Spellbound After Midnight (Ever Dark, Ever Deadly Book 1)

by Jenna Collett

  “I’m listening.”

  Slumping into the chair, I continued. “She offered to trade a family heirloom for a dress and a pair of shoes. I cast an illusion spell. It was an innocent—and legal, I might add—transaction.”

  Derrick studied my face as if the action alone could unearth the smallest lie. Maybe it could. I felt thoroughly exposed beneath his stare.

  “So, you used your magic and sent her off to the ball?”

  I inclined my head, imitating his sarcastic demeanor from before. “I’m a witch, Detective. It’s what I do.”

  The corner of his mouth hitched, and a tiny thrill shot through my veins. One point to the witch. He hadn’t expected me to throw his words back in his face. My victory dimmed when he made another notation in his book, this one longer. I struggled to contain my curiosity. What was he writing about me? Probably nothing good.

  He snapped the journal closed, making it impossible to find out, and eyed me warily. “Mind explaining why you were in your shop last night and not at the ball? The royal family invited every eligible woman in the kingdom. You’re the right age, unmarried. It begs the question.”

  “Not every eligible woman is interested in marrying a prince. Especially not when it’s based on a single encounter in the presence of hundreds of competitors. There are better ways to find a wife, Detective.”

  “Is that so?” His gaze traveled over the shabby carpet, a broken shelf I hadn’t gotten around to fixing, and lastly, over my wrinkled gown. I resisted the urge to smooth the fabric. My clothes might not be the latest fashion or ironed, but that didn’t make me a leech looking to climb to the top of the social ladder.

  “Not even if it could improve your circumstances?” he asked.

  His insinuation made my back straighten, and a swell of anger hid the prick of hurt from his demeaning remark. “My circumstances are fine, Detective.” They were far from it, but I’d drink my worst potion before I revealed that nugget of truth.

  Hearing my indignant tone, Derrick retrieved his notebook. If he made another notation, I swore…

  “Did you two discuss anything personal? How would you describe her state of mind?”

  Thrown by his change of topic, I stumbled over my answer. Was he purposely trying to confuse me? I gathered my thoughts, thinking back to Ella’s demeanor.

  “Well, she was desperate after I refused to help her. That’s why I reconsidered. She seemed happy when I cast the spell but it only lasted a moment. It felt like she wanted to tell me something but changed her mind. I’d say she was upset when she left, almost resigned. I had a bad feeling.”

  “A bad feeling?”

  “Yes, an omen. As a witch, there are times I feel negative energy on a physical level. There are crystals that amplify emotion. I planned on using one to pinpoint—”

  He sighed and pushed away from the counter. Irritation rolled off him in waves. His thumb and forefinger rubbed the bridge of his nose as if a headache beat behind his eyelids.

  “That’s all for now. If you remember anything else, you can contact me at the agency.”

  His dismissal stung. I’d gone from character witness to crackpot in seconds. “You think I’m mad, don’t you? All of this,”—I waved my hand around the shop—“the spells, the supernatural, you don’t believe it’s worth your time.”

  Derrick’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “I believe in facts. Evidence. Potions and spells don’t catch killers. You dabble in illusion and feed on people’s weaknesses.”

  I pushed out of the chair, my face hot. “That’s not fair!”

  His eyes darkened in challenge. “Is that so?” He strode across the wooden beams, his boots echoing with each step until he came to a stop at the hatch in the floor. The air crackled with tension. “Prove it. You say you have nothing to hide? Let’s see why you’re determined to keep me out of your cellar.”

  My mouth opened and closed in protest. How had our conversation shifted so quickly? Why had I baited him? His beliefs didn’t matter. He wasn’t the only one in the kingdom who found supernatural abilities to be a waste of time. Over the years, people relied on magic less and less, yet his indifference hurt.

  “It’s mostly cobwebs and broken furniture.”

  “Open it, or my men conduct a search.”

  I swallowed my denial and lifted the hatch. Derrick lit a lantern and disappeared down the steps, leaving me to hover on the landing, biting my thumbnail and praying he wouldn’t look too close.

  “See? No dead bodies.”

  My joke fell flat. In the cellar, Derrick bumped into a cabinet and muffled an oath. I chalked that one up to a win and moved down two steps. The light from his lantern illuminated a shelving unit along the wall, and I held my breath as he rifled through the drawers.

  Please, don’t find—

  He found them. Vials clinked together as he removed a small box from the bottom drawer. The one with a skull and crossbones burned into the wood. They needed to stop doing that. It was a dead giveaway.

  “Those aren’t mine. They were in with another order, and I was storing them until they could be properly disposed of.” Yeah, that sounded believable.

  “Either way, they’re coming with me.” He slipped the narrow box into his coat and climbed the steps. “You can pay the fines for these at the agency.”

  “Fines! Be reasonable.”

  “I am. You’re lucky I’m not having you arrested.”

  I curled my fingers into fists, afraid I might go full witch and turn him into a toad. He’d make a good toad. He had the personality for it.

  Not realizing how close he’d come to living the amphibian life, Derrick walked toward the entrance. “I’ll be in touch if I have any further questions. Don’t leave the kingdom until we’ve cleared you for travel.”

  I nodded, still steaming from his interrogation. Sylvia was right. He was handsome, but she’d forgotten to add cold and calculating to her description. Loather of all things magic. Good prospect indeed—I’d rather eat poisoned mushrooms than become his wife. Must remember to cast a blessing spell on whoever that wretched soul turned out to be. She’d need it.

  He pulled open the door, and the little bell jingled. How could something so cheery accompany his exit? A gong or a crack of thunder would have been more appropriate.

  Left alone, I sank into the chair and retrieved Ella’s ring. Exhaustion hung like a weight around my neck. I squeezed my fist, feeling the metal warm against my skin. That poor girl. It wasn’t enough to die, she had to have Detective Arrogant assigned to her case too. At least he hadn’t discovered my connection to Argus, but now, I had a missed payment and a fine to pay. As wrong as it felt, so soon after Ella’s murder, I had to pawn the ring.

  “Sorry, Ella,” I whispered. “Wherever you are.” I shivered and rubbed my arms. In the moments since Derrick’s departure, an icy chill had filled the shop. Frost crystallized on the windows, and my breath fogged around my lips. How strange.

  I moved to the window, apprehension slowing my steps. The frost was on the inside. Pressing my finger against the glass, I left a warm print in the ice and squinted. There was something else there, faint letters, as if someone had written them before the ice formed. As quickly as it appeared, the chill faded, and the frost melted. But not before I’d made out the words. Speaking them aloud like they came from one of my spells, I couldn’t deny the two words held a certain power all of their own.

  Help me.

  Chapter 4

  “You’re going to melt it down?”

  The pawnshop owner inspected the ring with a small lens. “Yup. It’s worth more as scrap metal. I’ll give you fifty royal coins for it.”

  “Fifty?” My stomach sank. That wasn’t enough to pay my fines. “It’s an antique. Can’t you do better?”

  He tossed the ring onto the polished counter, where it clattered to a rest near a tray of silver trinkets. “I already told you, it ain’t worth it. This here is what I call a sentimental piece.” His thick m
ustache hid his lips when he grinned. “You have my sentiments for how cheap it is.”

  I narrowed my eyes at his joke and scooped up the ring. Cheap, my foot. It had value, sentimental or not. I couldn’t let it go for fifty.

  The moment the ring’s metal touched the mark on my palm, it became warm. It was a pleasant feeling, something I was growing used to, like wrapping cold fingers around a steaming mug of tea. All the way into town, I’d tried to shake the tacky thought of profiting from Ella’s murder. Something strange had happened in my shop yesterday when I’d decided to sell it. Those icy words scrawled on the frosted window, barely visible to the naked eye, had me looking over my shoulder. I must have imagined them. It was probably a manifestation of my guilt, or children playing pranks. The ominous phrase repeated over and over in my mind.

  Help me.

  “I’ll keep the ring.” Tucking it into my pocket, I reached for the bag at my feet. “Will you take these instead?” The knot inside my chest tightened as I placed a stack of worn books on the counter. They were my mother’s, a collection that was slowly dwindling. The leather covers had darkened with age, and the parchment had warped through the years. A faint scent of must clung to the pages. “Seasoning the spells,” my mother had called it. Mostly, it just made me sneeze.

  The man rubbed the white whiskers on his chin and studied the volumes, running his stubby fingers over the text. “Now, these, I can use. People like to dabble in tonics and they usually have no idea what they’re doing. I’ll mark up the books, and they won’t know the difference.”

  A ghostly finger ran up my spine. Ugh. There were definitely generations of dead family witches cursing my name.

  “How much for them?”

  “I can do one hundred and twenty.” The man picked his teeth with a dirty thumbnail, then returned to inspecting the books. I stifled a groan as he left a smudged fingerprint on the cover.

  “I want two hundred.”

  “One-fifty.”

  “Two hundred, and I don’t place a curse on your establishment.”

  He blinked in surprise. There was a beat of silence before he audibly swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Deal.”

  He counted the coins, then yanked my mother’s precious books from view. Another piece of her gone. The only consolation was, I’d made enough to pay my fines. Argus was a different story. A vision of me marching into the agency, slamming my money on Derrick’s desk, and smugly walking out flashed through my mind. The image morphed into his eyes, darkening in approval, a slow smile spreading across his lips. A hot flush scalded my neck, and I shook the picture away. Why, for the love of spell books, did I care about his approval or the way he smiled?

  He had invaded my shop.

  Made my money problems worse.

  Messed with my head and my plans.

  But he had smelled good.

  I clenched my fists. He didn’t deserve a single thought, not when I needed to earn a substantial sum before gang members started breaking down my door.

  “If you have any more of those books, I’ll gladly—” The man stopped mid-sentence, noticing my scowl. “Well, if you change your mind.”

  Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. I had one other option but it would mean admitting I’d gotten in over my head and ignored some helpful advice. If I remembered correctly, friends didn’t let friends borrow money from gangsters. Too bad I hadn’t listened.

  Slinging my now empty bag over my shoulder, I left the shop.

  I waited until the sun dipped low behind the buildings, casting a deep purple glow across the sky. The streets emptied as the market closed. People headed home for dinner or holed up in taverns to wash down the day with a pint of ale. I cut through a shadowy alley on the outskirts of town and came to the entrance of a small dwelling. Candlelight flickered in the windows of Second Chance Souls, doing its best to stave off the growing darkness.

  As if on cue, the front door swung open, and a young woman charged down the flagstone steps into the street, her long satin skirt rustling where it swished around her ankles. She snapped her fingers at a waiting carriage. I might as well have been a lamppost for all the attention she paid me. As her carriage rumbled away, I retraced her steps and entered the shop.

  Swaths of colorful fabric hung from the ceiling of a cozy parlor. Pedestal candles shed their light over the intricate woven patterns. A multitude of flames created dancing shadows that undulated on the walls, and in the corner, a bowl of incense burned. The acrid smell filled my nose and made my eyes water.

  “Come in, child. The spirits welcome you,” a velvety voice crooned from an adjoining room.

  A wall of hanging beads separated the two spaces, and I pushed through them, letting my fingertips glide over their polished surface. The beads clinked together before swaying back into place. Seated behind an oval table, an ancient woman bent over a glass sphere. Her long fingers were curled at the knuckles. Stick-straight gray hair hung past her shoulders, framing a face of pale, wrinkled skin.

  She lifted her head and squinted through a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. “Oh, it’s you.”

  My lips flattened in disapproval. “Honestly, Viv, I can’t believe you’re still pulling this scam. Look at you. That outfit is ridiculous.”

  Vivian James shrugged and cracked her knuckles. “It’s realistic though, isn’t it? The wig is a nice touch.” She curled her finger around a long gray lock. “Don’t stare at me like that. My last appointment had it coming. She was infuriating and refused to work with me, said I didn’t look the part. As if my abilities depend on my age.” She scoffed. “Apparently, Vivian the Crone sells better than Vivian the twenty-something medium. It’s why my grandmother does more business than me.”

  “I’m sure Winifred would be thrilled to learn you’re using her likeness.”

  Vivian resettled the spectacles on her nose with her index finger. “It’s temporary, and my grandmother is out of town on an extended trip. She’ll never know.”

  “Oh, I bet she knows. She probably saw it in one of her visions. There isn’t much you can hide from an oracle.”

  “Tell me about it. Try growing up with that woman knowing everything you’re planning to do before you do it.” Vivian pushed out of her chair and stretched her shoulders. “Do me a favor and close up? I’m done for the night.”

  I headed back through the beads and turned the lock on the door. A sign hung in the window, and I flipped it over while Vivian droned on from the other room.

  “You know, this disguise was worth seeing the look on Mrs. Saunders’ face when I revealed the location of her dead husband’s hidden funds.”

  “The Saunders’ fortune? He must have had thousands stashed away.”

  “Oh, he did, but it’s gone now. When he realized his wife cheated on him with his business partner, he spent it all. Tonight, I had the distinct pleasure of sending his widow on a wild goose chase, courtesy of her husband’s ghost. He finally found the peace he needed to cross over knowing all she’ll find is a buried box of receipts.”

  “Savage,” I said, making my way back into the room. Vivian’s wig rested on a wooden stand while she leaned over a porcelain basin, water dripping down her neck. Gone were the wrinkles, revealing smooth, youthful skin. Glossy raven curls spilled down her shoulders as she scrubbed the age spots from her hands. After wiping her palms with a rag, she stowed her spectacles in a drawer.

  The transformation was awe-inspiring. Vivian wasn’t afraid to play dirty, even impersonating an old woman to serve the lingering souls who roamed the kingdom. The dead were big business, and she had a near-constant stream of clients. I didn’t envy her gift though. I’d take magic over fulfilling a ghost’s final wishes any day of the week.

  “So, how’s the shop?” she asked, resuming her place at the table.

  “That’s why I’m here.” I sunk into an adjacent chair and rested my chin in my hand. “I need a favor.”

  Vivian’s brown eyes narrowed. “What favor?�
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  The truth sat heavy on my tongue. “I need a tiny loan to pay back a creditor.”

  “A loan?” A second later, she gasped and slammed her palm on the table, making the glass sphere rattle. “Creditor, my ass. You borrowed money from that loan shark, didn’t you? What’s his name? Shmargus or something? A total crook.”

  “It’s Argus, and you’re right, I shouldn’t have taken the money, but I was going to lose the magic shop and have the rest of my mother’s things seized as collateral. I had no choice.” A lump clogged my throat, making it difficult to swallow. I hung my head. “There are fines too,” I mumbled.

  “Fines! What for?”

  “A royal detective found the box of wisteria spinova powder I hid in the basement. He was less than thrilled about it.”

  “Why was there a detective in your basement?”

  Peeking between the thick strands of my hair, I gave her a sheepish shrug. “I might be involved in a murder investigation.”

  Vivian’s lips opened and closed like a gasping fish. It would have been comical if I didn’t already feel so lousy. Finally, she held up her hand.

  “Hold on. Not the girl from the ball?”

  The pang of guilt was back, laced with a healthy dose of self-loathing. “Her name was Ella Lockwood, and she came to see me before the ball. All she needed was a gown and a pair of shoes. There didn’t seem to be any harm, and she was going to pay me.” It wasn’t worth it to mention the carriage. Something told me exploding pumpkins wouldn’t help my cause.

  “You used magic, didn’t you? An illusion?”

  I nodded, unable to meet her eyes.

  “Tess, you know what happens when you try to cast illusions!”

  “Yeah, apparently, people end up dead.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Trust me, I’m not laughing.” I blew out my cheeks. “They’ve assigned a royal detective to the case. His name’s Derrick Chambers, and I can tell you right now, he doesn’t like witches. One of my ancestors probably sacrificed his family’s goats or something.”