Grave Witch

by Kalayna Price

Page 21

  Author: Kalayna Price

  That would make things harder.

  “Who’s that?” I asked, nodding at a man in his early fifties with light brown hair who had just broken off from the group around my father. He stormed across the ballroom and out the side door. Conversation paused as the door slammed, then buzzed around us once more.

  Falin considered the door, then said, “Pratt Bartholomew, the new lieutenant governor. He’s a good ole boy and a real hothead. Is he the one?”

  “Back off. I don’t know yet. I’m just looking for guys fitting the description. ”

  “Description?”

  Right—I hadn’t told Falin about Roy yet. “I’ll explain later. ”

  Several stunned faces were still looking at the door.

  The businessman was slack jawed, but he’d moved enough that I could once again see my father. One of the governor’s aides, a squirrelly faced man with thick glasses, leaned in, speaking quickly. Whatever was said, my father nodded, and the aide hurried away. No doubt after Bartholomew.

  A man standing just beyond the group caught my eye, mostly because he was watching me. He was in his late forties with a full head of dark brown hair. When he noticed me looking, he lifted his brandy glass in a silent toast.

  I gave him a tight-lipped smile and leaned closer to Falin. “Who is that?”

  “Jefferson Wilks, III. A senator for the opposition party. ”

  An Equal Rights Party member here? Of course, I was here, and I was currently the most famous—or infamous—witch in Nekros City.

  Falin took my hand. “Should we go introduce ourselves?”

  I shook my head and gestured to the table of hors d’oeuvres. I had a serious need to get my legs firmly under me again, and I wasn’t up for fake smiles and small talk until I did.

  Falin escorted me to the table, but as soon as we reached it, someone called his name.

  “Just leave me here,” I told him, waving him away.

  His eyes studied me a moment; then he nodded. I almost sighed with relief. I was as alone as I could be in a room full of strangers. And there was food.

  I grabbed several chocolate-covered strawberries from an arrangement in the center of the table, then moved on to the table crackers. Too bad I didn’t bring my purse.

  As I loaded a cracker with caviar, a familiar chiming laughter caught my attention. I followed it to a small group of debutantes, in the center of which was Casey.

  Gone were the black clothes and puffy eyes. Tonight she wore a brilliant red gown, bound to draw every male eye in attendance with its swooping neckline and gold cording. She laughed at something one of her companions had said, and it sounded real, full of life, and not the least forced.

  I pretended to be fascinated with the ice sculpture so I could get closer. As I stared at the life-sized couple made of ice, I let my consciousness sink a little lower so I could reach out with my other senses. The first bit of magic I touched was a charm to prevent the sculpture from melting. I pushed forward. Each girl in the group carried at least one charm, but Casey wore the most. All were weak, rather feeble spells. Where did she buy such shoddily crafted charms? I scanned them again and hesitated.

  The large diamond that dipped into her cleavage held an attraction spell designed to make her noticed and adored. It was gray magic—illegal to buy or sell.

  Where the hell had she gotten it?

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw several men descend on the group where Falin was “mingling. ” One of the men in the invading group was my father. He zeroed in on Falin. Ah crap.

  I glanced around. Security was easy to spot—thugs in tuxes still looked dangerous—and I spotted several conveniently mingling close by.

  I moved away from the buffet table. It was too visible a spot. People looked up as I passed, and I smiled, forcing myself to slow down. If I ran out of the room, I’d draw even more attention.

  I worked my way to the back of the room, where a curtain concealed entry into a back hallway the caterers used to use. I assumed they still did. Without a backward glance, I swept into the hall, surprising a cocktail waitress.

  She yelped when she saw me, and tried to conceal a half-empty glass of wine behind her back. The tray, with the rest of the full wineglasses she had been hired to give out, was balancing on the chair beside her.

  I gave her my best airheaded smile. “I’m lost. Where’s the restroom?”

  She slipped the half-empty glass of wine on her tray as she gave me directions—bad directions at that—to the bathroom. I dutifully ignored the fact that she’d been sampling her employer’s wares and hoped she would similarly forget to mention me.

  Once she picked up her tray and disappeared around the curtain, I made my way down the hall. A couple of turns took me into the living areas of the house.

  Sneaking out to avoid being kicked out. Brilliant,Alex.

  I shrugged the thought off. After all, if Coleman could ward himself from my senses, there wasn’t much point left in mingling. I might as well snoop.

  I took the stairs to the second floor. My father’s office was my main target, but I stopped at Casey’s suite first. I didn’t like the fact that she had a gray charm. The doorknob turned silently under my hand. I scurried in, shutting the door behind me.

  I hurried across the sitting room. Nothing interesting was hidden in the austere decorations. As I reached the door to her bedroom I hesitated. A faint hint of magic tickled my senses. Residual magic? What is residual magic doing in the heart of Casey’s suite?

  I pushed open the door and flicked on the light.

  Her bedroom was bigger than my entire apartment. A canopy bed draped in gauzy cream curtains stood in the center of the room, the red satin pillowcases on the bed a shocking contrast to all the cream. A small plasma TV hung on the wall across from the foot of the bed, and to one side of the bed was a small corner table with a lamp.

  Aside from an oak chest at the foot of the bed, a dresser, and a small bookshelf, the only other furnishings in the room were candles on tall standing candelabra.

  I frowned at the candles. The four candelabra were spaced evenly around the room, one for each cardinal direction. What is Casey up to? I crept closer. The tingle of residual magic turned thick, a low thrum I felt through my being. I’d stepped over the edge of the latent circle before I even realized it was there.

  Okay, someone had definitely been doing magic here.

  I walked to her dresser. The silver-framed photos on the dresser were the only personal touches in the austere room. One photograph had captured her with a group of friends wearing poufy dresses, one was of her standing between our father and Coleman, and one showed her standing in a group of senators. The last frame held a photo with a much younger Casey in it standing beside our older brother, Brad. I picked up the large silver frame, and the tingle of magic crawled over my fingers.

  A charm?

  A concealment charm. I frowned. What is she hiding?

  For a sensitive, concealment charms were basically a flashing light crying, “Something interesting here!” And once you knew they were there, they were terribly easy to circumvent.

  Closing my eyes, I traced my fingers over the back of the frame. A pocket had been sewn into the back. I reached inside and pulled out a thin book about the size of my hand. The leather cover was unmarked and soft with age. It buzzed slightly, as though it had absorbed magic cast around it, but this magic felt sticky. I flipped the book open.

  Handwritten lines filled the pages, the tight script small and too angular to be my sister’s. I flipped the page and saw a diagram for an ornate circle with cardinal and guardian points marked. A spellbook? I flipped further on. The spell I landed on was designed to inspire fear in an enemy. Not just any spellbook, but gray spells.

  The door behind me banged open. “What are you doing in here?”

  I flipped around, hiding the book
behind my back.

  Casey stood in the doorway, her cheeks flaring angry red and competing with her scarlet dress. She balled her small fists against her waist, her elbows out to her sides as if she were trying to take up as much space as possible.

  “I’ll ask again. What are you doing here?”

  “Here as in the party or—”

  “Here as in my room, Alexis. ” She swept into the room but stopped at the edge of the bed.

  I still had the book in my hand. What the hell am I going to do with it? I cleared my throat, not meeting her eyes. “How did you find me?”

  “I knew you’d crashed the party because I saw you. I knew you were in my room because you crossed my circle. ”

  I glanced at the invisible circle with its candelabra cardinal points. “Then you’re a—”

  “Witch?” She lifted a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, crossing her lithe arms over her chest. “Yes. And if you tell Daddy, I swear I’ll make your life miserable while I deny it. ”

  “But …” But I’d been disowned for being a witch. I’d been labeled a bastard. And now Casey, his favorite, the baby, was a witch in hiding. “How can he possibly not have noticed?”

  She plopped herself down on her bed, the crimson dress even more garish against the cream comforter than the scarlet pillowcases. “Please. Daddy is the least sensitive norm in the world. Mom must have been practicing under his nose for years. ”

  “What about Brad?” I asked, and she looked away.

  Had he been the one to give her the spellbook? It had been hidden behind his picture. Casey still wasn’t looking at me. I knelt and shoved the thin book into my boot. It was not a comfortable fit. I tried to shove it down farther, but the bed shifted as Casey moved. I stood, straightening my skirt and trying to keep my face blank.

  “I haven’t heard from Brad. No one has. Don’t you think Daddy would have called you if we’d heard from him? So, wherever he is, he doesn’t know, and I don’t know whether he is a witch. After you, well, you know …”

  Yeah, I knew. After my wyrd ability had made itself known, and I had proven unable to hide it, our father had sent me off to a wyrd boarding school as soon as he’d been able to enroll me. I’d been eight the first time I packed my bags and boarded a plane alone to head to the academy; Casey had been only four. It was an impressionable age.