Water sloshed in the pot as I swung it over the grate in the fireplace. A few pieces of kindling and a couple jabs with the iron poker stoked the dying embers to life. The fire crackled, and the scent of smoke wafted in the air.
I slumped into a chair and waited for the water to boil. It had felt like ages since I’d last slept, but even so, my body hummed with leftover energy. Tomorrow, after a good night’s sleep, I’d find a way to come up with the rest of the money, but for now, a cup of tea liberally laced with my mother’s famous sleeping powder would help to put the entire night behind me. A witch needed her beauty sleep. Unskilled witches needed twice as much. Unskilled witches hounded by thugs and overachieving detectives, well, they needed to be put into a powder-induced coma.
I prepared the tea from memory, dropping a pinch of powder into my cup. Mint leaves followed. Breathing in the fragrant steam, I took a tentative sip that warmed my insides. Waves of heat from the fireplace soothed my aching muscles and dried my damp hair. The potion took effect, and soon, sleep wove its tendrils around my body. My head lolled to the side.
It was as my eyes were closing that I heard a faint rustling sound, like leaves scattering across the beams. The temperature plunged. I shivered.
Something was wrong.
Struggling to stay awake, I peeked through heavy eyelids. A figure moved into my line of vision, but it was too late. The sleeping powder dragged me under and shrouded my final thought in a dreamy fog.
***
I woke to darkness.
The grandfather clock chimed, and I pressed my fingers into my eyelids to relieve my blurred vision. It was freezing! With a shudder, I glanced at the fireplace to find the embers still glowing. It shouldn’t be this cold. My breath expelled in white puffs made visible by a strip of moonlight.
A strange sensation flowed through my body as I remembered the eerie feeling of being watched before falling asleep. Was someone inside the shop? My heart pounded faster when the clock continued to chime. At the twelfth bell, it stopped.
I held my breath. Nothing moved. A strangled laugh caught in my throat. I was being ridiculous. Then, from behind, a bottle dropped from a shelf and rolled across the wooden beams. I froze, too afraid to look.
“Is someone there?” My voice cracked. Fear grew like vines around my ankles, rooting me to the floor. A burning pain sliced through my palm. The tattooed symbols were glowing.
“Help me,” came a soft whisper.
My chest constricted. I turned toward the rasping sound. Unable to blink, I watched a shimmering figure float closer. The woman’s hair flowed around her face as if she were underwater. She wore a ball gown studded with silver beading. I knew that gown. I knew that face. I finally blinked, hoping the specter would vanish, and was horrified yet slightly relieved when she didn’t.
“Ella? Is that you?”
The woman nodded. Her image wavered as she drifted into the shaft of moonlight, almost becoming one with the bright beam.
Her lips parted, and she whispered again, “I need your help.”
Chapter 6
“Open up!”
Vivian’s door vibrated where I pounded my hands against it. Eventually, light appeared at the window, and she arrived rubbing sleep from her eyes. The latch turned with an audible click, and I charged into the parlor, sending Vivian back on her heels.
“What are you doing here? It’s after midnight.” She tightened the belt on her silk robe and stifled a yawn.
I ignored her question and searched the shadows. Had Ella followed me? My muscles burned, and my side ached from running the entire way into town. I hadn’t handled the situation at my shop well. Then again, what was the proper reaction when you came face-to-face with a dead girl? Fainting into a pile on the floor had been a real concern. I might be best friends with a medium, but I’d never actually seen a ghost.
“What are you looking for?”
Pushing through the beaded curtain, I stopped. Vivian bumped into me.
“Not what—who. Over there.”
She stilled as her gaze landed on the ghostly woman dressed in a ball gown. “Is that who I think it is?”
“That’s Ella Lockwood, the girl I told you about.”
“I don’t understand. Can you see her?”
A hint of hysteria tinged my voice. “Not only can I see her, she spoke to me. An actual ghost, see-through and everything! This isn’t happening. I need to sit down, but she’s too close to the chairs.”
Vivian pressed a slender hand to her throat. “She can’t hurt you. The poor thing is more scared of you than you are her.”
“You seriously underestimate the horror of seeing dead people,” I whispered. “What do we do? Make her go away.”
Vivian rolled her eyes. “Tess, you can’t snap your fingers and get rid of a ghost. They have to leave on their own when they’re ready. My entire line of work is based around that concept.”
“That’s why I’m here.” I ground my teeth together. “Do the thing you do with your customers.”
“It’s not that simple.” She approached Ella slowly, holding up her hands as if nearing a skittish animal. “Excuse me… Ella, right? You need to walk toward the light. Everything will be okay.”
Ella stared blankly at us. Her form was a faint flicker in the dark room. She gestured with her pale hands.
“There isn’t any.”
Vivian’s brow creased. “There’s no light?”
Ella shook her head, sending her blonde curls swirling in the air.
I tapped Vivian on the shoulder. “Is that bad?”
“It’s not ideal,” she responded under her breath, pulling me aside while Ella drifted over the floorboards, intrigued by a shelf of colored medallions. I watched out of the corner of my eye, afraid to lose sight of her.
“She has unfinished business, doesn’t she?” I asked.
“Murder victims usually do. A light won’t appear until she’s found peace. What I don’t understand is, how can you see her? It’s rare for someone who isn’t a medium. Often, people can sense a spirit, and we attribute that kind of experience to a haunting—but it’s unusual for non-mediums to see them, let alone hear them speak.”
I opened my palm, revealing the ring’s symbols. “This might be why. It’s a spell marker. They’re supposed to fade when an illusion does, but Ella’s was cut short. If she died while under my spell, it could explain why there’s a connection between us.”
“That makes sense.” Vivian bit her lip in thought. “A medium’s purpose is to help the dead. Witches help the living. But the lines got blurred, and your magical link wasn’t severed with her death. Your connection might be what’s keeping her tethered to this side—which means, if you want her gone, you’ll have to help her…again.”
Another complication. Between Argus, the detective, and now, Ella, I was giving black cats and broken mirrors a run for their money.
“When did she first appear?”
“Midnight, after the final chime.”
Vivian nodded. “Time of death. It’s when her ghostly form will be strongest. As the night wears on, she’ll fade, but she’ll reappear once her essence grows strong again.”
This was insane. “So, what does she need to cross over?” I asked anxiously. “A chance to say goodbye to her family? A letter to her lover? What?” A frigid chill flowed through my body, and I let out a strangled cry as Ella’s haunting face appeared inches from mine.
“I need you to find my killer.”
Vivian chuckled. “You asked.” Moving away from us, she picked up a tea set and placed it on the séance table. Pulling out the chair next to her, she patted the cushion. “Here, Ella, you can levitate on this one.” She poured herself a cup of cold tea and added a spoonful of sugar, leaving mine unsweetened before nudging it across the table.
A witch, a medium, and a ghost try to solve a murder. It sounded like the beginning of a joke, yet that was what Vivian expected us to do. I took the final chair with a reluctan
t frown, and Ella’s gaze connected with mine. I felt a pang of sympathy. Why had she been killed? Was it a random act, or something more sinister? Knowing the answer wouldn’t make the outcome any better. A woman’s life had been cut short. Her plans for the future, all her hopes and dreams, stolen by a faceless monster.
Vivian rapped her knuckles on the table, bringing our gathering to order. “Ella, I know you must be frightened and probably a little confused. My name is Vivian James, and I’m a medium. I work with ghosts who find themselves unable to cross over. We can help you transition to the other side. It won’t be easy, but we’ll do everything we can to simplify your journey.”
Ella rubbed her bare shoulders. She appeared so vulnerable hunched over the table. “I feel strange. It’s like waking from a dream and not knowing where you are.”
“Tell us everything you remember,” Vivian said.
Ella’s brow crinkled. “I hardly remember anything. There are holes where memories should go.” She paused, arranging her thoughts. “It’s odd. I know what I have to do, but I don’t know how to do it.”
Vivian nodded and moved her chair closer. “That’s perfectly normal. A ghost’s memory is intertwined with their death. The more horrific, the less they can recall. I’ve seen ghosts who can’t remember their names, and others who can recite what they ate for breakfast when they were ten.”
Ella closed her eyes. “I remember flashes, beautiful gowns, dancing…” Her lips trembled as she continued. “A clock tower, fear…so much fear.” Her eyes opened, and they were filled with confusion. “How did I die?”
“You drowned,” I said in a hushed tone.
“Oh, I don’t remember.”
“You probably feel disassociated, like your death happened to someone else. That’s normal too. It doesn’t mean we can’t help,” Vivian said.
“That’s right,” I added, trying to sound reassuring. “The royal family assigned a detective to your case. He seems very…” I paused. What was I supposed to say? I couldn’t tell her what I really thought. Besides, my feelings for the man had no bearing on his qualifications. “He seems very capable.”
“He does?” Hope colored Ella’s voice, making it rise in pitch.
“Mostly.” I fumbled for something to add and questioned my sanity. What did I know about solving a murder? I wasn’t good at my job, let alone someone else’s, and yet Ella’s circumstances struck a chord with me. She needed my help now more than ever. I couldn’t turn my back on her, even if the urge to stick my head in the sand seemed like the safer bet. An odd fascination gripped me: What would happen if I saw this through? I had to admit, I was scared to find out. Everyone always told you to face your problems, but no one ever mentioned what to do if you failed at that too.
“You know, there is one thing I remember.” Ella smiled, the action brightening her features, making her appear almost human again.
Vivian latched onto this in excitement. “What is it?”
Ella pointed at me, and dread blossomed in my chest. “Were you able to get all the pumpkin pulp off your lawn?” she asked.
Droplets sputtered onto the tabletop as Vivian choked on her tea. “Pumpkin pulp?”
Ella’s grin widened. “Tessa tried to turn a pumpkin into a carriage, and it exploded. There were seeds and goo everywhere.”
It figured that would be her one remaining memory. The only witness to my garden mortification, and even the erasure of death couldn’t keep it hidden.
I pursed my lips in irritation. “Yes, well, most of it’s still there. I’ve been busy.”
“I see.” Vivian fiddled with the sleeves of her robe, but I knew she was trying to restrain a giggle.
“Let’s stay focused on the murder, shall we?”
“Whose? Ella’s, or the pumpkin’s?” Vivian teased.
My eyes narrowed into slits. “Ella’s.”
Vivian winked and pushed out of her seat. “In that case, there might be a way you can help solve Ella’s murder and get the money you need to pay Argus.”
“Don’t forget my fines.”
“I thought you had enough for those.” Vivian crossed her arms over her chest.
“I did, but I had a run-in with Argus after I left your shop. Also, fun fact, your wig was useless. It’s now ruined and smells like a wet animal.”
Vivian tsk’d and glanced at Ella. “That was my favorite wig.” She dug into a drawer on the other side of the room and pulled out a scroll. “A royal messenger delivered this today. I’m supposed to hang it in the window.” Unfurling it on the table, she placed a candle at each end. Ink-stained calligraphy covered the parchment. I read to the bottom and realized Vivian’s intentions.
“You want me to collect the reward money?”
“Exactly. The royal family is offering a fortune to anyone who helps capture Ella’s killer. That person could be you. There’s just one part you won’t like.”
I drummed my fingers on the table. It wasn’t a bad idea. The money would solve my problems, and Ella would find the peace she needed to cross over.
“What’s the part I won’t like?”
“You’ll need help from the royal detective.”
I slammed my teacup against the table. “Absolutely not!” Dark liquid spilled over the rim, pooling onto the glass. “I have no intention of asking that man for anything. He’s smug, thinks he knows everything, and gets a distinct pleasure from ordering me around.”
Ella bit the side of her lip. “I thought you said he was capable.”
“Capable, my foot. He’s—”
“Your only option,” Vivian cut in. She checked items off on her fingers. “Let’s see, you don’t have access to the castle, so you can’t visit the crime scene. He’s already suspicious of you, so the moment he gets wind you’re questioning suspects, he’ll be even more suspicious.” She wriggled her third finger. “And you have literally no experience solving crime. None.”
“Oh, is that all?” I drawled, sliding my fingertip through the puddle of tea. The fragrant liquid bubbled at my touch and evaporated. Ella’s eyes widened at the simple spell. “I have a few cards up my sleeve. Detective Chambers doesn’t have magic at his disposal.”
Vivian smirked and pointed at my neckline. “Neither do you. Not good magic anyway.”
I glanced at the tea stain soaking the front of my dress. Damn. I’d crossed an evaporation spell with a relocation spell. The tips of my ears heated as I brushed uselessly at the wet fabric. So much for proving a point. Professional help might be warranted after all.
“All right. How do I convince Detective Chambers to let me investigate the case? He won’t welcome me with open arms and spill his secrets.”
Neither woman answered. The clock on the mantel ticked off the uncomfortable seconds. Vivian squirmed in her seat and rubbed the back of her neck. She had nothing.
“Well? This was your brilliant idea, Viv.” I slumped in my chair.
Ella broke the silence. “Use me.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I may not remember much, but he doesn’t have to know that. There’s got to be some detail they didn’t release to the public. When he realizes you can see my ghost, he’ll have to let you help.” She drifted into a pool of candlelight, and her gown sparkled, giving off an ethereal glow. The hemline ended at her ankles, where a crystal shoe poked out from underneath. A single shoe.
My gaze snagged on the translucent slipper. I recalled the details Sylvia had mentioned. She’d discussed the fountain, and the rose left between Ella’s fingers, but nothing about a missing slipper.
“I have an idea.” I pointed to Ella’s feet. “You’re only wearing one shoe. The other must have come off during your struggle with the killer.”
“Do you think that’s important?” Ella lifted the hem of her gown and stuck out her bare foot.
“It might be if they didn’t find it at the scene. Either way, it’s information I can use when I visit the detective.”
Vivian
looked skeptical.
“What? You said I needed Derrick’s help, so why the face?”
“It’s just, telling people—especially people in authority—you see ghosts doesn’t always go the way you’d expect. He might react poorly and…” Her voice faded, and she bowed her head. I knew that look. I’d seen it before when we were younger and Vivian had learned not everyone appreciated her ghostly calling. It was a lesson that still gave her nightmares.
“He might think I’m crazy?”
Vivian fidgeted with the handle of her teacup, unable to meet my eyes. “He could have you committed. There are worse places than prison.”
“It won’t come to that.” My gut churned. Our entire plan rested on the whims of a man who already found me lacking. There was a high chance I’d be leaving his office in some form of restraint. I didn’t like the odds. Not one bit.
Chapter 7
Sunshine glinted off the arched windows of the Royal Agency. The rays of light did little to improve the grim stone facade and iron gate separating the building from the crowded street.
I stood in front of the bars and pulled my cloak tighter around my body. A chilly wind carried brittle leaves through the air and numbed my exposed fingers while I gathered the courage to go inside.
Ella had vanished before dawn, and I’d remained at Vivian’s trying to get a few hours of sleep. Not that it did any good. I’d tossed and turned, plagued with nightmares that dissipated like smoke when I opened my eyes. The plans we’d made in the dark felt flawed in the daylight.
“Good morning, Miss Daniels. Are you here to see Detective Chambers?”
I located the voice, spotting Abrams walking toward the entrance. He rubbed bloodshot eyes, a sign his night shifts were taking a toll. His uniform was wrinkled yet clean, and he tugged the cap from his head, twisting the brim in his hands as he gave a weak smile.
Spellbound After Midnight (Ever Dark, Ever Deadly Book 1) Page 5
