Murder Casts Its Spell

by Margaret C. Morse

  "In Nebraska, at the Cornhuskers Art Fair. They take off every summer and do craft shows. My mom's a painter. I know your mother. She's so beautiful and serene. It's hard to imagine her holding a screaming kid while a snake burned into his arm."

  "I didn't so much scream as roll into a ball and refuse to let anyone help me." He glanced in the direction of the living room. "I bet I'm in trouble with Jake for agitating you and bringing on the second part of the imprinting."

  I finger combed my hair, which hung in limp strands. "No, I wanted it to be over fast. Stick around. I told Jake to wake you up, hoping you'd irritate me into the third phase."

  Ira hung up the red-stained towel. "Before we go back to the living room—you're not supposed to know about Keegan pleading guilty. He wants to tell Chris himself Monday. Let's get you back to Jake." He drew me close so that my head rested on his chest. "Take comfort where you find it."

  I pressed against his hard, muscled body. His embrace felt good. It had been a long time since a man had held me. He stroked my back and rested his lips on my hair. His breath caressed and warmed.

  Knocks sounded on the bathroom door. "Petra, are you okay?" Jake called.

  I drew away from Ira. "Why are you being nice to me?"

  He linked his arm through mine. "I've spent most of my life being on someone's repair list. I thought it was time for me to take on a fixer-upper."

  As soon as I curled up on my beanbags again, the imprint seared hot so quickly I cried out before I could stop myself. Every part of it itched—a thousand crawly things pricked at me.

  I clutched at my shirt to keep my fingers from scraping at the mark. "Will something bad happen if I scratch at this thing?"

  Jake held my hands. "If you disturb the imprint before it's done, Ruby will die."

  My muscles tensed from a burn I could feel all the way to my bones. I hunched over.

  Ira's voice came from behind me. "I'm going to massage you. It helps the circus performers when they stiffen up."

  Fingers kneaded from my neck down to my shoulders. Painful at first, the massage loosened tight muscles so that I could breathe deeply. After five inhalations, the discomfort lessened. "Hey, no more itching. That means it's over."

  Ira stopped the massage and moved to face me on his beanbag. "Sometimes," he began.

  Every joint in my body cramped. Needles pierced my knees, hips, and neck. I pitched forward with my hands out onto the tile. Before my head hit the floor, Ira pulled me back to the beanbags. His arms restrained me as I twitched. My hands clamped into claws, and my legs kicked straight out.

  "Scream," Ira advised.

  I couldn't unclench my jaws even to whimper. Ira kissed my forehead and stroked my shoulders. The knots inside me unraveled, and I relaxed with relief at being pain free.

  "Look at Ruby's mark," Jake said.

  I twisted my arm to see below my shoulder, a perfect picture of Ruby, each feather delineated. "Jake, can I touch it?"

  "Once the imprinting is over, the wound is completely healed. The convenience of magic."

  I traced her outline with my finger. "When will Ruby reappear?"

  "Based on Ruby's performance so far, it'll be whenever she feels like it," Jake said. "For tonight, the camera in your room will, of course, be turned on. Vidoc will be observing you from my office for any distress. I'd recommend we process this experience with a healing spell before you try to sleep."

  I didn't want any more magic. "I'm done with displaying symptoms of distress. Thanks, but I don't want a healing spell. I want to sleep."

  Jake took my arm. "I'll walk you to your room. If you need help, call me or Vidoc."

  Ira followed us and remained in the doorway after Jake left.

  I wrote Cry, Scream, Laugh, Get It Out. "Talk to me about Keegan."

  Ira eased himself onto the cement bench. "If someone pleads guilty, can they still get the death penalty?"

  "Chris will try for a plea bargain for Keegan that eliminates it." I shivered.

  He pulled a white scarf out and stretched it to the size of a shawl, which he draped over my shoulders.

  I stroked the silky fabric. "I haven't had time to think this through. Do you really believe Keegan killed Felicia?"

  He slouched. "I don't want to live in a world where that happened."

  I stiffened my posture because I'd been drooping like him. "I don't believe Keegan really wants to plead guilty. I don't care what he said to your aunt Mona. And I don't care if I'm off his case. We have to figure this out and help Keegan. Tomorrow. I can't think anymore today. You're going to help. Whatever we can do from here. Are you with me?"

  Ira looked up at me and smiled—not a wolf's grin—but a sweet uplifting of his lips that cheered me. I removed the shawl and stretched out the magical fabric. After I tucked it around us, I settled hip to hip with him. Our hands slipped together. I tightened my hold of Ira. "Will you spend the night with me?"

  We embraced, letting the shawl fall away.

  "What do you want?" Ira brushed his lips from my ear to the base of my neck.

  "Touch me everywhere."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  SUNDAY MORNING

  "Awk."

  Loki stood on my chest. I swung my legs off the ledge, almost stepping on Ira, who slept on the floor. Ira's eyes snapped open.

  "Spell, spell," Loki cawed as he flew around the ceiling.

  Disoriented by his actions, I staggered around the room.

  Jake's voice sounded from the doorway. "You have a visitor." He wore a white mesh running shirt and black shorts.

  On the shelf above the fireplace, Ruby hopped about on the open pages of the spell book. Loki landed next to her. Going over to them, I read the currently displayed spell, The Last Headache Cure You'll Ever Need. "I thought I would know the first time Ruby lifted off me."

  Loki cocked his head. "Do you dream?"

  Ira squeezed my hand. "Have some coffee. See your visitor. It will clear your head. I'll be doing a workout with Vidoc."

  Wanting a deeper touch, I looked into his eyes and enjoyed the energy that flowed between us. When I turned to offer my finger to Ruby, she tapped on the book. The words of the spell blurred, making me feel queasy. "Peeetra" she said, before dissolving into my skin. She landed softly. I braced myself for pain that didn't come.

  When I emerged from the bathroom, Jake said Chris wanted to congratulate me for acquiring a familiar. Congratulations, right, for another magic power I had to learn to manage. I knew each wizard had a unique relationship with his or her familiar. Beautiful, willful Ruby had burned herself into me. I'd started her heart. "How much are Ruby and I one and the same, and how much are we different?"

  Jake straightened from a stretch. "Who can tell the dancer from the dance?"

  "Don't be cryptic before coffee." I followed him down the hall, past the main door, where half-moons smiled at me. "Can you clarify what tests I have to pass before I leave here?"

  "I have to be satisfied you won't accidentally hurt yourself or someone else. Another Master Wizard will check you out and confirm my findings."

  "When Ira has relapses, does that mean you were wrong?"

  "Ira's a work in progress. Rather than considering himself invincible, he knows when to ask for help." He waved at Chris, who stood inside the beanbag circle. "Chris can supervise you."

  For Chris, I lifted the sleeve of my shirt. "How come you're here and not visiting your kids?"

  He scrutinized the tattoo, his brows halfway up his forehead. "Sunday morning is my usual time for Master Wizard Training. When I asked to see you, Jake told me about the imprinting."

  I didn't want to stay in the living room, reliving the imprinting, even though one of the beanbags had already curled up at my feet. "Let's go outside."

  On the porch, I dropped into a two-seater swing, which swayed gently.

  Chris settled next to me. "Jake said it was the fastest imprinting he's seen."

  "That imprinting was the worst pa
in I ever had." I wished the tattoo had healed slowly so I could trace my recovery. Without pain, I had trouble knowing my feelings. "Ruby has been quite an experience." I pushed on the floor to keep the rocker moving.

  Chris touched the middle of his chest where a butterfly tattoo had burned into his flesh when he was twelve. I had seen his familiar, Amauris, once.

  It would be unfortunate if Ruby emerged and ate Amauris. I stopped the rocker. "Don't let Amauris out. I can't guarantee Ruby's behavior."

  He leaned back in the rocker and closed his eyes. "I don't envy you having to train a familiar. It's rough." Underneath the spicy scent of Chris's aftershave, I caught the sweet aroma of flowers. He'd come to me from Maxy. My law partner favored a perfume that evoked a garden lush with tropical blossoms. I had to inhale their commingled odors. "I'm okay with you dating Maxy. I know I flipped out the other day when I found out. But I'm okay."

  "I'm not sure I'm okay with it." Blood flushed up his neck and cheeks. "Let's talk about something I can be rational about, like Keegan's case. I really wanted to work with you. Our learning curve was still going up, and then you started at the ranch."

  "Now you know how Janna felt when you changed."

  "What?"

  "You're unsettled by the changes in me just like Janna couldn't handle the changes in you. I think that's why you resisted having me on the case."

  "I had a logical basis for…" He shifted on the slats of the rocker. "Maybe you're right."

  I resumed rocking. "Don't worry. I freak myself out." I thought we'd been sensitive to each other's feelings long enough. "Speaking of Keegan, what are you going to do next?"

  From what Ira said, Chris wasn't aware that Keegan had told his aunt Mona he wanted to plead guilty. I didn't think it was right to tell Chris something Ira had revealed to me in the treatment program. A mass of ethical considerations squirmed around in my head. "You were right that I should be off it. Ira Flynn is an inmate here now. The potential for conflicts of interest is way too complicated. Ira helped me during the imprinting. I don't want to be objective about him."

  "Someday we'll work together, right?" He turned to me. "Rusty says Ira has a reputation for being attractive to women. The bad boy, tormented artist type."

  "Ira's okay." My feelings about Ira were raw and jumbled, so how could I explain them to Chris? "The Disclaimer Ranch isn't exactly the place I'd expect to meet hot guys."

  He extended a hand. "Friends?"

  We shook, just as we had in his office when we first agreed to work together on Keegan's case. I wished I had more time to absorb the changes in our lives. Instead of a wife who ran his household, he had a girlfriend who worked with me. Instead of being an observer of his life as a wizard, I did spells and had a familiar. And to keep me on edge, I was prickly with guilt over not telling him about Keegan's wish to plead guilty.

  While I fretted over these developments, Ira and Vidoc emerged from the house clad in white shirts and shorts. They positioned themselves in the yard in front of us, their heads bowed, before they began synchronized movements, waving their arms, kicking, and jumping straight up.

  The sun appeared over the mountains and blazed on us. I watched Ira's shadow dance over the lawn then slid my eyes up his broad torso and wide shoulders. After Ira did a deep knee bend that practically put his butt on the ground, Chris announced he was going inside to work with Kai. I almost called him back because I hadn't said all the things I could to make our relationship right.

  To stretch myself out, I tried to mimic Ira's and Vidoc's slow steps and turns. With my right foot lifted, I balanced on the porch's wooden slats but wobbled when Jake jogged over. Sweat streamed down his face and made his mesh shirt cling.

  He nodded at the two men. "Vidoc runs a Tai Chi group Tuesdays and Thursdays at eleven. Everyone is welcome. Good way to improve focus."

  A pickup roared up the driveway and screeched to a halt. Sal strode over to Ira. "How can I find your uncle?"

  Ira and Vidoc stopped, their arms lifted in chopping motions. As Jake and I approached, Vidoc reached for Sal, who'd charged forward with clenched fists. When Sal swung, Vidoc shoved him back.

  Jake snapped his fingers in Sal's face. Sal went rigid, his face contorted in anger.

  "Young man, this is a treatment center. Any yelling and screaming will be done by my students. I'll release you. Behave." He snapped his fingers.

  Sal dropped his fists. "Okay, okay."

  Ira moved close. "Why are you asking about my uncle?"

  "This is the last man Felicia loved." Sal dug a photo out of the pocket of his baggy shorts and shoved it at Ira.

  I looked over Ira's shoulder while he examined the picture. A broad-shouldered man wearing a black baseball cap had his hand up to knock on a door. He had twisted around to face the camera, as if he were aware of someone sneaking up on him. Ira's hand jerked. The picture fluttered to the dirt.

  Retrieving it, Sal pushed the photo at Ira and me. "That's Felicia's place. That's the picture Mark took of her lover."

  I had to blink before I could get my brain to register that Ronan Flynn, Ira's uncle, was Felicia's Mystery Man. A tremor shook Ira.

  He snatched the photo from Sal. "Where did you get this?"

  "After I took off from here yesterday, I went back to Felicia's place. I tried to talk to the neighbors. Waste of time. All they wanted to tell me was how upset they were." Sal swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "I sat in my truck and smoked until I got too hot. Then I went to church."

  I moved between the two men. Grasping Ira's wrist, I took the picture away and turned it face down. "Church isn't what I expected you to say."

  "That guy, Mark, he'd been lighting a candle for Felicia every day. I couldn't let the day go down without—"

  I'd watched Mark kneel before Our Lady of Guadalupe, not knowing he prayed for his dead friend. "You lit a candle for your sister?"

  "I got there when they were halfway through mass. When everybody left, I lit a candle and watched. I didn't want to leave and let it burn out. Then it hit me. This is one place Mark could hide something his family or people at work wouldn't find. The picture was taped under a pew."

  Ira tapped the photo. "How did you know it was my uncle?"

  "For a second, I thought it was you, but this guy's chunkier." Sal grabbed the photo. "I checked out the web page for the circus. I went there and asked to see him. When I wouldn't leave, they threatened to call the cops."

  Ira backed up. "I can't help you find him."

  Sal leaped in front of Ira. "If he killed Felicia, your brother is in jail for something he didn't do." He flourished the photo. "Why are you protecting this jerk?"

  I squinted in the early morning sun. "Sal, there are things you don't understand that Ira and I know. Things I can't tell you." Like Keegan wanting to plead guilty.

  "This guy was Felicia's lover," Sal said. "I'm going to find him, have him look me in the eye, and say he didn't kill her." His voice rose to a yell. "What's the matter with you people? You just going to stand there and let him get away with it?"

  I tried to keep my voice level. "Doesn't it strike you as dangerous to meet with a guy you think is a killer?"

  Sal reached in his voluminous pocket. He pulled out a gun, keeping his hand at his side. "I can take care of myself."

  "Put that away or we're not talking anymore." I waited till he crammed the gun into his pocket. "You have no idea how many of my clients are in prison because they carried a gun just to protect themselves. Give us some time to figure things out. We'll help you. The only thing that makes sense is to let the cops know you found the picture. You've got to see it's evidence." I tugged at the corner of the picture. "Let me call the Tempe detective for you. He—"

  Sal yanked it away. "You call the cop for me. I'm going to find Ronan Flynn." He dashed for his pickup before any of us could move. It sped down the driveway in a spray of gravel. Wiping his hand across his mouth, Ira walked stiff-legged into the house.


  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  SUNDAY MORNING

  Jake touched my arm. "Let's cool down."

  Seated on the patio with juice and a cranberry muffin, I left a long, rambling message for Gonzales, the detective assigned to Mark's case. The more I talked, the more I berated myself for the way I'd handled Sal. I'd driven him away and cut myself off from his antics. "I could've handled that hothead better."

  Jake swallowed a bite of cinnamon muffin. "I could've done a calm-down spell. I hesitated. I lost a chance."

  I rolled the cold juice bottle across my hot forehead. I smelled sweaty, even though I hadn't exercised. "I'm trying to figure out what this means. Looking back, did you notice anything unusual about Ronan yesterday? He has to be hugely stressed."

  "Ronan and Mona have always been very supportive of Ira's treatment. More so than his parents, who have their own issues. Yesterday, at the market, Ronan seemed focused on Mona."

  "Do you give Ira a test before you admit him to make sure he really needs treatment? What if Ronan was just trying to get Ira out of the way?"

  Jake patted his face with a paper towel. "I've never had any reason to doubt Ira's sincerity. What's your take on this disclosure about Ronan?"

  "To me, it means Ronan is the most likely person to have killed Mark. Except why kill him just to save embarrassment over being revealed as Felicia's lover?"

  "I thought your theory was that Keegan wasn't the killer." Jake frowned at me. "If Ronan killed Felicia, he'd be desperate to keep his relationship with her secret."

  My stomach knotted up because his question reminded me Jake didn't know Keegan wanted to plead guilty. I sorted out my thoughts. Mark Turner had waited on a sidewalk to meet Felicia's Mystery Man. A car driven by a shadowy figure slammed into him. Ronan Flynn was the Mystery Man. Therefore, Ronan Flynn was the main suspect in Mark's death. Keegan's reported desire to admit to Felicia's murder muddled everything. Mona was the one who told Ira about Keegan pleading guilty. For reasons of her own, Mona could've lied about Keegan.