The Midsummer Murders

by Jill Nojack

  “But there’ll be danger for me if you stay. You’ll be a distraction. My head must be clear for this. Please do as I say. We’ll have plenty of time to snipe at each other when we’re man and wife.”

  That got him. A smile spread across his face in the magical light despite the dire situation.

  “Well, if you put it that way...golly.” He stepped back down to a lower stair.

  “Good. We’re going in. Once we are, close the door. Then every single one of you needs to skeedaddle.”

  She turned to her friends, the Mother and Crone, and they each grasped one of her hands as she led them through the doorway.

  ***

  A sliver of light from the streetlamp outside illuminated a swath through the gloom inside Twink’s room, reaching to the foot of the bed, making the red satin spread look glossy where it shone the brightest. But near the head, near the dark shape, there was no gloss and no definition. And above, an even blacker darkness swirled.

  “Light it up, ladies,” Natalie commanded, bringing her own hand up with a a ball of blue light that she sent floating toward the ceiling. A pink ball of light from Cassie’s hand joined it, and an amber one from Gillian’s hand followed.

  She got her first look at what was swirling above the girl’s still form as they lit the room, and its form was familiar yet frightening. The girl’s skin was still smooth, at least. They’d arrived in time. But only if she could keep its focus away from Twink. Until that moment she hadn’t known what they were facing, but now everything in her said the stories about Ruby Averill had been true.

  “Skinwalker,” she hissed beneath her breath.

  Cassie whispered, “You said there aren’t any. They’re dead.”

  “So they would apparently have had everyone believe. But this one had been living amongst us in the Salem community for a good seventy years. The last of her kind, perhaps.”

  “You mean that’s a...you can’t mean...” Gillian started to form a question, her voice low and controlled until the Ruby-face the thing wore thrust forward, stopping inches from hers.

  She gasped out, “Oh Goddess!” as she jumped back.

  The specter with the familiar face answered the question in its rustling voice, “Ruby Averill. Yes, a good skin. Some suspected, but they wanted to believe they’d destroyed us all. I wore her for a long time. And this one will suit me just as well now that I have fed from living essence to build my magic for the transformation. Be off, witches. I have my work to do.”

  “Really?” Natalie replied. “You want a frail little thing like that who will only last maybe another sixty or seventy years? Why not make a smarter choice and live forever?”

  “Your djinn will live forever, but I cannot take his skin. If I could, he’d already be mine.”

  Natalie motioned subtly for the others to step back, and she heard them moving a few paces toward the door, then stopping. Good. They’d be there when she needed them but they were still too far away to do something impulsive that would interfere.

  The Ruby-face swirled away and reappeared above the girl. It began to coalesce into a new form. Twink’s form. It mirrored her in its dark essence. But it happened slowly. Very slowly.

  Natalie interrupted again.

  “You’re the last of your kind. The only one? You stayed hidden all this time for that reason?”

  “Leave me. I’ve gathered my magic and my work begins. Interrupt again at your peril, witch.”

  “Take me instead,” Natalie said. She heard Cassie take in a big gulp of air behind her, and Gillian let go of the one she’d been holding.

  “Take you? How many years do you have? Five? Ten? And look at you—you’re a wrinkled old crone.” The skinwalker made a gagging sound that Natalie thought might be laughter.

  “I most certainly am not a crone. Not technically. And I’ll live longer than the combined lives of everyone in this room. I’ve had an upgrade. And because you lived as Ruby and were aware of me, you know the kind of magic this body commands. You’ll find that girl’s puny magic a disappointment after having had real power at your disposal.”

  “And how will you live that long? You are not djinn.”

  It was working. The transparent twin of Twink’s form was decaying again into a dark mist as the skinwalker’s attention was drawn away from her.

  “No. But I’ve had a transfusion from one. It saved me from your stickpin trap, and there’s plenty more where that came from. You won’t look young. But you’ll be strong and live a long, long life with William’s help. And my William is a fool who will keep this skin alive forever in the hope that I’m still in it somewhere. You’d have a permanent, powerful home. Isn’t that better than beauty?”

  If it’s possible for a transparent mass of mist to look conflicted, this one did. Its not-quite-Twink expression mixed confusion with desire.

  Now to push the thing over the edge.

  “And William will be yours just like he’s mine. Imagine the earthy fun you can have with a man who can look like anyone you wish. Any old lovers you’d like to see again? He can make that happen.”

  What came next sounded like a wistful sigh of longing. “My Malachai. My Hozshona.”

  She’d nailed it. Who wanted to live forever without the ones they loved? It’s why spirits who had been around for a while usually moved on quickly when she called their portal back for them. Why cling to life when everyone you loved has already left the earthly plane?

  “Yes. Anyone you want. Forever.”

  “Why would you give yourself to me?”

  “To save the girl. To save my witches. You can have my body, but to get it, you have to promise you’ll leave them alone. I don’t care if you stay here or go, but you’ll agree not to harm them or embroil them in any of your schemes like you did with the witches of Salem. Go back to them, for all I care. They aren’t my family. It isn’t up to me to protect them.”

  The skinwalker responded in a chaotic swirl, finally thrusting forward a new face, head, and shoulders with which to address her.

  It was her own.

  She’d looked better.

  “I will take your offer,” it said.

  “Good. If you’d move aside so my helpers can get the girl out of the way, I’ll take her place so that you have room to work.”

  She motioned for Gillian and Cassie to come forward. They did it, but not eagerly.

  “You can’t do this, Nat!” Cassie protested.

  “And yet I am. Get Twink out of here where she’ll be safe. No more protests. Trust that I have chosen the wisest path.” She looked from Cassie to Gillian, and that was it. It was done. “And Gillian—when you become high priestess, make the decisions I would make. Give William the advice that I would give him. Do you understand?”

  Gillian nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

  The skinwalker flowed to the side of the bed, away from Twink. Cassie and Gillian struggled with the girl’s limp body, even though she was slight. She was dead weight, kept unconscious as part of the monster’s work.

  The door opened for them when Gillian waved her free hand at it, then they got Twink out to the landing, supporting her on both sides. They lay her down gently once her trailing feet were past the threshold.

  As they stood back up, Natalie called, “Cassie? Get the bird. See if there’s anything Darrin can do for it.” She nodded her head toward the still form at the baseboard of the street-side wall. Cassie’s throat convulsed in a gulp, but she walked briskly around the outside walls, keeping an eye on the now Natalie-shaped mist that peered back at her, watchful.

  She snatched the crow up with both hands, cradling it carefully and supporting its head, then darted back out of the room.

  Natalie flung out a hand once she cleared the threshold, and the door slammed behind her.

  Just you and me now, Natalie thought, turning her attention back to the creature.

  She walked to the bed, ran her hand slowly across the smooth red satin spread, then sat, took her
shoes off, and pulled her feet up to lie on her back, eyes open, her red purse with its vintage shine competing with the bedding.

  Her own face stared back at her, the crepey skin under her chin and at her jowls punishment enough for the thing to have to put up with for forever, she thought.

  And certainly, proximity to the thing was not pleasant. Up close, the rustling noise sounded like muffled screaming. But there was a familiar scent and a familiar feel to the monster’s mist. She smiled as she realized what it was.

  Suddenly, there was a plan.

  25

  “She’s coming around,” Gillian said as Twink’s eyelids fluttered. The older witch’s hands still gently cupped Twink’s face, and light blue magic flowed freely toward the teen, who murmured something unintelligible, then moved languidly to raise her arms in a long stretch.

  Gillian stopped the healing flow and stepped back.

  When Twink’s eyes opened, they grew wide as they scanned the cluster of people standing over her, and she realized Daria held her head in her lap, smoothing her hair.

  “Daria? What the? Everybody get out of my room!”

  “About that,” Gillian said. “Your room is currently occupied by Ruby Averill’s skinwalker. Natalie offered herself in exchange for you.”

  Twink thrust herself up abruptly to sit, but leaned heavily on her hands after she did. She was woozy.

  “Take your time. Steady yourself. You’re still recovering from a spell that kept you unconscious,” Cassie said.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The perfume bottle,” Gillian replied. “You promised to consult one of us before you tried any magic we hadn’t approved in advance and to report all enspelled objects you might run across, but you didn’t keep that promise.”

  “I didn’t use the spell. I was going to tell someone about it in the morning. I promise I was! Marcus gave it to me for my birthday. I couldn’t go around waking everyone up to tell them.”

  “You want me to feel sorry for you now? My high priestess, my friend, traded herself for you, for your lie.” Gillian stood up and turned away, looking to the stairwell. “And all we can do is wait. And hope that when she walks back down those stairs that what’s inside her skin is still the suspicious, short-tempered curmudgeon I’ve known and cared about for close to forty years.”

  “I didn’t ask her to...I...”

  “If you got Gillian mad at you, just imagine how the rest of us feel,” Cassie interrupted. “I’d save your excuses for later, if I was you. I’m glad we got here in time, but I’m not in a forgiving mood right now.”

  A tear appeared at the corner of Twink’s eye. “I’m so, so, sorry. I am. Gillian, she has to have a plan, right?”

  Gillian’s head bowed low toward her chest and she didn’t answer.

  A small black figure worked its way through the sea of legs, cawing as it darted through.

  “Crow! I thought you were dead.” Her voice caught as she reached out toward him, laying a gentle hand at the back of his head. Hazy details were coming back to her now.

  “Natalie made me rescue him before she threw us out,” Cassie said. “Darrin patched him up, but he won’t be ready for any cross-town flights any time soon. It will take a few days for his head and wing to heal fully, even though he’s had both veterinary and magical care. He was in bad shape.”

  “I’ll take care of him.” She ran the tips of her fingers down the back of the crow’s inky neck. “He tried to save me.”

  “He’s your bound familiar,” Gillian said, still not looking at Twink, her voice hard and unforgiving. “It’s not like he had a choice.”

  Surprised whispers passed among the witches. No one would expect such harsh words from Gillian, Twink knew. She was the wise one, the forgiving one, the one who had seen and accepted all of life, wasn’t she? The Crone. And yet Twink also knew that she deserved them. She covered her eyes to hide her tears. If Natalie had given up her life, she would never forgive herself.

  Gillian’s tone was softer when she said, “I’m sorry. That was over the line. And yes, I’m angry with you. But you didn’t do anything that any of us wouldn’t have done when we were young and foolish witches who didn’t understand the dangers that come with magic. It’s just...the price.”

  Twink met her eyes and nodded.

  “If...No! Not if. When Natalie comes down those stairs, she can decide your punishment and it’ll be done with.”

  A muffled, pained yelp sounded in the room above their heads.

  ***

  A perfect funnel? Whose thought was that?

  She’d vacation in hell’s worst hotel before she’d let the monster in! Natalie sent another blast of pain into her thigh and cried out as the hand inside her purse clenched down hard on the object she’d shoplifted from the top of the vanity.

  She drew it out, twisting its magic, milking it, her formless words ringing from the rafters as she turned the spell inside out without being able to shape them. But the intent was there. The magic would know. When she was done, the creature was drawn away from her gaping mouth. Finally, she could close it again. Her tongue felt like sandpaper,

  “I might give up my life,” she croaked from her parched throat, “but I’d never give you my William. No, you won’t touch a hair on my djinny, djinn, djinn!” She thrust the bottle upward toward her pointy-headed double. “It’s back in the bottle for you!”

  She yawned, unable to totally shake the lethargy, but held the bottle high despite her exhaustion. There would be plenty of time for a nap soon. She didn’t know much about skinwalkers, but she knew plenty about ectoplasm and how to manipulate it. She’d literally been bred for it.

  The spell she’d worked with a little of her magic and the leftover trace of ectoplasm in the bottle was enough to call its greater portion back to the vessel.

  All the centuries native people had walked in fear of the monsters and all it would have taken to destroy them was one sleepy death witch. Ectoplasm. How had no one known?

  Her free hand covered her mouth again as she yawned, and the bottle dipped lower. The haze above her had rearranged itself now, it’s mimicking face thrusting out from the smoky half body left after so much of it had already been drawn into the bottle.

  “My legs aren’t that scrawny,” Natalie protested, looking at the appendages dangling like a surreal portrait behind the thing’s contorted face. Her face. “You’d think you’d have had enough practice to get these things right by now.”

  “Let me go,” it whispered. “You asked before and now I answer. I am the last of my kind.”

  Natalie stretched sleepily. “As am I. At least as far as I know. I guess it’s about time we met.” She realized she’d lowered the bottle again, and some of the creature’s essence was finding its way back out. She thrust the bottle higher and concentrated her magic at the tips of her fingers to draw down the escaping strands. “You’re only trying to survive. I understand that. If there was any other way...”

  “Please...you understand what it is to be alone, to be the last...let me go...” Its voice melted away as it disappeared up to its knees, the face hanging there still, an agonized mirror of her own in filmy darkness.

  Natalie turned her head. She tried not to think about what she herself had done to survive such a short time ago.

  Goddess, but she was tired.

  When she turned back to the bottle, the room was clear. She corked it, rolled over on her side, and was snoring rhythmically with it cradled against her side when the door burst open. A djinn, a mother, and a crone spilled into the room.

  She opened one eye, yawned, and rolled over to block them out.

  ***

  “Yes, yes. Stop fussing over me. I’m trying to get a little sleep here. It’s late,” Natalie said, her voice simultaneously groggy and cranky.

  “It’s her!” Cassie’s face covered itself in an enormous smile. “You know it’s her.”

  “Of course it’s me.” Something hard pressed agai
nst a rib, and she rolled over, bringing it close to her face. “Hmmmm. Yes, that’s taken care of.” She set the bottle with its swirling gobbet of ectoplasm on the bedside table.

  She tried to sit, but she wobbled and gave up, unable to manage it on her own. William rushed in to help her raise her upper body from the bed, then stayed by her side, steadying her with an arm around her waist.

  She beamed at him, and he beamed back.

  “Ummm, okay...might not be Natalie after all...” As Cassie’s voice trailed off, the doubt it contained lingered.

  “Transposed tetrazoid terrapins! Of course it’s me. Can’t a person share a smile with her intended without people questioning her identity?”

  “Your intended?” Gillian looked from Natalie to William, whose smile broadened until his face looked like it would split across the center.

  “We’re engaged! Gosh, could a man be any luckier than I am?”

  Natalie patted the hand that lay comfortably on her knee. “Yes, dear. A man could. Try not to go overboard. You know the saying; be careful what you wish for.”

  Cassie giggled and Gillian shook her head. “I suppose I’m convinced. How did you...”

  “Pah! Any creature made of ectoplasm should know better than to tangle with a death witch. Skinwalkers don’t appear to be terribly self aware.”

  “Um, Nat, congrats and all that, but the thing is...” Cassie stopped and looked at Gillian before continuing. “The thing is...”

  “Spit it out, girl!”

  “We were wondering if...”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you really take William’s blood?”

  “Oh. That.”

  “Yes, that,” Gillian responded. “You know what a danger that presents. How it will look.“

  “It will have to be kept quiet. Just between us. The coven can’t know. No one but us four. And Marcus. He was there.”

  “What on earth would possess you to do something like that?” Gillian asked. “Mess with dark magic? The darkest magic! Blood magic! You know better than most what trouble that can cause.”

  “Because if I hadn’t, a skinwalker would be wearing our youngest witch as a permanent Halloween costume.” She took a deep breath. “And I intended to trade myself for her. The price would have been a moot point unless it was the skinwalker who paid it.”