by Jane Hinchey
“What’s the last thing you remember, Janet?” I pressed, knowing time was running out.
“Who are you?” And then her eyes glazed over, and her lids closed.
“Damn it!” I slammed my fist into the table by her head. I’d lost her. Shaking my hands, I flexed my fingers, took a deep breath, and tried again. Nothing. She was gone. But Irving and Claude were still here.
I hurried over to Irving. Closing my eyes, I grounded myself, called to my magic, then placed my hand on his forehead. His eyes sprung open.
“Hi, Irving,” I said, peering down at him. “Can you remember how you died?” I lost so much time explaining to my reanimated subjects that they were dead, I needed to cut to the chase and get the information I needed.
“Well, hello,” he drawled, eyes glued to my face. “Are you here for storytime?”
Ewww. “No,” I grumbled. “Aren’t you with Peggy?”
“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” he assured me.
“Your spirit may be willing, but your body can’t follow through,” I told him. “I need you to focus for me, Irving. You, Claude, and Janet were all killed. Who did it? What did you see?”
“I’d like to see you… naked,” he leered. I rolled my eyes. Wonderful. Even in death, Irving had a one-track mind.
“Come on, Irving,” I pleaded. “You’re a Warlock. Were you hexed?”
He paused, studying my face as if committing it to memory.
“I saw…” he began.
“Yes?”
“Peggy in this little blue number, lots of lace.” He grinned wickedly, then his face went slack, his eyes glazed over, and he was gone.
I released my hold, and my chin dropped to my chest. I had one last shot at this. I needed to get Claude to talk.
“Are you a Necromancer?” Jax’s voice from the doorway made me jump.
I swiveled to face him. “No. I’m a Witch. Talking to the dead is my superpower.”
“That’s how you solve your cases. The victims tell you who did it.” He strolled into the room, watching me. The tone in his voice told me he thought my power was somehow cheating.
“How long were you standing there?” I arched a brow. “Because if you witnessed Janet and Irving’s reanimation, you’d have noticed I got nothing useful out of them. I can bring them back for seconds, that’s it. And once it’s done, it’s done. Often those few seconds are wasted with them being confused and me explaining that they’re dead.”
“Let me try.”
I barked out a laugh. “You can’t even see sigils, and you want to try and reanimate the dead?”
He snorted. “Of course not. I want you to reanimate Claude, and I’ll do the talking.” He paused, then took a step toward me. “If you focus all your attention on holding the reanimation, maybe we’ll get more time.”
I cocked my head and considered what he’d said. It was worth a try. If I wasn’t distracted with trying to get information from him, I could channel all of my energy into keeping Claude reanimated, at least long enough for Jax to get something useful. I nodded. “Let’s do it.”
I stood at the head of Claude’s table, out of view. Jax stood to the left. At my nod, he pulled the sheet down to Claude’s shoulders, then looked at me. “Ready?” he asked.
I nodded. “Ready.”
Taking a deep breath, I placed my palm on Claude’s forehead and closed my eyes, focusing all my attention on the bond between us, of my life force surging into his.
“Claude, Jax Lincoln from Bounty,” Jax said. “I’m here to investigate the murders of Irving the Warlock and Janet the Water Sprite. What can you tell me about that?” Interesting tact, not mentioning Claude’s own death.
“They’re dead?” Claude cried.
“Sorry, but we’re on a time crunch here, Claude. What do you remember? When was the last time you saw them?”
“It was after storytime. I was leaving Eileen’s room to return to my own. There’s usually quite a shuffle going on in the halls at that time of night. Single beds, you see. Okay for storytime, but not so great for sleeping together. Sleep sleeping, that is.”
“I get it,” Jax said. “Who did you see?”
“Irving leaving Peggy’s room. Clarence leaving Janet’s room. Alfred patrolling the halls cos he can’t sleep.”
“Anyone else?”
“Caught sight of a nurse turning the corner. Only caught the back of their scrubs, so I couldn’t tell you who it was.”
“What else? Did anything unusual happen?” Jax pressed.
Claude frowned. “Dot,” he said.
“What about her?”
“She was farther down the hallway. Hang on, I may have got that wrong. Maybe the nurse was actually Dot? I think I may be confused.”
“In what way?”
“I don’t know. It could’ve been my eyes, you know, seeing things.”
My connection with Claude started to waver. He was slipping away. “Jax,” I whispered, straining to hold onto the dead man.
“What else? What else can you tell me about that night?” Jax asked.
“I think… I think I died,” Claude whispered. “I was sitting on the side of my bed, and there was this searing pain.”
“Where?”
“My heart. I died, didn’t I?”
There was a pause, then Jax said softly, “I’m afraid so, Claude. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay. It’s what I’m here for anyway. Tell Eileen I love her.” Despite my best efforts, I lost the connection. Staggering backward, I sucked in a breath and shook my hand, dispelling the pins and needles sensation invading my palm. I’d held the link longer than I’d ever held one before, and to say it made my knees weak was an understatement.
“You okay?” Jax asked, hurrying to my side.
“I’ll be fine. I just need a minute to regroup.” Doubled over, I rested my hands on my knees and studied the floor while sucking in a few deep breaths and considering what Claude had told us. “Are there any marks on the bodies?”
“Marks?”
“Sigils, talismans, something binding the victim to the killer.”
“You didn’t check earlier?” Jax asked, surprised that I hadn’t checked the first time I’d visited the Waiting Room. The truth was after my failed reanimation attempt, I’d been distracted and hadn’t done my job correctly. It was embarrassing to admit such a thing. Heck, back when I was SIA, I had a reputation for being the best. The best marksman, the best investigator, the best interrogator. Now I wasn’t SIA, and neither was I the best. I sighed, shaking my head. “Nope. I looked for signs of injury.”
“Right,” he said under his breath. I heard the rustle of fabric and Jax’s footsteps as he slowly worked his way around the table as he examined Claude’s body.
Straightening, I crossed to the table where Janet lay and folded the sheet down once more. “There has to be something tying them to the killer,” I whispered to myself. “Unless the killer took something of theirs and managed to bind them without leaving anything behind.”
“That’s possible?” Jax asked, overhearing me.
“It’s certainly harder. The connection would be weaker, but if the killer took, say, a strand of hair….” I trailed off, an idea striking me. “Check their scalps.” What better way to hide a sigil than beneath someone’s hair?
I was leaning over Janet, my nose two inches from her head when Dot’s cauldron appeared with a loud pop. I froze and slowly turned my head, eying it warily. It looked harmless enough, sitting between us and the doorway. Something bubbled inside. I slowly straightened, craning my neck to get a peek.
“What’s that doing here?” Jax asked, taking a step backward. I turned my head, watching as he slowly shuffled back, putting as much distance between himself and the cauldron as possible.
“Interesting,” I said, more to myself than to him.
“What is?” He didn’t take his eyes off the cauldron.
“You have an automatic response.” I
nodded toward the cauldron. “It was the same when it was in Clarence’s room. Some instinct kept you from stepping inside. And now you’re getting as far away as possible.”
He shot me a look as he backed up against the wall, unable to retreat any farther. “If you want to know if my spidey senses are tingling, then yes, they most certainly are.” He pointed toward the cauldron. “There’s something about that thing that just…my fur is all on end.”
Like I said, interesting.
“Dot says it isn’t her,” I said, walking up to the cauldron and peering inside. I didn’t get any vibe from it one way or another. The purple goop hadn’t been harmful, just messy, and it had been easily dealt with. I had no reason to suspect this time would be any different.
“It’s her cauldron, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “As far as I know.”
“Then how can it not be her?”
I circled the cauldron. I couldn’t see what was bubbling away in the bottom. “Maybe it’s a diversion?” Even as I said it, I knew I was right. My eyes locked with Jax’s, and just as he shouted, “Get away from that thing!” it erupted. Choking black smoke gushed out of it, rolling in giant waves across the floor, filling the Waiting Room.
“Run!” Jax shouted. The smoke was already waist high and rising, stinging my eyes and nose. I could reach the door easily, but Jax was right across the room. He wouldn’t make it before the smoke obscured everything. Holding my hands out, I chanted a cleaning spell, but the smoke remained, roiling and curling as if it were a living thing. My skin started to sting like a bad sunburn—this time, whatever was in the cauldron was toxic.
“Midnight,” Jax choked, surging toward me, only the smoke swallowed him up. Squeezing my eyes shut, I focused on him, using my magic to pull him toward me. He came with a thump, his body rocketing into mine and knocking us both to the floor.
“Oomph,” he grunted.
“Crawl to the door.” I pushed him off me, buried my nose in the crook of my elbow, and belly crawled across the floor. Visibility was practically zero, and the stinging was increasing, but the door wasn’t far away. All we had to do was get on the other side of it.
We blindly dragged ourselves across the floor. My lungs burned, my eyes streamed, and my skin felt red raw.
“Here, take my hand!” I couldn’t see who the voice belonged to, but I blindly held out my hand. Strong fingers grasped mine and pulled me from the room. I slid across the threshold to breathe in great gulps of fresh air.
“Is she okay?” I recognized Eva Argent’s voice and cracked open an eye to see the ethereal beauty standing over me.
“I’m fine,” I croaked.
“I beg to differ. You barely have any skin on your bones.”
“Jax?”
“He’s here,” Eva assured me.
“Where?” My hand flailed around, searching for him, needing to feel him to reassure myself he’d made it out. Eva knelt by my side, gingerly took my hand, and placed it on Jax’s wrist. His skin was sticky, and I knew he’d lost as much skin as I had.
“Jax?”
Nothing. No response.
“He’s out cold. Which is probably a good thing,” Eva said.
“Stand back,” the same male voice as before commanded, and I struggled to focus on who it belonged to. Eva dutifully moved away, and then Troy Pickering was kneeling by my side. “Open up,” he commanded, pointing to my mouth. I pried my lips apart, wincing at the sting. Troy shoved something inside my mouth. It tasted like mint and aniseed. “It’ll help with the pain,” he told me before moving to Jax and administering the same.
He was right. It was some sort of leaf, and soon I was blessedly numb.
“Let’s get them to the infirmary,” Troy said, standing.
“No need.” My voice was as raspy as a bucket of nails. “I can heal us.”
Closing my eyes, I silently chanted a healing spell in my head, pushing my magic from my fingertips and into Jax, where my hand touched his wrist. I could feel the magic swirl around us, lift me up and twirl me around in a sea of golden sparkles before gently lowering me back to the floor as if I were made of fine china.
Opening my eyes, I was relieved to discover my eyelids worked. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, delighted the pain had gone. Sitting up, I did a quick reconnaissance of my body. All healed. I turned to Jax, who was groaning next to me.
Leaning over him, I brushed my hand over his forehead. His eyes fluttered open. “Hey.” He smiled, a dreamy, sleepy smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?”
“Good. Better.” His eyes left mine to look over my shoulder. “What on earth was that?”
“We don’t know,” Eva responded. “But whatever it was has totally destroyed the remains.”
Jax and I both clambered to our feet. One glance into the Waiting Room confirmed what Eva had said. The bodies of Claude, Irving, and Janet were nothing but ash and dust on the tables. A wave of dizziness had me clutching at the doorframe to remain upright.
“Hey.” Jax slid an arm around my waist. “Are you okay?” His breath was hot in my ear, and I shivered, my legs turning into noodles.
“I’ve used up a lot of magic in a short expanse of time,” I replied. “I just need to recharge.”
“Coffee?”
“Definitely.”
Jax helped me to a big plump couch in the living room and sent Troy off to get us refreshments. After reassuring the residents who’d gathered around making a fuss that we were both okay, he sank down next to me, his head flopping back on the cushions with a dramatic sigh.
“Okay, so I’m thinking that was either an attack meant for us—”
“Or it was someone cleaning up, getting rid of the evidence,” I cut in.
“And we were in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he finished.
I turned my head where it rested on the cushion next to his. “Which was quite fortuitous for the killer.”
He arched a brow. “Wasn’t it, though?”
Dot the Slayer approached, two cups balanced on her walker. We watched as she shuffled across the room, taking an age to reach us.
“Troy asked me to deliver these,” she said when she finally got within arms’ reach. “Something about since you’re able to heal yourself, his services aren’t needed, and he’ll get back to work.”
Jax reached forward and picked up both cups from the walker, handing one to me. I took a grateful sip.
“Thanks, Dot,” I said.
“That wasn’t me.” She angled her head in the direction of the Waiting Room. I remembered what she’d told me earlier, how she hadn’t used her cauldron in ages, yet it kept appearing around the home, sprouting non-sensical potions. Only this time, the brew had been deadly.
“Any ideas on who’s taken control of your cauldron, Dot?” I asked.
Her eyes rounded. “You believe me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
She scoffed. “None of these knuckleheads do.” She looked to the left, then to the right, then leaned toward me, beckoning me to come closer. I obliged, prying myself off the sofa to lean toward her, turning my head slightly, so her mouth was aligned with my ear, assuming she wanted to tell me something in confidence.
“Have you seen my cat?” Her words were not a whisper, and I jerked back, rubbing my ear. I’d taken quite a lot of abuse since arriving at the Bewildered Retirement Home, and quite frankly, I was tired of it. First, Carbonne had beamed me in the side of the head with his shovel, then I’d had Dot’s cauldron explode on me twice, and now she was shouting in my ear.
“Do you even have a cat, Dot?” I asked, slumping back and crossing my arms, irritated.
“I do. He’s lovely. He’s got silver eyes and gray fur, and his name is Banks.” She beamed at me.
Through narrow eyes, I glared at her. “That’s not your cat. That’s my cat.”
She stiffened and returned my glare. “Is not. He’s mine.” Then
she yelled, “She’s trying to steal my cat! Thief!”
“Oh my Goddess.” I tipped my head back and examined the ceiling. “I can’t even.”
Hettie hurried over and ushered Dot away, asking questions about her cat and mouthing sorry to me. I rolled my head toward Jax. “Where is Banks anyway? Last I saw him, he was going to find you.”
Jax shrugged. “Dunno. Haven’t seen him in a while. Don’t worry, he’s probably found a cozy spot to take a nap.”
“As long as it's not in Dot’s room,” I grumbled. My stomach growled, and I quickly placed my hand over it as if I could shush it.
“I should have thought to get you some food to go with that coffee,” Jax apologized, face contrite. “You burned up a lot of energy today. You must be hungry.”
Starving! “I could go for a bite,” I admitted.
“How about we hit the café?” he suggested. “And we can talk about the case without all these ears listening in.”
I chuckled. “All these ears probably can’t hear a thing anyway, but you’re right. I need to eat, and we need to plan our next course of action.”
9
“We need to investigate Dot.” Jax sunk his teeth into another muffin, and I cursed his metabolism. It wasn’t fair that he could devour two muffins in the same day and not gain an ounce of weight. I put on ten pounds just by looking at the darn things. Which was why I was currently picking at a salad and doing my best to pretend it was something deep-fried and salt-laden.
“I don’t think it’s her,” I protested, shoving a forkful of bean sprouts into my mouth.
“I disagree,” he argued. “I think she’s using dementia as a cover. She’s smarter than she lets on.”
“Oh, I don’t disagree that she’s smart.” I speared a cherry tomato. “I just don’t think she’s our killer.”
Jax marked off on his fingers. “Her cauldron keeps turning up. Claude saw her on the night they were killed. She’s confessed.”
I finished chewing and pointed my fork at him. “They all confessed.”
“Maybe they’re all in on it. Maybe they’re protecting Dot.”
“What’s her motive?”
“How about wanting to spring this joint? I’ve heard rumors that she keeps trying to fly her broom out of here.”
