Frozen: a ParaNormal mystery

by Amsden, Christine

  “Jim’s going to make it?” I asked, just to make sure.

  “Yeah. He’ll be fine. Got any food?”

  “In the den, but you’re going to have to convince Jim’s wife he’s alive first.”

  Evan reached the bottom of the stairs and took an eager Ana from my arms. Then he threw his free arm around me in a quick family hug.

  “How quickly can you shoo everyone away?” Evan whispered in my ear. His tone hinted at what, exactly, he wanted to do with me and an empty house, though we also had to get Ana to bed first.

  “I’ll do my best. Sarah’s going to want to see her husband, though.”

  Evan nodded, then led the way into the den to join the rest of the group. The low hum of noise emanating from the room stopped abruptly at his entry, but Evan pretended not to notice. He went straight to his favorite spot on a reclining love seat, cradling Ana close to his chest, and summoned a bottle of water from the wet bar. It glided sedately across the room to hover by Evan’s side for a moment before he closed his hand around it.

  Sarah and Frank flinched. Which I knew was the point. Evan was tired, badly in need of food, water, and rest, yet he wanted to prove to the near strangers in the room that he was as powerful as ever.

  Sighing, I set to work putting a plate of food together. When I finished, I traded the food for Ana, who protested loudly until I sat next to Evan and settled her in the thin space between us.

  “Jim should make a full recovery in a day or two,” Evan said.

  Sarah, who still had not found a seat, collapsed into a nearby chair. “Are you sure? Can I see him?”

  “He’s sleeping soundly. Don’t wake him.”

  Sarah nodded. “I won’t. I just need to see him.”

  “Madison,” Evan said, “can you take her upstairs to the yellow room?”

  Madison looked momentarily surprised at the request, but I saw the dawning comprehension in her eyes. We needed to talk, and Sarah was in the way. Madison didn’t really need to be here, but she did know the house well enough to take Sarah to the room we had designed specifically for healing. Yellow has healing properties, and the east-facing room on the third floor also got morning sunlight, which was potent for good health.

  When Madison led Sarah away, Frank and Sheriff Adams finally chose to sit, both taking opposite ends of the leather sofa. Scott continued to stand, arms crossed over his chest, looking ready for battle.

  “We still need to know what that creature was,” Sheriff Adams said. “And how to kill it.”

  “It’s a hell hound,” Evan said.

  Everyone stared at him.

  He shrugged and took a bite of sandwich, chewing slowly and swallowing before continuing. “What else could it be? The glowing red eyes were a pretty big giveaway.”

  “The sheriff thought it might be a werewolf,” Scott said.

  Evan rolled his eyes. “I bet you loved that. No, it’s a hell hound. I’ve seen pictures.”

  “Where?” just about everyone asked at the same time.

  “Master Wolf’s got some fun books at his place. Old. Hand-copied with hand-drawn pictures. Anyway, they’re fierce and very difficult to kill. But they’re also supposed to be extinct.”

  “What else do you know about them?” Sheriff Adams asked.

  “That’s about all I remember. I can visit Master Wolf tomorrow to find out more. In the meantime, we need to keep people away from that house.”

  “There are two dead bodies in that house!” Sheriff Adams glared at Evan. “I’ve got to get back in there and process the scene.”

  Evan raised one eyebrow, his expression utterly calm. “Okay, but there seems to be a hell hound lurking nearby.”

  “We should set up a police barricade,” Frank said. “Yellow tape across the driveway and issue an emergency alert to the community.”

  “That sounds like just the sort of thing that would attract curiosity-seekers.” I shook my head. “We’d be better off doing nothing at all.”

  “What happens when Jared’s parents or brother drop by for a visit?” Sheriff Adams started shaking his head too. “There’s got to be something we can do, even if we can’t get in to process the scene.”

  “A pretty simple ward would keep anyone from entering the property,” I said.

  Actually, the most basic ward was something like a brick wall, keeping anyone and everyone from entering or leaving a home. It was a sledgehammer, not at all elegant and usually not useful. It was a primer spell, one kids learned as a foundation for other, more useful spells. But in this case, it was all we needed.

  I could do it. I could drive over there right now, find my quiet place, focus the magic, and wham! Sledgehammer. It didn’t even need practice or refinement.

  And after all, Evan was worn out. He didn’t look exhausted or drained yet, but there was no reason for him to push it. Not when all I had to do was …

  “I’ll do it.” Scott was pacing back and forth behind the love seat where Evan and I sat. I’d almost forgotten he was there.

  “I don’t want to incur more debt.” The sheriff looked from Scott to Evan to me. “I don’t entirely understand how it works, which is why I rarely ask Evan along for magical consults. But he saved one of my men tonight.”

  It suddenly struck me why the sheriff had been so angry earlier. I closed my eyes, drew in a breath, then slowly let it out. Of course! He’d been afraid. He’d decided that Jim didn’t owe Evan the life debt – that he did. He was, after all, the sheriff. He was responsible for his men. And he’d asked Evan to come in the first place.

  He might not be wrong.

  I glanced at Evan, who had finished his sandwich and was busy working on his apple slices. Ana had an apple slice in her fist and was gnawing on it, oblivious to the tension in the room.

  “It’s complicated,” Evan said after a long moment of silence. “Ultimately, it’s up to you to take the burden of the debt from your deputy. If you feel that obligation, then it’s yours. But the debt is not so great as you might suppose. You’re a public servant, and helping you helps the community, which comes back to benefit me. In fact, if you make sure to follow your instincts and tell me whenever you think there’s a possibility that Cassie is in danger, I’ll consider us even.”

  “I’m not sure that’s necess-” I began.

  “Done,” the sheriff interrupted.

  “Done,” Evan echoed.

  I sighed. The men in my life were always trying to protect me. Some things never changed. At least this lifted the burden of magical debt, which is serious business. So was the sheriff’s promise to keep Evan in the loop, or it would never have served as effective repayment.

  “What about asking Scott to cast a spell for me?” the sheriff asked.

  “It’s not for you; it’s for my pack. All I need is for some fool to get torn to pieces by a hell hound and end up with an angry mob going after my werewolves.”

  The sheriff removed his hat, brushed his hand through his hair, then slammed the hat back on. “This is all semantics.”

  “It’s not all semantics,” I said, glancing sideways at Evan. “It can be very, very real. You’re right to be cautious.”

  “All right, then. I’ll drive you out there.” The sheriff stood and started for the door. “I don’t want too many people along in case things go wrong.”

  Scott nodded and wordlessly followed Sheriff Adams from the room.

  “Um,” Frank began.

  “Go home,” I said.

  “Thanks.” He was up and out so quickly I thought I saw skid marks. Clearly, all the magic talk had scared him.

  “Alone at last.” Evan sighed and visibly let himself relax into the leather, kicking up the recliner to Ana’s delight. She climbed off the sofa and proceeded to try to lower the footrest – one of her favorite games.

  “Madison, Sarah, and Jim are still upstairs,” I reminded him.

  He groaned. Then he looked longingly at his empty plate.

  “I got it.” I stoo
d and refilled the plate, returning to hand it wordlessly back to him. I plucked a half-chewed apple slice from the love seat before retaking my place next to him.

  “Thanks. Are you going to eat?”

  “I snacked all afternoon.” Out of nerves, I didn’t add. Mom’s absence from the party triggered all my overeating instincts.

  “Hey, this is no big deal, but just for the record,” Evan began, and I braced myself. Sentences that began like that didn’t end well. “The blood replenishment potion actually works better if you stir in the magic just before use.”

  I froze. I hadn’t – I couldn’t have infused magic into a potion by accident, could I?

  “I said it’s no big deal.” Evan brushed his hand over my upper arm. “Some potions work better when the magic has time to settle and really sink into the base liquids, but in this case the base liquids are designed to become the blood and when that sits on a shelf for a few weeks … well, it’s not ideal. We should mix up a new batch when we get a chance.”

  “Sure.” I stared at Ana, still busily trying to get Evan’s footstool to lower.

  “You’re allowed to use the magic you’re channeling.” Evan’s hand continued to make patterns on my upper arm, creating a tingling warmth wherever he touched. “It’s a survival mechanism, designed to help you protect your children while they’re still young. It doesn’t make you like your mother.”

  The sound of Madison’s laughter and her footfalls on the stairs kept me from having to answer. Which was a very good thing, because I knew he was wrong. If I wasn’t careful, I could end up exactly like my mother.

  Chapter 6

  EVAN AND I MADE LOVE THAT night, once the guests had left and Ana fell asleep. As much as I had needed a connection with my child, I also needed one with my husband. He was tired, and I was on edge, so we came together quickly in an encounter that was no less precious for its simplicity.

  He fell asleep immediately while I lay awake, staring at the high, vaulted ceiling of our master bedroom. It didn’t matter how often I saw it, death left a mark. And this death … they’d looked so scared. Nadine and Jared had been clutching one another, perhaps knowing death was imminent. And then it was over.

  Death is, perhaps, the only real ending to anyone’s story.

  I drifted into restless sleep and, as usual, caught only bits and pieces of dreams: Dense fog. A feeling of panic. A child’s face.

  None of it meant anything, though I would dutifully write it all down in my dream journal. Sometimes when I flipped back to see what I wrote last month or last year, I had an impression of what it really meant. Six months ago, I’d written about seeing Madison glowing from within – now she was pregnant. Around the same time, I’d dreamed of blood. Then Matthew uncovered Alexander DuPris’s use of blood magic.

  The images meant nothing to me before the fact, and probably wouldn’t as long as I could only catch glimpses. True dreaming was meant to show me far more than snapshots; I should be able to see vast possibilities and let my sleeping mind fathom complex contingencies.

  The worst thing was that I’d gotten a taste of it, back when I’d first discovered my gift. I’d seen enough to warn Kaitlin not to go with Jason – not that she’d listened. I’d seen other things too, mostly with the help of a dream catcher allowing only pleasant images to fill my mind at night. Too bad the future isn’t entirely full of pleasant images.

  Abigail Hastings, a gifted seer who had only begun to mentor me, died before she could finish imparting her wisdom. She’d died before she even knew for sure that I was a dreamer, though looking back, I think she suspected. Now it seemed everyone – or at least everyone who knew I was a dreamer – had some advice about how to recall my dreams, usually something along the lines of, “Relax, meditate before bed, and use these scents.” White Guard meetings were the worst; I knew they wanted me to truly be their seer, but the more they pressed, the worse things got.

  I woke the next morning to find Ana tugging up my nightshirt, plopping down sideways on the bed next to me, and helping herself. Evan crawled into bed behind me and the three of us lay like that for a few minutes, until Ana suddenly decided she was done.

  “I’d like to come with you to see Mr. Wolf today,” I told Evan as we dressed for the day. He usually visited his old master alone, but he didn’t usually go with an objective in mind.

  “I figured. Mom’s coming to babysit.”

  “Great.” I didn’t like to say bad things about his mother in front of him, but she gave me the creeps. I had to keep reminding myself that Evan turned out great, so surely I could trust her with my daughter for a few hours.

  It was two hours before we arrived at Henry Wolf’s house. First Jim had to be woken, fed, and reassured. He was much better, though he had only scattered memories of what had happened to him. His wife arrived during breakfast to fuss over him before she took him home. Then we had to wait for Laura Blackwood, who had apparently overslept. She arrived for babysitting wearing a pencil skirt and silk blouse. I didn’t say anything. Sometimes, you just gotta let things go.

  Finally, we made it to the two-bedroom cabin near Table Rock Lake, tucked neatly away down a dirt road. It was a sturdy building, but nothing connected it to the outside world. No phone lines. No power lines. No satellite dish. No plumbing. I still had trouble imagining Evan living here for three years, completely cut off from civilization, but he said it had been good for him. That the experience had allowed him to focus on his magic in a way nothing else could have.

  Mr. Wolf sat on a rocking chair on the front porch when we arrived, obviously expecting us. He had wards set miles away to alert him to any visitors – wanted or unwanted.

  He didn’t smile when we walked up the two wooden steps to the porch. He just kept rocking, staring at Evan.

  “Do I know you?” he asked.

  Evan sighed. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited in a while.”

  “Heh. Don’t know if I believe you. A man who’s sorry for not visitin’ someone don’t wait ‘til he needs something.”

  “What makes you think I need something?” Evan asked.

  “Mornin’, Cassie.” Mr. Wolf smiled at me. “Always nice to see you. You could come with Evan for a visit. Bring the baby.”

  “We invited you to the birthday party yesterday,” I said, although I started to feel a little guilty myself. I knew Mr. Wolf didn’t like crowds or parties.

  “Had to stay. Trainin’ up a new youngun.”

  “You got a new apprentice?” Evan straightened and I tried not to look too interested. Henry Wolf hadn’t taken on an apprentice since Evan had left him two and a half years ago.

  “Yep. He’s out checkin’ the wards. Told him we had intruders.”

  “I said I was sorry.” Evan sighed. “I should have made time for you; I know it. The White Guard keeps me busy, especially lately, since Matthew got back from Pennsylvania with proof that Alexander was using blood magic. We’ve got a flood of new recruits now, and just as many fights. It’s crazy.”

  “It’s crazy, but not just cuz of blood magic.” Mr. Wolf stopped rocking and leaned forward. “If you’d come to see me, I’d told you so.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked before Evan had the chance. “Does it have something to do with why a hell hound attacked a deputy last night?”

  Mr. Wolf didn’t look remotely surprised by this news. “I ‘spect so. There’s more magic in the air than usual. Can’t you feel it?”

  “I don’t know.” Evan looked at me. “What do you think?”

  “How would I know?” I didn’t meet his eyes. We hadn’t finished our conversation from the night before and I didn’t want to get into it here, in front of Mr. Wolf.

  “You been dreamin’ lately?” Mr. Wolf turned his wizened eyes to me, letting me feel the force of fathomless decades of power in the form of wisdom. No one knew how old Mr. Wolf was, but I suspected the answer would shock me.

  “I-I still don’t remember my dreams very often. Sometimes we
use the dream catcher, but then I only see good things, which doesn’t tell me a lot. I haven’t bothered with that in a few months.” I paused; I’d gotten too much advice over the last couple of years, but never from Mr. Wolf. Maybe he knew something the others didn’t. “Do you know a spell to help me remember my dreams?”

  “Yep. It’s a little thing I like to call confidence.”

  Evan chuckled. I glared at him.

  “What?” he asked. “I’ve been telling you the same thing.”

  He had, and it hadn’t helped in the least.

  “We could do the mind reading spell again,” I offered. We’d done that a few times; Evan would read my mind while I slept then tell me what I dreamed.

  Mr. Wolf shook his head. “You gotta be able to guide the dreams. Try the catcher. Better ‘n nothin’.”

  “Okay.” I looked him in the eyes and nodded. I would do it. I respected Mr. Wolf more than just about any other practitioner in town, even if he was a bit kooky. He always seemed to have his heart in the right place.

  “So hell hounds …?” Evan began.

  “What about ‘em?”

  “I can’t remember much from that book you showed me all those years ago. What can you tell me?”

  “They’re s’posed to be extinct.”

  “They’re not.” Evan shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and plopped down onto a wooden bench across from Mr. Wolf. Apparently, he’d decided to take it upon himself to sit down, since his master hadn’t extended the invitation.

  For my part, I decided to lean against a post where I’d have the advantage of height.

  “What are hell hounds?” I asked Mr. Wolf, deciding that Evan’s clipped comment wasn’t getting us anywhere. “Where do they come from? How did they supposedly die out?”

  “Not sure where they come from.” Mr. Wolf reached beside him to grab an old wooden pipe, which he proceeded to light up before continuing. “Never were too many, far as I know. Never ‘round here. Old stories put ‘em in France and Germany back in the Dark Ages.”

  “You have books about them,” Evan said.