Brimstone and Broomsticks: Accidental Witches Book 1

by Dunbar, Debra

  The big question was did I have the power to make law and order, and punishment, stick?

  I pushed my chair out from the table. “Guess if I’m going to face down Dallas Dickskin and demand to know where he dumped Clinton’s body, I better get going. You stay here,” I told Lucien as he also got to his feet.

  “Not a snowflake’s chance in hell, sweetheart,” he told me. “I’ve been happily sequestered here all night, but I’m not hanging out in your lovely house while you face down a bunch of moon-psychotic werewolves solo.”

  I bristled. “I can handle myself.”

  I was pretty sure I couldn’t, and having a demon along to ride shotgun and have my back, would make me feel better, but I wasn’t about to admit that to Lucien.

  “I know you can, but why should you have all the fun?” He cracked his knuckles. “If you haven’t remembered, I do like to kick some werewolf ass. And as the demon who had a gallon of blood dumped in his hotel room, I’m keen to know who’s trying to frame me for this might-be-murder.”

  He had a point. And I did need back-up. Yes, I had six sisters, but showing up with a whole coven of witches in tow wouldn’t get me any cooperation from the werewolves. Of course, showing up with a demon in tow might not either, but I was banking on Dallas not taking Lucien as seriously as he would seven witches on his doorstep.

  Chapter 14

  Cassandra

  Dallas was happy to let me into the compound. He wasn’t so happy about Lucien, and I got the impression that his dislike was equally balanced between Lucien being a demon, and Lucien not being a female he could attempt to bang.

  Werewolves. The dogs would screw anything female. The bitches were only allowed to have sex with male werewolves. It drove me nuts to have this misogynist crap right here in Accident, but that’s the way it had always been. And unless I wanted to pick up my broomstick, put on my pointy hat, and pick this mountain to die on, that’s the way it was going to continue.

  “The sheriff’s already been here,” Dallas told me. “Don’t know where Clinton is. He didn’t come home last night.”

  “Sure you guys didn’t have a challenge fight a day early?” I asked. “Couldn’t wait one more day until the full moon?”

  Dallas got a rather exasperated look on his face. “If I’d killed Clinton in a challenge fight, I’d have no reason to hide it, let alone haul a bunch of blood into town to try and frame a demon. We’re allowed pack law here on the mountain, and challenge duels aren’t murder. Besides, Clinton hasn’t announced a challenge for this month.” The older werewolf shrugged. “I know it’s coming, and it’s coming soon, but Clinton’s got enough sense to do things by the book—and so do I.”

  “So then where is he?” I insisted. Dallas didn’t seem all that concerned that his second and son was missing. Sheriff Oakes had to have told him about all the blood. Wasn’t the werewolf the slightest bit worried?

  “Full moon is tonight. I’ve got no idea where half my pack’s been the last few days.” Dallas turned and howled. Seconds later there were a dozen werewolves standing in the room, eyeing their alpha nervously.

  “That’s the wolf who was with Clinton outside of the tavern, when we were having our little disagreement,” Lucien said, pointing out Shelby.

  The werewolf bared her teeth. “I was. Dusted him off and got a smack in my face for the effort. Last I saw Clinton he was walking down the road. Why? Did he come back and kick your ass?”

  I stepped between the two, trying to make sure Lucien didn’t start another fight with yet another werewolf right in their own compound. “Was he with anyone else? Say where he was going?”

  Shelby shook her head then glanced over at Dallas. The alpha confirmed that none of the other wolves had seen Clinton, then dismissed them.

  “He’ll show up eventually,” Dallas said, walking us to the door.

  I glanced back at Shelby who was climbing the stairs. “Didn’t she challenge Clinton for second a few years back?”

  “Yes, and lost,” Dallas scoffed. “She’s a good fighter. Got real guts. Wouldn’t have mattered if she’d won. No one would have followed her anyway.”

  “Because she’s female?” I bristled.

  “That and she doesn’t know her place. Disrespects the rules. Came close to putting her down a few months back, but I like to give the girls a second chance, you know?”

  I knew I wanted to put my fist through this werewolf’s face, is what I knew. Or set his pants on fire. Grandma may have worried she wasn’t strong enough to take on the werewolves solo, but I wasn’t solo, and it was a different time than when Grandma was young.

  It was time for a change in Accident. But first I had to find Clinton Dickskin.

  Dallas walked us to my car, hovering nearby as Lucien climbed into the passenger side.

  “Thought you were gonna get rid of him, Cassie?” Dallas said with a nod toward the demon. “He needs to go. Nobody wants a demon in Accident. You get him out of here and I’ll take it up with Clinton when he gets back.”

  “Not your business, Dallas.” I told him as I climbed in the car. “The Perkins family decides who can and can’t stay in Accident, and as far as I’m concerned, this demon is welcome to visit or reside within our town.”

  We drove away and Lucien turned to me. “Is that a fact, now?”

  “Yes it is.”

  “And would you want me to stay in Accident? With you?”

  I felt my face grow hot. I’d just met him. Heck, I’d slept with him once. And here I was telling him to pretty much move in.

  “Yes. I’d like that.”

  “Good.” He looked out the back window at the compound. “Would Dallas really have killed his son in a challenge duel?” Lucien asked.

  “Would your father?” I asked in return.

  He thought on that a moment. “Probably. Dad didn’t get killed, but he did get tossed out.”

  “With half the business,” I countered.

  He grinned. “Yes, with half the business—the half no one else knew how to or wanted to run. But demons get killed in hell. I don’t think I’d be spared because of whose loins I sprang from.”

  “Same here. I don’t think Dallas would kill Clinton outright, but if the guy didn’t accept a defeat, or kept challenging over and over again, then I think Dallas would do it.”

  “But why would he hide it?”

  “He wouldn’t. I don’t think Dallas has anything to do with Clinton’s disappearance.” I sighed. “I’m beginning to think that Dallas is right. Clinton will show up eventually.”

  “So where are we going now?”

  “There’s a second mystery here. If I can’t solve the first, then maybe we can solve the second.”

  “Which is…?”

  “Which is how your coin got on the other side of that deadfall, right where the break in the wards occurred.”

  It didn’t take us long to reach the spot on Beaverton Road where Bronwyn and I had parked just last night. It all looked benign in the sunshine, a bunch of fallen trees and brambles at the end of a dirt road. Lucien and I got out of the car and walked over, standing in front of the mess.

  “So, walk me through the fight again. That’s when you lost the coin?”

  “I’m assuming so. I had it earlier when we were in the bar drinking, because I was joking that it wouldn’t buy me much in the way of beer. I showed it to Alberta and John, and they bought my beer. I had the fight with Clinton right after that. So I’m thinking it fell out of my pocket.”

  There was an odd expression on his face, as if he didn’t quite believe that. “It fell out of your pocket. Is that even possible?”

  “I didn’t think it was, but here in this town all sorts of impossible things happen,” he joked. “I’ve got practically no powers here. The coin doesn’t even seem to be working. I guess it could have fallen out. Outside of Accident, I would have figured nothing outside of magic would get that coin out of my possession.”

  “So someone picked it up. Cl
inton, John, Alberta, Shelby, or any random patron who happened to walk through the parking lot and see a brass coin in the gravel.”

  He nodded. “Picked it up. Evidently came here. Dropped it.”

  I eyed the deadfall. “Dropped it on the other side of that mess of downed trees and brambles. This is where the break in the wards was, and where we found your coin.”

  “And this has nothing to do with Clinton’s disappearance, aside from the intersecting timelines?” Lucien asked.

  “I’m not sure.” Was the break in the wards and the coin related to Clinton’s disappearance and possible exsanguination? As it stood, all I had were some rather suspicious coincidences.

  “Clearly Clinton wasn’t stabbed, or whatever, here or you and Brownwyn would have seen blood,” Lucien conjectured. “I lost my coin, or someone picked my pocket, while I was fighting with Clinton. Coincidence? Or not?”

  “A lost coin, a missing werewolf, and a broken ward. I’ve got no idea,” I confessed. “Wards don’t usually break, and it’s just weird that your coin would be here.”

  “Think someone planted it here?” he asked. “Like the blood in my hotel room? They knew you’d come to investigate a break, and figured they’d pin this on me as well?”

  I shrugged. “The blood in the hotel room wasn’t done by someone used to manufacturing a crime scene according to Ophelia. If this was intentional, then it strikes me as a bit amateur as well. I mean, why drop the coin on the other side of the deadfall and the wards, making it look as if you’d escaped, when whoever did this clearly wanted it to appear that you murdered Clinton in your hotel room?”

  “Maybe they were going for me killing Clinton in my hotel room, then dragging him all the way across town and throwing him over the deadfall to break the wards, then climbing through, dropping my coin, and dragging Clinton’s body off into the woods.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” I gestured to the deadfall. “Besides, a bloody werewolf body isn’t going to break the wards. Werewolves as well as any of the supernatural residents of the town, are able to come and go through the wards without any hinderance. They suffer a slight degradation in power within the city limits, but that’s it. And being dead or covered in blood doesn’t change that.”

  “So what would break the wards like this?” Lucien asked.

  “Bronwyn and I figured it was a fae. Pixies. Elves. That sort of thing. They can come and go without problem, but their magic can really screw stuff up. The easiest explanation is that a fairy or some type of fae was doing magic, or carrying an enchanted object across the wards, and basically it was like blowing a fuse.”

  Lucien looked down at his ankle monitor. “An enchanted object like this?”

  “With fae, who knows? Maybe. That device was made by Bronwyn, so the magic is compatible with the wards. The wards trigger the anklet and keep you from leaving or passing through them. Fae magic and their enchanted objects are different and not compatible with what we witches do. Sparks fly when our magic gets together, and not in a good way.”

  “It was dark when you were here last. Maybe something got overlooked.” Lucien jumped up on top of the deadfall. I felt something like a tickle in the back of my brain, then watched as the demon bounced off the invisible wall of the ward to land inelegantly on his feet once more beside me.

  “Can you take this damned thing off?” he gestured to his pant leg. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

  There was a magical “key” that was kept at the police station as well as one with the sheriff. Bronwyn could deactivate it with a word since she was the one that enchanted the device.

  And so could I. I’d grown up with Bronwyn, shared a bedroom with her. I knew her magic as well as I knew my own. Of all my sisters, hers was the magic I felt the most in tune with.

  I eyed the silver peeking out from under his pants’ hem. In the last twenty-four hours I’d had more doings with magic than I had in the last year. I could lie and just let him wear the darned thing until the law removed it. I could insist he just sprout those wings of his and fly over the wards. I’m pretty sure if he wanted to, he could smash right through the wards. He was a demon. I didn’t know much about their magic, but from what I’d read, I bet it made fae magic look like a kid’s birthday party entertainment. But him smashing through the wards would mean my sisters and I would need to repair them. And I’d really hate to explain to Bronwyn that the reason we were doing all this work on a Saturday morning was because I was too damned lazy to take her enchanted anklet off this demon.

  “Hold still.” I knelt down, trying not to get my knees in the dirt as I felt around the silver band for the invisible clasp. With a word the device clicked free, two pieces of metal in my hands. Lucien reached down to rub his leg while I tossed the device in the car. By the time I’d returned, the demon was on top of the deadfall. There was a tiny scrap of fabric in his hand.

  “Think if you got this to your sister Ophelia, she could tell us who it belongs to?” he asked.

  I took it from him and squinted. How the hell had he found this in a huge pile of branches and mud? It looked to be from a pair of blue jeans. I’d been wearing a pantsuit last night, and hadn’t climbed the deadfall. Bronwyn had been wearing tan Carhartt pants. But who was to say this hadn’t been left here weeks or months ago, and had nothing to do with Clinton Dickskin’s disappearance?

  “I’ll check with Ophelia,” I told the demon. I’d check with her later, just in case this didn’t go anywhere. She was probably finally getting some sleep after her night on-call at the firehouse and I wouldn’t want to wake her for what might end up being a dead end.

  “Any blood or anything?” I called up. “How sensitive is a demon’s nose? Werewolf-quality? Because I’m hoping you can grab a scent and follow a trail.”

  He continued to slowly make his way across the deadfall. “Not in my skillset. Can we call in a werewolf though? They’ve got an interest in finding out where Clinton is. Maybe they can check for his scent here and track him, or his body, down.”

  “You heard Dallas. They think he’s sleeping it off somewhere and don’t care enough to go find him. Maybe if he doesn’t show up in a week or two, they’ll go looking.” Actually, they might not even in that case. Clinton had a handful of supporters, sycophants who felt he was going to be their next alpha and wanted to lay the groundwork for their own self-advancement. Other than that, a good bit of the pack hated him. Of course, a good bit of the pack hated Dallas as well. That seemed to be the case with werewolf packs. There wasn’t a lot of love going on there, even among mated pairs.

  “Find anything else?” I asked.

  He scrambled down the deadfall and held something out to me. “Only this.”

  It was a seed bead. Gold with a swirl of green. And the magic of it crawled up my fingers clear to my wrist. Fae magic.

  And suddenly I realized I’d been ignoring what was right in front of me the whole time.

  “We need to go visit Alberta,” I told Lucien.

  “Why?” He looked down at the bead as I held it up.

  “Because she’s a troll. And trolls are fae. And I’m pretty sure this bead is from her bracelet.”

  Chapter 15

  Lucien

  When Cassie had said the troll lived under a bridge, I’d thought…I don’t know, maybe something like one of those homeless tent-cities between the concrete supports of a highway overpass? I hadn’t expected an adorable stone bungalow tucked in beside a creek. There was indeed a bridge that went over the back part of the roof and over the creek before winding through the woods on the other side, but it looked as if it rarely saw any traffic.

  “My favorite color is blue,” Cassie shouted as she knocked on the door. I must have given her a perplexed look because she turned to me with a grin and told me it was from a movie.

  Alberta opened the door, clearly nervous.

  Cassie held out the bead. “You broke the wards, Alberta.”

  The troll squirmed. “There’s l
ots of people that have beads like that,” she countered.

  “I did a spell. It’s yours.”

  I shot Cassie an appreciative glance. She’d lied.

  Alberta clearly didn’t know that. She looked down at her feet. “It’s not against the rules for me to leave the town. I can come and go as I please. Not my fault the wards broke. They do that sometimes with fae.”

  “With fae who are in the middle of casting a spell, or carrying a fae-enchanted object that’s been activated,” Cassie countered. “What were you doing Alberta?”

  “None of your business.” The troll tried to close the door and I stuck my foot in to block it.

  “Does it have something to do with this?” I showed her my coin.

  Her eyes widened. “I didn’t steal it. I promise I didn’t steal it. I found it and it’s mine. I was taking it to my special place. That’s why I crossed the wards. I didn’t steal. And I get to come and go whenever I please. I did nothing wrong.”

  Cagey. Defensive. One didn’t have to be a demon to know that this troll had been up to something she really didn’t want Cassie knowing about. And I got the feeling it wasn’t about my coin either.

  “I don’t want people to find my treasures, you know?” Alberta continued. “Especially the fairies. They think I keep everything here under my bridge, and I know sometimes they search for stuff, so I have a secret hiding place.”

  Cassie got an unreadable, carefully blank expression on her face that I was certain worked in the courtroom. It definitely worked on me. “Why have your treasure place outside the town limits? On the other side of the wards?”

  Alberta squirmed. “No one looks there. And my magic is full-force outside the wards, so I can safeguard my special place and the wards don’t interfere with that.”

  I assumed that meant it would be hard for anyone to find outside of a witch casting a divination spell. Even another fae would most likely struggle to see through a troll’s glamour.