Spells & Death

by Rachel Medhurst

  “Feeling fragile?” I muttered.

  His response was drowned out as I whispered an earth spell. The ground below us shook as roots dislodged and shot up just before Peter. They wrapped around his legs, forcing his momentum to halt. He fell forward, his face a couple of inches from the live electric line.

  “Nice!” Dave exclaimed in my ear. “Shit, oncoming train. You’ve got ninety seconds.”

  The muscles in my legs screamed as I pushed them a few more yards. Peter was squirming against his bonds, his face bright red from exertion.

  “The roots,” Dave said in my ear as I dragged my dagger out from my holster. “They’ve dislodged some of the track. You need to stop that train.”

  Fuck! I hadn’t even thought about that. My spell had caused the line to shift upwards.

  Bending down to my captive, I cut the roots from the ground but left his legs bound.

  “You bitch!”

  His shout was ignored as I looked around for something to tie his hands. Bloody hell, where were my handcuffs?

  “Gem!” Jake was beside me, handing me his cuffs.

  “Get him out of here,” I told him once I’d secured his wrists behind his back. “I’ve got to stop that train!”

  The vehicle thundered around the corner, heading straight for us. It was a good job Jake was a wolf shifter. His speedy flash took them off into the hedge at the side of the track before I could blink.

  Planting my feet firmly on the track in front of the damaged area, I tried to stop the shaking of my hand as the horn blared. The soles of my feet vibrated as the squeak of brakes shrilled through my head.

  Ignoring the high pitched noise that blasted through my ears, I held up my hands as I dragged as much power from the ley line as possible. The barrier spell flew up in front of me, invisible to anyone but me. I could see the shimmer of the pure magic that flickered, creating a wall. The impact would hopefully not jerk the train too hard, although it wasn’t guaranteed.

  “Help engage the brakes,” Dave said sharply.

  Closing my eyes, I pictured the locking mechanisms on the train’s wheels. The screech grew louder as I cast a spell to lock them on completely.

  “Now move!” Dave was insistent. “Just in case.”

  The train was slowing, the front of it coming closer but at a much reduced speed. My heartbeat sped up and, for a split second, I was mesmerised by the sheer force of the thing that could flatten me in a moment. What would happen to me? My body was technically dead. Or, that’s what I thought, anyway.

  “Move!”

  My legs automatically launched me to the side of the track. The skin on my arm grazed against the small stones before I rolled onto the grass bank.

  “Shit!” Dave hissed in my ear as the train screeched to a halt two seconds after I’d crash landed.

  Opening my eyes, I stared. The front end of the carriage was resting against my barrier wall. If I hadn’t have moved, I would’ve been safe, but it hadn’t been worth the risk. Even I valued my life more than testing my magic.

  A hand wrapped around my forearm and lugged me to my feet. Jake’s bright eyes were narrowed on me, checking me over for injuries. His nostrils flared when his eyes landed on my arm. It was scratched up from the stones, small cuts swelling with a touch of blood.

  “Let’s go,” he muttered, ignoring Peter, who was still struggling to get away.

  As if the witch was going to be able to break free from a wolf. He was a fool to think he could challenge an agent who could rip his throat out with one bite. Although, he had managed to evade me. And harm me in the process. Bastard.

  Taking one last look at the train as the driver scurried to get out of the cab, I waved at Jake to go. His supersonic speed made him invisible to the eye as he travelled back down the rail track. Closing my eyes, I transported myself to the toilets at the station.

  “If you’re going to pee, please make sure you turn me off.” Dave reminded me that he was there.

  “If I’m going to pee, it will do a very good job of turning you off,” I quipped back as I looked in the mirror.

  His chuckle made me smile at my reflection as I turned on the tap. My ponytail was in disarray, my cheek covered in white dust from the stones. Taking my hair out, I brushed it flat with my hands and left it loose.

  “Nothing would ever put me off you. I told you, I’m going to marry you one day.” Dave almost choked when I leant forward and stuck my tongue out to inspect it. “Okay, steady on. One step at a time.”

  Spotting the small cut and resulting blood, I rubbed my finger over it, grinning to myself when it healed instantly.

  “No need to show off,” he muttered. “Some of us can’t even conjure a coffee without help.”

  My healing abilities had come naturally with the ley line, but I wasn’t usually so quick to use them. Mother had insisted that I only use my magic sparingly. The ley line wasn’t to be taken advantage of or used for personal gain. Healing was classed as personal gain, but hell, sores on the tongue were a pain in the arse. Like I was going to not steal a tiny winy bit of magic to save myself the discomfort.

  “So, we have Peter Mason,” I said as I bent down and thrust my arm under the tap.

  The cold water stung as it washed away the grit and stones. Using my other arm, I rubbed it hard to get rid of the blood.

  “We have Peter Mason. It’s about time we found out why he’s not only been seen speaking to Helen Cambridge, but why he was at the scene of the most recent crime.”

  Bending down to the sink to suck in some water and spit it out, I laughed when Dave tutted disapprovingly. “Very ladylike.”

  “Screw you,” I replied, sticking my tongue out at him in the mirror. “A girl needs a fresh mouth when she’s chomped on her tongue.”

  I could just imagine the shake of his head. He would be sitting back in his chair, watching my reflection on one of his screens. He often commented on my less than feminine ways, but the man could hate all he wanted. Didn’t he realise that most women were human? We had to fart, or pee, or pick our nose sometimes. It was human biology.

  “Anyway,” I said when he didn’t reply. “I’m ready for some interrogation time with my mate, Peter.”

  My grin lifted the corners of my lips into my cheeks. Oh yes, I was more than ready. Maybe he would know the man in the demon suit. I had to keep my questioning subtle though, I didn’t want any of the others to clock onto my weird behaviour, especially since it had been Peter who had shot me. If he’d seen anything, he might let out my secret, which would mean the end of agent Gemma Abbott.

  “I’m so coming in with you.” Dave’s tone was a little tight. Shit, he was already onto me. “I don’t trust you with the man who got away.”

  Scoffing, I ran my hand over my long hair and straightened my anti-social T-shirt before blowing him a kiss in the mirror.

  “No man ever gets away from me.”

  Chapter 7

  My insides quivered, my palms lined with sweat. If only I could get one second alone with him, but Dave wasn’t having any of it. He didn’t trust me alone with Peter. I didn’t blame him, either.

  “Why did you run when I followed you a few nights ago?”

  The tightness in my chest squeezed even further as I resisted the temptation to touch the scar tissue over my heart. When I’d gone home the night before, I’d stared at myself in the mirror again, trying to work out how my body was still working. If it wasn’t for the puckered scar, I would have believed that I’d imagined the whole thing.

  Peter was middle-aged, his light hair going thin on top. His nose was bulbous, the tip bright red. He was a witch who drank by the looks of his pockmarked skin.

  Sniffing, Peter rubbed a finger under his nose. “I knew you were MI5. I didn’t want to mess with you.”

  “So, you shot at me?”

  He glanced at Dave who sat quietly beside me, his bulging arms crossed over his chest. The dark blue suit made him look like a solicitor more than an agent. In a
way, that was a good thing, because it made Peter feel more inclined to talk.

  “I... I freaked out, okay? I know who you are.” His sniff was followed by a cough. Somebody needed to get him a tissue. Shame we didn’t have any on standby. He’d just have to sniffle like a bitch instead.

  “That’s still no excuse to run. What are you hiding?” I leant forward, my arms resting on the metal table between us.

  This part of the Paranormal M15 building housed holding cells and interview rooms. The whole section had been spelled to disable all prisoners’ magic. They had a band wrapped around their wrist, which fused to their skin if they tried to get it off. It was the only thing that stopped them from being able to escape or hurt any of us. Not that they’d be powerful enough to hurt me, but whatever.

  Taking a deep breath, Peter glanced between the pair of us, his eyes closing quickly when his gaze made contact with mine.

  “Might as well cut to the chase, my friend,” Dave said, letting me play the bad guy. “My partner doesn’t like to waste time.”

  Our shared look sent a sizzle down my spine. Swallowing, I blinked as I looked back at our suspect. Why was I getting funny feelings with Dave? He was my desk friend. I didn’t fancy him. At all.

  “Okay.” Throwing his cuffed hands in the air, Peter screwed up his face. “I’m having an affair with Helen Cambridge.”

  My scoff of disbelief made him scowl, his lips pulling back to bare his teeth. “I’ll have you know that I’m a very capable lover.”

  Coughing, I cleared my face. Enough mucking around. It was time to get serious. “So, if we called Joseph Cambridge and told him you were having an affair with his wife, he’d believe us?”

  Shaking his head vehemently, he almost choked. “You can’t do that, he’d kill me.”

  “What were you doing at the station?” Dave distracted him.

  The atmosphere suddenly grew warm. Rubbing a hand over my neck, I cringed when my fingers encountered the sudden light perspiration. My senses were on edge. I had to find out what was happening with me so that I could get my mind back to my work. Investigating a serial killer at the same time as not knowing if I was actually dead or not was beginning to mar my senses.

  Rubbing his head, Peter looked me in the eye. “I’m sorry I fired at you that time. I must admit, I thought I’d got you. I’m glad to see you’re alive.”

  My jaw almost hit the ground. Really? The sniffling bastard was sorry for shooting me? My arse! Well, not my arse, my chest, but still. I didn’t believe him in the slightest.

  “Don’t be insincere,” Dave said, leaning forward on the table. “You don’t give a shit that she’s alive. In fact, you probably would’ve got a medal from your friends at the PFF.”

  “Are you fucking joking me?” Peter spat. “They’d fry me with a spell if I’d managed to kill her.”

  Oh, Dave was good at pushing criminal’s buttons. Not only had Peter just told us that the terrorist group Paranormals for Freedom didn’t want me killed, he’d just shopped himself in.

  “Ah, so you are connected to them.” Dave glanced at me, a bored expression on his face. “He’s obviously not an important lead if he’s not allowed to kill you. I suppose they’re saving that one for the big dogs.”

  Peter’s mottled cheeks grew even redder as he gritted his teeth. “I... I’m not going to say anymore.”

  “Shame,” I said, getting up from my seat. “We thought you were important enough to lead us to the juicy stuff. Thought maybe we’d cut you a break.”

  “You don’t have anything to hold me. How can you cut me a break when you can’t even arrest me?” Sitting back in his chair, he looked quite comfortable with himself all of a sudden.

  Cocking my head to the side, I cringed when my hair brushed my grazed arm. The war wound would look impressive, and my T-shirt hadn’t sustained any damage, but it would sting like a bitch for a while.

  “You forget that I’ve arrested you on suspicion of murder. The body in the station didn’t get there by itself. And, you just happened to be on the train tracks, watching us. You were basically caught red-handed.”

  Yeah, it wouldn’t fly in court, if there was ever a trial, but the weasel wouldn’t know that. He wasn’t exactly the sharpest witch in the box.

  “I didn’t kill that person. I was there for...” Biting his lip, he dropped his gaze to the metal surface of the table. “...what deal are you offering?”

  It was amazing how quickly that men who thought they were brave turned their backs when they were threatened. Something as simple as an Essex witch connecting him to a crime scene had made him sell out his terrorist friends.

  “It depends what you have to offer us,” Dave said, his face deadpan as he stared at our prisoner. “You could be a serial killer.”

  “I’ve taken it upon myself to keep an eye on things. I sell information, okay.” Peter looked defeated. His gaze moved to his hands where he twiddled his thumbs together.

  My gut objected. A sharp ache in the pit of my stomach alerted me to his lies. Yes, I believed that he probably did sell information, but there was more to it. The sweat that trickled down the side of his neck was a tell-tale sign.

  “You sell information to the PFF?” Dave didn’t even need to blink to get a reaction from Peter.

  “No.” He glanced up. “Yes.”

  “And, do you know if they’re involved in the murders?” My butt was on the edge of my seat, waiting for him to give us what we needed.

  Shaking his head, he glanced between the pair of us. “No, they’re not. They asked me to check it out, see what was going on. So, as soon as a report came in that there was another murder, I went to see for myself. I hadn’t long been there when you caught me.”

  Glancing at Dave, I resisted the urge to sigh. Unfortunately for us, it felt like he was telling the truth about the crime scene. However, I wasn’t going to let him go instantly. I wanted more information about PFF. It was probably better if we let him sweat for a day or twelve.

  “That’s all the questions we have for you right now,” Dave said, getting up from his chair.

  “Are you letting me go?” Peter’s pathetic face brightened.

  Raising my eyebrows when he glanced at me, I had to stop myself from laughing when he deflated, his lips turning down into a frown. I almost felt sorry for him. Scrap that, no I didn’t. The bastard shot me.

  “Sorry, mate.” Dave indicated that we leave. “You’ll be held here for a while longer.”

  As we stepped into the corridor, my own mood dropped. For some bizarre reason, a part of me had hoped that we’d find out something substantial. The lack of grit, of excitement, left me feeling drained.

  “I’ve just got to pop somewhere,” I said, digging out my phone. “I won’t be long.”

  Before I could flash myself away, Dave grabbed my arm. Looking up at him, I swallowed hard when our gaze clashed. He was being all broody, the corners of his jaw working as he clenched them.

  “What is it?” My voice was quiet in the empty area.

  Licking his lips as he screwed up his eyes in concentration, Dave let go of me when he sighed. “There’s something not quite right about you. You’ve always been distant, but this is different.”

  Dropping my gaze, I stared at the top of his shirt where it was open, revealing a strong tanned collarbone. “I won’t be long.”

  Power surged through me as I dragged on the ley line and pictured myself outside the seer’s house. My body turned to fluid as it morphed from the MI5 building to Edinburgh in Scotland. When my boots landed on the concrete pathway outside an old townhouse, I smiled to myself. I had first learnt the transportation spell when I was ten. My mother had gone a little crazy at me because I’d vanished for hours. Yeah, you guessed it, it was one of the oldest libraries in the world. The National Library of Scotland, located near the George IV bridge, between the town and the university. This library boasted housing the letters of Mary Queen of Scots and Charles Darwin. Pure heaven.
>
  My mother had managed to trace me with her own magic, but her punishment had been hell. No reading for a week. I mean, who would ban a child from reading? It did the job though, I never left her in the dark about where I was going again.

  “Hello there,” a brisk feminine Scots accent broke me from my memory.

  Ah, Mary, the seer. Devon Jinx at the Hunted Witch Agency had recommended her to me when I asked if she knew anyone not in London city. I didn’t want someone close to home to know what was happening to me. Apparently, Mary had helped Devon in the past.

  The woman was elderly, waving at me from the doorstep. She was short with long grey frizzy hair, and a big smile on her face. She wore a tatty purple tie-dye dress that fell to just above her ankles. Devon had warned me she was eccentric, but she looked like a nice lady.

  “Hi,” I greeted as I went to meet her at the door.

  Ushering me inside, she checked the street before pointing me to the stairs. “My room is right at the top. Don’t worry, I haven’t got any men hidden in there.”

  Her cackle of laughter made me jump as I trotted up the stairs, waiting at the top for her to join me. Shuffling, she took her time to ascend, eventually reaching me on the landing.

  “Through that door and up again.” She puffed, putting her hand on her chest.

  Grabbing hold of the handle, I paused. Sometimes I had to remind myself that there were other people in the world. People who were vulnerable.

  Turning back to her, I held out my hand. “Do you need some help?”

  Her scowl made me step back. “What do you think I am? I might be a little older than you, but I’m as fit as they come.”

  Tutting, she shoved past me and went up the stairs, two at a time. Okay, so now she was showing off. I didn’t know whether to be worried that I’d offended her, or... who was I kidding, it was very unlikely that she would stay offended for long. She was a hard Scots woman. I was going to like her.

  “Here,” she said as I came into the room. “Sit over there while I get the tea.”

  The downstairs part of the house had been covered in cobwebs, the décor old-fashioned. The open-planned top floor had a kitchenette in the corner, a small nook with a bedroom and a wall that stuck out to hide the bathroom area. That wall drew my eye as I made my way over to the mismatched seating area.