The Amulet of Caorunn (A Jinx Hamilton Mystery Book 7)

by Juliette Harper

  Tori and I both made periodic trips upstairs to see how the heat was doing. The furnace finally caught up about 8 o’clock that evening, which was the only invitation I needed to go upstairs and join my cats in their fur pile. Obligingly, they moved the group snooze to the bed once I pulled out an extra quilt.

  I fell asleep to the sound of their purring and thankfully had no dreams that night. Instead, I woke up the next day to the Southern version of a meteorological nightmare. Briar Hollow — indeed the whole state of North Carolina — had been plunged overnight into the grips of a freak winter storm.

  My first clue came when I woke up, stumbled into the kitchen for coffee, stopped, and went back out in the living room to verify that my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. A thick blanket of snow covered the courthouse square, and jagged icicles hung from the eaves of the buildings. The howling north wind periodically raised clouds of snow, and the sound of ice pellets beat a staccato rhythm on the roof.

  Shocked at what I was seeing, I reached for the remote in spite of the cats wrapping themselves around my ankles in outrage that their breakfast wasn’t being served. When the picture came on, the words, “Severe Winter Storm Warning” scrolled across the bottom of the screen in big red letters decoratively outlined with ice.

  A weather guy with a bad toupee was talking to a perky blonde newscaster doing her best imitation of “serious journalist face.”

  “Stephanie, this storm is just unprecedented. It literally blew out of nowhere. None of our models forecast this event, which seems to be deepening in intensity. Temperatures continue to fall throughout the state, and rising winds are sending the chill factor plummeting into negative numbers. Unless this storm leaves as quickly as it arrived, we could have a very dangerous, statewide situation on our hands.”

  A freak snowpocalypse on a Monday? Unprecedented, maybe, but unlike the weatherman, I knew the storm hadn’t just come out of nowhere.

  Acquiescing to the cats’ increasingly yowled protests, I got breakfast in the bowls before throwing on my clothes. Then I created a mountain of blankets on the sofa knowing they’d all be right back in their cuddle pile as soon as their bellies were full.

  Tori and Gemma were waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. “We have a problem,” Tori announced.

  “Other than the arctic cold front?” I asked.

  “In addition to,” she replied. “The front door is frozen shut.”

  What the . . . ? “How does that even happen?” I asked.

  Gemma started to explain. “Condensation from too much humidity . . . ”

  I held up my hands. “Please,” I said. “I haven’t had enough coffee for a science lesson. Don’t worry about the door. Nobody is going to be out in this anyway.”

  “Fine by me,” Tori said. “So what do we do?”

  “We get to the lair,” I replied. “I’d say Chesterfield has made his move.”

  24

  Tori and Gemma went into the storeroom to wake Rodney up and begin the process of relocating his bachelor pad to the lair. I started downstairs, but the instant I opened the basement door, I yelped, and dove for cover as Glory careened past me on her broom.

  She banked hard right, executed an impressive barrel roll, and came to a stop inches from my face.

  “It’s that awful Chesterfield, isn’t it?” she shrieked. “We’re all going to die, and they’ll find our freezer burned carcasses covered in crusty frost like last summer’s ice cream!”

  Glory can mix hysterical metaphors with the best of them.

  Although I wouldn’t have put the idea quite as colorfully, I hate to admit I had been thinking much the same thing. Still, I’m supposed to be one of the voices of reason around here.

  “If we’re all going to die,” I said, “who are ‘they’ and how will they find us?”

  That accomplished nothing but sending Glory’s mind diving down yet another rabbit hole.

  “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh . . . my . . . gosh,” she exclaimed. “You’re right! We’ll be like the dinosaurs in the tar pits.”

  I should have let it go, but some temptations are just too strong.

  “Glory,” I said patiently, “the tar pits are hot.”

  “But how do you know the dinosaurs didn’t freeze first and then fall into the pits?” she shot back. “It could have happened that way, you know.”

  And this is how conspiracy theories are born.

  “First,” I said, “I do think it’s Chesterfield, but nobody is going to die. Second, calm down and quit zooming around on that broom before you put somebody’s eye out.”

  The instant I said it, I winced. The words sounded far too much like my mother’s famous “don’t run with that sparkler” line.

  “You’re coming to the lair?” she asked.

  “I am if I don’t have to dodge any more jet-propelled mini witches on the staircase,” I said. “Why don’t you go see if Gemma and Tori need any help in the storeroom? We should have all hands on board. You know, to get through this.”

  Don’t start with me. I didn’t lie to her. And no, I didn’t exactly pass the buck on dealing with her either. Let’s think of it more in terms of “reallocation,” and Glory was completely onboard with the idea. She actually snapped me a salute before wheeling around and flying away.

  Making a fast exit before Tori could “reallocate” Glory right back at me, I went downstairs to find Beau, Greer, and Myrtle watching the latest weather reports on the big screen TV.

  “Good morning,” Greer said. “Shall we safely assume Chesterfield has taken up weather manipulation?”

  “Uh, yeah,” I said. “Is there such a thing as meteorological magic?”

  “Of course,” Myrtle said, “but rarely on this scale. Perhaps a stray rain incantation or a spell to invoke a cooling breeze on a warm day. Sending an entire state into an impromptu ice age, on the other hand, reeks of Chesterfield’s flair for melodrama.”

  “Do you have any explanation for how he’s doing this?” I asked.

  “I would like to confer with Barnaby and Moira before I attempt to answer that question,” Myrtle said. “Since the initial conversation may be a bit esoteric, I will initiate the call from my quarters.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’m going to get in touch with my folks and get them back over here.”

  “And I will ring up Lucas,” Greer said. “I believe he’s in Patagonia at the moment, but he will want to return to Briar Hollow immediately when he learns what is happening.”

  “Beau, can you coordinate with Darby to make sure everyone has a place to sleep, and that we’re good with food and essentials?” I said.

  “I would be delighted to do so,” Beau replied. “It has been some time since I have been called upon to provision an army, but I certainly have not forgotten how to accomplish the deed.”

  The feeling that we were all doing something eased some of my anxiety over the sudden crisis in which we found ourselves. As I stepped into the alcove, Tori and Gemma came down the stairs carrying Rodney’s bachelor pad with Glory flying alongside. The rat, who was perched on Tori’s shoulder, didn’t look too happy about the move.

  “You’ll be safe and warm down here, Rodney,” I heard Glory say. “Jinx won’t let Mr. Chesterfield get us.”

  The earnest faith in her voice put a lump in my throat. I had absolutely no idea how to reverse the effects of something as massive as what we were facing, but the fact that Glory believed I did somehow made me feel stronger and more resolute.

  Stepping into my alcove, I took out my phone.

  Mom answered on the first ring. “Norma Jean,” she said, “is everyone over there okay?”

  “We’re fine,” I replied, “but I think you and Dad should come back. I’m pretty sure Chesterfield is behind this storm.”

  She paused for just a heartbeat and then said. “We have to bring the dogs. There’s no way your father will leave them at Leroy’s in this weather.”

  “Duke will be over the moon,�
�� I said. “We’re all moving to the lair where it’s warm and safe. Gemma and Tori are bringing Rodney’s stuff down now. The dogs will be fine. They can romp all over the place. We’ll make it work. I promise.”

  I neglected to mention that I would be transferring my cats to the lair as well. Surely someone in the group could figure out how to keep the two species separated and Rodney safe from all critters present.

  “Don’t be so quick to make promises like that, young lady,” Mom said. “If this forced visit goes well, you may be babysitting your father’s dogs on a regular basis after we move. You know, he does use your cats as justification for the idea of keeping a pack of hounds in an apartment.”

  Technically only one of Dad’s dogs qualifies as a hound, but I decided to let that distinction slide.

  “That’s fine,” I said, “just get on the road before the conditions get any worse.”

  She assured me they’d be over before nightfall. I called Amity next.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  With her usual acerbic incisiveness, Amity snapped, “What’s good about it? I’m freezing my backside off, and God only knows what this is going to do to my bottom line for the month. My New Year’s sale is supposed to start today.”

  “Amity, nobody is going to be making any money during a storm like this,” I pointed out.

  “Tell that to the generator salesmen,” she said.

  Crud. Power outages. I hadn’t thought about that. “Hold on, Amity,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Setting my phone on the desk, I exited the alcove and walked to Myrtle’s door. Hesitating for just a second, I started to knock. Myrtle’s voice stopped me.

  “Come in, Jinx,” she called out. “The door is not locked.”

  Who needs a video doorbell when you’re an ancient Fae being?

  Turning the knob, I stepped into what I can only describe as a storybook vision of a home in which a forest elf might live. The architecture was vaguely Old English, but the fanciful lines of the furniture and the curious objects sitting on the mantle and in the cabinets made the room both exotic and warm. A fire crackled in the round fireplace, and oil lamps glowed in brass sconces on the walls.

  Myrtle was seated in a comfortable high-backed chair talking to Moira in a rectangular standing mirror.

  “Hi, Moira,” I said, waving. “Sorry to interrupt, but I have a quick question for Myrtle.”

  “Of course,” Moira said. “We have only just begun.”

  Turning to Myrtle, I asked, “Is the fairy mound self-powered?”

  The aos si frowned. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Self-powered?”

  “Is there any chance we’re going to lose electricity?” I rephrased.

  “Oh,” Myrtle said, “no, not at all. In modern times we have paid the electrical generation company so as not to raise suspicions regarding our identities, but no, there is no actual necessity for external power.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “That’s all I needed to know.”

  I let myself out and returned to my conversation with Amity.

  “Sorry about that,” I said when I picked up the phone. “If the electricity goes out, join us in the lair. The fairy mound . . .”

  “Makes its own juice,” Amity said. “For heaven’s sake, Jinx, I’m hardly new at this.”

  I really wanted to tell her I might remember that if she ever came around and participated in what was going on, but that would only serve to make her crabbier.

  “Right,” I said. “Well, there’s also the added wrinkle that we think Chesterfield is behind this storm.”

  The silence on the line stretched out so long I thought the connection had broken.

  “I’m still here,” Amity said as if reading my mind. “I’ll pack a few things and be over later.”

  Well, that was an abrupt change of heart, but dropping Chesterfield’s name does have a way of doing that to people.

  No sooner had I put the phone down than Chase and Festus walked into the Lair.

  “Enjoying the tropical heat wave?” Chase asked.

  “Very funny,” I said. “Did Tori call you?”

  “She did,” Chase said, “but we were just about to come over anyway. I think you’re right about the Chesterfield connection, but I’m going to have to leave you all to sort that out without me for a few hours.”

  “Why?”

  “Sheriff Johnson called,” he said. “His office is organizing volunteers to check on old folks around town. The temperature is still dropping. The mayor is working on getting the high school gym set up as a community shelter. Right now, they can’t find a big enough generator to power the whole place.”

  No pun intended, but a light bulb flipped on in my head.

  “I can take care of that,” I said. “I’ll call in a favor with Cezar Ionescu. The Strigoi have enough generators up at their place in the mountains to light up the whole town.”

  Greer, who had been typing on a laptop while we were talking, looked up from the keyboard. “They have the generators,” she said, “but the Strigoi require electricity to feed. I don’t think you want both an arctic blizzard and a host of hungry Romanian vampires on your hands at the same time.”

  “Will two generators do it?” I asked Chase.

  “They will,” he said. “And I’d like to use the GNATS drones to help ensure everyone in town is safe.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Just leave one drone to keep an eye on the store.”

  That’s pretty much how the rest of the day went — high organizational mode. I called George and Irma at the corner store to make sure they were okay.

  “Lord yes, honey,” Irma said, “but every shelf in the place was emptied out by 9 o’clock. We’re hold up in our apartment with plenty of food and a good space heater. Our boy, Elwood, is coming to get us and take us to his house before the sun goes down. We’ll be fine. You all doing okay?”

  “Yes ma’am,” I said. “We’re going to ride it out here. There’s a . . . uh . . . emergency generator in the basement.”

  “Well, imagine that,” she said. “That was real smart of Fiona. Is it vented good, honey? We don’t want to come back and find you and Tori all blue and asphyxiated.”

  She said that last part like it would be a shame, but perfectly normal for two irresponsible young women trying to operate machinery that only a man should touch.

  “It’s a very safe system,” I assured her. “You won’t find us asphyxiated.”

  Chase returned just before nightfall half frozen to the bone. We settled him in front of the fire under a blanket with a stiff glass of Scotch and a bowl of beef stew Darby produced.

  “So far everyone we’ve checked on is well provisioned or has plans to go somewhere else,” Chase told us between bites, “but the electric company is already dealing with iced over lines breaking. Cezar came through with the generators. He and some of his people are helping get everything connected and working over at the gym. He said to tell you that if more generators are needed, the Ionescu Clan will provide them.”

  Sometimes the greatest displays of humanity come from the folks other people have branded as “monsters.”

  And speaking of monsters, that would be the moment when Mom, Dad, and the dogs showed up.

  25

  You want to talk apocalypse? Consider this equation:

  (6 dogs + 4 cats + 1 rat) x 1 troublemaking old werecat2 = chaos

  Earlier in the day, Myrtle took the news of the impending critter influx calmly. She assured me that containment would not be an issue — but did point out Glory might not be all that safe either. Given her size, she could easily be mistaken for a snack or a dog toy.

  My free floating anxiety over the bigger picture — you know, the whole coming of the second Ice Age — had to go somewhere. It settled on matters of animal control, conjuring up one disaster scenario after another.

  Myrtle listened tolerantly and then suggested we build the zoo in stages. “Bring your cats down first,” she
said, “and we will make arrangements for them.”

  Her strategy was solid. Just wrangling the recalcitrant felines into their carriers provided more than enough distraction for my worried mind. Their general attitude seemed to be, “Oh, hell no, we are not going to vet jail in this weather.”

  When I finally got them downstairs, their native curiosity kicked in, however, and the yowls changed in tone to, “let us out of here so we can explore.”

  “I don’t want them getting lost in the archive,” I told the aos si. This place is huge. We’ll never find them again.”

  “A small matter,” Myrtle said, inclining her head toward the ceiling and listening again. “The fairy mound assures me the cats will not be allowed out of sight of the lair.”

  Slightly mollified, I said, “Okay, and how about keeping them and the dogs separate?”

  “That,” Myrtle said, “is my job. Please release the individual cats simultaneously if possible.”

  Tori, Greer, and Beau stepped in to help me. We each took a single carrier and counted off the release. As soon as the doors opened, Myrtle conjured up what looked like an enormous soap bubble.

  The enchantment covered all of us, but we were able to step beyond its borders. The cats couldn’t, running into the soft barriers with consternation.

  “They may move around as they please,” Myrtle said. “When the dogs arrive, they will be placed in a similar flexible enclosure. The two species may not cross into each other’s space, and neither Rodney nor Glory can come within more than two feet of either of them. Is that satisfactory?”

  Satisfactory? The whole set-up was brilliant.

  The cats didn’t take long to acclimate to their new surroundings. Even by lazy cat standards, no one will ever accuse my guys of being athletic. They forgot about the bubble entirely once they spotted the fireplace and became intent on staking out places for themselves on the hearth.

  When Yule tried to claim Festus’ favorite spot, the old ginger tom nailed him with a menacing hiss. I decided to let them settle the problem between themselves with the unspoken rules of cat-to-cat diplomacy. It worked because my boys obviously have come to see Festus as the head cat in charge.