by Liz Schulte
“Well, it’s no big mystery. Obviously it was my mother.”
Leslie nodded. “At the very least. Probably others too. I can’t imagine that she could have opened a doorway to the underworld by herself, multiple times. However, we still don’t know why she did it. Maybe some of the bloodstains or runes are from her coven trying to get her back.”
“I don’t really care why she did it. How do we make sure the doorway stays closed?”
Leslie took a deep breath. “Well, we could do a cleansing and paint over the wall to seal it, but another one could be created anywhere. It doesn’t look like this one has been used recently. And I think why matters. It totally matters. If you look at any of our actions over the past few years they could be construed as bad, but seen as a whole you can see how good our intentions were. Jessica and you even used black magic to help us a couple times. Nothing exists in a bubble. With all light comes darkness. They are both in all of us.”
I thought back over everything Orion had told me when I first met him. “Orion mentioned something about she might have fallen to the darkness when she tried to get my father back after he died. That she wanted me to have a father. But that’s the stupidest excuse I ever heard.”
Leslie’s eyebrows shot up. “Is it?”
I scowled. “Yes. Would you choose to curse your unborn child to a life alone, of never being touched, all so she wouldn’t grow up with one parent. I mean in the grand scheme of things that was some pretty terrible planning.”
Leslie stared at the doorway. “How did your mom meet Orion?”
“He said she summoned him when she was young.”
She nodded. “I think we need to learn more about what happened between them before we can understand what any of this was or what we should do about it.”
“Let’s just cleanse it, close it, and find the Book of Shadows so we can get out of here.”
A gust of wind blew hard enough to slam the cellar door closed.
Leslie jumped and shivered. “We’ll talk more in the house. These shadows are creeping me out.”
The storm had picked up to the point it was once again hard to see. The wind sucked the door shut behind us as we came into the house. Leslie took off her hat and shook out her hair. “I don’t think Orion is going to let you leave whether or not you find the book. I believe he has a plan for you and I’m afraid you don’t have a lot of choice in the matter.”
My teeth clenched together. “He can’t stop me.”
The wind howled around the old windows. “Did you not notice the blizzard out there? I think we’re entirely at his mercy right now.”
The sky had been gray all day, but night was getting closer and there was absolutely no way we could drive out of here after dark. “If he wants me to do something or discover something, why doesn’t he just tell me? I’m sick of these games. What am I supposed to see? We’ve looked all over the house. There’s nothing here.”
“Maybe that’s the point,” she said. “Look, I’m not saying you’re wrong about your mom. I really don’t know. But if it were my mother, I’d take a second look. Something tells me the door is just the tip of the iceberg. Secrets are buried here. They’re not on display.” She headed over to stand in front of the fireplace.
A dull ache started at the base of my skull. All of this was such a waste of my time, but then again, what else was I supposed to do stuck in here during a blizzard? I tried to push away the emotion that was obviously clouding my judgement.
I joined Leslie by the fire and stood shivering to the bones in front of it. The flames flickered and licked up as if stretching toward freedom. The blues and oranges and yellows crackled together over the blackened logs. I felt like that in my chest. All the things I wanted silently burning and consuming me, as I stood frozen on the outside. People thought I didn’t feel, but I felt everything, I just didn’t show it. “Looking through those boxes, did you see any pictures?”
Leslie shook her head.
“Me either. Isn’t that strange? Don’t most people have pictures?” Pictures weren’t actually something I had either, so it didn’t jump out at me right away, but thinking impartially, most people had them. All of the coven members had pictures up all over their houses and every time I saw them they had new pictures to show me on their phones. It seemed to be what people did. They documented their lives in a way that almost said, “I am here. This is my life.”
“I guess it depends on the person,” Leslie said, carefully laying her scarf, mitts and coat down near the flame to dry them. “But, yeah, I think most people have at least a few photos.”
I nodded. So we had boxes of normal things, bizarre overly witchy decorations on display, but no pictures and a key that didn’t fit any of the doors. What did that all lead to? “This isn’t her house,” I said.
“What?”
“I think that’s what Orion wants me to see. This isn’t my mother’s house. He keeps saying I have some sort of connection to her. Well, I don’t feel any sort of link here—except in the baby room. The rest of this is just a front. It was what she wanted the world to see or something. I don’t know. Could it be an illusion?”
Leslie shook her head. “I don’t think so, but you could be onto something. Orion definitely wanted you to see your room.”
The baby room had been the only door that was shut in the entire house. He opened it, not me. I took off for the stairs, pretty certain we had closed it behind us. When I reached the hallway upstairs, he was already leaning against the doorframe, waiting for me with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Move,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t budge. “Why?”
“I want to see the room.”
“I showed you it,” he said, not moving.
I shook my head. “You showed me what you thought I wanted to see. You showed me what you thought would make me doubt what I know to be true. You showed me your version of the truth.”
His lips pouted slightly and he shrugged. “And did it?”
I shook my head. “No. Get out of the way.”
He slid past me, too close. “The only person in your way, Frost, is you.”
I put my hand on the knob and twisted, but it didn’t budge. Locked. This handle was different than all the other ones. It hadn’t been updated. I took the key from around my neck and inserted it into the lock. A click rang through the upstairs as the lock gave way. I gave Orion a triumphant smile over my shoulder as I opened the door. My feet stalled when I looked in. It was exactly the same.
I frowned, stepping inside. “How is this…You are doing this, aren’t you?”
He shook his head. “I showed you the room. I didn’t create it.”
I pressed my palms hard against my eyes. When I opened them again, it still looked the same.
“What’s the plan?” Leslie asked, stepping inside the room and Orion was gone again.
I took a deep breath. “If nothing makes sense like it is, then let’s redo it. Take down everything that looks like it belongs in a haunted house and put up what was in the boxes.”
“And what will that do?” she asked.
I threw my hands up. “I have no idea, but maybe we’ll see whatever we’re missing.”
We got busy switching everything out. We piled all the gothic decorations in the upstairs bathroom until all we had left of it was furniture that was too big to actually move. The house definitely looked more normal.
“What do you see now?” she asked.
The beginning of a smile tugged at my lips. “A serious lack of closets.”
I went to the thick dark paneling covering the wall behind where the staircase was and worked my fingers behind the edge of it. I yanked back as hard as I could until the thin board popped and a chuck broke free. The edge of what looked like a red door waited, hidden beneath. It had always been here, I just couldn’t see it.
8
JESSICA
Rhonda Wesselton’s house was really more of a cottag
e. It was snug with furniture, mostly tidy and well-cared for. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to clear my mind and think about what the killer would have touched.
There were no signs of forced entry and all the doors and windows were locked. That didn’t really mean much if we were talking about something supernatural. Even I was able to magically unlock the door, so obviously it wasn’t that hard. But I did it. I grinned despite the seriousness of the situation.
Okay, I had to focus now. The cottage just felt empty. I didn’t sense any magic traces left behind, but unlocking a door would use such a small amount of magic it probably wouldn’t linger long. So the killer comes in through the door, where does he go next? I stood in the living room, my hands splayed in front of me trying to decide.
The TV wasn’t on, so maybe Rhonda hadn’t been in here at all. I headed for the door on the other side of the room that opened to a cozy bedroom. They found her hanging in the closet. Was it a matter of convenience? Was she already in there, or was he hoping it would take longer to find her? Why would something supernatural care about that?
The bed was made and it was clean, but there was a lingering odor in the room. I opened the only other door. It led to a walk in closet and I was hit full-blast with the smell of rot, death, and cat pee. I pulled my scarf over my nose. My eyes watered, but I pushed forward. She hadn’t been dead long enough for this smell. It was weird. This was the room I needed to see the most. The closet connected the bedroom to the bathroom and it was a fairly decent size.
She had been wearing her robe. Maybe she had just come from the bathroom and was in the process of getting dressed when she was attacked. None of the bars were high enough in the closet that she wouldn’t be able to touch the ground, which definitely ruled out accident. The police must have taken the strap because it wasn’t there. I scanned the closet. He might have touched the clothing on either side of where she had been because they were pushed apart.
I reached up, careful to disturb as little as possible. As I touched a shirt to my right, something better caught my eye. Tucked in the corner, just beneath the pants was a green handbag—missing its strap. I squatted down, grabbed the corner of the purse with my gloved hands and pulled it forward.
It was just a regular, empty purse, but one that you wouldn’t carry without a strap. And Rhonda had been hung with a green purse strap. The killer had to have removed it at some point. “Gotcha,” I whispered.
I stood up and turned to see a figure in doorway, giving me a start.
“Good Lord, it’s foul in here,” Donavan said with a disgusted look. “They’re going to have a hell of a time selling this place. Did you find something?”
“The purse missing its strap.” I held it up as proof. “It was shoved to the corner under the pants section. I think it’s the one.”
“I guess, but it might not be.”
“Well, it’s the only one I see. Also green isn’t a super typical purse color. Lots of women might have one green bag, but I don’t know how many would have a variety of them. It isn’t like black.”
He shrugged, but nodded. “I guess I can see that. So now what happens?”
“We take it back to the shop and Kat and I will do our thing.”
Doubt still creased his eyes, but at least he didn’t outwardly express it. “How did you get the door unlocked?” he asked.
“Magic,” I said with a wink, knowing he wouldn’t believe me, and it would eat at him until he thought of a better explanation.
He stopped me from leaving through the front door. “Malone apparently has nothing better to do today than stare out his front window. He’ll see us if we go that way. I barely got in. Let’s go out the back.”
I relocked the front door and Donavan led me out of the kitchen to the backyard surrounded by a privacy fence. None of the houses around us were higher than a single story; it was the perfect escape if someone wanted to get away unseen. Donavan bee-lined to the back corner of the property behind an aging shed, and I followed. He thumped on a couple of wood planks before he found the loose panel he obviously knew was there. He took a section of four boards and lifted it up and over to the side, giving us access to the alley.
I stared at him for a moment before I went through. “I thought you said you didn’t know Rhonda well.”
“I didn’t,” he said, following me through then putting the fence back as it had been.
“How did you know about this?”
His face went blank and he glanced back at the fence. “About three months ago there was a civil suit filed against Johnson’s fencing company by Rhonda Wesselton. She sued him, stating that part of her fence was removable. He claimed she damaged it herself and wanted him to fix it. They went to court over it and it was ruled Johnson had to fix the fence, but he said he couldn’t do it until spring. The court agreed.” He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you read the paper.”
“That was in the paper?”
“In a town of seven thousand, almost everything that happens here ends up in the paper. It was in the section on current lawsuits.”
I shook my head. “I guess I missed it.”
We headed back to the store, the purse still clutched in my hand. “If you knew about that fence, it’s possible someone else knew too.”
“Sure,” he said. “I don’t see why not.”
“That means someone could have come up through the alley, went through the fence, entered via the kitchen door.”
He nodded. “But the door was locked.”
“The killer could have locked it after the fact.”
“Could have, but there were no signs that the locks were tampered with. No one else had a key to Rhonda’s house.”
“Are you sure her key was still in her purse for that door? Did anyone actually check?”
Donavan shoved his hands in his pockets as we waded through the snowy sidewalk. “You actually aren’t too bad at this.”
I laughed. “You don’t have to sound so surprised. Never underestimate the power of books and movies.”
We chatted about the town and nothing in particular on the way back, but it was nice. For once someone wasn’t pulling apart everything I said, trying to make sure I was okay. I appreciated the coven’s concern over my mental wellbeing and it wasn’t out of place, but it made me feel alone. As I’d figured out with Femi over Halloween when I helped investigate one of her cases, what I needed was to be normal again. I didn’t need the constant reminders that I was in some way broken. All of us needed that, , and weirdly enough Donavan made me feel normal.
We reached Enchantment and as I opened the door, Donavan moved to follow me. “What are you doing?” I asked, blocking the entrance with my arm.
“Coming inside.”
I shook my head. “Nope. You can go home and I’ll let you know if we find something.”
“No way. I broke into a house with you. That definitely earns me a spot to watch whatever voodoo you do next.”
“You don’t even believe.”
“So? That doesn’t mean I don’t want to see. Who knows, you might make a believer out of me yet.”
I stared hard at his shoes. I couldn’t let him in. The Abyss only had one rule and that was to not reveal it to humans. Granted we were no longer in the Abyss, but still … allowing a regular person to witness us cast or perform a spell that was more than just words and candles could have repercussions. Especially a reporter I barely knew. “I can’t.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
I held up my hands in a helpless gesture. “You won’t understand.”
“Only because you won’t tell me,” he said, more determined than ever.
I sighed. “Don’t make me turn you into a frog.”
His eyebrows pulled together and he half laughed. “You’re joking…right? You can’t actually turn people into frogs.”
I smiled faintly. “I can’t,” I said completely truthfully. Now if it were Katrina or Leslie or Frost threatening him, th
at was a different story.
“Okay, fine,” he said, taking a couple steps back. “You don’t want me to come in, then I won’t.”
“Sorry,” I said, but I wasn’t. It was best for everyone if he continued to disbelieve. But I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling this wasn’t the last we’d see of him today. Donavan didn’t seem like the type to back away from a lead for long.
“No problem. Just use me for my mind and shove me away.” He flashed me a charming, boyish grin. “I’ll see you around, Jessica.”
I watched him walk away before I went inside and locked the door behind me.
“I thought he’d charge the door,” Kat said when I turned around.
I glanced back out the window, but Donavan was still gone. “How’d the cleanup go?”
“Sixteen bags of junk. The two of us have lost a lot of shit in our lives. The occasional item still falls from the ceiling, but nothing like before. It’s mostly cleared up.” Her eyes trailed to my hand. “That’s, um, an interesting purse. It’s doesn’t scream Jess though, if you want my opinion.”
“It’s not mine. It’s Rhonda’s purse—and the killer used its strap to hang her. He definitely touched it.”
Katrina smiled. “Then I guess we have work to do. Come back to my lair.”
“And I unlocked her house door. With magic. Just sayin’.”
“Really?” Kat clapped her hands together. “See? I told you! You have to try. That’s awesome. Do you want to do a you’re-going-to-get-your-magic-back dance?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Not at all.”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
In the back room, Selene sat on the couch, legs crossed, reading the police reports.
“Hey!” I said. “What are you doing here?”
She stood up with a bright smile, looking beautiful as ever. Being Queen of the Fae certainly had its perks. She looked as young as when we all first met in college. Her skin was flawless and looked like it had been brushed with a fine gold dust…hell, it probably had. She hugged me tight. “Kat thought you guys could use some help since Leslie and Frost are off doing their thing. Plus, it’s good to get away for a bit. So tell me about this.”
