Ghost Garages_A Boston Technowitch Novel

by Erin M. Hartshorn

  I looked at her carefully. “How much have you used it?”

  She shrugged. “I just know it’s there.”

  I wasn’t sure I believed her, and I’d have to press her more later. Not now, though. “Go get cleaned up.”

  I headed to the kitchen, my thoughts buzzing between worry about Beth, a mix of joy and uncertainty about the twins having access to their magic, and outright panic at what Matt was going to have to say about all of this. But first, dinner. Everything was easier with food and rest. I wasn’t going to get any rest just yet, but the food, I could have.

  Matt was even more annoyed than I expected when he came back. “I can’t believe I agreed to this. I have to get up and go to work in the morning, you know, not spend the night here while you dash around the metropolitan area trying to figure out where your BFF has gotten to.”

  I refrained from pointing out that I had to be up earlier than he did. I refrained from pointing out that we could go downstairs and ask one of his parents to keep an eye on the twins, but that they would never let him forget they’d done it. I even refrained from pointing out that the reason he was doing this was because Beth’s life was in danger.

  Instead, I said, “The kids have already had their baths and are in bed. I’ll be back as soon as I know Beth’s safe.”

  Okay, so I didn’t entirely refrain from pointing that last bit out.

  “Do you even know where to start?”

  “Had she been home?”

  He shrugged. “It didn’t look like it — no bags dumped on the floor to unpack, no pile of laundry near the washing machine. The only thing I saw out of place were some papers on the table.”

  Probably sketches in progress, if I knew Beth. More importantly, Clay had lied to me about taking her home. Maybe that meant they were still holed up at the bed and breakfast out on the Cape, and she forgot I’d be worried about her.

  “It’s probably going to be at least a couple of hours, then. Maybe more. I’m heading out to the Cape.”

  Maybe as I drove, I’d remember more of her gushing, whether she’d mentioned the name of the place they were staying, anything that might help narrow the search. When I was close enough, my magic pulses would be able to find her, I was sure. But first, I needed to narrow it down.

  Matt knew it, too. “You’ll probably want this, then.” He pulled a folded pamphlet out of his back pocket. “It was among the papers on the table.”

  I took it from him — a glossy trifold with the usual pictures of the view and the charming patio where one could eat lunch, although dinner would have to be elsewhere. It looked just the sort of cheesy place Beth would have flipped for and Clay would have sprung for, although he’d also likely tell her about all the things their architects had gotten wrong. Cape View Cottages — I’d never heard of it before. Probably either new or small, especially as most cottages tended to be farther out the Cape.

  “And you couldn’t have mentioned this before?”

  His shrug was unrepentant. “I wanted to know whether you had a clue what you were doing, or if you were just going to run around like a chicken with its head cut off.”

  The latter, but I wasn’t going to say so. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “I gave it to you, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be back.”

  I made sure I had my new phone along with the keys to the car and Beth’s apartment. I felt a twinge of nervousness about carrying around the ghost with me, but either the circle worked to bind or it didn’t — and if it didn’t, I wanted it as far away from the kids as possible. Besides, I needed all the keys, both because I needed to drive and because I might need to take her home before I got to come home myself.

  I paused next to the door. There was no reason for both of us to end with long nights and short sleep. “If you need to crash, take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch when I get back.”

  “I … don’t know if that would be a good idea. Sleeping in your bed could be a hard habit to break.”

  “Matt—” I didn’t even know what I wanted to say to him.

  It didn’t matter. He shook his head and nodded toward the door.

  I left.

  It wasn't often I drove to the Cape. To be honest, although I'd probably shared driving duties once or twice in college, my main memories of going out were with my parents. Fortunately, GPS and mapping apps were my friends, or at least tools I had at my fingertips. Okay, down to Mass Ave, across Southampton and down to run into Morrissey, which would drop me on 3. I hoped.

  After clipping the phone into the cradle so I could use it if necessary, I put the car into gear and headed down the street, wishing I was more sure of what I was doing, wishing I had someone riding shotgun, wishing this were as much of a wild goose chase as Matt thought it was. If wishes were fishes, we'd all have aquariums, as Aunt Rena always said. All I could do was work with what I had, which at the moment didn't even include a ward on my phone.

  “Call Maggie.” I pitched my voice toward my phone.

  She might not take my call — I hadn't called her to patch things up after leaving on Thursday. I could only hope that me and Haris taking out the ghost in her neighborhood had put her in a better mood, one where she didn't think I was planning to move against her.

  “Pepper? I was talking to Lashonda today. She said you were very helpful with Carlos.”

  Oh, good. We were on speaking terms.

  “I did what I could. I hate to ask, but I need a favor. Beth’s missing, and I'm afraid she's been taken by the witch — the killer. I’m following one lead, but it's going to take a while. If it doesn't work out …”

  “Do you have any evidence? Dorothy’s the best I know at location spells, but she's not going to want to help you.”

  No, she wouldn't. I considered and discarded yet again the notion that she could be the killer. But — “The only sort of evidence that's going to convince her is my best friend already being dead.”

  “That … seems likely. She is set in her ways.”

  Which was the polite version of “narrow-minded old biddy.”

  “Do what you can. Get Carlos to ask her if you have to. With luck, we won't need to do anything, and Dorothy will be even more pissed at me, but I'm not expecting a lot of luck.”

  “Take care of yourself.”

  I drove on in silence. I was still by myself in the car, but I had people who cared. As I headed off into the evening, looking for the witch who'd targeted me and was using my best friend to try to get to me, I took comfort in the thought that I was not alone. I’d feel better if I’d found anything useful in the notebooks I’d flipped through this afternoon, but nothing had stood out. A patron-witch bond was offer and acceptance, power given and received, a binding across the realms, whatever that meant in plain English. Mostly, it seemed to mean that the witch got power directly from the patron, and no one else could get in the way of it.

  Maggie had said once she wasn’t even sure death broke the bond, that it would depend on where the witch’s spirit went after death. Charming thought, but since the world wasn’t hip deep in dead witches still casting spells, I was going to assume that was still an option. I just didn’t want it to be my only option.

  Chapter 32

  An hour later, I'd reached the Cape. I’d forgotten how the view going over the Bourne Bridge took my breath away — and with twilight deepening to dusk and lights glowing on the land to mirror the early stars above, and the moon just starting to rise, the panorama was spectacular. I had plenty of time to enjoy it, too, with the solid line of traffic leaving the Cape that somehow managed to slow down those few of us headed out to it at this hour. I was lucky it took as little time as it did — close on another hour — to find the bed and breakfast, which was a series of individual pale-yellow cottages with rhododendrons and delphiniums screening them from each others’ view. At least it wouldn't take me as long to find my way back. I had to buzz for admittance, and the clerk wasn't happy about it.

>   He glowered at me, his bushy black mustache making the expression even more fierce. “We have a three-day minimum.”

  “I'm not looking for a room. Or rather, I am, but not for me. My friend sent me looking for her wallet, said she thought she left it in her room when she checked out.” I smiled sheepishly. “She couldn't drive out here herself to get it, obviously.”

  His expression might have fazed me a couple weeks ago, but after the ghosts and the touch of the patron, it bothered me less than Gavin’s pouting. This was pure posturing. “She couldn't come with you? I'm not turning someone else’s wallet over on your say so.”

  “Can we at least check to make sure it's there? Then she can at least stop worrying about where else she might have left it.” I tilted my head to one side and widened my eyes a little, even while thinking there was no way he was going to fall for this. What I really needed were Jedi mind tricks, but I didn't think Obi-Wan could help me. “Her name is Beth Fisher.”

  “Oh, her. Yeah, they checked out early yesterday, but my daughter said she'd wait and clean all the weekend rentals tomorrow morning.” He pulled a ring of keys from his belt, an old-fashioned touch that seemed right at home with the cottages. “Come on, we’ll look.”

  Part of me was annoyed that batting my eyelashes had been so effective. The rest of me was just glad I was one step closer to finding Beth.

  He led the way down a pebble path lined with white rocks and solar-powered lights, and I thought about what he'd said — Clay and Beth had left Saturday morning. But Clay had said he'd dropped Beth at her place this morning. Which meant either someone had messed with Clay’s mind — Ximena had been showing memory lapses under the ghost influence, so it was certainly possible — or he'd deliberately lied. Maybe they’d spent Saturday night somewhere else, and that was all he was lying about, but it was still a lie. Neither was an appealing prospect.

  For the time being, I'd assume he was just talking under the influence. I'd certainly seen enough of that recently. And I didn't want to think ill of a college friend, even one I'd never felt particularly close to.

  “Here we go, number twelve.” He turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. “Like I said, we haven't done any cleaning yet.”

  The cottage was as quaint inside as out — again, soft yellows and creams, with accents of peach and mint green, rather than the more nautical blue and white with gray that so many places affected. Even the wicker furniture was a creamy hue. With sunlight streaming through the gauzy curtains during the day, it was probably even more charming.

  A queen-sized bed sat against one wall, its muted floral blankets rumpled but pulled up into a semblance of order. There was no sign of anything left behind on the dresser or tables.

  “Are you certain she left it here?” Heavier doubt colored his voice.

  That was the problem with the lost wallet story: It was easily disproved. If I'd been able to come up with some other excuse to see the room, I would have.

  Sparkles of green danced past and dove under the bed. My helpful friend was back, giving me pointers once again.

  “Let me check the drawers and under the bed.”

  He still looked skeptical, but there was only so much damage I could do looking around, right?

  I got down on my hands and knees to look under the bed. A piece of paper caught my eye. Touching it made me feel slightly queasy, but I palmed it before turning to open the drawer beside me. A solid object slid inside, and I stuck my hand in to grab it.

  “That doesn't sound like a wallet.”

  “It's a phone.” I hadn't even looked, but I knew a phone when I held one. I stood up and held it out to show him, glad that the crumpled paper was in my other hand.

  “Not a wallet.” He wasn't going to compromise on this.

  “No,” I agreed with him, “not a wallet. It's Beth’s phone, as you can see by hitting the home button.”

  Beth wasn't as attached to her phone as I was, but she was a normal American — meaning she didn't go anywhere without it. Usually, it was clipped to the inside of her purse. The broken clip dangled off the edge of my palm, but I didn't point it out. He would dismiss it, say it must have broken, and Beth put the phone in the drawer and forgot about it. It even sounded plausible.

  Only my certainty that something had happened to her made me reject the simple explanation.

  “You said you were looking for her wallet. It's not here. You'd better go and leave that behind. She can come collect it herself.”

  I gave it to him without resistance. Why not? If whoever Maggie found needed something of hers for a tracking spell, I had Beth’s key. I would swing by her apartment and grab one of the scarfs or cowls or other assorted accessories that she always looked so dashing in. But when this was all over, I was going to figure out a way to set up an alert the instant Beth got more than a quarter mile from her phone. And the alert would include GPS coordinates of the phone, so I’d spend less time searching. That wouldn't help now, but it would make me feel better. Better yet would be never needing to use it.

  Before I pulled out of the lot, I looked at the crumpled paper I’d picked up. Black smudges flickered on it, similar to the blue lights that had been on the ward the Lung dragon handed me, but the feeling of this was too similar to the dark coils that had struck at Haris and me in the parking garage for coincidence.

  All the women had been killed with magic, and I was the target — all of the women, except Beth, looked like me in some fashion, and one ghost had been deliberately loosed where it could possess my mother. I’d felt a muted magic vibe at the reunion dinner but couldn’t localize it. Now Beth had disappeared on an extended weekend with Clay, and a hex had been left — accidentally? — in the room they’d shared.

  Fear tightened my throat. Clay was the witch who had been killing women, and he had Beth.

  “Call Maggie.”

  I was on Route 3 again, heading north, and I needed someone to talk to.

  “Dorothy agreed.”

  An abrupt greeting, to be sure, but — “Just like that?”

  “I was surprised, too.”

  Surprised didn’t even begin to cover it. Dorothy had been agitating for the other witches to consider killing me because she thought I was responsible for the ghosts and negativity around Boston. She had come down to my work and threatened me. She didn’t care who my patron was because knowing I didn’t follow Hekate was all the evidence she needed of my wicked ways. And now all it took to change her mind was a call for help? I’d expected groveling at the very least.

  I grunted. “She’s got something unpleasant planned, doesn’t she?”

  “You know what she always says — ‘Old age and treachery will always beat youth and skill.’”

  “A classic Greek proverb.”

  Silence fell for a minute, and I glanced at my phone screen to make sure the call hadn’t been dropped. It hadn’t, but I also saw a couple of warning lights on the dashboard flick on. Just what I needed.

  “You didn’t find her, did you?” Maggie’s voice was quiet.

  “No.” My response was just as quiet. “I found her phone, and I found some sort of written hex that was left behind in the room she was staying in.”

  “Are you sure it’s a hex? It could just be a doodle. She’s always got pen and paper going.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know! But this isn’t her work, and yes, I’m sure it’s a hex. It makes my skin creep.” I’d put it as far from me in the car as I could, but I still had the feeling of being watched. “I’ll show you when I get there, but be careful looking at it.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Damn it, I’d offended her again.

  “If your Sight leaves you open to the magic that’s flowing through it, you could get hurt. I’m already worried about losing one friend tonight. I don’t even want to contemplate losing two.”

  I meant it; I remembered at a distance what it had felt like to have that patron try to invade my mind, striking, attacki
ng, coiling, crushing. If Maggie opened herself to it, she could face the same thing, and I had no idea how much power she could draw from Ouroboros to strengthen herself. Worse, what if rather than just being hurt, she was corrupted?

  She sniffed. “Give me some credit for knowing how to manage my own power, thank you very much.” But she sounded mollified. “You will bring it, won’t you? It may give us some hints about what we’re dealing with.”

  “That was the plan,” I said dryly. “Besides, I’m not sure what the best way is to get rid of it. Throwing it away won’t do. Would burning it work?”

  “Maybe?” I could see her elegant shrug in my mind’s eye. “Some spells are activated by burning — that’s why so many cultures have a tradition of burning either blessings or things that they want to get rid of. I wouldn’t try it, just in case.”

  About what I’d figured.

  After a moment of silence, Maggie said, “I couldn’t get everyone to agree to help, but Dorothy, Carlos, and Lashonda are coming. I’d like two more, but I think we have to take what we can get.”

  “Have your cats stand in for the extra two. We are meeting at your house, I assume?”

  “Dorothy didn’t want to, but I wasn’t about to let her pick the location. We need her, but I’m not giving her unchecked rein on this.”

  “Sounds good.” Sounded better than good, but Maggie knew how I felt about Dorothy. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m going to stop by Beth’s place first to grab something to use for the spell.”

  “Don’t you have her phone?”

  “No, oddly, the clerk of the bed and breakfast — he may have been the owner, since he said his daughter did the housekeeping — he didn’t trust me. He wasn’t even going to let me look at the room, and he certainly wasn’t going to let me walk out with anything that didn’t belong to me.”

  “Except that hex.”