Tangled Web

by Gail Z. Martin

  “If Carmen’s involved with the problems downtown, she might have gone into hiding right around the time the ‘grouch flu’ started,” Mrs. Teller said. “That would have been the smart thing to do because none of us had any reason to go looking for her at that point.”

  “I’ll go in through the back,” Chuck volunteered. He held up a hand to silence our objections. “I’ll be careful, and I’ll sweep for traps. But we can’t break in through the front door in broad daylight.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Mrs. Teller replied, and her narrowed gaze challenged either of us to object. “I’m most familiar with Carmen’s magic and the feel of Weaver energy. Chuck can check for physical traps; I’ll look for magical ones.”

  “And what about me?” I argued.

  Chuck grinned. “You get to be the lookout. And the getaway driver.”

  I dallied in the car for several minutes after the others headed around back, sizing up the neighborhood. At this time of day, most people would be at work, and from the lack of toys in the nearby yards, I didn’t think there were a lot of parents home with young children. Nosy retirees were another threat, but nowadays the odds of finding people with nothing better to do than rock on their porch and spy on the neighbors were slim when they could be out kayaking or doing Yoga.

  I locked the car and walked up the sidewalk like I had a right to be there, then knocked on the door and waited, doing my best to look like a casual visitor. I heard the click of a lock and then the door opened. Chuck stood back from the entrance, in the shadows where someone on the street was unlikely to spot him.

  “She’s gone,” Mrs. Teller said. “The place is stripped clean.”

  I looked around at bare walls and an empty living room. Maybe Carmen anticipated someone wanting to gain power over her through a left-behind possession, or perhaps she didn’t intend to come back, but she’d moved out completely.

  “I’m betting that she packed up in a hurry,” I said. “She might have gotten sloppy. Let’s see if we can find anything I can use to get a read on her.”

  We made sure both doors were locked, then split up and went to work. The one-story house wasn’t huge, and the lack of either basement or attic meant we only had a few rooms to search. My check in the kitchen revealed rotting food in the refrigerator and some abandoned boxes of cereal in the cupboards. While those might technically have been “owned” by Carmen, I’d learned that the kind of energy reading I’d pick up from them would be minimal or non-existent. People didn’t tend to imbue their breakfast food with the resonance of deep emotions.

  I checked the drawers and cupboards, but Carmen had taken everything except a few cans of soup. Even the plates and silverware were gone, and while I doubted they would have been much better than the cereal boxes for providing an insight, I wondered whether she had given thought to the possibility of other witches trying to track her.

  Then again, while she had moved out suddenly, the lack of traps made me wonder. If Carmen had expected that opponents with magic might come looking for her, surely she was capable of leaving behind nasty surprises to slow them down, since her cursed fabrics had set all of Charleston on edge. Maybe that meant that she either didn’t know we were on to her, or that she wasn’t worried. I doubted we still had the element of surprise working for us, but it worried me if Carmen felt so sure of herself that she didn’t fear anyone trying to stop her, and I wondered what she knew that we didn’t.

  “We found these,” Mrs. Teller said when we reconvened in the living room. She held out her hand to reveal a button, a comb, and a single earring.

  I smiled. “Those will do nicely.” All of them were items that had a lot of body contact, which increased the resonance my gift could read of associated memories and energy. Chuck wrapped them in a bandana he pulled from his pocket and tucked them away for safekeeping.

  “Let’s get back to the house,” I said, “and I’ll see what the pieces you found have to tell me.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “She’s a Nicholson.” Teag announced his big news when we got back to the house. To my relief, we faced no hordes of zombies or demonic hounds, and if any attacks had been attempted, the wardings held fast. Baxter yipped and carried on when we returned, proving that no one was going to mount a sneak attack.

  “What did you find?” I asked as we headed in to the living room. I kept on going to the kitchen since it was nearly lunch, and heated up the oven for a couple of frozen pizzas, since ordering take-out didn’t seem like a smart idea right now. Then I came back and settled into an armchair, next to the end table where Chuck placed the bandana-wrapped pieces we found at Carmen’s house.

  Anthony had stepped into the hall to take a phone call, and I could hear his voice, but the words were too muffled to make out what he was saying. From the way she carried herself, I could tell that Secona still possessed Alicia. A silver chalice etched with runes sat in front of her, filled with a red liquid I hoped was wine.

  “Carmen Nicholson ran away and married Diego Vincente,” Teag replied. “You can guess that didn’t go down well with Papa Nicholson, since Vincente had a criminal record.”

  “For what?” Chuck asked.

  “Stupid teenage stuff,” Teag replied. “Took a car for a joyride, stole money out of lockers at school, got nabbed for vandalism. Looks like Vincente straightened himself out, but he wasn’t the kind of boy Carmen’s dad envisioned as a son-in-law, and so she got an ultimatum to pick between her lover and her family, and Carmen picked Vincente.”

  “And?” Mrs. Teller prompted.

  “Carmen’s family cut her off, and there was bad blood for a long time,” Teag continued. “Then Vincente got sick, and they needed money. Her father wouldn’t help them, and Vincente died. That was six months ago.”

  I looked at Teag with a measure of awe and consternation. “How the hell did you find all that out?”

  He smirked. “Anthony’s mother. Apparently, she went to boarding school with Catherine Nicholson, Carmen’s mother, and while they aren’t close, they run in the same circles, so she knew all the gossip.”

  I shook my head. The blue blood network in Charleston could be confining and cliquish, but never let it be said that the inner circle of high society didn’t keep tabs on its own. “Wow,” I replied. “Did she wonder why he wanted to know?”

  Teag grinned. “Actually, she figured Carmen had gotten herself in some kind of trouble, and she wanted to warn Anthony away from taking her case.”

  “So Carmen has a grudge against daddy-dearest, and it simmers for years, then really comes to a head when hard feelings cost her the man she loves,” I mused. I glanced at Mrs. Teller. “You said she had a chip on her shoulder.”

  Mrs. Teller nodded. “I never pried into her personal business, but I could tell she was an angry young woman with a lot of unresolved issues. That kind of thing plays havoc with magic if you don’t settle your old wounds before you try to control real power. Like I said, I was afraid she might use what she learned from me to harm someone, so I refused to teach her. She wasn’t happy about it, but she knew to leave well enough alone and not try any of that crap on me.”

  I smothered a chuckle. Mrs. Teller didn’t care for vulgarity, so her saying “crap” was the equivalent of a string of profanity from anyone else.

  “So she’s upset by her husband’s death, pissed at her father, and still disowned by the family,” I recapped, crossing my legs beneath me in the armchair. “She’s got native magic, but she’s half-trained, a real loose cannon. So how does she jump from there to summoning Holmgang and calling down the Wild Hunt?”

  “The Nicholson family was a founding member of the Ashley River Rod and Gun Club,” Teag replied. “As were the families of the men who fell out of the sky, and the zombies who crawled out of their graves at Magnolia Cemetery.”

  “And let me guess—both the families and the club had ties to Harrison Stables out in Aiken,” I hazarded.

  “Yep,” Teag said. “It’s all
one big inbred tangle.”

  Since Anthony’s family was every bit as blue-blooded as the Nicholson’s clan, I knew Teag’s comment focused more on the cliquishness of Charleston’s upper echelon, but there was an element of truth to the harsh words. The city’s old families tended to intermarry, and the bloodlines crisscrossed so often over the past few centuries with the same surnames popping up again and again that family trees tended to look more like snarled vines.

  “Anthony gave you the tip about the Rod and Gun Club?” I asked.

  “He confirmed it, but I asked Mrs. Morrissey about organizations that the key families had in common, and she rattled off a list. All the usual charity and non-profit boards, but those were too recent,” Teag replied. “Lots of other groups, but the only one that went back far enough was the hunting club.”

  “Nice work,” I told him. “But I still don’t see how a bunch of fox hunters managed to call down the Wild Hunt.”

  “I’ve got a theory about that,” Teag replied with a mysterious smile, “but I need Donnelly to confirm it for me, and he said he had an errand to run for Sorren, so he’ll be back in a bit. Rowan went with them, too.”

  I chuckled, thinking of Sorren sending Archibald Donnelly on an “errand.” The engraved chalice next to Secona drew my attention. “Is that the chalice Sorren mentioned?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Yes. Its maker did well. I’ve been scrying on and off since you left. No insight into Carmen, but if you’ve brought one of her possessions, perhaps we can change that,” Secona said with a nod toward the pieces wrapped in Chuck’s bandana.

  I’d been genuinely interested in what the others had done while we were gone, but to tell the truth, I’d also been stalling. Reading objects takes a toll on me, especially when the emotions associated with them are dark and upsetting. I settled into my chair, readying myself to touch the items from Carmen’s house when Anthony ended his call and returned to sit on the couch next to Teag.

  “I pulled in a favor from an old friend who knows people in Corrections,” Anthony said. “Hanna McCloud is still in jail and has been for months. She’s not likely to be the person you’re looking for.”

  “And I confirmed that Kerrie Carson is in the hospital in critical condition,” Teag added, omitting how he did the confirming. “Her accident happened at the very beginning of the ‘weirdness.’ So she may be a victim, rather than a perp.”

  “Maybe Carmen decided to get rid of the competition, and go after any other Weaver witches?” I wondered aloud. “Which would explain the attack on you,” I added with a glance toward Teag.

  He shrugged. “Could be. If she went after Kerrie first, maybe she already knew Hanna was out of the running. But that would leave me and Mrs. Teller—and Niella—as targets.”

  I excused myself to take out the pizza before it burned, keeping one ear on the conversation as I set out the pans.

  “Carmen was always arrogant,” Mrs. Teller said. “Thought a bit too highly of herself. If she got rid of Kerrie, I’d bet it was more of a personal grudge than the thought that anyone might out-magic her.” Her eyes narrowed as she thought. “I think the attack on you had more to do with this Holmgang than with Carmen being afraid of rivals.”

  “I’m not sure whether that makes me feel better or worse,” Teag replied.

  I beckoned everyone into the kitchen to get some pizza, and we grew quiet as we ate. Once we finished, the conversation hit a lull, forcing me to confront the pieces we retrieved from Carmen’s house. “All right,” I said. “Let me take a look at the stuff we brought back. But I’d like to do it in the dining room, where I can sit at the table.” I glanced at Teag. “Would you bring the bandana in, please?”

  He nodded. “Sure. Do you want me to trance with you?”

  I paused. “If we used a long spelled cord, could the others see what you see?”

  “We can make sure they do,” Mrs. Teller answered. “I’ll boost the signal if I need to.”

  Usually Teag was the only one who glimpsed the impressions I received when I used my gift, and then only when we both held onto a piece of fabric with his magic woven into it. I’d never put on a show for a larger audience, and while that made me a little nervous, these were all trusted friends, and it would make the aftermath much easier if I didn’t have to recap my vision.

  I sat in the middle of one side on the big table I’d inherited from my grandmother. The scarred wooden dining table wasn’t particularly valuable, but I remembered many family holiday meals, and that gave it a resonance of calmness and support that grounded me. Teag sat to my left, and Mrs. Teller sat on my right. The others found their seats, and Teag uncoiled a long braided cord, handing one end to me and then passing the rest of the rope down the line until Mrs. Teller grasped the opposite end.

  “If this works right, you’ll see what I see. Hang on. I never know what is going to happen,” I warned. Teag used a pencil to nudge the button my way, steering it with the eraser to keep from touching it with his skin. I took a deep breath, reached for the button, and closed my eyes.

  Buttons are some of my favorite things to read because they are worn close to the skin and soak up a lot of impressions. The button we found in Carmen’s house had a mother of pearl sheen to it, high-end like it came off a dressy blouse. The smooth, cold disk warmed to my skin, and I felt my gift connect.

  I saw the house through Carmen’s eyes as it had been. The interior looked chic and color-coordinated, like something out of a magazine, and I wondered whether she had a good eye or she’d gone into debt to hire a decorator. Or maybe Carmen never lost the memory of Nicholson money, even as she followed her bad boy lover into family exile.

  Anger permeated the sensations I read from the button, a low, persistent boil below the surface. Carmen had a mad on for the world, but underneath it all her father held a special place in her fury. I caught a glimpse of a photograph of Carmen with a handsome dark-haired man and figured that was Vincente. Grief lurked below the anger, dark as sin and deep enough to drown in. But one emotion burned brightly. Vengeance. Carmen had a plan, and the idea that those who had wronged her would get what was coming to them sustained her, helping her rise above the grief and filling her with purpose.

  The image shifted, and I saw the house again, but everything was boxed, and the rooms were almost empty. I felt a tug of sadness as Carmen looked around the vacant rooms and remembered better times. Then a flare of anger drove away the regret, and I felt her resolve harden. She went back to the bedroom to retrieve a few containers to hand carry. The box on top held a small hand loom and several pieces of fabric that I recognized from the storm drain. When she looked at the cloth swatches, I could feel cold satisfaction and the anticipation that she would make people pay for their sins. She stretched down to pick up the boxes, and abruptly, the vision ended.

  I came back to myself with a rush of breath and opened my eyes to find the others staring at me with various levels of astonishment.

  “Nicely done,” Mrs. Teller said, breaking the silence.

  “An impressive gift,” Secona murmured.

  Anthony looked confounded. “I’ve seen you read objects before, and helped you through the aftermath, but somehow I never understood how real the visions are.”

  “That was pretty tame,” I said, knowing that Anthony had been around to help gather my wits after a malicious object knocked me on my ass.

  “So if I’m interpreting what you saw correctly, that nails Carmen as the person behind the woven fabric that caused havoc downtown,” Teag said. Mrs. Teller and I nodded.

  “She was running away,” I mused. “So either she thought someone would come after her to stop her—maybe us—or she needed to go somewhere more private to finish the rest of her plan.”

  “I’ll see what I can find in the registrar of deed’s records when we’re done,” Teag volunteered.

  “Ready for the comb?” I asked. The others nodded, and Teag pushed it toward me. Once again, I picked up the hard plastic
and willed my gift to focus on whatever memories it retained.

  There’s a reason magic and ritual prefer basic materials like wood, metal, bone, and stone. The farther removed from nature an object is, the less well it conducts magic. Plastic can be tricky, and while I can get a reading from it, the images often aren’t quite as clear.

  Then again, from what I could see, maybe this time it worked out well that the reception was blurry.

  Once more, I saw through Carmen’s eyes, but this time, she stood in a large clearing. The image looked like a bad cable TV signal, fuzzy and breaking up a bit, but I could force my magic through the comb enough to hold the connection.

  Carmen was in the middle of a circle made from braided rope. At her feet lay a shallow bowl filled with a dark liquid I bet was blood. Beyond the rope, I could see the discarded bodies of chickens and rabbits. Thick pillar candles burned at the four quarters of the warded circle. Carmen began to chant, and while I couldn’t make out the words, the thrum of power, even at a distance, raised the hackles on the back of my neck.

  The breeze stirred, fluttering her hair and her loose-fitting shirt. The candle flames flickered, and the tall grass bent in waves. I could feel Carmen’s intense focus and an almost ecstatic urgency. The wind grew stronger, guttering the candles and whipping her hair wildly around her face. Fear and excitement warred inside as she called down old power and felt a response. And then, in the distance, I heard the howl of dogs and the pounding of hooves—

  “Cassidy?” Anthony’s worried voice cut through the mental fog as I struggled to come out of the vision.

  “I’m okay,” I assured him, but Teag pushed a glass of sweet tea at me anyhow, and I drank it greedily, needing the sugar. I pick up flashes of normal life from objects fairly often, and those little insights don’t usually bother me. But when I focus my gift on an object full of dark resonance, the effort drains my psychic “batteries” pretty quickly. I could feel the beginnings of a headache in my temples, and I felt like I’d run a mile in the heat.