Bad Omen: Morrighan House Witches Book Two

by Amir Lane

  “This is an emergency. I'll owe you one.”

  The only sound on the other end was Hex Witch breathing. Most witches took favours very seriously. Since almost all of them were specialists, bartering was sometimes the only way to get something. Maybe he was trying to figure out what a favour from Bad Omen was worth.

  She watched him untie his hair and re-braid it, as clearly as if she was right in front of him.

  “I need specifics,” he said. “There ain't a one-size-fits-all deal here. And don't say exorcism in a bottle. Only Necromancers can do exorcisms.”

  She hadn't thought it through that far ahead. What, exactly, did she need? Only Necromancers could do exorcisms…

  “What about Awliya? Do you know if they can do them?”

  Maybe Selima could help.

  “What, do I look like an expert in all things witches?” He sighed. “They're protectors only. They can keep it out of a place, but they can’t do a whole lot if there’s already one there, and straight-up exorcism is out of their league.”

  That was good to know.

  “Do you have anything that will do that? Or— maybe stop a spirit from possessing someone?”

  “We talking prevention or after the fact?”

  “After the fact.”

  She wasn't completely sure that was what was happening, but she had to assume it was.

  “Christ, Omen, what the hell are you messed up in? Call your local Necromancer.”

  “I can't.”

  And now that she knew they couldn’t help, she couldn't risk Yasir and Selima getting caught in the cross-fire.

  Hex Witch sighed and mumbled something behind his hand.

  “Okay. Look. I got a few things that should work for you. I'm assuming you're dealing with something bigger ’n your garden-variety spirit, so I got no guarantees, and I can't say what'll happen if it doesn't work.”

  “I know. Anything will help.”

  There was a clicking that might have been a fingernail against his teeth.

  “I'm going to need about four hours.”

  “Perfect.”

  Four hours would give her enough time to get down to Kitchener-Waterloo. She shoved her phone in her pocket and felt her way to the bathroom. The bandages blocked out any light, but she could still see those blue lines running through Dieter’s body. They were close together, suggesting he was curled up on the floor.

  “Len?”

  “Hm?”

  “Do you still have your old laptop?”

  “Yeah, but it don't work. Somebody sat on it.”

  “Mrow?”

  “Yeah, you.”

  “Can I have it?”

  “Yeah… but what for?”

  Was Lenna frowning? It sounded like she was frowning.

  “I need to get something from Hex Witch.” Lindy hesitated. “Can you drive me?”

  “I can only look after one of you idiots at a time. It's this idiot’s turn right now.”

  “I'm fine,” Dieter croaked. “This is nothing.”

  “You're bleeding out of your eyeballs.”

  “Not anymore.”

  On second thought, maybe somebody else could drive her. The blue lines shifted upward into what she assumed was a sitting position.

  “Easy,” Lenna murmured.

  Dieter sniffed and exhaled.

  “If you're worried, you can call Yasir. He's still working half days.”

  Lenna growled at the back of her throat. Or it might have been Aldo. Or both.

  “Fine, but only because I don't trust that idiot not to do anything stupid.”

  Lindy couldn't find it in herself to be offended. She and Dieter had shown a track record for making stupid decisions that had almost gotten them killed, and she was about to make another one. It made more sense, she knew, to talk Yasir or Selima into doing this, or storming downtown and making Ekkehardt listen to her. No matter how many times she told herself that this wasn't her responsibility, she still couldn't shake the feeling that it was.

  “We’re here.”

  Lenna pulled her Jeep up to the curb and cut the engine.

  Lindy jerked at the sound of her voice. She had spent most of the drive to Kitchener-Waterloo falling asleep on and off, even through the pounding bass and guttural screams of Lenna’s music.

  “Already?”

  “Yeah, already. Hang on.”

  Lenna got out of the car, slamming her door shut. By the time Lindy managed to get her seatbelt unbuckled, Lenna was opening the passenger door for her. Lenna guided one of Lindy’s hands to her arm to help her down. She felt a bit like a child, but the ground was far from her feet. Getting out of Lenna’s Jeep was always a bit of a nightmare. She reached back to grab Lenna’s broken laptop.

  She unfolded the cane that had been sitting behind her dresser for months, tapping against the pavement in a semi-practiced rhythm, even as she let Lenna guide her across the sidewalk to the repair shop, telling herself that she could have navigated it on her own, that she was just taking the excuse to feel the muscles in Lenna’s forearms. Lindy might have been ace, but she wasn't— okay, she was blind now but was still very aware of how Lenna looked. And she maybe hadn't completed her cane training courtesy of the Canadian National Institute for the Blind. They'd sent her a million emails about it but, well, priorities. She was going to learn now.

  “Bad fucking Omen,” Hex Witch greeted as soon as they stepped through the door. “An’ you are…?”

  “Panthera Onca,” Lenna said.

  “Damn. You didn't get those tattoos in town, did you? I so need the name of your artist.”

  Lindy heard drawers opening. He rummaged through it, pushing aside pens and memory sticks and computer parts she couldn’t identify. She set the laptop on the counter while he dug out the things he’d made for her. Why he put them in a drawer when he knew she was on her way was beyond her, but she was starting to get the idea that he was just a bit of a weird guy. There were probably a lot of things he did that she wouldn’t be able to explain, and not just on the technical side.

  “My artist doesn't live in this country.”

  “Bummer. Arright, Omen, here's your shit. Uh— Can you even use this shit?”

  “If you tell me what it is.”

  Lenna growled at the back of her throat. She obviously didn’t trust whatever Hex Witch had thrown together or what Lindy was planning on doing with it. Considering her track record — which, for the record, wasn’t as bad as Dieter’s — she was probably right to be suspicious. Frankly, Lindy was surprised she’d actually driven her.

  “Right. So these — Hand? — are gloves that might actually be too big for you… but in theory, they’ll let you grab this spirit you’re having issue with.”

  “In theory?”

  “Spirit?” Lenna shouted.

  Okay, maybe bringing Lenna was a bad idea. There was no way in hell Lenna was going to let her go after Abigail, not without a fight. Not alone, at least. Which actually might not have actually been a bad thing. If she couldn’t get a hold of Ekkehardt, Dieter was out of commission, and Yasir and Selima couldn’t do much for this, then Lenna was the best back-up she could ask for, especially if a physical fight was on the table. And depending on how much of Kenneth’s violence was Kenneth and how much was Abigail, it probably was.

  She pulled the fingerless gloves on. Oddly enough, they fit perfectly. They were soft, obviously worn. The lack of fingers gave her the flexibility she needed to make a fist. Could spirits be punched?

  “What’s next?”

  Hex Witch clicked his tongue.

  “So this is the closest you’ll get to an exorcism in a bottle. If someone’s got a spirit pushing them around, this’ll break the connection temporarily. Dunno how long it’ll last, I never tested it, but I’m gonna’ round down and say, like, thirty seconds. Now, they gotta’ drink all of it — all of it — or it won’t take. Probably won’t be pretty. Some of the stuff in here ain’t exactly what you’d put in a smoothie, r
ight. But — and this is the important part — they have to drink it all.”

  “Yeah, we got that,” Lenna said dryly. “I’ll hang onto this.”

  Lindy nodded. That was a good call. She didn’t want to drop it and end up blowing this entire thing. Granted, there was a chance Kenneth wasn’t even possessed. Maybe Abigail was just hanging around him because he and Alistair had been close. But if she was going in blind, she wasn’t going to go in unprepared.

  “Is there anything else?”

  “Yeah, actually. Wear this.” He pushed something into her hand. It felt like a— a necklace? “I know you already got that hand deal, but this’ll help too. Prevents spirits from getting a hold of you. Ah— If I’d known there’d be two of you, I’d have made another. My bad.”

  “It’s fine,” Lindy said.

  She offered the necklace out to Lenna. Hex Witch was right, Lindy had the pendant from Selima. Yeah, Lenna had Aldo, but she wasn’t sure that Aldo could protect her from an angry, murdered spirit. She wasn’t sure this necklace would either, but she hoped Lenna got that Lindy was trying to invite her in on this. If Lenna wanted to have Lindy’s back, Lindy would let her. If she didn’t, there would be no hard feelings. But the more Lindy thought about what she was doing, the more she really hoped that Lenna was in.

  “Look,” Hex Witch said. “It would be irresponsible as hell for me not to tell you — again — to call an expert. Like I said, this shit ain’t been tested. I dunno what you’re walking into, and I don’t think you do either.”

  “I know. You’re doing me a huge favour here. If it falls through, it won’t be on you.”

  It would be on her.

  21

  Lenna didn’t say anything on the drive back to Lorelle. She drummed her fingers in time with the music. For once, though, she didn’t sing along.

  Yeah, she was not happy.

  “Len—”

  “Don’t. You wanna get yourself killed? Fine. But don’t you use me to do it, querida.”

  Her voice broke a little at the end. That was exactly what Lindy needed, more guilt. Lenna being angry with her was somehow actually worse than chasing down a serial killer.

  “Can I please just explain myself?”

  “You can sure as hell try!”

  Lindy took a deep breath.

  “I think Ice Breaker killed Alistair Cudmore’s family and framed his sister, Abigail, for it. Abigail was obviously one of the spirits Alistair was controlling.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Now, Alistair is dead. His foster brother has been killing members of Mohr’s Circle. Four so far, all came from Kitchener-Waterloo. Dieter found him with Abigail. So obviously—”

  “So obviously it’s up to you to go find this serial killer and potentially homicidal spirit. There aren’t even words to describe how fucking crazy you are. You and your brother, why do you think it’s always up to you to fix things?”

  “I’m the one that he’s been calling. What else am I supposed to do, Len?”

  “Call the police!”

  Lindy pushed her hands into her hair.

  “What are the police going to do? They aren’t equipped to handle an angry spirit.”

  “Neither are you!”

  “I at least know what I’m doing!”

  “No, you don’t!”

  Lindy pulled down the vanity mirror and started unwrapping the bandages around her eyes. She didn’t know what possessed her to do it. The pressure of them on her face was suffocating. Or maybe that was just the weight of Lenna’s judgment. They were supposed to stay on for a couple more weeks. What difference would it make? She was permanently blind. The scars on her face could heal as much as they wanted, it wouldn’t change that. She couldn’t change what had already happened. There was no denying that she’d fucked up and there was no denying she was probably about to fuck up again. But if one more fuck up could stop Kenneth and if it could give her something to prove what Ice Breaker had done, it was worth it.

  She pulled down the vanity mirror and saw…

  Nothing.

  Even without the bandages, no light made it through her mangled eyes.

  “Querida, you are not doing this. I don’t give a shit what buddy gave you. I don’t give a shit what Dieter’s girlfriend gave you. You ain’t doing this. That spirit could have killed you!”

  “But it didn’t. It just blinded me. And that was already happening!”

  “Oh, well, I’m glad you’re okay with it!”

  “I’m not! I’m not okay with it, okay? I’m not okay with any of this. But I have to do something. You can either help me, or you can let me do it alone, but I am doing it! Okay?”

  Lindy glared at Lenna as best she could when she wasn’t entirely sure where her face was.

  “No you’re— Jesus!”

  The Jeep swerved. Lindy grabbed the passenger door and the back of Lenna’s seat.

  “Lenna!”

  Lenna jerked back into their lane. Lindy’s heart was beating in time with the angry double-bass of whatever the hell the band playing through the speakers was called.

  “What the fuck, Lenna?”

  “What the fuck, Lenna? What the fuck, Lindy!”

  “What did I do?”

  Okay, she’d done a lot of things. But she didn’t think she’d done anything to warrant Lenna almost driving into a transport. Oh, God, were her eyes really that bad? They didn’t hurt. She hadn’t taken a painkiller in hours. Actually, she felt fine. Better than she’d felt since her glasses had exploded into her eyes.

  “It’s— They’re— They’re black! Like— Like—” Lenna stammered, waving her hand through the air near Lindy’s face as she scrambled for a description.

  “Like demons or necrosis?”

  Lindy would have noticed necrosis, right? That seemed like something she would have noticed.

  “Like looking at the sky at night.”

  That was… not what Lindy was expecting.

  “What?”

  Lenna let out a shaky breath.

  “They’re demon black. But— But with these… spots, like a little galaxy.”

  Lindy turned back to the mirror. All she could see was… was stars. She wasn’t looking in the mirror anymore; she was looking up at the sky. She was 13 or something, the summer before she started high school. It was the last time Ekkehardt made her and Dieter go to summer camp. They’d both snuck out of their respective cabins to stare at the stars. He pointed out the constellations that their counsellor had shown them the night before, and she told him the stories. Before long, she was going off on a tangent and telling every story from Greek mythology that she knew. Dieter had listened with wide eyes, hanging on every word, laughing and grimacing where appropriate. She’d been halfway through the story of Perseus and Andromeda when she saw, from across the camp, one of the counsellors coming to check on them. They’d run like the athletes they were, stifling their laughter as much as they could.

  The next summer, Lindy played soccer. They won the provincial championships. Dieter had spent it training for track season.

  It was a lifetime ago. At least one lifetime ago. The world where they had dreamed of being professional athletes, of making it to the Olympics, couldn’t be this same world. They must have fallen into an alternate dimension where dealing with the angry spirits felt like a normal occurrence.

  “Lindy?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, uh— Do you have a pair of sunglasses I can borrow?”

  “Glove compartment. What is that?”

  “Hole in the iris and a weird glaucoma thing,” Lindy said. “Or something.”

  Lenna sighed through her nose.

  “My girlfriend, the one I was with before I left Brazil, she could do a bit of what you do. She would do that card thing with a regular deck. Never believed half the shit she said, but it was fun.”

  Lindy didn’t know that. Maybe that was why Lenna never doubted her visions.

  “Anyway,” Lenna continued, “I always tru
sted you types. And I’m superstitious enough to think this whole galaxy eyes means something. That, and Aldo would never forgive me if I didn’t back you up this time. So here’s the deal: You and me will check out where Dieter says Abigail and what’s-his-name the serial killer is hiding, only if you call what’s-his-name the cop.”

  “Dick can’t help us!”

  “Only if you call what’s-his-name the cop.”

  Lindy sighed, but she pulled her phone out of her back pocket. After a moment of hesitation, she handed it to Lenna to unlock it and find Dick’s number. She didn’t think she could say, ‘Call Dick Hobard’ with a straight face. He picked up after two rings.

  “I need you to meet me somewhere.”

  There was a long, tense silence on the other end of the phone.

  “Lindy, what are you doing?” Dick asked. “You’re supposed to be recovering. They just pulled glass out of your eyes.”

  “That was, what, a week ago? I know where we can find Kenneth Bramhall.”

  “You should be home resting. Let us deal with this.”

  “That’s what I been saying,” Lenna said.

  Lindy exhaled through her nose. All the time she’d been out of the picture, they hadn’t made an inch of progress. If she left it to them, Kenneth was going to move, and Dieter would have to go through the whole thing of trying to find them again. It was bad enough he’d had to do it the first time. All the dead-ends, all the blockages, they were gone. She could see it clearly now, more clearly than she had ever seen a vision, Abigail Cudmore with her neck split open, hovering over Kenneth. She screamed, pushed, scratched at him. Red marks raised on his skin, overlapping until blood spotted across his face. Kenneth wrapped his arms around his legs, curled in on himself, and screamed.

  “Do you remember where that house near the train tracks is? The one where the gardener was killed?”

  “Of course.”

  “There’s a house a few blocks from there. Red bricks, unpaved driveway. The lawn is a total mess, uhm…”

  Dick sighed. He was obviously starting to get the picture that she wasn’t going to back down on this one.