“Fine. We’ll go to my parents’. I can at least work from there, and Skyler can have some grandma time.”
“Great. I knew you’d make the right choice… given the proper motivation.”
Willow snatched the envelope off the counter and held it up between them. “This isn’t a bribe. It’s a well-deserved bonus. And I still have to contact all your clients. What do you want me to tell them?”
“That’s what I pay you for.” She winked and tried for a smile, but it was anything but joyful. “I need to pack. You do the same. Don’t worry about the clients until you’re somewhere safe, okay? If they can’t reschedule, I can take care of a few appointments by phone. Email me the phone schedule whenever you get to it.” Tori leaned in and hugged Willow. “I’ll be right back. We’ll leave the building together.”
She was out the door and back in her loft seconds later. Her entire body shivered when she glanced at her sofa. What could have happened to her was unimaginable. Panic-fueled thoughts of Gerard’s return had her filling her bags with anything and everything she needed for a few days. Where would she go? Like Willow, she could stay with her mother, but that wasn’t her first choice. Although it was probably the best one. Safely out of the way in Lane County, in a house full of powerful witches, Gerard wouldn't be able to reach her. He would be suicidal to follow her home.
Tori and Willow loaded their vehicles with enough luggage to sustain them for a millennium. They helped Skyler into the back seat of Willow’s car and handed over pillows, blankets, and her favorite stuffed unicorn. Igor was unhappily grumbling inside the pet carrier. They listened as he alternated between whining about his captivity and rattling the latches with his gigantic paws as he tried to escape.
“Has he ever opened the cage door?” Tori asked.
“Just once. Which is why we put an extra lock on it. I don’t like using the crate, but he’ll try to sleep on my head or get under my feet if he’s loose inside the car.”
“Right. I’m so glad I don’t have to take care of a pet. No offense.”
“None taken,” Willow said and closed the car doors.
They followed each other out of the parking lot and onto the highway keeping the phone line open between them.
“So, you’re headed up to your Mom’s?” Willow asked again for at least the third time.
“I guess,” Tori said. Willow’s exit to head east out of town was coming up soon. Tori would stay on the highway for five more miles before heading southwest.
“Ivy will be thrilled to see you. So will Aspen and your aunt Jet.”
“It’s the most logical place to go, but I hate this. I’m seriously considering the best way to take care of Gerard. And I can’t say anything else, or I would be incriminating myself.”
“Ha, ha. You’re hilarious,” Willow said. “I don’t think he’s following us now. Do you see any sign of him?”
“No, and I’ve been watching.” In the rearview mirror, Tori saw Willow’s blue cute-sized utility vehicle veer right to merge onto another highway. “Drive safe and text me when you get there. Or text me if anything weird happens.”
“I will,” Willow said. “You can always stay with me and my parents. I’m sure they’d love to see you.”
“No. I don’t think so. I don’t even want to intrude on my own family, let alone yours.”
“Well, if your mother is making you batty, just come over. And if Gerard shows up at my dad’s, he deserves what he gets.”
Tori laughed. Mr. Stravens was by far the most hardcore militant wizard Tori had ever met. He was a cliché in some ways and uniquely bizarre in others. Willow was right about Gerard deserving Mr. Stravens’s torture if he were stupid enough to trespass on the Stravenses’s property.
Chapter Nine
“GOT YOUR MESSAGE. What’s up?” Leif asked Breck.
As soon as his new phone was activated, he checked his voice mail and then dialed Breck right back.
“The bone fragments and teeth in Delana’s home were not human,” Breck said without pause.
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“It is. Weird as it gets, but at least we don’t have another murder investigation to add to this case.”
“Has her case been ruled a murder?” Leif asked.
“Not yet. Not enough evidence, but it hasn’t been eliminated either. I have questions for Mrs. Smootz’s driver. Her license plate was caught on the parking lot surveillance camera at South Bank Park. The timeframe would be right. She didn’t drive herself.”
Leif let Breck give him all the important info without interrupting. After reporting what he and his team found, he waited for a return call from Breck. The timing couldn’t be better since he was about to call him anyway with what he learned from Tori that morning.
“Weston Kalashnik is our guy. He’s been unreachable since hour one.” Breck paused.
“Why does Kalashnik sound familiar?”
“Because that was Mrs. Smootz’s birth name. She changed it to Delana Helene when she became a film actress. She became Smootz when she married in the nineteen-sixties.”
“Right,” Leif said. “Are they related?”
“We haven’t found an obvious connection between them. He entered the U.S. as a teenager and already had the name,” Breck said. “He came here from Columbia, but he only resided there for three years. Before that, he lived in the Ukraine. We believe he used a fake passport and is in the Ukraine now.”
“When will you be certain he’s left the country?”
“Anytime now. I’m waiting on the surveillance team to get back to me,” Breck said.
“I guess I should tell Cora she can stop searching for this guy,” Leif said in front of Cora’s desk.
Cora waved an acknowledging hand to signal she heard the important part of his conversation. He turned and re-entered his office.
“Yep. We know who he is, but that isn’t helping me a whole lot in finding him. Until the medical examiner’s report comes back, I don’t have much more to go on. I sent you the list of names and addresses for the license plate numbers you gave me. Look it over and tell me if anything stands out.”
Leif backtracked out his office in time to reach over and take the paper Cora held in her hand. He gave her a wink, and she grinned back at him. They were a well-oiled machine. Verbal communication not always necessary.
A name on the list jumped out at him immediately. One of the license plates belonged to Tori Morgan. He closed the door to his office. “You have the cause of the fire yet?” he asked as he continued to stare at her name.
“They’re fairly sure it was a candle. Arson hasn’t been eliminated, but candles are a common cause of accidental structural fires.”
“Yeah,” Leif agreed. “You didn’t say what kind of bone other than it wasn’t human.”
“In the Cervidae family,” Breck said.
“What’s that?” Leif asked.
“Like a deer or elk,” Breck said.
“Strange,” Leif thought aloud.
“Yes and no. Having taxidermy specimens isn’t that unusual.”
“True. Were there any antlers in the debris?” Leif asked.
“None were found, which makes us believe the skull and a few bones were left in the room where the fire started to distract us.”
“Exactly,” Leif said. “Did you bring Gerard Falke in for questioning yet? He showed up today again when I was doing some research on the paranormal side of Delana’s death.” He wanted to tell Tori the new information about Weston to gauge her reaction before passing anything on to Breck. More importantly, he wanted to find out why Tori’s car was near South Bank at the same time Gerard’s was.
“I went to his home address but haven’t been able to locate him. We’ll get an interview out of him soon, though. Anything new on your end?”
“I don’t like him. I think he’s dangerous. If you can hold him for anything, do it,” Leif suggested and felt right for saying it. The man wasn’t ri
ght in his head. Leif felt it in his gut.
“Gotcha. I’ll do a more thorough check on him. He’s another one with a foreign background. These checks take longer.”
“Let me know if you find anything. This guy needs a little pressure put on him.”
“Will do,” Breck said.
Leif’s phone beeped with a text alert. He checked and saw Tori’s name on the screen. “I’ll have an update soon from Akina about those symbols. So far, she says they’re archaic, but not associated with any recent news of a deviant nature. She’ll finish the report by tomorrow.”
“Sounds good,” Breck said. “Talk to you later.”
“Later,” Leif said and checked his text message.
* * * *
After hanging up with Willow, Tori noticed she needed to fuel up before leaving the city. She pulled into the first station she saw and filled the tank. Before leaving the gas station, she pulled to the side of the parking lot and sent a message to Leif, Something happened today. I need to leave town.
The phone in her hand rang before she had a chance to set it down and shift into gear.
“Hey there,” he said.
The sound of his voice warmed her and lifted the cold fog of apprehension. Tori hadn’t been aware of the disturbance in her energy field until it was suddenly much better.
“Hi Leif,” she said. Her response was so flat and without feeling that she grimaced. Her fog hadn't totally lifted after all. “New phone already?”
“Yeah. It’s supposed to ward off evil spirits and high-energy frequency surges.”
“Perfect.” Tori shut off the engine and settled back into the seat. With Leif on the line, she felt like she could take a minute and stop running.
“What’s with the text you sent? And why are you going out of town so suddenly? Should I be concerned?”
Tori chewed the inside of her lip before answering. “Gerard was back. It got ugly.” She stopped speaking and waited to see how Leif would respond.
“Are you hurt?”
“Not really. I just don’t want to be home right now. I’m headed to my mother’s in Lane County.”
Another moment of silent contemplation held the line. “I have news about Weston. Do you want to hear it?”
That perked her ears. She sat up in the seat. “I do. Did you find him already?”
“Where are you?”
“Sitting in my car at a gas station on the south side of town.” Tori concentrated on his voice while mentally racing through a hundred scenarios of her day and the previous days leading to her current circumstances. She didn’t want to leave town and hide out at her mother’s. She wanted to get back at Gerard for being a misogynistic prick, but she wanted to find Weston more.
“Do you want me to come meet you? I can be there right now,” he offered.
“What? You can teleport?” she asked.
“Is that actually possible?” He sounded serious.
Tori smiled. It was so easy to mess with non-magicals. “Maybe. I don’t give away secrets easily.”
“Hmmph.” Leif made a sound that was either disapproving or disbelieving, but probably both. “I meant, I can leave my office right now and meet up with you. I like talking in person when possible.”
“I agree. Stay there. I’ll come to you,” she said and hung up.
* * * *
“How many of those did you drink?”
“What? These?” Tori’s vision went in and out of focus as she peered at Leif through the tiny single shot bottle of gin. The green plastic didn’t enhance his appearance like she thought it might.
“No. Swallows of your dignity,” he said dryly, then amended. “Yes, those.”
“I’m not counting, to be quite honest. And, not enough because we’re still in the air.”
“What’s with you and flying anyway? Look at this plane. It doesn’t get better than this.”
“Private jet or not, we’re in the air. At like, thirty thousand feet. Oh, Goddess.” Panic shriveled the remains of her courage, and her blood pressure soared higher than the current cruising altitude. Tori pressed a hand to her chest as she reached for another bottle of gin. “The calming potion isn’t working like it should.”
“You took a potion and drank half a dozen shots of liquor?”
Every travel bottle she examined was empty. She dropped the last bottle back in the basket and sat back on the long couch inside the jet. “Maybe not. Yeah, probably.” Tori leaned to one side as she spoke until she was horizontal and staring across the tightly enclosed space at Leif.
“When?” he asked.
“After we went back to my place and I scryed Weston. Then we saw that he was in the Ukraine and we decided to take this awful trip to find him. I poured a bunch of the calming potion in my water and drank it. That was another mistake because my potions suck,” she complained. “This trip is a horrible mistake. I don’t need to talk to Weston anymore.” She was inebriated and embarrassing herself, and couldn’t stop. Tori closed her eyes and wished everything would come to an immediate halt.
The jet hit a pocket of turbulence and jolted upward and fell back down. She sprang up from the couch. “How did I let you talk me into this?”
“I’m fairly certain, this was your idea,” Leif said.
“But you agreed it was a good idea!” she accused.
“I didn’t understand how your ‘scrying’ worked, but for some reason, I’m willing to believe this could be the fastest way to get the answers we want.”
“I don’t want anything except a parachute!” Her eyes bulged, dangerously close to popping out of their sockets as she peered left then right inside the tiny cabin. Where are the blasted parachutes in this flying death machine? “We’re going to die!” She lurched toward the door. It was either the turbulence or her drunkenness but her legs wobbled, and she stumbled. Tori reached for anything to hang onto but the only surface available was the sidewall of the jet. The vibration of the engines traveled through her fingers and up her arm to her chest. She pulled her hand back as if the machine bit her. “This is the end. I never wanted to take flying lessons. I’m a witch who can’t fly, and it’s all my fault.” Tears filled her eyes, and she sank to the floor. “I’ve killed myself with stubbornness. My mother always said I’d regret not learning to fly.”
Warm hands and incredibly strong arms wrapped around her and lifted her off the floor of the plane.
“You’re not a very pretty drunk, Tori Morgan.”
Sobbing against his chest, she said, “I know.” She blubbered and cried harder as the insult sank in. “Did you really just say that out loud?”
His chest shook with a silent laugh.
“No. It’s all in your intoxicated imagination.” Leif lowered her down to the couch and kept her securely tucked in next to his side.
“I thought so because that was awfully blunt.”
“I’m never blunt,” he said flatly.
“Or sarcastic,” she added sarcastically.
She glanced at his face and his amused smile. The plane did a double lurch in the sky again. Tori gripped Leif’s shirt in her fists and buried her face against his chest.
“I don’t want to die. Delana died, but I don’t want to. I’m only in my twenties.” The level of her wretchedness sank to a new low.
“You tried to warn me you’re not a good flyer.”
“I did,” she sobbed. “I promised myself I would never fly again. Once was enough!”
“You said that too.”
“We should ask Peter the Pilot to go back. Weston doesn’t want to be interrogated. We saw him in the scrying bowl, but we should leave him alone.” Tori tried to talk Leif into turning back even though they’d both decided this trip would help solve the riddle of Delana’s mysterious death sooner than anything else.
The plane jumped again, and Tori’s stomach dropped. She threw a hand over her mouth as if she could hold back the alcohol and calming potion that threatened to resurface.
“Ar
e you going to be sick now?” he asked.
She shook her head, which made the nausea worse and refused to remove her hand. Leif slid away from her side, disappeared, and reappeared with a small plastic trashcan. He set it down by her feet and repositioned himself beside her. The plane rose and fell sporadically and caused Tori’s head to bob and sway. How much turbulence could one small jet withstand? With another stomach-dropping lurch, Tori swore the end was near. The terror stilled her pounding heart as she considered what death held in store for her. The lights inside the cabin flickered. The end was definitely near. She leaned forward over the trash bin and gripped Leif’s thigh for something—anything—to hold onto.
“Does your mood have any effect on the electronics of this plane?” he asked.
Her heart flip-flopped. “Oh, Goddess. Yes, it can! I’m going to kill you,” she realized. “And the pilot. And myself. We’re so dead because I hate flying!” The absurdity didn’t escape her, neither did the blubbering sound of her voice. Fear had control, and it needed to be curtailed, but she didn’t know how.
The lights went out, and the cabin went black save for the small emergency lights and the exit signs. She thought she heard an engine cough and sputter. Every ounce of blood in Tori’s body sank to the soles of her feet, leaving her hollow and empty inside.
Leif took her by the shoulders and leaned her back. He kept an arm securely wrapped around her. “You’re not dead. Try to settle down.”
Her body shook with fright. “This is the end. I’m sorry. I—” She stopped herself. How do you apologize for crashing a plane? “My dad will be happy to see me again,” she blurted.
“What?” Leif asked. His confusion was evident even though she couldn’t see his face in the semi-dark.
“He died years ago. It will be good to see him.”
“You’re talking about the afterlife now?”
“Yes.” Her voice shook with fright and emotion.
“I guess we’ll both have a family reunion then.”
“Why? Who are you meeting on the other side of this life?”
A Witch's Fate: Witches of Lane County Page 11