Spring's Calling: (A Witch Detective Urban Fantasy Novel) (Seasons of Magic Book 1)

by Sarah Biglow

  “Trenton, what are you doing?” Jacquie’s voice cut through the battle of wills like a sharp blade.

  I blinked the precinct back into focus. The sounds came flooding back and made my ears ache like I’d been standing too close to an amp. I was still sitting at my desk but the video in front of me was a little less black. Whatever I’d been doing was starting to work. Unfortunately, the underlying magic came back full force now that I wasn’t actively trying to fight it and it turned completely dark again. I turned to see Jacquie standing over my left shoulder staring at me.

  “Sorry, what was the question?”

  “I asked what you were doing. You know, rookie, you’ve been zoning out a lot lately.”

  “I’m sorry… I guess the case is just getting to me a little.”

  “I told you if you couldn’t handle it, you needed to tell me.”

  “No, I’m fine, really. It won’t happen again.”

  “Now, what the hell are you doing?”

  “Oh, uh, I just thought I might have a way to clear up the footage.”

  “You’ve got some magic trick that the tech boys don’t?”

  If only she knew. A seed of dread took root in my gut and for a moment the possibly that she did know nauseated me. I laughed to cover the fear. “Maybe. I need to look into it more.” I spun around with my back to the screen. “How did it go with Mrs. Cho?” I suspected I knew the answer already, but I needed the deflection from what I’d been doing.

  “She’s still pretty shaken, but she’d never seen our other victim before.”

  “Same with Mrs. Mendoza’s husband and granddaughter. But they’re going to put a list together of known associates. Maybe we’ll find some link there.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Jacquie, what if these killings are just random?”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Call it a hunch. I mean, I know we’ve only just started digging, but if we can’t find a link between these two then why would the person who killed them have found it?”

  Jacquie leaned with one hip against the corner of my desk. “Maybe we’re looking in the wrong place.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Meaning?”

  “Maybe we don’t need to go as old school as we’ve been thinking. We live in the twenty-first century.”

  “Something tells me Mrs. Mendoza wasn’t on Facebook or Instagram,” I said.

  “You’d be surprised.”

  I shook my head and turned back around, ready to do some Facebook stalking to see if I could find either of our victims online, when Jacquie rounded the desk and grabbed her jacket off her chair. She gestured for me to follow.

  “Where are we going?” I called.

  “For a ride. Come on.”

  I glanced around the bullpen but no one paid us any attention so I trailed after my partner. I slipped into the passenger seat and waited for her to start the engine, but she sat there, hands resting against the bottom of the steering wheel. After a beat, she looked at me. “Something is going on with you.” It was a statement of fact not a question.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I protested.

  “There’s something other than this case in your head and it’s been distracting you all shift.”

  “I told you last night and I’ll say it again, I’m fine. I can handle this case or any case. I know how to separate my personal and professional lives.”

  “Look, if it has something to do with what you told me about your mother, I want you to know I’m here to listen if you want to talk about it. Maybe getting it off your chest will give you the clarity to focus on this case. Because, I’ll be honest with you, right now I’m really not sure you are going to cut it.”

  Her words were harsh but her eyes showed how concerned she was for me. That look in her eyes reminded me of my mother. Even if she didn’t realize it, that look made me feel fourteen years old again. I plastered a confident smile on my face and said, “Thanks, but like I said, I’m good. Now, where are we going?”

  “I heard it was your birthday today. Figured I’d treat you to dinner.”

  I laughed. “You should have led with that.”

  That hint of concern crept back into the edges of her mouth but she said nothing. She started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. We ended up eating Chinese out of cartons, sitting on a bench near the Public Garden, overlooking the small lake. It was still too cold to have the swan boats out on the water so they sat docked at the far end. I held my container of Szechwan beef close to my chest for warmth, the spiciness making my nose run. We sat in silence for a long time.

  “How are the kids?” I finally broke the tension between us.

  “Good. Spending more time with their mom lately.”

  “That’s good.” From what little I knew about Jacquie’s private life, she’d taken in her niece and nephew while her sister-in-law was in rehab. Jacquie’s brother had died in a car accident when the kids were young. She didn’t like to talk about her family life at work. Something we had in common.

  “Yeah. I think she’ll be ready to take them back soon.”

  “You’ll miss them,” I said and nudged her shoulder with my free hand.

  “Yeah. And what about you?”

  I arched a brow. “What about me?”

  “Are you seeing your father to celebrate?”

  I let out a bitter hiccup of laughter. “He sent me a text this morning. That’s it. Frankly, that’s more than I wanted from him anyway.”

  “He’s still your father. He still loves you.”

  “Maybe, but it doesn’t mean I have to let him into my life. I’m doing just fine on my own.” I checked the display on my phone. We still had half an hour left on our dinner break. The dream from this morning flitted through my consciousness. Maybe a little visit to family wasn’t the worst idea after all. “Do you mind if we make a stop before we head back to the precinct?”

  Jacquie closed up her carton. “Where to?”

  “To see some family after all.”

  Six

  I always got the sense that my mother was watching me whenever I visited her grave. Maybe that was just how cemeteries were supposed to be. Jacquie waited for me in the car as I wound my way through bits of scrub grass and weeds to my mother’s headstone. It was out of the way near the back of the cemetery and the plot was neatly weeded. A small bouquet of daisies sat propped against one corner. My mother’s favorite. My father had clearly been by recently. I stopped in front of the stone and tugged the pendant out from beneath my jacket, the metal warm to the touch thanks to body heat.

  “Hey, Mom,” I greeted. I didn’t expect a response, but a gust of wind picked up in that instant and the honey flavor of my mother’s magic bloomed around me. I closed my eyes and soaked in the familiar scent. I could almost feel her wrapping her arms around me as she’d done on many a cold night.

  “I’m here, sweetheart.” I heard her voice in my head as if she were standing right beside me.

  Tears stung my eyes and my vision blurred. I blinked until my lashes couldn’t keep the deluge back and tears streaked down my cheeks, running in rivulets over the cleft of my chin and onto my jacket. I had so much I wanted to say to my mother but words failed me. I’d made so many promises yet to be kept. I’d honestly thought by now—after ten years—my mother could be at peace. That I would have closure. But I was no closer to solving the case than I’d been as a distraught fifteen-year-old coming home to find her life in ruins. I dabbed at my cheeks and hitched a breath.

  “I don’t know where to start. I’m so sorry I haven’t found who took you from us yet. I haven’t given up, I promise. Things have gotten kind of strange around here. The case I’m working, it’s steeped in dark magic. It can’t be a coincidence that it’s happening now when we are so close to the Equinox, to the prophecy coming true.” The pendant pulsed between my fingers. “I can feel the power shifting, Mom. It’s fighting hard to find equilibrium. Harder t
han it has been in years.”

  “Remember her words.” It was like a breath against the nape of my neck, setting the tiny hairs on edge.

  “I couldn’t forget Eleanor’s warning if I tried.”

  Most of the branches of our family tree had died out years ago so, when I came along, it seemed pretty damn definitive that I was the one destined to fight the coming evil. As such, the prophecy had been drilled into my head until I could recite it in my sleep. My parents never let me forget the burden I carried having been born a girl. I’d resented it at first, being so young. But it meant more time spent with my mother, learning everything she could teach me about magic. It hadn’t been enough. I still remembered finding out what destiny awaited me when I was eight years old.

  Winter had settled in, the days growing short and dark. The heat was cranked in our apartment to ward off the cold. I didn’t really understand what the change in seasons meant for people like us. Not yet. But I could see as soon as the days changed, my mother’s mood soured. She snapped at my father and stormed around the house. They didn’t think I saw them fight, but I was keenly aware of the stiff embraces and glares over dinner. I knew what was coming next: divorce. My friend Angie Vazquez’s parents had gotten a divorce. She’d said it had started with arguing and one day her dad just didn’t come home. So I’d started to prepare myself. I’d even packed a suitcase to be ready for when my parents were no longer under the same roof.

  Today had been one of the worst days. They’d shut themselves in their bedroom, but I could still hear their voices rising and falling from behind closed doors. I snuck into the hallway outside their room and listened, ear pressed to the crack between the door and the jam.

  “Katie, be reasonable,” Dad said.

  “She needs to know, Matthew. We have to start now before it’s too late,” Mom argued.

  “She’s just a kid. Can’t we wait a few years until she’s older? Until she can really understand what’s happening?”

  I could hear floorboards creak. “They say it could happen soon.”

  “But they don’t know for sure. They could be wrong. They have been before.”

  “My mother told me when I was her age.”

  “And how’d that work out?”

  “I turned out just fine.” My mother’s voice rose with the last word.

  “Because it wasn’t about you.”

  “I didn’t know that. Not until Ezri came along.”

  “How do we even know it’s her? She’s not the only one left.”

  “She’s the only girl. You know Madeline can’t have more children.”

  The argument had my attention and I didn’t notice the doorknob turn until the door was open and my mother nearly tripped over me. I watched as my parents exchanged furtive glances before my mother bent down to my eye level. “How much of that did you hear?”

  I bit my lip, not wanting to admit I’d been snooping. “Am I in trouble?”

  Her lips turned up into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. I could see she was trying not to cry. “No. But I think we need to have a talk.”

  “Are you and Dad going to get a divorce?” It came out before I could stop the words.

  “Of course not. Why would you think that?” Dad asked.

  “You fight all the time and I know it’s about me,” I answered, my voice barely above a whisper.

  Mom pulled me into her arms and shushed me, her hands patting my back. I let her hold me like that as long as she wanted, even though I still didn’t believe my father’s words. Finally, Mom stood up and guided me to the living room. Dad trailed behind us, keeping his distance. Mom disappeared back into the bedroom, returning with an old book.

  “Ezri, honey, you know how you can do things other people can’t?”

  “Yes. We have magic.”

  ‘That’s right. And it has been in our family for a very, very long time.” She patted the cover of the book. “This has been in our family for hundreds of years. In it, one of our family members wrote about a very special girl in our family.”

  I wiped at the tears in my eyes. “Who?”

  “It doesn’t say her name.”

  “What does it say?”

  She opened the book and flipped through the yellowed pages to the middle of the book and passed it to me. “Here, you can read it for yourself.”

  I took in the swirls of the penmanship of the author. I turned back to the front page and saw that it was the diary of Theodora Harrow, born 1671. Returning to the page my mother had marked, I read Theodora’s words:

  Eleanor’s parting gift came in the form of events yet to pass. I transcribe them here so that we may never forget her sacrifice or that our blood must live on. When the world is balanced anew and fire rains down as midday turns to night, the last daughter of Harrow’s blood shall rise to stand against the Old Guard’s return.

  I looked up at my mother. “What does it mean?”

  Mom pressed her lips into a thin line. Dad remained silent. Finally, she took the book out of my hands and said, “Ezri, you are the last daughter of Harrow’s blood. We think that you are meant to do great things and have great power. You can never forget these words.”

  I blinked back tears, returning to my mother’s grave. For the longest time, I’d thought I wouldn’t be alone in the battle to come, but as the last decade proved, my assumption had been painfully wrong. I hadn’t just lost my mother though. A familiar face I hadn’t seen in years flashed before me and I let it pull me back into the past again.

  I was thirteen years old and it was a blistering summer day. Desmond and I sat side by side on the porch of the rented house overlooking the Cape. He’d been descended from Eleanor Pruitt, my ancestor’s sister, the one who’d made the prophecy that hung around my neck like an albatross. I wiped beads of sweat from my forehead, my hair cropped short. My cousin couldn’t have been any more different. Blue eyed and dirty blond, he towered over me, having nearly five years on me in age. I often wondered why he hung out with me at all.

  At present, Desmond sipped from a bottle of root beer. He glanced at me and said, “You know, you’re lucky.”

  I let out a laugh. “What for?”

  “You have a destiny. You know what’s awaiting you.”

  I couldn’t resist an eye roll. “Whatever, Des. I didn’t ask for this stupid destiny. Why does it have to be me?”

  “Because you were born with the right qualifications.”

  “You mean boobs?”

  He shrugged and tried to hide a smile with his soda bottle. “All I’m saying is I wish I had what you do. Having magic running in your veins is great, but sometimes I just feel so rudderless. Like what makes me so special that I’ve been given this power?”

  “You can have my destiny. I mean, sure, it’s nice to hang out with my mom, but everyone expects me to be this great and amazing person. But I’m just me. I’m just Ezri.”

  He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, skin sticking to skin in the heat, and leaned in. “I can’t take it from you, but I’ll be there for you if you need me. I promise.”

  A sudden chill pulled me out of the memory and back to my mother’s graveside. The pendant in my hand still generated significant heat—more than it should have at this point—and I shoved it back beneath my jacket. Another gust of wind blew and I braced against the headstone so it didn’t take me with it. My teeth clattered together against the cold and my legs ached from standing still. I shook them out to get the blood flowing again. Fresh tears turned to icy patches on my cheeks as I remembered Desmond’s promise. One he’d broken two years later. He’d been part of covering up my mother’s murder and I’d lost one of my closest allies.

  Footsteps crunched through the stiff grass behind me, sending my hackles up. I clenched my fists and spun on my heel, ready to bring my hands up to defend myself. Tension fled from my muscles as soon as Jacquie came into view. I blew out a breath and tried to shake the sense of anxiety that suddenly settled in my chest, constricting my
lungs.

  “Sorry to interrupt your visit, but we need to go. We’ve got another body.”

  Seven

  The sun had faded from most of the sky by the time we pulled up at the corner of St. James Street and Berkley Street. It wasn’t far from the theater district and one of the numerous law schools that Boston boasted. Like the other two scenes, it was well traveled, even on a weekend. Before I climbed out of the car, I took quick stock of the security cameras that were visible. There weren’t nearly as many as at the previous scenes but it was likely that one had captured the killers in action. I fully expected the footage to be corrupted like the others, but that didn’t matter. If I could manage to fix one set, I could do all three.

  The moment I stepped out of the car, bile burbled into my throat and I ducked back in. Jacquie was already halfway to where Tricia bent over a body. I swallowed and pulled out the sandalwood charm. I inhaled deeply, letting it wash everything else away. I nudged the car door open and took a breath. It wasn’t nearly as overpowering and nauseating but I could still smell the dark magic stinking up the scene, even more so than Mr. Cho. We’d just barely missed our killers. Steeling myself, I traipsed from the car to join my partner by the body, pulling on gloves as I went. My chest tightened when I saw the victim—a teenage boy with rust-colored hair. His skin, which had probably been pale in life, was ashen in death.

  Tricia looked over at me, dark circles wreathing her eyes. “Meet Preston Elms. Poor thing was only sixteen. Just got his learner’s permit.”

  I crouched beside the medical examiner and took in Preston’s body. I could smell the limestone as if he’d been lying in a quarry. The same dust coated his jacket and I could almost see the whorls of a fingerprint in the fabric of his T-shirt. I lifted his right hand—his limb and joints still supple—and found angry red abrasions and what looked like stone chips beneath his fingernails.