Slightly Spellbound

by Kimberly Frost

  I nodded. “I’m not planning to align myself with any faery court,” I said, deciding that it was in my best interest to change subjects. “Can you tell me how to remove this spell?”

  “To undo what’s done, you must return to the spot where it was laid.”

  My mind reeled. “Go back to the location where I did the spell? What if I don’t know exactly where that was?”

  She smiled. “Then we’ll call you the Invisible Witch.”

  “Can you find the spot, Nix?”

  “I don’t want to find it!” she said petulantly.

  “That wasn’t my question.”

  “You smell like witches’ death magic. You stink!” she said, pinching her nose.

  “C’mon, Nixella, please lead me to the spot where I put the concealment spell on myself,” I said.

  “For two mountains of pastries, bigger than me?”

  “Done.”

  Nixella huffed and then took off. I raced to keep up. She may be small, but she’s sprightly.

  By the time I reached the spot, I was out of breath and muscles I didn’t even know I had burned like crazy.

  “Nixella, a friend of mine was kidnapped by a skeleton creature. Is that someone from the Unseelie or Seelie court?”

  “No.”

  I rested my hands on my knees, sucking air. “Do you know what a lych is?”

  “No. Don’t know and don’t care. I’m leaving now, you wretched witch. I’ll leave you a list of what I want for layers and then a week later, I’ll collect my bounty. If you don’t have it for me, I’ll stab you in your fat human heart with another poison arrow and push you in the bog until you’re more than dead.”

  “More than dead?” I murmured skeptically.

  She scrunched her face in a furious expression.

  “Right, sure. Well, thank you for your help, Nixella. I’m going to make you frosting so sweet, your teeth will think it’s Samhain all over.”

  “You better or it’s the bog for you,” she said, and disappeared.

  As always, she was the picture of Southern charm.

  I straightened and rolled my shoulders to loosen them. I dug my toes into the dirt and stretched out my arms.

  I made myself invisible,

  Though I did not mean to.

  I want myself revealed;

  Bodies should not be seen through.

  I couldn’t tell if the spell had worked or not but figured that I’d given it my best shot for the moment.

  I stretched and took off for Bryn’s place. Unfortunately, when I arrived, I would have to tell him it was necessary for me to return to a place he wasn’t fond of. Zach’s house.

  32

  I REACHED BRYN’S property at sunrise and ran into Mercutio. I knew right away that the spell to make me visible had worked because he darted over to me.

  I gave him a quick hug and then filled him in on the night. He yowled and yawned and followed me into Bryn’s kitchen. I ducked my head and avoided eye contact with the cameras. It was nearly time for the security guy switchover. Steve from nights would go home, being replaced by Pete on days. I hoped they were debriefing and not looking at the monitors since I was disheveled and filthy in torn pajamas.

  I went upstairs to Bryn’s room, where there were no cameras. The bed hadn’t been slept in. He must be exhausted.

  After a hot shower, I dried my hair, then put on a plum satin dress, underwear, and a borrowed maroon sweater and sweatpants. I added a pair of thick gym socks. Passing a mirror, I shook my head.

  “You look silly,” I said to myself. But the part of me that had been freezing all night didn’t care. I was layering up for warmth. And also if some of my outfit got destroyed, I’d still have something left to wear, I decided hopefully.

  Downstairs, I found Mercutio asleep on the kitchen floor and stepped over him. I made myself toast with butter and honey and then went to the library. Bryn slept in a big leather chair with his feet resting on the matching ottoman. A two-foot-tall stack of hardcover books sat next to him.

  He looked as sweet as the honey I licked from my lips. I hated to disturb him, but I needed to. I bent and kissed his neck just below his ear before I said, “Hey, can you wake up?”

  I squeezed his arm and jostled him gently.

  “Hey, Bryn?”

  His black lashes stayed stubbornly against each other. I gave him a harder shake.

  “I’m up. What time are closing arguments?” he mumbled.

  I smiled and kissed him again. His lids rose, and he licked his lips as I leaned back.

  “I’m sorry I had to wake you up.”

  “Come closer,” he said, catching my arms and pulling me into the chair. He kissed me and curled me against his chest.

  I snuggled with him for several moments, then leaned my head back. “It sure would be nice if we had time to fool around and then get some sleep.”

  “Don’t we?”

  “I’m real sorry,” I said earnestly. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  “When?” he asked, staring at my mouth.

  “Soon,” I said, rubbing my thumb over his lower lip. “I promise.”

  He sighed and closed his eyes.

  “I know you’re tired, but I need to talk things over with you. Then I’ll leave you alone to rest.”

  “Ask.”

  “What’s a lych and how do I kill one?”

  His eyes opened. “A lych?” He sat forward. “That term sounds familiar. Where—?”

  I opened my mouth, but he held out a hand to stop me.

  “Wait, let me think. Lych,” he murmured, rolling the word over on his tongue. “I read something. Where?”

  I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. After several more moments of struggling, he blinked.

  “I remember,” he said, nodding his head. “There hasn’t been one in hundreds of years, if ever. The only thing I’ve ever read that referenced a lych was written in the 1600s. I was doing research and came across it in an archive. I’d never heard the term before. More digging revealed a few legends that source materials thought were likely fictitious.”

  “The faery guy said the skeleton guy’s a lych.”

  “How could that be possible?” Bryn murmured. “From what I read, a lych is a powerful wizard who’s made himself immortal by taking an undead form.”

  “Like a vampire?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Do lyches have to feed?”

  “According to legend, yes. I think in that account the lych used death magic to transform himself and then had to periodically reanoint himself with power at a terrible price.”

  “What price? Do they feed on the magic of pretty young witches?”

  “Maybe,” Bryn said, nodding. “I think in the story, the price of power was the death of innocent people. But how could a lych exist now and live undetected? If he stalks witches in urban areas, someone would see him. If he kills them, someone would investigate and track him down.”

  “I think this undead wizard guy’s been killing girls for decades. Maybe centuries. I think he’s the one who killed Edie.”

  Bryn’s brows rose. “What makes you think so?”

  I explained about the vision I’d had when my blood mixed with the mud and his body goop. “His magic is celestial, so he does his spells outside. Edie’s body was near a pond.”

  “A pond? I thought she was killed in Manhattan.”

  “There’s that big park in the city, right?”

  “Central Park,” Bryn said with a nod.

  “Are there any ponds in it?”

  Bryn nodded. “But doing a ritual in Central Park without being discovered is hard to imagine.”

  “Not if he did a spell to repel people. There was a big moat around the place where he was keeping Vangie. It smelled bad and made me want to turn back. I bet if I’d been a regular person, I would have.”

  Bryn rubbed his eyes. “That may have worked. Complicated rituals might take an hour or two to complete
, but if he did them in the dead of a winter night when very few people would’ve been walking through the park, a repulsion spell could’ve given him the cover he needed.”

  “Can you research how to kill it?”

  “I can try,” he said. “There’s nothing about them in modern books. I’d imagine that’s by design. They must have been so dangerous that the leaders of the World Association of Magic decided to wipe away any reference to them.”

  I climbed off him. He ran his eyes over my outfit and cocked a brow.

  “I’m tired of being cold.”

  “Sure, but one of your layers doesn’t have to be a cocktail dress. I can lend you a wool coat, and a hat and gloves to go over the sweats.”

  “The coat and gloves will be too big on me and might mess up my fighting or escaping moves.” I twirled and kicked to show him how quick and mobile I could be in my current outfit.

  Bryn smirked. “All right.” He rose from the chair and walked to the bookshelf, then shook his head. “I don’t have a single volume that includes information about lyches. I need a library with archives.” He turned and walked to his computer. “Some old documents have been scanned to preserve them. I don’t have clearance, but Andre could get me into the computers at WAM Headquarters through an electronic back door.”

  “Be careful, though. I don’t want you guys to get in trouble,” I said, walking to the door.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “I’m—” I only hesitated a second. “I’m going to Zach’s.”

  Bryn’s hand reached for the phone, but fell as he turned. “Why?”

  “He has the case file on Edie’s murder. I want to read it. There might be some clues.”

  “Is that likely? The police won’t have had information about the magical aspects of the case.”

  “Probably not, but I should look it over. The police might not have known the magical significance of things, but they recorded their observations. Edie saw something she recognized. Maybe I’ll notice something in the reports.”

  Bryn nodded.

  “You can come with me to Zach’s if you want.”

  “No. He’ll be more cooperative if I’m not there.” He studied me for a moment. “You said you’ve made your choice. I trust you.”

  I smiled, proud of him. In his place, I don’t know that I could’ve been as calm. I pressed my fingers to my lips and blew him a kiss. “I’ll be back soon,” I promised.

  On the drive to Zach’s house, the adrenaline had worn off and the honey toast had kicked in, so my eyes tried to drift shut. My exhausted body wanted to do a Sleeping Beauty impression.

  No! I pinched my thigh and sucked in a breath at the pain. Yep, that worked. I’m awake.

  Since the lych creature relied on celestial magic, I hoped sunrise had foiled his plans. My arrival had forced him to move Vangie from the site where he’d started his ritual. The staging had been pretty involved with its repulsion spell, tent, and flowers. It would take some time and effort to get another place ready. If I could figure out where he’d gone with Vangie, I’d have all day to find her and defeat him. If I didn’t find him by sunset, though, I bet he’d finish his power-stealing spell, and that would be the end of Vangie.

  I didn’t even have a locket to preserve Vangie’s soul in. My understanding was that my great-great-grandmother Lenore had tethered Edie to the locket so she wouldn’t be lost or destroyed by the deadly magic on her. It had saved her since the nature of her death had somehow made it impossible for her soul to cross over naturally to the other side.

  I shivered. There was nothing more terrible than imprisoning or destroying someone’s soul. Lenore’s protection spell allowed Edie to roam the world and to interact with some of the living and most of the dead on earth. Other spells, malicious spells, that held a dead soul didn’t allow any freedom or peace. A soul could literally be held prisoner while it relived the trauma of the death of its body. Bryn’s mom’s soul had been kept that way. I’d felt her pain and would never forget it. If that was what Skeleton Guy had in mind for Vangie, there was nothing I wouldn’t do to stop him.

  I shuffled up the walk to Zach’s, then knocked twice and rang the bell.

  He answered the door in sweats and a T-shirt with sleep-tousled hair. “Who dressed you?” he asked. “Rollie the vampire and our gym coach from middle school?”

  “Bite your tongue. Rollie would be furious if I let him take the blame for this outfit.”

  “So what gives?”

  I waved a hand. “It’d take too long. I came to see the police file on Edie’s murder. I have reason to believe I met her killer last night.”

  Zach stepped back and waved me inside. “Tell me what happened,” he said.

  I rubbed my eyes as I entered. I took a deep breath and rambled for several minutes. It wasn’t the most coherent story ever, but I covered the highlights.

  “Birds, huh?” Zach said, running a hand through his unruly curls. “There was a bird guy . . .”

  “A bird guy?” I echoed.

  “They found a couple of feathers beneath her body. The guy claimed he’d given her feathers for the fringe on her dress and that they must have come loose and been in the bedding.”

  “She died in Central Park.”

  “No, her body was found in her own apartment.”

  “He must have moved it.”

  Zach studied me. “There’s physical evidence to support that. The back of her dress had loose dirt on it. Since she’d been dropped off at her apartment and had been found there, the New York detectives didn’t give it much thought. But the timeline of her movements didn’t explain it. I wondered when she was outside lying on her back on the ground. And why? Did she lie down on a whim to look up at the stars? Or was she pushed down or dragged through the dirt?”

  “Why would her killer move her, though? Pretty risky to carry her from the park to a building. Why not just kill her in the park and leave her body there?”

  Zach shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t want the body to be found right away? Edie was known for disappearing. Under normal circumstances, her body could’ve stayed undiscovered for days.”

  “Was she found right away?”

  He nodded.

  “How come?”

  “Her sister sensed something was wrong and went to the apartment. She let herself in using a spare key that Edie had given her. Edie’s body was still warm. The police believe that the murderer left by the fire escape when he heard someone at the door.”

  “Still warm?” I paused. “So he didn’t kill her in the park. He took her to the apartment to finish whatever he was doing,” I said. “Maybe that’s why Vangie’s not dead. Perhaps the ritual is done over time. For part of it, he needs the night sky. For part of it, he needs something that’s found indoors.”

  My stomach clenched. So the lych might already have a second location ready. Was he killing Vangie even now?

  “We have to hurry,” I said breathlessly. I felt dizzy and sick all at once, and my leg ached.

  I must have gone very pale because Zach put out a hand to steady me. “Easy, girl. Sit yourself down,” he said, steering me to the couch. “I’ll get you some juice.”

  “And the file. Hurry, Zach.” I pulled up my pant leg and my eyebrows shot up. The gator wounds on my calf that had been almost healed were fiery red and swollen, and there were small black rings around each one. I laid a hand on my thigh and pressed. The thigh wounds had been deeper than the calf ones, but they didn’t hurt. It was that fetid mud that my lower leg had been dipped in. I’d known it was full of poisonous magic. My calf had been submerged and now its wounds were infected. I put a hand to my head and wondered if I had a fever. My hands felt icy cold against my brow.

  I yanked the pant leg down when I heard Zach coming back. I didn’t want him to get distracted. I took the glass of orange juice, but before he could sit I said, “I’ve got a little headache. You think you could spare me an aspirin?”

  Zach gave me a
speculative look and didn’t set down the file before he left the room. Did he think I’d take off with it? I guess maybe he had his reasons for not trusting me, but it bugged me.

  I leaned over to the phone and picked it up. I called Bryn’s house, and he answered on the second ring. “Hey there, it’s me. That mud moat I told you about, I think it had poison magic in it. No wonder it smelled like sewage. The part of my leg that went into the mud is infected. The wounds are red with black rings around them. Can you look into the cure for that after you check on how to kill the lych?”

  “How do you feel?” Bryn asked.

  “All right, except a little dizzy. And my leg smarts like nobody’s business. Gotta go,” I said, hanging up as Zach returned. He glanced at the phone, but said nothing.

  I gulped down the aspirin and orange juice. He sat next to me and opened the thick file. It contained copies of really old papers. Some of the print was smudged and faded. I lifted the top pages close to my eyes.

  I read through the police timeline of Edie’s last night. She’d been at a party, gotten drunk on bootleg liquor, and gone home around one thirty in the morning. A man named Tim Pate dropped her off. He walked her to her door to make sure she got inside but said he didn’t go in. He’d been a main suspect, but the clothes he’d worn to the party hadn’t been bloody. They hadn’t found the weapon on him or at his apartment. And friends who’d seen him later that night said he’d acted normally. Also, Pate didn’t have a motive. No one had ever seen Edie argue with him.

  According to the report, Pate had been one of the few guys Edie knew that she hadn’t had a volatile affair with. It was pretty clear from the documents that the police thought Edie was a shrewish tart with no respect for her father or any of the men in her life. There was a definite tone to the report that suggested she’d gotten what she deserved. It shocked me to read it. In the pictures from the crime scene she looked so young. Also, I knew she’d had her reasons for rebelling. Her daddy had been mean and abusive. Besides, no matter what Edie was like, no one deserved to get stabbed to death. I wondered how hard the police had worked to solve the case. Maybe not very hard at all.