by Jaime Munn
I reinforced the protection spells. Adding a few more before the telephone rang. It took me a moment to realise that the voice on the other end was Sofia Bragga.
“Sofia,” I stammered a greeting. My number was listed in the directory but I was the second N. Hayes. I wondered if the werewolf had first spoken to Nicholas Hayes. No relation, though I’d often been asked that question. You’d swear it was an uncommon surname. Although to be fair Whisper Falls only had seven of us, so perhaps the question was less unforgivable than I tended to find it.
“I just wanted to call and apologise for Cleo. Whatever she did. She’s not half bad.”
She sounded nervous like she expected to hear that the wolf had broken my arm in two places and left me black and blue with bruises. I could understand that. Cleo wasn’t adverse to getting physical and despite dressing girly, she didn’t fight girly. I’d glimpsed enough of that to not want to get on the woman’s bad side. I wondered if I ought to ask her for lessons in self-defence given that I definitely was a girly fighter. I’d rather start carrying a gun, I decided, which would happen over my dead body. So the point was pretty moot. I shoved the thought aside to focus on the loveliest werewolf of them all.
“I wouldn’t want just any old witch getting their hands on my girlfriend’s fur either,” I reassured her. “Not that I have a girlfriend currently,” I quickly added, blushing. Glad that Sofia was only talking to me over the phone.
“I’m sorry though. She wouldn’t let me come with. For a wolf she can be very independent, but I suppose that’s why she is who she is in the pack.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I hope you didn’t feel intimated or anything. Cleo doesn’t talk much.”
I raised a brow at that. She’d not seemed the quiet type to me, but then she would find most conversation pretty tiresome I guessed. The people she was most at ease with probably considered her a very Chatty Cathy. Probably because those blessed or cursed people could be counted on the fingers of one hand. Cleo didn’t rest easy around anyone from what I had seen in our moment of contact, though perhaps the alpha and his mate were the only exception.
“She managed to get her point across,” I said. I heard Sofia wince. “Don’t worry, she didn’t even have to hurt me much to make it.” I laughed when the silence on the other end of the line lengthened. “I’m kidding, she was very hands off. No violence. Promise and cross my heart.”
“Okay,” Sofia’s relief was palpable. “That wasn’t the only reason I called you though.” She paused The silence seemed darker this time, like Cleo had been light-hearted conversation between the two of us. I swallowed wondering what could make the werewolf more nervous than her pack’s heavy hitter. “The pack is hearing your name whispered in twilight. Hadrian thought that you should know.”
Hadrian was the pack’s alpha. I had carefully skirted any questions I had about him, because werewolves tended to frown pretty hard on anyone who stuck their noses too deeply into wolf business. They were like that scary-close family that lived in the same neighbourhood and always went on vacation together. I was very curious about the alpha, considering that he was infamous for being very dead. Not undead, but dust to dust dead, literally dead. I hadn’t met very many ghosts. Definitely not a single werewolf ghost. The idea of meeting him was like the idea of meeting Taylor Lautner to a Twi-Hard, although that made me sound like a real nutcase, which was another reason why I made a real effort not to bring the subject up.
I focused instead on his message and had a pretty good idea who was playing broken telephone with my name in the city. There was only one person who moved in those sorts of supernatural circles. I wasn’t afraid to speak her name aloud.
“There’s a witch from the city taking a special interest in me since I don’t like her childcatcher tendencies. They kind of creep me out,” I said, keeping the story simple and woman of the veiled world free. Not even werewolves would unflinchingly face up to one of those folk. Not even dead werewolves I was sure. “Grace St John. She’s not a Glinda.”
“I see,” Sofia said after a short pause. I hoped she hadn’t missed my Wizard of Oz reference because that might be a crush breaker for me. “I’ll see what the pack knows about the Witch of the West.”
I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I felt wonderfully reassured that she had experienced Oz in one form or the other. “I’d appreciate that.” I couldn’t keep the happy out of my voice. I wondered what Sofia made of it. I didn’t have to wonder long though.
“You shouldn’t be cavalier about this, Nilla. The whispers aren’t about what to get you for Christmas.” Her voice was tense. I couldn’t blame her for thinking I was being just a little too carefree about the wicked witch who wanted me dead.
“Believe me, I’m not, but falling into a panic is going to get me dead. I try very hard to avoid getting me dead.” I made an extra special effort at hardening my tone but it was difficult when speaking to the woman who gave me butterflies in my stomach. I hastened to add, “Not that getting dead is a common problem for me, I’m not usually at the top of the hit lists.” I didn’t want to be penalised as living too dangerously for even a werewolf to consider going out with me on a date. It’s funny how the idea of potential romance can skew one’s priorities.
“It only takes one hit list experience,” Sofia said softly after a short pause in which I could imagine her analysing my words. “Watch your back, Nilla. She’s bound to find someone willing to take on the job. She might have already.”
I didn’t like that idea one bit.
“Don’t worry,” I told her despite the gulp forming in my throat, “I got backup.” I glanced at F.C. He sat there looking all smug and satisfied like he’d totally approved that message. I said goodbye to Sofia. As I set the receiver back in the cradle I said to my familiar, “Hey, don’t act like it wasn’t you trying to kill me yesterday.”
I tried to catalogue the kinds of creatures that Grace might contract to take my head for her, but even the incomplete list I could mentally summon up was too big to narrow down to anything specific. There was more than enough dwelling on the cusp to make even a witch scared of bumps in the night.
I had a nagging feeling I’d forgotten something as the afternoon dragged into evening. I kept starting at every noise. I probably wouldn’t have fallen asleep at all, but F.C. rumble-purred me a lullaby at just past midnight when he curled up on the couch beside me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I woke feeling that something was wrong and couldn’t shake the feeling as I went about my morning ritual. I told myself it was a combination of the Monday blues and Grace St John. With someone hell bent on summing up my equation of course there was bound to be something wrong.
My bowl of Froot Loops reminded me of flowers on a grave. The steam shrouded bathroom after my shower made me think of creepy horror films. I avoided the whole horror genre, but couldn’t completely escape their reach. Livia thought I was a complete wimp when it came to scary movies. She didn’t realise how very real the monsters were. Stepping into what could easily be a set on one of those films left me feeling extra naked and covered my skin in goose bumps.
It was almost a relief to leave the apartment with F.C. at my heels and head toward the store. I didn’t usually treat myself to desert after breakfast, but the knot of worry in my stomach was encouragement enough to stock up on sugar reserves. I hardly tasted the chocolate in the bars as I wolfed down three of them.
Although I was sure Livia would have something to say about it, I wore Asbelia’s broach on the lapel of a large collared shirt. The white shirt with its touches of pink like apple blossoms did absolutely nothing to make the broach look like a touch of modern chic. Maybe it was the broach or maybe it was the way I was wearing it. No matter what Livia had to say about it though, I was definitely keeping it. The extra magic it held might prove the difference between life and death for me. It was a scary thought, so I avoided focusing on it. I wondered if the broach was rechargeable instead.
There
was no sign of anything suspicious in the store. The creepy Victorian angel lamp was looking almost charming this morning, which just goes to show how skewed perspective really is. The lamp had gone from ‘I think it’s watching my every move and getting ready to pounce when I am least expecting it’, to ‘I think it’s watching over me’. How fickle was that? I said as much to F.C. but he gave me a pointed stare. I saw the irony, since I’d literally embodied the concept inside of my assassin turned familiar. I wondered what it said about me, but there was no way I was going to pay for a shrink to psychoanalyse my conflicted personality and come up with a verdict.
I entered the store and began prepping for the day while F.C. made himself comfortable on the spare chair behind the counter. I wondered what Livia would have to say about that.
I had the ingredients for Sofia’s spell in my handbag, not willing to leave it lying about. Though I didn’t feel quite ready to tap my power to craft it. It seemed like tempting fate when I might need all the energy I could muster to stay alive. It made me feel guilty though not working on the werewolf’s spell. I didn’t want to disappoint Sofia more than I didn’t want Cleo to come around to renegotiate. Although the latter was certainly high on the list of things I’d rather not experience. I could live with it where the alternative seemed certain death.
To ease my conscience I worked on refining the spell itself. Spelling wasn’t quite the mystic conjunction of moon and stars, or the use of relics and rare ingredients. Although those things had their place in evoking ancient magic, magic that originated in the veiled world where symbolism was a power unto itself. A witch could naturally shape energy to her will, but like Grace they could just as easily call on darker powers. There were beings who drew purely on the more mystic powers that seeped out from the veiled world like sorcerers. There were beings who existed solely on the magical energy like sendings. In a way the veiled world was like fairy land where everything was infused with magic. Where light and dark had an old and clear definition.
The phone rang. The knots in my stomach tightened. I answered and heard Erica on the other end.
“Have you heard from Livia this morning?” She sounded anxious. Livia was never late. She was the most punctual person I knew. If she wasn’t at Tangles yet, something was very wrong.
“No. Last I spoke with her was yesterday.” I felt a cold chill down my spine. I had protected her from mental invasion, but that didn’t mean that Grace couldn’t touch her. “Have you spoken with Kevin?”
“I don’t know how to get in touch with him. I tried the telephone directory, but he doesn’t seem to have a number listed. I don’t know where he lives either. Do you?”
I shook my head then verbalised my response for Erica’s benefit. “I’ll swing by Livia’s,” I said, “Call me if she shows up?”
“You do the same,” Erica replied. Then we hung up on each other. I grabbed my bag and F.C. jumped off his chair. I almost told him to stay, but I didn’t know what I would be up against. Not having my familiar by my side seemed foolishly like not making use of all my assets.
Outside the store I hailed down a cab. The driver took one look at F.C. and opened his mouth. I nudged him with a little energy and made him temporarily forget about my cat.
“Where to?” he asked, focusing on me.
I wondered if Grace had started on her mind bending career path by nudging people just like I had. I shook away the thought as it was a distraction I couldn’t afford to indulge now. It was a point of debate I could tackle later. I gave the driver Livia’s address as F.C. dropped to the floor of the cab in an effort to make himself less visible.
I fidgeted nervously as the cab made its way out of the town centre and into the residential neighbourhoods. Livia’s home was in a newer part of Whisper Falls where a development company had planted rows and rows of identical looking houses that made it almost impossible to distinguish one home from another. The driver though had no trouble dropping me at Livia’s front gate. I asked him to wait and keep the meter running though I winced at the thought of what that would cost me. F.C. joined me as I hurried through the front gate and towards the front door.
Livia had given me a key. It was way better than a rock key safe she’d said. I’d never had reason to use it before. Even after rapping at her door and waiting for a response, I still felt a little like an intruder turning the key in the lock. I hesitated at the threshold, but F.C. had no qualms about leading the way.
The curtains were all closed. There were no lights on so the house was filled with shadows. I thought of the sending that Grace had first sent after me. F.C. wasn’t hissing at the dark corners though, but I still opened the curtains as I walked through Livia’s house, calling her name at intervals.
The house felt empty though. I didn’t expect to find her in any of its room. Livia was definitely an advocate of the less is more movement. Her home was sparsely decorated. Though, unlike many homes that followed the same sort of style and ended up looking like a desert with a single tree, every piece of furniture and every piece of art seemed to fill its allotted space. In a former life I was sure that Livia had been a world class interior decorator. I had no idea where that fell in the sequence of her former lives as a model, actress, and there had to be some courtesan in there somewhere. The high class kind who had kings for clients. Not to mention her sassy stint as a Latina chica, who I always tended to imagine had been a ballroom dancer and the mol of some kingpin with a vast empire who’d toss it all away in a heartbeat to keep his woman at his side.
So just shoot me, I’m a sappy romantic.
I didn’t find Livia, but I also didn’t find evidence of a struggle. Nothing that shouted out to my untrained eye anyway; if the clues were hidden in the minutia of forensics they went right over my head. F.C. didn’t seem to find anything worth drawing my attention to anyway. Between the two of us, I was betting he had a better eye for the little things. I doubt it would fly down at the steel-and-shiny-surfaces pathology labs, but my cat was all the forensic support I needed.
I checked the kitchen last. I’d only glanced in on my first walkthrough. It had been quite empty and neat as a pin, whatever that phrase alluded to. I was guessing that the saying had originated before the game of pickup sticks.
There was a notepad on Livia’s fridge that always detailed her plans for the day. It was a social diary of sorts. I hoped that it would at least clue me in on where Kevin had planned on taking her on their date. Livia had been upbeat about the date because she’d doodled around the words ‘mystery date’ with Kevin, but I was decidedly disappointed. Whatever happened to the days when people always assumed they could be dating an axe murderer? When they made sure that someone knew where they were going and the make, model and license plate number of their date’s car? Kevin’s telephone number wasn’t even on the little memo pad for goodness sake.
Like most of us in the modern world Livia’s contact numbers were stored in her cell phone. She didn’t keep a little phone book around the house, but she did have an answering machine, which stood in the entrance hall of her home. The display screen proclaimed seven messages. Though it left me feeling like I was destined for a place in one of those inner circles of hell I definitely didn’t believe in, I pushed the play messages button and hoped for something that could be considered a clue.
All of the messages were from Erica but for the last. The last message wasn’t even for Livia it was for me. Someone had timed it perfectly because they’d left the message as my cab had pulled up. I knew because they ended the call by saying as much and that chilled me through to my bones. They’d watched me arrive. Maybe they were watching me still. Not even F.C. had noticed them. I wondered if I was taking super cat far more seriously than warranted.
“I have your friend and her date. They’re my playthings until you come and find us. I hope I don’t break them first. You haven’t got much time though…but at least you’re on the right track. I see you pulling up outside now. What a cute little kitty
. I could eat it all up. Be seeing you. Kisses.”
What was more disconcerting to me than the veiled threats and the fact that the speaker had been watching me, was the fact that the voice speaking to me so coolly was definitely Livia’s. I thought about Sofia’s warning and one and one made two for me. It wasn’t a mathematical two. It was a thematic two or maybe a set of twos. I did know enough to deduce that whatever had taken Livia and Kevin, had quite literally taken them. My blessing might have been sufficient to keep Grace out of Livia’s head, but it hadn’t been enough to protect her from possession. Unfortunately there were a few things that dwelled in the shadows between this world and the veiled world that got a kick from possessing people. I had no clue what thing had got inside my best friend and her date, but I had little doubt about the kind of playtime it was indulging in.
I shuddered and erased the messages after listening to the last one a few more times to listen for any clues. There was nothing I could discern. I wondered if I was intended to interrupt playtime or merely be taunted by it. Forced into doing something stupid because of the hard, cold burden that I’d gotten my best friend caught up in a battle between two witches. What really sucked was that if that was the plan, it was totally working. F.C. brushed between my legs reassuringly, his deep and alien purr offering up loud reassurances. Even that couldn’t ease the overwhelming feeling of guilt. Why did the dark side always play dirty?
I peered out the window next to the front door and tried to recall if any cars had been parked alongside the houses that were no longer there. I didn’t have one of those nifty photographic memories, even though it had been on my Christmas wish list for years, so I wasn’t sure if anything had changed since I’d entered Livia’s house. If the creature inside of Livia had been watching me as my cab pulled up outside there were only two options. One, they’d been ensconced in a car or, two, they were in one of the houses in this street. I was hoping for the later, because I didn’t like the odds if my target was mobile. Livia could be anywhere.