Frozen: a ParaNormal Mystery (Cassie Scot Book 7)

by Christine Amsden

  “What happened?” I asked, finally voicing the question I’d denied earlier. My anger wasn’t gone, but bewilderment was working to undermine it.

  “You opened yourself to node energy without having the first clue what you were doing. It nearly ate you alive. If I hadn’t shown up when I did, you could have died!”

  I swallowed, hard.

  “There’s a reason no one works node energy until they’ve mastered everything else. I didn’t start using it until I was eighteen and Master Wolf took me on.”

  “Elena did something like this once,” I said defensively. “Two years ago, she lost control of her magic on the playground and wreaked all sorts of havoc.”

  “I remember. But she literally lost control, which meant she didn’t tap into node energy. That requires intention.”

  “Oh.”

  “You opened yourself up to powers you don’t understand and can’t begin to control!” The wind was stirring more forcefully now, rising in tune with Evan’s outrage, which I was finally beginning to understand.

  “I was just so cold and wanted to get warm.” It was a last, feeble defense, but it was all I had.

  “You didn’t have to invite the node energy in to do that. You needed control, not more power, which you would have known if you’d ever taken me up on my offers to teach you!”

  I closed my eyes and ducked my head, trying to protect my face from the stinging torrent of wind.

  “You nearly died. You nearly killed the sheriff. You did kill most of the fish in the area, which could cripple the tourism industry around here for years! Not to mention the birds and the animals and the plant life!”

  The true horror of what I’d wrought was finally sinking in. I’d destroyed an ecosystem. Or at least crippled it. I hadn’t realized … but of course, that was no excuse. He was right. I should have realized.

  “Can we – can’t we fix it?”

  “Fix dead animals and plants? I’m a sorcerer, not a god!”

  “How bad is it?”

  “I don’t know. I’m going to have to spend time investigating. But I’d say bad. It would have been worse if I hadn’t stopped you when I did.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Apologize to the birds and fish.”

  I felt a chill that had nothing to do with cold sweep over me. Had Evan ever been this angry with me before? If he had, I couldn’t remember it. Worse, I might deserve it.

  “How did the … what happened to the mist?”

  “I dismantled it. The spell was powerful, but easily undone, which I believe I mentioned on Saturday.” He paused. “What were you doing in the lake?”

  “It was getting so cold, and the sheriff didn’t think we could find our way out in time. So I thought … well, water doesn’t change temperature as quickly as air.”

  “That probably bought you a few minutes.” Evan’s compliment was clearly grudging.

  “I need to find the Bakers,” I said, weakly. “That could happen again.”

  “I’m coming with you.” His tone broached no argument, but I didn’t plan to offer him one. As tense as things were between us right now, even I knew when to accept help. Usually.

  I started to stand, but two things stopped me. First, I winced in pain when I shifted my ankle, and second, “I lost my shoes. Damn. I liked those shoes.”

  Chapter 11

  THE INKY BLACKNESS HADN’T SPREAD AS far as I feared at first. Within half a mile, I spotted a sort of boundary marker separating the diseased area from a neighboring healthy area. On one side of a line, black; on the other, the natural colors of late fall. I breathed a small sigh of relief, although I didn’t kid myself that the damage I’d done wasn’t bad enough. I risked a glance at Evan, but he didn’t look my way or say a word.

  My ankle still throbbed; I’d told Evan not to take me home for healing or even for shoes. He hadn’t argued, which either meant he agreed time was of the essence, or else he thought I deserved the pain, at least for a little while. Probably the former; angry or not, he still loved me.

  The marina was deserted. There wasn’t a lot of traffic in December anyway, but the only signs of life along the rows of boats were the gentle lapping sounds of water against hulls. I waited with the car while Evan and the sheriff milled about for about half an hour, checking every inch of the place. When they came up with nothing, we all headed to the nearby bait and tackle store. It was closed, though a sign on the door suggested its normal business hours were ten to six.

  “I don’t like it,” Sheriff Adams said.

  I didn’t like much of anything. Evan’s anger still felt like a palpable force and my own righteous indignation had long-since given way to shame. It was hard to think, with poisonous feelings like that.

  “Where do they live?” Evan asked. “I could track them down with a hair sample.”

  “I’ll have to get a warrant to search the house.”

  Evan didn’t reply, but I knew what he was thinking: He didn’t need a warrant to search the house.

  “Wait for the warrant.” The sheriff gave Evan a hard look. “I know you’re inclined to rush ahead, and you don’t think the rules apply to you, but I want to do this by the books. I should be able to get the warrant this afternoon.”

  “Better make it before nightfall, just in case.” Evan began walking away, and I knew he meant that if the sheriff didn’t come through with a warrant in time, he’d search anyway.

  The sheriff seemed to understand this too, because he sighed. “Cassie, can you convince him to hold off?”

  I shrugged. “Why? Two people are dead, you and I almost died, and there’s a hell hound that almost killed Jim.”

  “Because I lose legal authority if we don’t do this right. Neither one of us knows what’s going on yet.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” I glanced at Evan, who had paused by his car and turned to look back at me. “My car’s parked downtown. I’ll have to ride back with the sheriff.”

  “Can you drive with that ankle?” he asked.

  “It’s my left one. I’ll be fine.”

  “Without shoes?”

  “I’ll buy new ones.”

  “Suit yourself.” He got into the car and drove away, without so much as a “goodbye” or an “I love you.”

  “The lake going to be okay?” Sheriff Adams asked as he put an arm around my waist to help me limp to his car.

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure what I did. If it had been fire, that would be easy. Fires happen. But that’s not …” I drew in a deep breath. “… that’s not what I did.”

  “Hm.” Something in my tone must have alerted him that this was not the time or the place, because he didn’t ask me about it the rest of the way back into town. In fact, he didn’t say another word until we returned to the station and then it was simply, “I’ll call when the warrant’s in.”

  I wasn’t in the mood for shopping, so I bought the first pair of flip flops I found before driving out to my mom’s place. The kids were all at school, except the twins, who were with Kaitlin, which meant I had no choice but to actually face Mom this time.

  She wasn’t in the living room when I walked in, or the dining room or kitchen. I headed upstairs to the library, finally spotting her draped across one of nine tall-backed chairs set in a square around a large table. One for each of us – before the twins were born and then Dad died. No one had bothered to reconfigure things since then.

  She was staring at a thick leather-bound tome. I can’t honestly say reading it, because there was something in her unfocused gaze that suggested otherwise. Plus, I could smell the pungent aroma of wine from the double-door entryway.

  “Mom,” I said. Then, when she didn’t answer right away, I raised my voice. “Mom!”

  She moved her head to the side and stared at me for a moment. She looked old. Not as old as forty-three, which was her actual age, but older than usual. She’d taken anti-aging potions for years that had kept her looking twenty-something. Before Dad’s
death, she and I almost looked like twins. Now, she looked more like her actual twin sister. Except with bloodshot eyes.

  I stepped inside the massive room, designed as a place for a family of sorcerers to study together. A large fireplace, big enough to stand in, was centered on one wall, but no fire burned in the hearth. Around it and lining the rest of the walls were shelves and shelves of books on every subject imaginable. There was a fiction section, a large cookbook section, and biggest of all – the magic section.

  I hadn’t read one-tenth of these books. Maybe I should have. Maybe it would have prevented today from happening.

  “What are you reading?” I asked, trying to sound pleasant. I probably failed; I didn’t feel the least bit pleasant.

  Mom flopped back in her chair and raised a bottle of wine to her lips, drinking deeply. She didn’t even bother with a glass.

  “I think you’ve had enough of that.” I strode to her side and pried the bottle out of her hands, expecting resistance but finding none. Of course, the bottle was empty.

  “Come to lecture me again?”

  “Would it do any good?” I asked.

  She sighed and looked down. I followed her gaze to the book lying open on the center table, then reached for it and tipped it so I could read the title: Magical Transference.

  “What do you think you’re doing with this?” I slammed the book shut and snatched it away. Evan had a copy of this book, but I hadn’t known Mom had one. It was ominous that she’d gone to the trouble of getting a copy.

  It was a book describing how to steal magic from one sorcerer and transfer it to another, a process that was so painful for both parties that it was said to tear the soul. People who were drained of their magic became shells of their former selves. I’d seen them, right afterward, empty inside. They could recover, but it wasn’t a fast or easy process.

  It’s one of the reasons why I’d refused Evan’s offer to restore the magic he’d taken from me, unbeknownst to both of us, before we were born. He claimed he could do it slower, make it easier, but I’d read that book and I wasn’t convinced.

  “Hey! I was reading that.”

  “I know. Why?”

  “Just considering options.”

  “Options? What options? The man who stole your magic is dead. So whose were you planning to take?” I snatched the book off the table and clutched it to my chest, breathing heavily. “My God, what’s the matter with you?”

  “It’s gone. It’s all gone.”

  “Of course it’s gone! You stopped nursing six months ago.” Which was actually a lot sooner than she’d stopped nursing any of the rest of us. It is, of course, entirely healthy to nurse babies for at least two years, but she’d chosen to do it for selfish reasons. To prolong channeling magic. I’d expected her to nurse the twins until kindergarten.

  “But you understand now, don’t you? Now that you’ve had a baby. You get it.”

  I shook my head, not in negation, but in denial. “What’s happened to you? Is this really all about losing direct access to magic?”

  “I can’t protect the twins.”

  “You could if you’d stop drinking. When did you ever send any of us to daycare?”

  “Hypocrite.” Mom pointed a long finger at me. “You work. You use childcare.”

  “This isn’t a working mom vs stay-at-home mom debate. You don’t work. You never have.”

  “I can’t protect them. Can’t bind their powers.”

  “You think a babysitter can?”

  “I think you should talk to me with more respect.”

  “I don’t know why I came here.” I started to leave, taking the book with me. I had no idea what she wanted it for, but I was taking no chances.

  “Wait!”

  I stopped, but didn’t turn around.

  “Are you limping?”

  “Yeah, I hurt my ankle.”

  “Why haven’t you healed it?” She sounded strangely sober.

  “Haven’t had a chance to get home.”

  “There’s salve in the lab.”

  “That’s okay. I’m going home anyway.”

  “No, let me.”

  I turned around, not sure if I was going to stop her or not, but she was already up, wobbling slightly, but striding purposefully past me and out of the library. I followed, still limping.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. She hadn’t been a mother to any of the little kids for months, but suddenly she wanted to nurse my mildly sprained ankle?

  “Getting salve.” She clutched at the wall for a moment, as unsteady on her feet as I was on mine but for vastly different reasons. Holding the wall for stability, she made her way to the potions lab next door to the library.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked helplessly as Mom fumbled through several jars of ointment, finally finding the one she sought.

  She turned, clutching the jar to her chest. “I love you.”

  I shrugged. She’d said that before and I usually believed her. But it didn’t fix anything.

  “Here.” She opened the jar and knelt to rub the magical cream into my injured left ankle.

  Instantly, I felt a tingling warmth. Within a minute, I was pretty sure my ankle was healed, but she stayed where she was.

  “You’re stronger than I am,” she said, still rubbing. “You have no idea what it’s like. I lost a piece of myself when I lost my sister. Then I lost another piece when I lost my magic. I tried to compensate by being a mom, by living through my children. Then I lost Edward…”

  She kept her face averted, still rubbing salve into my ankle as if by fixing me, she could fix herself. I put a hand on Mom’s arm to still her. When she looked up, I saw an expression of utter desolation on her face.

  “I’m fine.” I still held the book, clutched in my arms. “But I’m taking this.”

  She didn’t say anything for a long moment, and when I finally left, it was with strangely mixed feelings. Who was my mom? She wasn’t the woman I’d known growing up, but who was she now? Would I ever get my real mom back?

  * * *

  The Bakers weren’t home, which wasn’t a surprise. They had clearly packed up and left, however, which was more surprising. Most of their clothes were gone, along with toothbrushes and hairbrushes.

  They left no trace. Evan searched the house carefully for blood or hair, while the sheriff, Jim, and I searched for more mainstream clues. Evan found nothing – not in the shower drains or the sink. The hairbrushes were missing.

  “There could be hair fibers in the carpet or bedding,” Jim suggested when he realized what Evan was doing. He was much improved after his near-death encounter, although something dark lingered behind his eyes at odd moments.

  Evan shook his head in answer to Jim’s question, but didn’t explain. I knew why it wouldn’t work, though. Hair that falls naturally from a person’s head loses its connection to that person. It truly dies. Only hair that is yanked out or agitated out, such as while brushing or washing hair, is useful for scrying. And even that didn’t always work. Blood is much better.

  “Too many people know to destroy hair and blood these days,” Evan muttered as we gave up our search of the house and headed for Matthew and Kaitlin’s place to pick up Ana.

  It was my fault that so many locals knew not to leave hair and blood lying around. He didn’t say so. He didn’t blame me, at least not directly, but I knew he knew what I’d done. We’d never talked about it, but I wondered if he approved or not. His current complaint could just be annoyance, or it could be a real problem with the fact that some of his power was undermined by virtue of real knowledge being disseminated.

  He had enough power. He truly did. He didn’t need to use trickery and deceit. But it was something of a tradition among practitioners.

  We didn’t speak much during the drive from the Bakers’ house to Mathew and Kaitlin’s house. I started to say something several times, but couldn’t decide if I wanted to apologize, defend myself, or complain about my mom again. In th
e end, I chose silence, and he joined me in it.

  “You should stay for dinner,” Kaitlin said as soon as we climbed the steps to her front porch. She already had the door open, and I could hear Ana chatting away in her usual baby babble inside. Kaitlin’s own son, Jay, who was getting close to two years old, said almost nothing. I knew Kaitlin worried about that, and maybe she had a good reason at this point, but Jay had strength and speed years beyond his developmental level. He’d walked by the time he was four months old, and could run by six months. Now, at nearly two, he moved like a ten-year-old.

  “Tonight isn’t a good night,” Evan said.

  “It’s six thirty. You really want to go home and then start cooking? Come on. I’ve got everything ready, and there’s plenty. Most recipes don’t scale well for three anyway.”

  I hesitated. On the one hand, I wasn’t sure I would be good company. On the other, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be alone with Evan just yet.

  “What are you having?” I asked to buy some time.

  “Enchiladas. There’s avocado, plain white rice, and cheese for the little ones. Although Jay’s starting to demand a serving of whatever we eat.”

  “It sounds great.” I glanced at Evan, who wasn’t offering any guidance, but I could still sense the anger simmering just beneath his neutral game face. Maybe he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be alone with me either. That hurt, and it made my decision for me. “Thanks. We’d love to join you.”

  Kaitlin ushered us inside and Ana squealed loudly when she saw me. She wasn’t walking on her own yet, but she could crawl like a champ and glide on the furniture. Within seconds, she was clinging to my leg, giving me her signal to pick her up.

  “I missed you today,” I said softly as I swung her into my arms.

  She pressed her head against my breast. “Ma!”

  “When we get home, baby.” I wasn’t opposed to nursing in public, but Ana could eat regular food now and I knew Kaitlin was sensitive about the fact that she’d had trouble nursing Jay more than a few months. I harbored no blame or judgment, but sensed she did.

  “Ma!” Ana repeated.