Bewitching Bedlam

by Yasmine Galenorn

  And then, he started moving again, slowly building his strokes, thrusting deep as we lost ourselves in the rhythm of our bodies.

  BY THE TIME I woke up, Aegis was gone to his lair. I drowsily remembered him escorting me upstairs, where I promptly fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. I blinked, pushing myself to a sitting position, squinting as I glanced out the French doors leading onto my balcony. Even from here, I could see the snow falling heavy and thick. I pulled the blankets up around my neck, not wanting to get out of bed into the chill that pervaded the room.

  “Murp?” Bubba bounced onto the bed, landing solidly by my side.

  “I’m getting up, yes. You’ll get your food. Just give me a moment.” I yawned, stretching, then pulled Bubba to me and scratched him behind the ears. He purred, shifting so that I could reach the good spots. The next moment, he was drooling on my arm. Happy drool, I called it, when his cat nature overtook his cjinn nature and he reveled in all things feline. “You like that, don’t you? Hmm, boy? Good boy.”

  He rolled out of my arms and onto his back, exposing his belly. I thought for a moment about rubbing it and wishing Rachel voted off the island but, considering the potential for backfire, I decided to forgo that little pleasure.

  “Thanks for the offer, Bub, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. Come on, let me get dressed and then we’ll head downstairs.” I bit the bullet, throwing back the covers. The chill of the morning hit me full force and I groaned, shivering as I made my way to the bathroom where I turned on the shower full force. As the room began to fill with steam, I made sure my bedroom door was locked. Ralph might be in jail, but his stunt had left me paranoid. With Aegis asleep, I didn’t want to have to face any new unwanted visitors.

  “Bubba, dude, can you watch the door for me?”

  “M’rrow.” He took up his post, guarding the door with a stare so intense it was almost comical. He had a way of frowning that reminded me of a grumpy troll.

  I wasn’t sure what he could do if something came through, but I wouldn’t put it past him to have a repertoire of attacks, even if he just latched onto an ankle and bit. Feeling a little more secure, I draped my robe over the back of my vanity chair and stepped under the steaming water. The pulse beat down on my back, and I finally began to loosen up. My body felt sore—and it wasn’t just from wild monkey sex with Aegis. Apparently, I was holding onto far too much tension. My muscles were all knotted up. I turned the showerhead to “pulse” and let the throbbing water pound against the back of my neck and shoulder blades. It wasn’t quite as good as a massage, but it helped.

  Ten minutes later, I lathered up my hair and rinsed it out, then turned off the water and cautiously emerged from the shower. Wrapping a towel around me, I lowered myself to the chair, leaning my elbows on the granite counter. Running over things in my mind, I took stock of the situation.

  One: I needed to furnish the Bewitching Bedlam so I could open on time.

  Two: I had to assess the damage Rose’s death had caused to my reputation and start deflecting any collateral damage. Speaking of Rose, I had to—three—go see her parents. I’d call Sandy in a little while and go over that.

  Four: the coven was having a meeting tonight, since we were on the verge of a full moon, and I needed to prepare for the Esbat.

  Five: I should talk to Delia and ask her what she learned from Linda.

  Six: Ralph was sitting in jail for a crime I was pretty sure that he didn’t commit, and I felt like there had to be some way I could help prove him innocent. But a little niggle of doubt flickered in the back of my mind. What if he had killed Rose? Even if he had been in thrall, he would be the one to face the harshest part of the punishment. If we caught the vampire—my guess was Rachel—who enthralled him, the Moonrise Coven could mete out its own punishment. But still, the law of the land would see Ralph punished far harsher than her, if he had been her triggerman.

  All of these thoughts jumbling together in my mind, I combed out my hair and began to dry it. By the time I had my makeup on and my hair done, the warmth from the steam was wearing away. I slid into my robe and padded back into the bedroom. Deciding jeans and a turtleneck would work well for the day, I dressed and pulled on a pair of rumble boots. I clattered downstairs to feed Bubba and get some breakfast. It was time to start the day.

  “DAMN IT.” I was staring at my computer.

  “What’s wrong?” Franny appeared beside me.

  I steadied myself. I was starting to get used to her popping in and out.

  “I haven’t checked my email in several days and now I find two cancellations for our opening weekend. We only have one guest room left booked.” I gnawed on my pencil, trying to decide how best to approach this. I scribbled down a note to refund their deposit and stared glumly at the screen.

  “Do you think they heard about Rose’s death yesterday?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. They’re both locals from Bedlam, so my guess is probably. Either that or Ralph’s trash-talking campaign is working. Either way, it sucks.”

  I glanced at my reservation planner. Hoping our one remaining guest wouldn’t take it into her head to cancel as well, I jammed the planner back on the shelf above my desk and quickly glanced over the rest of my to-do list. Except for furniture, the inn was pretty much ready to open. We still needed a lot of landscaping done, but that wouldn’t happen till the spring.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Franny’s offer was tentative, but it was the first time she had shown any interest in the bed and breakfast and she seemed genuinely concerned.

  “Thanks, Franny. I appreciate the offer, but unless you can scare up customers or quench the rumors going around, I don’t think so. But thank you.”

  “All right. But if you need anything. Well, I’ll let you think.” Franny silently vanished.

  As I sat back, deciding what to do next, my phone rang.

  “Yo, Maddy.” Sandy’s voice was perky but breathless. “I thought we could go over to talk to Rose’s parents this afternoon. I really don’t want to wait much longer.”

  I rubbed my forehead. A headache was rapidly brewing. “You’re right.” I glanced at the clock. “It’s ten now. I need to run a few errands. Meet you at the Blue Jinn at noon?”

  “Sounds good. We can take your car—you’re better at driving in the snow than I am—and you can drop me off at the diner afterward. Listen, I’ve been thinking about where Rachel could be staying and I have a couple ideas. I’ll run them by you on the way to the Williamses’ house.”

  I knew exactly what that meant. “You aren’t thinking we should perhaps pay a visit to her if we can find her, are you? That I should unleash Mad Maudlin: Vampire Hunter again?” Visions of old crypts and mausoleums and creeping through a cobweb-shrouded labyrinth flashed through my mind.

  “Why not? Rachel can’t do anything to us during the day, can she? And if we can find her and stake her, well, problem solved.” Sandy sounded so matter of fact that I hated to burst her bubble.

  “Aren’t you forgetting the treaty Linda set up with Essie?”

  “That doesn’t cover Rachel since she’s not part of Essie’s court.”

  “True, but even though by rights we could take her out, we just can’t go around staking vampires right and left. How do you think that’s going to go down if we just willy-nilly stake somebody we think is behind this? We have no real proof right now.”

  Sandy snorted. “Proof, schmoof. For one thing, Essie herself said that Rachel’s not welcome in her court. And second, we both know that Rachel’s the ultimate reason Rose is dead. So we find her, stake her, and say nothing. Nobody’s going to know. There won’t be any proof left behind except a pile of ashes, and those are easy enough to clear away.”

  I pressed my lips together, mulling over the idea. It would take care of the issue, and it wasn’t like I didn’t have the experience behind me. But this was different. If I staked Rachel without ever telling Aegis and he l
ater found out, it could destroy our relationship. And the truth was, we didn’t have any proof.

  “Sandy, this isn’t the 1700s. We have to do this through the proper channels.”

  “I think the proper channel may find her hands tied. At least hear me out.”

  Letting out a long sigh, I caved. “All right. We’ll talk this afternoon. Meanwhile, I need to dash. I have to cast a quick Prosperity spell and then I have a couple errands to run. We had two cancellations this morning. I have to ensure that we don’t end up closing our doors before we even open them. I love this house, but I never intended to just live here and do nothing.”

  After I got off the phone, I retreated to the library, which I had turned into my ritual room. This was one room that was fully furnished. Every direction had its own altar on a square table.

  To the north, the altar was covered with a green cloth, and held a small oak chest, open and filled with malachite and smoky quartz, with tiger’s eye and hematite, and strings of peridot and citrine. A brass pentacle sat on the table, and statues of a wolf, bear, and stag.

  To the east, my altar had a sphere of lapis lazuli, along with clear quartz and apatite, celestite and blue calcite. The crystals rested on a pale yellow cloth. A fan made of raven and owl feathers was propped next to a small censer with a smudge stick in it. And figurines of an owl, raven, and hawk faced toward the east.

  My altar cloth for the southern altar was burgundy, and the altar was decked out in carnelian and garnet, with the bones and skin of a snake, a statue of a salamander, and a wand fashioned of copper and crystals.

  And to the west, the cloth was blue, and the stones were pearl and aquamarine, rainbow moonstone and selenite. A crystal bowl filled with Moon Water rested on the altar, along with statues of a dolphin, salmon, and shark. I had found a piece of driftwood and it sat at the base of the bowl.

  In the center of the room was a round table where I worked my magic and read the bones. On it sat one of my crystal balls and a candelabra with three candles in it—one red, one black, and one white. While most of the built-in shelves were filled with books, I had reserved an entire section for my spell components. Now, I sorted through them, selecting a piece of parchment paper, some Dragon’s Blood ink and a calligraphy pen, a vial of Prosperity oil, and a bottle of Uncrossing Water. I set them on the center table, then lit the candles.

  I had put my Uncrossing Water in a plant mister, and now I walked the Circle widdershins—counterclockwise—spraying it every few feet to mist the air. It cleared out the lingering cobwebs of energy from other spells and from anybody who might be passing through on the astral and etheric realms. While I could have smudged the space, the Uncrossing Water was stronger—it also issued a stern warning to stay out if not invited. Once I was done, I removed my sword from the wall where it hung on stag-shaped sword hangers. Facing the north, I held out the sword and slowly turned, casting the Circle.

  Between the worlds, in sacred space, I cast this Circle ‘round,

  I weave this web of magic strong, I center it and ground

  The energy, that it might hold against all with harm’s intent,

  I call upon great Arianrhod, that she will, her magic send.

  I call the spirits of the Earth, to ground the magic’s flow.

  I call the spirits of the Air, sweep through with winds that blow.

  I call the spirits of the Flame, burn brightly with your fuel.

  I call the spirits of the Waves, temper, cleanse, and cool.

  This Circle cast, the magic dance, visions let me see,

  Between the worlds, I do stand. As I will, So Mote It Be.

  The Circle settled. As the hum of magic flowed around me, I replaced my sword on the wall and took my place at the table. I stared at the parchment for a moment, trying to think of the best way to word the spell. Finally, dipping my pen in the Dragon’s Blood ink, I etched several runes on the parchment and then, in the center, wrote:

  Bring abundance to this dwelling.

  Keep the coffers always swelling.

  Radiate a welcome light,

  Bring the guests both day and night.

  With purses full and smiling ways,

  Let them book their relaxing stays.

  So Mote It Be.

  After the ink dried, I dabbed a drop of the Prosperity oil on all four corners, then placed my hands over the paper and focused my energy into it, chanting the incantation three times. As the energy settled, I placed the paper on the altar to the north, and opened the Circle. That should hopefully counter some of the bad press the Bewitching Bedlam was getting.

  Returning to the kitchen, I gathered my keys and purse and coat, and headed out for the day.

  FIRST STOP: THE sheriff’s office. I needed to feel out Delia for her take on what was going on. The Bedlam Town Hall was a large, brick building on the opposite side of town. The sheriff’s office, fire department, county clerk, courthouse, utilities office, mayor’s office, and library were all contained within the sprawling stone building. Built over a hundred years ago, the Bedlam Town Hall was a beautiful monstrosity of brick, stone, and masonry.

  I parked in the lot and, zipping my jacket against the chill, dashed through the snow that continued to fall to the side stairs leading to the nearest entrance. The hallway wasn’t exactly crowded, but there were more people hurrying through the building than I would have expected. Maybe there was a run on building permits or something.

  The hall intersected with another shortly after the entrance and I turned left. To my left was the library. To the right, City Hall. I continued straight, toward the wing that sprawled out in the back section. There, was the fire department, the courthouse, and the sheriff’s office. As I headed straight toward Delia’s office, I caught sight of Joel Purdy—the fire marshal. He was a werebear, and the president of the Bedlam Arborists Society. We had talked briefly when I was hunting for a landscaper, but he recommended waiting till spring, promising to hook me up with a gardener who was also a landscape designer. We waved as I hung a right and pushed through the swinging doors leading into the sheriff’s office.

  Delia was standing beside the receptionist, who was also the dispatcher, reading off of a tablet. They both looked up as I entered.

  “Maddy, I’m glad you’re here. But give me a couple minutes, please. Just take a seat over in the waiting room and I’ll be with you in a moment.” She wiggled her fingers toward a seating area.

  I gave her a quick nod and sat on the microfiber sofa. As I ran my hand along the arm, I realized I liked the feel of the material. Hmm, maybe I should consider microfiber instead of leather for the living room. It wouldn’t be sweaty during summer, and microfiber was easy to clean. As I jotted a note to myself about it, I realized that a text had come in earlier that I hadn’t noticed. I didn’t recognize the number as I opened the message.

  There, in bold letters, it read: durholm hall. tunnels. be cautious. she’s not alone.

  I stared at it for a moment, trying to figure out who had sent it and exactly what it meant. There was no greeting, no other words. The number was the same one that I had received the text of the painting from.

  who is this? I texted back and waited. Nothing. I tried calling the number but nobody picked up and there was no voice mail to leave a message.

  As I puzzled over the text, it clicked in my head. Of course. The text had to be about Rachel—it couldn’t be about anybody else, could it? Straining to remember anything I might have heard about a Durholm Hall, I didn’t notice Delia was standing beside me until she spoke.

  “Maddy? Maddy?” Delia’s voice penetrated the fog of my thoughts.

  I jerked my head up. “Oh! I’m sorry, I thought you were going to be longer.”

  Delia grinned. “Nah. Not much cooking around here today. I just had to clarify something with Bernice. Come on back to my office.” She led me through the maze of desks, then through a door with a frosted window. Stenciled on the wi
ndow was her name, along with the word “Sheriff” below it.

  As I settled into the chair opposite her desk, she poured a cup of coffee and offered me one.

  “Thanks. Milk and two sugars, please.”

  Delia fixed my coffee, handing it to me when she was done. “So, what brings you here?”

  “I wanted to find out how your talk with Linda went. Also, I wanted to ask about Ralph. I kind of want to see him, but I’m not sure if that would violate protocol.” Truth was, I wanted to snoop around as much as possible, but I wasn’t going to tell her that, nor was I going to mention the text I had gotten. Not yet.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Maddy.” Settling in at her desk, Delia blew on the steaming coffee, then took a slow sip. “Oh, I needed that.” She leaned back. “Okay, here’s the thing. I tried to talk to Linda, but she was evasive.”

  “Evasive?”

  “She really went out of her way to sidestep most of my questions. I wanted to get a feel for what was going on with the vampires and the coven. After all, the treaties were forged between Lena—the previous vampire queen—and Linda.”

  “Right. And?”

  “Linda wouldn’t talk about them. So I did a little digging. Now, I know you’re going to discuss this with Sandy but please, don’t let it reach any other ears. Especially anyone who might be involved in this mess.”

  By her tone, I knew she had discovered something disturbing. “I promise. So what did you find?”

  She held up one finger. “Wait.” Crossing to the door, she peeked out, then shut it carefully and came over to sit beside me. In low tones, she said, “We have a serious problem in town, Maddy. Since you’re on the Inner Court Council of the coven, you need to know, especially since I think Linda knows, but she won’t talk about it. But you can’t tell Aegis—at least not now.”