Dorothy’s face drained of color when I called her an idiot. If I ever needed a visual for white-hot anger, this was it. Maybe I’d gone too far this time. Her eyes narrowed, and she said, “And you’re interfering with lives. We can do that, too. Remember that.”
Ximena waited until after the trio had left to come out of the kitchen. “What was that about fixing something? Did they need to talk to Kendall?”
I stepped out of her way so she could put the fresh-baked goodies on display. “Nothing to do with the shop. Just personal stuff.”
“It sounded pretty personal, for sure,” she agreed as she arranged the cookies on a plate. “Interfering with lives?”
“They're a little melodramatic.”
“It sounds like you're involved with something illegal and refused to give someone their cut.” She didn't look at me while she spoke. Perhaps she was afraid she'd get confirmation of her ideas. “I didn't think this neighborhood had any gangs or mob ties.”
“As far as I know, it doesn't.”
She would always doubt now, though — doubt me, doubt my word, doubt her safety. Best to give her a little space.
“I need to make some phone calls to see how soon I can get the painters in. Give me a yell if we get busy.”
She spun to face me. “I'd rather not work alone.” I must have looked confused because she went on, “It's not just whatever that was.” She flapped her hand toward the door to indicate the direction Dorothy, Carlos, and Lashonda had gone. “I don't want to be by myself. It feels like someone is watching me, just out of sight, ready to jump out at me, and I'm so on edge, I want to stab them when they do.” She laughed nervously. “No telling what I'd do when you came back out front.”
I wasn't worried that she'd stab me; all the sharp knives were in the back. At most, she could jab me with a spork.
Still, anything that eased tensions in this city right now was a good thing. “No problem. I'll just take my cell and go sit at that table over there. You can see me, I can see you, and we can both get work done.”
Ximena rubbed her hands on her legs nervously. “Right. Sorry.” She hesitated visibly. “I just wish I could get a do-over on this month, you know? The landlord the other day and the people on the T and Missy with the sink and … everything is going to hell. I shouldn't feel that way. I've got a good job and a wife who loves me, and I live in the hub of the universe.”
As she spoke, her voice choked up more and more. By the end, I could barely hear her.
I gripped her shoulder. “Even here at the hub, sometimes life sucks. There's nothing wrong with acknowledging that.” I cocked my head to one side. “Will you be all right for a minute while I grab the folder of info from Kendall’s desk?”
She sniffled, then nodded.
“Good. Why don't you make yourself a cup of something nice and soothing while I'm getting the paperwork?”
Not looking to see if she listened, I headed to Kendall’s office, hoping that the folder was still where she'd set it down when we were talking on Friday. I didn't have time to tackle her excuse for a filing system today.
So far, most of the animosity I'd seen had been personal, whether old grudges allowed to resurface or bruised feelings from being bumped into on the sidewalk. Not muggings, not robbery. Thank goodness for small favors, but I didn't want to trust to the pattern only to be proven wrong. I grabbed the folder, which had been shifted to the shelves behind Kendall’s desk, and returned to the front of the shop.
The scent of lavender and valerian told me that Ximena had taken my advice. I smiled encouragingly at her and made my way to a table next to the front window, the same table Haris had sat at the day we met. I wondered if the muse really would come by tomorrow, but I didn't waste my time in idle speculation. As I'd told Ximena, I did have work to do.
The ward spell pulsed slowly on the screen of my phone. It had activated itself once more, presumably creating a small field of quiet around me. Not enough to completely soothe Ximena, though, and I wondered how high-strung she would be without the presence of the ward.
Should I ward the shop as I had my home? The desire to be in an oasis of calm was tempting, but I decided against it. First, because the Lung dragon had specifically said to protect the children, and none of them were here. And second, because I wasn't sure how patrons powered spells — if I created too many wards, would it drain him?
I could do something on a smaller scale, though, using the wiring that already ran throughout the building. Circuitry created many overlapping and nested loops. Even if they weren't the formal symbols of any magic, they would work for my purpose. I’d have to use more of them than I had at home, though. All of the circuits, in fact.
Leaning against the spot where window met wall, I let my arm drop to touch the outlet on the wall. I breathed in and out deliberately three times, my own little ritual for attempting a new task, then I pulsed my magic into the wiring the same way I had with the espresso machine, feeling for the echoes of metal and power in the building. When I hit the electric meter, I was certain my magic had mapped the extent of the circuits.
One more deep breath, and this time the power trickled out of me, a silver-blue thread wrapping around all the wires, piggybacking on what was already there and tapping into that power to sustain itself in a magical Faraday cage. The snap when it was complete was not audible, but it might as well have been — Ximena jerked her head up, though she didn't focus on anything in particular.
Tension leached from my shoulders; it was done. Not so classic as the Lung dragon’s, nor as elegant as Maggie's was likely to be, but it was definitely a functional ward. And I'd done it without swearing revenge on anyone. My only regret was that I hadn't done it before the other witches came to visit — although they probably would have taken an oasis of sanity around me as more evidence of my complicity in the city’s problems.
Now all I had to do was stay in this spot for the next hour or two because I didn’t have enough energy to move. I hadn’t thought about how much power this was going to take; I should have grabbed coffee with extra cream and a danish before I sat down. How could I hope to fight something city-wide if clearing this small space wiped me out?
So much for my hope of dropping off Maggie’s dress at the dry cleaner’s on the way home. Tomorrow, then. Maybe I’d be able to get away for a few minutes during my lunch break.
Meanwhile, since all I was doing was sitting here, I texted Beth — “You never did say how your new art projects were going.”
She sent back an emoji with its tongue sticking out, followed by, “You know you don’t get to see the work in progress — be patient — pic of you and Haris will be worth the wait.”
I hadn’t thought she was actually going through with that. “Beth!”
All I got in response to that was a LOL sticker.
At least the exchange with Beth had lightened my mood and kept me from focusing on my other niggling fear, which I hadn’t yet voiced to myself — when I did the circle of salt last week, it lowered the emotional levels in the neighborhood, but they’d been climbing all weekend. I needed to check out the garage and see what had changed. I hoped there wasn’t another ghost, but I’d grab some salt from the kitchen just in case. I could always replace it later.
Chapter 14
On my way home, I looked for Hsien when I passed the Chinatown T stop to ask whether the wards directly drew on his power. I imagined they did, just as the Faraday cage had pulled from mine, but of course, he had more to begin with than I did. The advantage of being a magical creature of legend. Idly, I wondered how old he was, and whether he’d tell me if I were brazen enough to ask.
The Lung dragon wasn’t to be seen, however. He might be down below in this station or another, playing his violin. I’d asked him once why he busked, whether he needed the money. It didn’t seem an efficient way to get it, especially for one with his talent. With a gaze cool as mountain tops, he told me that music was meant to be shared.
In retrospect, it was no wonder he and Haris knew each other with that sort of attitude. At any rate, I’d have to ask him my question later.
The frisson that I’d felt the first time going past the parking garage was mild compared to the overwhelming current of slime that washed over me now while I was still a block away. Definitely stronger, and I did not want to go in to see why. I had to, though, so I forced my feet one step at a time across the street and into the almost empty garage. No worries today about passersby coming upon me doing odd things, which was enough to chill me from head to toe. This was Monday in Boston — the garage should be packed, with extra cars pretending the ends of rows were legal spaces. The ghost’s influence had grown significantly if she could keep Bostonians out of a parking garage.
Now, she glared at me from the same parking spot as before. Her hate was almost a physical blow. The ring of salt I’d placed around the parking spot was smudged and broken, with tire treads cutting through it. Someone must have parked there — and why wouldn’t they? The pressure to avoid the space had been cut off with the salt, and in Boston, there’s always somebody desperate for a space. It had probably been claimed within half an hour of me placing the salt.
I could repair the enclosing ring, although I was certain the ghost would attack me again if I did. What effects would a second touch from her have? That wasn’t the biggest worry, though. Repairing the ring would be no more effective long term than creating it in the first place had been.
If I had some sawhorses, I could block off the space to try to slow down the breaking of the ring. At best, though, that was just a delaying tactic. I needed to find the body to set the spirit to rest. That much folklore had to have a root in reality, I was sure.
What I wasn’t sure of was where to look. The killer had obviously not left the body in the spot where he’d killed the woman. If the body had been dropped into a dumpster, someone would have noticed. If they hadn’t, if the body was gone with no way to set the spirit at rest, I had no hope of stopping the ghost.
My gut, though, told me that the spirit would not be so strong if the body was far away. As if the decay of the body was what powered the growing aura of the ghost.
I wished once again that one of the witches who had experience had been willing to share, instead of insisting this was all my fault.
Perhaps the omnipresent cameras in the garage had recorded the killer disposing of the body? Better yet, the killer in the act of killing. I’d need to find the office to get a monitor that would display the CCTV footage. I glanced around for the nearest camera to find the identification number. Wires dangled loosely from the camera, not pulled free, but as if the installation had never been finished.
Frowning, I paced the ground level, examining every camera. Each and every one was in the same state. I’d have to check the garage near Maggie’s home when I returned her dress to her to see if I had better luck there. The killer probably had a pattern — at least, if TV shows were to be believed — so if I could find where one body was hidden, I could find the other. Or others.
Meanwhile, I’d look for the maintenance room to see if there were some sawhorses tucked away. If so, I could repair the salt ring and block the parking spot to keep it intact. Not a long-term solution, but even a delaying action would help.
I headed down the ramp to the long-term parking in the basement. There were more cars here, probably because these people had nowhere else to go. As I expected, the maintenance doors sat in the corner next to the elevator, and they had an electronic lock.
That was a stroke of luck — even in my low-magic state, I could pulse a lock. I touched the box and was rewarded a moment later by the satisfying click of the lock opening. Less satisfying was the putrid rottenness that crawled out of the cracked door. I had found the body, and the smell made me want to throw up.
Belatedly feeling an urge for caution, I pulled up the hem of my blouse and wrapped the cloth around my hand. Didn’t want to leave fingerprints behind, although as far as I knew, mine weren’t on file anywhere to compare them with. I pulled the door open a couple of inches, turning my head away as the smell hit even harder.
I stepped away to take a deep breath, then came back and used my toe to push the door the rest of the way open. Not one but two bodies lay on the floor — one with maintenance coveralls and a head with a bloody dent in the back — no doubt the missing maintenance man — and the other dressed like the ghost. Her skin looked slightly darker than mine, and her hair was black with red streaks.
Now that I’d found her, what should I do? I wasn’t about to move the body — I’d leave that for the police — and it wasn’t as if I could get any deep information from a magical scan, like whether she had any drugs in her system. I was a witch, not a forensic examiner. Still, I wanted to see what I could learn of the spell that had been used on her. If I could.
The cage I’d made for the coffee shop had been important. It made my coworkers feel safe and protected. It made a refuge of our work.
It also left me weak and tired and wondering whether coming here today had been a bad idea. I didn’t have the strength to do repeated bouts of large spells.
Strength or no, I stood here with the body in front of me, and I needed answers.
A featherlight touch, reaching out toward the body with a tendril of magic, thinking of it as electricity, arcing from me to the body. The tendril suddenly morphed into a streak of lightning directed at me as the traces of the original spell fed back at my touch. I sank to my knees, overwhelmed and gasping for air. What was this?
The faint briny scent became a flood, a plunge into the depths of icy dark ocean, unable to see, only to taste the salt and the water and the decay around me that fed … something. My mind tried to grapple with what it sensed — large, bigger than that, sinuous, chaotic, coils reaching, binding, crushing, robbing me of breath and life — and I lashed out in fear, a silver arc of electricity, severing the coils that would bind me.
Before, the coils had been impressions, sensed but not seen. When my magic cut into them, they flashed into visibility, flailing in pain. As they swung back and forth, smoke spooled from the severed ends, slowly vanishing into the air. The large presence I felt behind them retreated, stung but not defeated.
Freed of the pressure, I sagged to the floor, gasping for breath. That had not been human. The lingering touch of the killer’s patron? If this was what other witches felt, how did they cope? I had always thought myself strong, but now I wondered if perhaps I was the weakest of witches.
The air still smelled of decomposing corpses, but the briny overlay was gone. I wasn’t sure whether the ghost still lingered above, but if she did, I was certain her power was diminished, and soon she would fade to nothing.
I pushed myself to my feet. Before I did this again, I needed to recharge. I hoped dim sum and sleep would help. And I still needed to find out who was behind this.
Chapter 15
Sleep was a nice goal. It usually is for parents — both to get their kids to sleep and to get some sleep themselves. Sadly, children seldom want to cooperate with this goal, especially when the parents really, really, really need their sleep. Today was no exception.
Gavin planted himself firmly in the living room. “I don’t want to go to bed. I want Daddy.”
I did not tell him that his father was probably eating dinner right that moment. I did not point out that Matt couldn’t get here to put Gavin to bed in anything like a timely fashion. I did not even tell him that what he wanted did not matter.
I was very proud of myself for my restraint.
Instead, I sat down on the couch and patted the spots to either side of me, then waited for Tina and Gavin. Tina curled up on my right almost immediately, burrowing under my arm and leaning her drowsy head against me. Gavin glowered. He didn’t want me to cuddle just with his sister, but he also didn’t want to give in when he wanted Daddy instead of Mommy. Begrudgingly, he trudged over and sat down on my left side, though he didn’
t snuggle in the way Tina had.
Their magic sat deep inside them, yet-untapped pools — Tina’s, silver-bright tranquil and clear, while Gavin’s was as turbulent as my own. Normally, I would feel some resonance from them, but tonight it was as if heavy curtains separated us, leaving me aware that something was there but unable to discern what it was.
“You certainly are in a mood tonight.” I kept my tone light instead of accusative. It was hard — I was tired, weary in body and spirit and tapped out of the magic that usually sang as an undercurrent to my skin. I wanted nothing more than to lash out at anyone who balked me. Sometimes, I didn’t manage to keep it in check. Tonight, I did, but just barely.
“I am not!” Gavin stuck his lower lip out as far as he could and crossed his arms. It was all I could do not to laugh.
I leaned over and kissed him on top of his head, then dropped a kiss on Tina’s head as well. “Indeed you are. A wicked contrary mood, even.”
“Am not.”
That got a giggle from his sister, and he poked her with his elbow, hitting me in the process.
I hugged them both close. “It’s perfectly normal. When I was your age, I didn’t want to go to bed, either.” I stared off into the distance. “And my dad wasn’t so understanding.”
“See? Your dad put you to bed. I don’t see why mine can’t.”
I sighed. “You know how your grandmother travels for work, so we don’t get to see her all the time? When I was younger, she traveled a lot more. She had to prove that children didn’t make her the weak link at the company, so she did as much work as three men.”
“That doesn’t seem fair,” Tina said.
“No, it doesn’t. At the time, I didn’t even know why she did it. I thought she didn’t like spending time with me.” My voice dropped. “I thought she didn’t love me.”
“But Daddy does love us!” Gavin burst out. “It’s not the same at all.”
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