A Spell to Die For

by Gretchen Galway

  My words were a whisper, but she was inside me, sharing them with me as I spoke, and she heard them well. I knew she did; I felt her as well as she felt me.

  And then she began to slip away. It hurt—it hurt so much—and then the pain was gone. Only joy remained.

  My vision came back into focus. I was lying on the ground, staring at the blackening sky. Time had passed, and no more blue sky remained. Hearing a groan, I pushed myself up and scrambled over to Birdie’s body.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Birdie was alive, but her eyes were closed.

  I gathered her in my arms and pulled her halfway into my lap. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve seen her earlier. I’m so sorry.”

  There had been warning signs. Random hadn’t liked her. She’d refused to come to my house. She’d refused to go up with me into her new home, which she was so proud of. She’d stopped talking compulsively all the time and hadn’t been nervous around people, even during the hours of Protectorate interrogation.

  But really, I should’ve realized something was wrong when she’d offered me coffee.

  Not to mention how she’d killed Flor. It must’ve been easy for her—a little human trying to hurt her “daughter.” But I’d thought Birdie had somehow suddenly developed the ruthlessness to kill another human being. Her true nature would’ve been to disarm Flor, strike her down and break the spell—not snuff her out. Other witches or other humans would’ve killed, certainly—but not Birdie. She was too sweet. The kind of person vulnerable to a well-meaning demon possession.

  “Birdie?” I asked, over and over. “Talk to me. It’s me, Alma.”

  “Let me try,” a voice said behind me.

  I looked up. “Seth!” He wore heavy fleece and hiking boots, and his hair was messy and unwashed.

  “I didn’t abandon you on purpose,” he said, kneeling next to me. “I hope you know that. She stuck me in the woods. Here, let me hold her.”

  I let him put his arm around Birdie’s shoulders. He sat cross-legged in the dirt as raindrops began to fall on all of us.

  “Where did you go?” I asked, wiping rain from my cheeks. Some of it might have been tears mixed with rain. I was so glad to see him. If anyone could help Birdie, it would be a changeling.

  “That spirit in Birdie kept me away from you.” Shaking his head, he put his palm over Birdie’s forehead. “She was an old one. Strong. Kicked me out of Silverpool on Thursday night after we last saw each other.”

  “We argued,” I said.

  “She must not have liked that.” He stroked Birdie’s hair and hummed a tune I could barely hear, in a high register like a mosquito, beautiful but sad.

  I wiped more tears away. “Will she be all right?”

  Nodding, he continued to hum. I looked up at the sky and let the rain pelt me in the face. I’d have to make it up to her. Would the bookstore need a clerk? Vacuuming? A free beaded necklace with every purchase?

  She had to be all right. I’d never forgive myself.

  “Let’s bring her to your place,” he said.

  “Won’t that hurt you?” I asked.

  “I’ll manage.”

  Together we lifted Birdie, who was able to get her feet under herself, a good sign, although we had to help her walk. I held her head against mine and made soothing noises all the way to the Cypress parking lot. Random ran out from behind some cars and paraded along with us.

  “Coward,” I told him affectionately.

  “He’s no dummy,” Seth said. “Let’s put her in my car. Yours is a hoarder’s paradise.”

  “I was evacuating!”

  “I’ve seen your garage. It always looks like that.” The back door of the little blue rental car flew open, and we eased her inside. Even empty, she barely fit. The interior smelled like lily of the valley.

  “I’ll meet you there,” I said, running over to my Jeep with Random.

  Five minutes later, we carried her into my house. Her eyes had fluttered open but weren’t focusing on anything; she kept asking if the nice lady found her keys.

  “She was so nice,” Birdie said. “Did she find them? Nice lady. I hope she found her keys. Do you know if she found her keys? She was really nice.”

  “Yes,” I told her, fluffing up pillows on the couch before helping her to lie down. “She found her keys. She’s gone now.”

  With a sigh, Birdie smiled and let her head fall back onto a pillow. “That’s good. She was a nice lady.”

  “So you said.” I looked at Seth, who rolled his eyes. “It’s time to wake up now, Birdie. You’ve been sleeping.”

  While Seth stayed with her, I hurried into the kitchen and poured a small glass of wellspring water from a bottle I’d left on the counter for Willy while I was gone. With Seth holding her upright, I cupped her cheek and helped her drink it. Most of it dribbled onto her chest and the couch, but enough went down her throat to do its magic.

  Her eyes popped open. “Did that lady find her keys?”

  Seth stifled a laugh. Avoiding his eyes so I wouldn’t laugh too, I put my hand on Birdie’s shoulder and felt the warm, true energy of her spirit running through her body.

  “She sure did,” I said. “She’s gone now.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.” Birdie took the glass and finished it by herself, every drop going in her mouth. Then she inhaled deeply, looked around with bright eyes, and smiled. “She was really nice.”

  Epilogue

  Birdie didn’t remember anything other than a powerful impression of a very, very nice woman who’d lost her keys. Even a week later, she was still forgetting what I’d told her and would ask again if the woman had found them. It was as if her brain had been caught in a maze, kept busy in an altruistic quest so she wouldn’t notice her body had been completely hijacked.

  For a week after Vera had left her body, she stayed with me at my house; I wouldn’t let her leave the property boundary, and I even discouraged her from going outside. Vera’s spirit was out there, probably nearby, looking for somewhere to land. I’d felt the intensity of her love and believed she would always be nearby if she could, watching me, waiting for another opening. All my life I’d wanted a mom; now I had a stalker.

  Although I couldn’t shake the feeling she was out there watching me, I took Random for his second walk of the day on Saturday afternoon, a week after Birdie and I had returned from San Francisco. Sunset came before five, and the light was already fading; winter was in the air. Under my puffy coat, the newest tattoo on my arm was still sore to the touch. What was causing them? How many more would I get? I’d have to find a witch who studied skin spells to help me determine precisely what was happening.

  As I walked down the street, Seth flashed into existence at the end of his driveway. “Good evening,” he said, bending over to pet Random, who was more in love with him than ever.

  “I wish you’d stop doing that.” My heart was pounding from the surprise. “I don’t need any more excitement.”

  He grinned. “I’m so flattered to know I excite you.”

  I rolled my eyes. Since he’d regained his fae powers, he’d resumed the incessant flirting. I pretended to be annoyed but was secretly pleased he was feeling better. Mopey, springwater-addicted Seth had been a downer.

  “I’ve been thinking about Vera,” he said, falling into step beside me.

  “Not this again,” I said. He’d been trying to convince me to forgive—or at least understand—her. To my surprise, although he’d been so critical of his mother’s decision decades ago to steal the body he now possessed, Seth had a more sympathetic view of Vera.

  “She loves you,” he said.

  “Whatever that monster thinks she feels, it doesn’t matter.” I was still furious and was rethinking my philosophical opposition to demon killing. I thought she deserved it, though I knew I couldn’t ever stab her myself. “She almost killed Birdie.”

  “She could’ve wiped Birdie out completely,” he said. “But she didn’t. She k
ept her relatively safe and sane, which isn’t easy. I wouldn’t be able to do it. I think she would’ve moved out as soon as she’d found a more justifiable victim.”

  “Moved out? People aren’t apartments.”

  With a shrug, he moved Random’s leash to his other hand. When Seth was around, the leash was just a formality; he had an invisible power over my dog that made me jealous. “Being born into physical form is a privilege you’ve never had to consider—”

  I grabbed Random’s leash. “Are you saying I need to check my privilege before I give demons a hard time for possessing people?”

  The corner of his lip curved upward, but he shook his head and said seriously, “I don’t think she’s a demon.”

  I stopped walking and stared at him. “But—” I’d seen Vera’s husk at the wedding. I’d thought only demons burned up like that. “Do you mean… she’s a changeling? Like you?”

  He recoiled. “Brightness no. She’s nothing like me. Can’t you tell?”

  “Give me a break. The subtleties of spirits possessing humans are a little hard for a mere mortal to grasp.”

  “That’s what the Protectorate should be teaching,” he said, “instead of how to slide silver blades into people.”

  “Possessed people,” I said.

  “We’re not all the same.”

  “Don’t lecture me,” I said. “I might be the only witch on the planet who agrees with that. And maybe Percy.” The apprentice had sent me a text from the southern Oregon coast, suggesting I drive up someday to check out the carnivorous plant preserve he’d found.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I apologize. You have an unusual openness of mind for a Protectorate witch.”

  I sniffed. “Thank you.”

  “I’m sure, in time, you’ll be ready to accept the obvious,” he continued.

  I didn’t like the sound of that. “You can’t mean…”

  He looked up at the sky, then slowly back down at me. “I can almost hear the harps playing, can’t you?”

  “No,” I said. “You can’t honestly believe, after what she did, after how Birdie suffered, the way she was willing to… She can’t be a…”

  “She might not be an angel anymore, but I think she started out in that job.”

  My mind reeled. “She killed Flor!”

  “And it really upset her, you said. She was forced into it.”

  “Angels can’t kill people,” I said. “Flor hadn’t even killed anyone directly. She’d just—” My teeth clamped shut.

  Demon’s balls. I kept forgetting. Even though Seth must know about the genie, I couldn’t mention her without my mouth freezing up. If I fought it, I’d pass out. I had to turn my attention to Random, who was sniffing the stop sign at the bottom of the hill, and wait for the urge to talk about Jen Bardak to pass.

  “Flor had almost killed you, her daughter,” Seth said. “That was what pushed her over the line.”

  “The woman who gave birth to me was not Vera,” I said. “A human woman was my mother. I’ll never know her. Vera was a bystander, a thief.”

  “You’re the daughter of both the human woman and the possessing spirit. Vera is a thief like your father. I bet she really does love him.”

  “You’re crazy,” I said. “You’re so far gone in the human experience, you’re giving human motives to supernatural monsters.”

  “Who better to make that call,” he asked, “than another monster?”

  I strode across Main Street and walked onto the bridge. The river was a trickle beneath us, the winery up ahead in the hills. It still hadn’t rained yet. “I’m not part angel,” I said. “I can’t even sing.”

  “I thought you’d be curious to know the truth about yourself. But maybe it’s too soon.” He paused in the middle of the bridge and braced his elbows on the railing, looking upriver. The rows of grapevines in the hills were visible through a gap in the trees. “I’m going to be leaving for a little while. I came by to say goodbye.”

  Now that he was free to travel, I hadn’t expected him to stay as long as he had. “Where are you going?” I tried to keep my curiosity—and disappointment—out of my voice. Since he’d regained his health, he’d also regained the personality he’d had when we’d first met, and it made me uneasy. He wasn’t harmless anymore.

  “Don’t know. Everywhere and nowhere.” He looked up at the winery. “It’s time.” He squatted down and scratched Random roughly, making him shake his leg and writhe in ecstasy.

  “When do you think you’ll be back?” I asked.

  He looked up at me and grinned. “Already missing me?”

  I felt my heart pounding. “Birdie will ask.” He’d always been too charming. Too good-looking. Too… important. “Take care of yourself.”

  “If I don’t, you might track me down and do it for me,” he said.

  “I’m done with taking care of you,” I said.

  “Too bad.” He stood up, glanced over my shoulder at the winery again. “Really is getting late. I’ll be in touch.”

  I turned my head to see what he was looking at, but it was just the trees and vineyard. When I turned back, he was gone. I cast out my senses, feeling for his spirit, coming up as empty as always.

  “Can’t you even say goodbye?” I yelled into the empty air.

  Behind me, I heard Raynor say, “I just got here.”

  Random stopped sniffing the ground where Seth had stood and pulled at the leash to greet the newcomer, who had just stepped onto the bridge from the other side.

  Raynor wore unusually casual clothes—fleece and denim, as if he were an outdoorsy man just enjoying the weekend. A wool beanie covered his bald head, and he’d started to let his beard grow out. He looked like a superhero in street clothes, pretending to be a normie but not quite pulling it off.

  We hadn’t spoken since my interrogation after Flor’s death. Even then, he’d kept his distance, letting the New York mages handle the questioning. If the spit of his I’d saved held any power, I hadn’t had the chance to use it.

  I’d hoped he’d finally decided to leave me and Silverpool alone. Not because I’d convinced him with my actions but because I’d made that deal with a genie. The torc had to have been worth some period of safety.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  He approached, patted Random, and braced his elbows on the bridge railing the same place Seth had done. “Can’t you guess?”

  My stomach tensed. Were they going to set the town on fire again? Bury Cypress? Dam the river? Had a smarter witch paid the genie a higher price for a better wish?

  “No,” I said. “Just tell me. Please.”

  He looked over at the winery, his expression unreadable. “I’m the new Protector of Silverpool.”

  Read the First Book in the Series

  Dead Witch on a Bridge (Sonoma Witches #1)

  Is her magic strong enough to stop a killer?

  On her first assignment as a demon-hunting witch, Alma was unable to kill. Now broke and unemployed at twenty-six, she lives in Silverpool, a remote town in a redwood forest north of San Francisco, where she sells magic-infused jewelry and tries to live a drama-free life.

  * * *

  When fairies draw her to the dead body of her ex-boyfriend, she must defend herself and the hidden power in Silverpool from an influx of supernatural trouble. The only way to make peace—and stay alive—is to find the killer.

  * * *

  Drawing upon years of formal magical training she’d rather forget, and using other abilities she’d like to keep secret, Alma goes up against bloodthirsty fae, a dangerously charming demon, her infamous father, and other ambitious witches with agendas of their own.

  * * *

  This time, an inability to kill might be not just the end of her job, but of her life...

  Click here to get your copy.

  Also by Gretchen Galway

  SONOMA WITCHES (Paranormal Mystery)

  Dead Witch on a Bridge (Sonoma Witches #1)

&
nbsp; Hex at a House Party (Sonoma Witches #2)

  A Spell to Die For (Sonoma Witches #3)

  OAKLAND HILLS SERIES (Romance)

  Love Handles (Oakland Hills #1)

  This Time Next Door (Oakland Hills #2)

  Not Quite Perfect (Oakland Hills #3)

  This Changes Everything (Oakland Hills #4)

  Quick Takes (Oakland Hills Stories Boxed Set)

  Going For Broke (Oakland Hills #5)

  Going Wild (Oakland Hills #6)

  Oakland Hills Romantic Comedy Boxed Set (Books 1-3)

  * * *

  RESORT TO LOVE SERIES (Romance)

  The Supermodel’s Best Friend (Resort to Love #1)

  Diving In (Resort to Love #2)

  About the Author

  GRETCHEN GALWAY is a USA Today bestselling author who writes mystery, fantasy, and romance. Raised in the Midwest, she now lives in in Sonoma County, California.

  * * *

  Sign up for her newsletter at www.gretchengalway.com to hear about new releases.