The Rose Rabbit stood beside me, and his face changed, shimmered, the scars fading.
“We call upon our ancient power,” we said.
A light expanded on the throne, and the doctor – how had we ever mistaken her for a doctor? – sat upon the great stone seat. Her hands clenched its arms. Her hair grew long, flowing in waves down her back. Her teeth sharpened. Her eyes enlarged.
“Laudine, we bind you in your fairy bower,” we shouted.
“No!” the unseelie screamed.
“You are bound, you are bound, you are bound.” Our words rose in a roaring wind. The banners brightened, snapping. The candles blew out but the light grew, golden sunlight pouring through the high windows.
And then we were in the hospital room, holding hands, my back to the bed, Jayce behind me, and Karin beneath the covers.
Unconscious, Steve Woodley lay on the floor, and the gun lay beside his hand.
I moved to grab it.
He gasped, raising himself up. His cheeks and eyes grew hollow. His silver hair yellowed. Deep furrows appeared on his face and hands. He wheezed and collapsed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Steve Woodley gave a rambling, raving confession to Connor in the emergency room.
The sheriff opted not to take the multiple murderer’s statement herself. She was too busy with the returnees from the Bell and Thistle. The building never returned, but the people inside had emerged from the ground like gnomes, blinking in the moonlight. Others crawled from the earth as well – Nick’s sister and other hikers who’d disappeared over the years.
Like the other missing persons, Nick’s sister, Emily, had no memory of her “abduction.” But she’d developed a dread fear of closed places, anemia, and what the doctors were calling PTSD. After so many years missing, her return to the real world was rocky. But she had Nick and her parents, and we were hopeful the nightmares and phobias would fade.
Spinning theories, reporters descended on the town. A cult. Hallucinatory gases. The speculation on the Internet was wilder – UFOs were high on the list. But none of the returned could remember where they’d been, and those who did remember could only recall odd fragments.
Forty-eight hours after the returned climbed from their underground prison, a missing persons report was filed for Doctor Evelyn Toeller. The police seemed to believe Woodley was responsible for her disappearance as well.
I let them.
The FBI agent went home, but she cornered me in the bookstore before she left. With all the journalists and conspiracy tourists, business was booming and the store crowded.
Agent Manaj laid a book of my poems on the counter and handed me her credit card. “So all’s well that ends well. You should be pleased.”
“Of course I am. We have our town back in one piece.” I ran her card and slid the chap book into a thin paper bag.
“Not quite. Your doctor’s still missing.” She gave me a long look. “And there are a lot of holes in a lot of stories. Yours included.”
“I didn’t have a story. I wasn’t any more involved in the disappearances than you.”
“And the reappearances?”
Choosing silence, I handed her the receipt to sign. She bent her head over it, her ebony hair cascading forward and hiding her face.
“The people from the Fox and Thistle are home,” I said, hearing the pleading note in my voice. “Do the details matter?”
“They matter.” She paid and strode out the door, leaving me with the uneasy feeling that this wasn’t over. At least not for her.
Three weeks later, Connor took me to dinner at a restaurant high in the mountains. Afterward, we walked a path by an alpine lake. The Sierra darkness was complete, the moon not yet risen, our only light from the stars. They reflected off the black lake, making their own miniature universe.
He clasped my hand. “How’s your sister?”
“Karin’s blood pressure is normal and everything seems okay. But the doctors are still watching her. They don’t trust her recovery.” But I did. The unseelie’s power was broken. The evidence was all over Doyle. A sudden outbreak of acne had struck the local high school. A small red bump had even appeared on my forehead, and Jayce’s hair had gone frizzy. Darla had won two thousand dollars in the lottery. And Steve’s aunt, aged well over a hundred, had died gently in her sleep.
Karin wept at her funeral. She felt guilty. We all did. The town didn’t look quite so perfect anymore. Bricks tumbled from their walls. Paint peeled and flaked off.
But we were all free.
Connor led me down a short set of steps to a narrow beach that gleamed faintly in the starlight. A log lay fallen on the sand, and we sat on it.
A fish jumped, plopping into the water.
Connor pulled me close, and I leaned my head on his shoulder. We sat there for a long while, not speaking, the Milky Way a glittering path above us.
The moon rose, a flash of gold against the mountain ridge. Inexorably, it rose higher until it hung, pendulous, in the black velvet night and washed away the nearby stars.
He drew a deep breath, his chest expanding and falling against me. “Tell me now what really happened.”
And I did. Everything.
He didn’t laugh or stiffen with skepticism or argue the rationalist’s point of view. He simply listened and nodded. When I’d finished, he pulled me close again.
“So why did the fairy flood your bookstore with customers that day? What was she trying to keep you from?”
“I don’t know,” I said, uneasy. I didn’t like not knowing, but Toeller was gone, so it probably didn’t matter.
Probably.
“How did Woodley figure it out?” he asked. “How did he know what was going on with the doctor?”
“He’d been around a long time, long enough to see people weren’t aging normally. Mike figured it out. I suspect other people knew as well – people like your grandmother. But how do you tell others there’s a fairy in town without sounding crazy? And what do you do about it even if you have figured out Doyle was wrapped in fairy magic?”
He rested his chin on the top of my head. “Woodley thought he had the answer – if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. And you’re right. Everyone thinks he’s crazy. His defense attorney is bringing in a shrink to prove it.”
“Mike wasn’t crazy.” He’d understood what was happening long before we had.
“He was a good man,” Connor said.
A lump formed in my throat. God, I missed him.
“So life will return to normal.” He brushed a kiss across my jawbone.
“I don’t think you can say that. Doyle’s never been normal, so for us, everything from here on out is new territory.”
“And now you’re rich.”
The first edition by William Blake had proven to be authentic. We’d found several others in his private collection that were also quite valuable. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with the money yet, but I had a vague idea that Doyle would need some help. And I had a bookstore to run. “Is that why you’re dating me? For my riches?”
He laughed into my hair. “I just want discounts on the books.”
We kissed, and I knew, though nothing would ever be the same, everything would be all right.
And that is how three sisters came to live happily, if not ever after.
<<<>>>
Ready to read more? Check out the novella, Spirit on Fire. Or poems telling the story from the Rose Rabbit’s point of view here.
And if you enjoy the spells below, check out my FREE 5-Day Kitchen Witchery course here.
Shamanic Dreams Sachet
Shamans travel while waking, and they travel in dreams. Make this simple, intention-inflused sachet to make it easier to sleep and dream.
You’ll need:
A lightweight, muslin bag (4-6 inches tall);
Dried lavender;
Dried rose buds;
1 tsp dried mugwort;
Lavender essential oil (10-12 drops
).
In a bowl, gently mix the essential oil, lavender and rose buds, while concentrating on your magical intention. It could be restful sleep, or hearing your inner voice in your sleep, or safe dream journeying, for example. Pour the herb mixture into the muslin bag. Keep it near your pillow at night, where you can smell it. When the mixture no longer has any scent, you can refresh it with more essential oil and intention.
Welcome the Day Ritual
Shamanic witches like Lenore are in touch with nature’s rhythms and grateful for the opportunity to spend time on this planet. Start your day right by looking outdoors and saying “Good morning,” to the sun. (Just don’t look at the sun directly, or you’ll hurt your eyes). Take a moment to feel gratitude for the coming day. Before you go to bed, say “Good night,” to the moon and take some time to reflect on the good things you experienced during the day.
About the Author
Kirsten Weiss authors genre-bending stories of mystery, suspense, and enchantment.
She worked overseas for over fourteen years, in the fringes of the former USSR and deep in the Afghan war zone. Her experiences abroad not only gave her glimpses into the darker side of human nature, but also sparked an interest in the effects of mysticism and mythology, and how both are woven into our daily lives.
Now based in San Mateo, CA, she writes paranormal mysteries, blending her experiences and imagination to create a vivid world of magic and mayhem.
Kirsten has never met a dessert she didn’t like, and her guilty pleasures are watching Ghost Whisperer reruns and drinking good wine.
You can connect with Kirsten through the social media sites below, and if the mood strikes you, send her an e-mail at [email protected].
Follow her on Twitter: @KirstenWeiss
Check out her story world boards on Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/kirstenweiss/
Sign up for her newsletter for cool free stuff and book updates at: kirstenweiss.com
Please check out these other great misterio press series:
Karma’s A Bitch: The Pet Psychic Mysteries by Shannon Esposito
Multiple Motives: The Kate Huntington Mysteries by Kassandra Lamb
Maui Widow Waltz: The Islands of Aloha Mysteries by JoAnn Bassett
The Metaphysical Detective: The Riga Hayworth Paranormal Mysteries by Kirsten Weiss
Dangerous and Unseemly: The Concordia Wells Historical Mysteries by K.B. Owen
Murder, Honey: The Carol Sabala Mysteries by Vinnie Hansen
Steam and Sensibility, the Sensibility Grey Steampunk Mysteries by Kirsten Weiss
To Kill A Labrador, the Marcia Banks and Buddy Mysteries by Kassandra Lamb
Plus even more great mysteries/thrillers in the misterio press bookstore.
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright ©2016 Kirsten Weiss. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites and their content.
Visit the author website to sign up for updates on upcoming books and fun, free stuff: KirstenWeiss.com
Cover art by WickedSmartDesigns.com
Alternate cover by Zack Weiss
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites and their content.
misterio press / ebook edition November, 2016
ISBN-13: 978-1-944767-20-4
ISBN-10: 1-944767-20-7
Table of Contents
Books by Kirsten Weiss
WHAT CAME BEFORE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Shamanic Dreams Sachet
Welcome the Day Ritual
About the Author
Copyright
Down Page 26