Halfway Hexed

by Kimberly Frost

  “I smell it,” I said. Climbing out, I set Merc on the passenger seat. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I know how much bad stuff you’ve seen here. First the murder. Then the body when it was dinner for the bugs.” I wrinkled my nose, feeling slightly sick at the memory.

  Merc cocked his head thoughtfully, then hopped down.

  “Is he all right?” Bryn asked, coming around the car.

  “He’s fine. Like always. Me, I could’ve lived one or two lifetimes without coming back here and remembering the state of that body.”

  Bryn gave my arm a squeeze. “You can wait here, if you want.”

  “If I can wait here, why the heck did I have to come?” I grumbled, suddenly realizing that I could’ve drawn Bryn a map to the place. Bryn had known most of the route already. I wondered if claiming he needed me to navigate had just been an excuse to keep me with him.

  I followed him through the field. The cool breeze carried the smell of the river, which helped. When we came to the clearing, I stared at the empty space. There wasn’t a single piece of wood left upright. It appeared that Incendio had completely burned the barn down, leaving behind only a black rectangle of ash.

  “Nothing left,” I said.

  Bryn held out a hand, frowning. “You’re more right about that than you know.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You’re sure that Incendio used magic to burn this place down?”

  “Positive. I saw him start the fire.”

  “With this kind of destruction, there should be plenty of residual magic.” Bryn went down on one knee and picked up a handful of soot. “There’s barely any here. Definitely not enough to use to identify it as Incendio’s.”

  “So he covered it up?”

  “No,” Bryn said. “Grounding magic so completely, that’s complex spell-casting.”

  “Jordan?” I asked, referring to the wizard who’d been travelingwith Incendio.

  “Not in a million years.”

  “So who then?”

  Bryn blew out a slow breath and shook his head. “I don’t know the exact witch or wizard who cast the spell, but I certainly know who sent him.”

  I cocked my head. “Uh-oh.”

  “Yeah. The Conclave’s already here.”

  Chapter 7

  It was a sobering drive back to Bryn’s. He was convinced that the Conclave had snuck into town to tamper with the scenes of the magical crimes. I wanted to look on the bright side, so I tried to figure out what that was.

  “At least they were just covering their tracks, not trying to frame us.”

  “Covering their tracks does make the things we did harder to defend,” he pointed out.

  “Oh.” I definitely wasn’t happy to think that the Conclave was cheating on the investigation, but then again, we had the false fax, so we weren’t exactly being honest either. Since I didn’t think Bryn would appreciate me pointing that out, I said, “Darn spies. Just like them to be sneaky.”

  Bryn’s gate swung open, and he pulled onto the drive.

  “The house where the man with the scar took you, think back, was there anything around to suggest he was a wizard?”

  “You think Scarface was sent ahead? Just like Incendio and Jordan were in Texas before they showed up in Duvall?” I asked with a sinking feeling. Of course, Bryn was right. It was way too much of a coincidence that a serial killer or some regular criminal had grabbed me right before the wizard assassins came to town. “I didn’t see anything that made me think he was magical.” I bit my lip. “I sent the police to get him. They don’t have anyway to protect themselves against magic.”

  As soon as Bryn stopped the car, I jumped out and ran to my car. “I have to check on them and to sign my statement. I’m going to the police station,” I called to Bryn.

  “I’ll come with you,” he offered.

  “It’s better if you don’t.”

  He gave me a questioning look.

  “To those deputies, I’m still Zach’s girl. They don’t take kindly to me hooking up with you. Even if we are just friends.”

  “All the more reason for me to come with you,” Bryn said, but I waved him off.

  I drove over and left Mercutio in the car when I went in. I was glad to see that the place was mellow, not showing any signs that they’d had to battle a wizard into custody. Had they already gone to get him? If not, should I go along? Or even take Bryn with us? That would go over like liver and licorice, but it was better than letting the deputies get hurt.

  “Well, well,” Smitty said, coming out with a paper in his hand and licking powdered sugar from the corner of his mouth. He adjusted the gun belt around his belly.

  “Hey,” I said, picking up a pen. “So you went already? What did he say when you arrested him? He tell you his name?” I asked. And his hopefully nonwizard occupation.

  “There was no one in that house, and there was no sign that it had been used as a kidnapper’s lair.”

  My brows shot up. So the guy had gotten away? Did that make him a wizard? Had he used a spell to unlock those cuffs? Momma had that talent. When I was little she used to play games with me. I’d tie her up and she’d get herself loose. The Houdini game, she called it. I didn’t know how common it was to have that skill, but it sure would come in handy if someone was a spy.

  “And that truck you left here was reported stolen a week ago from two counties over. For all I know, you stole it yourself,” Smitty continued.

  My gaze snapped back to him, and I scowled. Of all the things to say! I’d never stolen anything in my life. Well, except for taking my family’s jewelry back from Jenna, which she didn’t have a right to in the first place. Besides, I’d sent her money anonymously to pay for it only a couple days after I burgled her, so could it really be considered stealing? Technically, kind of. But morally, I didn’t think so.

  “Now as to the other part of your story,” Smitty said, leaning forward. “Lucy, Sue, Mindy, and Jenna all say they were at a prayer meetin’ when you claim they were kidnapping you. Reverend Fuller says he saw them at the church.”

  “Maybe they were at church before they came to the bakery or maybe they went there after. It’s only a five-minute drive.”

  “Well, I’ve got the word of a reverend and four solid citizens against your cock-and-bull story, so here’s what I think of your statement,” he said, tearing the statement in half and then in half again. “You want to get Zach’s attention, you better call him up. ’Cause if you ever waste our time again with false claims, we’re throwing you in a cell. I got the sheriff’s permission and he says the magistrate will back us up.”

  I glared at him. “I didn’t make this stuff up. I’ve got better things to do with my time than to lie about getting kidnapped. And for your information, I don’t have to make up stories to get Zach’s attention. He calls me all the time. Now then,” I said, grabbing the scraps of paper from the round trash bin. I slid the tape dispenser toward me and taped the pieces together. I signed across the bottom. “This here is my statement, and I want it filed.”

  “Not a chance,” he said, yanking it from me and ripping it into about sixty-four pieces.

  “Isn’t that against the law? If a citizen wants to make a report, you’ve got to take it down and file it.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “Why don’t you get your new boyfriend to sue me?”

  I thumped my fist on his desk, but held back the string of curses that threatened to spill out. “As a general rule, I’m not vindictive, but I do believe I’m gonna make it a priority to see that you lose your badge.” With that, I got up and stalked out of the police station with plenty of dignity, but not an ounce of law enforcement support.

  I was so tired when I got to Zach’s house, I fell facedown into Zach’s bed fully clothed with unflossed teeth. I was dead asleep in seconds, so I wasn’t very happy when Mercutio used his claws to pull my hair and wake me up.

  “What time is it?” I mumbled, trying to focus m
y eyes on the clock. “Merc, it’s four a.m. I count that as still night. Remember how I sleep at night?”

  Then I heard a noise just beyond the bedroom door. I rolled quietly off the bed and reached under it to where I’d set the gun. I clicked off the safety and crept to the door. I’d left the living room light on for Merc, so there was a stretched triangle of light on the bedroom floor. I moved until I was standing just behind it.

  I peeked around the door and saw two women dressed from head to toe in burglar-black outfits, including ski masks, rifling through Zach’s drawers.

  “Jenna—”

  “Don’t use my name,” Jenna whispered fiercely.

  I frowned and flicked the safety back on, then tucked the gun into the back of my jeans. I tiptoed to the bedroom closet and got Zach’s spare handcuffs. Then I stepped out of the room, flicking on the hall light.

  “Hey, y’all,” I said.

  They both jumped and then yanked out crosses and held them out toward me.

  “Get back,” Lucy snapped, and they both started quoting scripture.

  Merc and I rushed them, him nipping and distracting them, while I handcuffed them to each other through a cupboard handle.

  “Okay,” I said, catching my breath. “Now, I’ll just call the police and we’ll see who’s making up stories about kidnapping plots.”

  Mercutio yowled and bounded to the front door, waiting for me to open it.

  “What, Merc? Is somebody else out there?” Had their accomplices Sue and Mindy come along? If so, I’d better tie them up or run them off. I didn’t want them sneaking in and conking me over the head.

  I hurried to the front door, rubbing my eyes. Why did they have to break in during the middle of the night? I padded outside, instantly anxious when I heard the crunch of leaves. I dropped to a crouch and waited.

  The noise had come from behind a row of hedges. My breath came and went in shallow sips. I crept along, trying to find an opening in the hedge that I could look through. Then I heard another crunch and looked up just in time to see Scarface behind the row of bushes. His right arm started to rise.

  No!

  I drew my gun and whipped it up even faster than he got his pointed at me.

  “Don’t move,” I snapped, but he did. He turned and bolted.

  I stood and chased his footfalls, not able to see him clearly enough to be sure that if I shot him that I’d only wound him. A car’s interior light clicked on when he opened the door, and I ran faster, but couldn’t reach him before he peeled away.

  “Coward!” I shouted in frustration. I walked back to Zach’s, nearly jumping out of my skin when Merc padded up.

  “Lost him,” I said. “That was Scarface, who kidnapped me today. Looks like he’s not giving up.”

  I marched into the house to confront the Reitgartens about whether they were connected to Scarface, but the kitchen was empty and the cupboard door was missing. They’d yanked it off the hinges. Darn them!

  Plus, when they’d escaped, they’d left the back door wide open for any Tom, Earl, or Scarface to waltz right in. I smacked my hand down on the counter top in annoyance, then walked over and slammed the door shut and locked it.

  “Well, Merc, we can’t stay here. First off, I don’t want Zach’s stuff getting messed with or his house getting damaged like mine was,” I said, stalking into the bedroom. “And secondly, if people are after us, what better place to stay than someplace with a big gate and twenty-four-hour security?” I asked, retrieving the package with the brooch from under the bed and then taking my pink-and-black-checked roller suitcase out of the closet.

  Merc purred, obviously agreeing with my plan to stay in the one place that, for so many reasons, I wasn’t supposed to stay.

  Chapter 8

  I didn’t want to wake up everyone at Bryn’s house before dawn on a Saturday, so I decided to run an errand to my house first. The front was still boarded up while the reconstruction was going on, so I used a key to let myself through the gate that led to the yard, then went through the sliding door. The house was unswept and smelled like sawdust, but I could see the progress. The Sheetrock in the front room had been completely replaced.

  I went upstairs to a locked trunk and took out my antique spellbook. Merc sat next to me on the rug while I read about the various things that could be used to stir up visions: looking glasses, tea leaves, horse apple seeds, flames, and smoke. I ran a hand through my hair and wondered which divination spells our family’s witches had used most successfully. When Momma and Aunt Mel left, they’d taken the family spellbooks with them.

  The thought of getting my hands on those books excited me. I hadn’t been free to read them when I was very young. Later, it’d made me too sad to read about magic when I’d thought I would never have any. When Aunt Mel came back with the books, it would be my first chance to study them as a witch. Assuming I could get my powers under control.

  Bryn and I had discovered the reason why my powers had been dormant was that my fae magic worked against my witch magic and vice versa. But my magical synergy with Bryn caused a disruption in the way the two magics neutralized each other. Now all we had to do was to come up with some brilliant plan to get them not to cancel each other out so much.

  “Should I try a spell here?” I asked Mercutio. “It’s only divination . . . a passive kind of spell. Nothing that’ll send magic spiraling out into the neighborhood to affect other people. At least, I don’t think it could.”

  Mercutio put his paw on the book, tapping it.

  I smiled. “Come on then.”

  Downstairs, I found a jar of tart apples in honey that I’d canned myself. I opened them and ate several, the sweet and tart fruit sliding down my throat.

  “Yum.”

  Merc licked my fingertips, but I don’t think he likes honey as much as I do. Well, probably hardly anyone does.

  I collected two pairs of candles, a box of matches, and the brooch. I took off my socks and shoes and went into the yard. I positioned the tallest candle at true north and then set the other three at east, west, and south. Mercutio sat next to me in the center of the candles, and I propped the brooch up against the north candle. I lit the wicks and then dug my toes and the fingertips of my left hand into the dirt.

  I stared at the dancing flames. My gaze fixed itself, unblinking, until I seemed to get sucked into the light. I saw my childhood self near the Corsic Creek Bridge with Zach. We were small. Only eight. It was our first kiss.

  And then a swirl of things. On my bike. On a tire swing. Bryn walking down the corridor of the fancy hotel in Dallas where I’d first talked to him. A smile curved my lips. I’d been in awe of him back then, had never dreamed we’d become friends. Never dreamed of a lot of things.

  Then I saw myself in a pale gold dress that I’d never worn, my hair upswept. My mouth went dry as I watched myself walk down an aisle, a creamy bouquet of flowers in my clasped hands. Someone waited. Waited for me to come and marry him? Who? My heart pounded and I felt slightly sick. I was afraid of seeing my own future.

  I stretched a trembling fingertip to the brooch and stared at the flame. The scene changed and the beautiful dark-haired woman was there. This time she faced me. She flung her hand, as though casting a spell. A rush of fragmented images, running, falling, cobbles. Blood! The flame shot unnaturally high, and I jerked, falling out of the vision trance as I knocked over the candle with my foot. Merc yowled. He smacked out the flame of the fallen candle as I tried to catch my breath.

  “It was all mixed up. I couldn’t tell what was happening.”

  I rubbed my arms and glanced at the house on the property behind ours where the local judge and his family lived. They’d spied on me before, and their lights were on now. I was pretty sure the lights hadn’t been on before I’d started the spell.

  “We need to go,” I said.

  With a still-pounding heart, I blew out the other candles and collected everything. Inside, I dropped the candles and matches on the kitchen counte
r and put the brooch carefully into its box. I wiped the dirt from my feet quickly with a damp paper towel and washed my hands.

  “Okay,” I said, grabbing the brooch box and the spellbook. “We’ll go to Bryn’s. We’ll be safe there, and maybe I can sneak a few books from his library that’ll give me more control over looking into the brooch.”

  On the drive to Bryn’s, I saw George’s mail van. I slowed down and waved to him out my window.

  “Morning,” he said.

  “George, I need to stop my mail. I’m not going to stay at Zach Sutton’s house after all. Can you hold my mail and then I’ll pick it up from you?”

  “Where will you be staying?”

  “I’m not entirely sure yet. I’m in a bit of spot. Would it be okay for me to get it directly from you?”

  “I always keep to my schedule.” He glanced at the clock on his dash. “I start my route by five a.m. on Saturdays, so people’s mail is waiting for them when they wake up. Otherwise, they go out and don’t open it until Saturday afternoon or night or—Sunday morning,” he said, pursing his lips as though Congress ought to really have passed a law to prevent mail-opening delays.

  “Well, that sure is sweet of you to make sure people get their mail early.”

  “But it’s not five yet, so I could give you your mail. Your new mail from England.”

  “From London?” I asked excitedly. “I’ll pull over.” I wheeled the car into a driveway and threw it into park.

  I met George next to the van. He took out a heavy-bond envelope and handed it to me.

  “George, you’re one in a million,” I said, giving him a quick hug.

  “Just doing my duty.” He swung the van door closed, checked to be sure it was secure, then went back to the driver’s seat. With a brief hand out the window in a makeshift wave, he drove away.

  I got in my car, setting the envelope on the dashboard. “A letter from Aunt Mel, Merc,” I exclaimed as I drove to Bryn’s. “Hopefully she’ll explain who the woman from the brooch vision is. Did you see the way she thrust her hand in the vision? A witch, I’d say.”