by Dima Zales
“My name is Claire, and I can try, Daniel. How long do I have?”
“She was murdered just before midnight, on All Hallows’ Eve.”
Claire swallowed, fear creeping in.
Halloween was tomorrow.
5
Daniel agreed to meet them at The Wiche’s Broom, a name he recognized from his nightly wanderings of Santa Luna.
Once the two women left him, he allowed himself to fade, his strength all but depleted. He seldom manifested completely, preferring near invisibility to hysterical screaming. The modern world had forgotten how thin the wall between life and death could be, that the spirits of those they loved, and hated, were close, often watching them for years before they finally lost the will to hold on to this world and faded away.
Juliet kept him here; her agony tied him as securely as physical ropes, and he would not leave her until she was free. He owed her that much, when he had not been there to protect her.
The image of her filled his mind, as it had every night since his death, wrapping around his heart, torturing him. Clear blue eyes that had been able to look straight into his soul, a heart-shaped face, dark brown curls, their silky feel against his fingers as clear as if he had touched them yesterday. Her smile, her warm laugh, the scent of lavender that had always clung to her soft skin—every detail drove into him, left him aching and laid bare.
“Forgive me, my love,” he whispered, his voice quieter than the fog sliding over the damp grass. “I will find a way to free you this time, even if I must sacrifice myself and the witch to do so.”
6
“You can’t trust him, Claire.” Annie paced the front of the narrow store, her hands still shaking. Good God—she’d talked to a ghost. It took the drive back here to get the rest of her to stop shaking. “Even if he didn’t kill his fiancée, he’ll do anything to free her.”
“I am aware, Annie.” Claire sorted through a box on the counter, looking far too calm. “I plan to help him do so.”
“How?”
With a sigh, Claire looked at her. “I don’t know.” She pushed some of the red brown hair off her cheek, as damp as Annie’s from the fog that had cloaked the cemetery by the time they left. Annie’s curls had become an uncontrollable mess. “But I have a couple sources I want to check. I’ve never dealt with a ghost before.”
“Could have fooled me.”
Claire’s smile helped calm the last of her nerves. “I looked up our Daniel Sutherland before we left. My takeaway was that he would respect confidence, so that is what I gave him.”
“You weren’t scared?”
“Terrified, actually. Especially when he became as substantial as any living man.”
“What the hell? I didn’t even know ghosts could do that.”
“We can if we have been here for a good length of time.” Daniel appeared next to the door, and Annie cursed as she tripped to avoid running into him. Or through him this time. He was more transparent than visible. “I did not mean to startle you. There are few ways I can appear and not have that effect.”
“We should have expected you, Daniel, since I asked you to meet us here.” Claire waved Annie over to the counter, and pulled what looked like a thousand year old book out of the box. “Ah. I was hoping I still had this.” She opened the book, and Annie swore moths fell out of it. Claire swiped the counter before she could be sure. “It’s my mentor’s grimoire.”
“Grimoire—you mean, like a spell book.” Annie rubbed her arms, staring at the book. “Aren’t those for black magic?”
“Many witches keep grimoires.” Claire looked at her, amusement in her silver blue eyes. “My mentor was Wicca, Annie. No black magic allowed.”
“Okay.” She wanted to crumple in relief, but she figured that would be rude. “You’re looking through it tonight?”
“I wanted to make certain I still had it. Most of the spells in here are those I use frequently, so I haven’t had need of the book for dec—years.” She avoided looking at Daniel or Annie, and carefully closed the grimoire. “I was afraid I might have lost it when I moved here.” She picked up the book and walked around the counter. “Why don’t you go home, get some sleep? We can meet early tomorrow, and look through the grimoire when we’re fresh.”
Annie raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to look at it as soon as I leave, aren’t you?”
Guilt flashed across Claire’s face. “You’re exhausted—”
“And younger than you. I’ll go hit Billie’s Pub for a late dinner and her strongest coffee. You do drink coffee?”
“I do. Annie—”
“No argument. We’re in this together, Claire.”
“I was going to say thank you.”
“Oh.”
“I will phone ahead and order dinner. My treat, Annie, since I will be the one keeping you up late. Steak dinner?”
“Yeah.” She moved to the door while Claire punched in Billie’s number and looked up at Daniel. “You’re not going to be jealous or anything, watching us eat?”
“I have forgotten the taste of food, Annie Sullivan.” A smile flashed across his face. “But thank you, for your concern.”
“You really stayed here, all this time, for Juliet?”
He swallowed, and Annie saw the helpless grief. She recognized it, knew her own intimately.
“I love her,” he whispered. “I have always loved her, more than life.”
Annie tilted her head, studying him. “You said love, present tense.”
“Do you not still love your parents, even though they are gone?”
“What?” She felt the color drain out of her face, and she flinched away from him. “How do you—”
“I was there, when you said goodbye to them. Your grief drew me, so raw, so deep. I am sorry for your loss.”
She looked at him, tears filling her eyes. “Thank you.”
Claire’s voice pulled her out of the moment. “It will be ready by the time you get there… Annie?”
She met Claire’s worried gaze. “I’m okay. Daniel and I are just—bonding.” She stopped at the door, and met Claire’s eyes. “I’m glad I walked into your store today.”
“So am I, Annie.”
She unlocked the door and stepped outside, knowing that no matter what happened, she would never regret stepping through this door.
Daniel’s presence turned out to be more useful than Claire had expected. Not only was he able to decipher Meredith’s appalling handwriting, he was able to fill in blanks—and point out mistakes.
“This,” he said, his finger hovering over another list. “Working through this list will only waste your time. It was a fad, more than a hundred years ago—”
“Thank you. I’ll cross it off.” Claire tried to hide her shock at his knowledge. Every time he found something else in the grimoire, he was closer to pinpointing a truth she could not allow to be revealed.
When Annie yawned for the third time in ten minutes, Claire decided to trust her enough to move the party to her house. She was less certain of Daniel, but she knew they couldn’t do this without his input. As long as she kept him occupied, and steered him away from information that would reveal too much, she could get through this. After tomorrow night—now tonight, since it was long past midnight—she would no longer need to worry about him.
She cleared her throat. “I live at the end of the alley, just off the parking lot behind the shop. Let’s continue this there.”
“Convenient.” Annie covered her mouth when she yawned again. “Sorry.”
“Perhaps you should—”
“If the rest of that sentence is sending me home, you can stop there. I’m in this all the way, Claire. I just need more coffee.”
“We can make some at my house.”
“Best invitation I’ve had in a long time. And don’t question that, either of you.”
Daniel snorted, and Claire bit back a smile. “I wouldn’t think of it.”
Annie raised an eyebrow when she looked at
Daniel, and he raised both hands.
“I am a gentleman first, Annie Sullivan.”
“Right. Lead the way, Claire.”
She led them through the shop and into the back room, not missing the huge yawn Annie tried to hide. Once they reached her house, she would switch the coffee for decaf, or tea, then find a way to get Annie to sleep for a bit. Claire didn’t need much sleep, and she was determined to find the spell she was certain lay inside the grimoire.
Her mentor, Meredith, had been a bit of a fanatic about the spirit world, and everything that interested her was recorded in this grimoire. Daniel could shorten the search by discounting what he knew didn’t work.
It was a short walk down the back alley to her small house. Annie nearly bumped into her when she halted at the bottom of the back porch.
“Oops. Sorry.” Annie gave her a tired grin. “Not paying attention.”
“Why don’t you rest for a bit, while Daniel and I attempt to read more of Meredith’s indecipherable handwriting.”
“Meredith. Sounds so—ordinary.”
“She was a housewife, and a kitchen witch, and had a deep belief in the power that only women carry. I learned so much from her.” Claire swallowed, climbing the two steps to her back door. The grief of Meredith’s death still tugged at her, even after all this time.
“When did she die?”
“Before I moved here.” It was mostly true. She led Annie into the house, and down the hall that led to the bedrooms. “I have a spare room, and the bed is already made up. I’ll wake you if I find anything.”
“I wanted to—ˮ Another yawn interrupted her. “I guess I’ll be useless if I can’t even keep my eyes open.”
“Yes, you will.”
Annie let out a tired laugh, then shocked Claire by wrapping one arm around her shoulders and hugging her. “Point me to that bed, so I can fall face first. Keep him out here.”
Daniel leaned against the wall at the end of the corridor, both eyebrows raised. “Your privacy is assured, Annie Sullivan.”
Once Annie was undressed enough to be comfortable, falling asleep before Claire finished closing the door, Claire grabbed the grimoire off the small table by the back door and headed for the living room. She checked all the blinds, pulled the curtains across for good measure. She did not want to explain any strange light to a night owl who happened to pass by.
“Stay out of the way, Daniel.” She opened the book and set it on the coffee table. “All right, Meredith. Show me those spirit spells you were always so fond of writing.”
She raised both hands, and let familiar power flow through her. White-gold light spread between her hands, over the grimoire, and she focused, forming a silent request before she sent her power into the ragged pages.
The light pulsed, but the pages lay still, unmoving. Claire was about to retreat and try a different method when the first page flipped over. A moment later they started turning, back and forth, so fast the air around her churned, lifting her hair off her shoulders. She was half afraid the grimoire would tear itself apart before finding what she sought.
It flew straight up, spinning around as the pages flipped, furiously now. Claire stood, ready to withdraw the spell, when the grimoire slapped the coffee table, the pages finally settling. She lowered herself to the floor and bent over the page.
“To Break the Loop of a Suffering Spirit, in the Case of Murder or Mysterious Death. Oh, Meredith,” she whispered. “I knew you would come through for me.”
“May I approach now?”
She looked up, smiling at Daniel’s frustrated voice. “Please. I think I won the jackpot.”
“You have impressive skills, witch, for one so young.”
“I’m a fast learner.” She slid the book across the coffee table, needing to distract him from his current train of thought. “Come and tell me what you think of this.”
They read the information, which covered at least thirty pages. Daniel stopped at several places and pointed out small inconsistencies, spells Meredith claimed would work that were no longer effective. By the time they finished, Claire sat back, her hands shaking when she understood what she would need to do. What she couldn’t possibly do.
“Claire?” Annie’s scratchy voice had her standing.
“You should be asleep.”
“I’m good. Are you okay?” She moved forward, took Claire’s hand. “You look like you just got a death sentence. What—is it the spell?”
“Not the spell.” Claire cleared her throat, forced herself to meet Annie’s eyes. “What the caster needs to do. I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t do what is asked in the spell.”
“You’re not the only one here.”
“No.” She pulled free of Annie’s grip and backed away. “You will not—I can’t ask you to be part of this, now that I know what is demanded.”
“Tell me, Claire, before you dismiss me and whatever raw talent I have.”
There was more than even Annie suspected. Claire swallowed, staring at the open pages. “The caster must bare their soul to Heaven, to prove they are worthy to speak for the tortured ghost. I can’t do this.”
“Then I’ll do it. Don’t let no be the next word out of your mouth.” She looked over at Daniel, still kneeling next to the coffee table. “I have to help him, Claire. I have to. He carries the same grief, and I’ve only dealt with it for three months. He’s carried his for almost two centuries. I can’t even imagine how that feels, and I can’t walk away without at least trying to help.” Tears edged her voice by the time she finished.
Claire took her hands. “What you want to do is admirable, and I understand your reason. I want you to read the information first, before you make a decision. I will accept whatever you want to do—after you understand just what you are agreeing to do.”
“Okay.”
Claire led her to the coffee table, turned to the first page of the passage, and moved away while Annie bent her head and read the mixture of Meredith’s neatest writing, and Claire’s quickly scribbled notes. Daniel stepped away, giving her room.
She headed for the kitchen, and filled the electric kettle, plugging it in. A quick rummage through her refrigerator told her she needed to do some serious grocery shopping soon, but she scrounged enough cheese and fruit for a snack. After adding some crackers, she set everything on a tray and carried it to the living room. Annie was still absorbed in the grimoire, a frown creasing her forehead. Claire left the tray on the end of the coffee table and went back for the hot water and tea bags.
By the time she returned to the living room, Annie was waiting, her face pale. “I don’t know if I can do this—God, Claire, what kind of masochist wrote this spell?”
“There is a reason Meredith buried the spell. She knew it would take desperation, or a deep need to help, for a witch to even attempt it.”
Daniel moved away from the wall near the door, his voice quiet. “Annie Sullivan, I will understand if you cannot—ˮ
“Part of me wants to run away and pretend I never met you, Daniel Sutherland. The other part knows I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did. I don’t know if I’m strong enough—ˮ
“You are.” Claire held out her hand, and pulled Annie to the sofa. “You are untrained, but your power lights you up, Annie. With some training, you will be a force that would make most of the witches I know think twice before crossing you.”
“Whoa. I never—I mean, I knew I was different, and I researched the weird things I could do, even as a little girl. But I didn’t think I’d ever be more than average.”
“Trust me, even untrained, your power is not average.”
“So, I can help them? Free Juliet?”
Claire sighed, and scrubbed at her face, exhaustion pressing down on her. “We can try.” She glanced over at Daniel. “It won’t be easy, and I fear that we may do more than free Juliet, if we aren’t prepared.”
Annie frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The spell releases all
from their bonds. Including her murderer.”
“Damn. Is there a spell in there to send his ass to Hell?”
Laughter burst out of Claire. She shook her head and squeezed Annie’s hand. “There probably is, and we will have to be ready for the backlash of a vengeful spirit. Whoever murdered Juliet will not be happy to lose their hold on her.”
“So we make sure he or she are on their way downstairs before they can do the whole vengeful thing.”
“Exactly. But before we set out to vanquish evil spirits, we are both going to get some sleep, and start fresh in the morning. Unless you have obligations.”
“I’m on leave from my job at the yoga studio, so count me in.” She stood and stretched, tall, vibrant, too young for the weight Claire saw on her heart. “See you in the morning.”
She walked out of the living room, leaving Claire alone with Daniel.
“Daniel, I don’t want you near the mansion until just before Juliet’s murder. We need time to prepare—”
“The bruise I gave you is gone.” She reached up to touch her cheek. “I remember you, Claire Wiche.” His words stilled her. “Though you wore another face, and another name.” He appeared in front of her, anger and fear in his dark blue eyes. “Who are you?”
“Someone who can help you find peace. That’s all I can give you, Daniel. Please don’t ask for any more, or this ends now.”
After long, tense moments, he nodded. “I will leave you to your secrets, Claire. But if Juliet dies again, we will have words—and I will have your secrets.”
He disappeared, and she could tell that he was gone this time, only the cold air that wrapped around her as proof that he had been here. She moved to the sofa and sat before her knees gave out.
For the first time in decades, she was going to touch the veil, on the one night when both the living and the dead could pass through it.