Spell of Vanishing

by Anna Abner

  “This is like Harvey’s spell?” she clarified.

  “Trust me. It’s more than a silence spell.”

  “I’m ready.” She smiled at the child, and he hit her with so much super-heated, electrical energy she grit her teeth to keep from screaming and scaring him. This was nothing like Hugh’s energy. This was pure lightning.

  “Hold on,” Cole said. He made a sharp left, bounced over the median, and swung into the opposite lanes. “One more second.” He gassed the car.

  Power built and built until her skin crawled, until her hair stiffened with static electricity. The child’s power was an electrical storm searing her from the inside out.

  As they were about to pass the cabal’s SUV from the opposite direction, Cole shouted, “Now, Talia.”

  “Confuto,” she screamed, discharging all that crackling power outward like laser beams from the palms of her hands. It was such a relief when the scary energy escaped, releasing her from the tension and pain.

  Breathless and shaken, she watched out the side window as the black SUV veered sharply right and rolled twice before settling upside down in a drainage ditch.

  “Put your seat belt back on.” Cole’s rough hands guided her into her seat. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She thought he looked a little green. “Are you?”

  “I guess that’s what a flashback is. I don’t know,” he admitted. “It was like I was back in the moments before they stopped my car’s engine and put me to sleep.”

  With a little more care this time, Cole pulled another U-turn across the median and drove back in their original direction. The overturned SUV’s front windshield was spray-painted in vibrant red. No way was the driver still alive. Harvey was definitely gone.

  But the passenger, the White Wraith, stood beside the vehicle completely untouched and unaffected by the accident. As the Honda passed the wreck, Talia’s gaze met hers and they stared eye-to-eye.

  They were never going to stop. Not the Dark Caster. Not the cabal. Certainly not the White Wraith. They’d hunt Talia to the ends of time to see her pay.

  “This is never going to be over, is it?” she asked sadly. “We can never go home.”

  “Not yet,” Cole agreed. “But there will come a day, and soon, when you’ll be safe.”

  Talia twisted in her seat and smiled at Zachary. “Thank you,” she said, tearing up a little as adrenalin faded to fear. “You saved us.”

  “I heard you call for help,” he said.

  “You sweet, darling boy,” she cooed. “I owe you.” Especially after the spirit she trusted most had abandoned her in her moment of need.

  “Cole?” She turned around. “Zachary did us a huge favor. I think we need to return it.”

  “I agree.”

  “I think we should take him home,” Talia said. “Do you know where Zachary’s mom lives?”

  “I have become the expert on all things Milton Couser,” Cole said. “Yes, I know where his mother lives. We can be there in forty-five minutes.”

  She caught the child’s eye. “What do you remember about your mom?” Talia asked.

  “She had brown hair,” the boy said. “Like mine. She sang me songs at bedtime.”

  “I’ll bet she loved you like crazy.” She smiled, instinctively reaching to pat his tiny arm, but she pulled back at the last second. He was made of shadow, spirit energy, and memory. She was lucky to see and hear him, but she could never physically comfort him.

  Though she hadn’t intended to make him sad, the boy bowed his head and his image disappeared.

  “Please come back,” she called. “Zachary, I want to talk to you.”

  “He’s still getting used to being dead,” Cole said. “He’s spent thirty-six years living in a kind of self-induced purgatory waiting to be rescued. He just needs time.”

  “I feel so bad for him,” she confessed. “That poor little soul is lost and scared and alone.”

  “He’s not alone anymore.”

  Zachary’s mother, Bev Dennis, lived in a manufactured home at the end of a long, desolate road outside of Warsaw, North Carolina. Cole pulled the car over to the side of the road in front of her house.

  Talia climbed out of the car, shook the blood back into her feet and legs, and watched the house from the hood of her Honda.

  An older lady with a long, brown-and-gray braid ambled onto her porch, a tabby cat draped over her shoulder. “Can I help you?”

  At the sound of her raised voice the cat wiggled free and streaked around the back of the house.

  “We made a wrong turn,” Cole said, hurrying forward. “Are we close to the I-40?”

  Talia sensed a presence beside her.

  “That’s not my mom,” Zachary said. “My mom is young. And pretty.”

  Talia smiled sadly. “It’s been a long time. She’s changed.”

  “How long?”

  “Thirty-six years.”

  Zachary seemed to consider the passage of time. “I’m forty-three?” he marveled.

  “You would be,” she said, “if you hadn’t died.”

  He sighed. “I wish I hadn’t died.”

  “Me, too.” Putting on a brave face, she added, “But in a way, I’m glad you did because it means I get to know you. If you hadn’t died, you and I never would’ve met.”

  She watched Cole unfold a paper map and quiz Bev about every possible route back to Auburn.

  “Why can’t she see me?” Zachary asked.

  “Only necromancers like me can see the spirits of the dead.”

  “She can’t see me or hear me or anything?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “But you can,” Zachary said, peering up at hewr. He had big brown eyes, she realized for the first time, and a sprinkling of freckles across his upturned nose.

  “Zachary, darling, you can cross into the light,” she said gently. “All you have to do is want to, and you can travel to the other side where you’ll find peace.”

  He seemed to consider the option as he observed his mother. Finally, he said, “I want to wait for her.”

  A twang of sympathy vibrated through the center of her chest. “That’s okay, too.”

  “But I need a mom,” he added.

  “You have one.” She tipped her head in Bev’s direction.

  “No, I mean a mom who can see me.”

  That was a problem. Out of nowhere, Sylvester’s face popped into her mind. Her sweet nephew had also needed a surrogate mom to love and care for him while his biological one was unable to do the job.

  “Will you be my mom?” he asked.

  Talia’s throat tightened. She glanced at Cole, and for a brief moment pictured them as an unconventional, but adoring family. Two necromancers and their adopted spirit child.

  Silly, impractical daydream.

  Smiling tremulously, she said, “I would love to be your mom.”

  “You’ll take care of me?”

  “Of course I will.” She swallowed thickly. “You don’t have to be afraid, or alone, anymore.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  When Talia pulled up to the Couser house, Daniela and David were waiting for them on the front porch.

  “Hi,” Dani said, giving Cole a quick hug.

  “Come on in,” Talia said as Cole held open the door. “Make yourself at home.”

  “Evening.” David smiled warmly at her. “How are you?”

  “Not so great,” Talia answered. “Thanks for asking.”

  “Wow,” David exclaimed, catching sight of her car. It was speckled with dust and dirt, clumps of grass wedged around the wheel wells and stuck in the drivers’ side door. “Your car looks like it’s been in a derby.”

  “Close.” But she was too tired to elaborate.

  David gestured for her to precede him through the door, and they all clustered around the breakfast bar in the kitchen.

  “I need the truth from you,” Dani said to Talia. “Before we go any further.”

  Feeling
a twinge of anxiety, she nodded. “Of course.”

  “Do you work for the Dark Caster?”

  Cole slid his arm around Talia’s waist. “Not anymore.”

  “But you did,” Dani pressed.

  “Yes, but not by choice.” At Dani’s furrowed brow, Talia added, “They abducted my eleven-year-old nephew and told me he’d die unless I cast magic for them.”

  “I hate that man,” Dani said, “and anyone who does his bidding.” She glanced at David, who gave her a loving little smile. “But it sounds like you’re a victim of his cabal, the same as we are.”

  “Exactly,” Cole asserted.

  “So,” Dani sighed. “On to business. I talked to Willow.” She shared a look with Cole.

  “Did you talk about the wraith?” Cole guessed.

  “Apparently, she’s not the average caster.” Dani gestured for them to relax around the bar.

  “Wait,” Talia said. “Who’s Willow?”

  “A member of our coven,” Cole said. “And a witch.”

  Great. More witches.

  “The White Wraith is one of the few witches,” Dani continued, “who can channel spirit power like a necromancer.”

  “What do you mean?” Talia asked, plopping into a seat at the bar. She hadn’t been around many witches in her life, but that sounded bad.

  “My abilities come from within,” Dani explained. “I don’t see spirits or communicate with them at all, but this witch is different. She sees ghosts, and she can consume their power to fuel her own.”

  “It makes her stronger,” David supplied. “Even stronger than Dani.”

  “And I’ve gone way beyond what I thought was possible,” Dani said.

  “I’ve noticed,” Cole said, sending Dani a concerned look.

  “So,” Dani said, ignoring him, “if she’s stronger than I am, that scares me.”

  “What did Willow suggest?” David prompted.

  “While in the wraith’s presence, keep the spirit friends to a minimum,” Dani said. “She’ll use them to boost her spells. Remember she can tap them without their permission.”

  And there was only so much power to go around. Spirits flagged, grew weak, gave up. They required time to replenish. None of which worked in the group’s favor.

  “Fewer sprits means less power for everyone,” Cole said.

  “So we have to make our spells count. And Cole?” Dani produced her phone and turned it on. “Willow said something else.” She scrolled through a notes app. “And you know when Willow says something it’s usually important. I wrote it down, word for word.” She swallowed, and then read, “Let him loose. He wants to help.” Dani looked up from her screen. “Do you know what she means?”

  Cole glanced at Talia for approval, and she nodded once. “There’s something I haven’t shared with you. With anyone, really,” he added. “When I was twenty I had a heart transplant.”

  Dani covered her mouth with one hand.

  Cole continued hesitantly, “The donor heart came from a…”

  He paused so long it was as if all the air in the room went stale. Talia couldn’t take the awful suspense anymore.

  “A serial killing psychopathic necromancer,” she finished.

  “You’re joking,” David said, as if he didn’t quite believe them. “How is that possible?”

  “It doesn’t matter how,” Cole said. “It’s a combination of fate and coincidence I have to live with. The point is, his power—his blood—runs through my veins.”

  “Oh, my God.” Dani sank onto David’s knee. “I had no idea.”

  “I didn’t want you, or anyone else, treating me like some kind of invalid,” Cole said.

  Dani tilted her head to the side. “Dude. Come on. You’re my friend,” she added. “I don’t care whose heart is in your chest, as long as you have one. And I’d never, in a million years, think of you as weak. You’re one of the toughest people I know.”

  “Ditto,” David said. “Dani has told me a lot about you, and I’m grateful you’ve been such a good friend and mentor to her.”

  Cole shifted from foot to foot. “Anyway. It sounds like Willow wants me to embrace the killer inside.”

  “Maybe just embrace his power,” Talia amended, uncomfortable with the word killer. “Maybe accepting him as a part of yourself will let loose beneficial energy.”

  “I don’t know how to do that,” Cole admitted. “For ten years, I’ve been trying to minimize his influence into the smallest grain of sand. I don’t know how to release him.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” Talia assured, placing a supportive hand on his forearm. He reached for her, but as he did, an edge of bandage showed.

  Dani yanked up his shirt, revealing lots of gauze. “What did you do to yourself?” she demanded. “Do you need a healing spell?”

  “No.” Cole chuckled, swatting her away and then removing his shirt and each of the four bandages he could reach. Talia helped him with the two on his back. “I turned my body into a spell circle.”

  Dani looked torn between fear and revulsion. “Holden gave you the idea.” It wasn’t a question.

  “We didn’t talk about it, or anything,” Cole said, inspecting the puffy flesh on his upper arm. “But yeah. It worked well enough for him. And I need all the advantages I can get.”

  “That’s true,” Dani conceded. “I just wish you hadn’t scarred yourself to do it.”

  “I like them,” Cole said, flexing his pecs and making the two glyphs on his chest wiggle. “They make me feel safe.”

  “You shouldn’t be forced to hurt yourself to feel safe,” Dani said. She glanced at David. “Regardless, we have to go. I found a decent occult shop in Charlotte, and we’re driving out there today.”

  “I know which one you mean,” Cole said. “Make sure you ask for their blessed aconite. It’s a powerful protective charm.”

  “Will do.” Hand in hand, Dani and David strolled toward the front door. “Be safe,” Dani added. “Wait until we get back to have anymore showdowns, okay?”

  Smirking, Cole said, “I’ll do my best.”

  They said their good-byes, and then Cole spent a great deal of time engaging the locks.

  Talia stared at his fresh tattoos, pink and swollen. “You’re going to need clean bandages,” she said.

  But he stalled her before she could go after the first aid kit. “We don’t have days to wait for them to heal. Can you do a spell for me?”

  “A healing spell?” she guessed.

  “In Couser’s spell circle.”

  She hesitated. Milton Couser had been a psychopath and a practitioner of black magic. She should avoid anything to do with him.

  But there weren’t many options. With the wraith on their tails, it wasn’t safe casting magic in the yard anymore.

  “Okay.”

  Cole hurried upstairs, but Talia took a few minutes to center herself and to focus on the positive attributes magic had always represented for her. By the time she entered Couser’s bedroom, Cole was already in the circle, the closet door wide open.

  “It’ll only take a few minutes,” he swore, extending a hand.

  With a final glance at Hugh, who stood at the ready on the balcony, she stepped into the dark, enclosed space.

  She didn’t waste time. The moment she felt Hugh’s power in her fingertips, she cast.

  “Medeor,” she said, clinging to Cole.

  His raw and untamed power mixed with hers, and she rocked on her heels. She’d never get used to the overpowering sensations of their energies converging. It was like downing a shot before leaping into a wind tunnel.

  “Do your tattoos feel different?” she asked.

  “They burn.”

  “A lot?”

  He grit his teeth and nodded.

  For once, the spell worked quickly and exactly as it should. Cole’s tattoos scabbed over as the swelling reduced. Within minutes, the dead outer layer of skin fell away like dust, revealing crisp, ebony glyphs etched into his flesh.
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  She caught sight of the row of scars on his left arm. “Let me heal these for you, too.”

  “No.” He made a fist, and the scars blanched white. “I want them. They remind me of the cost of working magic. Besides,” he said, his eyes darkening to a smoky green, “scars have never bothered me.”

  She witnessed a change in him as the magic faded, a shifting of desires. In response, a heat uncoiled low in her belly.

  “Cole,” she breathed, knowing—hoping—he was feeling what she was feeling.

  He slammed her against the closet wall and kissed her, feasting upon her mouth as if she was the most delicious peach he’d ever tasted.

  Panting, he pulled away a fraction of an inch. “I’m falling in love with you, Talia.” Not giving her a chance to respond, he kissed her again, a deep, desperate kiss that left her trembling.

  “Cole.” It wasn’t fair. If he knew the crimes she’d committed he wouldn’t have anything to do with her. She twisted her face to the right in a vain attempt to tell him so.

  He didn’t give her a chance, but pulled her down to the floor, guiding her onto his hips. “Let me love you.” His big, rough hands framed her face, pinning her in place. “I want to love you.”

  “You don’t know what I’ve done,” she stuttered, trying to form a coherent sentence while besieged by the sensations of their spell and the press of his erection between her legs. “You wouldn’t—”

  He kissed her, silencing her pathetic confession, and she let him because she was just as much of an addict as her sister. Though it wasn’t whiskey or heroin she needed. Talia craved Cole’s love and affection so much she was terrified to lose them. There was no doubt when he knew the truth, he’d never speak to her again. The love in his green eyes would crystallize into hatred.

  She wasn’t ready to lose him yet.

  * * *

  Rebecca Powell stepped out of her silver Lexus early Wednesday morning and her stilettos immediately sank into dark, sandy earth. She glanced up at the Couser house, steeled herself to the inevitability of entering it, and started for the front porch.

  Talia opened the door before she knocked. “Well, this is a surprise,” Talia said. “Did you leave something here the other night?”