♦
We were working against a deadline.
The negative power of the first night of the waxing moon on Friday night was critical to the success of Mark’s spell. By Thursday night, Mark, Orion, Daisy, and I were practically vibrating, hyped up on the power of the full moon and anticipation of the battle coming tomorrow. None of us was willing to admit how much of that was fear.
We’d had only two appointments at the alley shop on Thursday, and they were both early in the evening. Lissa helped the first customer, a woman from Brazil who was picking up a pair of mittens knitted from sheared beaver fur by an Inuit woman in the last century. The cultural disconnect intrigued me, so I peeked at the pawn declaration to see what powers the mittens might have, but the space on the form was blank. I’d have to remember to get on Lissa about that.
My other appointment was Charlie, just checking in to see how I was doing with the baboon tooth. Just fine, thanks, I told him, but no buyers yet. He was disappointed. I offered to return the item to him so he could arrange his own private sale, and I was amused at how fast he declined my offer and scurried out of the shop.
Just as I settled at my desk with a fresh cup of coffee, I felt a thud under my feet, followed a beat later by a tremor — never a good sign.
Barry suddenly popped up into the Eames chair in front of my desk. There was a smudge of blue and red dust across his cheeks, forehead, and the bridge of his nose, outlining the shape of where his safety goggles had once sat. The tips of his boots were singed, and I thought his hair might be smoking just a little bit.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled as he passed me on the way to the coffee pot.
One day, and counting.
♦
Mark and Daisy had been meeting for lunch at the vegetarian place every day. He indulged her addiction to avocados, and she advised him on the nuances of the magic he was crafting. Mark was grateful for her help and experience, but Daisy was frustrated that he wouldn’t let her get anywhere near the vault. I was okay with that; I didn’t want him blowing up my favorite aunt.
I joined them on the last day: the trap was to be sprung that night. They were so deep in conversation that they didn’t even notice me until I sat down on the other side of Daisy.
She was reassuring him. “You’ve been over every piece of this a dozen times,” Daisy was saying to him in a soft voice. “You’ve done all you can do.” She gave him a gentle smile.
Mark still looked worried, but he gave her a peck on the cheek, and he lumbered off in the direction of the alley shop.
“I hate to bring this up now, sweetie, with everything else that’s going on,” Daisy said when Mark had gone, “but I had another little note from Aaron.” She sounded apologetic but insistent. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
My first instinct was to hex Aaron into the bottom of the Marianas Trench. I’d always been a good little witch, but the idea was tempting.
Before I could shake it away, Daisy saw it in my eyes. She grinned. “Newton’s third law,” was all she said.
Oh, fine. But she was right; I certainly didn’t need any negative karma floating around right now. I had to clear my mind for the coming battle, and I couldn’t divert any more energy to my crazy family. I called Aaron’s lawyer and asked to have his papers sent over.
The paralegal was professionally polite, and a few hours later a thick sheaf of legal documents was delivered by courier to Bronwyn in the front shop. The paralegal could have dropped it off herself on the way to lunch — their office is only a few blocks away, after all — but that messenger probably cost Aaron a hundred dollars. The legal profession warms my heart.
I read through Aaron’s agreement and made myself a copy. My only concern was that Aaron and the rest of the clan would have no claim to my operation in Arizona. He had anticipated my reservations and included a clause that gave me a license to use the name Pentacle Pawn in Arizona only, retaining it for his own company elsewhere worldwide. Fine with me. I signed every place it was tabbed.
I meant what I said to Daisy: I’m done with Aaron and the rest of my family. Maybe someday my mother might be speaking to me again. Or not. I just couldn’t expend any more energy thinking about it.
But just in case, I decided a little ritual was in order. I keep a small apothecary in the storeroom in the back, and I fetched a bundle of dried white sage. I plucked off a single perfect leaf and dropped it into the package, mumbling the appropriate protection incantation to cleanse it and remove it from my control. I was hoping the paralegal wouldn’t notice the leaf at the bottom of the envelope. If she did and removed it, at least the paperwork would smell lovely. But if she missed it, and that leaf made it to Aaron, he’d absolutely get the message.
The paralegal had promised to send a courier once the paperwork was signed, so I gave her a call. She seemed surprised that I’d finished so quickly. I left the envelope with Bronwyn to be picked up. I had carried the bundle of white sage in my pocket, and as I walked back down the alley, I fired it up. I let the sweet smoke drift into the alley, all the way back to the door of my shop, mumbling a protection spell as I went. If anybody noticed me, they must’ve thought I was smoking pot out there.
The law is one thing, but dealing with my family is quite another. It never hurts to cross all the Ts.
As soon as that envelope was out of my hands, I felt better. My mind and my desk were clear. It was time to prepare.
Chapter Twelve
Mark was still trying to understand the nuances of how the blue amber influenced the protection spell, and he was running out of time. Barry literally stumbled into the solution.
One of Barry’s tasks was to design physical restraints for our trap. I hoped it wouldn’t come to that, because if we needed the physical restraints it meant that Mark’s magic hadn’t worked, but Barry was my fall-back plan.
Barry was prowling around the perimeter of the vault, looking for places to secure ropes and chains, while Mark studied the amber on the small writing desk in the horseshoe of the cages. Barry came around the corner just as Mark finished reciting a short experimental incantation. Suddenly, Barry was airborne. He flew backward and slammed against the far wall.
Anybody else would have taken that as a sign to be cautious. My boys, on the other hand, were delighted. They immediately repeated the experiment, this time with Mark closely watching Barry as he turned the corner. They used a piece of chalk to mark the floor at the exact spot where Barry took flight. Then they did it again, and again. In a few minutes, they had marked a perimeter around the small desk. They had also managed to create a small impact crater exactly Barry’s shape in the far wall.
We need to try it with someone more powerful,” Mark explained to me when they came upstairs, dusty and delighted. “I think the amber is turning the witch’s power back on him or herself. Barry is kind of a wimp” — he brushed off Barry’s rattlesnake glare — “no, I mean magically — so we need to try it with somebody closer to Penelope’s skills.”
He looked pointedly at me. I heard Lissa snicker behind her hand.
“I have a better idea,” I said to Mark. “Why don’t I read the spell, and you mark the perimeter?”
Barry liked the idea of watching Mark get slammed against the wall just fine, but Mark declined. “What about the pretty boy?”
Mark was right: Orion’s skills were nearly equal to mine, and he was still waiting to learn his role in the coming battle. Apparently, his contribution would be as a crash test dummy. Mark and Barry were inordinately pleased with themselves.
♦
Orion showed up for his task dressed in a bulletproof vest over full motorcycle leathers. His crash helmet was festooned with a wraparound decal of silver wings.
Barry, Mark, and Orion popped down to the vault. I tried to ignore the violent shockwaves coming from beneath my feet.
An hour later, all three emerged. Barry and Mark were jubilant. Orion looked a little the worse for
wear: one strap of his bulletproof vest had been torn away, and one leg of his leathers was ripped open from knee to hip. The angel wing on that same side of his helmet had been scoured away, in what looked suspiciously like road rash. All three of them were grinning.
We were ready.
♦
Lissa was anxious about crossing her mother, and she was right to be worried. The girl was very new to magic and had been sheltered both in her personal life and in her craft. There was no way she could confront Penelope directly.
But there was another way she could contribute. Penelope had been using Lissa as a mole into my shop, and now we turned that against her.
“Does your mother know that we’ve found the blue amber?”
Lissa shook her head. “I’m done with all that. I told her I won’t spy for her anymore. She was really mad, but I said...”
“Tell her.” Lissa looked confused.
“Tell her I found it. Tell her exactly where it is. And then make sure she has the vault incantation.”
“Are you sure?”
“We’ll be closed tonight for inventory. Tell her you’ll leave the door unlocked for her. I’ll change the door key tomorrow so that none of the customers stumble in on this accidentally.”
“Stumble in on what?” Lissa asked quietly, but from the look on her face, she already knew.
“We’re going to end this, once and for all.”
#
I reached the shop an hour early the next day and stuck a Closed for Inventory sign on the door. I hoped Lissa’d had the strength to do what I had asked her.
Daisy and I had met for a late lunch, and the talk had turned to ethics. Did we have the right to take this into our own hands? Did we have the right not to?
I was sure that it was Penelope who had killed Deborah and Michael. It was easy for me to picture her standing in the shadows outside Deborah’s door. Why did she kill Michael? Was he trying to stop her or help her? Did he get cold feet? Maybe he thought he could walk away and go on with his life. That very bad idea got him killed.
Daisy took my hand, and when she moved her hand away, I found her tortoiseshell comb resting against my palm. “We protect those we love,” she said.
“I can’t take this,” I said in a quiet voice. “Anyway, you know I can’t work the magic. It’s yours.”
“It’s yours for the day. I know I promised to stay away until this is over, but I want you to know that I am always with you. It’s not for magic — it’s for love.”
Big girls don’t cry, right?
♦
All I could do now was wait.
I had ordered Lissa to stay off the property for her own safety, and I was not happy when she walked through the door at exactly the time she usually reported for work. “I thought I could help,” was her lame excuse. Her eyes told me that she was there to try to put things right.
I didn’t have time to chew her out, but I knew that I had to get her out of the line of fire. I had no idea what Penelope might do once she realized she’d been duped.
Frank came out from under the counter and draped himself across Lissa’s ankles, begging to be petted. He was besotted with Lissa, but it wasn’t an excellent time for him to suddenly decide to behave like a house cat. I realized that he wanted to protect her.
I handed Lissa the keys to the street-front shop. “Go down into the basement over there and stay put,” I said. “Take Frank with you.” I was hoping that the solid brick wall that divided that basement from our vault would be enough to keep them both safe.
Frank’s head snapped around, and he looked at me with alarm. “My place is here with you,” he hissed.
“Your place is where I tell you to be,” I said. “You are my witness.”
Frank understood. If this thing went sideways, he would be the only one left to tell the tale. He didn’t struggle as Lissa picked him up and went out the door. I was hoping that they had enough sense to keep their heads down until it was all over.
♦
Hannah arrived just before midnight. As soon as she was inside, I changed the door key to the phrase that Lissa had given to Penelope. I set Hannah in the Eames chair and send her down to the vault, and I followed her.
Mark, Barry, and Orion were waiting for us. They had extended the chalk line into a full circle with the writing table at its center. I noticed that the Eames chair was just outside the line.
“If this works the way it’s supposed to, we can stop Penelope as soon as she comes downstairs. She won’t be able to cross the line without being repelled by the amber.”
It looked pretty flimsy to me. “And you’re sure this is going to work?”
The look on Mark’s face told me he was sure of no such thing. I glanced at Barry. He was standing outside the line on the other side of the room — chains ready, just in case.
Mark had positioned himself off to the side where he had a clear line of sight to the Eames chair — and a massive pillar to step behind, just in case. I realized that “just in case” factored in our calculations a lot more than I was comfortable with, but it was too late. We were committed.
Hannah took her place at the writing desk with her mother’s spellbook open in front of her. We heard footsteps on the shop floor above us. I stood behind Hannah and held the amber in my cupped hands as she started to chant.
We expected to see Penelope, but it was Simon who popped into the Eames chair. She'd sent him down ahead of her to trigger any trip wires we had set.
He scrambled for the table where Hannah and I sat. He managed to grasp one corner of the empty box, but it slipped out of his hand and skittered across the floor. Simon lunged for it.
His mistake. He was wide open, out in the middle of the floor, on his hands and knees — fully exposed, falling backward and not paying attention to his surroundings. Mark told me later that Simon was right on top of one of the chalk lines that marked the perimeter of the spell’s power when Penelope popped into the Eames chair.
Penelope saw Simon before he saw her.
I can’t exactly explain what happened next; I can only tell you what I saw. Mark raised his staff in both hands, above his head. Penelope’s aura had gone green, but not the rich color that marked a healer. It was as dark as the bottom of the sea. She raised her hands, as well, palms to the sky.
There was a massive flash of blue and orange light, so intense that it was more physical than visual. Lightning leaves a taste and odor in the air, so it wasn’t that. The only thing I’ve ever seen that comes close are those horrifying old films of nuclear tests on Pacific atolls. Picture that moment when the film bleaches entirely white for a beat, just before the mushroom cloud boils up.
I don’t believe that I lost consciousness, but the next thing I understood was that Simon was dead. He was flat on his back, his eyes open wide. There was no mark on him, but the look of horror frozen on his face told me that his had not been a peaceful death.
I quickly scanned the tiny room. Penelope was gone.
The others were starting to rise from the floor, shaking themselves off and trying to get oriented. Mark and Barry were doing their macho thing, dusting off their clothing and acting like it was no big deal. I was aware of Daisy, sitting quietly in the back corner, taking in every word.
It took me a second to realize what was different. The room seemed bigger — and it was. Penelope had blasted a hole right through to the basement of the street-front shop.
Lissa’s head popped up at the ragged edge of the hole. Her eyes were wide. Frank was beside her, his back arched and his ears flat against his head. His eyes were huge.
Hannah was crumpled in the corner, too shocked even to cry. She’d get there eventually, I knew. Simon was her enemy, but he was also her big brother. She was going to need some time to process this, and we would be there for her.
Lissa stepped through the hole in the wall and slumped down on the floor inside our vault. Orion sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. She
leaned into him and started to sob. She was going to be useless for a while. Frank climbed into her lap and closed his eyes, purring softly to give her comfort.
Mark made eye contact with Barry, and a silent pact passed between them. Mark nodded at the Eames chair. Daisy and I cradled Hannah between us and helped her upstairs.
When everyone else had gone, Mark and Barry would deal with Simon one last time. His body would never be found.
Chapter Thirteen
Orion tried to track Penelope, but he found no trace of her. At first, we thought she might have been vaporized in the blast that killed Simon, but when Lissa went home later that evening, she discovered that her mother had been there before her. Penelope had taken a kitchen knife and shredded every item of clothing in Lissa’s closet and poured vinegar in all her shoes. The message was as clear as if she had left a note.
Lissa was terrified. She called Daisy and arranged to stay with her until she could find a place of her own. She wanted no part of that house or anything else that belonged to Penelope.
♦
The next evening I took a little detour on my way to work. Penelope’s mansion was locked up tight. The drapes were drawn and there was no light showing at the corners of the windows. Padlocks had been added to the already-locked security gates.
Every community has that one house that the neighbors shun. The kids tell stories about it at slumber parties, a flashlight throwing spooky shadows under their chins, and the teenagers cross the street to avoid walking past it. This is how haunted house legends are born.
♦
When I finally got home, John was frantic. I gasped out the story in small bursts of words, trying not to sob.
I needed to be held and he needed to hold me, but we still hadn’t figured out the physics. John could wear earbuds and sleep under blankets, but my hands still passed right through him. We drifted to the bed, both of us miserable.
I climbed in under the old quilt and curled up in a ball. I expected John to sit on the edge of the bed and talk to me; at least I would have the comfort of his voice. But then I felt the blankets lift on his side of the bed, and he climbed in beside me. The quilt was tucked in between us, and I finally felt the presence of his body as he spooned around me, murmuring consolation in my ear.
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