Ripples in the Shadows

by Kathy Dexter

  Riley and Kat disposed of the ritual remains, while Logan drew Hunter outside into the shadows of trees close to the house. He had to talk to her, make things right.

  When he touched her cheek, she didn’t back off. A good sign? “I’m sorry.” He looked as contrite as he could manage. “I got stuck on my high horse ordering you to scram. Blame it on brains temporarily scrambled in that fiery blast at the garage.”

  Was that a smile tickling the corner of her lips? Her voice sounded velvety soft, but iron resonated in her words. “I make my own decisions. Always.”

  “You bet.”

  Theo ran out the door with Kat and Riley close behind. “Logan, will you take me to the hospital? I promised Mom I’d be with her.”

  Logan ruffled his hair. “Sure thing, kid. Go call Dad to meet us there.”

  After Theo went inside, Logan turned to Hunter, attempting to read her. “We’re okay?”

  “Maybe. With time.” Hunter drifted further into the shadows to join her sister and Riley.

  She didn’t look back.

  CHAPTER 37

  H UNTER TWISTED AND TOSSED. Thunk! Whatever hit the floor startled her awake. She sat up in bed and blinked to clear the sleep haze from her brain.

  The lamp on the nightstand spread a soft glow. She’d fallen asleep without turning off the light. Hunter glanced across the room to the window where stars and a sliver of moon rebuffed the darkness of the night sky. What time was it?

  She stretched out her legs and bumped against an object at the foot of the bed. Heart slamming against her ribs, she grabbed the mirror before it could slide off. Then she leaned over to find the grimoire face down on the wooden floor. That must have been the sound that woke her.

  Hunter looked at the alarm clock. Three a.m.

  She’d brought the magic mirror upstairs after dinner to search the grimoire for a counterspell, a ritual, a potion, anything that would destroy the curtain in her brain and free her memories.

  After Kat had shared the meal with Hunter and Ally, she returned to Clarissa’s for the night.

  Cleanup at the museum and signing books for the children had exhausted Hunter physically and emotionally. Helping Theo’s mom had been a bright spot, as well as having Logan admit to his mistake. All that had made for a much-too-busy day. Yet that hadn’t been the the crux.

  Meeting the sister whose existence had been blocked by the dark curse had shocked Hunter’s emotional center. Anger at a masked enemy, guilt over not being there for Kat, a deep-rooted urge for vengeance all tangled inside.

  The chains which bound her to the spell tightened. Her soul stretched and heaved, determined to break free. I’m going to blast that damn enchantment out of my skull!

  When Ally excused herself to confer with clients, Hunter removed the mirror from the kitchen wall and hurried to her bedroom for privacy. She spent hours scouring the reflection of the grimoire’s pages. One large section dealt with cures for various ailments, while another listed pages of protection rituals. One of those mimicked the spell Riley cast on the books in the museum. Methods for manipulating the elements of nature and connecting with the Spirit World seemed both complex and scary. Did Twyla use any of these in her séances?

  Nothing Hunter read contained directions for cancelling or neutralizing a spell cast by someone else. A lot of pages remained unread when the writing blurred and Hunter’s consciousness faded.

  She slept.

  Until she knocked the grimoire to the floor.

  Hunter placed the book on the mirror’s surface, braced against the headboard, and closed her eyes. Her fingers wrapped around the amulet. There must be a better way.

  The blue dragon warmed her hand. A rumbling snapped Hunter awake. A storm? No, the starry night showed no signs of that.

  The rumbling continued. A combination of murmurings from the sapphire dragon and the unicorns’ hooves stamping around the mirror’s frame. Pages in the grimoire flipped over by themselves and stopped.

  Hunter reached for the book. Or tried to. Some kind of force restrained her, kept her from moving. She could only watch as a blue beam from the amulet flashed onto the opened page. Voices tumbled over one another and then merged into whispers that rustled around her. Had the sounds really emanated from the book? Or had her imagination created them inside her head?

  Hunter listened anyway:

  Stay with dragon on his flight;

  Fear not wind or blackened night;

  See where mother’s bones do lie

  Father’s ring will bring them nigh.

  When the whispers died away, the amulet snorted. Or rather the sapphire dragon did as he bulged and stretched until he popped out of the amulet and into the air.

  Enlarging to the size of a horse, the dragon floated by the window, wings pressed against both sides. He swiveled his head to wink at Hunter.

  Henry? She pinched her cheek. I must still be asleep. A dream. Can’t be happening.

  The dragon grunted. A grin widened his mouth and exposed sharp teeth. Time to go.

  Hunter gasped. The dragon had mind linked, done everything exactly as she’d portrayed Henry in her book. Well, if this was her imagination galloping wild, she intended to see where it took her.

  She bounced out of bed. Hesitated a moment. Clothes? The mirror reflected the same jeans and shirt she’d worn at dinner. Hunter shrugged. Guess she never put on her pajamas. Or at least not in this dream.

  She dashed toward the window and, in one fluid jump, landed on the dragon’s back.

  The window expanded, giving Henry room to spread his wings and surge into the night shadows.

  As wind flung back Hunter’s hair, her heart soared among the stars. Freedom! She pressed her knees into the dragon’s scaly sides and curled her fingers along the edges of his rubber-like wings. Peering downward, she tightened her grip. The landscape whizzed by––tops of trees fused into a carpet of autumnal orange-reds and green-golds silvered by the ghostly light of the moon. Distant lights flickered from town, and the shimmering, glass-like surface of Mystic Lake reflected the smattering glints of stars.

  Dizziness overwhelmed her. Hunter lifted her head and gazed toward the far-off hills. Her equilibrium returned.

  The dragon spiraled downward and landed on a cliff three hundred feet above the waters gushing into Mystic Lake.

  A familiar spot. One Hannah Parker had painted.

  Cryptic River.

  Moon and stars shed patchy points of light along the dark, menacing waters smashing against boulders and fallen logs scattered along the shadowy shore.

  When Hunter’s fingers had touched the canvas hanging on the newspaper’s wall, the water seemed to eddy and flow.

  As the air did now. The whispers returned, whirling upward from the tumbling waters:

  Father’s ring and dragon’s glow,

  Free the soul from far below.

  Henry spread his wings and soared into the sky as the darkness softened with dawn’s first blush.

  * * *

  A voice, muffled and remote, swished in the wind. “Are you all right? Wake up.”

  For a moment, Hunter thought her dragon reared back, and she lost her grip on the blue wings. Helpless, she flailed her arms and cried out.

  “Hey!” a familiar voice protested.

  Hunter blinked and bolted upright.

  In bed.

  Ally rubbed her nose with one hand and whacked Hunter on the shoulder with the other. “I’m not the enemy in whatever nightmare you were having.”

  Light-headed, Hunter stared at her friend, the room, the window where bright morning light dazzled. Her fingers fumbled with the amulet. The dragon was there, as usual.

  Hunter drummed her fingers against her forehead. Had she dreamed the flight through the sky, the whispering voice, the cliff overlooking Cryptic River?

  A dose of blue current zapped her fingertips. Not a dream.

  The mind link with Henry pulsated through Hunter. She had trouble breathing and coughed.


  Ally pounded her on the back. “What is it?”

  “Stop! I’m okay.” More than okay. The idea that the journey with her dragon could possibly be real thrilled through her. “I had quite the adventure last night.”

  She jumped out of bed, grabbed Ally, and hopped up and down.

  Ally grinned. “Yowza! I should have such a dream. What was it about?”

  Maybe that’s all it was. Yet somewhere in her magical center, Hunter knew she’d merged in profound and mysterious ways with the dragon. She could use some time to digest this before she told Ally. “While I slept, I visualized Henry’s next adventure. I better write it down before I forget.” Hunter ran to the desk and fumbled for a pen and notebook.

  “Write quickly. Your sister will be here in an hour. I’ll scramble some eggs while you shower and dress.” Ally headed out the door.

  Hunter cleaned up quickly, threw on the first outfit in the closet, and sprinted downstairs for food. She could eat a horse. She touched the amulet. Or a dragon. She smiled as a spurt of electric current zinged along her fingertips. Can’t take a joke?

  Kat was on time. “We’re meeting Twyla at the Artisan Barn.”

  “Shucks.” Ally snapped her fingers. “I wanted to see her house. Finn told me it’s one-of-a-kind.”

  Kat smiled. “You’ll see it tomorrow. Today she has to pick up supplies for the séance, and I have to replenish the items I used to help Theo’s mom.”

  “Did Clarissa fill you in on Sylvia’s condition?” Hunter asked.

  “Gran overheard the doctors tell Theo and his dad she should make a full recovery. She may even be released today.”

  “Finn found out Reenie Stoner is back home as well,” Ally chimed in.

  “Fortunate women.” Kat’s voice was grim.

  Ally nodded. “Damn lucky.”

  Hunter remembered how she’d rejected Dr. Paul’s pills on two occasions––at the Masquerade Ball and later when men attacked the cottage. At least that medication only made her drowsy. Didn’t doctors take an oath to do no harm? “Hopefully the police will catch Dr. Fleming soon. Before he tries to poison anyone else.” Who might be his next victim? “Which reminds me. We have to stop at the police station.”

  Ally gave a lopsided grin. “To check on Logan?”

  Warmth flooded Hunter’s cheeks. “They have a ring I need to claim.”

  CHAPTER 38

  L OGAN CHUGGED THE UGLY coldness of the dregs in his coffee cup. A lot of godawful sludge lately. Yet he kept drinking it anyway. He glanced at the large clock on the wall near the sergeant’s desk. Only ten. The day dragged as he constantly touched base with his men and other law enforcement agencies about the hunt for Paul Fleming.

  Where had the man gone? Lou had checked Fleming’s financials and found his bank account pretty much drained. No money. Who would help him without being paid? So where could he be hiding? Logan checked his top drawer for a bottle of aspirin.

  Chief Stoner called to check on the investigation. “Caught that piece of scum yet?”

  “Still looking.” Logan pushed the words between tight lips.

  An iciness shivered through the phone line. “Details, man,” Stoner demanded.

  Logan loosened his jaw to speak more easily. “We have a current picture circulating, chief. And we have his car. No rentals recorded for the past week, no stolen vehicles, so we believe he’s without transportation.”

  “Bus? Train? Even a taxi?”

  “No sign of him. Although we’ve had a rash of false sightings.” At least those had died down a bit.

  “Where’d you find his car?”

  “At the Spirit Winds Casino.” Logan held up his empty mug as the sergeant deposited paperwork on the desk. “But Fleming hasn’t been seen there since last Thursday. With your wife.” Logan couldn’t resist that last touch. “How’s Reenie doing?”

  “She’s here resting. I’d come into headquarters, but I can’t leave her alone.” Stoner’s voice hardened. “Not with Fleming still a fugitive.”

  “I could have a patrolman stand guard.”

  “I can handle the garbage who tried to kill my wife.” Stoner barked a humorless laugh. “I’m kinda wishin’ he shows up.”

  Great. Stoner as judge, jury and executioner. “Might be best if you let someone else handle this, Chief.”

  “Back off, detective,” Stoner growled.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Stoner’s voice softened. “Your stepmother okay?”

  “Much better, with Clarissa’s and Riley’s help. She’ll be home from the hospital this afternoon.”

  “Better have that patrolman watch your father’s house.”

  “Got someone on it.” Logan didn’t identify the man as private detective Lou McDonald. Stoner had a thing about Lou supposedly interfering in police business.

  “Let me know if you find Fleming.” Stoner abruptly hung up.

  The sergeant returned with the coffee and refilled Logan’s mug. “Sorry it took so long, detective. I had to make a new pot.”

  “Just in time, Mack.” Logan sipped the hot beverage. “Is Carter working today?”

  “Yes, sir. He’s on patrol.”

  “Have him drive around the chief’s neighborhood.”

  Mack’s eyes widened. “Anything in particular he should be looking for?”

  “Paul Fleming. Make sure Carter has his picture.”

  “Yes, sir.” The sergeant hurried away.

  He was back in a few moments. “Someone to see you. Hunter Sloane.”

  Logan jerked upright and almost knocked over his coffee mug. When he reached the sergeant’s desk, he saw no one. He peered around the corner into the lobby and spotted her staring out the front door windows.

  Golden flecks sparkled in her hair. His fingers ached to tangle in the coppery locks, to trace the smoothness of her creamy skin and wrap his arms around her as he had one night at the cottage.

  How foolish he’d been to act superior, the noble hero riding to her rescue. He’d let the idea of a man protecting a helpless female go to his head. She had the skills to take care of herself.

  What if he lost her over such a stupid mistake? He had to make it right. Desperation gnawed at him. “Hunter.”

  She turned, luminescent blue eyes intensifying to a richer hue.

  Heat sizzled between them as it had before, yet it seemed like forever before he reached her. Did he have lead in his shoes? Perhaps guilt slowed him down. Finally, he was close enough to smell the jasmine scent weaving around her, enticing.

  “Logan.”

  The warmth of her voice eased the coldness that had constricted his insides when she’d tongue-lashed him. Urgency hummed along his veins.

  “Have you forgiven me?” he murmured.

  Hunter’s lips quirked. “We can talk about that later.” She waved a hand toward a car parked at the curb. “Ally and Kat are waiting for me.”

  “You had another reason for stopping by.” Disappointment wove through him.

  “My father’s ring. Are you finished with it?”

  “I believe so. I’ll have the sergeant check with the lab boys.”

  Mack was back at his desk. When Logan mentioned what Hunter wanted, the sergeant picked up the phone and dialed.

  “Sit down.” Logan took the chair next to her. “You have a particular reason for requesting the ring?”

  “You’ll think I’ve lost my mind.”

  “Maybe. But I’ll help you anyway.”

  “I had a strange dream. . .heard strange whisperings.” Hunter took his hand. “But what if it was real?”

  Logan held tight and leaned close. “Tell me.”

  In short bursts, she spoke of a magical ride on a dragon and a murmured chant about her mother’s bones and her father’s ring.

  “Why not?” He smiled into her questioning eyes.

  “You don’t think I’m nuts.”

  “You’re one of the sanest people I know.”

  Mack approached
with a small envelope. “The lab said they’ve tested the ring. Nothing there. We can turn it over to a relative if you sign off on it.”

  Logan glanced through the release and put his signature on the required line.

  The sergeant handed the envelope to Hunter and returned to his desk.

  “What’s next?” Logan asked her.

  Hunter tucked the envelope in her jacket pocket. “Kat, Ally and I are on the way to meet with Twyla Temple.”

  Logan walked her to the front door. He held her back for a moment. “I’m on your side.”

  “No matter what decisions I make?”

  He blew out a held breath. “I trust you. Just as you can depend on me.”

  “I know.” Light flickered in the depths of her eyes. “You’re the only one I’ve told about last night’s dragon flight.”

  CHAPTER 39

  T HE LARGE WHITE BUILDING enchanted Hunter. On the front, below the Artisan Barn sign, a giant image of a winged horse flew along the tops of painted clouds, reminding her of the adventure on her sapphire dragon in the early morning hours. Along the side, mermaids and watery monsters swam together through make-believe waters.

  The interior consisted of a series of stalls converted into individual cubicles for artists and craftsmen, Kat explained. She pointed to the first stall on the left. “That’s Ben West’s booth.”

  Ally tried to enter, but the wooden door didn’t budge. “He’s not here?”

  “Picking up Sylvia from the hospital and taking her home,” Kat said. “Clarissa plans to stop by after lunch to make sure she’s recovering okay.”

  Hunter wanted to check out other artists’ offerings––unique charms and crystals in one, wands and other magical instruments in another, dreamcatchers. . . . .They became a blur as Kat hurried them toward the back of the building.

  Ally fanned her face with her hand. “Whew! Warm back here.”

  “Uncle Gabriel’s hot shop heats up the place,” Kat explained. “He works with molten glass.”