let m
e go,” ordered Sam, making sure the fear that raced through her with every heartbeat didn’t cause her voice to tremble.

  “I need something from you first.”

  “Too bad.” Sam threw the fire at Abigail with everything she had. Except the fire never even singed Abigail. It bounced around her, about a foot away, and arced around the witch, who stood there with that stupid, serene smile on her face.

  Sam took a deep breath, focusing herself before she shot the fire at Abigail once more, but the results were the same. The flames never even came close to Abigail. Sam was giving this everything she had and the darkness wasn’t even fighting back.

  The flames sputtered out as Sam ran out of energy and her hands fell down. But when the flames angled down and hit the dust and dirt on the ground, it took on a life of its own and started to move around the room in an intricate pattern. Sam twisted around as she followed its progression.

  “What are you doing?” called Derek from where he stood.

  “I’m not doing this….” She wasn’t sure whether it was loud enough to hear, but all she could do was stand there and watch in horror as she understood exactly what Abigail had been smiling about. “You wanted this.” She stared in horror at the woman who used to be her mother. “You’re not here to turn me. You needed my magic.”

  Abigail stepped over some of the flames until she stood in the center of the mandala-like creation she’d prepped long before Sam had ever gotten there. This was a spell and Sam had been the missing ingredient.

  But if Sam was needed, that meant whatever Abigail was trying to do had something to do with Sam. But what the hell was her goal? Everything in the ritual had meaning. Sam couldn’t decipher the symbol created with the fire, but the location was important too. This was her mother’s old home, where Sam had murdered people, but the spot Abigail was standing, that exact spot, was where Heather had taken Claire.

  Claire.

  “No,” breathed Sam.

  But it was too late. Abigail chanted in a low, barely audible voice, but the flames shot up around them. Sam tried to run to Abigail, but the flames, her own damn magic, was hot and singed the edge of her shirt. She patted where the material had almost caught on fire and looked up to see a giant stack of smoke emerge from right in front of Abigail. As the smoke rose, the very earth beneath it started to writhe and roll, as though it were a living thing. Then the earth started to push up, a strange mix of ash and dirt rising higher and higher until it was at waist height.