“Umm…my question exactly,” Willow said, reflecting Tori’s finger pointing back at her friend.
Tori worked her lips back and forth before answering. Beneath an overcast moisture-laden sky, they stood staring at each other in the parking lot behind their three-story building. After landing at Portland International Airport and an awkward and tense goodbye to Leif, Tori hopped in a cab and texted Willow to tell her she was back. Willow answered with a text saying she was still at her parents’ house. About an hour later, here they both stood.
Tori watched the taxicab disappear down the alley. She lifted a brow at her friend.
“I was still at my parents’ house when I messaged you,” Willow defended herself without Tori having to say it aloud. “Okay, I was pulling out of the driveway. Or, I was already on the highway. I don’t remember now.”
“So you were basically on your way here,” Tori recapped.
Willow held her overnight bag in one hand and had Skyler’s unicorn backpack slung over a shoulder. “Sort of. Not really. Well, kinda.”
Tori peered in the car windows at Igor’s crate. “Where’s Skyler?” She adjusted her luggage so she would only have to make one trip upstairs and then started for the door.
Willow fell into step by her side. “With her father. When you sent me the text, I was just getting ready to leave Mom’s to drop Sky off. After I left Skyler with her dad, I figured you’d come here, so I drove over as well.”
“I thought we agreed to stay away until we decided on a better plan to deal with Gerard. Did you tell your dad about my problem?”
Since Willow had a free hand, she opened the door. Tori dragged the suitcase, purse, and incidentals bag with her. She should learn how to travel lighter, she thought as she lugged the heavy load toward the elevator. She knew the chastising thoughts wouldn’t change anything. Tori liked clothes and shoes too much, and looking good was a woman’s prerogative after all.
“Goodness, no. Are you kidding me? He’d have a militia standing guard twenty-four seven if he suspected an ounce of trouble.”
“Right. What was I thinking?” Tori asked. “Good ol’ daddy-o would make the situation even more unbearable than it already is.”
“Yes, he would. Besides, I’ve got my own backup. Gerard would have to be a total dipshit to mess with us again.”
They stepped into the elevator and Willow punched the button. Tori appreciated Willow’s use of the word “us” when this was just her problem. Maybe Gerard had learned his lesson. She hoped so, but then again, you couldn’t count on a psycho to get a clue, even when he was shot.
“Well, he is a dipshit, so we can’t bank on that reasoning. And, by backup, you mean Mr. Smith and Wesson?” Tori asked. She’d already noticed Willow wearing the shoulder holster with her handgun.
“His name is Gaston Glock, thank you very much.” Willow set her bag down on the floor of the elevator. She reached around her back and pulled out a tiny gun. “This is Little Bull. I brought him home from Mom’s for you.” Willow handed the pistol over to Tori.
Tori leaned away from the offered weapon. “I can’t shoot that thing.” She refused to take it. “I’d end up killing myself on accident.”
“I knew you’d say something like that. I can take the bullets out if that makes you feel better.”
“No. It would be pointless then.”
“And, I knew you would say that too.” Willow made the gun disappear back into the holster on her lower back. She adjusted her shirt to hide the gun. The elevator door slid open, and they hauled their bags into the hallway. “I brought you this instead. It’s more your speed.” Willow bent down and fished under her pant leg. She stood back up holding a leather sheath on a strap with a silver knife handle sticking out of the top.
“You’ve been thinking about Gerard more than I have apparently.”
“Yeah, well, the apple doesn’t fall that far from the tree. And Gerard, the asshat loser needs to be taught a lesson on how not to treat women.”
“Definitely agree with you… all of it, including the apple.” They shared a smile of camaraderie as Tori took the knife. “It’s infused with a spell. I feel its power. What’d you do?”
“Pull it out,” Willow instructed.
Tori and Willow abandoned their bags for the moment. Tori slid the silver knife out of the sheath and held it up. The knife had a will of its own and guided her hand in the direction of her loft.
“It’s already working.” Willow pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and peered at the knife blade with inquisitive owlish eyes.
“It wants me to go that way.” Tori stepped in the direction of her loft door.
“It doesn’t want you to go that way. The knife points toward danger.”
Tori gasped and stepped back. “You made me a safety gauge?”
“It’s a weapon too. Awesome, right? It points in the direction of danger aimed specifically at you. If you actually cut someone, they’ll be scarred for life. The scar will burn every time the jerk thinks nasty thoughts about you. Well, that’s how it’s supposed to work. Oh, and the silver hums if danger is close by. That way, you can hear as well as feel it pointing.”
“That’s way cool, Willow. This is the best gift ever.” She squeezed the handle tighter, appreciating the incredible thoughtfulness of the present. The knife guided her hand toward her front door down the hall. Goose bumps rose on her arms. Tori lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “Not sure I’m ready to use it right now.”
Willow pulled out Gaston. “Look,” she whispered, and pointed at something Tori hadn’t spotted until now.
They inched down the hallway, Tori holding the knife in front of her and Willow aiming the gun. The knife started buzzing.
“What is that?” Tori’s hand began to shake.
Willow moved a half step in front of her. Something hung from her doorknob, a cream-colored bag that blended well with the paint, which is why she didn't notice it at first. The knife began to make a sound like ringing, but in a low pitch.
“Goddess watch over us,” Willow prayed.
As they moved in closer, they saw what looked like quills and feathers sticking out from loosely woven fabric. The tip of the knife blade felt suddenly like a lead weight. It pointed with dead still aim at the bag. Tori held her breath and felt Willow doing the same. The fabric wiggled. Willow placed a halting hand on Tori’s arm.
“Let’s—” she started to say, just as Willow said, “We shouldn’t be here.”
The contents of the bag began to squirm. They retreated, but it was too late. The wriggling turned to writhing and before they could spin all the way around and make a run for it, the bag burst. What emerged appeared to be something akin to large moths with a mouthful of oversized fangs.
Tori screamed as she bolted down the hallway toward the stairwell door. She was a natural runner, whereas Willow not so much. She clung to her friend’s arm to make sure she didn’t fall behind.
“What the hell are those?!” Willow shrieked.
Tori glanced over her shoulder, and a handful of the creatures were mere inches from her head, and they had grown in size. Where they had been a creamy white color at first, they were transforming into winged and feathered black monsters. Their faces resembled moths, but their bodies were more birdlike, and their wings were somewhere between that of a moth and a bat. Their mouths hung open, and they had multiple rows of pointed teeth. Tori panicked, dropped Willow’s arm and swung her knife. The tip of the blade caught the drooling creature by the nostril. She jabbed and swung sending the thing into the wall. It screeched in protest, hit the wall with a thunk, and fell to the floor. The dozen other angry monstrosities let out ear-piercing wails and flapped harder.
“Porta patefacio!” Willow yelled. The door to the stairwell slammed open.
They hurled themselves in, and Tori used physical strength and her magic to throw the metal fire door closed. One of the winged creatures caught between the door and the frame, but the fo
rce of will from Tori’s magic and the weight of the door crushed it instantly. The carcass oozed, wings twitching. Tori winced, but she sealed the door with some quick magic and used a spell strong enough to hold a demon at bay, let alone crazy wicked moths.
After making sure nothing would get through the door ever again, they dashed down the stairs. Wings slapping against the metal and the scraping and clicking of those small pointed teeth echoed after them. Her skin crawled with terror. “You know it’s getting real around here when Willow whips out the Latin,” she said.
“The dipshit has a spectacular calling card,” Willow said.
They shared another look and left the building.
Chapter Thirteen
TORI AND WILLOW brooded over coffee for the next hour in an impenetrable room at The Magic Bean. Willow needed to catch up on everything concerning the trip to the Ukraine. Tori supplied most of the details, only leaving out the explicit parts of her night with Leif.
Gerard’s welcome home present worried Willow more than Tori’s dilemma with Leif and Delana’s passing. Willow was raised in a military family and had three brothers and a father who loved nothing more than to plot and fight battles, imaginary or real. Her knowledge of self-defense and military tactics had her scheming and Tori didn’t try to stop her. She also couldn’t visualize half of what Willow suggested. Each lost in a different plan of defense against Gerard, Tori finally agreed at Willow’s insistence to tell Leif about what waited for her when she arrived home.
“Leif said he’d be in touch with me after getting an update about Gerard from Breck.”
“And Breck’s his detective buddy at the Police Bureau?” Willow asked.
“Yes.”
“Call him right now,” Willow said.
Tori shook her head.
After leaving their building, Willow wanted to go straight to the cops, but Tori didn’t want to. After what she learned from Weston, she had too many details to sort out in her mind. Answering questions from the police would force her to lie. She didn’t want to lie, but explaining herself without the use of words like, “magic spells, healing potions, transitioning after death,” weren’t going to go over well with someone like Breck Hollingsworth, a non-magical human. She might end up in jail or be subjected to a psych evaluation.
“I’ll tell him in person after we leave here. I need to consult an astrological calendar before I can tell him the rest. I hate feeling rushed. Leif has no way of understanding how our society works and he lost trust in me. I need to do this right and with a clear head, or I’m going to jail.”
“You’re not going to jail. Stop thinking like that. You didn't do anything wrong. And the calendar will help you narrow down your plans. I like what you came up with. I’m confident it’ll work, and everyone will be happy again.”
“Godess, I’m glad to hear you say that. You should have seen how disappointed he was with me when I refused to tell him anything Weston said. I crushed him.”
“I’m sure he’s fine. He is a grown up. And when he figures out what you did, he’ll forgive you.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Tori said. “And we better get going. We’ll run next door to the Luna and Lights Bookstore and use their calendar. Then I’ll go speak with Leif.”
“And I’ll go back to my mom and dad’s and devise the ultimate payback for vulture boy.”
“Did I ever tell you, you’re the best friend a girl can have?” Tori asked.
“No, but I knew it already.”
* * * *
Leif’s office manager, Cora, greeted Tori warmly, but when she stepped into his office and closed the door, the cold, distant reserve in his eyes chilled her instantly.
“Breck would like for you to make an official statement at the police station as soon as it’s convenient for you.”
“Can you tell him I’m rather inconvenienced for about one more week?”
His shoulders looked as stiff as the rest of his demeanor. “I gave you the benefit of the doubt for longer than I should have. Detective Hollingsworth would appreciate an answer from you sooner than that.”
Tori brushed her forehead, covering most of her face from Leif. She expected a little friction from Leif when they met again. His professional demeanor with no hint of kindness was beyond comprehension.
“Leif, I—” She tried to reach him with her voice, but she wasn’t entirely sure how to do it. She wouldn’t keep apologizing. Mistakes were made. She didn’t regret sleeping with him. Their attraction was undeniable. She needed to stay on track and get to the point of her visit, which wasn’t about Delana and Weston. According to Willow, it was important to have a record of Gerard’s latest attack. Leif knew the situation and could help. She didn’t get a chance to explain her presence at his office because he forged ahead and threw her off balance.
“I’ve been looking up your history and certain items came to my attention that can’t be ignored.”
“What are you talking about now?” Tori wanted to roll her eyes, but the grim set to Leif’s jaw kept her wary enough to not dismiss whatever currently floundered about inside his thick skull.
“I’m an investigator. Your mystical background isn’t natural to me. I have to look at the facts as I see them.”
“And?” She hated how her voice rose with the emotion simmering and coming to a boil deep inside her.
“And, your inheritance from Delana isn’t the first time you came into a large sum of money at someone’s demise. After Grant English’s boat capsized you became a extremely wealthy teenager.”
Tori’s gaze slid to the middle distance for a beat. She snapped back to reality in the next second and met Leif’s penetrating gaze. He saw her hesitate, the asshole. He saw everything. The clarity he perceived while observing the world around him unnerved her. Few people in her experience were as grounded and solidified in this three-dimensional universe as Leif Andersen.
Like a statue, Tori solidified a perfect mask of indifference. She lifted her chin a fraction of an inch and took three steps across the room to stand before Leif and the accusing yet non-accusing expression on his face.
She cocked an eyebrow in answering defiance and then swung. There may or may not have been a little magical influence in the speed and force of her slap. Tori was fairly certain Cora heard the slap of her palm across Leif’s cheek as a clatter of noise came from the outer office followed by an, “Oh dear. What have I done?”
Tori tuned out Cora and focused all of her attention on Leif. He didn’t react to being slapped the way she thought he would. Not that she expected anything really. She only reacted to the fire in her soul. The simmer had instantly exploded and caused her a new sense of calm she had never experienced before. Time stopped as pure unadulterated focus had her reacting to his speculations. She raised her hand to hit him again. Tori needed Leif to be on the receiving end of her fury.
He caught her wrist in mid-air. The bulge of his jaw muscles gave her only the slightest hint of satisfaction. The blossoming red welt in the shape of her hand on his face increased her pleasure.
“If you ever—”
“What?” she dared, spitting the question back in his face.
“Strike me in the face again,” he said through clenched teeth.
She interrupted. “If you ever insult my family again, you can look forward to a lot worse fates.”
His grip on her wrist ached, but she refused to let his strength intimidate her.
“I can make your balls shrivel up and fall off, you son-of-a-bitch!” How dare he bring up her father and imply she murdered him for money!
Even as his pelvis shrunk away from her, his eyes sparkled—daring, challenging, taunting.
Goddesses, curse him! His accusation wasn’t funny, and she meant what she said. Well, she could hit with her left as well as her right. Leif anticipated her move because she barely moved an inch and he had her by both wrists.
“Let go of me or regret it for the rest of your natural born life, and maybe
into your next one too!”
Leif took a deep breath. “I’m not that stupid. If I let you go, you’ll turn on me.”
“Damn right I will.”
“Those claws you call fingernails aren’t in the best interest of my eyes.”
She narrowed her gaze to dangerous slits. “This is ridiculous.” The steam in her fight continued to build even as it should be evaporating by this point. She jerked her hand, but his hold was unrelenting.
“I’ve obviously struck a chord. Why exactly is it that all the men in your family history die of unusual circumstances?”
“Screw you!”
“We can do that after you answer the question.”
Every imaginable curse and possible poison scrolled through her mind as she stared into his unbelievably exotic eyes. Those lashes should be illegal, and lagoon green irises just don’t exist in real life. Maybe he was part extraterrestrial… that would explain a lot about him. She dropped her gaze.
“You’re the investigator. Figure it out for yourself.”
“Oh, I will. Don’t you worry. It would be easier if you told me in person.”
“More like you wanted to see my reaction when you accused me of murder.”
“You need to tell me why your car was at South Bank Park and why you disguised yourself when you visited the location of Delana’s death. You have a lot of explaining to do.” He paused and then added, “Look at me, Tori.”
She thought about kneeing him in the boys and then stomping on his instep. Cursing him wasn’t her style, but if he didn’t let her go in the next few seconds, she would hex him right there in his office with Cora only a few meters away. Karma and consequences of using magic in front of witnesses be damned.
Tori refused to meet his eyes. They had an infuriating effect on her of softening the resolve to murder him, and she wasn’t willing to let it go yet. Tori murmured levitation charms under her breath. Leif’s framed certificates and investigator’s license quaked. One picture frame flew from the wall spinning like a Frisbee and aimed straight for his head. He ducked in time to save himself and Tori found herself free from his imprisonment.
A Witch's Fate: Witches of Lane County Page 15