His Dark Magic

by Pat Esden

  Her mind rushed back to the moments before the Shade had been sucked into the stone. He hadn’t had the staff with him. “You have to tell the High Council. It’ll help prove Rhianna’s guilt.”

  “Maybe. But I’m going to talk to my grandfather first, see what he thinks. I’m all for telling the Council everything. I intend to be totally aboveboard.”

  Warmth radiated inside Chloe. She slid to her feet and smoothed her hands down his arms. He was an amazing man. Strong. Sincere. He also was another person she owed an apology to.

  “I—um—” She wasn’t sure how to put it without offending him. “When you were downtown with Rhianna, for a while, I wasn’t sure you hadn’t given in to the magic. You left the photos for us to follow, but I thought they might be a trap.”

  He wiped his hands over his head. “I wasn’t sure myself for a while. Athena…” His voice trailed off, profound sadness shadowing his eyes.

  With all her heart Chloe wanted to switch subjects and make him smile, to tease him and see his gorgeous dimples form. But she couldn’t disrespect the intensity of the truth he was having to face. The sister he loved deeply had been murdered, and by his father’s ex-lover.

  Tears wet the corners of Chloe’s eyes. “I don’t know what to say. But we’ll figure out what happened to Athena.”

  He pulled her into an embrace, leaning down so his cheek was against hers. His voice quieted. “To tell you the truth, for months it’s felt like I’d lost the sister I knew. Now I know why.”

  She hugged him harder, rubbing his back. “I’m so sorry, Devlin.”

  “Rhianna was right. I deluded myself.” Tears dampened her cheek, moisture that she knew had come from his eyes. He lifted his hand, his voice hitching as he no doubt wiped his eyes. “Athena deserved better. She was wonderful. The best.”

  For a long moment, they held each other, even the hallway around them heavy with silence. Finally, he stepped from the embrace. The corners of his mouth lifted in a shaky smile. “I don’t know about you, but I’m thirsty and starving. You want something to eat?”

  “Sure. Snacks, breakfast…anything’s fine by me.” She suspected he wanted a few minutes alone to get himself together more than food.

  “Good. I’ll go see what I can find,” he said.

  She watched him lumber down the hallway, past all the patients’ rooms and around the corner toward the nurses’ station. So much of what he’d said was right, mostly that nothing was going to be the same.

  Her phone chirped and Chloe answered quickly, not wanting to disturb anyone. No doubt it was Juliet or someone from the coven.

  “Chloe?” her dad’s voice said.

  Dread rolled through her and for a minute she couldn’t begin to think of anything to say. She dropped into a chair and rocked forward. “Hi. Ah. What a surprise.”

  “I bet it is.” He sounded tense, even more than usual. He knew. No question about it. “Your mother and I are very disappointed. After all our warnings you had to go and get involved with that coven. What’s wrong with your head?”

  “They aren’t like you think. They are—”

  “I can just imagine. I’m not a fool, Chloe. I’ve heard about the Marsh boy.” His voice went as hard and cold as it had been that night five years ago at the Vice-Chancellor’s house. “This time your impulsive, irresponsible behavior has gone too far. You’ve risked exposure of our entire community.”

  “You don’t know anything about what really happened. And don’t talk to me like a child—”

  “We’ll discuss this further when I get there. Your mother’s driving me to the airport at noontime. Once I get to Burlington, I’ll grab a taxi and be at your place by three. I expect you to be there.”

  She clenched her teeth, anger boiling. When he got here, he’d demand she drop out of her classes and come home with him. But this was where she belonged. This was her life. “Don’t worry about the taxi. I’ll have someone pick you up at the airport. I’m not going to let you condemn my friends—my coven—without even meeting them.”

  “Chloe,” he said warningly.

  “See you at the airport, Dad. Goodbye.” She hung up.

  She stood there frozen for a moment. It seemed like she should feel shaken, terrified that she’d be facing him in a few hours. Shamed that she’d screwed up again. But instead a powerful sense of contentment had stolen over her. Relief that she’d spoken her mind. He might not like the coven or that she’d chosen to be with Devlin. But that didn’t matter. She’d found her place and stood up for it, last night against the Shade and again just now.

  Chloe took a deep breath and smiled. It felt genuinely good.

  The door to Keshari’s room opened and the doctor came out.

  “Excuse me,” Chloe said. She tried not to limp from the cuts and tight bandage as she walked over to him. “Is it all right if I go in and see Keshari?”

  He scanned her, as if assessing her various wounds, perhaps wondering if she was another victim of the club fire. Seemingly satisfied, he nodded. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you.”

  Chloe opened the door and went inside. Keshari lay in the closest bed. Her long braids were gone, her hair short, frizzled, and hooked behind her ears. A gauze bandage covered part of her neck and jaw. Another one peeked out from the neckline of her jonnie. Chloe wasn’t sure if it was the low light in the room or her imagination, but Keshari’s complexion appeared a little mottled. But mostly she looked tired.

  Next to the bed Keshari’s mother and an elderly Tibetan woman sat in stiff chairs. A man stood nearby; judging by his age and looks Chloe figured he was Keshari’s father.

  Keshari’s eyes lit up and she smiled broadly. “Chloe, I am so happy to see you.”

  Chloe hobbled over to them, her heart soaring from the warmth of everyone’s smiles. “I’m so glad you’re okay. You are, right?”

  Keshari nodded. “They want to keep me longer for observation. But, yes, I feel very blessed.”

  Her mother glided to her feet. “Thank you for coming, Chloe.” She dipped her head. “Would you mind if Keshari’s grandmother, father, and I left the two of you alone? It has been a long night. We could use something warm to eat.”

  “Take your time. I can stay as long as you’d like,” Chloe said. She had no idea how much of the real story Keshari’s family knew, but the welcoming tone of their words and magic was unmistakable and certainly not what she’d expected.

  Keshari’s mom helped her grandma across the room and her dad held the door for them to go through. Once the door closed, Chloe sat down and scooted the chair closer to Keshari’s bed. She lowered her eyes. “I’m not sure your mom is right about me being a good friend. I left you in the club.”

  Keshari reached out for her hand. “You got to the stone in time, yes?”

  Chloe nodded. She pressed Keshari’s hand between both of hers. “He’s gone.”

  “Then everything is good.” Keshari’s eyes brightened, a teasing twinkle. “Though maybe you owe me a coffee once I get out of here.”

  “Definitely.” Chloe laughed and squeezed her hand. Then she took a deep breath, drew up her magic, and let it flow down her arms and out gently through her fingertips, lending Keshari as much strength as she could.

  Chapter 31

  Carve a pledge on the flesh of a fox. Bury it in a graveyard on the thirteenth stroke after midnight. It will not rot. It will not waste. It will remain a gift, a promise between friends.

  —Rhianna Davies’s Book of Shadows

  Chloe sat in Devlin’s apartment with her feet up on the coffee table, staring blankly out the window at the garden. On the way back from the hospital, she stopped at her apartment long enough to give Juliet and Greta a vial of the cure and to change into nicer clothes, her skinny jeans, raspberry top, and canary-yellow gilet. She now felt moderately rejuvenated, not bad considering when they g
ot back to the complex they found Chandler had returned and the police were questioning her about the reportedly stolen monkeys and the accident involving her Cherokee. To make matters worse, Devlin’s grandfather was on his way over from New York State. Still, none of those things unsettled Chloe as much as counting down the minutes until her father’s plane landed.

  “Have I mentioned you look fantastic?” Devlin said. “That outfit reminds me of the first night you came here.” He smiled, dimples forming. “I’m not going to lie, I enjoyed taking it off you.”

  She slapped his leg. “I was passed out.”

  “I didn’t touch. But you can’t have expected me not to look.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet. “Come on, we have plenty of time before we have to go to the airport. Let’s get some fresh air.”

  She let him drape a sweater over her shoulders. He might have been doing a good job of masking the heavier emotions inside him with a pretense of cheerfulness, but she knew the air and exercise were a relief he desperately craved.

  With Henry pulling on his leash, they headed out by their usual route, the gate and path. Now that they didn’t have to worry about avoiding cops, she was curious to see if any signs of last night’s battle remained.

  At first she didn’t notice much, trampled grass, pieces of scrap metal monkeys being carted off by curiosity seekers…But, as they neared the middle of the circle and she got an unobstructed view of the stone, a chill swept the nape of her neck and across her scalp.

  The stone’s rough surface now bore a shadowy outline, the shape of a twisted man. It wasn’t easy to see like the figure on the Shroud of Turin. This was a faint shape, a whisper of a man. If she hadn’t studied the stone before, she might have passed it off as the glitter of darker minerals within the gray granite. But she couldn’t justify this by calling it natural. There was no question about it: this was a scar left behind by the Shade’s passing.

  “Monkey!” a little boy shouted, grabbing a tin cup that probably had been a monkey’s cap. His sister came running and tried to steal it from him. They raced around the stone.

  Chloe threaded her fingers with Devlin’s. Without a word, she let Henry led them away from the stones and to the water’s edge. Waves washed the sand at their feet, and crashed over the rocks where she and Keshari had summoned Nimue only last night.

  “Zeus is going to talk to the Council about Athena and Rhianna,” Devlin said. He paused, half-turning away and looking out across the lake. The tension in his voice told her he wasn’t pleased. “He’s going to ask for their help to cover up Athena’s disappearance—to keep the police out of it.”

  “You don’t think that’s a good idea?”

  “I don’t think we have a choice about that. But I also don’t think the Council is going to take his request lightly. After all, this isn’t our first high priestess to die under questionable circumstances. There was Saille Webster…”

  As Devlin went into details that Chloe hadn’t known about Saille Webster—the Circle’s cherished high priestess who had died in the nineteen-eighties—Chloe’s thoughts wandered to Rhianna. She’d been a young teenager back then and a member of the Northern Circle. While everyone else was arguing about whether Saille was murdered or not, Rhianna had become pregnant and lost the baby. She’d been engaged to, then deserted by, Devlin’s father. There had to have been a lot of shame and isolation that went along with those things. In a way, it was the perfect setup for Rhianna to become a victim of the Shade’s temptations—or had he come first and then the coven’s troubles began?

  “Stop that,” Devlin said, as Henry yanked against the leash, even harder than normal.

  Henry glanced back, his eyes bright. He whined, then barked insistently.

  “All right, you win.” Devlin let go of the leash and Henry bounded along the edge of the water until he came to a rope of seaweed. He nosed it, looked at them, and barked again.

  Chloe saw it first, sparkling against the stones and sand. Her charm bracelet.

  “I can’t believe it.” She ran over and scooped it up. “I gave it to Nimue as an offering. She was wearing it.”

  “Looks like you’ve made a powerful ally,” Devlin said.

  “I guess. I’m stunned.” Nimue certainly hadn’t seemed like the sort to give back gifts. But here it was. Amazing. Overwhelmingly so.

  She looped the bracelet over her wrist. Devlin stepped closer and reached for her hand. “Let me do that for you.”

  As his fingers warmed the inside of her wrist, she looked out over the lake. She expected to see a glint of light in the water or the gesture of a slender hand. But there were only blue shimmering waves and the distant view of sailboats and a slow-moving ferry.

  She brought her gaze back to Devlin. Still holding her wrist, he lifted his eyes to hers and moved in even closer. The air filled with the purr of his magic. His hand brushed her cheek. She didn’t need her intuition to tell her what was coming next. She just closed her eyes and waited for the kiss.

  He stepped back, cool air coming between them.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, opening her eyes.

  A wind-blown strand of hair brushed across his worried face. “You realize, no matter what Zeus does, the Council won’t overlook what’s happened. The Circle violated too many laws this time.”

  She glanced down, not wanting him to see the fear in her eyes. “When the time comes, we’ll deal with the Council and any investigators they send. Together. You and me, and the Circle.”

  “You do realize it’ll happen soon.”

  “I know.” She put her arms around him, resting her head against his chest as she stared out to where the lake’s shimmering blue water was shading to stormy-gray.

  Up Next in the Northern Circle Coven Series

  Things She’s Seen

  Prologue

  I walked in the mist between worlds, a ghost among the dead, a child more lost than those I freed.

  —Journal of Emily Adams. New Dawn House. Albany, New York

  Before

  Slush splattered the police cruiser’s windows. Em focused on the schwup-shuwupp of the windshield wipers and tried not to think about the stench of vomit coming from the seat beside her.

  Her stomach cramped. She folded forward. The floor. She needed to hit the floor this time. But the target was a narrow space, and the wooziness in her head and the handcuffs biting into her wrists made it impossible for her to lean far enough forward.

  Relax. Breathe deep, she told herself. Sit still. Stay quiet.

  She swallowed back the taste of bile and turned slowly toward the side window, swiveling only her shoulders so the seat wouldn’t squeak and the handcuffs wouldn’t rattle. Beyond the slush-coated glass, motels flickered into view, darkness returning as they passed. An inn materialized. A life-size statue of a horse. Old-fashioned streetlights glimmered in the haze. Wet snow. Empty streets…

  Her head bobbed, eyes closing. Her thoughts wavered toward oblivion. How much had she drank anyway? A bottle. Two. Wine. Vodka. Gin. She remembered them all. She remembered. A concert. They were going to one. Or everyone else had. No money. No ticket. Tired. Cold. A stretch limousine. Unlocked. She needed to lay down. Sleep for a minute. She’d be gone before the owners returned. The limousine’s overhead light flashed on. Someone screamed. Security. Police. She didn’t remember having drugs on her. No needles. Never needles. The cop had asked her about that.

  Her forehead thumped the window, snapping her back to her senses for a moment. Slush and haze. Slush and haze. The rhythm of the windshield wipers. The world dipping and reeling—

  A voice touched her ear. You stand at a crossroads, my child.

  She jolted fully awake, her sixth sense screaming for her to look out the window.

  In the haze, a ghost stood on the sidewalk at the entry to a city park. Congress Park, the sign said. An older w
oman. Modern. Not someone from the distant past. Statuesque. Stylish coat. Boots. A cashmere scarf flowed out from around her neck. Her gray hair piled on top of her head, defiantly exposed to the elements.

  The ghost of a witch.

  Em knew that’s what the woman was with profound clarity, a lucidness that defied her drunken state. A lucidness that was as strong as Em’s gift for seeing and speaking with the dead.

  The witch’s gaze locked onto Em’s—and across the distance she offered Em a choice to either be accepted or refused in that frozen moment. No second chances. This was it. She could stay on the road she was traveling or take a new one. No promise the new road would be easy. It wouldn’t be. But what Em chose to do would make all the difference.

  Not just for her, but for the ghost on the sidewalk and others as well, the living and the dead.

  Chapter 1

  A ghost followed me home from the school bus stop. We had a home back then, not an endless string of hotel rooms. I can’t recall the ghost’s name. Mine was Kate, back before I became Violet Grace. Before the beginning. The middle. And the end.

  —Journal of Emily Adams, age 22

  Memory from second grade. Massachusetts.

  190 days later

  Em lengthened her strides, hurrying to get ahead of the crowd leaving the A.A. meeting. The last thing she wanted was for someone to offer her a ride home. Not that she didn’t like the group. Since she’d left the halfway house in Upstate New York less than a month ago and moved to Vermont, they’d made her feel more than welcome.

  She picked up her pace, jogging through the slush, across a narrow street and down the sidewalk. She totally got why they didn’t like the idea of a woman walking home alone at night, especially someone as small and skinny as her. But she’d lived on the streets in much larger cities. She knew how to handle herself. She had a phone—and a knife, if worst came to worst. Besides, walking in the dark and slush was a good reminder of the night she’d bottomed out, of what life had been like before she chose to live sober, a choice that had led her to join the Northern Circle coven and live here in Burlington at their complex. On top of that, there was an even more vital reason for her to walk alone. During the A.A. meeting a spirit had reached out to her, asking for help. She needed to locate it and find out what was going on.