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MURDER LIFTS THE SPIRITS
by
MARGARET C. MORSE
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Copyright © 2018 by Margaret C. Morse
Cover design by Estrella Designs
Gemma Halliday Publishing
http://www.gemmahallidaypublishing.com
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
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
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BOOKS BY MARGARET C. MORSE
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to everyone who read and enjoyed the first Petra Rakowitz paranormal mystery. This second book would never have come about if not for the terrific staff at Gemma Halliday Publishing. I would like to thank especially Wendi Baker, who did a great job of editing. Finally, much appreciation to my husband, Duane, for his encouraging support and patience.
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CHAPTER ONE
Monday
I kicked a pebble off the path and over the boundary line of the Disclaimer Ranch Treatment Center. The white stone plunked down on hard-packed desert dirt. I flung another rock over the border. It flew deeper into the night, close to the pecan trees that screened the ranch from the neighboring gourmet restaurants. Yes! I gathered a handful of pebbles and lifted my arm to pitch them to freedom.
"Petra," rumbled a voice behind me, "what are you doing?"
The pebbles dribbled out of my hand. How ridiculous, to be caught throwing rocks like a little kid. "I'm helping them escape."
Ira Flynn held out his arms. I flung myself on him. His broad shoulders made him the bulwark I needed after a day of uncertain progress in learning to control my newly emerged magic powers. I happily inhaled his scent of soap and sweet spiciness.
His nose tilted off-center from a long-ago fight gone wrong. He refused to have it fixed. Determined to be successful in this stay at the ranch to fix his dysfunctional magic, he had shaved his head to show he was all business.
"Bad day?" He stroked my tangled mess of dark hair.
He had empathic powers, but I knew Ira wouldn't violate the ethical rule of empaths and read me without permission. Sometimes I was tempted to allow him to scan me so I wouldn't have to explain myself. I never did because I wanted him to see some but not all of my thoughts and emotions.
I drew back to look into his amber eyes. His body warmed me, but I wanted more, to connect with his inner self. I wasn't being fair, longing to read his mind, though I wouldn't let him completely into mine.
"I'll never get out of this place if I don't make more progress." I brushed at red stains on my jeans. For two months I'd struggled at the ranch to master my recently manifested magical powers. During a training session today, I'd felt my progress falter when I hurled paint on myself, not the target.
Ira took my hand, and we strolled down the path. I watched my step because one toe over ranch property would set off an alarm. All of us dysfunctional wizards had a tracking spell installed in our wrists on our first day in treatment. Sticks and stones could leave the ranch, but we residents stayed until staff certified us as safe to do magic in the outside world.
I wished I'd been in the dusty city park in Socorro, New Mexico, in 1954 when the Mother of Mercy had appeared to twelve startled citizens. I'd have asked her, "What do you mean 'Witches and Wizards, make yourselves known'?" And then I'd have demanded, "What if non-magicals shun us?" The New Mexico coven blessed with the Mother of Mercy's appearance hadn't thought to question her. Those wizards and witches went public and at first met delighted admiration. Gradually, however, some non-magicals grew fearful of a power they lacked. Discrimination developed in the form of laws to protect society from rogue magic. In the sixties and seventies, dysfunctional wizards like Ira and I would have been in prison until we were deemed safe. Nowadays we received treatment in a homelike place like the ranch where Ira and I walked in the night.
Solar lights set close to the ground provided gentle illumination of the crushed tan rocks of the path. Around us, the wind rustled creosote bushes. Cholla cactus lurked, ready at the slightest touch to cast out buds studded with needles.
"Speaking of progress," Ira said, "I'm very close to getting approved for day passes for work." He looked at me expectantly.
I halted where the path branched right to return to the ranch house, a river rock-fronted building from the 1940s. A two-story add-on towered at a right angle over the original home.
I knew I should be upbeat about his announcement since it meant he'd made progress in treatment. "I'm happy for you," I lied. I enjoyed having him around all day and didn't want to lose him. His family would be thrilled to have him back at their circus doing hands-on design work for costumes and sets. I withdrew my hand.
"But not too happy?"
"I'm jealous," I admitted. "I'll miss you. And I wish I was closer to finishing here. More than anything, I want my old life back, to be in a courtroom announcing Petra Rakowitz for the defense."
Ira picked up a stick and held it to his chest. He curved his fingers around the twig, murmuring, "Reshape." When he extended his hand to me, a pink ribbon rested on his palm. He tied it around my wrist, which I thought was a sweet gesture. Now that he was doing so well in treatment, he rarely fumbled his ability to shapeshift objects.
The front door of the ranch house opened, releasing a flash of light. It outlined a dark figure on top of the porch steps.
I squinted at the shadowy form. "I bet that's Cullen. He said he wanted to talk to me tonight. Terribly urgent. He's so intense."
"Are you sure you want to meet with him?" Ira asked. "You can bet he wants something from you."
I caught a harshness in Ira's tone. "You sound s
uspicious. I thought you got along okay with Cullen?"
"I do. Just remember he's very needy. You have to set boundaries with him."
"I think I can handle a pretty boy ten years younger than me." In my work as a criminal defense attorney, I'd had lots of experience with demanding, manipulative types.
"Cullen's okay if you don't get caught up in his schemes." Ira glanced at the figure on the porch, who hadn't moved. "I'm going to catch the last of the REM meeting. Too bad Cullen is making you miss it." He turned for the path that led to the ranch house.
I grabbed his arm, enjoying the hard muscles. "It isn't my meeting with Cullen that made me pass on the Renew and Embrace Magic group hug. I'll work with them when I'm close to finishing the program."
"They're not just for reentering society. They help me enjoy magic." He brushed his scarred knuckles over my cheek. "When's the last time you smiled while doing a spell?" He hurried down the path and disappeared inside the ranch house.
CHAPTER TWO
Ira's touch tingled on my skin. I longed to wrap myself around him. If I kept the meeting with Cullen short, I'd try for some quality time with Ira. Nice to end the day with a snuggle.
Cullen Lightman left the porch and glided toward me. He wore a dark shirt, form fitted to his trim torso, tucked into black jeans. His turquoise eyes swept over my rumpled blouse and tattered pants. Dark hair dipped onto his forehead. Faint glitter sparkled on his skin. He could do a beautify spell on himself at the flick of a thought. Unlike Ira, who used his magic to create lovely objects, Cullen applied his power to make himself and others pretty.
"I need you to tell me what a contract says," he announced.
Great, he was asking for free legal advice outside of my area of criminal law. I wanted to help Cullen because he'd given me some tips on how to do beautify spells. However, I'd inevitably regretted the times when I'd given lawyerly help in unfamiliar areas. I always got in over my head and handed out muddled advice. Set boundaries, Ira had recommended. Before I turned Cullen down, I'd at least check on the scope of his problem. "The whole contract or just a tiny part?"
He flung his arms out. "I'm not sure I can keep on modeling for That Guy."
"Don't tell me you're already tired of doing ads for men's cologne?"
His fingers caressed his perfect hair. He couldn't talk without gesturing. His hands and arms flowed gracefully as they acted out his words. "The photo shoots have actually been quite artistic, terrific lighting."
"I can see it," I said. "You all broody with just a touch of pout." When he extended a hand toward me, I added, "And don't try a glamour spell on me. I'm happy with my disheveled witch look. So what's the problem?"
"I got an offer to be the model for a different product. That's the contract I want your help with. I think there's something in it about me not modeling for other stuff, unless they say it's okay. It's legal mumbo jumbo. I need you to read it and explain what it means. Petra, this new product could really make my name."
"What is it? Men's underwear?" My questions were drawing him out when I wanted to discourage him, but I was curious.
His eyes popped open. "How did you find out?"
The porch lights flashed on. Staff and residents poured out and headed for a coffee urn and an ice chest filled with soft drinks. The REM meeting had paused for a break.
"I was joking," I said.
"Joking? Do you know how big underwear is?" He spread his hands far apart. "It's huge."
Although we were about fifty feet from the porch, I worried Cullen's raised voice might attract notice.
I lowered my tone. "What about your agent? Isn't she supposed to go over contracts with you?"
"She dropped me when I did a little nose job on her."
"Cullen, how could you? Didn't you learn anything from being sent to the ranch for doing a beautify spell on that model without her permission?"
"That thing with the model was her whole face. With my agent it was just a little nose nip. I didn't think she'd notice. I couldn't stand—"
"Stop." I backed away, alarmed at a sweet smell coming from him. "If you're trying an aroma spell to soften me up, cut it out. Logic is required here. You need an entertainment law attorney, not me."
He clasped his hands and held them up as if he were praying. "Puh-lease? I promise not to ask for advice. Just tell me what the contract says. I want to be the face of a major underwear promotion. Print ads, billboards, life-sized cutouts of me in stores!"
I smiled at the thought of ubiquitous, giant photos of Cullen in boxers.
He must have taken the smile for weakness. "Come on. Just say you'll read the contract tonight."
I made my face serious, frustrated that he wouldn't listen to the good advice I was giving him. "Cullen, it would be a waste of time." I'd let this conversation go on too long. Hoping to end it, I headed for the house. "I'm not doing it."
"Wait!" He tugged at my sleeve.
I detached myself from him. "The answer is no."
From the porch Jake Herz seemed to be watching me over Ira's shoulder. As director of the ranch, Jake kept an eagle eye on the behavior of his residents. I knew that from his position the light from the solar reflectors on the path would give him a sketchy view of us. He'd recognize shapes and broad movements but not identify details. The others on the porch chatted in groups of two or three.
Cullen stepped in front of me. "How about if I help you do a beautify spell?"
"I'm okay as is." I finger combed my hair but couldn't get through the tangles.
He waved his hands. "I'm trying to do a trade. You read the contract, and I'll do a beautify spell on you for free."
"Cullen, no."
When I walked toward the house, Cullen grabbed my arm. I considered setting him on fire and pretending it was an accident. No, the Disclaimer Ranch required too much paperwork.
I yanked myself free. Jake and Ira had started down the porch steps, so I guessed they'd observed the tussle between Cullen and me. They paused when I waved them back. Irritated with myself for having so far mishandled the scene with Cullen, I resolved to end it on a somewhat positive note.
"Cullen, let's take a break and calm down. When you have time to think it over, I believe you'll see my point of view."
A frown marred his smooth brow, a facial gesture that I'd learned meant he was thinking, not always a good sign, for he tended to jump to conclusions. I braced myself for an outburst.
He pointed at me. "You hate me because I've never made a move on you!"
Of all the crazy, out-of-left-field ideas. "You've never made a pass at me because I'm way older than you and I'm involved with Ira."
He stabbed at me with a finger. "If you'd let me do a beautify spell on you, Ira would really love you."
So much for ending the scene on a positive note. Cullen's words had unerringly hit a sore spot because Ira had never actually said he loved me. Okay, I hadn't said those magic words to him either. Stung, I gave up on the scene with Cullen and marched toward the ranch house.
I flinched when, without warning, a white object flew past me, missing my arm by inches. Startled, I whirled to see it land on the path in front of Cullen. The object was the figure of a bird, about the size of a golf ball. Cullen studied the bird, which sparkled briefly on the tan crushed gravel.
When the glimmer faded, Cullen smiled. "I wonder who sent this gift to me. Nice little gesture to send it with a propel spell."
I bent over the little bird. "I'm not that good at the propel spell yet."
"I bet most of the ranch residents could do it." Cullen reached for the bird. His fingertips were inches away when it flattened and expanded into a shadowy shape on the gravel. The darkened blob formed into the outline of a human topped by an oval head with red glowing eyes. It could be a demon about to attack us. I yelped and grabbed Cullen. "We've got to run! It might be dangerous!"
We'd darted forward a short distance when Cullen looked over his shoulder and cried out, "It's already gone!"
I couldn't believe the thing had disappeared. It might come back—we should keep moving. "Come on!"
He paid no attention but stopped and turned around. We'd only moved about ten feet. He backtracked halfway to where we'd seen the shadow and shook his head. "The bird is just like I first saw it. Look!"
I risked joining him. The solar reflectors showed that the little bird had reappeared on the crushed gravel. I glanced at the porch crowd, who couldn't have really seen the shadow figure since it had been flat on the ground. Their chatter kept them busy.
Cullen examined the bird. "I think your magic went haywire, made us see something strange. You need to have Jake check you out. You don't want to freak everybody out by causing weird stuff."
I blinked to clear my vision, wondering what I had seen. My magic power, although erratic, had never before produced a shadow creature or a visual illusion. It wasn't fair to blame the thing on me.
Above Cullen, the dark of the night shaped itself into another head and shoulders. With a gasp I held up my hands to protect myself. Red light streamed from the eyes. The mouth opened, displaying jagged teeth. The arms elongated, stretched out to us, holding a shining silver spear.
I screamed and snatched at Cullen, who called out as the spear plunged toward him. Heart pounding, I flung him to the ground. We crashed down, Cullen into a creosote bush and me into a cholla cactus. The spear disappeared into the earth, missing us. The creature's head and arms faded into the night.
Cullen vaulted up, pulling me along by the arm. Cholla buds, balls of hooked needles, stuck to my other arm. I stumbled next to Cullen, convinced the menacing shadow would return and pounce on us. Those on the porch must have seen the red eyes of the creature and the shining spear. For they rushed down the porch steps, Jake in front with his wizard staff raised, the jewels along its six feet gleaming.
Murder Lifts the Spirits Page 1