by Joyce
“That’s right.” She nodded, tight-lipped. “Armageddon.”
We were all quiet for a moment after that. I bagged her supplies and handed them to her. “Thanks for stopping by.”
“Will you hold a memorial for her—for witches to attend?”
“I’m not sure yet. The Grand Council wants this kept quiet. I suppose we’ll wait, and find out if she was really killed by another witch.”
“Spooky times we live in.” She shuddered. “Magic artifacts disappearing and witches being killed.” She walked out of the shop with her bag.
“Eureka!” Elsie called out a moment later. She held the binoculars above her head. “I found them.”
Dorothy, who had been reading through an old, generic spell book, shot to her feet. “Are we going to the crime scene now?”
“I don’t see why we should wait any longer.” I came around the counter. “The longer we wait, the weaker the impressions will become.”
We closed the shop again and got back into my car.
“Don’t you have to work today?” Elsie asked our new witch.
“I took the day off. I could take weeks off, if I need to. I’ve never taken any vacation or sick leave, so I have a lot of time accumulated.”
We approached the alley where Olivia had been killed. The yellow crime scene tape at each end of the old street flapped forlornly in the breeze from the river. There were no police officers working, but it appeared to be safe.
Still, the evil deed that had been done had left its shadow. There was a gray pall over the entire area that only witches could see and feel. Going into that alley wasn’t a task any of us did without reservation.
“Maybe we should talk to the man who heard Olivia scream,” Elsie suggested. “We might be able to pick up something more from him than he thinks he can remember.”
“Is that like hypnosis?” Dorothy poked her head between the front seats.
“Something like that.” I parked the car at one end of the alley. There was no point in letting Dorothy get too far ahead of herself. It would be confusing. “We should also consider trying to find out which bar or restaurant Olivia came out of before she was killed. Joe is looking for videotapes. We should be able to follow her energy signature.”
Elsie shook her head. “There are only a few places around here that Olivia would have walked into. You know how particular she was. That narrows the search considerably.”
She was right. This was an old part of town. There were unpleasant memories embedded in the broken and dirty cobblestones. Not many people with finer awareness would want to be there for long.
I took a deep, cleansing breath and gathered my thoughts around me. I felt the power of the river close to where we stood.
Elsie did the same, except I knew she had to banish the water influence from her thoughts. We were standing next to a spot that advertised flame-grilled food. I hoped she could tap into some of that fire.
Dorothy closed her eyes and tried to emulate us. She opened them quickly and stood off to one side, looking a little forlorn and embarrassed.
“You gave up,” I said. “Did you try to feel the earth and the power of living things around you?”
“Kind of hard standing here between these buildings.”
I noticed a small patch of velvety green moss with several tendrils of climbing weeds struggling up into the watery sunshine.
“Close your eyes,” I said. “Lean down and put your hand here on the moss. Let yourself feel the strength and power of the earth. Strip away the brick and cobblestones—though they’re also made of earth. The living earth fills you, Dorothy. Draw it into you and let it go.”
She did as I suggested and then stood up quickly and looked at her hand.
“What was that? It felt like an electric shock, only different.”
“That is power you can draw from the earth to help balance nature. You can call it inside you whenever you need it.”
I covered her hand with mine and felt the earth magic surge inside her. The water magic had once been strong like this in me. I could still call on it, but it was weak. I knew someday it wouldn’t be there at all.
“All right.” I tried to keep myself from trembling. “We have to go into the alley now. Hold hands. Elsie and I will focus on Olivia. Dorothy, you focus on us.”
We walked timidly under the yellow tape and proceeded to the area where the police had found Olivia’s body.
There was nothing there except for a few dark stains on the wet ground that could’ve been blood—or grime that had been tracked around during the night.
“I can see her.” Elsie’s eyes were closed, but tears slipped from them. “I can feel her. She was so afraid. She panicked and forgot who she was, what she could do. She called out, but it wasn’t a scream for help.”
I saw Olivia too. She was fighting someone much stronger than she was. She knew she had no chance of winning. At the end, she was calm, and had left a message for us.
“Dorothy Lane.” Dorothy was first to say it. “She called my name!”
We opened our eyes, sniffling a little from the experience. It was a sobering moment, watching helplessly as our friend was struck down.
“Why did she call for Dorothy?” Elsie pulled out her lacy purple handkerchief.
“I don’t know. Maybe that was what she was thinking about. Maybe she was using her last bit of power to call Dorothy to us.”
“Maybe.” Elsie blew her nose loudly. “She knew we were going to need her more than ever. Trust Olivia to look after us even as she was dying.”
“Was she that sure I’d want to be a witch with you all?” Dorothy shook her head. “This is very strange and scary. I didn’t even know her, but I felt—something. I couldn’t see her, but it was like I knew her. Whatever it was broke my heart.”
Dorothy started sobbing. I knew it was time for us to get out of the alley. I put my arm around her and turned to leave.
Joe was standing behind us. “You shouldn’t be here, Molly.”
CHAPTER 7
Bless this plant and let it grow,
Hiding here, no one will know.
Strong and green, earth’s tapestry,
Let it thrive, so mote it be!
I couldn’t speak to Joe. My emotions were too raw. I urged Elsie and Dorothy to leave the alley. The three of us hurried under the yellow tape and out on the sidewalk.
“Molly?” Joe called after me before his long strides caught up. “I need to know what you’re doing out here.”
“We were putting flowers on Olivia’s last place on earth.” My voice cracked with tears. “We came to say a prayer for her. I’m sorry if we got in your way.”
“Flowers? I didn’t see any flowers.” He looked back, and there was a bouquet of pink wildflowers growing from the patch of green moss. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to doubt your word.”
Dorothy stopped crying long enough to take a peek and mouth Wow! at me.
It was the combination of our magic that had made it happen. I wouldn’t normally do something so flashy, but this wasn’t a normal situation. I thought our grief added to the strength of the spell too.
“Listen, I’m sorry to rush you out of there that way,” Joe said. “The crime scene team is on their way to go through the alley again. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“They didn’t find anything the last time they went through it?” I asked.
“No. Not a thing. It’s as though someone scrubbed the alley after they killed your friend.”
“What about the videotapes from the bars and restaurants?”
“Nothing there either. If Olivia was in any of these places, there was no sign of her.”
That was good, and bad, news.
I’d hoped we’d be able to find Olivia’s killer or at least prove who it was. Most cert
ainly the witch who’d killed Olivia had wiped away all trace of having been there. Even we hadn’t been able to feel any magic left behind.
The good news was that Joe was pushed further away from Olivia’s death. I knew that would be frustrating for him, but it eased my mind.
Two cars pulled up that were marked “Crime Scene Investigation.” Lisbet arrived too and started walking toward us.
“Just don’t go back in there again, okay, sweetie?” Joe put his arm around me and kissed my forehead. “Let us figure this out. Stay out of her house too. It’s different now. You can’t wander in and out like she’s still there.”
“Of course.” I smiled and kissed him back.
Lisbet waved to me as Joe met her. They walked back toward the alley together.
“No sign of anything in the alley,” Elsie muttered.
“And nothing on any videotape,” I added.
“What does that mean?” Dorothy whispered.
“Combined with what happened at the house, it means magic was involved.” I opened the car door. “It’s what we feared.”
“I hate to think that another witch killed Olivia for the spell book.” Elsie took out her handkerchief again.
“Or the spell book was secondary, and she was killed to collect more magic.”
“I wonder what part Brian Fuller played in it, if any.” Elsie tried to get herself together.
“Do you think that’s why she called for me when she was dying?” Dorothy didn’t get in the car right away. “Maybe she needed my magic.”
“I don’t know.” I got behind the steering wheel. “We’ll have to figure that out with the rest of it.”
“How are we gonna find the man who heard Olivia scream?” Dorothy finally got in.
“I’m not sure yet.” My brain felt crammed too full of problems that didn’t have answers. “I might be able to get Joe to tell me who he is.”
“Look!” Elsie pointed in the direction of the dock. “Doesn’t that look like—?”
“Brian Fuller!”
Dorothy turned her head to see where we pointed. Brian was getting on the old-time steamboat that took tourists on narrated trips of the river.
“That’s him.” I unfastened my seatbelt. “Let’s go.”
“What are the chances that he’d be here now?” Elsie queried. “It could be a trap.”
I agreed, but we couldn’t give up the chance to talk to him about Olivia.
“But isn’t your husband going to think something weird is happening?” Dorothy asked. “He’s still standing right over there.”
I bit my lip. She was right. He was not only standing at the opening to the alley as the crime scene techs went back in, he was staring right at us.
“Does he know you’re a witch?” Dorothy asked.
“No. He doesn’t,” Elsie answered for me. “My daughter doesn’t know either. The council frowns on telling family members who aren’t witches that there is magic.”
“Does that mean you can’t do it?”
Elsie shrugged. “It can be dangerous for the family. The council can get very nasty. It’s probably for the best anyway. Your family might think you’re a little cuckoo. My mother used to call it touched. Either way, you end up in therapy.”
“We have to get on that riverboat.” I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. “Let’s not panic. We’ll work this out.”
I started the engine and drove slowly past the spot where Joe was standing, even waving as I went by. I made a sudden left as soon as I’d passed him. That took us behind one of the older buildings. We parked there. “He won’t see us get on the riverboat from here.”
“I don’t have any money for a ticket,” Dorothy said. “Sorry. Librarians don’t make much money, you know.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Elsie picked up her bag and righted her hat. “We’re going to be standing right next to the old river. We have a water witch and an old ticket stub. We’ll be fine.”
I went up the gangplank first, feeling the depth and flow of the Cape Fear River beneath me. The young man at the admissions counter took the old ticket stub that Elsie had saved from a previous trip.
“There are three of us today.” I muttered a charm as I gave it to him. If I could stand in or by the river all the time, I wouldn’t even notice my waning powers.
He saluted me. “Of course, ma’am. Happy to have you on board.”
We went up to the top deck and watched the activity on the boat. There was no sign of Brian Fuller.
“We saw him get on the boat,” Dorothy said. “He has to be here, unless he jumped overboard.”
“I don’t think that happened.” I was actually keeping a closer eye on Joe. He was still standing outside the alley. It would take only a turn of his head for him to see us.
In my experience with the natural world, the best way to call attention to yourself is to invite trouble by looking for it. I turned away from my husband and put my back against the rail. He was certainly more likely to see us if I kept staring at him.
“What do we do now?” Elsie asked. “This is a big boat.”
The riverboat blew its whistle twice and cast off from the dock.
“Isn’t there a spell or something you can do, Molly?” Dorothy wondered.
“It would take more preparation than I have time for now. Our best bet is to wander the boat slowly, like we’re enjoying the ride, and find Brian.”
“What are we going to do when we find him?” Elsie compensated for the wind blowing at her hat by sticking a large pin into it.
“We’ll bind him so he has to stay with us,” I replied.
“Can we do that?” she whispered. “You know I’m not at my best on the water.”
“I know.” I patted her hand. “But you still have something you can put into the pot. Dorothy’s earth energies should be fine—even close to the water. We should be able to manage a binding spell. We’ll take him back to the shop and question him.”
We all agreed with the plan and started walking slowly around the top deck as the history of Wilmington unfolded around us.
We passed the USS North Carolina battleship as she lay at anchor for school tours and private visits. She would never set out to sea again, but the ship had faced many battles during World War II and deserved her cushy retirement.
There was a replica of a tall, three-masted sailing ship in harbor. It was modeled after one of the American blockade runners that had kept the Confederacy alive during the Civil War. At that time, the daring captains had outmaneuvered much larger ships to deliver supplies to the desperate citizens of the city.
It was painted bright blue, red and green—one of the old runners would never have wanted to draw that much attention. Hundreds of seagulls were perched on its masts.
We’d reached the bottom deck by that time. Several other passengers were going up to the top deck for a better view. There was only one other person on the bottom deck. It had to be Brian.
“He’s dressed differently,” Elsie noticed. “Was he wearing that cloak when he got on board?”
“No.” Dorothy sounded worried. “Where did he get that? Is it a witch thing?”
“Slowly,” I advised in a whisper as we approached him, ignoring their chatter. What difference did it make what he was wearing? “I know you don’t know a binding spell yet, Dorothy. Concentrate on what we want to do. Think about Brian not walking away from us. Envision that he’s bound to us by a rope. Got it?”
“I’ve got it.”
Elsie and I repeated the binding spell that had been in our spell book. I could hear the words in my head as I thought them. It was easy to recall since I’d used it many times for various purposes—none like this one.
He was standing at the railing, looking at the city, his back to us. The large, hooded cape he wore billowed around him
. It should have been simple to catch him unaware.
But I was so caught up in trying to make the binding spell as strong as possible that I didn’t question anything until it was too late.
There was no face—no form that I could see—inside the cloak. If Brian had been there, he was gone.
“Molly?” Dorothy’s voice was shaking as we faced the empty cloak.
Before I could reassure her, I heard a muttered spell, and in the blink of an eye, we were falling from the bottom deck of the boat and into the cold river water.
CHAPTER 8
I am invisible to my enemies.
They will not see me until it is too late.
I will bring them to their knees.
For their defeat, I wait.
I could happily have drifted in the river forever. There was no sense of panic or worry about survival. I felt more at home in water than I did on land.
Something rapped on the top of my head. It was Elsie. She pointed toward the surface, her cheeks puffed out with air, and started kicking her feet.
I became aware that my lungs were burning. It was one of those cases where the spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak. I started kicking my feet too and surfaced right next to her.
Dorothy’s head was already above the water. “What was that? Did someone throw us overboard? All of a sudden, I was in the water.”
“That”—Elsie spit out brown river water—“was a powerful witch.”
“He saw us coming,” I agreed. “He’d already worked his spell. We were too close to do anything about it.”
“Well, let’s face it—we’ve never had a run-in with a witch like him.” Elsie splashed around. “I think I’ve lost my shoes.”
It was funny in a way because she was clutching her bag, and the pin still held her drooping hat on her head. It looked like a sodden purple pancake, but it was still there.
“Is there a spell that can protect us from powerful witches?” Dorothy asked with a wealth of fear in her voice.
“I’m sure there is,” I responded. “But you have to realize what you’re up against first.”