by Liz Schulte
“How? I can get you an umbrella if that will help. I can’t do anything.”
“You keep saying that, but you aren’t testing it. What if the magic comes back to you? What if you just need practice? You can still cast, Jess. There is magic there. You just aren’t giving it a chance.”
“You mean like that?” I gestured to the room.
“That doesn’t count,” she said. “I was thinking bigger than the spell obviously.”
“Look, I don’t mind if you want to try to get my magic back, but right now, I think it’s a waste of time. We have something a lot more important to focus on. We need to figure out what happened to these women. If someone or something is attacking our customers, we have to put a stop to it.”
Her mouth settled into a line. “Fine, but I expect you to pick this up with more enthusiasm as soon as we figure this out. Deal?”
“Deal,” I said. “But you know, it wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen if I didn’t get it back.”
“Don’t even speak it. You will get it back. You will.”
I went back to the room that was still spitting out hair supplies from the ceiling and dug our books off of the table and took them into the office. I dumped them all at her feet and took the desk. “I’m going to text Leslie and Frost to let them know what’s going on,” I said.
I sent them a quick message and opened the police reports, skipping right to the narrative. The scene details were completely different. Rhonda was found hanging by a green leather purse strap in her bathrobe several hours after her death. There was no sign of forced entry, all the doors and windows were locked, and she had no signs of defensive wounds. However, there was also no note and there was one other thing the officer noted that seemed a little weird. There was a small cut just under her left ear. Emaleigh was found on her bed, the window was open and there were signs of a struggle around her room. The neighbors said they had heard fighting between her and Jasper Hixson the night before. Hixson was questioned and could not provide a confirmable alibi. Emaleigh had the same small cut just below her left ear.
I started googling, next. I started with murders by strangulation and tried not to think about what sort of watch lists that put me on, not to mention the images I would never unsee. It didn’t produce much. Too broad. I stretched my neck to the side and searched “unsolved strangulation murders” next. Slightly better results, but still not narrowing the way I needed it to.
I closed the laptop. “This isn’t going to work. I need a police database.”
“What exactly are you looking for?” Katrina asked, looking up.
“Similar murders.” I showed her the police reports. “On the surface, they look completely different, but these marks. Those are strange. Those could connect the crimes and if the killer has a signature, I think the odds are good that he’s killed before.”
“If we had something belonging to the victims, or better yet, something the killer might have touched…”
Of course. I hadn’t thought of it, but that would work. “You’re a genius. We could use a magic energy spell. It would, at the very least, tell us if we are looking for a human or an other.”
She nodded. “And if it isn’t human, then what?”
“Then we’ll hunt it down and take care of it.”
The bells on the door jingled. “Hello,” Donavan called.
Katrina and I met each other’s eyes. Oh—the hair ties! We ran at the same time.
“Hello. Coming,” I shouted, wading through the knee-deep debris. Luckily the ceiling had mostly stopped spitting objects. “I thought I told you we were finished,” I yelled.
He stepped around the bookcase and his eyes bulged. “What the—”
Katrina and I finally made it to him, doing our best to block his view and corral him away from the mess.
“What in the hell happened here?” he asked.
“Cleaning,” Katrina said. “We’ve been cleaning.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “I think you’re doing it wrong.”
There was a thump as a book dropped from the ceiling.
“What was that?” he asked, trying to look around me.
“What gives you any right to be so nosy? Have you ever heard of minding your own business?” His eyebrows pulled together. “You can’t call my store names, then come in here and stick your nose into our business. Why are you here?”
He drew a deep breath. “You’re a very strange person. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“No,” I said. “Answer the question.”
“Which one?” he asked.
Katrina and I had backed him almost to the door. “Why are you here?”
“I told you, I want to be kept in the loop on anything you find. I had the impression our last conversation didn’t end on a good note so—”
“We haven’t found anything,” I said. “I’ll let you know if I find anything worthwhile.”
He leaned in close. “I don’t believe you,” he said. “First and foremost, I’m a journalist. In my profession, yes even in a town like this, you develop a pretty good bullshit meter. Like I know you meant it when you said I wouldn’t recognize real magic and I know you mean it when you say you aren’t swindling people. But I also know you are lying to me now. You’ve found something. What is it?”
“The marks on the neck.”
He nodded. “I noticed those too.”
I held up my hands. “That’s it. That’s all I have to go on right now.”
His eyes narrowed. “But that isn’t exactly the truth either, is it? You have some sort of plan. I want in.”
I huffed.
“It’s annoying, isn’t it?” Katrina said. “You used to do this to us all the time.”
I felt a momentary grief for what I used to have. I used to be a human lie detector. I could sense the truth as easily as a vampire could hear a pulse. But now it was gone. One thing about nonbelievers was that when you wanted them to go, all you had to do is talk about what they deemed impossible. “It’s magic and I know how you feel about magic.”
He glanced over our shoulders toward the chaos, doubt lining his face. “Try me.”
Katrina looked at me and I shrugged. He didn’t mean it. Besides, I wasn’t actually going to expose us all.
“If we can find something that maybe the killer and the victim both touched, there’s a spell that we could do that might help us track the energy of the items,” Katrina said slowly, looking uncomfortable about sharing this with a human reporter.
“Energy of the item,” Donavan echoed. “And what would that do?”
“Make it easier to find other victims. If this is the same killer, the mark means something. It might mean these two aren’t the first. A signature might not show up right away.”
“And what are you basing that on?”
“I don’t know. About a million horror movies? Serial killer documentaries at Halloween. Countless fiction book. Absolutely nothing substantial. What should I be basing it on?”
He smiled. “Let’s say, for a moment, that I’m willing to go with you on this. What exactly do you need?”
“It depends what’s still there. Something both people would have touched.”
He nodded. “Well, the paper has officially been canceled for tomorrow. The snow doesn’t look like it’s going to let up until late tonight if you can believe forecasts. My day is suddenly wide open. Emaleigh’s house may not have what you’re looking for—”
“But Rhonda’s would.”
He tilted his head. “It’s not that far from here. Interested in a little breaking and entering?”
I glanced at Katrina.
“Will it end up in the newspaper?” she asked.
“I’m not likely to tell on myself,” he said. “Look, I don’t know what to think about this magical energy crap, but at this point you two are the only other people in all of New Haven interested in saving an innocent man. I’ll take whatever help you can give me.”
; I nodded. “It couldn’t hurt.”
Kat raised an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me. Someone has to be here to bail you two out. Also any help we give better stay between us and anonymous,” she said with a grin. “You guys go and have fun. I’ll be here…er… cleaning.”
I made a face at her, but glanced back at Donavan. “I guess it’s just me and you,” I said.
“I’m ready when you are.”
We went outside for the third time too many today. We didn’t talk much on the walk there. The cold and the wind made it nearly impossible to say anything even if we wanted to. Not that I knew what to say. I’d met him less than a couple hours ago and already we were committing a felony together. I had to wonder if that was my influence or his. Or maybe we just brought out the worst in each other.
He took my arm and pulled me closer.
“What are you doing?” I leaned away from him.
“Just in case someone’s looking out the window, it’s best to look like we’re just out here enjoying the snow.”
I took a deep breath and tried to relax, though the cold air burned my lungs. “Did Rhonda have family?”
He shook his head. “Not that I know of.” He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into a sort of sideways hug. “I don’t see anyone. Make it fast.”
“What?”
“Unlock the door.” He nudged me toward a tiny house nestled amongst some trees while he pretended to look down the street. It was so small I almost missed it.
I tried the door. It was locked. Of course. Katrina should have come. I knelt down in front of the lock and put my hands over it. I could do this. I thought of the spell and focused my energy. Nothing. “Damn it,” I whispered.
“Donavan, is that you?” an older sounding man called out.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “Just out checking the roads.”
“Do you think we’ll have a paper in the morning?”
“Doesn’t look good,” Donavan said easily. “How is Amelia?”
I blocked them out and tried again. Holding my breath and pushing with everything I had, a head rush hit me hard and fast, almost knocking me over.
Click.
My hand shook as I reached out and tried the knob. It worked. I pushed the door open and ducked inside.
Holy crap it worked.
7
FROST
I felt around in the dark cellar for a light. Nothing.
I took off my gloves. Regular magic didn’t come as intuitively to necromancers as death magic did. I had to learn the other kind and Selene and the coven were my first teachers. But I had been practicing this particular light spell. I could do it. I rubbed my hands together until they were warm, then held my left palm up and hovered my right hand over it, focusing on creating light between the two. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. The light started as a pinprick and slowly grew until it was the size of a baseball. I lifted my left hand into the air as high above my head as I could reach (almost to the ceiling) and left the ball of light there to illuminate the cellar.
The glow didn’t reach all the way to the far corners, but it went deep enough to get an idea of what filled the space. Mostly cobwebs, spiders, and long forgotten storage. Wooden boxes of canning jars were stacked on one side. A few pieces of broken furniture lay scattered around the room. But nothing screamed witch or showed hints that anyone had been down here.
I brushed a cobweb out of the way as I went deeper into the room, and flicked my wrist to move the light so I could see all the way to the back wall. And that was where things suddenly got interesting.
On the stone wall there was a door drawn in a chalk like substance. It was crooked and jagged in spots, but definitely a door. All around it were scrawled symbols that looked vaguely familiar, though I couldn’t read them. They radiated magic. If only I hadn’t left my phone in the car, I could have taken a picture. Or even if Leslie had come with me. She was so much better at witchcraft than I was.
A shadow shifted or darkened or changed in some way because it caught my notice. I moved the light to the area and went over, but nothing was there. At least nothing I could see. I had lived in the Abyss long enough to know that if something didn’t want to be seen, there was always a way to hide, especially from human eyes. My undead alarm buzzed beneath my skin. Probably a ghost of some sort, maybe something darker. It was hard to say. I searched the spot a bit more, then gave up and refocused on the symbols, committing as many of them to memory as I could before I headed back up to the house.
“I almost sent out a search party of one,” Leslie said with a yawn when I came back inside. “Did you find anything?”
“Maybe.” I described the cellar and the door to her.
She declined my offer to draw the runes and stood up instead. “Just take me there.” She shrugged into her heavy coat, pulled her wool hat over her dark blond hair, and slipped on mittens.
“I also saw someone outside.”
She looked up. “Really? Did you talk to them? Was it a neighbor?”
“I don’t know. She asked what I was doing at the winter witch’s house and tried to appear threatening. I called her bluff and ran her off, but she said she would be back. I don’t really think it’s anything we need to worry about though.”
Leslie frowned. “About how old was she?”
“Around our age, I guess. Maybe younger. What does that matter?”
Leslie’s eyebrows knit together as she scanned the field around the house one more time. “We don’t know anything about this farm—and a ‘celestial body’ telling you that you inherited this house won’t stand up in court. It could actually belong to someone else now or at least the bank. It isn’t like you have been paying a mortgage or taxes on it. Also someone has been keeping up the property. All of the fields were mowed this fall because there’s no grass or weeds sticking up above the snow. In fact, everything looks as well kept as if someone is actually living here. Well, except the covered furniture. Plus the key you have doesn’t fit anything in this house—or that we know of.” Her mouth twitched. “How many people do you think knew your mother was a dark witch?”
“I don’t know. I assume it wasn’t a secret. At the very least Corbin knew.” I hadn’t spoken to the vampire since before Christmas and I was completely okay with that. I had humiliated myself with him enough for one lifetime. He could just stay gone. “When I asked if he knew my mother he said he did.”
Leslie nodded. “Then who knows who has been visiting here. Other dark witches might try to seek her guidance or feed on her power. Her coven may still be using the house. Things are a bit dusty, but everything still works, including the lights. That’s weird. Someone is footing the bill for all of this. It’s likely that we are the ones actually trespassing.”
She was right. And to make matters worse, all of those things were things I should have noticed. My head was too far out of this game. All I’d been able to think about was my past and Orion since I started this trip. I had to get my shit together before I got us killed. “I introduced myself as Winter’s daughter and the woman had no idea I was a necromancer. If she does belong to a coven, they’re only a coven in practice, not in magical ability.”
Leslie took a deep breath and her shoulders relaxed. “At least that’s something. Let’s take a look at this door.”
Back in the cellar everything was just how I had left it, even my light was still going. I smiled a little at my achievement.
Leslie and I went to the door. “Can you move the light closer?” she said, leaning in close to the wall to look at the faded writing. “It’s familiar, isn’t it?”
I kept my attention on the shadows this time, not trusting whatever was hiding in them. “Yeah, I swear I’ve seen something like it before.”
She scratched her forehead. “Don’t know that it’s still active, though. I don’t feel much coming off of this.”
I blinked. “Really? I do. The magic in here feels powerful to me.”
She straightened back to standing. A smile spread over her face. “Of course.” But then the smile vanished and she backed away a step. “Oh. That’s probably bad then.”
I wasn’t following at all. “What? Use your words.”
Her gaze darted to the corners of the room then back to me. “You sense something else in here too, don’t you?”
My eyes flickered to the deep shadow beyond us. “We’re not alone if that’s what you mean.”
Leslie produced a ball of light in the blink of an eye that made mine look as dim as a firefly and tossed it to the other side of the room. There was nothing in sight. “Shadows,” she said. “They’re guarding the door or at least feeding off it. She must have opened it to a negative place and they came through. They’re scavengers and they feed on negative energy. Mostly, they are harmless, but if they get strong enough, they could be a nuance.”
I looked back and with the brighter light in the room I saw something I had missed before: bloodstains on the floor. It didn’t look like just one either, but many separate puddles in various spots in front of the doorway. “I remember where I saw the runes,” I said.
“Where?”
“On the Pole of Charon,” I said. “Why, what were you thinking?”
“That makes sense. I was thinking if you could sense magic and I couldn’t, it was death magic, but then—” she stopped herself midsentence.
“But then that’s bad.”
“That’s not exactly how I meant it,” she said. “But yeah. The Pole of Charon makes sense.”
“Finish what you were saying.”
“The Pole of Charon makes sense because it was from the underworld and Charon used it to transport spirits to Hell. That’s the same sort of magic you possess. So wherever this door opens to, we have to assume it’s something in the underworld, which supports the idea that someone was performing dark magic here. The question is, what was she letting in?”
“What makes you think she wasn’t sending something away?”
Leslie pointed at the blood. “You don’t need a blood sacrifice to banish something to the underworld. That’s how we sent Corbin. But to get something from there over to here, you do. That’s why it’s dark magic.”
