Halfway Hexed

by Kimberly Frost

  “Sorry,” I said, pressing a kiss on his jaw when I finished.

  “Thanks,” he said, seeming distracted. He glanced in the direction of the porch. “You know, Steve’s young and healthy, but he’s also human. Maybe that tranquilizer will affect him more than it affected you.”

  “He’s a pretty big guy, but maybe so.”

  Bryn walked to the phone and called nine-one-one. When he hung up, I said, “Don’t tell them I was here. Also, I need a few more clips for this gun.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to have a look around.”

  “A look around?” he echoed skeptically. “If you really are marked for death, you’ll have to go underground.”

  I wasn’t doing that, but I wasn’t in the mood to argue about it. “And what about you? If I went underground, you’d stay here alone?”

  “I could come with you,” he said thoughtfully.

  “You said if we started running, it would be hard to stop, hard to clear our names.”

  “Right, but it’ll be even harder to clear our names if we’re dead.”

  “As usual, you’ve got a point. I’m sure gonna think that over when I get a minute. In the meantime, can you give me some more bullets for this gun?”

  He folded his arms across his chest.

  “I can go without them, but I’ll be a lot more likely to end up dead,” I pointed out.

  Bryn scowled, but he went down the hall and opened a drawer in the bureau. He handed me several loaded clips.

  “My car?” I’d told Bryn where it was and that we needed to get it, but he’d said he’d take care of it.

  “It’s in the driveway. Steve and Pete picked it up from behind the motel.”

  I gave Bryn a quick thank-you kiss, then went to change into my clothes. Afterward, I whistled for Mercutio.

  We went out and sat in my darkened car at the end of the drive. When the ambulance was halfway to the house I started my car and we slipped off Bryn’s property.

  “It’s time to deal with Gwen,” I said. “She’s got my stuff. And she’s got something of Bryn’s. She’s like a darn kleptomaniac. A homicidal kleptomaniac. I’m going to get our stuff back. While I’m at it, I’ll get her to sign a confession that she attacked me.” I took a deep breath and blew it out. “Think that’ll work?”

  Merc licked his paw.

  “Yeah, I’ve got a few doubts, too, but we can’t just sit around while they try to kill us and steal our town. Right?”

  Merc meowed his agreement.

  “Right.” Of course, I’d known Mercutio would agree to fight back because if there’s fighting involved in a plan, he’s in favor of it.

  I drove to the motel and parked on the street where I’d parked earlier in the day. Mercutio and I crept to the back window. She’d feel me crossing her wards, so I needed to be sure I was ready. I’d need to get inside fast.

  Mercutio didn’t wait for me. He went through first, which I hoped would be a good diversion. I climbed in quickly, but slipped, landing hard. Luckily the gun’s safety was on or I’d have shot something. The carpet squelched under my feet as I stood.

  Uh-oh. Why is the carpet wet?

  The eerie silence seemed to close around me.

  Uh-oh.

  I grimaced, moving to the door, searching for the light switch as a voice in my head yelled that something was very wrong and that I should get out. My fingers didn’t listen though. I flipped the switch and in an instant, I regretted it.

  Gwen lay on the floor dead. I slapped a hand over my mouth. Sliced throat. Blood spray everywhere. I shuddered, frozen in place.

  Mercutio stood on the bed looking down at her. I looked at everything but her. The finches on the wallpaper were speckled with blood. Biblical passages had been spray-painted in black.

  I stared at the most prominent one. THOU SHALL NOT SUFFER A WITCH

  Oh my gosh. Had DeeDAW brought in more crazy, violent out-of-towners? Had they seen Gwen doing something suspicious? Confronted her? She could’ve tried to use magic to defend herself, and they killed her for it.

  I looked at the place where the locked file boxes had been. There were grooves on the carpet from the weight of them. I hated to think that DeeDAW had the WAM files, which were sure to be incriminating.

  I scanned the room and toed open the door to the closet. There were clothes hanging inside, including her coat. I checked the pockets. Empty. The brooch and the medieval spellbook would have my fingerprints on them. It would be bad if they were found in the room of a murder victim, but I didn’t want them in the hands of her killer or killers either.

  I used a shirt to wipe my prints from the light switch. I’d been in the room earlier. What had I touched? Were there strands of my hair in the room? I cringed, but forced myself to look at her body lying at the foot of the bed. There was a bloody paw print from where Merc had walked, plus a couple of my boot prints. I picked Merc up.

  “You go back to the car. I’ll meet you there in a minute.” I dropped him out the open window and turned. I should’ve worn gloves. Both times, I should’ve worn gloves. If I tried to wipe away my prints, would I also wipe away evidence that the real killer had left behind? Just because I’d been prepared to shoot Gwen didn’t mean I thought everyday murderers should go free.

  I spotted her keys on the nightstand. My brooch and book hadn’t been in the room earlier. Might they be in her car? I picked up the keys and shoved them in my pocket.

  I tucked the gun into the back of my jeans as I smudged Merc’s paw print as well as the ones I’d made. I was careful to rub my boot’s toe back and forth until I was sure I wouldn’t leave a new print. Then I turned out the light using the shirt and did the same to open the door. Most of the hotel rooms were dark and the cement walkway was clear. I dropped Gwen’s shirt, stepped outside, and closed the door with my forearm.

  I was two feet from the room when the door to Room 6 opened. I froze and wished I knew a spell to become invisible. Mrs. Thornton’s silver hair sparkled in the moonlight as she stepped out.

  “What are you doing there?” she asked.

  “I came to talk to Gwen. I think she took something of mine the night of the benefit and I want it back.”

  “What do you think she took?”

  “A piece of jewelry and a book.”

  “This seems an odd time to come looking for it. Why not earlier? Or later today?” Her cool green eyes sized me up. I felt like I had a big “I’m guilty!” stamp on my forehead and willed my cheeks not to flush.

  “She didn’t answer,” I said. “I’ll come back later.”

  “Is that why you attacked her earlier? Because you thought she stole something from you?”

  “I didn’t attack her. I wouldn’t do that to someone out of the blue. On the other hand, if someone attacks me first, I do mostly fight back.”

  “There are occasions when you draw your weapon first. For example, if someone threatens Bryn Lyons,” she said, her tone mild as milk.

  “It’s not only Bryn. There are quite a few people in town—and, in fact, the whole town itself—that I’d protect if it came down to it.”

  “And how far would you go to protect it?”

  “Far enough.”

  “Hmm. We’ll see. As far as Gwendolyn Vaughn’s story goes, we’ll discuss that later. You can tell us your side of what happened, and we’ll see what President Barrett thinks of it. I warn you though, this is no game. Lie at your own peril.”

  I nodded and didn’t exhale until she went back into her room and closed the door.

  Great. Now when the police questioned her, Mrs. Thornton would have to tell them that she saw me lurking around outside Gwen’s room at two a.m., only hours after Gwen had alleged that I’d assaulted her. Going on the run was starting to look kind of good.

  I crept through the parking lot, aware that with every step I was risking being seen again and that I was getting farther and farther from my car.

  Finally, I spot
ted her rental. With a heart that was slam-dancing in my chest, I unlocked it. I checked the front and backseats and the glove box. Nothing. Then I opened the trunk. Empty as well.

  How does that saying go? If not for bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all. I wiped off Gwen’s keys and dropped them on the front seat. Then I closed the door and walked away.

  Yep, running away from home was looking kind of good.

  All the way back to Bryn’s house, I couldn’t stop picturing the body. I gripped the steering wheel tight to keep my hands from shaking.

  “You know when Gwen tried to kill us, Merc, I thought maybe I could kill her back.” I shook my head. “If you would’ve died, I guess I might’ve been crazy bent on revenge. But seeing her like that . . .” I pursed my lips. “Put me down for self-defense, but the premeditated stuff? No. No way.”

  Mercutio licked my arm.

  “Thanks, Merc. You being a predator, I wasn’t sure you’d really support me on that.” I rubbed his fur.

  Bryn opened the gate and was standing in the doorway when I pulled up.

  “How’s Steve?”

  “Awake. He was pretty sick when he woke up, but he’s all right now. The paramedics came. We both declined transport to the nearest hospital, so they rebandaged my arm and left.

  “How is your arm?”

  He shrugged. “Hurts, but pain is sort of par for the course the past few weeks.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. You know what else is par for the course lately?”

  “What?”

  “Dead bodies.”

  His eyebrows rose. “What’s happened?”

  “I didn’t kill her.”

  “Who? Gwen?”

  “She was already dead when I found her.”

  “Gwen is dead?”

  I nodded. He looked around as if the answers to everything that had happened were floating somewhere around the room and if he looked hard enough, he’d spot them.

  “So you found her. In her hotel room?”

  I nodded again.

  “What were you doing there?”

  “Looking for my stuff that she stole.”

  “Why are you so determined to get it back? You’ve said the spellbook’s instructions are often impractical, and you’re not even sure the jewelry’s yours. Besides, what makes you so certain that Gwen took them?”

  “A hunch.” That I got from casting a spell that nearly drowned me.

  “Uh-huh.” Bryn sighed. “Did you touch the body?”

  “No way.”

  We talked for a few minutes more, but the nagging irritation about having lost the brooch was still there. I had to get it back.

  I glanced at Bryn’s profile, and a tingling sensation crawled over my skin. I was inexplicably attached to that brooch the same way I was connected to Bryn’s magic. To Bryn himself. The woman in the brooch . . . why did I want to help her so much? What if she wasn’t important to my family? What if she was important to Bryn? My mind tripped back through the things that everyone had said over the past couple days.

  “Bryn, why did you get kicked out of school?”

  “What?”

  I reached out and touched his forearm. “It keeps coming up. I heard that it changed your life, and Gwen mentioned it when she was here.”

  His eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t have anything to do with what’s going on now. Nothing to do with Gwen’s murder.”

  “What were you chasing that summer? Was it a girl?” There was a knot in my stomach that made it hard to look at him. Something about the memory haunted him. I could see it in his eyes, in the tightness of his mouth.

  He didn’t answer at first. It was unsettling since he’s not usually at a loss for words. I waited, muscles clenched.

  “My mother died before I really knew her. I wanted to meet her.” He glanced around, a faraway look in his eyes. “Wanted to talk to her. Just once.” It was only a few words, but they captured a heap of carefully guarded emotions.

  “What did you do?” I asked softly.

  “I called the dead.”

  “Did it work?”

  “No. And yes.” He rubbed the back of his neck like it exhausted him to think about it. “When she didn’t come at first, we fed more and more power into the spell and opened the incantation, casting it farther, beyond the place she died. A lot of souls returned. Some good. Those were gone in an instant. Some that were stuck on Earth. They were confused or begged for help. And finally there were some spirits that were darker than anything I’ve ever felt. They didn’t want to go back to Hell or wherever they’d been. Those souls wanted to stay. I’d used everything I had in me to bring them. So once they were out, I couldn’t force them back.”

  “Oh my gosh.”

  “Exactly. That prejudice I have against disenfranchised spirits, I earned it.”

  “Why do you think she didn’t come?”

  “She died young and innocent. A lot of people described her as being . . .” His jaw muscles worked, and his eyes shone unnaturally bright. “A ngelic. I suppose she’s too far inside to be called back by any magic, even to a son who was desperate to know her.”

  I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him tight. Tears dripped from my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” he murmured, clearing his throat. “It was a long time ago.”

  If Bryn hadn’t been able to call her to him, with all his magic and his bond to her, then there was no way that the woman attached to the brooch was related to him. But the idea that she could be needled me. His magic was the kind I felt best. Better even than my own.

  What color were the woman’s eyes? I’d been so focused on her pain that I hadn’t been paying attention to her eye color, but thinking back . . . I pictured her face. Blue, I realized. I was pretty sure they were a familiar deep blue.

  I pulled back, wiping my face. “Are you okay?”

  “You’re the one who’s crying,” he pointed out mildly, but I noted the flush in his cheeks and the blanched skin of his knuckles where he’d been clenching his fists.

  “Can I ask you something else? Unless it’s too hard for you to talk about,” I added.

  “Ask.”

  “Do you have any pictures of your mom?”

  There was a hint of a wry smile. “One or two,” he said. He hesitated, then waved for me to follow him. When he spoke again, his voice was utterly calm, like he was talking about someone else. “I don’t remember when I started collecting them. Lennox thinks I was about five.”

  He led me to the library and booted up his computer. He clicked open folders until he reached the one called Cassandra Lyons.

  “I’m pretty sure I have the original or a copy of every picture that was ever taken of her. A few years ago, I scanned them all in.”

  “To protect the photographs from damage,” I said matter-offactly. “I bet you keep the actual pictures in your impenetrable vault.”

  He glanced past me to the door and nodded. “Yes. I keep the originals in the vault.”

  I bit my lip, my eyes filling, but I blinked away the tears. He looked at me for a second, then at the screen. Perfect rows of icons. Hundreds—maybe thousands—of hours of work must have gone into getting all of them.

  “If I ever have a little boy, that’s how I want him to love me,” I whispered.

  His gaze stayed fixed on the monitor, as though he would’ve gladly joined her inside it. His voice came out soft and rough. “That button will play a slideshow or just click to open the individual pictures.” He walked away, going to the far windows, his back to me.

  I took a few slow breaths, staring at the keys. Don’t let it be her.

  My fingers trembled, hovering over the buttons. I wanted Cassandra Lyons to be in Heaven, knee-deep in angels and untouchable.

  I clenched my jaw to brace myself and clicked the slideshow icon.

  There she was. The beautiful brunette from the brooch, the one who’d been running for her life, the one who needed my help. Sparkling coba
lt eyes. A tiny dimple in her right cheek when she smiled. Once upon a time—before the brooch—she’d been happy.

  My heart squeezed painfully. Why did it have to be her?

  I covered my mouth, got up, and walked silently from the room.

  Down the hall. Through the kitchen. Out the back door.

  I wilted against the gray brick, my shoulders sagging. I bit my lip and closed the door to be sure Bryn wouldn’t hear me when I started crying again.

  Chapter 23

  It took me a few minutes to pull myself together. I couldn’t decide whether to tell Bryn about the brooch. On one hand, he might be able to help me get it back. On the other, I would shatter his peace of mind. He thought her soul was safe and happy. I didn’t want to take that away from him.

  A thick fog made it impossible to see the river. I blew out my breath slowly and shuffled through the grass toward the path that led to the guesthouse.

  I wouldn’t call Lennox and me friends, but we did have caring about Bryn in common. And he’d certainly want to know that his wife was trapped in a brooch and needed help. My feet crunched the gravel until I stopped walking. I didn’t know how she’d died. Foul play seemed likely.

  “When a woman is killed, the number one suspect is the husband,” I mumbled. That much I knew from being married to a sheriff ’s deputy. Plus, I watch television.

  I chewed on my lip, deciding that I’d gather information before giving any away. Assuming that he cooperated, which actually wasn’t all that likely.

  I stumbled along. The fog was as thick as cream of mushroom soup. I frowned. We never got much fog in Duvall. Fog was something I associated with places like London. I frowned. Had WAM brought fog with them?

  I finally got to the guesthouse and could see that there were lights on inside. I knocked. No one answered, so I knocked again harder.

  Finally, the front door opened. Lennox wore a thick black bathrobe and looked like he’d just gotten out of the shower.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “Can I come in?”

  He glanced over my shoulder, though unless his eyes doubled as fog lights, there was no way he could see if someone was lurking behind me.