The forest fell silent. I slowed, pulse leaping, and the air grew thick. My lungs compressed. The creature’s presence pressed against my skin, a scarlet fury, an arctic hunger.
I reached for Karin’s sleeve.
The sense of the creature vanished like smoke. A stellar jay cried, shrill, and shot from a pine. Snow from the branch whumped to the ground.
I stopped short, looked to my sister.
Her head turned, and she scanned the undergrowth. “I don't see it,” she whispered, gun extended. “You?”
“No.” I jogged forward, pushing my senses outward, feeling with my outer aura. The ground flattened, the creek brackish where it broadened, turning the soil fetid.
I sensed sap in the trees withdrawing for the winter. A rabbit burrowing beneath the chill roots of a pine. The weight of a murder of crows, roosting in the nearby yard of a tall, pale Victorian. But the thing we’d tracked was gone.
Annoyed and a little relieved, I huffed out my breath and turned in place. “Where did it go?”
Karin cursed. “It couldn't have just disappeared.”
“Well, it did.”
“No,” she said, “I mean it couldn't have. Not naturally. Not from us.”
And then I remembered all the reasons why I didn’t want Karin hunting magical creatures. She wouldn’t stop if it killed her. Last summer, one of her hunts nearly had. “We don't know for sure—”
“Jayce. I'm okay,” she said quietly, tucking the gun in the rear waistband of her slacks. “I'm not crazy. I won't go crazy. But you and Lenore pretending you don’t need me, that nothing’s wrong—”
“Sucks,” I finished for her. “I know. I get it.” I tested my aura again but couldn't find the creature. Was it really gone? My skin twitched with unease. “You want me to say it? Fine. We need you. But it’s my job to take the crazy chances, okay? You’ve got a kid now.”
We walked down the trail.
“Maybe it didn’t get Candace,” Karin said without much hope in her voice.
I glanced over my shoulder, ears straining. “She was the only one living in that house.”
“It doesn't matter who was there, does it? This sort of death is awful in any case.”
“But whatever we’re following didn’t kill Alex. Alex was killed first,” I said, “then mauled.” And eaten. Acid burned my throat. “Alex was shot. The killer’s human.”
Would the police release the cause of David's death? I'd have to tackle Lenore’s boyfriend, Connor, to find out if David had been shot first as well.
Karin stopped. “You're right. A gun is a human weapon. Though we’ve known things from Fairy that were perfectly capable of using them.”
A branch cracked nearby.
I stilled, staring hard into the forest. My hand clenched on the flashlight.
Karin reached inside her coat and behind her, her eyes wide. “Is that…?” she whispered.
I pushed my senses outward and detected only trees and mortal animals, earth and water.
Turning the flashlight in my hands, I shook my head. “I don’t think so, but let’s get out of here.” Trekking into the woods without Lenore, without a plan, had been a bad idea. I was surprised Karin had gone along with it.
I cleared my throat. “But whatever ate those people wasn't human. I mean, the cops think they're after an animal. But we're dealing with a human killer and something else, a scavenger.”
Karin shook her head. “It has to be more than that. There must be some connection between the murders and the creature beyond the convenience of a fresh body to dine on.”
“You're talking about magic connecting them,” I said slowly. “But if this thing we trailed is a scavenger, it could just be convenience, as you say.” I felt my way forward. “I mean, maybe the thing is drawn to violent deaths. Or dead humans. Or just lots of blood.”
“We know whatever's out there is no animal. One way or another, magic is involved.” She made a grunt of exasperation.
“But it acts like an animal.”
“Not completely,” she said. “It ignored the noise of all that construction to get at Alex.”
I remembered that sense of watchful malice and shivered. “No, not completely.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Customers don't confide in baristas the way they do bartenders. But a lot of people came through Ground, including cops. Everyone was talking about Candace, and I was listening hard.
Susan Witsend, a local B&B owner, took the paper cup from me and peered into it mournfully. “Poor Candace. I didn't know her well, but I can't imagine losing her husband and then…” She shook her head, her blond hair spilling about her shoulders. “I heard the Euclid family next door to Candace’s moved to a hotel. They're saying the mountain lion returned to Candace's, because he knew there was food there after… Alex.”
My brow furrowed. I hoped Angela was taking extra precautions. If Susan was right and that thing was returning to the location of prior feeds, Angela’s house might be a target. I'd need to set up magical protection for her, just in case.
“You don't think Angela's in any danger, do you?” the B&B owner asked, echoing my thoughts.
“I hope not.” Breath quickening, I brushed a spot of cocoa powder from the sleeve of my slinky, V-neck navy sweater. It glittered with silver sparkles. I believe in dressing for the life I wanted, and amidst the recent horror and dread, I wanted sparkle. Maybe the twinkle lights had inspired me.
Maybe I was in denial.
Susan shook herself. “I guess we all need to be extra careful. Good thing I just installed more high-tech security. But guests are coming in and out of Wits' End at all hours. I wish I could impose a curfew to keep people safe.” She brightened. “On the other hand, two of the attacks happened during the daytime, when no one's home but me.” Her face fell. “Oh.”
“Wits' End is on the opposite side of Doyle from the attacks,” I said. “I'm sure you'll be fine.”
She flushed. “Yeah. Right. It's stupid to worry.”
Susan was too polite to say it, but I guessed the most recent killing had scared off some of her guests. I'd already gotten an earful from the hotel down the street.
As I’d been doing all day, I reached out with my senses. I didn't feel a strong connection between the B&B owner and Candace. But… Hello! I did sense Arsen Holliday. Was Susan the woman he loved? And how could I use my powers for good and nudge them together?
Beneath the counter, I made a quick gesture and sent a happiness spell her way. I liked Susan. If I had time after closing, I'd stop by Wits' End and put magical protection in place for her, too.
“Aside from your new security system, how are things going?” I asked.
She brightened. “I got two new guests who paid in advance for the entire month.”
“That’s more than your average Doyle vacation. Are they businesspeople?”
Her brow furrowed. “I can’t get a read on them. They seem to work together, and they have separate rooms. But they dress like they’re from other eras.”
“Not Mrs. Raven and Mr. O’Hare?” I asked, spine stiffening.
“You know them?”
“I met them in Antoine’s.” They planned to stay here a whole month? What were they doing?
“Well, they’re quiet, and they paid in advance.” Susan raised her cup of coffee in a salute. “See ya!” She moved off.
Connor and his smooth-faced partner, Owen, sat at a table near the brick wall.
I perked up. Two Doyle sheriff’s deputies were an opportunity I couldn’t ignore. I grabbed a coffee pot off its heating stand and strolled to their table.
The uniformed deputies frowned over two weird-looking computer tablets. The devices looked like something out of Star Trek, thick and sturdy, but minus the big flashing buttons.
“Top up?” I asked cheerily.
They looked up, and Connor smiled, his teeth flashing white against his olive skin. “Tha
nks, Jayce. That would be great.”
And then I realized my mistake. Connor would never spill the beans in front of his partner.
I put one hand behind my back and made another magical gesture, sending the intention for Owen – and only Owen – to leave. Unsure how long my spell would need to take effect, I took my time pouring their coffee.
“Uh.” Owen stood. “I'll be back.” He hurried toward the bathroom at the rear of the café.
Magic rocked.
I sat in Owen's still-warm chair and set the coffee pot on the table.
Connor leaned backward, his bayou-colored eyes widening. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m not looking at you like anything. How did David Senator die?” I asked in a low voice.
He glanced around the crowded café. “Jayce, you know I can't tell you.”
My neck stiffened. “Karin and I tracked whatever mauled Candace yesterday. We followed it up the creek to that neighborhood of Victorians higher up the hill. Then we lost the trail.”
He swore. “Are you kidding me? What's to stop the mountain lion from doing to you what it did to Alex and David?”
“It’s not a mountain lion.” I lowered my voice. “Don’t you get it? The trail disappeared. Completely. I hate to say it, but Karin's been right all along. It's not an animal. You know—”
“No, you don't know what it did. You didn't see what it left behind.” His olive skin turned faintly greenish. “It was bad, Jayce. Real bad.”
“Was David shot before he was mauled?” I whispered.
He glanced at the nearby tables. A trio of elderly women sat with their heads close together and cackled loudly. An engineer typed madly into his laptop. “Yes,” he said quietly.
“And Candace?”
“I haven’t seen the reports from the medical examiner, but I'm willing to bet Candace was shot first too, like her husband.”
“And nobody heard the shot?”
He hissed. “Keep it down, will ya? And no, no one heard a damn thing.”
“The street construction,” I said. “They were using jackhammers outside Candace’s house. Were they working yesterday, when she was killed?”
He nodded. “From nine to five, exactly.”
“And the construction crew was there when her husband, Alex, was killed. And David… He'd been playing loud music. I mean, really loud. That's why no one heard anything,” I said excitedly. “But that gives us a window for the time of death.”
He sat back in his chair and folded his tree-trunk arms.
“Okay,” I said, satisfied, “fine. Don't tell me the time of death. I can figure this out myself.” Someone had been using the noise to muffle the sound of gunshots! And I wasn’t a half-bad detective.
But that meant the killer had planned ahead. It also meant the killer knew the town and his or her victims well.
And that meant I might know the murderer. The thought was chilling.
“Miss anything?” Owen said.
I jerked, my knee banging the table leg. “Ow.”
“Sorry.” Owen grinned. “Did I startle you?”
“Not on your life.” I stood, grabbed the pot off the table, and winked.
A flush crept up Owen's neck.
I swaggered to the counter and got back to helping Darla.
She took orders at the register, and I served at the end of the wooden counter. Fortunately, the line was light at this time of day, so I had time to ponder what I'd learned.
A young tourist couple meandered to my end of the counter. They wore colorful, striped knit hats like something out of Dr. Seuss. The pompoms bounced against their lower backs.
“I'm just saying,” the man said, “these mountains have a history of violence.”
I paused by the espresso machine and listened, head cocked.
His girlfriend, slender and blond, made a face. “But something so grisly?”
“You want grisly, read up on the Donner party,” he said. “In the 1800s, they got stranded coming over the mountains during a heavy winter. They had to resort to cannibalism to stay alive.”
“That can't be true.” She turned to me. “Is it true?”
Troubled, I nodded. “It's true. The local indigenous people tried to help them but were frightened off when they discovered the cannibalism. But that happened two hours north of here, near Donner Lake, in the Tahoe area.”
“Crazy,” she said.
They took their extravagant coffees to-go and left a hefty tip.
I kept working and listening. But another hour passed before I heard anything worthwhile.
Two women I knew walked to the register and ordered. Chatting animatedly, they wandered to my end of the counter.
“I'm telling you,” Peg, a long-haired blonde with a hippy chick vibe said. “It's not long for this world.”
“But I love Angela's boutique,” Mary said. Short, brunette, and the sort who always wore sensible shoes, Mary was a good friend of Karin's. “You must be wrong.”
I worked the espresso machine, and my heart sank. Not more problems for Angela Senator?
“Trust me,” Peg said. “Her inventory was really low. Haven't you noticed how thin her racks are? And I heard she had to lay off one of her employees last month.”
“Hi, Peg, Mary.” I topped their espressos with a layer of steamed milk and foam. “Is something wrong at Angela's boutique?”
“I hope not,” Mary said. “Not after losing her brother. Losing the business too would be awful. You know how much she loves that shop.”
I nodded like I did know and handed them their cappuccinos.
“It's like there's a curse on this town,” Peg said. “And David…”
They both looked at each other and pressed their lips together.
“What about him?” I asked.
“Well,” Mary said. “You know.”
“No,” I said, bemused. “Know what?”
“About his disappearance and then being returned,” Peg said. “I don't think any of the Returned have gotten over what happened. Whatever did happen,” she finished darkly.
I sucked in a breath. Like Karin?
“It's not a curse, and they weren't abducted by UFOs.” Mary’s dark brows drew downward. “There's a logical explanation for everything. Just because we don't understand it, doesn't mean there's not a logical explanation.”
“Uh huh.” Peg clapped a plastic lid on her cappuccino. “You keep telling yourself that. Meanwhile, I'm going to sage my apartment.”
Mary rolled her eyes and followed Peg out the door.
That tore it. Angela was getting a protection spell for sure, and maybe some good luck magic thrown in. How was the poor woman even functioning?
I reached for a coffee mug, but my hands fumbled, and I nearly knocked it to the floor. Losing one of my sisters would have crushed me. I couldn't imagine a world without them, even when they were driving me crazy. Angela’s feelings for her brother might be complicated, but he was her brother.
I poured a tiny cup of espresso and handed it to a white-haired man.
As to losing my business… Well, I had lost it once, to a fire, and I knew I could rebuild. But what if I hadn't had insurance?
A noose tightened around my chest. What if something went horribly wrong, and I lost my business for good? I'd put my heart into Ground, like any small business owner. Losing it would kill me. And on top of losing a loved one? I didn’t want to think about it.
Angela needed real help, and there was no time to lose, especially since she might be the next target.
I got through the rest of the day by plotting a spell to protect Angela. Usually, I was a “magic on the go” sort of gal. But occasionally, more ritual was needed. And since I didn't feel a strong connection to Angela or to her house, the extra oomph of a well-thought-out spell couldn't hurt.
After closing, I hurried upstairs, a sense of urgency speeding my steps, and
stumbled over a colorful throw rug. I kicked it flat and walked into the small guest bedroom. When friends weren't crashing on the daybed from India that I'd found in a secondhand store, I used it as a ritual space/dance floor.
Colorful fabrics and pillows from around the world decorated the bed. A media cabinet on one wall held a used stereo and my magical supply cupboard. Most of my magical supplies were out in the open, a giant amethyst geode in one corner of the room and other crystals lying on the window sills. Drying herbs hung from red strings draped across the ceiling.
“My” ebony cat lounged on top of the media cabinet. She watched me fill my arms with protective black stones, matches, a compass, small red drawstring bags, and the biggest sage smudge I could find.
I pulled my cell phone from the rear pocket of my jeans and called Lenore.
“Yup?” she said.
“Hey, witch. Name me some protective herbs against fairies.”
“Herbs? Hold on.”
I heard rustling sounds, the turning of pages.
“Got it,” she said. “St. John's Wort, primroses, marsh marigolds—”
“Marsh marigolds?” Phone pressed between one ear and shoulder, I studied a string of dried marigolds I'd collected over the summer. “Are they like regular marigolds?”
“Uh…”
“Okay, forget the marigolds.” I walked to the narrow table by the window and dumped the things I'd gathered. “What else?”
“Does oatmeal count as an herb?”
“No,” I said, brightening, “but Brayden just bought some, so it works.” I strode to the open kitchen and grabbed the tin of oatmeal from a white-painted cabinet. I adored my new kitchen, with its forest green subway-tile backsplash, green floor tiles, and white walls. Plants lined rough wooden shelves. From hooks beneath them dangled copper pots and wooden spoons.
“Er, what exactly are you protecting?” Lenore’s voice sharpened. “Has something happened?”
“Nothing you don't already know about. But since the creature went to the Mansfields’ house twice, I’m worried he might pay a return visit to Angela.”
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