Spell of Vanishing

by Anna Abner

  Leaving the musty smelling closet of a bathroom, he recalled a dream from the night before. The hot little necromancer sleeping downstairs had made an appearance. He’d warned her, quite plainly, what happened to people popping up in his dreams. He killed them.

  Because since his nightmare, he wasn’t a good guy anymore. He was an anti-superhero. He didn’t help people, he hurt them.

  Chapter Six

  Cole lumbered downstairs, hesitant to lay eyes on Talia, but she was still asleep, curled like a kitten upon the foyer floor. He was rooting through their meager groceries—bottles of water and granola bars—when she stirred from her makeshift bed.

  She didn’t immediately meet him in the kitchen, though, and he was grateful for a few extra minutes to sort his thoughts as she used the downstairs bathroom.

  He had never been so ashamed. He’d broken down like a frightened child. In front of Talia.

  He squeezed his eyes shut at the memory.

  “Morning,” she greeted, sneaking up on him.

  He couldn’t make eye contact. The events of the night before were too fresh. “Help yourself to breakfast.” He distracted himself with a pad of sticky notes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Cole said. “I’m trying to make a plan.”

  “You’re acting like you’re embarrassed about last night, or something,” she said around a mouthful of granola. “It’s normal to have nightmares.”

  “No, it’s not.” He finally glanced up. “Scared little kids have nightmares.”

  “I just mean it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  “I’m not embarrassed.” He rubbed his eyes roughly, and then groaned in frustration. “Tell me more about Sylvester.”

  Her head fell forward, as if the words themselves pained her to say. “He was kidnapped nine days ago. If I prove myself loyal to the cabal they’ll let him go.”

  “Those soulless monsters.” They had to be stopped.

  Talia nodded in agreement. “Can you imagine looking into my sister’s eyes as she agonizes over the disappearance of her son and knowing who has Sylvester, but being unable to say anything? I lied in my statement to the police. I helped the search team comb the woods behind their house. And I know he’s not there, but like some kind of psychopath, I pretend.”

  “You’re not hurting anyone else on the slim chance he’s still alive,” Cole said.

  “I don’t want to!” A single tear fell, which she scrubbed away. “I don’t want any of this. But if Sylvester’s alive, I’m the only person who can save him.”

  “We’ll think of something.” He slammed a drawer in frustration. “There has to be a better plan than blindly doing everything the Dark Caster says. God, is this how he recruits all his followers?”

  “Maybe?” Talia guessed. “At least some of them. But people like the White Wraith are definitely there by choice.”

  “And you don’t know where your nephew’s being kept?”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t be here now. And before you ask, I cast a locator spell. Several, actually. They’ve created some kind of shield around him I can’t penetrate.”

  “No offense,” he said, “but your magic isn’t very strong. Do you mind if I try?”

  “Yeah. I would appreciate it, actually.”

  “Tell me everything,” Cole prompted. “Please.” The puzzle Talia presented had cleared his mind. For the first time since he’d woken up in the hospital, he felt nearly normal again. He knew this was real and not a dream and that was a huge improvement.

  “Not much. About two weeks ago the Carver approached me about joining the cabal. I refused. I don’t cast harmful spells. I don’t believe in it. Then a few nights later Sylvester was taken from his bedroom.”

  “Any clues or evidence?”

  “None. A spotless scene. No ransom note, either.” She inhaled deeply. “Then the Carver came to me with a new deal. If I proved my loyalty to the Dark Caster, Sylvester would be sent home safe. If I continued to be untrustworthy, my nephew would be tortured with worse and worse horrors until I found his mutilated body on my front stoop.” Talia sniffed back more tears, her voice crackling. “Of course I agreed to everything. At this point I don’t care what happens to me as long as Sylvester comes home safely.”

  “What did they ask you to do?” Because a lot of awful things were going on lately. Cole couldn’t help wonder how much of it she was responsible for, directly or indirectly.

  She gave him a pained look. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Fine. He’d find out eventually. No way around it. “But you did what they asked?”

  “Yes.” She tugged at her shorts.

  “And Sylvester’s still missing. How many tasks will you have to complete?” Cole asked, fighting the urge to stare at her legs.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “As many as they want. Until I’m loyal.”

  “That could go on the rest of your life. Sylvester could be dead.”

  She growled under her breath. “He’s not dead.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he’s an eleven-year-old boy, and not even the Dark Caster would murder a child.” Before he could argue, she added, “I have to believe that.”

  “What about Dani?” His thoughts muddled further. “She was abducted.” But she’d been in Talia’s house. “Or was she?”

  “She escaped,” Talia clarified. “She’s safe. Remember?”

  “Not really.” He forced a humorless chuckle. “Maybe Sylvester’s in the same place they kept her.”

  “I’ve been to the forest cabin, and he’s not there.”

  The dark cabal owned a house, one sturdy enough to keep a witch in for a prolonged stay. What felt like the first solid lead he had on the group since the meetinghouse burned down gave him new purpose. Renewed determination fired under his skin.

  “Did you look around? Were there similar buildings in the area, were—”

  “He’s not there.”

  “Have you been to all of the cabal’s properties? Is there anywhere else you can think of?” Cole pressed.

  “Don’t you think I’ve tried?” Talia snapped. “I searched. I made calls. I sent Hugh all over town. I can’t find him. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

  Odds were the kid was alive because he was better motivation alive and missing than dead and buried. But with no idea where he was, and the nearly unlimited options, it seemed like a more productive idea to focus on what they did know.

  “Okay. Let’s stick to the plan. Summon as many spirits as you can, and let’s convince the Dark Caster—”

  “Or the White Wraith.”

  “—to meet you. Searching the cabin will be plan B. One thing we’re not going to do,” he added, “is drive to Springfield. Happy Trails is where Dani works. Georgie must be her friend, and the cabal is trying to hurt Dani through Georgie.”

  “I wasn’t really going to rot her flesh,” Talia said softly. “Not unless one of them stood over me, giving me no choice.”

  He didn’t know what to say, or whether to believe her. So, he silently listed every member of the Dark Caster’s inner circle. Derek, the White Wraith, the Carver.

  He glanced at the woman across from him and added her name to his mental list.

  Derek, the White Wraith, the Carver, and Talia.

  She said, “I would’ve told her to disappear for a few days. And hope they didn’t have her under surveillance.”

  He slid his sticky note across the counter. “I thought of a couple other things to try today.”

  Summon the DC’s spirits.

  Track down the Carver’s killer.

  Find Derek.

  Visit cabal’s cabin.

  “My job’s first. I guess that means I’m up.” With a heartbreaking half smile, she walked outside.

  * * *

  Talia stood nervously in the yard. What would she do if one of the cabal’s spirits chewed her out in front of Cole? What wo
uld she do if one of them exposed her role in his abduction?

  “You know what to say?” Cole asked, slowly trailing her.

  “Push for a face-to-face meeting,” she said. “I got it.” With a stray stick, she drew a spell circle and four glyphs. Hugh was right on point with his power, and she summoned Michael.

  A gentle breeze rustled the full branches of a nearby tree. A spiny grasshopper leaped into her circle and then immediately out of it. But Michael didn’t appear.

  “Sometimes it takes a few minutes.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, and then re-drew the bridge glyph. “I’ll try Johanna.”

  But no one showed up.

  “Third time’s the charm.” She forced a laugh and then called out to another of the Dark Caster’s spirit familiars.

  Silence. Long, long minutes of silence.

  “I guess I got my answer.” She scrubbed out her spell circle with her feet and fled back inside the house.

  Safely within his barrier spell, Cole said, “I never expected it to be easy. We’ll just move forward with the other ideas.”

  “Right.” She grabbed her purse and checked its contents. And re-checked. “Of course.”

  They hadn’t come. Even though the last thing they’d heard, she’d been forcibly abducted from her home and locked inside a murder house. Any creature with half a heart would come when she called for help. Wouldn’t they?

  “I’ll be right back.” Clutching her bag, she fled to the downstairs bathroom and locked the door.

  She turned on her cell phone and discovered she’d missed four texts.

  Her best friend Jillian wrote, Don’t make me dance with these douchey guys by myself. It was quickly followed by a similar plea at closing time. Finally, at six that morning she’d written, I hate you and vodka and everything else. Call me.

  The fourth text was from a student at the high school, someone who wasn’t technically allowed to be texting her on her personal phone.

  McKenzie wrote, I really need to talk to you. It can’t wait.

  Of course it couldn’t. Rolling her eyes, she texted the girl, I’m out of town this weekend. I’ll see you at school on Monday.

  But she didn’t know what to say to Jillian yet. Her friend wouldn’t buy a lie about being busy. They knew each other too well.

  She’d deal with that problem later.

  Unfortunately, the texts hadn’t distracted Talia from the never-ending strain of guilt and fear. She simply sucked it up, the way she’d been doing for days, and faced Cole.

  “Okay.” She blinked violently, refusing to cry like a silly child in front of Burkov. After all, he’d been through the wringer more than once, and he wasn’t crying. “I’m ready.”

  “Before we do anything else, I need to go by my store,” he said. “I left something important there.”

  “I need a shower,” she added. “Can we stop by my house on the way?”

  He fluctuated between whether to waste the time or not but finally relented. “Before we leave our safe, little bubble here, though, let’s discuss everything we know so far.”

  “Sure.” She folded her arms tightly across her chest. “The Dark Caster and the White Wraith both live in or near Auburn.”

  “Because their followers and their victims live in the area,” Cole agreed. “Later, we’ll search news reports on the Carver’s death.”

  She shook her head sadly. “I don’t even know his real name.”

  “We’ll start with his home address and work out from there. These people may be powerful casters, but they aren’t criminal masterminds. At least, I don’t think they are. There must be records on them. They have driver’s licenses and birth certificates. Probably even mortgages and student loans. With a little work, they can be found.”

  Cole added, “He is a man, isn’t he? No one’s ever slipped up and called him a she?”

  “Never.”

  “He uses casters to do his dirty work,” Cole said. “Power hungry morons like Derek.”

  “Because he can’t cast magic anymore,” Talia added.

  “You’re right. The best way to get to him is to take out his witch.” Cole opened the front door and waved her through. “Without casters he’s dead in the water.”

  Talia crossed the front porch and the warped boards sang in a myriad of off-key voices. A gush of unnatural wind whipped her curls against her ears. And then a face was inches from hers. A young, furious face. The face of a dead child.

  Chapter Seven

  “Let me in!” the ghost screamed. “You don’t belong here!”

  Her heart a painful drumbeat in her chest, Talia stumbled back with her hands crisscrossed over her face.

  No, please, not Sylvester. She was afraid to open her eyes and see her sweet nephew’s face.

  But she opened them anyway.

  It wasn’t Sylvester.

  This child was younger. Thinner. His hair was pitch black where as Sylvester’s was dirty blond.

  But the thought of her nephew passing away and visiting her as a ghost was such an overwhelming and horrific thought, she found herself on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. Her breath raced in and out as her pulse thundered through her ears.

  Cole leapt between her and the ghost. “Leave her alone.”

  A lot of good it did. Spirits couldn’t see or hear him, not even this one.

  Though the weather didn’t actually change, an invisible storm picked up and blew dark clouds overhead, obliterating the sun’s rays and turning day into night. Talia gripped the railing, her knees suddenly rubber.

  “Let me in. Let me in!” The final words were so loud, so piercing, Talia clapped both hands over her ears.

  As quickly as he’d appeared, the child vanished.

  For a moment, Talia heard only her breath puffing in and out and a ringing in her ears.

  The dark clouds dissipated, and the sun returned.

  She hurried for her car, slamming the door after her and locking it with lightning speed.

  “Talia?” Cole tried to get her attention at least twice from the passenger seat before she looked up. “Are you okay, or not?”

  “I thought it was Sylvester.”

  Talia couldn’t make her hands work right, couldn’t get the appropriate key in the ignition. “The boy must’ve been a message from the dark cabal.” No, that didn’t make sense, either.

  “Let me.” Cole gently pried the keys out of her fingers and pushed the correct one into the ignition.

  “Do you know him?” she asked. Cole had all sorts of secrets. Maybe a furious child was one of them.

  “No.”

  He didn’t elaborate, didn’t volunteer an idea as to why she’d been attacked.

  “Maybe he was forced out of the house by your spell,” she ventured, because she’d rather sort theories than sit in silence. “He did say to let him in.”

  “You could have cast on him,” Cole said. “If you were that scared. You could’ve forced him away.”

  They obviously had very different ideas about magic. “I never learned to cast without prep,” she admitted. “I learned channeling power is a ritual. It’s a time for quiet contemplation on your knees, not spontaneity.” She frowned at Cole. “You act like you’re a gunslinger, or something.” He sort of looked the part with his rugged appearance and dark whiskers. “Like casting is the same as firing a six-shooter at your enemy.”

  “Who taught you how to cast?”

  “Hugh.” Talia glanced into the backseat. Her spirit companion wasn’t there, which was odd. He was always around. The fact that he hadn’t been waiting outside for her, and hadn’t appeared when she’d been so scared was out of character.

  “Anyway.” The adrenaline from the child’s attack was fading, and she could think clearly again. “Where’s your condo?” she asked, firing up the GPS in her car. “You need clean clothes as badly as I do.” Worse, actually. She wasn’t covered in dried blood.

  He gave her an address in Sailor’s Bay on the other
side of the New River Air Station, and she selected the quickest route.

  “Okay,” she said. “Your place first, then mine.”

  The idea of Sylvester’s ghost appearing unexpectedly was a horrifying proposition she hadn’t fully considered. Instead, she’d held on to the hope that everything would work out. Though the cabal was keeping him a prisoner somewhere out of sight, she couldn’t imagine they’d actually hurt him, let alone kill him.

  Because deep inside, in the parts she avoided, she wondered if Sylvester had been killed within moments of being abducted, and they were all searching for a ghost.

  But the spirit boy’s furious expression and the rage in his voice had spun her firmly held hope into dread.

  She didn’t want to meet Sylvester’s ghost. Not ever.

  “We have to move faster,” she said. “This isn’t a game to me. Sylvester is in danger. Do you understand that?” She flicked her gaze in Coles direction.

  “Yes.” He appeared sincere. “Showers, then my shop, and then Derek’s house. If we haven’t discovered any further information by tonight, you’re free to go home and try things a different way.”

  “But you’ll continue on your own.” Of course he would. A person like Cole Burkov would never stop fighting. She re-focused on the road.

  Cole lived in a well-cared-for HOA community near the beach, each unit painted a jaunty shade of sea foam or salmon or royal blue, each fronted with a square of beautifully manicured grass.

  She pulled into the driveway he indicated, and he hopped out. “I’ll wait in the car,” Talia offered, still shaky from coming face to face with a poltergeist.

  “Nope,” he said through the open car window. “We’re not leaving each other’s sides until the twenty-four hours are up.”

  “Oh, right.” She climbed out of the car. “I’m your hostage. I liked it better when you were my hostage.”

  “I’ll be your hostage,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning up, “as long as you do everything I say.”

  Rolling her eyes, she strolled through the front door ahead of him.

  The unit was small, clean, and sparse with hardly any personality. But there, partially hidden by the microwave, stood a set of Spider-Man and Venom salt and pepper shakers. She smiled at the thought of him shaking spice onto his dinner through the top of his favorite web slinger’s head.