Sydney was also a full-blown witch, like her grandmother.
I stole another long drink of coffee while the phone rang and was not at all surprised when Sydney answered the phone with an exasperated tone. “It’s about time you called me back.”
“Good morning to you, too, Syd.”
“Oh, sorry, Chance. I thought it was John. He was supposed to call me back this morning to make a date, and I haven’t heard from him,”
“Well, I’m sure your charming ways will bring him around,” I teased her. John was the current flavor of the month. Sydney’s on-again, off-again romantic woes were often a topic of conversation over a pair of chai lattes when we’d get together. John just seemed more stubborn than the rest, sometimes on for six months, but often off for longer, and in the five years of their tempestuous relationship, I’d never heard Sydney threaten to find someone else.
“Don’t be a nit.” Sydney laughed over the phone. “And it’s about time you called me. I’ve been worried for days. I heard from Millie who talked to Jenna and she heard from Betty that Jack was back in town.”
“Been and gone,” I quipped, flopping back in the chair and propping my foot on the desk.
“Really? Well that’s a bummer. I was thinking I’d ask the two of you over for dinner. It’s been years, but I think Jack liked the quesadillas I used to make.” Sydney’s voice held an undercurrent of coyness, and I imagined the thoughts running rampant through her head were the wild and dirty variety.
“Syd, I’m pretty sure you didn’t leave me the ominous mojo message because you wanted to invite me and Jack to dinner.” I couldn't keep the smile off my face at the image that painted. Only Sydney. She could crack a mime.
“Fine, fine. I’ve been having dreams. Bad dreams. About you.” Wanna vague that up for me a bit, Syd?
“Look, Syd.” I dropped my leg to the floor and leaned forward. “I’m really busy. I don’t have time to play the ‘hocus pocus, let’s spook with a focus’ game.”
“Hey, that rhymed and it was smarmy.”
“Yes it was. So, what’s the deal?” I drained the last bit of coffee and pushed the mug over to the side. I pulled open a drawer and dug around for a pen.
“I’m serious, Chance.” Sydney’s voice sharpened with impatience and probably a small amount of annoyance. I imagined her twisting the phone cord around her finger in a strangling motion. “I’ve been having these dreams for weeks now. They were vague at first, and full of nebulous shadows, but they are getting clearer by the day and very, very dangerous.”
I sighed and shut the door with a bit of a thud. “Syd, no games?”
“No games. I’m serious.”
“Well there’s been some stuff going on…”
“I knew it!” Sydney’s voice practically shrieked through the phone. “And when were you going to call me?”
“This isn’t exactly ‘have a latte and discuss the latest hideous fashion’ stuff. It’s pretty serious and, until these last few days, I didn’t realize how serious.”
“I can be there in an hour.”
“No, not here, Syd. Why don’t I come there?”
“I thought you said you weren’t going to step foot in the shop again?”
I laughed a little. “Did you get rid of that awful statue?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Then I can come there. And, no, don’t start again.” I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to smooth out the tangles. “I’ll grab my keys and head out. I should be there in thirty minutes, maybe forty-five, depending on the traffic. I’ll even bring mochas.”
“All right, cinnamon latte, low fat for me. I’ll close for an hour when you get here, and don’t take any detours, okay? I’m kinda scared for you.”
“I promise Syd, I’ll just get the drinks and head there. No detours and we can talk. You can tell me about the dreams and maybe help me figure out a few things.”
I should have called Sydney last week when this whole nightmare resurfaced into my life. She was a really good listener when she wasn’t overburdening me with crystals, incense and some of the worst taste in fertility statues I’d ever seen.
“Good deal, Chance. I’ll see you soon, then.”
“You bet.”
I hung up the phone and reached for my duffel. I might as well check my supplies before heading out. Sydney gave me refills on anything I needed. I glanced at the phone and thought about the calls from Jack and Victor.
I didn’t want to talk to either one of them right now. One didn’t believe me. And the other was just as obtuse in the other direction.
I paused after slinging the duffel onto my shoulder and glanced down at Romeo, who watched me with his enigmatic eyes half-slitted. “What?” I wondered briefly what I would do if he started talking to me like some cat from a novel.
“I’d eat my shoe,” I announced caustically and resettled the bag on my shoulder. “Behave yourself, Romeo, and don’t look at me like that. I know what I’m doing.” I frowned as he simply blinked once and swished his tail.
“I do know what I’m doing. I’m just fuzzy on what I’m going to do about it. ” My voice lacked a certain conviction, not that Romeo seemed to care one way or the other. “But I’m going to figure that out. Now be a good cat.”
I left Romeo and his air of disapproval behind. I saw my FBI watchers parked where they had a good view of the house and nodded to them slightly before letting myself into my blue Bug. I tossed the duffel into the back and slid into the driver’s seat. One twist of the key and I was ready to hit the road. I gave my FBI babysitters a few minutes to get it together before leading our little entourage onto the road.
It took fifteen minutes longer at Starbucks than I thought it would. The line was out the door, but the baristas worked double time with accommodating smiles. Soon enough though, I tucked back into the Bug, latte cups in hand, and I experienced a momentary sense of normalcy as I drove through the winding streets where Elden became Centerville Road. The babysitter squad firmly planted three cars back and I appreciated the vigilance, but their presence was incredibly obvious.
I suppose obvious is what they wanted. I pushed the thought out of my mind as I found my opening and floored the Bug across the road and into the parking lot. I slowed long enough to make sure the babysitters were with me before negotiating around the parking lot to pull up in front of The Magic Stop.
Killing the engine, I stared at the large crystalline display in the window and winced. Sydney must have found a really nice deal on crystal statuary and prisms. Sunshine bounced brightly off all of them, sending dazzling colors spiraling everywhere. A pair of uniquely stitched medicine wheels hung prominently in the window along with a few dark green and iridescent dragons. Trust Sydney to go all out.
I shook my head and let myself out of the car, scooping up both cups as I went. My shadows parked their car a few slots down as I strolled toward the front door of The Magic Stop. I wasn’t remotely surprised when the door flew open and two women were ushered out.
The doom and gloom of the morning vanished. No matter how wrong things went, Sydney was the kind of best friend who just made it better by being there, even when she nagged. Maybe especially when she nagged.
Sydney’s natural—as vibrant as her temper—red hair tumbled down to the middle of her back, pulled tightly back from her face into a thick cascade of curling ponytail held fast by a black band decorated with gold stars.
“It’s about time.” She grinned from the doorway, one hand on her hip as she waited for me to precede her into the shop. “I thought I was never going to get rid of them. They wanted me to work out what their houses would be doing on three potential wedding dates and whether or not they would be in conjunction with the groom and his family.”
I frowned at the description as I heard Sydney bolt the door behind me. I took a couple of steps to the counter to set down the latte cups. Pushing my sunglasses back onto my head, I glanced around the shop.
“The gro
om and his family?” I’ll admit it, astrology bored me to tears. The idea you could predict the best dates for certain things to happen based on whose celestial house was having a ‘conjunction function’ with someone else’s just seemed a little too far-fetched.
Of course, I talk to fairies, so what do I know?
“Yes.” Sydney spread her arms wide, bangle bracelets jangling. “I mean c’mon. I’m a decent astrologer, but they were
talking about a few hours of work.”
“Well you could have just done a ‘see’ and found out,” I suggested helpfully and leaned against the counter. The incense was balmy sandalwood, soft and relaxing. It also seemed to be cleansing the air, and for the first time in a few days, I felt the muscles in my back begin to unknot.
“Are you nuts? A see, for that?” Sydney’s disgust reverberated through her tone as she circled around me to grab her latte. “Oooh, heaven. Thank you. C’mon."
I ducked between the hanging sparkle of crystals to her back room, with its colorful rugs and throws —a gypsy tent feeling space, easily disguising the storage shelves.
“No.” My red-haired friend pursed her lips in disgust, flopped down comfortably onto a beanbag chair and pointed her flaming red toenails at the one opposite it. “Sit and commune with the all-seeing Sydney.”
“I think I’ll just sit and drink my coffee if it’s all the same to you.”
“That works.”
I chose the beanbag opposite Sydney’s and sank into it, enjoying the squish of the fabric and the hiss of air as it conformed to me. I could just make out the low playing flute music drifting from the front of the store to waft like a barely felt breeze in the air around us. The mocha cooled rapidly, but my gulps seemed to be finishing it off well enough.
“You’re pale,” Sydney mused, twining a strand of hair around her fingertip. “And you have that haunted look in your eyes again.”
“I don’t tan well. Look, Syd. I love a visit as much as anyone, but you said you wanted to talk about something specific.”
“You’re impatient and out of sorts, and if you had an aura I could see…”
“I don’t have an aura?”
“I can’t see auras.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, I would imagine your aura is probably all kinds of gray and gloomy, maybe even streaky rather than a bright shiny copper with some bold greens and Earthy browns.”
“You’re making that up.”
“Like I said, I can’t see auras!” Sydney sighed. “And you make things damn difficult.”
“I’m sorry. It’s been hard the last few days. Jack and I had a disagreement on top of everything else,” I confessed with the sigh of one long-suffering. The one problem with Sydney was you felt compelled to confess to her. She didn’t need to cajole or tease or even trick you into admitting information you didn’t want to admit. She possessed a soothing presence in a world where I saw very few of them. In that respect, she reminded me very much of our grandmothers.
And I knew very well why they didn’t get along in their day but eventually recovered from those differences and put them aside before Gran died. Gran was not a woman lightly given to confidences, and I’m sure she found this habit of Sydney’s family to be intensely irritating.
“I knew you guys must have fought. You sounded forlorn on the phone.”
“I did not sound forlorn!”
“You did! You always sound a little lost when you and Jack are out of sorts.”
“We’re not out of sorts that often, Sydney. Have you ever thought of going into investigative journalism? You can go toe to toe with Barbara Walters or Oprah for getting people to cry and confess.”
It was Sydney’s turn to burst out laughing and roll her eyes. “Oh, that would be rich, but it’s against the rules. The family would never approve. So, now—I’ll be serious.” She sat forward and crossed her legs beneath her voluminous skirt. Her wrists jingled a tune as her latte cup was set aside and her fingers formed a steeple. “I’ve been dreaming about you and Randall Oakes.”
“Maybe you should drink less caffeine.”
“He’s alive, Chance.”
“I know.”
Okay, so I admit I dropped that bomb just to watch her reaction, and as her mouth formed a perfect “O” of outrage, I felt rewarded. “You know?”
“Yes, I know.”
“How?”
I was silent and the amusement at the small bit of pithiness faded. I suddenly found myself wishing I’d turned down Sydney’s request to show up. I didn’t want to lie to her. Actually, I didn’t know if I could lie to her, or even if I wanted to. Sydney was a real equal in this crazy situation, but I so did not want to involve her. Not with what I’d learned.
It wasn’t fair to her.
“How, Chance?” Sydney’s open expression clouded with a frown.
“I can’t really talk about it.” That was true, technically speaking. “It’s an ongoing investigation.”
“Oh, bosh gobbins!”
I blinked at the colorful invective. Sydney’s were often fairly creative because she could actually cast spells, so it was easier for her to curse in gibberish that meant nothing and was therefore likely to do nothing.
“I’m almost afraid to ask…”
Sydney stood up, agitated, and began to pace. Her bangles jangled an uneven cadence to her motion, and my frown deepened as I watched her stride back and forth. I chewed my lip and swallowed back the need to press her. She’d tell me when she was ready but, based on her level of agitation, I thought I might be better off not knowing.
“He’s going to bury you, Chance,” she announced suddenly and in a voice that was deadly quiet. “I see him putting you into the Earth, and I don’t think there’s anything you can do about it.”
The earth crumbled, falling on my face. I closed my mouth to avoid swallowing any. Dirt rapidly filled the hole, blotting out the sun.
”Chance!” A male voice shouted. I wanted to respond, but soil threatened suffocation on all sides.
Quiet.
Must remain quiet.
Buried alive and silent.
Oh, hell.
I was right. I would have been better off not knowing.
Twenty One
I finally managed to convince Sydney I wasn’t going to immolate if I walked out the front door of her shop. She had business to do, and I needed to sort some things out.
“I’ll call, I promise.” I crossed my heart and waved as I flipped her open sign back into place and slipped out into the sunshine. I slid my sunglasses into place and sighed. Seriously? Billy Jamison leaned against the side of the Bug.
“Billy.”
“Hiya, Chance. I didn’t want to interrupt, but I thought you wouldn’t mind having a cup of coffee and a chat.”
“I’d rather we didn’t.” I didn’t want to sound rude. But I was nursing a bit of a headache. Not to mention the fact I felt pretty worn out from the last few days, and the last thing I needed was another FBI-style grilling to make my day. Traffic whistled past as shoppers came and went. I imagined Sydney’s expression behind the glass of her shop as she watched this exchange.
“Chance, I think I’m going to have to insist.” Billy straightened and I couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses he sported.
“And if I refuse, Billy? What are you going to do? Arrest me?” I’m not entirely sure where the belligerence erupted from, but it felt good to be angry for a change. I was tired of feeling frightened and bullied. While it wasn’t their fault, I was definitely tired of the FBI.
“I really hope we won’t have to resort to that Chance, but you are a material witness in an ongoing investigation.”
“But I’m not a suspect. I’m a witness.” The words hissed out. “Key phrase there. And I’m about to become a really hostile witness at this rate.” I wanted to rein my temper back in, but my stomach churned. I could taste the mocha in the back of my throat, fouled with stomach acid and regret. Days of frustrati
on cramped my insides.
Billy held his hands out pleadingly. “Chance, we’re all on the same side here. I want to catch this guy. I know you do, too. You’ve got talents, and I know Jack’s a bit pigheaded where that is concerned, but I do believe you.”
I felt the frown deepening in my forehead, and I looked away from Billy to stare at the passing traffic. His words mollified some of the anger I felt, but not all of it. “What do you want?”
“I just want to talk. That’s it. I have some questions. I need some clarifications.”
“Can we do it over coffee?” I gave in a little and looked back at him.
“We can do it anywhere you want. I really do want to help, and I’m really sorry about how upside down your life has become. But I’m not one of the bad guys, and neither is Jack.”
My stomach gave a sour little twist. I scowled as I dug into the pocket of my jeans for the car keys. “There’s a Starbucks not far from here. We’ll get some coffee and talk.”
“You have a thing for Starbucks, don’t you?” Billy’s mouth formed a half-grin, and I felt a grin of my own starting to form in response.
“A little bit of a thing. But they’re expensive so you’re buying.”
“Deal.” Billy nodded. “We’ll follow you.” He turned, and I watched him walk back over to a car parked next to my erstwhile guardians. Wonderful. The little train just gained a new caboose.
I glanced back at the shop as I opened the Bug’s door and waved to Sydney. I saw the worry still etched into her expression and tried to give her a reassuring smile.
A few minutes later, Billy and I were ensconced at an outdoor table under a flapping canopy sipping from our white Starbucks cups.
“So?” I prompted him, taking another sip. “We’re here. Let’s not beat around the bush and I’ll do my best to not act like a harridan.”
“You’re not a harridan, Chance. If anything, you’ve been a model of cooperation, at least until the other night.” He pushed his sunglasses up briefly to rub at his eyes underneath. I wondered about how much sleep he wasn’t getting with the investigation going on. I imagined his days were pretty tough, considering this case involved a suspect who was supposed to be dead.
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