A Spell to Die For

by Gretchen Galway

  “You could sit down? I’ll get us some horchata?” I made everything a question. Optional. “Maybe it has wellspring water in it?” I pulled a chair out and smiled in the most nurturing way I could manage. “I heard it gets into everything here?”

  She sat down, and in a few minutes I’d bought us each a glass of the sweet drink. Before handing her the glass, I dipped my pinkie into hers and cast another spell to enhance my harmless vibe. Unsanitary, but she’d just been sharing spit with Percy, so I didn’t feel too bad.

  After one sip, she let out a huge sigh and began to cry. “I told him not to come,” she said. “I’d heard about Silverpool. The last Protector died, and it was never cleared up.”

  I bit my lip, tempted to tell her what I knew. “You thought something bad would happen to Bosko, too?”

  “No, I guess not,” she said, taking another sip. “I thought he’d get stuck here forever. I thought Bosko was too mean to die.” Her nose wrinkled.

  “I thought he was kind of mean to Percy,” I said casually.

  She put the glass down. “Percy adored him. He admired him more than anything. Everyone knew that. Percy gave up promotions of all kinds because he loved, just loved, Kurt Bosko.” Nodding, she looked at the menu above my head behind me. “Maybe I will get something. Do they have fish tacos here?”

  In spite of my spells, she was lying to me. I could feel it. “I think so?” I said tentatively, trying to regain my unthreatening status. “Probably?”

  So, what part of her statement had been a lie?

  Yuki got up and ordered something, then stood there waiting for it instead of rejoining me at the table. When she finally had her plastic basket of fish tacos with a pile of tortilla chips, which she began to eat first, she’d put up a figurative wall between us. Why would she lie about Percy hating Bosko? Most apprentices felt hostility toward their masters. Or had she been lying about Percy passing on promotions?

  I waited for her to finish one of her tacos before trying another question. “When did you get here?” I asked. “It looks like they’ve got a blockade up now.”

  “Percy came and got me this morning,” she said, pushing the basket away and wiping her hands. “I came up with Sarah Rock, don’t know if you know her, she’s a Flint now. We had to sleep in her Pilot on the side of the road. I knew it would be remote, but I didn’t expect so many fairies. They kept waking us up, turning the windshield wipers on, the headlights, the hazards—really annoying.”

  “Did you see any of them?” I asked. Even regular witches without unusual sight like me could see fae who wanted to be seen.

  “Just the lights,” she said, yawning. “If only Percy had listened to me. I’ve been telling him for months to get a new job, but he was afraid of looking su—” She cut herself off. Eyes opening wide, she turned her attention to the basket, pushing a soiled napkin into the uneaten taco.

  “Suspicious?” I asked.

  Face flushing, she stood. “I’ve got to get back. Nice seeing you…” She stared at me and began to frown.

  My spell wasn’t strong enough to stand up to a direct challenge from a trained witch, and before I’d drawn my next breath, she’d pulled a boundary spell around herself and hurried out of the restaurant.

  I got up to follow her, but Darius walked in the door, pointing at me.

  “You were supposed to keep in touch,” he said.

  “I was just about to call.” Standing up, I looked at Yuki’s basket and considered bagging it and scanning it at home, but then I’d have to explain what I was doing to Darius, which made me decide there wasn’t a sensible reason to do it. Whatever she was hiding, the secrets wouldn’t be unraveled with her saliva. Percy was the one who needed investigating. “I just met Percy’s girlfriend.”

  “Yuki Kimura,” he said. “She’s his alibi. They were at the moon party together. All night.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He looked around the restaurant—where everyone, I realized, was staring at us. Without a word, we turned away and went outside together. The exodus had quieted down for now. The rest of the people were probably like Birdie, holed up at home with headaches.

  “We didn’t find a reason not to believe either of them,” he said. “Percy wasn’t supposed to leave his master’s side on their first night in town. Keeping that from us would’ve helped him save his career. Now he’ll never live it down. His master killed while he danced under the moonlight with his girlfriend and a bunch of counterculture witch hippies.”

  “I’m not convinced Percy loved Bosko as much as people thought he did,” I said. “Yuki was lying to me, but I’m not sure exactly about what.”

  “All right. So, you think he killed his master?” Darius asked absently, flipping through his notebook.

  “If you’re not going to take my ideas seriously, maybe I should just go home.”

  “I think you should go home,” he said. “Isn’t the exodus spell wearing you out? I’ve got a silver bracelet the Protectorate gave me, but your boundary spells must be exhausting to maintain.”

  I stifled a yawn, realizing how tired I was. Without being consciously aware of it, fighting the Protectorate hex had strained me. “Look into Percy’s story. This might help you break through any spells he put down to cover himself, if he did.” I took out the scrap of velvet holding the sycamore leaf I’d rubbed on Percy’s hatchback. “Maybe he can apparate. He’s got skills with mind magic, maybe he’s got other talents.”

  Darius looked inside the bag, frowning. “A leaf?”

  “It has Percy’s aura.”

  With a sigh, he took out a second velvet bag of his from his chest pocket and pushed mine inside. “Maybe he’s secretly the most powerful mage of our time. That’s why he worked for Kurt Bosko, who emotionally abused him and paid him Flint wages.”

  I flung open my car door, afraid I might lose my temper. Darius didn’t mean to be patronizing. He was just careful. “Maybe Percy was only sticking around until he had the chance to kill him,” I said. “Will you investigate him more thoroughly? For me? Please?”

  Darius stayed on the sidewalk but nodded and slipped the wrapped leaf inside his jacket. “Sorry. You’ve really got a feeling about him?”

  “Yes.” Mollified by his belated helpfulness, I asked, “Did you need a ride back to the winery?”

  “It’s not far. Why don’t you walk more? It’s good for you.”

  “I will if the town survives,” I said. “Promise.”

  My head cleared as soon as I went into my house, and I felt a surge of energy. Fighting the exodus spell was going to drain me if I wasn’t careful. I made myself some toast with almond butter and sat down for a minute to recharge. It was dinnertime. When had I last had a proper meal? I made myself a second slice of toast, added an apple, and ate.

  What if Percy had actually hated Bosko and had used the idea of demons in Silverpool as a cover for murder? He’d have to have a way of getting into the room without leaving a trace. Lifting and dropping Bosko, a powerful witch, without him fighting or saving himself would take an amulet or an unusual skill. Perhaps both. But did he have a motive?

  I picked up my phone and called Helen.

  “Are you calling me for a place to stay?” she asked.

  “No. I need information.”

  “Good,” she said. “I was afraid you were fighting your destiny again. You can’t run away now. Too many questions. A witch answers questions. And finds new ones. It’s our true nature.”

  I licked almond butter off my thumb, skeptical. Was she really in a mood to cooperate? “You know what’s happening in Silverpool?”

  “They’re trying to drive out the people before they bury it.”

  Helen was still better informed than any other non-Protectorate witch I’d ever met. “Percival Tuff. Goes by Percy. He was—”

  “Bosko’s apprentice. Think he dropped Bosko on his head?”

  “I don’t know. People say he idolized Bosko. Can you find out if he might have i
t in for him for some reason?”

  “I have an idea,” Helen said. “Maybe, like your father, he was in love with that demon. She enchanted your father, why not a Protectorate witch?”

  “That makes no sense,” I said. “First of all, he’s much younger—”

  “You think a young man wouldn’t be interested in an older woman? She was barely fifty, if that,” she said.

  Helen’s ego was as fragile as a fairy’s wing. “All right, maybe he was. Will you find out and tell me?” I poured some milk into my cup and put it in the microwave. The nights had been dropping into the thirties, and my house was drafty. “Go way back, too, if you can. Where’d he grow up? Go to school? Did he always want to be an app? What’s his family—?”

  “Hello, I’m not your Flint,” she said. “I might ask around because it pleases me, but that’s all. If you want to know how he felt about his mommy, you’ll have to find her yourself and ask her.”

  “I have wellspring water I could pay you with.”

  Silence. I’d spoken her language.

  “It has to be solstice drawn,” she said. “I already have the off-season. And you have to use the torc to get it so I can compare.”

  “The wellspring might be buried by then. I need your help before then. Like now.”

  “Do you really think they’d bury it? The income potential alone—”

  “Yes,” I said. “I think they might. It seems like somebody powerful wants all the questions here to go away as soon as possible. Forever.”

  “If the wellspring is buried, even if I help you, what do I get?” she asked.

  I looked around my kitchen and saw a nicely carved piece of wood leaning against the wall behind the door. Bosko had said it was barely more than a giant pencil, but he’d soon realized that was wrong. The staff would be weaker away from my house, but with time and skill, which Helen had, she could take control of it for herself and tap into its powers in her own home.

  “My staff,” I said. “If I can’t get the solstice-drawn wellspring water, I’ll give it to you.”

  I could hear her smile over the phone. “Deal,” she said.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  In the dark, before the moon rose above the tree line, I took Random for a quick walk down our street. The poor dog hadn’t had a good run off leash in days. There was still no sign of life at Seth’s house, and I wondered if he’d left without saying goodbye. I told myself—unconvincingly—that was for the best. The Souters’ house was also quiet, which was unusual for the seventy-something nonmagical homebodies.

  As I walked by, I studied the Souters’ property more closely. All the lights were off, even the electric lanterns Chuck had wired along the ground to light the path up to the front door so Marge, with poor night vision, wouldn’t fall. Then I realized the lighting was gone entirely, torn from the ground. The living room shades were still up, too, which meant they’d left before it got dark. Even the chicken coop was empty.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised. They were a nonmagical couple, and the exodus spell would’ve hit them first, but their departure made me sad. They were good neighbors and good people, and at their age, even if the exodus spell was halted and Silverpool survived, they might not come back. It was hard enough to find the town once. Returning to it later might be harder, even after living here for years. They could be on their way to Arizona by now.

  Looking at their dark house reminded me of how little time I had, and I pulled a reluctant Random away from the Souters’ bushes to return to my house.

  My heart jumped into my throat. Seth was right behind me, floating above the road.

  “What did you do?” he demanded.

  Only the fae could creep up on me like that. Taking a breath to calm myself, I looked up at his face, which looked healthy and strong, though angry.

  “I paid a fair price,” I said. I couldn’t talk about the genie and had no idea if he knew what she was. She’d been the original owner of his house but smart enough to use intermediaries. He’d sensed her on me as one of the three spirits who had messed with me, but he’d been unable to specify her identity.

  “You had no right to take that burden.” He crossed his arms over his chest. He wore a yellow hoodie over dark sweats, giving me the impression of a skinny, furious bee. “I can’t repay you.”

  It was pointless to argue. “I know,” I said. “I did it anyway.”

  “Why?”

  I opened my mouth to explain the limits of my wish, how the genie hadn’t really given me a choice, but my jaw locked. Right. It was hard to remember my vow. Silently agreeing to avoid the topic, I said instead, “You need to leave town. The Protectorate is going to bury the wellspring.”

  He scoffed, tossing his head in disgust. “You have put me eternally—and the fae don’t say that lightly—in your debt,” he said. “I’m not a child. I’ve never been a child. I’m a monster, the kind you were trained to kill. And now you’ve given me a life I didn’t ask for.”

  “None of us asked for life,” I said. “We got it anyway. Congratulations.”

  He levitated another foot into the air, looming above me. His face glowed from within, showing me a pair of dark eyes that were still angry and might be angry for more years than I could fathom. “I’m back to myself again. It’s as if Launt never existed. I’m human with fae powers.”

  “Great,” I said. “Now you can leave.”

  He slowly lowered himself to the ground in front of me. “I’m not going anywhere unless you do,” he said.

  “You can’t let the Protectorate destroy you,” I said.

  His hand came up and cupped my cheek in the same place it had last night. Warmth flooded into me, eliminating every ache, every pain, knots in my muscles, fog in my brain. The glow in his face enveloped both of us, creating a circle of blinding, yellow light in the middle of the road, a small sun below the moon on a cold, dark November night. “I’ll do whatever I want,” he whispered. Then he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

  Swaying on my feet, dizzy from the loss of warmth and comfort, it took me a moment to open my eyes and look around. Random was sitting calmly at my feet. A light flicked on in Seth’s house, and then loud music, ’90s grunge, began to play.

  He wasn’t going to leave.

  Fine. He could leave if and when he needed to. I had no regrets. Someday I might miss the sweet, vulnerable Seth I’d come to know as my neighbor, but I’d done the right thing.

  Shivering, I clutched my beads to erase the residue of his touch.

  Even with my beads, I felt a growing pressure in my skull as I walked home. Seth’s warm touch was being overwhelmed by the Protectorate hex to evacuate. I had to get inside my house before the spell broke through my defenses.

  There was a slight improvement in my discomfort when I walked onto my driveway; my magic was getting stronger as I approached the center of my power. Before I went inside, I had to warn Willy. I dropped Random’s leash and walked over to the redwood tree.

  He appeared instantly at the base of the trunk, hands on his little hips, bare-headed and chewing his pipe. “What is this very horrible magic you are doing, human friend? It is most terrible and I think I will feel worse soon.”

  “The Protectorate is driving all the humans out of town,” I said. “They’re threatening to bury the wellspring.”

  He stared at me. “But they were trying that long times ago. I thought they learned their lessons.”

  “When was that?”

  He took his pipe out of his mouth and shook it on the ground. “Your time and mine don’t speak the same language,” he said. “It was before the old humans were baby humans. Witches like you were here, afraid of the demons and all the other ones they don’t understand. But it was silly to try. The water always flows. Water is always the strongest magic. It can bend to anything, crush the largest stone, dissolve the strongest metal. Without it, we die. With it, we die. Even my kind.”

  “They’re going to try again,” I said. “
Unless I can stop them.”

  “Protectorate is not being as strong as water,” he said, giving me an approving nod. “You will be winning this conflict, I am thinking. Best wishes to your quest in this matter. Please before then, please I hope you stop the horrible spell coming out of your people. It is disgusting.”

  His tone was unusually passionate. “What does it feel to you?” To a witch like myself, it was just magic, one spell like any other, just stronger and meaner.

  “A crime, that is what I would be saying, something very wrong. The balance of life here does not deserve this insult.” He pointed at me. “You will be turning it off for us, thank you for that. Now I will be going into my home, where the stink from human magic is not quite so nasty.” He turned toward the little red door that had appeared.

  “Would you consider leaving?” I called after him. “If I fail, this forest might end up…” I trailed off, afraid to admit what the Protectorate might do.

  “Ending up is meaning what?” he asked.

  “Under a pile of mud,” I said. “Or boulders. Whatever they can get in here to bury the place. They’ve done it before.”

  “As I was saying to you, they have tried.”

  “But sometimes they succeed,” I said. “There are wellsprings in Los Angeles and Modesto, for instance, human cities not too far from here, that no longer have ground access to the wellsprings. They’re buried under sewers and concrete and made so disgusting even the trolls won’t go there anymore.” That had been the idea. Without fae, the demons wouldn’t come either.

  “Your story is very sad. I will think about it in my home while you make the work happen to stop the sadness here.” He touched his forehead and disappeared.

  He had too much faith in me. I turned and went inside. The moment I closed the door, the pressure on my mind ceased completely. It was only nine, but I decided it would be good to get as much sleep as I could before the sun rose. They had gone after the nonmagical people first, but witches would be next. The compulsion to leave would become irresistible.