by Morgana Best
It was only around fifteen minutes or so before Thyme appeared. She hurried over to me. “Ruprecht called me. He was watching a movie and he’d turned off his phone. Mint went around there and told him everything that happened. He wants us to go straight around there now, but he wants you to bring the Book of Shadows.” Thyme paused to draw breath. “Are you all right, Amelia? Were they rough on you with the questioning?”
I shifted from one foot to the other to ease the pain in my back. “No, they were pretty good. How about you?”
“They were okay. When they let me go, I saw Sergeant Tinsdell take Craig in for questioning.”
I walked outside with Thyme. “Do you think Kayleen and Craig did it?”
Thyme paused for a moment. “It’s possible, I suppose. No one liked Scott Plank. It was rumored he did shady deals. I don’t know what motive they could’ve had, though. Are you still worried that the entity you summoned did it?”
I nodded. “Yes, and that reminds me. Some police officer I’ve never seen before came in and brought the three of us take out coffees and a heat pack for my back.”
Thyme looked surprised. “He did? That’s weird! How did anyone know about your back? And they’ve always given me horrible black coffee that tastes like it was made a week earlier.”
“Did any officer give you coffee today?”
“No. Amelia, that’s so weird!”
We had reached Thyme’s car. Surely Ruprecht would know what to do. And I hadn’t even told Alder Vervain what was happening. I didn’t want to call him in front of Thyme, given her attitude toward him. None of my friends liked Alder, because he came from a long line of witch hunters. They remained suspicious of him, despite my reassurances that he did not share the family views. Of course, I hadn’t told them that he himself was a Dark Witch—Alder had asked me to keep that confidential.
Alder and I had become friends, but I hoped we’d become more. I’d had dinner with him a couple of times, but we’d always been interrupted by more pressing matters—murder, to be precise. To say I had a crush on him was the understatement of the century. Even thinking about him made my heart flutter wildly.
I sent Alder a long text explaining as briefly as I could about the morning’s events, and telling him that Thyme was driving me straight to Ruprecht’s. Alder would then know not to call.
Thyme looked over at me. “Who are you texting?”
“Alder,” I said somewhat defensively.
Thyme pursed her lips. “He reminds me of a cross between Angel, and Spike on a good day.”
I frowned. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“You know, Spike was much cuter in the last season of Buffy.”
I sighed. This had to be one of the worst days I’d ever had, and that was saying something.
Chapter 6
Ruprecht was standing in the door of Glinda’s. Even as Thyme drew her car to a stop, I could see that Ruprecht’s face was white and drawn.
“Oh my dear!” Ruprecht greeted me. “I’m so sorry. I was watching such an uplifting film, Mitt liv som hund, or in English, My Life as a Dog. It is an inspiring 1985 Swedish film where a boy loses everything, his mother, his elderly friend, his beloved dog, but then thinks of worse things that have happened—such as the Russians sending that dog, Laika, into space to a certain death, and a track athlete who was accidentally speared by a javelin—and considers that his life isn’t so bad after all. We could all learn something from that.”
I nodded, figuring that his words were somehow intended to give me comfort, goodness knows how. They were more likely to give me nightmares or expensive therapy bills.
“I had my phone turned off so I could hear the movie,” he continued.
I was impressed. “I didn’t know you could speak Swedish, Ruprecht.”
He laughed. “Of course I can’t, Amelia. It had subtitles.”
Now I was even more confused. I shrugged and followed Ruprecht into his store, a strange combination of antiques and old books. It always reminded me of the set of a Harry Potter movie. The faint scent of white sage hung in the air, and it held none of the somewhat depressing and entirely claustrophobic atmosphere of many antique stores. The only sound was a faint rendition of lyres and double clarinets, Ruprecht’s favorite music, a reconstruction of ancient Greek music, or so he had informed me many a time.
Ruprecht’s apartment was directly behind his store, and we’d had countless important meetings there. Today would likely be the most important.
I passed the collection of weird and wonderful astronomical instruments and walked into the kitchen, where Camino and Mint were already sitting at the round table, their faces white and drawn.
There was a pungent smell in the room, sweet but strong. I looked at the thin ribbons of smoke rising from incense burning on charcoal tablets within little cauldrons placed about the room. Camino followed my gaze. “Fiery Wall of Protection,” she said. “Dragons Blood, frankincense, and myrrh.”
I took my seat at the table, and then quickly went through the morning’s events once more that day. When I concluded, Ruprecht wordlessly arose from the table and walked over to the countertop. He returned with a cup of brew which he placed in front of me. “What’s that?” I asked him as I watched the steam rise from it in spirals. “A potion to keep me safe from the supernatural assistant?”
Ruprecht shook his head. “It’s a cup of hot English Breakfast tea with three heaped spoons of sugar. Drink it, it will help with the shock.”
I clutched the cup and came straight to the point. “Do you think this supernatural entity assistant thing killed Scott Plank?” I hoped they would rush to assure me that it hadn’t, but to my dismay, they all remained silent.
“Let’s go into the living room where we can examine the Book of Shadows,” Ruprecht said.
I couldn’t help thinking it was a funeral procession as we filed one by one into the adjoining room. Ruprecht laid a piece of deep purple silk over the large table that sat resplendent in the center of the room. Golden sparkles flew from the silk as it swooshed through the air, and I didn’t know whether they were real or due to some kind of magic. I put the tin on the floor against one table leg. As I pulled out the Book of Shadows and set it on the table, everybody gasped.
“That must be Thelma’s book, the ancestral book of the Spelled family that was given to her by her husband, Wolff Spelled,” Camino said to Ruprecht. Her tone was one of wonder.
“Yes, of course it is,” Ruprecht said absently.
“Thelma Spelled, my great aunt?” I said. “Aunt Angelica’s mother?”
Ruprecht and Camino nodded solemnly.
I was perplexed. “But why would she bury it?”
“That’s the million dollar question,” Ruprecht said. “Angelica told me about the Book of Shadows, but she never mentioned what had become of it.” He raised one eyebrow at Camino, who nodded.
“She never mentioned it to me, either. I knew about the Spelled family’s Book of Shadows of course, but I didn’t know where it was.”
Ruprecht carefully, almost reverently, opened the Book of Shadows. “It’s in an amazing state of preservation,” he said, “given that it’s been buried all these years. Thelma must have enclosed it in a spell of protection.” He shut the book and turned to me. “Now, Amelia, show me the spell that you read out aloud.”
I felt defensive and more than a little guilty. “I really didn’t mean to read the spell,” I said. “I was on hold to Helen Harden, the physical therapist, and I was flipping through the book while I was waiting for her to speak again.” I noted Ruprecht’s abject look of horror at the fact that anyone would do something so impertinent as to flip through such a book. “I came across a spell to improve one’s baking,” I continued, “but it was in Latin, I think. I didn’t know what it said, but I read it aloud. That’s when the entity appeared.” I carefully opened the book. It was a thick book, so it took me a while to find the spell. “There it is.” I pointed to the heading
that said, Spell to improve one’s baking.
The others looked over my shoulder, but Ruprecht leaned so close to the book that I thought his nose would touch it. “It’s in Latin,” he proclaimed. “My Latin is a little rusty.”
I held my breath as Ruprecht bent over the text. “Oh no!” he exclaimed after an interval.
“What is it? Is it bad?” I rubbed my hands together with anxiety.
“There.” Ruprecht pointed to a line beneath the Latin. “‘Beware the vox nihili.’”
I was puzzled. “What’s a vox nihili?”
Ruprecht rubbed his chin. “Literally it is the voice of nothing, a typo if you will. It’s a type of spelling mistake. You know when AutoCorrect on your phone makes a mess of something, turns something into meaningless writing?” We all nodded. “It’s the same. When someone was copying this spell into the Book of Shadows, they copied a word wrongly, perhaps even simply copied a letter wrongly. Later, maybe even decades later, someone noticed the mistake, and made the note below it. Do you realize what this means, Amelia?”
“No,” I said truthfully. I was still stuck on the fact that ancient people made typos.
I had never seen Ruprecht look so worried. “It means that you didn’t summon an assistant to help you become a better baker.”
I hardly dared ask the question. “Then, um, then what exactly did I summon?” I stuttered, clutching my stomach as a wave of nausea hit me.
Ruprecht shut the book and met my eyes squarely. “I don’t know, and that’s what worries me. To tell you the truth, Amelia, it could be anything, even an ancient demon.” He held up his hand. “But then again, it could be a harmless trickster. We won’t know until I read through all this Latin, and that could take me quite a while. Would you mind leaving the Book of Shadows with me?”
I readily agreed. Things weren’t looking good, not at all.
Chapter 7
I adjusted my girls in the mirror at the restaurant entrance, wishing I’d worn a push up bra. Tall, dark, and handsome does not come around every day, after all. Alder ticked all three of those boxes, not to mention he was also wickedly gorgeous and paying for lunch. Actually, two push up bras would have been better. I supposed I didn’t look too bad, but then again, the lighting in here was dim.
“Ahem.”
I turned to see a tall waiter. He frowned and I smiled, an apology he did not seem interested in taking. He indicated that I should follow him, and I did so, glancing back to check out my derrière. He weaved his way past other patrons, past a myriad of mismatched paintings hanging on the mustard yet golden-speckled walls, and past stacks of ancient books whose musty scent rode roughshod over the pleasant aroma of Italian cooking.
I paused to look at the uncomfortable wooden chair against a table at the back of the room, and placed my purse on the red and white checked tablecloth. The waiter had already abandoned me—he had spotted Alder and was hurrying to greet him enthusiastically.
“Sorry I’m late,” Alder said, hurrying over and kissing me on the cheek.
I quivered at the feel of his lips and the firm hand on the small of my back. “Alder. Nice to see you.”
Alder had been out of town for a while on a case, and had returned late the previous night. “It’s been a while—too long. Have you fallen impossibly in love with another man, Amelia? Am I going to have to fight for your affections?” He winked at me.
I took a deep breath. “There is no man, but yes, my affections still need to be fought for.” I congratulated myself for my fast thinking—in fact, for the fact that I was able to think at all, given what Alder had just said. My knees knocked together wildly.
The waiter chose that moment to reappear. Alder glanced quickly at the menu before he ordered. “I’ll have the rump steak with green peppercorn sauce and Greek salad.”
The waiter looked at me with one eyebrow raised. “I’ll have the chicken carbonara. It’s only lunch time. I’ll leave the rump steak for later.”
“I’ll bet,” the waiter muttered.
I glared at him, and was relieved that Alder hadn’t seemed to notice the remark. He smiled at me. “I was shocked when you told me everything that’s happened.”
“I’ll show you the Book of Shadows as soon as Ruprecht’s finished with it,” I said. “They say it belonged to my great aunt Thelma.”
“I’d love to see it.” Alder smiled at me and I did my best to stop my stomach doing flip-flops. “So do you really think the entity you summoned murdered that man?”
I rested my head in my hands. “Oh gosh, don’t say that! I sure hope not. I’ll know more when Ruprecht manages to translate the Latin.”
“I have some ancient arcane books from the family collection that you’re welcome to look through,” Alder said. “In fact, maybe we should go through them together. Meanwhile, I’ll do a bit of snooping around about Kayleen and Craig. I’ve never trusted that man.”
I allowed myself a small smile at the scowl on his face and hoped that it was because I had briefly dated Craig. “But would Craig or Kayleen have any motive to murder Scott Plank?” I wondered aloud. “And if they did, they’d have to have been in it together.” I was going to say more, but the waiter returned.
“Your champagne, sir.” The waiter shot me a speculative look before leaving.
“Champagne?”
Alder smiled. “We haven’t seen each other for a while, and I wanted to celebrate.”
I was touched.
“Did you know that Kayleen and Scott Plank used to date?”
My mouth fell open. “No, I had no idea! Are you sure?”
Alder nodded. “Yes, quite sure. It was years ago.”
“Then it couldn’t have been anything arising out of that,” I said, “or she would’ve done away with him years ago.”
“I’ll do what I can to turn up information on both of them. I’ll see if they had any associations with Scott through the Council, what with him being the Town Planner.”
I nodded. “Good idea.” Just then I saw a light in my purse. I glanced down to see a missed call on my phone. It was from Ruprecht. I didn’t want to call him back in front of Alder, as I’d have to explain where I was. I didn’t want to keep Alder a secret from Ruprecht, but given the fact that Ruprecht and my friends were all suspicious of him, it would bring extra stress that I didn’t need right now.
I excused myself, picked up my purse, and went to the bathroom. To my horror, in the fluorescent light I could see that my eyes had dark circles under them and my face was white and drawn. I called Ruprecht and applied some more make-up while I was waiting for him to answer. Perhaps he was watching another allegedly uplifting film, or doing something just as fun such as reading the original text of Aristotle’s Metaphysics in ancient Greek.
I was about to hang up when he answered. “Amelia! I’ve translated the text. I know what you’ve summoned.”
“What?” I shrieked, just as a woman entered the bathroom and fixed me with a withering look.
“I’ll explain the Latin in detail later, but it appears to be a word that indicates you’ve summoned an entity and given it rather a large measure of free will at the same time.” Ruprecht went on to explain similarities between Latin words, and how a scribe could have made a mistake while copying it, while I tried to gather my patience.
“But have I summoned an evil entity?” I asked him when he stopped to draw breath.
There was silence for a moment, and I pictured Ruprecht shaking his head. Finally he spoke. “I don’t think so. Put it this way, I have no idea, but it isn’t specifically evil.”
“Does that mean it didn’t kill Scott Plank?” I asked expectantly.
Ruprecht dashed my hopes. “I’m afraid to say, Amelia, that it means nothing of the sort. We need to find out more about this entity. I assume you haven’t seen it since it appeared at the police station?”
“No, I haven’t. Do you think he’s gone back to where he came from?”
Again, there was a moment
before Ruprecht spoke. “No, I don’t think so. We’ll need to find a way to send him back. I’m sure he won’t go until we do something to make him go. I think we need to treat this as a priority, in case he did have something to do with the unfortunate man’s murder. Amelia, you can come over now and collect the Book of Shadows if you like, or would you prefer to leave it with me so I can study it further?”
“I’d rather leave it with you, Ruprecht,” I said. “As far as I could see, most of those spells were in Latin or some other strange language. I certainly wouldn’t have a hope of understanding them. I just wish there was something I could do.”
“We’ll just have to assume that there was human involvement in that man’s demise,” Ruprecht said. “But meanwhile, we need to investigate further. I think we might have been distracted by the entity. We can’t forget the fact that a man was murdered in your store, and I hope someone wasn’t trying to set you up to take the blame.”
I leaned against the countertop. That hadn’t occurred to me. Before I could say as much, Ruprecht pressed on. “I don’t want to alarm you at all, but why would anyone choose to murder somebody in your store? Now, I know it’s happened before, but the police are fully aware you had nothing to do with that, and that murderer is currently in prison. It just doesn’t make sense to me. If I can turn my attention to the Book of Shadows, perhaps you, Camino, Thyme, and my granddaughter, Mint, can look into the matter of Scott Plank’s death. From a distance, I mean,” he added sternly. “Research on the internet, that type of thing.”
I agreed and then hurried back to my table.
“We still haven’t had dinner, Amelia,” Alder said as soon as I sat down.
I clutched my knees to stop them knocking together under the table. “No,” I simply said.
Alder frowned. “Would you like to have dinner at my place tomorrow night? I’ll cook, and then after dinner we can look through my family’s collection of old books. Perhaps we can turn up something on the entity there.”
I managed to murmur my agreement. Alder was devilishly handsome, dark, and mysterious. Was he seriously interested in me, Amelia Spelled? It all seemed too good to be true.