by Tasha Black
So much for his spell. Maybe there would be a more imposing lock inside somewhere.
Ainsley slid the barn doors open. The scent of gasoline and grass trimmings filled Julian’s nose, as they stepped into the gloom.
As soon as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could make out the riding lawnmowers that filled the space. Various tools hung on a pegboard along the back wall, each nestled inside a traced outline of itself.
No stone corridor, and no floor with a patterned groove like in Ainsley’s dream.
But there was something. A tingle in the air, a pulse. Julian couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was magic at work in this place somewhere.
He glanced at Grace to see if she felt it, too. She didn’t return his gaze, but the tension in her shoulders and the grim set of her jaw gave him his answer.
Even in this place, with danger around the corner, he couldn’t help but revel in the fiercely controlled stance of her small body. Oh, but he had seen her soft and begging.
“What now?” asked Grace in a whisper.
“I’m afraid I’m at a loss,” he replied in kind. “I’ve done magical searches for the location before, but it is too heavily shielded. Spells won’t help us.”
“Maybe we need a simpler method.” Ainsley dropped to all fours and sniffed at the ground.
She stood and walked very slowly toward the front wall of the field house, Grace trailing close behind.
After a few steps, she stopped and cocked her head to the side, listening as she stomped her foot three times.
Julian heard nothing, but Ainsley must have been satisfied. She dropped to the ground again and began feeling around with her hands.
Grace moved closer and Julian followed, feeling suddenly protective.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“It’s right here,” she replied, thumping the floor with a fist. “Hear that?”
He didn’t. But he did trust Ainsley’s ears more than his own. Julian knelt and touched the spot with one hand. With the other, he reached into his jacket pocket and fished out a piece of chalk.
In the age of videoconferencing and touch screens, he remained very much a chalk and slate kind of teacher. He crushed the chalk to dust in his hand and then muttered a few words of finding. He tossed the dust into the air as he finished.
It hung there for a second, before floating peacefully to the ground.
“Wow,” Ainsley said, staring at the tiny white dusting. “Let’s hope the bad guys are made of chalk. They won’t know what hit them. Julian, what...”
She trailed off as the chalk dust began to dance.
It moved slowly at first, as though the ground vibrated beneath it, picking up speed and spreading along the floor. In the span of two breaths, most of the dust had gathered in neat, straight lines, revealing the edges of a simple floor hatch. The remaining particles highlighted a small pull ring on one side.
“Neat,” Ainsley said, reaching for the ring with both hands, no doubt intending to tear the thing from its hinges if need be.
“No!” Grace and Julian said as one. He met her gaze briefly, but she only looked away.
“There’s a ward on it,” Julian whispered.
He tried a spell of removal.
Nothing.
It wasn’t until he had given a spell in the direction of each corner that he felt its energy dissipate.
“This was done well by someone powerful,” he said. “Probably the same person who set the trap that... that was meant for you, Ainsley.”
She nodded once and reached for the ring again.
The door’s ancient hinges protested loudly, but it opened. The dark obscured any view of what waited below.
“Lux ex tenebris,” Ainsley said with quiet confidence.
To Julian’s amazement, motes of light encircled her hand like a thousand tiny fireflies, then took off down the hatch, illuminating the rungs of a ladder.
She had taken the light spell he’d taught her and given it her own touch. A spark of her mother’s nature magic. Impressive.
“Someone’s been paying attention to her lessons,” he said.
“You can give me a gold star if we live,” she replied, already lowering herself into the opening.
Grace scanned the field house one last time, then did the same.
Julian followed as close behind them as he could, without risking stepping on Grace’s head. The idea of her in the darkness below the field house distressed him, even though he knew she was very capable of taking care of herself.
A small gasp from Ainsley at the bottom did little to ease his mind.
As soon as Grace was clear, he dropped the rest of the way down to the stone floor below and turned to survey the scene.
The faintly lit corridor that led away from them matched Ainsley’s description to a tee. No wonder she had been unsettled.
Grace put a finger to her lips. Ainsley nodded, then indicated that they should follow her down the corridor.
They walked in silence for some time, the air damp and the stones moist beneath their feet, Ainsley’s fireflies lighting the way. Julian wondered what part of Tarker’s Hollow they were under now, but his sense of direction was useless in the meandering tunnel.
At last, they came to a large, open archway.
“Be careful,” Ainsley hissed, and slipped into the room beyond, Grace and Julian in tow.
The room was as Ainsley had described it - domed ceiling and an intricate pattern of grooves spiraling to the center of the floor.
“What is this?” Grace whispered, nodding to the rusty discoloration of a the indentations near her feet. Julian could tell by the devastated look on her face that she knew it was blood.
The rusty stain trailed away from the grooves and Ainsley followed it with her light.
In the corner, an exsanguinated corpse in a yellow raincoat leaned against the wall, head tilted at an unnatural angle. The brash colors of her dyed hair and the coat contrasted with her ashen skin, as though she were a partially colorized picture.
“Lilliana,” Grace whispered. “She came to me for help.”
Julian knelt to examine the body. At his touch, the papery gray skin turned to powder.
“She’s a dried out husk,” he whispered. “It’s not like she bled out. It’s like the fluids were sucked out of her. This was magic.”
“At least it was over fast,” Ainsley said.
“Actually,” Julian said. “For maximum effect, she would have been kept alive until the very last drop was gone.”
Grace went pale and sucked in a breath.
Ainsley elbowed Julian, hard enough to leave a bruise.
“Sorry,” he said. “At any rate, this is bad.”
“No shit,” Ainsley replied, gesturing to the desiccated corpse.
“No,” he explained. “It means that the creature inside will be stronger now. It’s been fed,”
They all looked back at the grooves in the floor.
Ainsley sniffed the air.
“Charley and Garrett have been here,” she informed them. “Recently.”
“It looks like they tried to open the tomb,” Julian said. “But failed without the key.”
“So they still don’t have it,” Ainsley said.
“It would appear not,” Julian said. “Why did they think you had it in the first place, Ainsley?”
“Beats me,” Ainsley shrugged.
Grace shook her head and her features returned to their usual expression of calm concentration.
“What do we know about them?” she asked in her policewoman voice, sending a shiver down Julian’s spine.
“Charley has been fooling us our whole lives,” Ainsley said. “He’s good. He won’t be sloppy.”
“What about Garrett?” Julian asked.
“He’s new in town,” said Grace. “I heard him say he was sent to speed things up when Charley wasn’t getting results. He’s had contact with two people. One of them is dead. He got what he wanted
from her.”
She looked back at Lilliana’s body, hunched in the corner.
“They other is in a coma,” Grace continued, really hitting her stride. “He said the incident with Sadie was ‘unfortunate’.”
“So he didn’t mean to do it. He lost his temper,” Julian said.
“That could help us later,” Ainsley noted, already scouting his weaknesses for when she faced him again.
How different she was from the prim girl he’d met in the coffee shop barely two months ago. That Ainsley couldn’t bear to sit at a table until all the crumbs had been cleared. This one was actively plotting to kill a man that had wronged her.
“So, Sadie had something he wanted,” Grace said. “Could she have had the key?”
“And he got angry when she wouldn’t give it to him,” Julian added.
“Where would Sadie keep a key?” Ainsley asked. “All she cares about is her garden and...”
“Her dog!” Ainsley and Grace said together.
“Yes,” Grace continued, picking up the thread expertly. She was a joy to see in action. “Camilla Parker Bowles must be part of it. Could the key be hidden on her? Maybe on her collar?”
“It would be too big for that,” Julian interjected.
“In her?” Ainsley offered.
“It’s...possible,” Julian said.
“Poor Camilla Parker Bowles is lucky Garrett didn’t come after her with that cane,” said Grace.
“Let’s go get the dog and take her to Volker for an X-ray,” Ainsley said.
“No, you do that, Ainsley,” Grace said. “Julian and I are going back to the hospital. I know what’s wrong with Sadie.”
Chapter 22
Erik was back in his room, staring at the glow stars on the ceiling, and seriously thinking about grabbing one of Jake’s romance novels just for something to distract him from his nervous energy, when he heard the front door bang shut.
“Ezekiel! Are you still playing on that idiot box! Turn it off!” LeeAnn’s voice cut through the house about an octave higher than he’d heard it before.
“Yes, ma’am,” he heard the boy say.
“Mary! Why is there no dinner?” she yelled, her voice sounded almost triumphant.
Erik heard Mary sigh dramatically in the room next to his, then the creak of her mattress as she dragged herself out of bed and down the stairs.
Erik hopped up too. He was pretty sure LeeAnn didn’t have anything to holler at him about, but he didn’t want to take any chances. And besides, he was excited about her new-found energy.
When he reached the foot of the stairs, he saw Mary lolling in the kitchen doorway, Zeke peering around her. The twins, Ruth and Rachel, worked to untie the bright orange belts from around their white karate uniforms. Erik heard the banging and smashing of utensils and pans.
“This town has got to get back to business as usual,” LeeAnn was saying. “Just because something bad happened doesn’t mean we can sit around feeling sorry for ourselves. Mary! Get me the beans!”
Mary scrambled into the kitchen and opened a cupboard.
“Here, Mom,” she said, handing over the can.
“Well, open it! You know what to do,” LeeAnn said. “I’m making cowboy dinner, Zeke, how’s that?”
The boy smiled guardedly, but didn’t move out of the doorway. Erik figured he didn’t know what to make of his mom’s newfound energy.
“So the talk with Patty went well?” Erik ventured.
“Oh, yeah. I am so glad you suggested it! We’ve got a plan and I’m putting it in motion tonight. We’re going to organize the Copper Creek Halloween Parade - life goes on.”
“Yes!” Zeke yelled.
“Girls,” LeeAnn hollered, “Don’t you get those uniforms dirty. Put them back in the bag on the dining room table where they belong, then go get dressed for supper.”
Ruth and Rachel answered with a stampede of miniature footsteps and tiny giggles.
“What a great idea,” Erik said. “The parade, I mean.”
“Ezekiel, honey, you can help with that. We’re gonna decorate the house tonight to get everyone into the spirit of it. Everyone’s looking to us. If our family can celebrate, others will do the same. Can you and Dr. Jensen get the decorations out of the attic?”
“Yup,” Zeke said.
“Ezekiel Miller.”
“I meant yes, Ma’am,” he returned.
“That’s better,” LeeAnn said. “Oh, and kids, what costumes do you want? Patty and I are going shopping tomorrow to get supplies and fabric if we need it.”
“A ninja,” Zeke said enthusiastically.
“You were a ninja last year,” Mary said.
“But this year, I’m gonna be a ZOMBIE ninja! Get lots of fake blood, Mom. Like, lots.”
“I wanna be Batman,” came a high-pitched voice from the dining room. Erik thought it was Ruth, but he wasn’t a hundred percent sure.
“Bat-girl!” the other, even higher voice corrected.
“No! BatMAN I said. Batgirl is stupid.”
“Batgirl,” came the sing-song reply. “Batgirl, batgirl, batgiiiiiiiiirl.”
“Mom!” The tiny footsteps thundered up the stairs without waiting for an answer.
“What about you, Mary?” LeeAnn asked, nonplussed.
“Oh, I can’t decide!” Mary began excitedly. She looked around the room, her lips pursed in concentration. Until she noticed Erik. The excitement on her face disappeared like a door had closed.
“Actually,” she said in a serious tone. “I think I’m getting kinda old for this stuff. I’m not going to dress up this year.”
Erik hoped she wasn’t trying to impress him. But he had just talked with her about her new, grown-up responsibilities. He’d have to find a way to let her know it was okay to dress up.
While he was thinking, Zeke grabbed his arm and began pulling him toward the stairs.
“Come on, doc, let’s get the decorations! The spider goes on my door this year! Well, your door, I guess.”
Erik climbed up the pull-down steps and ventured all the way into the attic.
“Did you find ‘em?” Zeke asked eagerly.
“Oh, sure. Here, can you carry these?” Erik asked, handing the boy a clear plastic bin labeled GRAVESTONES AND BONES.
“Yup!” Zeke grabbed it and clambered back down the ladder.
Erik looked back for the next box. Behind the space he’d just cleared, something caught his eye. A chest. Definitely an antique. Wood with sulfur inlays. And not coated with a layer of dust like everything else in the attic seemed to be.
Which meant it was used often.
He’d seen this type of chest before. Erik searched his memory and was hit with an unexpected pang of sadness. It looked an awful lot like the one at Ainsley’s house.
He tried to open it but it was locked.
Shoot.
Erik froze and tried to get into Jake’s mind. I hide a chest and I lock it. I have a small house and two curious kids. Where do I put the key?
He looked around for an answer.
The edge of something peeked over the side of the massive rafter above his head. Not daring to believe that luck might be with him, he held his breath and reached up.
Snap!
“Ouch!”
Oh, sweet god, that hurt!
“You okay up there?” he heard LeeAnn holler.
“I’m fine,” he yelled back through clenched teeth. “Found your mouse trap!”
He shook his hand, then pulled himself up to check for more traps.
Next to the spent mouse trap sat an old, brass key.
Smart, Jake, smart.
“Hey, doc, I’m ready for the next one!” Zeke piped up from the second floor landing.
“Okay,” Erik said, absentmindedly scanning the attic for another Halloween box. A small box labeled SPIDER RINGS caught his eye and he handed it down the ladder to where Zeke was waiting.
“Sweet!” Zeke chortled as he headed down.
&n
bsp; A moment later, Erik heard a small crash and Zeke’s cry of despair.
“Well, pick them all up!” LeeAnn said.
Maybe the spilled plastic spider rings would buy him enough time to check out the chest. He slid the key into the lock and it opened easily.
Books filled the inside. Mostly romance novels, like Mary had told him were up here. But the two books on top stood out from the rest. He grabbed them both for a closer look.
Native American Symbols and Meanings and Encyclopedia of Myth, Legend and Folklore.
He opened Native American Symbols and Meanings and began to skim it. Hastily scrawled notes filled the margins. They were numbers, not words. Some had symbols too. One showed two arrows pointing at each other. Another looked like a mask with two antennae on top and fuzzy antlers on the side. Erik had never seen anything like it. He turned the book sideways and it looked a little like pac-man with feet.
Erik closed the book and picked up the Encyclopedia of Myth, Legend and Folklore. A piece of folded notebook paper acted as a bookmark near the middle of the volume. He opened to the saved page.
Eastern European Myths. The entry was titled Moroi.
Moroi: From the Romanian word ‘mort’ meaning ‘dead’ or the Slavic word meaning ‘nightmare’
Why would Jake be interested in that?
He’d have to study them more later. Maybe Bonnie at the library could help him shed some light on it.
He was about to return the folded paper that had been holding the spot when he noticed it had writing on it. A drawing of some kind.
He opened the paper and his heart turned to ice. The notepaper held a sketch of a complicated, interwoven symbol.
The symbol on the trap that took his wolf.
Erik’s eyes got lost in the patterns on the paper. The runes writhed and twisted into the shape of the snake. Ainsley screamed his name as the dripping, silver fangs sunk into his back.
Erik.
“Erik?”
A hand touched his back in the exact spot where he still carried the scar. Erik jumped slightly.
“Dr. Jensen, is everything okay?”
Mary.
He hadn’t even noticed her come up. Stupid human hearing.
“I’m fine, Mary, just lost in my own head for a minute,” he tried to smile casually and worried that he probably looked like a serial killer.