Wizard Hall Chronicles Box Set

by Sheryl Steines

  “I am. Well, I’m trying. It didn’t start well in either France or Amborix. It’s kinda tricky,” Annie said.

  “Annie. If what you think is true, you could be in danger. Please, please be careful,” Samantha pleaded.

  Normally at this point in the conversation Annie would make a funny quip and roll her eyes. She didn’t have it in her to do either.

  “Annie, if there’s a mole in their department—or in ours for that matter—you need rock-solid proof. If it’s them, I can’t issue an arrest warrant without the International Witches Cooperative’s approval. It takes a serious charge for them to convene. If there’s proof, enough solid proof, France can issue one.”

  “It’s still just a thought. Once we kill Amelie, I’m not sure I’m going to pursue it, not unless something becomes obvious. It’s just too stressful here with them.” Annie played with the scrying crystal, wrapping the chain around her hand and letting it slide to the map.

  “As a side note, the Amborix Witches Council and their Wizard Guard are deeply saddened by the queen’s death and appreciate your diligence is alerting them and bringing them with. They want to help.”

  “Really? I’m kinda surprised they’re taking it that well. The Wizard Guard manager made it perfectly clear we weren’t welcome.”

  “They are… conflicted. You were in France looking for the princess. They can’t assist with that. That’s bringing in more people, stepping on France’s toes. You called when you were heading to the grave. But yes, I think they would’ve liked to know when you were first notified,” Samantha said.

  The silence was uncomfortable for Annie. She toyed with the cold crystal. “I really screwed this up.” She flicked the scrying crystal, sending it across the table and onto the floor. Spencer glanced at her.

  “You didn’t screw up. This isn’t your fault. You did your job. I read your autopsy report. You didn’t do anything wrong. Shit happens. You know it!”

  “I made a—”

  “Enough! Annie, this is ridiculous. A problem occurred. Screw France if they don’t see how you’re fixing the problem. Do what you always do. Confront the problem and fix it. Follow the rules and they can’t touch you,” Samantha said, ending more calmly than she started. “Be safe and call me if you need help dealing with the legal aspects of this case. I love you, and I have every faith you will stop the princess before the nonmagical world finds out.”

  “I should have called a worldwide wizard All Points Bulletin. I should have—”

  “No. Don’t do this. You can’t change the past. It’s done. Move on. You know this. What happens in the past can’t be reversed, no matter how much you wish it. Move on, Annie. I hate seeing you beat yourself up like this. Don’t, please don’t.”

  “Sammi, I… I’m glad you have my back. I need to go. I love you.”

  After hanging up, Annie glanced at Spencer, who was on the phone with his wife. The dark, wide circles under his eyes, were also sad. Seeing that Annie was finished with her call, he said a quick, anxious goodbye. “And?” he asked.

  “We’re fine.” Annie sighed.

  *

  Marielle and Roland smelled the stink from her field pack; it trailed after them and hung in the air as they strolled through Dinan.

  “We need to get these bodies back soon,” Roland advised as they stopped along the street where the bomb had exploded.

  “My word. This was larger than I expected,” Marielle said as she pointed to the two houses that were severely charred. Between the houses, the bomb had blown out a large hole in a small yard. “No wonder they believed the Americans had something to do with this. I would too.” She led Roland back down the street toward the center of town.

  As Annie and Spencer had done before them, they strolled through town, arm and arm as if a couple, and acted as though they were tourists, stopping at the bakery for croissants. Munching on their snack, they stopped at the curiosity shop and browsed the shelves, listening.

  In such a small town, they expected the news to still ring about the explosion, about the Americans who were here and questioned in response. But the talk was of something else. Something less important: the dog that had peed on the tourist.

  Marielle and Roland exchanged confused glances, unsure if this was important or not. Shrugging, they left the shop without purchasing anything, though Marielle had found a very attractive medicine box.

  Instead, they took up hands while they ate their croissants and continued to the police building, a former one-story residence at the center of town. They peered inside the first floor window and spotted the police officers that Annie had described as “Laurel and Hardy.” Beyond that, the men were alone.

  They entered through the open door.

  “How may we help you?” the short officer asked.

  “We worried when we saw the remnants of the bomb. There was someone lurking by the hole in the ground,” Marielle said. She bit her tongue to keep from laughing when the men perked up, as if excited by the news.

  It must be slow here, she thought.

  “Ah, yes. Was it a pretty woman with long curly brown hair? She would be with a tall man with light brownish-blonde hair?” the tall officer inquired.

  “No. No. She was a redhead. I’m sure of it,” Marielle replied. The men looked dejected.

  “And you are sure of this?” the shorter man asked. His jaw was tight and tense.

  “Yes, and there was no man fitting your description. We just thought you should know!” Roland said, taking up the tone of an agitated husband. Marielle bit the side of her mouth.

  “I apologize. But it is all good. They were just curious onlookers. If she were brunette like you, I’d worry. We have investigated them very thoroughly, but alas, the Americans were not responsible. We will, for you, go back and verify. Just in case. I am sure it is okay though.”

  The officers offered condescending smirks and headed to the door, where they were hit with light jinxes. Both men collapsed to the ground.

  “Whoops. Maybe I should have caught them,” Marielle said and chuckled as she dragged the tall man back to his chair and levitated him up. She bent him forward so he was sleeping on his cluttered desk, drooling on his paperwork.

  Working quickly, she assisted Roland with the other officer, levitating him to his chair. It squeaked with his weight as his body settled down.

  “Let’s see what we can see,” Marielle said as she rummaged through the files on the desk. “Anything?” she asked as Roland searched the second desk.

  “Yes. Here.” He pulled out the folders and sorted through the material finding all references to Annie and Spencer, the Americans suspected of setting off the bomb. “Yes, they were most definitely prime suspects, and it looks like they talked their way out of it.”

  Behind them, the door handle squeaked. In one movement, Marielle shot off a spell, sticking the handle. She waved her hand again so that the blinds flew closed and rattled against the windows.

  “Hurry. We must leave now!” she said. “Take the folders. Search over here for anything else. I will do this memory erase.”

  With two hands on either side of the officer’s head, Marielle chanted a spell, wiping his memory of Annie and Spencer and replacing them with memories of a new and very fake suspect. The door rattled.

  “Let me in! It’s me, Olivier,” shouted the man, pulling on the handle and anxiously banging on the door.

  “Anything else?” Marielle said through gritted teeth as she prepared the second memory modification spell.

  “Nothing. Finish up and we’ll go,” Roland said. Marielle chanted a spell that wafted to the man’s head, jumbling up his memories and making new ones.

  “I’m done,” she said. They headed toward the back of the station.

  With a wave of their hands, they shot wakening spells at the officers, who groaned and squeaked as they woke from their forced sleep. Meanwhile, Marielle and Roland teleported through the open window to the French Wizard Hall.

&nbs
p; Chapter 20

  Why didn’t I pour holy water on her body?

  Annie replayed the hours she had spent with the princess’s dead body. The care she had taken to examine Amelie’s wounds, her wrists, her neck. How they had run the crystal over her lifeless body, finding the killing curse.

  We found the curse. We thought we were done.

  She opened her eyes and stared at the list of properties Bucky Hart had sent. As she knew he would, he had easily found what she was looking for and delivered them quickly by way an ancient fax machine that sat unused in the middle of the French Wizard Guard department.

  Annie blinked her eyes rapidly, and the words jumbled before her eyes. It had been one unsuccessful attempt after another to kill the vampire princess, and the stress was starting to bubble over. Annie willed the tears in her eyes to stay put, expending much energy in the process.

  The list proved to be useful. A majority of the Van Alton holdings were located in France—though after a second look at the list, Annie realized she had missed two properties: one in Germany and one in Spain, belonging to Louis’s nearly extinct family line. With another quick look, she realized their German property was quite close to one belonging to the Maxillians.

  I missed those.

  With the scrying necklace around her hand, she scried for the vampire in those locations. Again, the crystal was dull and cold; she was no closer to finding Amelie. Annie sighed.

  Maybe she’s done with Van Alton properties and staying with her family homes?

  She called her counterparts in Amborix.

  Marcus answered on the first ring. “Hello, Annie Pearce.”

  “Hey. I’m so glad you are fine. We were worried,” Annie said.

  “Ah. No problem. Your window departure was much help,” he said, almost friendly and warm. “How can we help you?”

  At least we’ve warmed to them.

  “Well. Working on a theory, I had our computer department pull a list of all properties for the Van Alton and the Maxillian families. I’ve scried for the princess at all of them, but there’s this one property that has me intrigued. It’s a Maxillian family location in Germany, just over the shared border with Amborix. Do you know this property?”

  “Just a moment,” Marcus said.

  Annie listed as muffled voices discussed the question in German, a language Annie knew nothing about. While she waited for them to determine if this was news to them or to discuss her failings, her leg bounced nervously under the table.

  “We are not familiar with this location. It might be an abandoned home. I thought all Maxillian properties were in Amborix. We can send someone out to check it out,” Marcus offered.

  “I just scried for her there and came up empty. However, we think she has magical help. Someone is cloaking her, and, more importantly, someone is teleporting her.”

  “Are you positive?” Marcus asked.

  “No. I have no proof, if that’s what you’re asking. We just believe she is moving around France at an alarming pace.”

  He pulled the phone away from his mouth, and spoke anxiously to someone else in muffled German.

  “Could we have a mole in our department?” he asked Annie.

  “We could have one in ours, or France could. It could be anyone, so I’m not accusing anyone of anything. It’s just something we think might be happening. We’re definitely taking a closer look at all those involved,” Annie advised.

  “Amelie was discovered in France.” Marcus didn’t attempt to hide the implication.

  He doesn’t trust France?

  “I can send the coordinates if you would like,” Annie volunteered, though she worried they’d be walking into a trap. “Be careful if you send someone out to the house in Germany.”

  “We would very much like the coordinates and we will be careful. She’s dangerous—that we understand. And Annie, you be careful. It’s not a coincidence that she was found in France and you are now working with the French Wizard Guard.”

  He thinks France did this. Why? Does he think they’re trying to get me to investigate down the wrong investigative trail?

  After cautious goodbyes, they hung up.

  Annie fumbled with the list of properties and found the German mansion. She typed in the coordinates for Marcus. When he messaged to say he’d received them, she pocketed her phone.

  “Everything okay?” Spencer asked.

  “Amborix doesn’t trust France,” she whispered.

  “Interesting,” he said. “And that property?”

  “They’ll check it out. She wasn’t there, but it doesn’t mean anything if she’s got help.”

  Annie pulled the list closer and read it again, though her eyes crossed and her vision blurred. She was afraid to leave any house uninvestigated, but there were just too many.

  But then she noticed another smaller home, this one in the southwest corner of Austria. According to the records, it had been in the family for thirteen generations but had been left to rot a century prior. Annie pulled out the accompanying picture and stared at the home, long past decay.

  “This looks like a good hiding spot,” she said as she showed the picture to Spencer. The small home was made of stone and covered in dead brown ivy. The roof looked as though it had caved in.

  “Yeah, it does. What did they say about this… place?” Spencer asked as he examined the picture.

  “Just to be careful while we’re here,” Annie remarked as Fabien entered the conference room. “Look here.” She held out the picture for Fabien, who grimaced lightly at the dilapidated building.

  Annie scried again for the princess, but again there was no response from her crystal. “Amelie’s got to be cloaked. I should have her by now if she’s at any of these locations,” she said casually. She didn’t want to accuse, remembering what Samantha and Marcus had warned.

  “That would be difficult to find her then. I see that this looks promising, Annie. How many guards shall I have ready?” Fabien asked.

  “Well, there’s Spencer and me. I think five should make a good perimeter. I would like to leave Louis Van Alton and Sturtagaard here. Less dead weight to drag around.”

  “No problem. Sturtagaard seems comfortable in the vampire cell, and the nonmagical whines quite well. How will you work this?”

  Before Annie could answer, they all turned when the stench of rotten flesh wafted to them. Roland was coming their way.

  “All taken care of,” Roland stated. “I should run these bodies to the lab. Their stench is beyond horrible.”

  “Where’s Marielle?” Fabien asked.

  “She was behind me. I don’t know where she went. Maybe to work on paperwork.”

  “Thanks for the assistance, Roland. We were just discussing the plan. I’d like to have your team secure the perimeter. Spencer and I will teleport in and verify the vampire’s presence. This is, after all, an educated guess. If she gets past the perimeter, I’d like to have the tracker with us. This time we’ll have her outmanned.”

  “That is a good plan, Annie. I will return after I drop off the bodies.” Roland bowed once as he exited the room.

  Annie turned to the cabinet against the far wall in the conference room and perused the many vials. She reached inside, pulled out a vial of light purple liquid, opened the stopper, and sniffed the contents. It smelled bitter and spicy. She returned it to the stores, pulling out several vials of holy water. When she felt comfortable she’d taken what she needed, she closed the many open doors. “Who will be on the French team?”

  “I think Marielle and Roland, plus Jory. He is the best tracker we have. I think he will be able to find the princess, should she escape. I will also join you, along with a guard named Marcel. That should be plenty of coverage.”

  Annie hadn’t expected that. Unlike Milo, who directed, guided, and ruled from inside Wizard Hall, it was always nice to see a manager like Fabien actually work in the field.

  “Have you eaten recently? I think it’s time for a meal. It might be
awhile until you kill the vampire.”

  Spencer and Annie followed Fabien into the Wizard Hall kitchens. The enormous room was large and industrial with several large metal countertops running lengthwise through the kitchen. The counters held bowls of fruit, loaves of bread, a mixer, a slicer. Cabinets lined three of the four walls, and the far wall contained three extra-large stainless steel refrigerators, which hummed softly.

  “What shall you have?” Fabien asked.

  Before they could answer, he whispered something to a young elf in a chef’s shirt and hat. The elf nodded once and ran for the refrigerator, pulling out contents.

  “He’ll make some sandwiches, plus some additional ones to take with should we need them.” Fabien advised.

  They watched in fascination as the elf, named Brantley based on his name tag, laid out the bread across the counter. In the first sandwich, he spread a thick layer of tuna salad across the wheat bread. He layered it with a tomato slice and crisp green lettuce. When he finished, he cut it in half, placed it on a glass plate, and pushed it softly to Annie.

  “Thanks,” she said and took a bite. “It’s good.”

  The elf repeated the motion and made sandwiches for Spencer and Fabien, who accepted and ate. They all watched as the elf made additional sandwiches for their trip.

  “I think this should be sufficient. Thank you, Brantley,” Fabien said.

  They watched the elf toddle his way from the kitchen. Fabien packed his work in his field pack.

  “Thanks. This was a nice break,” Annie told him.

  “We have more should you want something,” Fabien advised. He sat on a stool across from them. “So what’s next for you?”

  “We’ll talk to Sturtagaard before we go. Let us know when everyone is ready,” Spencer said.

  “I will.”

  Annie and Spencer waved briefly and headed to the vampire wing.

  Because France had a smaller wizard community than the United States, the headquarters was housed in one building, completely underground, beneath the Eiffel Tower and a large portion of Paris. The main Wizard Hall filled out a large central office space, and different units or departments were housed in wings breaking off from the central room.