They remained silent for many heartbeats. Why had the magic moved over Delana’s head? Tori couldn’t answer her own question. The steps they’d taken in preparation for the night’s ritual filtered like a review panel through her busy mind. Tori couldn’t pick out any part of the alterations in the spell that included mental health. But, there were extra ingredients Delana wanted to try and perhaps that was all the change the spell needed for the odd behavior at the end of the ceremony. She would make a note of the change in her grimoire when she returned home.
“Was there anything you forgot to tell me about tonight’s ceremony, sweets?” she asked Delana, careful to keep her voice light and inquiring.
Delana’s eyes were closed, her breathing steady and deep.
“No, my dear. Everything went exactly as I needed it to.”
“But the closing—”
“Felt absolutely wonderful,” she interrupted.
“Your head? Why did the spell circle you that way?”
“Shh… Let me rest for a minute before we clean up.”
Tori pressed her lips together and gave Delana the needed moment to let the magic settle.
“Did you hear something?” Delana asked. Her eyes opened, and she held her breath, concentrating on the surrounding silence of the two-story Victorian home.
A slight vibration rattled through the old house. “The garage door?” Tori asked.
“Weston,” Delana said. “He’ll be returning to his apartment.”
“But he never comes home on Monday night,” Tori said, already reaching for Delana to help her off the table.
“It is unusual. I don’t think he will come inside the house, but let’s play it safe and clean up now.”
Tori helped Delana into her chair and then opened the power circle surrounding the table and altar. Delana used the joystick on the electric wheelchair to exit the circle. Once safely across the room, Tori began a hasty onslaught to clean up and clear out. Candles extinguished, the chandelier brightened, and all potion ingredients, bottles, wood boxes, silver trays, herb garland, crystals, and stones levitated into the air and disappeared into the safe and Tori’s travel bag. The clinking and clattering overshadowed any noises coming from the direction of the garage, but the tidying up finished in minutes and Weston had not walked in.
“It’s a mess for next week, but at least it’s put away,” she said with a smile at Delana. She pointed a finger at the row of windows on the west side of the room and gestured for them to open. Airing out the space was a good idea, even if Delana suffered a moment of cold. The three a.m. chill of the spring air caressed her bare arms and brought the fine hairs to stand at attention. The smell of rain and forsythia blooms mingled with the darker scents of smoke and resin. Tori inhaled deeply.
Her client’s face registered she heard, but a distracted air clouded Delana’s normally vibrant eyes. Tori once again thought about the unusual way the spell behaved just before the session ended.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“Better than ever,” Delana said, sounding tired and not at all herself.
The door to the kitchen moaned. They hesitated, waiting to see if Weston would make an appearance in the hallway. They heard a faint whistle and knew it was the driver. He often whistled tunes under his breath.
“What’s he doing here at this hour?” Tori asked, perplexed. Weston never interrupted her time with Delana.
“I’m sure it’s nothing, my dear. But, I’ll go say hello. Why don’t you run home now? Weston can help me to bed.” She wheeled her chair into the entry hall, all but dismissing Tori. Something else that had never happened before.
“I always help you after our appointments. You have paint all over your body, Delana. Do you want him to see the sacred symbols?”
“It’s no matter. If he notices, I’ll tell him you were trying something new.”
The chair spun ninety degrees, and Delana faked a smile at Tori. “Come here.”
Tori stepped forward and took Delana’s outstretched hand.
“Go home and get some rest. You look positively wrung out. Weston is a dear. You can stay with me next week. Now say goodnight, and I’ll see you again.” Delana pulled Tori in close and planted a kiss on each cheek. She held her longer than a normal goodbye hug and gave Tori a blessing. “May the Goddess protect you and bring you harmony always.”
To say the action caught her by surprise would be putting it mildly. The last ten minutes were so odd and out of the ordinary that Tori was unsure how to respond. She returned a kiss on Delana’s cheek, mumbled something about seeing her next week and left through the front door.
Chapter Two
“DID YOU SEE the news about Delana Smootz?”
“I read the headlines this morning.” Paranormal investigator, and former cop, Leif Andersen leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. The expression on Breck's rugged face suggested he had more to share about last night’s tragedy, which claimed the life of the former Hollywood film star turned internationally renowned humanitarian.
“Did you see how she died?”
“House fire.”
“There’s more.”
“If there weren't, you wouldn’t be here.” He raised an inquisitive brow and waited.
Breck took the seat opposite Leif and crossed an ankle over his leg. “It wasn’t her body they found inside the house.” He didn’t go on, and Leif knew his friend gave him a moment to let it sink in.
He and Breck attended the police academy together. After completing his training, Leif moved a few counties over and began a career working for the Three Falls Sheriff's Department. The plan to live in a rural community and serve and protect fell apart after only twenty-two months. Leif was forced to quit and leave his adopted town when poor choices, a lying ex-girlfriend, corruption, and small town politics spit him out like a bad piece of meat. Leif moved back to the city and began working for his Uncle Oliver. It didn’t take long before his uncle handed over his private investigating firm to Leif. A couple months later, his uncle bugged out and retired in Hawaii. Never in his life would he have guessed that his career would lead him to investigate the strange, unusual, and weird cases often categorized as supernatural or unexplainable. While Leif had been busy working toward his goals, then picking up the pieces of his shattered dreams and rebuilding his life, Breck had been establishing himself as an officer with the Portland Police Bureau. Since they met, their friendship had developed into a partnership where they relied on each other’s knowledge and connections in their respective fields. If Leif could have divined the future, he would have applied at the Portland PB alongside Breck, but he didn’t believe in foretelling the future, and his fate in law enforcement was sealed. No matter what Akina, a member of his paranormal investigative team, said, their relationship was not a bromance.
“So, whose body was it?”
“We’re waiting on the medical examiner. The damage was extensive.”
“Charcoal and a few teeth?” he presumed.
“Plus a few bone fragments.”
“How can you say it wasn’t Delana then?”
“Because they found her body under Harbor Bridge at South Bank Park. The press doesn’t know yet. We want to keep it that way.”
Leif leaned forward resting his arms on the desk in front of him, fingers drumming. “Let me guess. There are signs of foul play. And that foul play includes some type of demonic hocus pocus?”
“Which is why I’m here, harassing you,” Breck concluded.
Leif took a breath and glanced out the window. The Oregon sky never failed to produce clouds this time of year. The gray overcast blanketing the city yielded a measly drizzle that was so insubstantial it couldn’t be considered a real rain.
“You and the team can sniff out a hoax better than anyone. What do you say? You up for it?”
“How soon do you need us out there?”
“Tonight. The team is finishing up now. I’ll have pictur
es and reports later today. You head out there and tell me what you find. Then we’ll figure out what the hell happened to Mrs. Smootz. This case already gives me the heebie-jeebies, and we’ve just started. Something tells me this one is different.”
“Different how?”
“She had strange markings all over her body and a few cuts that were too clean to call an accident. I’ve never seen anything like it. I had a bad feeling on the scene this morning, and that never happens to me. I swear every hair on my body was standing on end. I don’t understand how you handle all the woo-woo supernatural stuff day in and day out. Seriously, those freaks creep me out.”
“Those freaks are mostly scam artists. I haven’t met a single one of those weirdoes I couldn’t prove was a complete fake.”
“Another reason you’re the best at what you do.”
Leif’s jaw hardened, and he shook his head. “Don’t butter me up. I’ll be there tonight. Even if Cora starts moaning about upsetting our schedule.”
Leif watched humor flash through Breck’s sapphire blue eyes at the mention of Cora. When it came to details, meticulous record keeping, and schedules, Cora was a managerial whiz. You could also describe her as a whip-wielding menopausal tyrant if you changed the schedule without first receiving her approval. Suffice it to say, Leif might be the driving force behind Multnomah County Investigations, but Cora held the reins, and she’d done so since the day his uncle hired her.
“Where is that woman anyway? I didn’t see her when I came in.”
“We had a late night last night. She stayed up to wait on our return from the Hamilton Cove haunting case. I’m sure she’ll be in later. Cora may be in her sixties, but she can pull an all-nighter like the rest of us. Don’t you dare tell her I told you how old she is,” Leif warned, looking suddenly worried about his verbal slip-up. Cora could be a little touchy about her age.
A smile broke over Breck’s generous mouth. A matching grin spread across Leif’s.
“I never heard a thing about Cora’s age.” Breck’s smile quirked up on one side. “That is unless I need a little blackmail incentive in our future negotiations.”
“Like I don’t have an entire file on you at my disposal,” Leif said.
Breck gave a little snort. “I suppose we’re even,” he conceded with good humor. A beat of silence stilled the air between them, and the mood shifted back to work mode. “Listen, an anonymous tip came in this morning. That’s the only reason we found Delana. Whatever happened under Harbor Bridge, it looks weird. Weird enough to come knocking on your door. Once the photos are uploaded and cataloged, I’ll show you everything we found. Right now, the fire ring, candles, blood, and all the symbols on her body reek of paranormal foul play.” He raised his hands in supplication. “Out of my wheelhouse. I need you to explain to me what it all means.”
“Symbols?” Leif asked. “Akina should be able to help there.”
“I thought of her too. And you’re going to sniff out the perp.”
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. The worst of these perps are mental cases who need to be put away in a safe place, but most of them are delusional assholes who watch too many horror flicks. I’ll find your guy, and you’ll nail him.”
Breck hefted his tall frame from the chair and took a deep breath. “God, I hate these high-profile cases.”
“I hear ya’. My team and I will keep quiet about Mrs. Smootz.”
“You will, but it’s all the damn camera phones and everyone else I’m worried about.”
“Yep,” Leif agreed. It seemed hardly anything was left to private investigating these days. Everyone and their mother carried a camera in their pocket. Fortunately, Leif relied on a lot more than just video and audio to solve his cases.
Breck stood in the open doorway.
Leif rose from his chair to walk his best friend out of the office.
“No need to get up,” Breck said, waving a dismissive hand.
Leif nodded. “Send me everything you’ve got as soon as possible. I want to see the pictures before we get there tonight.”
“Will do. Thanks, Leif. Keep me updated.”
“Will do.”
Leif listened to the outer door open and close. As he thought about the gruesome details of Delana’s demise and the mystery body inside the elderly woman’s torched home, a silver chill settled in the area near his liver. He sat back down and rolled his chair closer to his computer. Time for research. The nagging sensation to call Cora and tell her about tonight’s investigation niggled and prodded at him, but he didn’t want an earful just yet. The rest of his team needed an update, though, so he sent them a group text message. Akina and Afton were always anxious for a new case, and he counted them in before receiving their replies.
Chapter Three
TORI HAD TO find out the truth. Waiting wasn’t an option. She willed Weston to answer his phone. “Holy merciful universe, throw me a bone already!” The line rang into eternity. No voice mail prompt or computerized message announced the discontinuation of the number. “They can’t be dead,” she told herself.
After leaving Delana’s the night before, Tori pulled her sports coupe into the parking space behind her building and realized she left Delana’s house through the front door. It was yet another odd occurrence to add to the growing list. Tori always left through the kitchen door that led to the alley and private parking behind the house.
Since the day they met, Delana insisted on keeping her private life private. Delana’s insistence on secrecy wasn’t so much eccentricity, although the woman certainly had enough of that, as it was practicality. She was the head of a worldwide organization that provided housing and adoption services for children across the globe. Delana’s discovery of a small percentage of magical blood running through her veins led her to Tori’s doorstep. Tori had been more than willing to assist Delana in developing any natural talents for the craft. Delana didn’t want the world to find out about her interest and or abilities with Magic. Tori couldn’t blame her. The witch and wizard community remained invisible to most of the world, and for good reason. Entire wars were fought over religious differences. Her people, those with Magic in their blood, were grossly outnumbered by the non-magical population. They were, for the most part, a peaceful group and didn’t condone war. Centuries ago, the elders decided to go underground and stay there. Their plan succeeded. Witches and wizards stopped being persecuted—mostly—and lived among the rest of the population. Seekers of the truth easily found a witch when they wanted to. And of course, mixed blood babies were born reasonably often, creating people like Delana. She had enough Magic to sense she was “different” than the average person, but not enough to cause alarm. Since Delana was adopted as an infant, she was never informed of her magical heritage. Tori delighted in Delana’s enthusiasm about Magic, and they enjoyed their sessions together.
The thought that she would never see her friend again was incomprehensible. She searched her memory of last night but couldn’t recall walking to the back of the house or climbing inside her car. The twenty-minute drive to her loft was also a vague blur.
How exhausted had she been? Her week was busy with clients, and she stayed out too late at the club the night before. She and Delana worked extra hard on the new potion and spell, but she couldn’t be that blitzed out, could she? Before going upstairs to her loft, Tori leaned across the car to grab her travel bag from the space in front of the passenger seat, but of course, it wasn’t there. In her mind, she clearly saw it sitting on the high-backed chair in Delana’s parlor.
“Shit thistles,” she cursed.
Without further dissection of her temporary disassociation from reality, she turned the car back on and screeched out of the lot. Tori needed her bag, more specifically, the contents of the bag, for her clients the following day. But much more than that, she needed to set her mind at ease and check on Delana.
Tori knew it was tragic before she saw it. The devastating billowing black cloud plumed in
to the atmosphere directly above Delana’s house. Tori’s car jerked to a halt in the middle of the street. The elegant Victorian home raged with an ungodly thirst for flames. She threw the door open and jumped out, screaming for Delana. Tori ran to the side of the house, searching for her friend, calling out, and praying she made it outside. The intensity of the heat blasted her face and seared her eyes. She held up a hand to help shield the fire. No sign of a living person was to be found, except for a few neighbors standing on the opposite side of the street with phones in hand.
Born in alignment with the element of fire, Tori should have had more control of the ravaging flames, but she cast her magic with no effect. A slight shifting of flames was all she managed. The burning wouldn’t be tamped down. She called to the sky and willed the clouds to gather and release their moisture over Delana’s house, but the raindrops simply evaporated before doing any good. Sirens cried in the distance; the fire trucks were close. Not that they could do much now. The central part of the old wooden house was already destroyed beyond repair. Where were Delana and Weston?
Helpless and near to panic, a flash of psychic energy practically yanked Tori toward the garage. She ran down the hedgerow, keeping a bubble of protective magic around her. A gap between the hedge and the building allowed her to skim through the tight space and stay mostly protected from the heat. The roof of the garage facing the house blazed with licks of flame, but she had to see something. Moving as quickly as possible, she wiped the smudged glass of the window with her hand. It was darker than pitch inside. She sent a firefly spell into the garage, lighting it with a hundred tiny iridescent lights. The garage sat empty. The Town Car wasn’t inside the garage.
Sizzling sparks and bits of ash rained down on her. The hedge might catch on fire any second. Tori moved like the wind, slid into the seat of her car like an apparition, and left the burning house as if she was never there. She returned home and collapsed on her bed, managing to get a few hours of fitful sleep.
A Witch's Fate: Witches of Lane County Page 2