Waking with a start, Tori glanced at her clock and groaned. She had three back-to-back clients, and the first would arrive at her office downstairs in twenty minutes. Tori scrambled to find the necessary implements needed for the day. Her favorite wand burnt in the fire along with a few treasured crystals, and her anointing oils. She made due without or borrowed what she needed from Willow. The sessions definitely weren’t her best, but her clients paid and scheduled their next visits with her office manager and best friend, Willow. At least no one left that day dissatisfied.
Five hours later, Tori wore a groove across her living room floor as she paced and worried. Since Weston refused to answer the phone, she took matters into her own hands on a more magical level. The weight of forestalling bad news sat heavy on her shoulders, but Tori continued her quest for answers about Delana and Weston’s deaths. The car wasn’t in the garage. Were they still alive? She questioned herself as she trudged upstairs to her bedroom and stood before the six-by-four-foot framed painting.
The original watercolor was painted by her mother and portrayed the unforgiving Pacific Ocean beneath a glowing pastel sky. Her father’s boat pointed toward the docks and made Tori think he was headed home. She imagined her mother painted her father’s boat facing that direction on purpose, as they both wanted him to return home more than anything else in the world. The rocky Oregon coastline met hills of green and the three-story house she grew up in overlooked the sea. The house, of course, was the Morgan family home, and therefore the home of the witches of Lane County for over a century and a half. When Tori moved out, she took the painting with her. It was one of the only things she wanted from the house. Her mother, Ivy Morgan, had given it to her without hesitation. Now the oversized painting hung like a mural on the wall of Tori’s upstairs bedroom in the loft apartment. The scene kept her connected to her family, but the magic infused into the painting kept her private sanctuary safe.
“Open up. I need in,” she said with an impatient wave of her hand.
The frame around the painting glowed with luminous silver and gold light. The effect caused the lights inside the house to appear as if they turned on. The waves churned, and her father’s boat bobbed and swayed in the watercolor world.
“Today!” When the painting didn’t obey her will fast enough, she added, “Please.”
Her commands weren’t fancy, but they worked. The archaic had never been her style. Yes, she could have sealed the spells on her mother’s painting with frilly words and showy charms, but she didn’t see the point. The painting needed only her voice to command it. When she designed the magic spell, “Open up,” worked just as well and was a lot easier to remember than some complicated poetic verse. She loved this aspect of being a witch in the modern age—keep it simple. Life was already complicated enough. And she liked how her way of doing things was so completely opposite of her mother’s. Ivy would be appalled at Tori’s simplicity, especially since the painting guarded her most valuable magical implements and irreplaceables.
The painting swung open, and she slipped inside. “Close and lock,” she ordered as the secret chamber lit up with her arrival. Candles came to life and her lamps adjusted their light to fit her mood, which was somber, dark, and full of turmoil. Tori went straight to the fireplace. She cupped her hands, and blew softly, curling her tongue, so her breath swirled into a ball. She tossed the heated breath into the fireplace where it transformed into a live fire. From her desk, she picked up the hand mirror and went back to the fireplace. She slid the suede ottoman across the floor and sat down on it with her back to the fire.
The ornate gilded hand mirror belonged to her great-aunt Trillium, and that was exactly who she needed now. Tori held the mirror up and gazed at the reflection of the fire. The mirror became a portal to the spirit world. By reflecting the element that most resonated with Tori’s earthbound spirit, she was able to call upon the spirits almost instantly. And today of all days, she wanted answers. If Delana had crossed over the night before, her aunties would tell her.
“Aunt Trill?” Tori waited. The reflection of the fire turned a nice shade of tanzanite blue. The voices came through first, but it wasn’t Aunt Trill’s melodious sound.
“Aunt Del?” she said. Trillium’s sister appeared in the mirror. The sisters were ancient and had lived full lives before crossing over. Aunt Delphinium was a doll, but she wasn’t always as reliable as Aunt Trillium.
“Hi, my glowing niece. It’s such a joy to see your lovely face. What brings you by for a visit?”
“Hi, Aunt Del.” Conversing with the spirits could be a tricky undertaking. Tori learned this the hard way. Which is why she called for Trill. Talking with Del always included the niceties and the expected social customs. “How are you?”
“Well now, you won’t believe it if I told you. Your aunties and cousins are a fine mess this side of life. The other day, we had quite the skirmish over the details of Aunt Pru’s death day events and—”
“Oh really!” Tori cut in. “I’m sort of on a time constraint here, Auntie Del. Can I please talk to Trillium? It’s about a close friend. I could really use some help.”
“Oh! Well, let me see if I can find her. Hold the line…” Her cracked and worn voice trailed off as Aunt Del faded from view.
Tori listened to the spirits on the other side, but it was only a murmur of mixed and muffled sounds. Then both Tril and Del’s faces appeared. Tori adjusted the mirror, so she wasn’t looking straight into Del’s nostril and Tril’s eye. Realizing the zoom effect wasn’t on her end, she promptly gave up that effort. “Back up a smidge, would you? Your faces are a little close on this side.”
“Oh right. Sorry, dearie,” Aunt Trill apologized and the scooted back. “You’re a sight.” She smiled, and the happiness beamed through the portal, surrounding Tori with warmth. “What can I do for you? Del says you’re in need of the aunties.”
“Ah… thanks.” Tori tried to smile, but the worry and grief of the past twelve hours took hold and brought tears to her eyes. “Can you please tell me if Delana Smootz has entered the spirit realm? I’m sorry to barge in and ask, but it’s important. Anything you can find out would be helpful.”
“And you need this information now?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Of course I don’t mind. It is a blessing to be needed. The Summerland is joyous, but having a task to complete is a treat. I’ll be right back,” she said and started to move away from Tori’s limited view.
“Aunt Trill? Wait.”
“Hmmm? Is there more?”
“Please can you check for Weston—” Tori cut herself off. She never knew Weston’s full name. “Weston. A companion of Delana’s.”
“That isn’t much to go on, I’m afraid. These are recent crossings, I assume?”
“Yes. Just yesterday. That is if they are with you on the other side.”
“This may take me a minute,” she sang and disappeared.
Aunt Del moved into full view. “Look at you,” she beamed. “I knew you would be calling soon, Tori Morgan. I had a strong vision of you just the other night.”
“What are you talking about, Aunt Del?” Sweat gathered at the nape of her neck and down her back. She didn’t think it was because of the fire burning either, especially since it was cold sweat. Aunt Del was adept at seeing the future.
“You’re going to meet someone. He’s handsome. Dark hair and penetrating eyes. I see very clearly why you are attracted to this man. He’s the one, Tori. I saw your future with him.”
“I don’t bloody well think so,” she said calmly even though her temper flared.
“Do not fear love, my dear. It is the greatest adventure of all.” Aunt Del leaned in close as if inspecting Tori for cracks in her resolve to avoid love at all costs.
“Not in this family.” Tori was incensed. “Aunt Del, you’re not allowed to tell me things like this anymore. I’m never falling in love, okay? You know as well as I do that the Morgans are cursed. There
’s no point in falling in love unless you want your husband to die some untimely and horrible death—” She took a breath to continue her tirade, but her aunt interrupted.
“Ms. Tori Morgan. You cannot order me to stop telling people what I see. Why I oughta whip out my spell book and curse your insolent mouth. This man will bring you the kind of joy and happiness other people long for. Kill for. You should be grateful to have such a wonderful gift coming your way.”
Tori shrank away from the mirror and clamped her mouth shut. Gerard instantly came to mind. He was dark-haired and exotic. The intensity between them was definitely new. Compared to other men she dated, his attitude and mannerisms seemed almost foreign. He excited and intrigued her. But they had just recently met. Surely, he wasn’t “the one.” Aunt Del’s news disturbed her on many levels. Where should she even begin contemplating this troubling new vision? The past twenty-four hours had been tumultuous. Her emotions were on overdrive already. The last thing she needed was a vision of her future love life given to her by an over-optimistic dead ancestor. The aunts and everyone who knew her well knew she never let a relationship turn serious. Never.
“Sorry, Aunt Del. I shouldn’t have—”
Aunt Tril slid into view and spoke before Tori finished apologizing.
“Your dearest friend, Delana has crossed over. She is in transition, and many are waiting to reunite with her. You can reach her soon.”
Tori swallowed hard and shut her eyes against the harsh news. Not that she expected any other answer, but now at least it was confirmed. Willow informed her between clients that the news reports said Delana Smootz passed away in a house fire. In her opinion, the local news for the non-magical community couldn’t be trusted. Hearing the devastating truth was probably the reason she waited all day to contact Aunt Tril. “Weston?” she asked.
“He is not on this side,” Aunt Tril said. “But without his full birth name, I could be mistaken.”
Tori nodded. “Okay. Thank you. You’re the best.”
“There’s something else to say,” Trillium continued.
“Go on,” Tori said, eyebrows pinching with concern.
“Is this location familiar?” Trillium asked. “It is where Delana passed through the veil. It is a place of high power and easy access to the higher dimensions.”
Aunt Tril and Aunt Del’s faces faded from the mirror, and a landscape came into view. Tori covered her mouth and bit back a gasp. She studied the river, the city skyline on the far shore, and the bridge with passing traffic over the shoreline. Sometimes the truth slapped you fast and hard, a stinging unapologetic upset to life that changed everything in a heartbeat. This was one of those times.
“Yes, it’s near where I live. I have to run now, Aunties. I’ll talk to you soon,” she said and put the mirror face down on the ottoman. Tori tried to inhale deep breaths, but her chest held tight with anxiety. Delana hadn't burned in the house fire as the news reported, but why and how had she gotten to the shore at South Bank?
The answers she so desperately wanted only created a slew of new questions. Tori leaped from the cushion, put out the fire, and left her sanctuary. Finding Weston was at the top of her list, but she highly suspected he didn’t want to be found. Weston knew what happened to Delana, and she vowed to find him, but until then a visit to South Bank was in order.
* * * *
Three hours into the investigation, Leif decided that South Bank Park could very well be the strangest location in Portland. Afton typed as if he were on speed, his fingers tapping a non-stop tattoo on the keyboard as he created the case log.
Digital cameras and audio recorders continually recorded footage for viewing later when they could slow down the playback, zoom in, and study every second on a larger screen and with hi-def audio playback.
When they arrived at South Bank, they surveyed and video mapped the area beneath Harbor Bridge and the adjoining public park. Afton operated the full spectrum video camera, Leif used a digital recorder, and Akina took notes by hand. All three of them carried EMF meters that detected electromagnetic field fluctuations in all the same locations. The location of Delana’s final resting place spiked their meters and both Leif’s and Afton’s meters simultaneously stopped working. Akina’s registered frequencies higher than they’d ever seen. They set up the cameras and audio equipment and settled into the team vehicle to write up the initial reports and watch in real time for paranormal activity for the rest of the witching hours.
“Someone’s decided to join the party,” Leif said.
Akina lowered her tablet. She’d been researching the symbols on the ground where Delana had died. Afton glanced up from his screen. The three of them stared at the monitor displaying the view through camera two.
“What’s she doing?” Akina asked.
A thin woman of average height—not wanting to be seen based on the hat, glasses, and scarf she wore—ducked beneath the crime scene tape. She didn’t approach the exact location of where the body had been found but stayed in the shadows.
“Looks suspicious to me,” Afton noted.
“Could be,” Leif said. He wouldn’t assume anything at this point. Crime scene tape often brought out the natural curiosity in people. Yet, this woman’s attire garnered suspicion. Few people wore sunglasses in the middle of the night. Leif zoomed the camera in on her face even though the infrared night lenses would make a positive identification more difficult. If the need arose, he could give Breck the recording. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tail beneath her hat. Leif tried to memorize the cut of her cheekbones, the straight nose, and her full lips. He backed the image out for a wider angle and waited. The woman shrugged a day bag off her back and searched inside. The camera wasn’t close enough to view the contents, but she definitely held something in her hands. She replaced the bag over her shoulder and raised her hands in front of her.
“Look at that!” Afton pointed at the image from camera one.
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell.”
“Zoom in,” Akina said.
Leif glanced over for a brief second, but he didn’t want to take his eyes off the woman for too long.
“Looks like…” Afton squinted at the screen. “Flowers?”
“But they weren’t there a second ago,” Akina said.
The bouquet of flowers rested exactly on the spot where Delana’s body was found dead.
“No, they weren’t,” Afton said. “Weird. Did our guest do it?”
“She didn’t move from her spot,” Leif said. “I’ve been watching.”
“Maybe it was him,” Akina said, leaning in close to Leif for a better view of the screen. She pointed past the woman.
“Damn. Where did he come from?” Afton asked.
A man stood concealed by the bushes behind the crime scene tape and the mystery woman.
“He looks like an apparition,” Akina said. “Pale face and the black clothes. I know he’s just a guy, but he's creepy as hell. Maybe we should put this on our YouTube Channel and title it, Specter Caught on Tape. It’d bring in a ton of views.”
“You can’t make up fake ghosts, and post them on the internet, Akina. No matter how creepy they are,” Afton complained.
“It’d be great for business,” she said.
“We don’t need any more business,” Leif chimed in. “We definitely don’t need any hoaxes with our name attached.”
“You guys are no fun. So, did he sneak up and leave flowers? Because if he did, he knew the deceased and we probably have a witness standing right there.”
“I would have spotted someone walking up and putting flowers on the ground,” Leif said.
“Me too,” Afton said. “I’ve been watching camera one since she appeared.”
“I think you’re right. He may be an eyewitness. If he crosses the tape, I’m going to go make my presence known.”
She nodded, and they waited in silent anticipation. The woman shifted positions and stepped into the street light,
what little there was of it. Lights on the bridge over her head filtered down to the park below, but it was dim. Leif watched the man practically disappear into the bushes. But he’d already zoomed in on his face and had a clear image of him recorded. The woman moved farther from the crime scene.
“She's leaving. I’m going to go get some shots of both of them if I can. I’ll take the radio, but it will be on mute. I’ll only call if I need backup.” Leif climbed out of the Chevy Tahoe as silently as possible with a camera in hand. He made his way down the street toward the bridge over South Bank Park. He stayed in the shadows of parked vehicles and trees and kept his eyes peeled for the woman or the man. He never saw her again, but he took a picture of the man climbing into his car and another of the license plate. He took pictures of the license plates on the other vehicles parked in the vicinity with the vague hope of learning the identity of the mystery woman.
Akina and Afton would be thrilled with the paranormal activity results from the park, and Leif felt a fair amount of satisfaction for having something concrete to report back to Breck.
Chapter Four
GETTING INTO CLUB Wicca was an entirely new experience for Leif. Not only did he have to use a fake ID, but he also suspected the doorman of attempting to read his mind. He knew cameras were trained on him. Leif had nothing to hide but thought cops and investigators weren’t the most welcome guests at the exclusive and alternative nightclub. He did his best to not wear his skepticism and criticism as a badge as he waited for approval to enter, but it was difficult to suppress. Witches, vampires, shapeshifters, and the whole paranormal atmosphere smelled of pathetic jackasses.
He strode into the club behind Akina’s cousin, Truly. The girl professed to loving the nightclub and its dark atmosphere. Truly’s peculiar leanings toward the freakish and her familiarity with some of the patrons was probably the only reason Leif could enter through Club Wicca’s front door.
A Witch's Fate: Witches of Lane County Page 3