“I told you that all magic is gray,” Dad said. “I’m not letting you go to jail for killing a monster and I’d rather not get into a war with the locals.”
“Couldn’t we just hire a good lawyer?” I asked.
“There are no guarantees, and I don’t want your name attached to a murder in anyone’s mind.”
“Does this sort of thing happen often?” I asked. “Amnesia, I mean?”
Dad shrugged, noncommittally.
I sighed. This sort of thing was exactly why I had quit the force. “I’m going up to help Jason.”
22
THE LAB WAS ON THE second floor, between the library and the largely abandoned gym. (Mom went through a health nut phase about ten years ago. When I think about it, I can still taste the rice cakes.) It was a windowless chamber that doubled as a storage room for complete potions, and in fact, that was its primary purpose. Most of the family preferred to brew potions in the kitchen, surrounded by light and company, but some potions require dark or privacy or both, so the lab was equipped with several Bunsen burners on a work table in the center. Around the edges were shelves reaching to the ceiling, filled with potion ingredients, tubes, jars, glasses, and a swirling vortex (don’t ask me, I have no idea).
Jason had all three Bunsen burners going at the same time when I went in. As he appeared to be deep in concentration, I did not bother him, but only watched as he added something from a small silver flask into each, then took a drink before screwing the cap back on. Strange, since I couldn’t imagine alcohol as an ingredient in the type of potion he was brewing.
He turned down the heat to a simmer and leaned back, startling when he saw me in the doorway. “Didn’t see you there.”
“I didn’t want to bother you,” I said.
He seemed to want to say something else, but he shook it off, making me wonder if I had walked in on something I shouldn’t have seen.
“I got arrested once,” Jason said, after a while. “Down in Arkansas, back when I was just getting started. I bagged this vamp in Russellville that used to be the mayor’s son.”
“How’d you get out of that?” I asked.
“Local sorcerer gave me a hand,” Jason said.
“Mind magic?” I suspected the answer, even as I worked to accept one more aspect of the magical world I hadn’t understood before.
“Yeah. Well, it’s like your dad says–it’s a gray area. He may avoid using it himself, but put his family in danger, and he’ll rationalize it in a second.”
I leaned against the door and closed my eyes, breathing in the garlic-scented vapors of the potions. I knew my father would do anything for the family, but the use of mind magic, especially on my behalf, bothered me more than I could say.
“Kind of makes me wonder,” I said, “whether it’s ever been used on me, and I forgot.”
Jason didn’t answer. He was staring intently at his potions, as if waiting for something. When he began chanting an incantation, I did not interrupt.
Most incantations are not in English, but that isn’t because ancient languages work better or anything. In fact, they don’t often use ancient languages at all. I’ve known sorcerers to make up their own languages, and once, when we were kids, I overheard Evan using Pig Latin. It’s all about privacy and secrecy. They don’t want anyone else to know what they’re saying.
When Jason stopped chanting, he shook his head.
“What?” I asked, setting aside my concerns, for the moment, and snapping into investigation mode.
“Well, while I was out last night, I snuck into the morgue and grabbed a couple hairs from both Luke and Belinda. He definitely didn’t sire her.”
“Of course not, that would be too easy.”
“Exactly my philosophy,” Jason said. “So, do you want to hear an interesting theory?”
“Shoot.” I walked properly into the room, finding a seat at one of the stools around the workbench.
“Rumor has it that Belinda was into love potions.”
“Yeah.”
“And last night, you suggested the vamp who turned her was whoever she took to that cabin with her.”
“I’d definitely at least like to talk to the guy,” I said.
“What do you suppose would happen if she gave a love potion to a vampire?”
I felt a chill run down my spine, even though this was something I had considered myself. “I don’t think she’d do it on purpose.”
“Me neither.”
“Would a love potion work on a vampire?”
Jason stood, using the short length of the room to pace. “I’ve never seen it happen, but there’s no reason to think it wouldn’t work. What’s a vampire, after all?”
I thought back to some of our family’s least pleasant dinnertime conversations. “The dead, animated by a demonic presence. Their personalities are a combination of the host’s and the demon’s, but they are not human.”
Jason nodded.
“Doesn’t love destroy evil or something?” I asked.
He laughed. “You’ve been watching too many movies. Besides, Belinda’s potions inspired false love–more akin to lust, adoration, admiration, and desire. Evil can feel all of those things, and so can vampires.”
When I put it together with what we had discussed the night before, about a highly territorial sorcerer-vampire, I didn’t like the resulting picture at all. “Sounds like the sort of thing that could lead to jealousy or rage.”
“Exactly. I think the vampire might have desperately wanted to turn her into something like himself, to tie her to him forever.”
“Why would he stake her, then?” I asked.
“I don’t know that he did. Luke might have done it, in a fit of jealousy. It’s hard to say. What I do think, with far more certainty, is she slipped a potion to the wrong man, and he turned her.”
“I’ve been trying to figure out who she went to that cabin with since Tuesday, but I don’t have any answers.”
“Let’s start with her current boyfriends,” Jason said. “Any ideas who they are?”
I thought about the scrapbook with the missing pages, but shook off the image. It couldn’t help me now.
“There’s a hairdresser in town,” I said, “and Dr. Shore, her gynecologist. The hairdresser isn’t on the potion anymore; I know because I talked to him on Tuesday. Plus, he was able to touch my cross with no problem, so he’s probably not a vampire.”
“Who else?” Jason asked.
I hesitated, because I knew it was impossible, but I had to give him all the names I knew. “The sheriff.”
His eyebrows shot up.
I shook my head. “No way. Don’t you think I’d know if he was a vampire or a sorcerer, let alone both?”
“Whoever it is has been hiding in a community filled with practitioners for a long time. What do we all do best?”
“Secrets and lies,” I said.
“Tell me about him.”
I took a deep breath, and searched my mind for details. “I’ve known of him for ten years, ever since he moved to Eagle Rock and became sheriff.”
“He’s new to town?” Jason asked, and I didn’t like his alert interest.
“Sort of. I mean, yeah. I’ve known him well for about a year, since I went to work for him. He’s always trying to get me to go back.”
“And today, he tried to arrest you.”
“He was still under the influence of the love potion. It’s been horrible, actually, because he’s been acting crazy, and I haven’t been able to confide in him about anything. In fact, when we were talking about who had killed Belinda, he kept talking about finding out who had staked her, rather than who had...” I trailed off, realizing what I had just implied. A vampire, especially one who had intentionally sired a mate, wouldn’t take kindly to someone staking his intended bride.
I didn’t want to accept it, especially since it would mean he had fooled me so completely, but I could no longer deny the possibility.
“I’ll st
art checking things out tonight,” Jason said. “The thing to do in the meantime is keep a low profile. If you can convince our guy that you think Luke was the answer, he might back off.”
“Wouldn’t that make him harder to spot?”
“I’ll find him,” Jason said, his voice sounding harsh for the first time. “I don’t need to use you as bait.”
“Oh.” Put that way, it made sense, although I didn’t relish the idea of ducking out of the investigation. It was still my responsibility, especially now that Jason suspected the sheriff.
23
JASON CRASHED AROUND TEN IN the morning, and told me if I needed him, he’d be up in time for dinner. I wanted to go into town, but my parents weren’t ready to let me out of the house, so I retreated to my fortress of solitude, where I decided to at least give more thought to the case, reexamining everything I knew in case I had missed something. No one would know, so it couldn’t put me in any danger.
I had three suspects. I typed each of their names into my computer, then stared at them for a good fifteen minutes. A few hours ago, I would have dismissed all three of them because I had seen them in bright daylight. Now, that didn’t seem certain. Nothing did.
I realized that Jason’s revelation, or at least his intimation, had me deeply shaken. He seemed inclined to suspect the sheriff, an idea that twisted my insides in knots. I had worked closely with the sheriff for six months, and ever since then, he had continued to keep in contact with me, asking me to return to work for him.
What did I know about him, though? He had moved to Eagle Rock ten years ago, to take the position of sheriff when nobody else wanted it. He had no family nearby, but did being an outsider make him a good suspect?
I wrestled with circular thoughts for nearly an hour before they drove me crazy, and I had to escape. When I went downstairs, I discovered that everyone was either in their own bedroom or else in the library, so I tried to tiptoe out the front door without anyone noticing. The second I reached for the handle, though, a loud, disembodied voice shouted, “Don’t even think about it.”
I retracted my arm and sighed, throwing myself on the couch and staring at the black television.
After a while, I sifted through my purse for my cell phone, thinking I would make a few phone calls. As my hand closed around the phone, it brushed against one of the bottles of holy water I had been keeping in there. Changing course, I pulled it out of my purse and looked at it, my speculation of the night before flooding back into my mind. What might a vampire hunter do to make their blood poisonous to vampires? Jason had drunk something out of a flask that morning, something he also used in the potions. And he hadn’t realized I was there.
The holy water looked just like plain water, but of course, it was the magic of faith that made it work. Would that same magic protect me or strike me down if I dared to drink it?
Nervously, I unscrewed the cap and brought it to my lips, then lowered it again. I repeated the process several times before I finally let the liquid spill into my mouth, swallowing quickly.
I’m not sure what I expected it to taste like, but holy water tastes precisely like regular water–if a bit stale. Perhaps I had been expecting an oilier texture. After I imbibed the liquid, I sat there for a few long minutes, waiting for lightening to strike, but it didn’t. Perhaps it would come when I least expected it.
More to distract myself than anything else, I dove back through my purse for the cell phone and dialed Kaitlin’s number. She picked up on the second ring, but sounded busy. I could hear dishes clattering in the background. “Cassie, I’d love to talk but the crazies are out in force and I’ve been swamped all morning. ”
Strange, I thought, that she hadn’t mentioned anything about me being wanted for murder. Surely word had spread, hadn’t it? The Main Street Cafe was like grand central station for gossip. “I just thought I’d tell you I won’t be there for lunch today.”
“It’s probably just as well,” Kaitlin said. “There’s this group of goth kids here hoping to find a vampire who will turn them.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“I know. Say, Angie stopped by for breakfast and seemed pretty pissed at you, but she wouldn’t say why...something about her boyfriend, but the police told her not to talk.”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” I lied. I just put an arrow through her boyfriend’s heart and was now wanted for his murder, even though he was a vicious blood-sucking monster who had put Angie under his spell. But it didn’t matter, because apparently sometime in the next few hours, nobody would remember any of it. Or maybe no one did now.
“Okay,” Kaitlin said. “But you’ll tell me later, right?”
Maybe. If a powerful sorcerer-vampire didn’t kill me first. “Right. I’ll call you.”
When I hung up, my gaze resettled on the black TV screen. I really wanted to talk to Angie, but I had no idea what to say to her to make her understand. She had never accepted magic, and our friendship had only ever worked so long as I hadn’t pushed that button much. Maybe when whoever it was my parents had called for a favor worked their magic, she would forget about this, and we could go back to being friends again. Angie could go back to being blind and ignorant, and I could go back to letting her.
Before I was even aware of it, I had dialed her number. After five rings, it went to voice mail and I left a message. “Hi, Angie, it’s Cassie. I hope you’re not mad at me. Give me a call so we can talk.” I intentionally kept my voice light and upbeat, and my message vague.
This time, when I hung up, I knew I needed to talk to the sheriff. It wasn’t because Jason suspected him, and I wouldn’t say anything to make him suspicious, but now that he was off the love potion, he would probably be suspicious if I didn’t call him. Besides, I still couldn’t quite bring myself to believe it was him.
My fingers found his phone number, almost before my brain caught up with them.
“Sheriff Adams,” he said. At least his voice sounded calm and measured.
“It’s Cassie.” I held my breath.
“Yeah?”
Just then, the house phone rang. It echoed through the house twice before going silent.
“I wanted to apologize for this morning,” I said.
“Strange thing about that,” Sheriff Adams said, “is no one around here even seems to remember why I went out there in the first place.”
“Do you?” I asked.
“When you’ve had my job long enough, you start to take notes and hide them in places no one else knows about.”
That revelation took me by surprise and generated a million questions. When had his memory been manipulated in the past? How had he discovered this had happened? What made him decide to write down those notes today, and what made him check them later on?
Or was he somehow immune to mind magic?
Jason’s warning came back to me then. Maybe I shouldn’t have called.
“Um, look, I wanted to go with you, but-”
“But your family wouldn’t let you,” Sheriff Adams said. “I know it, and I’d even have been willing to forgive you if you hadn’t cut me out of the kill. It’s not like I didn’t know Luke was a vampire.”
“I didn’t realize you wanted in,” I said.
“How could you not? Until this morning, I thought I was in love with Belinda. I suppose you knew that, too?”
“Yeah,” I said, relieved that he no longer felt compelled by her. “How did you figure it out?”
“I’m not sure. I just seemed to snap out of it, all of a sudden.”
“So wait, if you knew Luke was the vampire who turned Belinda, then why did you come out to arrest me?” I intentionally let him think I believed the case was closed, just as Jason had warned me to do.
“I don’t know,” Sheriff Adams said. “I assume someone forced my hand, but I didn’t write down who that was. It might have been Luke’s parents.”
“What do they think now?” I asked.
“The official record of Luke’s
death is accident. I assume they believe that.”
We exchanged a few more words, but I had learned everything I needed, and the sheriff was busy, as always. A few minutes later, I hung up, closed my eyes, and took a few deep breaths to center myself. When I opened my eyes again, Elena stood there, staring at me expectantly. She looked oddly present in the real world.
“What?” I asked her.
“Mom and Dad want to talk to you.”
“All right.” I started to stand up, but Elena shook her head.
“Nana says they’re being stupid. She told me to tell them that.”
“Um-did you?”
Elena nodded. “But they told me I was only nine and didn’t know what I was talking about. So I told them Nana’s like a hundred,”
“Sixty-five,” I corrected. “She was sixty-five when she died.”
Elena just gave me a blank look. Maybe sixty-five and a hundred just aren’t that different to a nine-year-old.
“Sorry,” I said. “Did she say what they were being stupid about?”
Elena shrugged, vaguely, which was annoyingly in character.
“All right, then, I’ll see you in a bit. I’m staying home for lunch today.”
Elena shook her head. “Nana says you’re not.”
“Right.” Sometimes, it’s better not to ask.
24
MY PARENTS WAITED FOR ME in the library, which had been cleared of the other children. The large table in the center of the seating group was overflowing with books, star charts, and pages of half-finished homemade incantations. Mom sat with her back to me, writing furiously. After a moment, she scratched out whatever she had been working on, and started again.
“Hello, Cassandra,” Dad said, with a stiff formality I was unaccustomed to. He sat by the fire, causing the flames to leap and dance in interesting patterns. He did that for amusement sometimes. Or because he was anxious. I suspected the latter.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“You don’t have to worry about the murder charge,” Dad said. “The Blairs say this more than makes up for the favor they owed me, but at least it’s taken care of.”
Cassie Scot: ParaNormal Detective Page 18