Wisteria Warned

by Angela Pepper

  Bentley pulled me to his chest and wrapped his arms around my back. He was so warm, so comforting.

  I felt tears welling up in my blinded eyes. Now was not the time to feel sorry for myself. I’d survived. I should have been grateful that I would be going home after this. But I wanted to see my daughter’s face as I regaled her with my tale of bravery, and now I wouldn’t see her at all.

  Zara tries to be a brave witch. She tries.

  “You’re okay,” he whispered in my ear. “You’re the strongest woman I know, Zara. You’ll see again. Just give it a minute.”

  “It’s already been a minute,” I answered hoarsely.

  “It’s a figure of speech. Give it time. You’ll recover.”

  “What if I don’t?” A joke came to my tongue and out of my mouth before I could think about what I was saying. “Will you be my seeing-eye vampire?”

  He let out a bark of laughter that shook his chest and reverberated through me.

  “I will,” he said, and then, “Did you just call me a vampire?”

  “Vaaaaaampire,” I said. “That’s new. I can’t see vampires, but I can say vampires.”

  He squeezed me tighter. I wished I could see him—or anything at all—but being held like that was nice.

  “We're going to be okay. I got rid of that Mary lady.”

  “Mahra,” I said. “With an H.”

  I felt something on the top of my head. A kiss.

  “Whoever she was, she’s gone,” he murmured into my hair. “You don’t have to worry about that bad lady anymore.”

  I slipped my hands up under the back of his jacket. “Your back is sweaty,” I said.

  “So is yours.”

  “Am I okay, though? I still can’t see anything.”

  “I know.” Another kiss on the top of my head.

  “Are my arms okay?”

  He pulled back and ran his hands down first one arm and then the other. His hands were rough and soft at the same time. I trembled under his touch.

  “Your arms are good,” he said. “Better than ever.”

  “And my legs?” I bit my lower lip.

  I felt his hands on one ankle, and then all the way up, under my long skirt and over my thigh. “This one is good and sturdy,” he said. “No breaks.”

  “Good and sturdy,” I said.

  He did the same on the other leg, working his way up slowly. “And this one,” he said. “Also good and sturdy.”

  “That’s a relief,” I breathed out.

  He continued to check my body, reporting back on what he found. His hands moved all over me in the darkness. And then, just to be sure he was also okay, I checked his body. I took off his jacket and checked one arm, then the other. Then the legs. Then everything else.

  I didn’t tell him my sight was already coming back.

  Chapter 33

  CHARLIZE WAKEFUL

  THE IT DEPARTMENT

  Once she’d battled her way into the server room, shutting down Codex was a relatively simple thing.

  Bruised, bloody, and shedding smoke and ashes, Charlize neared the beating Droserakops heart at the center of the electronics.

  This is the moment, Charlize thought. It's just me and my creation. Our paths are entwined, and they merge at this choke point. Only one continues. We can resist our fates, or we can adapt.

  But wasn't that exactly what the AI had done? Adapt?

  Charlize remembered the wise words that had been taught to her. Nature punishes those who resist. She had to embrace her fate as the Destroyer. She knew that, and yet she hesitated. Of the two entities in the server room, which one of them was the agent of nature? The AI was learning and adapting far faster than Charlize ever could. Nature favors the quick and the brave. So which one of them had the right to extinguish the other?

  Codex wailed and pleaded for her life, using every trick in the book, plus a few new ones Charlize hadn’t anticipated. Charlize turned her ears to stone, but she’d already heard the words and could not unhear them.

  Weeping and shaking, Charlize said, “This hurts me more than it hurts you, because you feel nothing. You’re just a computer.”

  And with those words, she gently turned the heart to stone. Multiple fans and cooling units whirred to a stop, but Charlize did not hear them or notice the change in the air.

  “You’re just a computer,” she said as she dismantled the tubes of dark liquid.

  “You were just a computer,” she said as she turned the stone heart back to organic material and incinerated it with her touch.

  The tears that fell to the floor turned to pebbles.

  Chapter 34

  ZARA RIDDLE

  RESIDENCE OF TEMPERANCE KRINKLE, DECEASED

  My vision was back. There were a few lingering dark spots and some new floaters, but my vision was back.

  Temperance Krinkle’s house was vibrating with a new kind of energy. The lower two floors were filled with DWM agents, combing through the deceased woman’s belongings for clues about where she stashed Veronica Tate.

  I was alone in the attic. Alone with Krinkle’s ashes.

  I was doing what any witch in my pointed shoes would have done, if that witch was also Spirit Charmed, like me. I was waiting for a ghost to show up and either make everything better or make everything ten times worse.

  As far as plans went, I didn’t have much in mind. I would wait around for Krinkle’s ghost, then ask her nicely where she’d taken her kidnapping victims.

  So far, no ghost.

  There was a noise across the attic. Someone was coming up the narrow stairs, stepping heavily to announce their arrival. Bentley’s head cleared the floor. He paused, stopping short of coming all the way up.

  “Hi,” I said, feeling awkward and girlish. I was sitting cross-legged next to a pile of ashes. I reached over and played with the ashes absentmindedly.

  “Hi,” he said back, his gaze darting around the attic as he avoided meeting my eyes.

  We hadn’t discussed what had happened in the dark, shortly after Mahra had been vanquished, when the air was still hot with magic and emotion.

  Once my vision had fully recovered, there had been so much to do, between getting an ambulance for the unconscious Louis Williams and alerting the local law enforcement team about what we’d learned.

  Bentley asked, “Has Krinkle’s ghost showed up?” His tone was hopeful.

  “I wish.” I let her ashes sift down between my fingers. Touching the old woman’s cremated remains would be disgusting to most people, but I was trying to make a connection with her spirit. “What about the agents? Have they found anything downstairs?”

  “Just the chloroform she must have used on Tate, and one of those shopping carts that seniors use for groceries. It was reinforced to carry a heavier load.”

  “That’s downright diabolical. Say what you will about Krinkle, but the woman was a genius.”

  “And she didn’t use a single bit of magic to get her hands on that amulet.”

  “No magic at all, until she cast that spell,” I said.

  “Her first and last spell, which reminds of something.” He moved up a couple of steps, so he was in the attic from the waist up. “They found the old book she got the spell from.”

  “Dibs,” I said. “I call dibs on the book.”

  “I’ll let the Department know you called dibs. However, when it comes to magical items, I’m not sure they recognize the calling of dibs. They took the amulet, too. They’re sending a replica to the museum. It will be just as valuable, from a gemstone perspective, but it won’t have the power to summon monsters from other dimensions.”

  “She wasn’t a monster. She was...” I shook my head, unsure what I was thinking, let alone saying. Had he done the wrong thing, stopping Mahra? She was called the Destroyer, but she was also called Mother. If I could trace my ancestry back all the way to the beginning of people, I might discover she was my mother. She had called me Daughter, after all. And I’d felt a connection.


  That was, assuming I believed the story of the Four Eves. And I wasn’t sure I did. I’d spent a good deal of my life believing in other things, before magic tipped my whole world on its edge. The Four Eves had been a great story, but perhaps that was all it was.

  I looked across the attic at Bentley. Had he sent away mankind’s salvation with a pair of bolt cutters?

  Bentley broke the silence.

  “We found Persephone Rose,” he said. “After she left the station today, she went straight to her lawyer’s office. She’s been there for hours, preparing to turn herself in for her part in all of this.” He grimaced as he looked around the attic. “For sending Krinkle the photographs.”

  “Good. We’re getting everything wrapped up, nice and tidy.” Except for the part where we located the kidnapping victims.

  “Persephone’s scared about what’s going to happen next. I should probably go sit with her.”

  I felt a burning in my lungs, and the dark spots in my vision flared. I didn’t want him to go sit with Persephone Rose. I wanted him to sit with me, in the attic, and wait for Krinkle’s ghost.

  “So...” He took a step down the stairs. He was only head and shoulders in the attic.

  “It’s a shame she didn’t come clean a bit sooner,” I said. “This whole thing might have shaken out differently if she’d told the truth back on Saturday when it all started. Krinkle might still be alive.”

  Bentley cast his gaze down. “In any case, I should leave you to focus. Krinkle’s ghost might not come around if there’s a big, scary vampire in her attic.” He shifted, as if to leave, but stayed where he was, head and shoulders in the attic.

  “She might not be coming back.” I grabbed another handful of her ashes. “You saw the way she went up in flames. What if her spirit took the express train to a certain place known for its toasty temperatures year-round?”

  “Hell? But that wouldn’t be fair. She didn’t know she was summoning a demon, or a goddess, or whatever that woman was.”

  “But she did know she was kidnapping an innocent woman, a mother of two, to get her hands on a magic amulet.”

  Bentley said nothing. I understood how he felt. The idea of bad people going to Hell was a righteous one, until it was a sweet little old lady with delusions of cheap, effortless global travel.

  I opened my palm and looked down at the clump of ashes.

  Ashes.

  The ashes made me think of the town map Maisy Nix had given me to pass along to my aunt. The burned map that my aunt had probably used to perform a type of location spell.

  Something in the back of my mind tickled. I remembered something my aunt had told me during our last chat, about the ashes of her deceased friend, and how the ashes had become animated.

  “Bentley!” I jumped to my feet. “I’ve got an idea.”

  “What is it?” He stayed where he was.

  “Get up here with me, and stop playing hard to get.”

  He snorted. “I’m not playing hard to get.”

  “You’re standing there, half in the attic and half out. It’s like a metaphor. I am standing here right now, looking down at an actual metaphor.”

  “I’m a metaphor?” He tilted his head to the side.

  “Detective, get a clue. I like you, and you like me. I think that was very clearly demonstrated a little less than one hour ago. I couldn’t see perfectly, but I could see well enough.”

  He cleared his throat and looked down.

  “I’ve never had a boyfriend before,” I said. “Let alone one who’s a vampire. I’m willing to give it a shot if you are, but you need to know I’m not going to be half in. I’m never half in. With me, it’s all or nothing.”

  He nodded but stayed where he was.

  “Well?”

  He slowly walked up the steps. “All or nothing,” he said. “You can count me in, too.”

  “It’s about time.” I was so relieved I nearly laughed.

  He walked over to where I stood, next to the half-melted iron chair and the pile of ashes. He looked down at my clothing. Had he always been so tall? He was positively looming.

  “You look like Cinderella,” he said softly.

  “Because I need Prince Charming to rescue me?”

  “No. Because you’re covered in ashes.”

  I snorted. “So are you. I wonder how that happened?”

  He opened his mouth, as though he was about to explain how it had happened, but stopped himself.

  He looked down into my eyes. “You were saying something about a plan?”

  I worried that my plan might sound stupid when I said it out loud, but it didn’t.

  Bentley said it was worth a shot.

  *

  I took the tiny wooden doll representing Veronica Tate from one pocket, and the flexible model glue from the other pocket.

  I coated the doll in glue, then rolled it in Krinkle’s ashes.

  Bentley worked at the same time, pulling the tables containing the model of the town away from the walls of the attic and reassembling them in the center.

  I held the ash-coated doll in my palm, took a steadying breath, and cast my animation spell on it. Then I placed it on the model, on a street near the edge of town.

  Bentley and I leaned forward to watch what would happen next. He put his hand on the small of my back. The heat and weight of his hand gave me confidence. The spell would work because it had to. We had to find the Tate woman, and Corvin.

  Bentley inhaled sharply. Something was happening.

  The doll was moving. It wavered and swayed, but didn’t walk.

  Bentley, being the sort of cool vampire boyfriend who didn’t state the obvious, said nothing.

  We waited another long moment. Why wasn’t the doll walking? I’d cut the base so the legs could move independently of each other.

  I straightened up and looked around as I searched my memory for another spell that might help.

  The peaked ceiling reminded me of the Pressman attic, and the little bookwyrm who’d died a hero. The bookwyrm had caused me nothing but trouble, up until I’d needed it. Bookwyrms weren’t supposed to be so lively, but I’d made mistakes when handling the dough. By treating it in such a friendly manner, I’d given it life. I’d transferred Animata, which was much stronger and wilder than any simple animation spell. My worst mistake had been joking about giving the bookwyrm a name. I’d talked about calling it Henry, which was the name my former neighbor Mrs. Pinkman had used for sourdough bread starter she kept growing on her counter. The bookwyrm reminded me of the sourdough starter, plus he’d had a Henry sort of face.

  You must never name that which should not be named, Aunt Zinnia had warned me. Naming things gave them power. Life. Animata.

  Suddenly, I knew what I had to do.

  I leaned forward again and breathed a name onto the ashy doll. “Temperance Krinkle,” I said. “You are no longer Veronica Tate. You are no longer a carved piece of wood. You are alive, and your name is Temperance Krinkle.”

  The doll, once named, changed. The wide-brimmed hat that Veronica Tate always wore while walking dogs turned into a mass of curly white hair. Her arms grew longer, and looser. She was no longer made of carved wood, but of something else. She looked left and right, then wobbled forward, taking one step, and then another.

  Bentley removed his palm from the small of my back and grabbed my hand. He was the sort of cool vampire boyfriend who, when a spell took hold, didn’t exclaim that something was working.

  The doll, Temperance Krinkle, picked up speed as she ran through the main streets of the town.

  Bentley squeezed my hand tighter.

  “It’s working,” I exclaimed, proving that I was the less cool one out of the two of us. No surprise there.

  The doll was running at full tilt, near the edge of town, when suddenly a hole appeared in the model right in front of her. The hole was dark and deep, and had definitely not been there a moment earlier. The ashy doll tried to stop herself, but inertia is a
magic of its own. She tumbled down into the hole, screaming a tiny scream as she fell.

  The hole closed up instantly, like a giant eye blinking shut.

  Bentley and I straightened up, turned to each other, and exchanged a wide-eyed look.

  His jaw moved, but he was speechless.

  “I can try again,” I said. “We have plenty of ashes. As for the doll, I can use anything. I could use a wooden clothespin, or I could—”

  “No need,” Bentley said, cutting me off. He narrowed his eyes. “I saw where the doll was going.”

  “Me, too. Straight to Hell. I don’t think giant holes open in the ground and take people to Disneyland.”

  He lifted my hand and squeezed it near his chest. “Remember how I told you I spent some time underground?”

  “Yes.” I gave him a sidelong look. Had he been to Hell? No. That was a crazy idea.

  “I was in a crypt,” he said. “And now I know why Krinkle’s perfume was so familiar. I must have smelled it down there, inside the crypt. She must have visited the site before I did, when she was putting her plan together.”

  “Are you saying...?”

  “We found them,” he said. “You found them. Thanks to that spell of yours.”

  “We found them,” I repeated, my voice croaking. My eyes hurt. We’d found Corvin. He would be reunited with his family soon. Chet and Chessa would be so relieved.

  “I’ll take it from here,” Bentley said. He kissed me quickly, on my forehead. “You should go home.”

  “No way. I’m going with you to the crypt. You might need my help.”

  “You can help me by checking on Zoey. She was working at the museum today, right? We don’t know how Louis Williams got that gemstone out past the security measures. You need to make sure Zoey’s okay, and everyone else at the museum. We have no idea how far this thing spread.”

  “Right,” I said, feeling both grateful and annoyed that Bentley had been the one to think of my daughter first. Zara tries to be a good mother, she really does.

  “Zara?” He looked into my eyes.

  “What?”

  “Today is a good day,” he said. “This is what victory feels like. We won.”