Devious Magic (#3 Stella Mayweather Paranormal Series)

by Camilla Chafer

  “I don’t want to argue with you.” Evan shook his head as he picked up his phone again. “England is not safe for you. Just wait this out and let the rest of us deal with it.”

  “The longer we wait,” I pointed out, “the more likely it is the Brotherhood give up on me and kill her.” Hearing any more platitudes wasn’t what I wanted right now. I walked out, not bothering to close the door behind me, a plan forming in my mind. If Evan weren’t prepared to save Annalise, I would have to be.

  ***

  I felt guilty. I really did, but my loyalty to Annalise overweighed any hurt that I might cause Evan by sneaking out. I had the whole day, and night, after our cross exchange to think about what I would do. I didn’t like to call it escape, because Evan wasn’t someone I wanted to escape from, but, for want of a better word, that’s essentially what it was.

  The conflict in my heart weighed heavily on me. I knew Evan’s intentions were good, that he wanted to save me from any possible harm. But so far, it didn’t look like he or Étoile, or his demon assistant, could come up with any semblance of a plan, even with several hours gone. The lead from the shape-shifter apparently turned into a dead end, so far, and Evan still hadn’t made contact with the shifter’s employers, to my knowledge. Part of me was a little worried that I’d made a deadly enemy – even though the shifter’s accident hadn’t been one hundred percent my fault – and someday it would come back to bite me. I pushed the thought away. I would deal with my own personal problems later. I had bigger worries for the moment.

  Practically speaking, covering the thousands of miles between Texas and England was going to be difficult, especially as there was no way I could shimmer that far. Even if I were confident, the idea of materialising in the cold Atlantic was enough to make my stomach flip.

  I couldn’t use my magic in the house. I wasn’t totally sure of my location, though I knew I was somewhere near Austin. I used the internet function on my phone to find a list of Texas’ airports. Knowing the name of one was as close to directions as I was going to get. At least, I could reject all the non-international ones without physically going there to check each one out.

  Once I got outside, I felt confident that my magic would reactivate. If I were unlucky, between getting outside and Evan finding me gone, I would probably only have minutes to shimmer. I felt a phenomenal sense of guilt at the idea of deceiving Evan and Étoile, but I swallowed it down. Once I had Annalise, I would apologise for as long as it took.

  It wasn’t until an hour later that I saw my opportunity.

  Étoile was making a phone call in the living room and Evan was in his study, talking to Micah who had apparently returned. Slipping outside to the rear yard, I walked around, trying to sense my magic and ultimately realised that to shimmer, I needed to be off the property. It turned out to be pretty easy. I walked around the side of the house to the curved paved front driveway, then the double garage, and hit the open button on the electric gates. Slipping through, I paused on the sidewalk under the cool sun, looking to my left and right. We seemed to be in a pleasantly upscale neighbourhood with residential homes that stretched every which way. Behind me, the gates closed before my confidence dipped.

  Concentrating on the airport I picked because of its international flights, I crossed my fingers for luck and shimmered.

  The quiet of Evan’s neighbourhood peeled away to the hustle of Dallas-Fort Worth airport. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice my arrival. I could hear families arguing and see sole travellers climbing out of taxis, hefting their luggage. So far, so normal. Forcing one foot in front of the other, my insides a bundle of nerves, I walked through the doors and entered the airport, looking cautiously around me.

  The one and only time I’d been on a plane was a year ago when Étoile helped me escape from the Brotherhood. It seemed ironic now that everything had flipped on its head and I was escaping from my friends, heading towards my foe.

  Tucking myself quietly away in a corner, I looked around. There were several desks, the queues growing longer with every minute that I watched. With dawning realisation, it occurred to me that I wasn’t going to get anywhere without my passport and a ticket.

  For once, I was grateful for Étoile’s diligence in making me practice repetitively at using my telekinesis to move objects from different rooms, even through walls; but this was going to be a challenge. My wallet and phone were in my pockets and I identified the things I needed from my house: passport, clothing, a bag, and a jacket. I had no idea if I could shimmer objects this far. Yesterday, I sucked up the motivation to move myself, even if I didn’t feel totally confident about it. Moving myself all the way there, even if I made it, would leave me exhausted and I’d still need to get to an airport. No, the best thing to do was bring what I needed to me. Out of necessity, I had to try.

  I thought carefully about where my passport was, remembering that I kept it in the top drawer of my nightstand. Focusing on it, I held out my hand and summoned my magic, calling it to me. A smile of delight erupted on my face when I felt the low weight of my passport press down on my hand. Okay, I can do this.

  Next I tried calling a small bag, and a few clothes, just enough to last me several days, and the jacket hanging on the rack near the door. The one I was wearing yesterday was still balled up in Evan’s washing machine. Not wanting to get cocky, I ended it there and went to approach the BA desk.

  I had to brush my hand against the saleswoman’s hand as I showed her my passport, pushing the idea into her, the same way I’d seen Étoile and Seren do multiple times. I encouraged her to sell me a ticket for the next flight to London, and I actually did it! With my stomach continually flipping between panic and pride, I went through the motions of checking in, taking off my shoes and stepping through the scanners. An hour later, I sat in the departures lounge, fidgeting until my flight was called, expecting Evan or Étoile to turn up any minute.

  It was only when I was on the plane and taking off, the pressure on my ears suddenly heavy, that I relaxed. I was going home.

  ***

  Standing in the cool drizzle outside Gatwick, I didn’t feel the euphoric sense of homecoming that I anticipated. I thought I would feel something more, something more tangible. Relief, perhaps, or a rush of happiness. All around me, there were English accents; Southern, Northern, Midlands... accents I hadn’t heard in months, but the ones I couldn’t hear were what I craved the most.

  Since I hadn’t planned any further than hightailing it to England, rescuing Annalise, and getting the hell out of there, I knew I hadn’t thought things through as strategically as I should have. That was no reason to stand in the rain, getting steadily wetter though. I pulled my wallet out of my bag, extracting the small piece of notepaper on which I’d written the address from the Brotherhood’s original invitation. Hawkscroft, Yorkshire. Apparently, it didn’t need a street address, and from the entry I found on the internet, I knew it was a very large, grand, country house. It shouldn’t be hard to find. If I left now, I’d make it by early afternoon, which would give me plenty of time to scope out the area before dusk fell.

  Nevertheless, I had at least a three-hour drive ahead of me; time enough to make a feasible plan, I hoped.

  Walking back inside, I aimed for the nearest car hire service, showed them my licence, assured them I could drive on the left, and hired an inconspicuous Ford for the week. Slipping in on the right side seemed weird to me now, but I played with the gears for a moment, then cast a small confidence charm and drove out of the airport. Pointing the car north, I only crunched the gears once. Fine, twice.

  After living most of my life in London, stuck in either school or an office, I never had much cause to drive north. Once I merged with the M23, I followed the signs for the M25, and, after an hour, switched to the M1, the motorway that would take me all the way to Leeds. Then I would have to take the smaller country roads to get to Hawkscroft.

  As I sped past, I found I liked the rolling green fields, interspersed with the
occasional pasture of cows and horses. Despite the motorway disappearing far into the horizon, dissecting the green, it was lovely scenery. It reminded me of the countryside around Wilding a little, though more open and barer, with animals that weren’t about to get mauled by wolves. Everything, except the last thought that popped into my head, made my heart pang for my Wilding home.

  Pushing all thoughts of Evan aside – especially the image of him discovering I was gone, causing him to probably start spitting feathers – I stepped on the accelerator and pushed on. A glance at the dashboard clock and a quick mental calculation told me I still had more than two hours. Not only did I need to explore the local terrain, but I had to find a bed for the night too.

  Part of me wondered if the Brotherhood already knew I was here. It was wise to assume that they did, so, every few minutes, I glanced in the rear view mirror, but I didn’t see any vehicle that appeared to be tailing me.

  Originally, on the flight over, I thought about marching to their front door, demanding to see Annalise and shimmering us both out of there. But I knew that was ridiculous. They would certainly assume I would use my magic, and I wasn’t sure if they would take some measures against that, most likely involving violence against me. I shivered and turned up the heat, filling the small car with warm air.

  I thought about Evan a lot, the ring on my finger a constant reminder as I gripped the wheel, and how mad he probably was at me. I hoped he would understand. I wondered what would happen if it were me who were kidnapped and in danger, would he come for me quickly? I decided that he probably would and somehow, that made my decision easier to abide. I wondered if he would shimmer in his daemon way across the Atlantic, and if that were even possible. I wondered what Étoile was doing and if she were really all that surprised I was gone.

  Most of all, what I tried to avoid thinking about was Annalise being hurt. Naturally, thinking about Annalise turned my thoughts to Gage. He and Beau would be worried as hell.

  Pulling off at the next service station, I parked the car in one of the bays and reached for my phone, which I placed on the passenger seat, while my carry-on bag slumped in the foot well. It had half its charge left and I could see seven missed phone calls. Scrolling through, I saw five from Evan and two from Étoile and my voicemail showed there were messages. I winced. The voicemails I would deal with later. Or never. If I didn’t listen, I wouldn’t have to deal with how mad they must be. Pathetic, I know.

  Holding the phone for a moment, I thought about what I’d say to Gage but really, I had nothing to tell him as Hawkscroft was still a couple hour’s drive away. Right now, if he’d seen the notes on my laptop, he knew everything I knew. I tossed the phone back on the seat and switched the engine back on. All I could do now was drive and, in a couple of hours, I hoped I would know a little more.

  With unexpected traffic delays through road works, then a crash, plus one service station sandwich and two black coffees later, it was dusk by the time the SatNav indicated the turning for the road to Hawkscroft. Reducing my speed, I made the turn, pressing on slightly slower than the speed limit, but not slow enough to look suspicious, taking my time to pass by Hawkscroft.

  The house was set far back from the road, and in the cold dimness of twilight, it looked huge and imposing. A rolling mist settling in behind it gave it an ominously dark air.

  Two large brick pillars announced the entrance to the grounds; a gravel driveway wound its way to a half-moon parking area, dissected in the middle by a brick fountain. Each pillar was framed by a wall, some five or six feet high that wound along the boundary lines, blocking my view as I passed by. Entering the woods, which bordered the road ahead, I drove slowly, finally parking my car in a small clearing a few minutes away before killing the lights.

  Tucking my hair under a knit cap that I’d stuffed into my jacket pocket, I grabbed the flashlight from the glove box. I checked the battery level on my phone, making sure it was on silent mode and pulled on gloves. Walking cautiously across the road, I aimed in the direction of the house, staying in the shadows until I reached the wall. I was much too close to the road, and anyone who might happen down it, so, keeping the wall to my left, I started to edge around it, away from the road.

  I couldn’t hear anything but the wind whistling through the trees. So far, no dogs barking. A good sign, but I could sense the faint trace of magic on the other side of the wall. Something was protecting the house, a rudimentary sort of alarm; a bit more basic than the wards protecting my house and it continued the further I walked.

  Passing what seemed to the tallest part of the wall, the woods flanking my side seemed to close in. The ground was soft, muddy, patched with grass, nettles and weeds. It didn’t look like anyone ever walked here, but even so, I tried to stay on alert and not worry about walking into a lonely, dark wood while people minutes away wanted to kill me. All I had to do was keep quiet and just look. So long as I stayed unseen, I would be okay.

  After five minutes of trampling through the undergrowth, the wall started to dip a bit until, if I stood on tiptoes, I could just see the house. There were lights on in the few windows here and there, their curtains already drawn. I could see bright light spilling across the terrace, onto the lawn at the back. I ducked when a floodlight suddenly lit the area just as a fox raced past it.

  Keeping to a crouch, I moved on until the outbuildings loomed on the other side. Standing on tiptoes again, I tried to steal a look at the house, but I just wasn’t tall enough, so I looked around for something to stand on. Spying a large rock, I scurried over and pushed it towards the wall. Rooting around in my pocket, I pulled out my phone, set the camera function, switching the auto flash off, and pressed myself against the wall, sliding upwards until I could peek over.

  I was near what seemed to be on old stable yard. Two long rows of empty stalls were set at right angles around a concrete yard, a hundred yards or so from a rear entrance into the house. It looked deserted. I held up my camera and, moving it in a slow arc, started recording what I saw. After a minute, I stopped it and slid it back in my pocket to view later.

  As soon as I drove past, I knew the front entrance was too obvious to try and enter unseen, but the rear entrance had all kinds of hidey-holes. I decided my best bet would probably be to scale the wall a little further on and try and get into the house that way, once I figured out what kind of magic was protecting the house.

  First though, I needed to know where Annalise was. Evan and Étoile had been right, Annalise could be dead already. To me, however, she existed in a state of limbo, nothingness, until I knew one way or the other. Concentrating on her, I started to send out my magic to see if it would recognise her signature and tell me whether she was in the house or not. I felt the magic in the grounds give way. It was no match for mine. Whatever witch had spun the charm of protection was not a strong one, I decided.

  I was so busy concentrating on detecting Annalise, that I didn’t hear a thing until a twig snapped behind me. I started to turn my head to see what caused it, hoping it was probably the fox, or some other kind of small woodland creature.

  A hand clamped over my mouth and another arm wrapped around my upper body, dragging me backwards. Then I was tumbling to the ground, my screaming muffled against the gag as I fought.

  Nine

  Instead of relying on my magic, I used my instincts and went for an old-fashioned elbow driven straight into my assailant’s kidneys. When he yelped and staggered back, I wheeled away and kicked him hard on the knee, following that with a thump that connected with his cheek, knocking him backwards. I didn’t waste any time waiting to see who it was or if I’d hurt him, instead launching into a sprint, not the least bit worried about the noise I was making as I crashed through the undergrowth.

  I hadn’t gotten far when something barrelled into the back of me, sending me sprawling, face first, into the wet leaves. A body pressed onto me, pinning my arms to the damp forest floor and I felt a knee in the small of my back. I wriggled and bucked,
trying to throw my attacker off me.

  “I’m not trying to hurt you,” hissed a furious male voice, his breath cold against my cheek. “I’m trying to stop you getting yourself killed. Calm down, okay? I’ll let you go, but don’t make any noise. If they hear us, we’re both dead.”

  The hands released my arms, slowly. Then the pressure on my back was gone. I lifted my head and wiped off a leaf, probably leaving a streak of dirt in its place, and scrambled to my feet as quietly as I could, bracing myself to attack if I needed to as I turned around. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Who are you?” The figure moved closer to me until I could see him in the moonlight, which pierced the shadows of the trees. He was dressed, head to toe, in black with a thick padded coat, and a cap pulled low over his forehead. His face was smeared black and brown; camouflage paint, I thought, but the whites of his eyes shone. He wasn’t particularly broad, but he was tall enough that I had to look up at him.

  “I asked first!” I tensed, waiting for any sudden moves.

  The man looked at me for a long moment, his shoulders dropping, seeming to relax slightly. “You’re a witch,” he said, at last. I must have looked shocked because he continued, “I don’t know you and I know all the witches here. I’m Anders. Anders Black and I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I focused on him and observed the register of difference around him that told me he was witch too, or a warlock, but nothing else, nothing that alarmed me. He definitely wasn’t one of the Brotherhood, which gave me some relief. “What did you mean when you said you were stopping me from getting myself killed?”

  “You can’t go in that way. It’s too obvious. I, uh, we’ve, been keeping this place under watch for months. Go in that way and you’ll set off an alarm that triggers a trap.”

  “I know. It covers the whole grounds.” I hadn’t been planning on scaling the wall tonight, but if I had without realising what Anders was telling me... Well, he would have saved me. I appreciated him playing the hero card, even if he had no idea who I was. “Um, thanks, I guess.”