She sat up and her hands shot down. An energy bolt sizzled past me as I stepped aside. It hit the wall with a faint pop, leaving a charred circle the size of a dime.
“Huh, I stand corrected. But that’s really more of a party trick. What you need is one of these.” I slammed a high-voltage energy bolt into the wall inches from her head. It left a hole the size of my fist.
Still sitting, she started to cast a binding spell. I smacked her with a smaller energy bolt, making her jump.
“You really are a one-trick pony, aren’t you?” I said. “Well, two, I guess, if you include that pathetic energy bolt.” I leaned down and whispered. “It’s really kind of embarrassing.”
She lunged. I grabbed her by the front of her shirt and threw her into an ancient printing press.
“Not expecting that?” I said. “Lesson two. Learn some self-defense tricks as well as spellcasting.”
Tiffany rose and touched the back of her shoulder. Her fingers came away bloody.
“You bitch,” she whispered.
She launched an energy bolt. I darted to the side, but not fast enough. It caught me in the elbow, jolting me enough to make me bite my tongue. Rage rushed through me. My hands flew up. The energy bolt hit her in the shoulder and scorched through her blouse. She screamed, and I smelled burning flesh.
When her hands rose again, I hit her with a spell Paige and Lucas hadn’t taught me, one they didn’t know. It pinned her to the wall, her guts on fire, her face contorting in agony.
As I held her there, blood roared in my ears. Seeing her writhing, hearing her mewling ... I amped it up, just a notch, watching her face, seeing and feeling her terror and—
“Enough, Savannah.” Paige’s voice, deep in my head. “You have her. You won. That’s enough.”
The rush evaporated and when I looked at Tiffany again, I saw her terror and panic. I released the spell.
“Now you know what I can do,” I said as I stepped toward her. “If you cast any more spells you’ll get another taste of that one. Got it?”
“Bitch,” she said.
“You keep calling me that. I have a name, you know, though it seems you don’t know exactly who I am, so let’s try a proper introduction. I’m Savannah—”
“I know who you are.” Her lips twisted as she got to her feet. “Daughter of Eve Levine and Kristof Nast. Foster daughter of Paige Winterbourne and Lucas Cortez. The golden girl of the supernatural world. Under the protection of two Cabals and the interracial council.”
“Actually, one Cabal. Thomas Nast refuses to recognize me. That’ll change when my brother takes over, but in the meantime, I’ve got the werewolf Pack. For protection, I’ll take them over the Nasts any day.”
“I suppose you think that makes you special.”
“Uh, yeah....”
“Well, it doesn’t. It makes you privileged. You get your spell power from your parents and your political power from your connections. Take that away, and you’re just a smart-ass little girl who thinks she’s all grown up. Thinks she can sail into town, intimidate me, stalk me—”
“Stalk you ? You’re the one who keeps coming after me.”
“Bullshit. Did you think I wouldn’t notice I was being followed? Wouldn’t cast perimeter spells and know you’re lurking around my house?”
“I don’t know what meds you’re on, but they’re powerful stuff. I’ve never even been near your house. If you saw me there—”
“I didn’t need to see you. Someone starts following me and, two days later, Savannah Levine pops up, supposedly investigating the murder of humans. Bullshit. You came here for me. Then you found out we’d had some murders and decided it’d be easier to play private eye.
Twice now I’d felt someone watching me, who disappeared when I got close. Two witches in town, both being followed by a mystery stalker. Hmm.
“It wasn’t me,” I said.
“Like hell. You’re investigating me, on behalf of the council.”
“How do you know I’m not investigating Cody?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes. “Since when does the council bother with humans?”
Damn. After Molly’s call, I’d really been hoping Cody was a druid. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? But what exactly did Tiffany think I was investigating her for? Let’s give her a shake and see what came loose.
“You’re in a lot of trouble, Tiffany,” I said. “You thought you could just hide out here in Nowhere-ville, but the council has caught up with you.”
She crossed her arms. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“No? Let’s start with the minor offenses, like sharing your rituals with your human husband. I saw Tommy’s Facebook album. If you were going to tell Cody what you are—which isn’t advisable, but not a crime—then you should have told him to be more discreet. That’s an exposure threat, which attracts the interest of both the council and the Cabals.”
“I didn’t—” She sucked in breath, rethinking the denial. “It was back when we were dating. He walked in on me doing a healing ritual. I had a big exam and felt a cold coming on. I told him I was Wiccan. That’s what he thinks. He wanted me to show him some magic for his frat party, and I made up a ritual. If you take a good look at Tommy’s photos, you’ll see it’s fake.”
“Maybe. But that’s just the first of your offenses, isn’t it?”
She brushed dust off her slacks. Buying time.
“I’m allowed to use my powers to benefit my family,” she said, chin lifting. “As long as I’m careful, I can do that.”
“Sure. You can entertain the baby with a light show. You can mix healing teas for your kids. You can set perimeter spells. Hell, if the neighbor’s brat was picking on yours, you could wallop him with a knockback ... if you knew the spell. But that’s not what we’re talking about, is it?”
“Don’t you have better things to do? Bigger crimes to punish?”
“Nope. But I will give you a chance to defend yourself.” I glanced at my watch. “Ten minutes. Starting now.”
“Go to hell.”
I leaned against the wall. “I’m not a crusader, Tiffany. I might help Paige and the council, but I can be reasonable. Them? Not so much. So just tell—”
She spat at me. Missed. That didn’t save her from an energy bolt that had her eyes rolling back in her head as she hit the floor, flopping like a beached salmon. I stood over her.
“You want to try again?” I said.
“I have the right to protect—”
“Is someone actually threatening your family?”
“Besides you?”
“I’m only a threat if you or Cody had something to do with those murders. Otherwise, I don’t give a shit. Is anyone else threatening them?”
“What the hell do you know about families? You’re a spoiled brat who’s never had to worry about anyone but herself. If you had children, you’d understand that protecting them is about more than just fighting someone like you.”
“In other words, no. What you mean is that you’re using your powers to make money. Because, otherwise, your kids might not get the fancy sneakers they want.” I leaned over her. “You have no fucking idea what it’s like to need to put food on the table. You’re talking about lifestyle, not survival.”
“My children need—”
“Look around you, Tiffany, and you’ll see children who need. Like Kayla Thompson—”
“That whore’s daughter?” Tiffany’s lip curled.
I hit her with the internal fireball spell again and she screamed. I let her scream, writhing on the floor, and this time I didn’t hear Paige’s voice. I waited until she curled up in a ball, gasping. Then I launched it again, this time in her throat. Her eyes rolled, but she could only gag, smoke puffing with each breath. Again, I waited until the fire went out and she lay there, moaning.
“You’re going to have a sore throat for a few days,” I said. “But if you say one more word against Kayla or Paula Thompson, it’ll be the last word you ever say. Understoo
d?”
She glared up at me.
“As for the rest, I’ll give you a few hours to think about it. Then I’m knocking on your door and you’re either talking to me or—”
“Or you’re hauling me in front of the council,” she croaked.
“If I’m in a good mood. But right now, Tiffany, I’m not in a good mood. You’ve got until three o’clock,” I said and walked away.
twenty-five
What the hell had happened with my knockback and energy-bolt spells? had spells didn’t fail—not ones I knew so well I bolt spells? My spells didn’t fail—not ones I knew so well I could cast them in my sleep.
As I thought about it, though, I remembered that lingering headache and my unsettled stomach. Nothing serious, but put them together and I could be coming down with something. The last time I’d had the flu, it had wiped me out, spell power, too.
But right now, my biggest worry was that I’d made a mistake by walking away and leaving Tiffany with a warning. I’d wanted to push harder, yet I’d realized that I didn’t have any leverage. All I knew was that she’d done something she thought worthy of council attention. I needed more information.
Molly said the ritual was druidic. I kind of hoped she was wrong, because that added another complication to a case that didn’t need it, not when I was already following leads on witchcraft and Santeria. Did that mean Tiffany Radu wasn’t the only supernatural hiding out in Columbus? Was she hiding? If so, from what? Was it related to the person stalking her? The person stalking me? Was that person involved in Michael’s death?
As I walked toward the Thompson home, I called Paige.
“So, how’s the beach?” I said when she answered.
“We saw it.”
“Through your resort room window?”
She gave a throaty laugh. “No. We went for a beach walk last night. Today we’re touring the volcano. Tomorrow we’re going into the rain forest.”
“Missing the point, aren’t you? You’re supposed to be lying on the beach, soaking up the rays ...”
Paige made a gagging noise. Even on vacation, it would take a binding spell to get her to stay still.
We talked for another couple of minutes. Then, as I was ready to hang up, she suddenly said. “Is everything okay, Savannah?”
“Hmm?”
“You sound a little off. Are you okay?”
My throat clenched and I gripped the phone. No, I’m not. The guy I went out with last night is dead. I found his body. I spent the night being interrogated by the cops. I don’t want to tell you what’s happening because you’re on vacation, and I can handle this, but I just feel ... lonely. I feel lonely.
“Everything’s fine,” I said.
A pause. “Okay, then, well, if you need us, just call.”
“I will.”
NEXT, JESSE CHECKED in to say he’d gotten tied up in Seattle—a client showed up just as he was grabbing stuff from the office. He was on his way now and would call me when he was in town.
I told him about Tiffany. I’m not sure what bothered him most: that she knew who I was or that we both thought someone was spying on us.
“The targeting of two witches doesn’t constitute a racially motivated pattern, as Lucas would say,” I said. “We could just have a random peeper.”
“Still, I don’t like it,” he said. “Be careful, okay?”
When I told him about the druidic link, he seemed far less concerned.
“Not many of them practice the old rites these days,” he said. “Who’s your source?”
“A friend of my mom’s.”
“We should check it out, but I suspect someone’s just trying to get in your good books, Savannah. Have you asked Adam to look into it?”
“Not yet. I thought I’d research it myself.”
“Let me handle it, then. I’ll send the pics to a Druid buddy, see what he says.”
I signed off and headed up the walk to confront Paula Thompson.
When I knocked, Kayla answered. She looked up at me, her thin face solemn. “I’m sorry about Detective Kennedy.”
“So am I.”
She nodded and backed up to let me in.
“Is your grandma—?”
“Right here.” Paula rounded the corner, wiping flour-dusted hands on her apron.
“Something smells good,” I said.
“It’s for you,” Kayla said. “When Mom died, people brought food over, so I told Grandma we should make you something. Usually it’s casseroles, but Grandma said you won’t want that in a motel room, so we’re making muffins. Do you like blueberry?”
“I love them,” I said. “Thank you.”
Damn. This was going to make what I had to do very tough.
“Do you have a minute?” I said to Paula. “I need to speak to you.”
“Of course. Come on in.”
She waved me through to the kitchen. History books were spread across the table. As Kayla moved them aside, I could see her work-sheets, her neat handwriting below her grandma’s questions, Paula’s writing painfully precise, like a schoolgirl’s herself. Homeschooling a child couldn’t be easy, but Paula was trying. Anything for her granddaughter.
I turned to Paula. “I should really speak to you alone.”
“I’m fine,” Kayla said, parking herself in a chair.
“It’s about the police file on Ginny’s murder,” I said. “Did you know they took DNA samples?”
“Course they did,” Kayla said. “Everyone does these days.”
“Actually, no. Someone seems to have gone a little overboard, considering they didn’t find any DNA at the scene. They took samples from the victims and they tried to from any possible suspects. Cody wouldn’t go for it, but they got them from an old boyfriend of Brandi’s, as well as Ginny’s landlord, and Alastair Koppel ...”
Paula froze, oven door open, muffin tray in hand. It took her a second to unstick herself and get the tray in.
“We compared samples,” I said.
“With what?” Kayla asked, screwing up her nose. “You said there wasn’t any DNA at the scene.”
“Kayla,” Paula said. “I need some brown sugar.”
“Brown sugar?”
“To sprinkle on the tops.” She dug in her purse and handed Kayla a ten. “Can you get some from the grocery? And, yes, you can buy yourself something. Remember what the dentist said, though, no hard or sticky candy.”
Kayla studied her grandmother’s expression, then she scowled at me. She didn’t know why her grandma was upset, but I was clearly responsible.
“I’m staying,” she said. “Whatever she has to say—”
“Kayla.” Paula’s voice sharpened. “Don’t take that tone with Ms. Levine, and don’t tell me what you will or won’t do. I need you to go to the store. That’s not a request.”
Kayla shot me an icy look, but she obeyed. Paula went to the front window to watch her go. I stayed in the kitchen. When she came back, she took a seat. I did the same.
“Yes, Alastair is Ginny’s father,” she said. “But I wasn’t lying when I said she didn’t know and that she didn’t have any contact with him.”
“That’s splitting a very fine hair, Ms. Thompson. You knew what I meant—was there any relationship between them? I’d consider that a relationship.”
“I wouldn’t.”
She met my eyes, with that same defiant look I’d just seen on her granddaughter. But she couldn’t hold it. After a moment, she broke off with a sigh.
“Yes, I’m sure Chief Bruyn would consider it important, too. But I didn’t.” She caught my gaze again, hers softer now. “Alastair had nothing to do with Ginny, before or after her death. He doesn’t know she’s his daughter, and I’d like to keep it that way. For Kayla’s sake.”
“Kayla?”
“I don’t want Kayla to grow up in Columbus. She needs schooling—proper schooling, with other children and a teacher who can keep up with her. I go into Battle Ground every week, trying to find w
ork, even head into Portland now and then. But there aren’t many openings for a forty-onevear-old cleaning woman with a tenth-grade education. I’m working on my GED. When this recession ends, I’ll be ready, and we’ll get out. Until then, Kayla is stuck here. With everything she’s been through, do you really think she needs the town knowing that her grandfather is the local kook? A dirty old man with a harem?”
“But what if Alastair had something to do with Ginny’s death? I know you and Chief Bruyn don’t get along—”
“Which is exactly why I didn’t tell him. I used to clean the police station. Did reception work, too. Spent four years slapping Bruyn’s fingers off my ass, pardon my language. When I found out he was telling people we were having an affair, I quit and everyone knew why. I kept my mouth shut, but that didn’t matter. As far as he’s concerned, I made a laughingstock of him. If he could tell the town that my daughter’s daddy was the local wacko? He would have given himself heart failure racing to the diner to spread the news.”
“Well, it looks a lot more suspicious now. Especially when my leads keep taking me back to Alastair’s door.”
She shook her head. “If they are, then you’re looking at someone else in that house. Alastair is a lot of things, but he isn’t a killer.”
“You didn’t want him as the father of your daughter. And that was back when he was, by all accounts, a respectable college student. He got out of town at a damned convenient time. Are you really telling me he didn’t know he was about to be a daddy? Because I’m thinking, for a twenty-year-old guy eager to make something of himself, finding out he got a sixteen-year-old girl pregnant would be plenty of incentive to decide it was time to get the hell out of Columbus and never come back.”
She didn’t answer for a minute. Then she said, “He left before I knew I was pregnant, but I think he suspected it. We’d kept our relationship a secret. His choice. Then I started missing first class every day, sick to my stomach. I wasn’t an A student, but I didn’t skip. It was a teacher who figured out what might be wrong and persuaded me to take a pregnancy test. That was a month after I started missing classes, and three weeks after Alastair gave me the ‘I love you, but I need to grow up, move onto campus, and date girls my own age’ speech.” She gave a wry smile. “As you can tell, he never quite got to that last part.”
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