Dying to Keep a Secret: The India Kirby Witch Mystery (Book 6)

by Sarah Kelly

  Laurence looked directly at them, then bent down and peered this way and that, searching for something.

  India looked down at herself and saw nothing but soil and a little green shoot springing up. She gasped, almost silently, and looked back to find she couldn’t see a single slither of Xavier either.

  After a few moments he sighed and called out, “If there’s anyone here, I’ll bloody get you! I will!” and disappeared back around the corner. Then her hand reappeared.

  Laurence sounded so intimidating, even with his posh and plummy voice, that India was reminded of what Geoffrey Forsythe said about his funny turn. She made another mental note that she must find out.

  “It’s probably just the wind, you maniac,” Liam said, laughing. “You’ll be paranoid for the rest of your life after what you did, mate. Looking over your shoulder forever.”

  There were tiny gaps designed into the brickwork and India knelt down to peer through one of them at Liam. Her whole body buzzed with fear and adrenaline. He began to wheel the barrow away from the pond, toward the rest of the garden.

  “You’re not exactly squeaky clean, are you?” Laurence said, pushing his hair back out of his narrowed eyes as he returned to the pond area. “Cheating on your pregnant girlfriend with a thief, then becoming a blackmailer.”

  “Yeah, well,” Liam said darkly, pushing on the wheelbarrow, “at least I didn’t do what you did.”

  They then went their separate ways, each of them clearly hating the other more than ever before.

  India let out a quiet breath. “Whoah, that was scary. But how did you do that? Did we go invisible, or what?” But when she turned to smile at Xavier, he wasn’t there. “Zave?” she said, her heart beating faster. “Come on, this isn’t funny. Stop being invisible. Come on, show yourself!” Fear was pumping through her veins, and ever more so as she reached out her hands to touch him and ended up grasping at thin air. “Zave? Where are you? Zave?”

  ***

  India paced the bedroom she and Xavier had been sleeping in, in the manor house. She’d locked it with the old fashioned key Mrs Rowan had given them, and kept the key in the door so no one could unlock it from the outside. It also had an iron bolt, which she’d slid across, and she’d even pushed up – with great difficulty – an antique dresser against the door.

  “Where in the heck are you, Zave?” she said, wiping her eyes. She’d stayed by the flower bed for ages, just whispering his name and hoping and wishing and pleading with the Magic to bring him back. But he did not, and neither did Luis come to her rescue when she called on him. So she’d run back to the room with tears in her eyes, hoping against all hope that she didn’t bump into Laurence or Liam.

  India felt like nothing in the world was real anymore. She flopped down on the bed, desperately trying to work out what could have happened to him.

  Had Laurence somehow found him and killed him, too? India immediately shook that idea out of her head. Xavier had been just as invisible as she was by the time Laurence turned the corner, and she herself had been there when Luis and Laurence dispersed. There was no way that could have happened, she told herself, though her mind still liked to meander into dark alleys, throwing up images of Xavier in a freezer or even floating upside down in the pond, and scare her witless.

  Had there been some glitch in the Magic? That seemed the most likely thing, given that whenever she telepathically tried to connect with Luis, it was like he had the phone off the hook. Maybe Xavier’s use of invisibility magic had been somehow unauthorized, and now he was facing a court in some alternate realm? That didn’t seem all that likely, though. After all, they weren’t doing anything wrong. In fact they were doing something right – working for justice by hunting down a killer.

  Xavier! she hollered through space and time, putting all her energy and terror into her cry. Hot tears were running down her cheeks but she wiped them away furiously. She knew she needed to be strong. Where are you?

  She had expected her call to reverberate out through the realms, echoing, echoing, echoing, fainter and fainter, until it faded away into nothing. In truth, she hadn’t expected a response at all. But immediately Xavier tore through her consciousness, his face desperate with terror, his arms struggling to reach out, flailing wildly like he was trying to escape. India!

  India could barely catch her breath as she sprung to her feet. Xavier, where are you? What’s going on? And even though she knew he wasn’t, Are you okay?

  But he had already disappeared into the black realms of nothingness, his mortally frightened voice nothing but a memory playing over and over again in her ears.

  Luis! she hollered in her head as she began pacing the old fashioned bedroom over and over again. Luis! You better answer me now! Xavier is in trouble, we need to help him!

  Again she got an image, which was unusual. Most often in telepathy all she got was auditory messages. But now she saw Luis turning his face away from her, not haughtily or angrily. If anything, his expression was deeply sad. And though he didn’t send or say anything, she knew exactly what he meant. You’re on your own.

  That hit her square in the gut, like a huge big punch of betrayal. For a moment she was stunned, winded almost. But for Xavier’s sake it quickly turned to anger. Fine! she shouted at what she imagined to be his turned back, though it was no longer in her mind’s eye. Get lost!

  Her deep worry for Xavier and her feeling of total powerlessness stoked her rage until she was grabbing clothes from the dresser and hurling them across the room. “Argh!”

  Magic, you just listen up! she ranted in her head. Xavier didn’t ask to be a part of this. Neither did I. We didn’t ask to get led to all these murders, but you keep doing it. We didn’t ask to be Magic, but you insisted. Maybe we just want to be normal people, huh, you ever think of that?! Now Xavier’s… She struggled to find the right word as she reached for one of her slip on shoes… lost, and it’s ALL. YOUR. FAULT! She hurled it across the room in her fury. Her eyes widened in horror as the tossed shoe connected with a precariously hung picture frame, which began to teeter. She knew it would hurtle down to the floor with a crash, and she threw herself across the bed in an attempt to break its fall.

  Then everything went black for a moment. When it got light again, the light was only dim, and she felt the impact of her feet walking against flagstone. She slowed, her heart thudding in her chest. Where was she? As her eyes got accustomed to the light she realized she was in some kind of chamber, perhaps underground? It was a long hallway lit by flaming torches on the walls, through which black hooded figures walked, all of them toward a heavy wooden door at the end. India panicked, looking between the black hooded people and figuring she was in some nightmare.

  You’re in the right place, a deep English voice echoed through her consciousness, sending shivers through her spine. It certainly made her feel like she was in the wrong, wrong, wrong place. All her instinct told her to squeeze her eyes shut and put all her effort into teleporting out of there, hoping against hope that she’d have the strength. But somehow she had a feeling she might be just that little bit closer to finding Xavier, so she stuck to her place, barely able to breathe as the figures brushed past her. She lifted one of her hands to her forehead, which was pulsing with pain, and realized by her long black sleeves that she too wore the same clothes. A quick brush across her head with her hand assured her she had on a thick hood, just like the others. She pulled it forward just a little, making sure her face wouldn’t be easily seen in the glow dim of the flaming torch lights.

  “Aren’t you going to come in?” one of the figures hissed as they sauntered casually by.

  India looked toward the door, which the figure at the head of them all was opening to reveal a deep blackness. “Um…” She couldn’t see the figure’s face, for it was all hidden in shadows. Anxiety zipped around her body at lightning speed but she tried to sound confident. She also put a mean edge on her tone to match his. “Sure, of course I’m coming in.”

 
“Not so fast,” another hooded man said, striding up to them, his face also obscured, though she could make out wisps of salt-and-pepper hair waving around his shoulders.

  India wouldn’t have been surprised if her heart leapt out of her chest and she fell down dead at that moment, such was her fear. She was about to be found out. Where was she? If she was murdered, would anyone come to her aid? Would anyone hear her screaming?

  “This one needs to come with me,” the man said, swiping his arm out and closing his long, cold fingers around her wrist. Then he took off in the other direction along the corridor, toward a place where it curved around to the side and out of view. Figures swept past them with shadowed faces and purposeful strides. Something very sinister was going on behind that heavy door, India was sure of it.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong,” India protested, as quiet in the hushed chamber as her panic could let her. “Where are you taking me?”

  The man grabbed the top of her arm and pulled her closer, just before they were about to pass a torchlight. “Now, don’t say my name,” he muttered. “When you see my face, say the name Brad Pitt in your head, or Michael Jordan, or Madonna, for all I care.”

  India looked up at him in shock. “Lu—”

  “I said don’t say it,” he hissed, furious.

  They passed the lamplight and the orange glow flickered over his face. It was indeed Luis.

  India let out a shaky little laugh, though it was short lived. “My husb—”

  “Just don’t say anything,” he hissed again, dragging her around the corner like she was a captive. “Especially not my name, his name or your name. Got it?”

  India kept her mouth shut. As the hallway bent around it looked like the same hallway over again, with the hooded figures making their way down it toward the door. Luis nodded at India and looked at one of them. “Potential impostor,” he said gruffly. “I’ll do what I have to.”

  The cloaked man nodded then walked on.

  Luis approached an old wooden door set in the side of the hallway and grabbed the iron ring connected to the latch. He then pushed India inside roughly. It was a stone cell, it looked like, with no windows to the outside world and no light. Only by the light of the flaming torches in the hallway could India make out just how small the room was. It was almost a relief, though. There would be no nasty surprises in that room.

  Luis came in after her and slammed the door behind him, throwing them into pitch blackness.

  India leant against the wall, her whole body buzzing, trying to catch her breath back. She had been holding it all the way down the corridor, or at least it felt like that. “What… is… this?” she asked him, panting like she’d been running a race.

  “It’s black magic,” Luis said quickly. “Or some people call it red magic. Desire-based magic. Domination magic. There are so many names. I need you to make sure you don’t establish any telepathic connection right now, not with me, not with Xa… your husband. You’ll put us all in danger. That’s why I had to turn away from you before when you asked me for help.”

  “What? How will it put us in danger?”

  “They’re recording all telepathic communication in and out of here,” Luis said. “They always do. It’s their way of counteracting Magical warfare. They actually record every single bit of magic that happens in this building. Luckily there’s hundreds of people teleporting into here right now, so your coming here won’t stand out.”

  India’s head was spinning as she tried to take it all in. “Lu—” She just about stopped herself saying his name. “But where—”

  “They record all names spoken here and the frequency of them, to work out who is dominant. Naturally, energy patterns focus toward those with dominance and their names are spoken more often. These are given power and prestige in their organization.”

  “What organization?” India said desperately. “Where are we?”

  “More on that later,” Luis said, shaking his head. “First, we’ve got to save Xa… your husband. Well, you’ve got to save your husband.”

  CHAPTER 8

  “Where is he?” India asked, her heart thumping away in her chest. “Is he going to be all right?”

  Luis’ voice came out of the darkness, resigned. “I can’t make any promises. Maybe. Maybe not. It depends on you.”

  “What? Why?”

  “He performed an invisibility spell,” Luis said. “I’d given him hints about it before but I didn’t think he was ready so I didn’t teach him. It seemed he picked up enough along the way to know how to do it when it mattered. That’s a good thing. But these regressive magicians capitalize on people in his position – inexperienced witches carrying out spells they’re not quite capable of. I’m going to explain this to you really quickly because you might need this information to get out of here.”

  “Shoot,” India said impatiently.

  “Magic is like… a bridge,” Luis said, “between your mind and the outside world. Really, all you have to do to get good at magic is strengthen your mind, so your mind can reach further out into the world and influence it more. Well, that’s probably the hardest thing on this earth to do. But that’s what every witch does. Delves deeper into the power of their own mind. Or maybe soul. Whatever it is, it has to be strong. If you’re attempting a spell that is greater than your ability, you can’t quite complete that bridge and the spell won’t work. That’s what happened to X… your husband.”

  “But then how—”

  “A more powerful witch can swoop in and fill the gap,” Luis said. “Within that split second of creating a spell, extremely powerful witches, both good and bad, can sense where the energy is lacking, and can add their own power to make the connection complete.”

  “But I’ve never—”

  “It’s very rare,” Luis said quickly. “Because doing so creates a tie between the spellcasting witch and the one who stepped in with the energy. It creates a kind of debt, where the spellcaster i.e. your husband has to do a favor for the other witch. Sometimes it can be harmless but most often it’s not. Because think about it, most witches do everything for themselves. Why would they want someone else to do things for them?”

  “I guess… if they were doing bad things.”

  “Right,” Luis said. “Now your husband’s in debt to one of the crazy, deranged psychos that come here.” He gestured at their surroundings. “People who think they can control the world with no consequences.”

  Panic gripped India’s chest. “But who? Who is he in debt to? What does he have to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Luis said. “That’s what you’ve got to find out, so you can break it. You don’t have to know who the favor was from, but you have to know what the favor was.”

  Before India’s imagination could run away with itself, thinking about Xavier forced to do some evil witch’s bidding, she said, “So then how do we break it?”

  “You have to find out what the favor is, then I’ll give you a particular chant to utter. Then you’ll go back in time to the moment the invisibility spell was used but this time Xa… your husband, sorry,” he said, sounding annoyed with himself, “won’t cast it. That way the bond will be broken between the two of them and there’ll be no favor.”

  India nodded, hoping she was powerful enough to make the chant work. Turning back time?! It seemed beyond her reach. “What if I’m not strong enough to make the chant? Won’t one of these dark witches bridge the gap and then both me and my husband will have favors to do? Like killing people or stealing something? I’m sure these people don’t want us to go out to the meadow and pick daffodils for them.”

  Luis was silent for a moment. “I was hoping you wouldn’t figure that out, so I could give you the next instructions without you freaking out. But you’re smart, mami. Listen carefully, right? When you make the chant, I need you to cough. That way if you can’t get the power to make the connection, I’ll be the one to lend you the power. Then I’ll make up some favor or other and we’ll be square
, okay?”

  “All right,” India said. “Cough when I’m making the chant in my head. But… couldn’t you just do the chant? You’ll be strong enough, surely.”

  Luis shook his head. “It’s much better that you do it. Your ties to this are stronger. You were there when the spell was made. You’re the spellcaster’s wife. Even though you have less magical power, your authority here is stronger. It’s time to step up to the plate, mami.”

  “All right,” India said, psyching herself up. There was no way she’d be able to do half of that if it hadn’t all been for the sole purpose of saving Xavier. “So what’s the plan?”

  “First, we’re going to go in that door at the end, then…”

  ***

  When India stepped through the heavy door and into the congregation of crowded figures, she almost cried out loud at the sight that met her eyes. They were standing in a huge horseshoe shape, curved around, perhaps five people deep at every point. In the center of the horseshoe was a large cross sign on the ground, made up of some white powder. A hooded figure stood at each end, four of them in all, emitting a powerful energy that made the hairs on the back of India’s neck stand up. But it was what was in the center of the cross that made India want to scream out and dash over there. A large black box that looked almost like a coffin had been placed in the middle, and on top of it lay Xavier, his eyes closed. Was he… gone? India froze to the spot, staring at him, trying to calm herself and remind herself of the plan. He’s alive, she told herself. He’s alive. We’ll get through this. We’ll make it work.

  The man closest to Xavier’s head and the other closest to his feet seemed to be having an argument over the top of him, though India couldn’t understand a word of it as it wasn’t in English. She didn’t recognize the language, either, but it sent a feeling of dread seeping through her as she listened.

  “Stop this!” a voice cried, and a very powerful looking figure with an American accent strode around in the center of the horseshoe. “Fighting only defames the Order of the Anti-Magic! That is what the so-called Magic would have us do, turn on ourselves and wreak chaos so that our organization falls apart and it can trample us all into so-called justice. Do you want justice… or do you want freedom!”