Southern Hauntings

by Amy Boyles

  “We spoke to Della, Mr. Albod’s daughter, today,” I said.

  “Oh, her?” Peaches said in that bored voice of his. “How is she? I haven’t seen her in ages.”

  “She said that Mr. Albod had a nurse, Ingrid Puryear. Do you know her?”

  “Know an Ingrid?” Peaches’s tail flicked against the seat. “No, I don’t.”

  “It’s possible he was trapped in the vessel before Ingrid moved in,” Axel mused.

  “Ah, good point.”

  “But you know Della?” I said.

  “Mr. Albod’s daughter. I know her. She always wanted his money. But then, who didn’t? Mr. Albod is a wealthy man.”

  My gaze slid to Axel. “She didn’t seem interested in his money.”

  “I’ve known Della a long time,” Peaches confided. “She likes money. Married money, too.”

  “And now she doesn’t have any,” I said. “Actually, I might be jumping the gun. There’s no proof that she’s broke. She had her own house.”

  “Could be a rental,” Axel said.

  “Could be.” I tapped a fist to my knee.

  After a few minutes we reached Axel’s. The four of us clambered up the steps and spilled into the kitchen.

  Axel gently settled the urn on the table.

  “What’s that?” Peaches asked.

  “This”—Axel tapped the lid—“is supposed to be Mr. Albod. We’re going to see if it really is or not.”

  “Will he come out like a genie?” Peaches asked.

  Axel’s gaze shifted uncomfortably to me. “Not exactly. Hugo here is going to be a big help.”

  Hugo pawed Axel. Want to help, the dragon said. For Axel, Hugo’s words sounded like a garbled howl, but to me they were crisp and clear.

  I smiled proudly. “Hugo wants to help.”

  “Great.” Axel clapped his hands. “Let’s get downstairs and start setting up.”

  I patted Hugo on the head as we traipsed through Axel’s house down to the cellar. My dragon was growing. Currently the size of a small love seat, he wouldn’t get much bigger.

  He was already large enough for me to ride, but I hadn’t worked with him the way I should. Mainly because the store and Axel kept me busy.

  But Hugo’s vocabulary grew daily and he was an adolescent dragon. He needed more guidance from me than I was offering.

  After all, he was my familiar. The best way to use him to grow my magic was to, well, use him for his purpose.

  That was probably part of what Betty had been complaining about to me—that I hadn’t learned how to use my magic. Hugo was part of that magic. At some point I would need to make a real effort to learn how to wield my head witch powers the way they were supposed to be.

  Axel clapped his hands, and a row of tapered candles fired to life.

  I dropped my purse on the couch. “I wish you could teach me that trick.”

  He quirked a brow. “If you bothered to learn your magic, you would know how to do it.”

  “I know some things,” I whimpered.

  “Just enough to get by.”

  I flashed him a sickly sweet smile. “Sometimes that’s all you need.”

  He grunted. “Now, this ritual calls for absolute concentration.”

  “Care to tell us what we’re going to do?”

  Axel slid a hand over the urn before placing it on a table. “What we’re going to work is a spell that, if it’s done correctly, will form the image of whoever makes up those ashes.”

  “Sounds enchanting,” Peaches said snidely.

  “Look,” I said, my voice sharp, “we don’t have to help you. We want to help you. If Mr. Albod has been kidnapped, then we must know. So please can the attitude so Axel can reveal some of the truth.”

  Peaches flattened his ears. “I’m only sarcastic to hide my inner pain.”

  I bit back a laugh. “Yes, I know. But we don’t want you to be sarcastic and distant and rude. We want to help. For us to want to help, you have to be a decent animal. I’m not saying perfect, only not so mean.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Peaches answered with a sniff. I did get the feeling he would actually try. What more could I ask for?

  “Now, is everyone ready?” Axel’s words came out clipped, but a twinkle sparked in his eyes. “I can’t keep this urn forever. I’ll need to return it to Della before she realizes the one she owns is a fake.”

  Peaches blanched. “You mean you stole it?”

  Ow, jeez. I rubbed my face in frustration. You mean now the cat was going to have a moral complex about stealing the possible ashes of his employer?

  Now there was a problem?

  I scraped my fingers through my hair trying to dispel some of my irritation. “Peaches, we have to do whatever we can to solve this. No one’s going to come out and say they’ve kidnapped Mr. Albod. You understand that, right?”

  His gaze flicked from me to Axel. “I suppose not.”

  “Since that’s not going to happen, we often have to take things into our own hands. Axel is a powerful wizard.”

  Peaches studied Axel but said nothing.

  “Do you want to know if Mr. Albod is in that urn? I understand if you’re scared.” I rested my palm over my heart. “I’m scared, too. Sometimes we have to take big risks. Giant risks in order to dig up the truth.”

  I studied the cat. He watched the urn as if waiting for it to dart away.

  “Do you think you can go through with this?” The cat didn’t answer. “Peaches?”

  “Hmm?” I nodded to the urn. “Oh yes,” he said quickly. “I must know the truth of what happened.”

  His gaze shifted to Axel. His yellow eyes narrowed, and Peaches said, “Let’s get on with the show.”

  THIRTEEN

  Axel yanked off his shirt.

  A tinge of anxiety fluttered in my chest. “Are you getting nude for this?”

  Some spells required Axel to be completely naked. I didn’t know if this was one of those.

  “Yes.”

  Apparently it was.

  I licked my lips and gazed at the ceiling while he stripped. Wow. I had never noticed so many cobwebs in the beams before. Someone really needed to get up there and dust.

  “You have to as well,” Axel said.

  My heart clenched. “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “For the power this is going to take, yes.”

  I decided to tease him. “I don’t know. I realize you’ll mate for life and everything, but should you be looking at my goods when we’re not officially mated or anything?”

  “Then marry me and we’ll make it official.”

  His gaze speared my heart to my ribs. I sucked air. I couldn’t get enough of it. My chest constricted. My throat closed.

  Axel’s arms surrounded me. “It’s okay. You can breathe. Don’t have a panic attack.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Then don’t have a heart attack.”

  He brushed a loose strand of hair from my face and grinned. “Sorry to take you by surprise.”

  “It didn’t. I mean, you didn’t. Ha ha. I’m fine. Totally fine.”

  “Uh-huh.” He steadied me and only released me when he was sure my legs wouldn’t fold. “Listen, let’s not talk about this now.” He shook his head. “I never should’ve brought it up.”

  “Okay,” I said weakly. “Let’s get on with the spell.”

  “Yes,” Peaches interjected. “Let’s.”

  I barely even noticed myself pulling off my clothes. Marry him? Is that what Axel had really said. No. I hadn’t heard right. I’d made it up in my head. He wouldn’t say those words. Not yet. Not after I’d only just accepted that if we ever allowed our relationship to move to a more physical level, then we would be mated.

  Surely he wouldn’t be talking about marriage so soon after I’d accepted that idea.

  But hadn’t he just said it? Yes, he had. He most definitely had.

  My brain began to float. I fisted my hands and pressed my fingertips into my palms until
the nails bit into the flesh.

  Focus, Pepper.

  I shook out my pent-up angst, rolled my head around a few times and exhaled a plume of air.

  “I’m ready.”

  Darkness filled the room. Candles floated in the air around us. Hugo leaned against my leg. He’d been in the cellar plenty of times before but never when this much magical energy buzzed in the room.

  I patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, boy.”

  Axel’s upper half was visible. The rest of him disappeared behind the altar and table he had readied.

  He pointed his fingers at his shelves and mumbled ingredients. Vials and bags floated in the air toward him. With the tips of his fingers, he unhooked a cauldron from a beam and rested it on the table.

  When everything was set out before him, Axel met my gaze. I shivered. His blue eyes were dark to the point they were almost black. Magic floated around him, and he hadn’t even started the spell.

  “Are you ready?” he said in a husky voice that made my stomach quiver.

  “Yes.” I guessed so. I bit down my anxiety and readied myself. “What do you need?”

  “When I start the spell, I need you to focus your magic on supporting me. See the spell and help it.”

  I cringed. “What do you mean, see the spell and help it?”

  “Just focus on it. That should take care of everything.”

  I cocked my head. “Is this some sort of lesson I’m supposed to learn about my magic?”

  He shook his head. “No. Yes. You’re a head witch. You should know more about your powers.”

  “Thank you, Betty.” I rolled my eyes. “Can we just get on with it?”

  “Absolutely.” He focused his attention on Hugo. “Okay, boy. We’re going to reach a point where I need you to breathe fire. I’m going to throw the cauldron of ingredients into the air, and I need you to roast them. Okay?”

  Hugo shot me a questioning look. “It’s okay, boy,” I cooed. “You can breathe fire when Axel asks you.”

  Okay, Mama.

  I nodded to Axel. “He understands and is ready.”

  “Great.” Axel’s jaw set and his eyes narrowed. “Now prepare yourself. I’m casting a spell that in the end will show us the form of whomever’s ashes these are. This will not be a real person. They will not animate. It will simply be a vision. It may look real, but it isn’t.”

  He studied the cat. “Can you handle seeing your wizard if his image rises from the ashes?”

  Peaches nodded. “I will.”

  Axel rubbed his hands and began chanting. A breeze entered the cellar. Don’t ask me where it came from. In the world of magic, anything was possible.

  Fingers of hair lifted and tickled my cheeks. Brushing it aside, I focused as best I could on Axel.

  He dropped handfuls of powder into the cauldron. After several drops of a clear liquid, the mixture started to hiss. Steam curled from the bowl, bringing with it a noxious scent. My arm wrapped instinctively over my bare belly.

  Focus, Pepper.

  I watched the magic and started seeing strings flowing from the cauldron and connecting back to the vials and bags. It seemed like I was seeing the lines of time. After Axel lifted a can and dropped its contents on the table, a string rose up, connecting the cauldron to the canister.

  It was fascinating.

  As I watched, more and more strings appeared until it was all one large web of colors and lines.

  It was gorgeous.

  Finally the big moment approached. The air thickened as if the spell itself knew what was about to occur and the magic couldn’t wait.

  The mixture inside the cauldron bubbled and churned. The noxious smell passed, and what was left reminded me of earth after a rain.

  Axel lifted the urn and uncapped it. He nodded to Hugo. “Ready, boy?”

  I placed a hand on the dragon’s green-scaled shoulder. He was tense, anticipating whatever would come.

  “He’s ready,” I said.

  Axel poured the gray ashes from the urn into the cauldron. Smoke rose from the bowl. The cauldron bucked and fought as if it wanted to cough out its contents.

  Axel said a few more words; then he lifted the cauldron and tossed the mixture into the air.

  A lump of gray sludge careened toward the ceiling.

  “Now, Hugo,” Axel yelled.

  I focused on the fire and the goo. I wanted to make sure this went right. Magic flared in me as Hugo released a stream of fire.

  The fire enveloped the slurried substance.

  “Focus, Pepper,” Axel said.

  I concentrated on the mixture and watched as the fire curled it into a ball. The flames licked at the ceiling as it molded and carved the ashes into their final shape.

  A long form appeared. It twisted and then uncoiled into spirals reminding me of DNA. The strands bunched up together and then sprang down.

  “It’s working,” Axel said. “The fire is tasting the magic. Molding it.”

  He moved to stand beside me. Never mind that we were still both naked. Now that I thought about it, I think I could’ve done my part clothed.

  I shot Axel a skeptical look that he didn’t catch.

  “Focus, Pepper. It’s losing its shape.”

  Oh crap. I forgot I had an actual job to do. I pointed my attention back on the fire.

  The flames hissed and spat. The whole magical ball had tightened up. I zeroed in on it, willing the spell to unwind and create the form we waited for.

  Magic unfurled from me. I threw it out as a line of absolute determination. I felt it slam into the spell.

  Fingers of flames uncurled. The ball slowly elongated. A form was taking shape. As the flames receded, an oblong figure formed.

  My breath hitched. I waited for it. Waited to see whose body had been placed in that urn.

  At the very last second the fire extinguished and the ball of ashes and magical mixture separated.

  Gray powder hit the floor, sending a cloud of smoke rising in the cellar. The gooey sludge sloshed onto the table, looking more like a gigantic ball of kid’s slime than anything magical.

  No one moved. No one blinked.

  We stood frozen.

  It was Peaches who broke the silence.

  “Would anyone care to explain what happened?”

  Axel crossed to the ashes and dragged his fingers through them. “I can tell you.”

  I cringed. “I’m sorry. Did I mess up the spell? I focused on helping the magic. Did I overdo it?”

  Axel smiled up at me. “No. You saved the spell. If it hadn’t been for you, we would’ve been duped.”

  I twisted my hair over one shoulder. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean”—Axel rose, a palmful of ashes in his hand—“that what we would’ve seen could’ve been Mr. Albod’s body.”

  “And now?” I asked, not understanding.

  “And now”—he dropped a trail of ashes into my palm—“we know that inside that urn was nothing but ash from a fire.”

  I gaped. “What?”

  Axel’s jaw tightened. “Mr. Albod wasn’t in that urn. No one was in that urn because it was a dupe.”

  “So this means…?” Peaches jumped from the couch onto the floor. “That I’m right?”

  Axel’s gaze flickered to mine. “It’s time to go to Garrick.”

  FOURTEEN

  “We have reason to believe that Frederick Albod has been kidnapped.”

  Garrick sat behind his desk with legs kicked up. A half-empty bag of Bugles dangled from his fingers.

  For a brief moment I wondered if Garrick ever capped his fingers with Bugles. Isn’t that what everybody did when they were kids? I always pretended to have witch fingers.

  Ha. Look at me now. I really was a witch.

  I tamped down my initial desire to question Garrick about his snacks and squared my shoulders as I awaited the sheriff’s onslaught of questions.

  Garrick pinched the brim of his hat and slid his fingers down one side. “I’m assu
ming that both of you believe this?”

  Axel nodded. “That’s correct.”

  Garrick spoke before palming a handful of Bugles into his mouth. “What evidence do you have?”

  Here came the tricky part. Luckily Axel took over. “We received a tip from someone close to Mr. Albod.”

  Garrick’s eyes narrowed. “Albod was cremated, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “It wasn’t him,” I chirped.

  Garrick dropped his legs from the desk. “What do you mean?”

  Peaches the Ghost-cat jumped onto the desk. “What she means, sir, is that someone pretended to cremate my master but instead stuck a bunch of tree ashes into an urn.”

  Garrick studied Peaches. “Are you a ghost?”

  The cat’s tail flicked. “I am. In life I was Frederick Albod’s familiar. In death I am his friend. My master was afraid for his life. He believed someone wanted the secrets of the familiar holder.”

  “It’s the reason Willow Dean Gar was murdered,” I said. “We think someone killed her because she wanted to warn me about the critterling.”

  Garrick rubbed a hand down his haggard face. “Has anyone attacked you?”

  “No,” I admitted. “But there are connections here. Albod was never cremated. There’s a good chance someone kidnapped him for information on how to use the familiar vessel for nefarious purposes. Half the town now knows I own it. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “I believe so too, Garrick,” Axel added. “I wouldn’t have come to you unless I was certain.” His expression darkened. “It isn’t Mr. Albod in that urn. It’s only a pile of ashes.”

  Garrick yanked off his hat and tossed it on the desk. He raked his fingers through his brown hair and sighed. “I’m not going to ask how you know this.”

  “Probably for the best. But you’re no longer simply dealing with a murder. You’ve also got a missing person. One who’s been proclaimed dead and whose property is being sold off, piece by piece.”

  “Yep.” I clicked my tongue. “Even Betty’s interested in the house.”

  Garrick’s chair groaned as he leaned back. “What about the daughter? Does she know?”