To Speak of Things Unseen (Hemstreet Witches Book 2)

by Rain Trueax

  Torre giggled. “Maybe he’s a little old man, and it would ruin the mystique of the book.”

  “Mom said she’s seen him. He’s tall, but she said little beyond that. The way he looked toward the camera, half crouched, it was as though he was being stalked and didn’t like it. Whoever shot the photo only got two images, and at such a distance, they wasted their film.”

  “The tabloid didn’t think so.”

  “He writes a bestseller and avoids everyone. It makes him of interest, I guess.”

  “I have a feeling he’s about to be stalked again.”

  “For a good reason though, not just idle curiosity.” She wasn’t about to add that the one she wanted to stalk was Adolfo Lupan. She finished off her coffee. “I guess we should open up. I’ll think about it. Tonight, I meet with David Jefferies at the theater. I’ll see what he thinks about a play before I go further pursuing it.”

  “Why don’t you head for the winery? I mean it’s got Verde Valley addresses for its vineyard, wine tasting, and purchasing wines. Maybe he’s up there now. I mean as hot as Tucson is, who wouldn’t be, if they had someplace cooler.”

  She considered that. “It’s possible I could go there. I need to talk to David about the idea first. Maybe he won’t go for it. I help support the productions, but there are no strings attached. The next play is scheduled for October, and he may already be set on it.”

  “You sound like you are having second thoughts.”

  “No.” She went to the door and unlocked it for any customers brave enough to go through the demonstration—although she imagined the heat would not have the protestors there much longer.

  “You think we should close until September?” she asked Torre. They certainly didn’t get many customers in the heat, and the monsoons, if they ever arrived, would lead to flooding and even less customer interest in buying clothes.

  “If you are open to remodeling.”

  “Do we have the money?” Their original idea was that the shop would pay for any improvements.

  “For what I had in mind. Not big things but better flow. Sure.”

  “We could also work more for Mom in the detective agency.”

  Torre laughed. “True. While people lose interest in buying nice clothing during the hottest days, the crime rate often goes up with the temperature.”

  “Then we are agreed.”

  “And it’s not about escaping the witch burners.”

  “Maybe some. I’d like to know what led them to us. Who could be spreading the word? It is not as though we advertise witchcraft for sale.” She gave a little laugh.

  “You think a play that is about the supernatural world will help or make it worse?” Torre gave her one of the looks only she could produce.

  Actually, Elke had no idea, but she felt something had to happen. She heard the first crack of thunder from south of Tucson. “Guess that will disperse our protestors,” she said with a grin as the sky darkened.

  “Not if they have faith.” Torre giggled.

  Walking into the restored building, converted into a small theater and meeting rooms, Elke saw David Jefferies, Pamela Crosby, and two women she didn’t recognize sitting at a table on the stage. “You’re late,” he said as he rose and gave her a hug.

  “I’m sorry. Torre and I got involved in planning the changes we want to make in Mellow Yellow, and I lost track of time.”

  “Nothing major I hope,” Pam said dusting Elke’s cheek with a brushed kiss before sitting back down. “I love your choices as they are.” Considering she did costuming, Elke appreciated the compliment.

  David introduced Elke to Debbie Johnson and Colette Ames. “Colette has been in several local productions. Debbie hasn’t had any big roles but she seems promising. Chuck was supposed to be here tonight. Not sure what happened to that.” Debbie, pretty, blonde and bubbly, was the age to play ingénues while Colette looked a little older than Elke.

  “Chuck?”

  “Charles Carter. He’s been a leading man in several local productions. I had hoped to interest him in our little theater.”

  “And you succeeded,” a tall, rather handsome man, in a sort of bland way, came into the auditorium. As soon as he got to the table, she knew he’d been drinking and not just a little. He looked over at Elke. “Wow, is this beautiful, long drink of water your new actress. If so, I’m in.”

  While Pam chuckled, the younger actress’ disdain for Elke showed on her face. Although Elke had learned to control invading people’s thoughts, this didn’t take magick to see.

  “I’m one of the backers,” Elke said with a polite but cool smile. “And interested tonight in what is being planned for fall productions.” She looked back at David. “Do you already have something firm for October?”

  “Actually I had several plays I was considering depending on the casting call.”

  “Are you open to something unique?” She wouldn’t try to force it based on her donations, even though she knew they helped keep the theater afloat.

  “Like what?” David asked.

  Chuck settled into one of the chairs not taking his eyes off Elke.

  “Have you read Vislogus?” David shook his head.

  “I have,” Pam said. “I loved it.”

  “Me too,” Colette said. “Wow, that Adolfo. What a hero.”

  “I like playing heroes,” Chuck offered. “I might be interested with the right heroine.” He raised his brows suggestively at Elke.

  She looked back at David thinking if Chuck got out of line, he might be learning a few lessons he hadn’t counted on. Being well-trained in martial arts, she wouldn’t even need a plasma bolt to do it.

  “Vislogus is about using magick to combat evil. The hero is a loner for the most and almost a sacrificial figure, who finds most don’t understand him.”

  “Magick?” David said with some skepticism in his voice. “How would that work into small theater? Sounds more like a film with special effects.”

  “It’s the dialogue that would work. It would not require the whole book but several of the chapters are conversational involving the question of using magick. It is the conflict between the hero and the woman he wishes loved him-- but she doesn’t. I suppose there is a little of Superman in it, but the dialogue is witty, fast moving and delves into the meaning of life.”

  “Just two characters?” Colette asked.

  “In the book, but it could easily be worked into more for a play—maybe a friend of one of them or even a competitor for the woman’s love.”

  “It’s deep?” David asked.

  “Not too deep to be confusing but yes.”

  “And it’s a best seller? That’s not the usual for Americans.”

  “Well I suppose the rest of it-- the action is why it’s found such favor. The thing though is part of it could be a very thoughtful play with the way it pulls the reader and would a viewer into the questions of life. When Adolfo is threatened, it’s mostly because of what he is doing for those who don’t understand what he stands for.”

  “Avengers style?” Chuck asked slurring the words a little. “I could get into this.”

  Debbie glared at him. Elke wondered if the two had something going. It seemed obvious that at least Debbie wanted there to be. Perhaps she’d been misled, as Elke had no sense that Chuck was the loyal type.

  “Do you have a copy of the play?” David asked sounding a little more interested.

  “Not yet. That is the problem at this point. I could get the play written rapidly because it would practically write itself. I need though to get the author’s permission.”

  David let out a breath. “Who is it?”

  “Mitchell Ford. Do you know him?”

  “I have heard the name. I am trying to think of why.”

  “He owns the winery Vislogus in Verde Valley if that helps.”

  “I know that wine,” Chuck said with a grin. “Good wine.”

  David smiled. “Let’s talk about this, after we break for the night.�
�� He went through a few of the problems in the theater, discussed when they’d have to have a firm play and finally suggested they meet again August 4th.

  When it was just the two of them, he asked, “Is Chuck going to be a problem?”

  “Can you count on him in a production? He was pretty well soused tonight.”

  “I’ll decide when we meet again. Maybe it was a onetime thing. He was pretty attracted to you. I hope he won’t give you a bad time.”

  She smiled. “Don’t worry about that.”

  “Back to the question of Ford-- my brother, Bill, had a gathering last winter for those who support Fishing for Loaves. Are you familiar with it?”

  “I’ve heard of it but haven’t been involved. I think Mom has been though.”

  “Well, the gathering was put together by Bill for those who donate to it and for its founder, John Donovan, to explain the work, how the money is being used to not only help with sustenance but also to get people jobs and off the street. Mitchell Ford was there. I had nearly forgotten about it. He didn’t say much. If I remember right, my brother is his lawyer.”

  “Was Martin there?” she asked remembering that David and Bill’s brother had his own ministry.

  “No.”

  His answer was clipped. She understood families could be that way. “I want to meet Mitchell Ford and discuss using part of his book. I’ve had a hard time getting an address.”

  “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see if Bill can set something up.”

  “If he can’t, and I have tried before, think you could get me his address. I know he lives at least some of the year in Tucson.”

  “I’ll let you know tomorrow. Okay?”

  “I’d appreciate it. And if you can’t, don’t worry. This is not connected to the support I have for Stage Left. I will get hold of this guy. If not for an October play, perhaps later.”

  “I’d have to read the play and know it fit our themes here.”

  “Give his book a try first.” She smiled.

  Out on the street, she was almost to her sedan when a figure loomed from the shadow. She wasn’t surprised that it was Chuck Carter. “You are really beautiful,” he said as he reached for her.

  “Nice men don’t touch without asking,” she said using a quick movement of knee and hand to throw him off balance and onto his back. He lay looking up at her.

  “That wasn’t nice,” he said again slurring his words.

  “It gets less nice-- if you touch me again.”

  She got into her car and drove off hoping she’d seen the last of him. She definitely didn’t want him playing Adolfo. The book didn’t really describe him, but he was a powerful man, in control of himself in all ways, with what sounded like a rugged countenance. Definitely not the soft Chuck Carter.

  In the morning, Elke sipped coffee on her balcony as she considered plans for her day. The remodeling wouldn’t start for a few weeks, and Torre would manage that with only the request that Elke stay out of it. It was already too hot for a run. The storm clouds had again built and moved on past Tucson, but she saw the potential for an afternoon storm to the south. They needed the rain. She relished the idea of a powerful lightning storm.

  When her cell phone rang, she saw it was David. “Good morning,” she said.

  “I talked to Bill, and he won’t give me the address.”

  “Thanks for trying.”

  “I though can tell you this much-- if you are familiar with going out Skyline and beyond the Ventana Canyon trail, there is a big home on the hill overlooking the next draw.”

  She had hiked that trail in the spring. “I remember that.”

  “The house is up a long driveway and the gate has a wolf on it.” She could hear the smile in David’s voice.

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it and believe me, don’t mention it.”

  She laughed.

  “I like the idea of the play. I got hold of the book and read half the night. I saw what you were talking about. It’d be exciting and maybe give people some ideas about life not being quite so simple as some believe.”

  She wondered, not for the first time, if he knew she was a witch. Despite street talk, the Hemstreets had tried not to get publicity for what they did. Their detective agency was run mostly as one. It didn’t require magick—even if sometimes that made it easier.

  “I won’t let anyone know how I got there,” she said.

  “He might have guard dogs. A lot of people up there have security systems; so if you get arrested…”

  “I know. I didn’t hear of it from you. I got it from the street.” She laughed.

  “Exactly.”

  Putting away the phone, she thought about how to approach this stranger. Doubtless, he had experience with stalkers considering the fame of his book. She didn’t want to end up arrested for trespassing. This would take some thought.

  By late morning, Elke had created a short outline of her proposal, written two pages of a possible play based on the section she wanted to use. In the folder, she included a pamphlet on Stage Left, what it accomplished and its purpose.

  Even though it was going to be a scorcher, she dressed in a white cotton suit with a sleeveless, turquoise, silk blouse to look as professional as possible. She would convince him that he could help others by allowing it to reach new people. She slipped on white sandals, grabbed her bag and headed down the stairs.

  “Hello again, beautiful,” Chuck Carter said leaning against her car and watching her as she walked to it.

  “You are in my way,” she said.

  “I wanted to apologize.”

  “Of course, you do. Thanks. Now be gone. I am busy.”

  “How about dinner?”

  “Listen and get it straight. I want nothing to do with you on a social level.”

  He let out a breath. “And you’ll block me from being in that little play of yours?”

  “I don’t have a play yet, but no, that choice would be the director’s, not mine. When we have a script, he can figure that out.”

  He moved away from the car. “Sorry I tried to grab you last night. I was drunk.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Anyway… have a nice day.”

  “Thank you.” She got in her car and drove off, noting in her rearview mirror that he hadn’t moved. She hoped he’d not try to get into her apartment. She had it protected with an earth ward, but she was beginning to lose some faith in her ability to cast wards. Hers seemed more effective against spirits than humans. She needed to practice. She thrust him from her mind. A minor annoyance. She would stay focused.

  Driving north, she practiced what she would say to Mr. Ford. She hoped she’d get a chance to say something. In her mirrors, she saw the darkness of an approaching storm. Not the greatest day to attempt a meeting, when she might have to walk from a locked gate to the house. From what she recalled of its location, it was set in a forest of saguaros, with no neighbors. He was right under the ridge. She wasn’t sure, but it could be as far as a quarter of a mile on a winding drive. She should have worn her running shoes and shorts.

  Turning off Sunrise, she turned twice more before she saw the described gate and a curving drive. Beyond, she could only see the upper levels of the house. It looked Moroccan and sat nicely in the huge natural, stone pillars surrounding it—perfect for a recluse.

  The wind picked up as she parked. On one of the tall brick posts, there was an intercom. Nothing ventured nothing gained. Far to the south, she heard a crash of thunder. In an hour or less, the storm would be on her. She’d have little time to convince Mr. Ford of the benefit of letting her come up. The wind whipped her hair when she got out of the car and picked up the receiver.

  In a moment, she heard a female voice answer. “May I help you?”

  “I would like to talk to Mr. Ford.”

  There was a silence. “Did you have an appointment?”

  “I have a proposal.” She saw that there was a camera, which meant whomever
she was talking to was most likely observing her—luckily she hadn’t worn a full skirt or they’d be getting quite an eyeful. “I think he’ll find it of interest.”

  “I doubt that,” a deep male voice said.

  Chapter Four

  Being a typical male, shapeshifting notwithstanding, Mitch had to admire the beauty standing at his gate. Still, he wasn’t buying.

  “I have a portfolio to show Mr. Ford,” she said, her voice a little husky, just the tone he liked in a woman. From what he could tell of her figure under the light suit jacket, the rest of her was too.

  “You a reporter?” he asked realizing he was tempted.

  “Definitely not. I understand Mr. Ford wants privacy. This is a proposal that I would like him to consider.”

  Something about her seemed familiar. He wondered if he’d met her before. Curiosity killed the cat but… Knowing he’d regret it, he pushed the gate opener. “Drive around to the side of the house, turn it around, and aim your car downhill since it looks like we’re in for a blow.” He liked her smile and that walk as she returned to her Mercedes and got in. Nice, he thought.

  “Thought you said no,” Adolph said with a wolfish smirk.

  “Man can change his mind.” He gave a little laugh. He hadn’t had a woman in a long time. He didn’t count the months or years, but it had been too long. Of course, he was sure the proposal this woman had for him wouldn’t change that. Why did she seem familiar?

  In moments, she had parked the car and found her way to the door that Buck opened for her. “Are you Mr. Ford?” she asked pushing hair out of her eyes.

  “No, he’s not.” Mitch stood at the top of the stairs. “Come on up to the living room, and let’s hear this proposal.”

  He saw the shock in her eyes. He came as a surprise to most people with his large size, muscular build, which with t-shirt and shorts was more obvious than he might’ve chosen when meeting someone who looked like the woman walking up the stairs. She was a lady, that much was evident. Long, dark hair waved past her shoulders.