by P. R. Frost
Gollum and I looked mostly solid, and yet there was a subtle difference, an aftershadow of light every time we shifted or moved a hand.
“If I thought the bitch had a snowball’s chance in hell of succeeding with her demon rebellion against the Powers That Be, I’d give her the lock codes to three black market weapons warehouses,” Darren nearly shouted.
“But then you’d have to kill her.” King Scazzy smiled. He looked so much like a harmless garden gnome the hairs on my nape stood at attention in alarm. He was his most dangerous when he appeared most innocent. “Like you killed Dillwyn when he tried to reveal to the archivist your plans to build a homeland for the Kajiri.”
What? I nearly shouted. When? How? I needed to know more.
Gollum held me back from leaving the circle. Scrap took on an ominous shade of red.
“Damn straight I will kill her if I have to. When my people finally get their homeland, they are going to look to me as their leader, not some flighty teenager spaced out on faery mushrooms. I cut her loose from your prison for a reason, and that wasn’t it.”
Scazzy chuckled. “Don’t underestimate that vacant look in her eyes. She’s cunning and smart.”
“Idiots are cunning. And she’s an idiot, and an addict, incapable of stringing two coherent thoughts together. She’s fulfilled her purpose.” Darren shifted so that his back was fully to me.
“What do you plan to do with the Sanctuary, Estevez? ” Scazzy asked.
Sanctuary? He’d referred to my house as a sanctuary once before.
“Would you believe me if I said I merely want to stay out of sight of the Powers That Be for a while? This land is neutral, has been since time out of mind.”
“Which is why it is dangerous in the hands of an active Warrior of the Celestial Blade. She is not neutral.” Scazzy pasted a fake smile on his face.
“So neutral that it seems only natural a new portal will open here eventually.”
“With a little help from you, the legal owner, once you maneuver your name onto the deed.”
That wasn’t about to happen, even if he murdered me. The house went to charity, along with my royalties if I died.
I desperately wanted Darren to turn around so I could see his eyes, know what he was really thinking. Face the murderer of my husband. The man who had used my mother so mercilessly.
"WindScribe gets an idea in her head and she can’t think any further.” Darren heaved a sigh. “Passionate and single-minded. She uses sex as a drug and as a weapon. Very dangerous combinations. I need her to start a rebellion when and where I dictate. Won’t help me much if she does it in a place so far away from my portal we can’t use it.”
“Then you’ll give her back to me for safekeeping when you are done with her.” Scazzy’s gaze peered into every shadow in the dark room. I got the feeling he saw in the dark as well as in the light. Maybe better, considering Gollum wanted me to fight him at noon.
“You can have the brat now as far as I’m concerned. You just have to convince my new stepdaughter to let her go.”
“If I take WindScribe before the honorably scheduled battle, will you back me with the Powers That Be?”
Darren paused. His neck and jaw muscles tensed.
“If you are fully committed to me in this. We eliminate the Powers That Be, and you are free of your job as prison warden. I want WindScribe out of the way, so I can get on with my own plans for Tess. Killing her at the moment would raise too many questions and bring too much official attention to me and my plans.”
“You don’t think I can take Tess Noncoiré out?” Scazzy cocked one bushy eyebrow.
Darren snorted in derision. “I’ve heard what she did to an entire clan of Sasquatch. I’m placing my bets on Tess. But I’ll hand over the girl after Tess has it out with you. You can still honor your promise,” he snorted in derision.
“I’d watch my back if I were you,” King Scazzy said quietly. His gaze fixed on the door to the kitchenette.
I swung my head in that direction, deathly afraid I’d see my mother there. Afraid that she’d heard this entire bizarre conversation.
The doorway was empty. But I heard a scratching sound, like someone moving from the back door in the kitchenette through the narrow passage.
I needed to break free of the circle, go see who approached, and if it was my mother; stop her from murdering her husband.
“Don’t pull that trick on me, Your Majesty,” Darren sneered. “You won’t slip away from me so easily. I wasn’t born yesterday.” Darren kept his gaze fixed on the Orculli troll rather than heed his warning.
“I mean it, D. Look behind you.” King Scazzy looked oh so smug. He knew what was about to happen and wasn’t going to do more than the minimum to prevent it.
He had his own agenda. From the half grin on his face, I surmised that he was on an information-gathering mission rather than agreeing with Darren Estevez and his grand schemes.
“Why should I look? So you can run away from my summons the moment I take my eyes off of you?”
King Scazzy heaved a sigh.
WindScribe, wearing one of my pink flannel night-gowns, slipped silently into the room on bare feet. She held the German short sword in front of her in a classic en garde, as if she knew exactly how to wield the weapon.
I think I squeaked.
King Scazzy peered directly at me with a puzzled frown. Then he turned back to Darren. “Honor compels me to warn you once more to turn around and watch your back, D.”
Darren finally looked over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he turned to fully face WindScribe. “Put that down, little girl. Before you hurt yourself.”
Silent, determined, and lethal, WindScribe advanced upon Darren.
He batted at the blade with his hand. It had no edge, but a wicked point. She performed a perfect circular parry and riposted beneath his guard. She thrust the sword into his gut, pushed upward and twisted in an assassin’s expert move.
I almost heard his heart burst as the sword tip penetrated.
A gush of bloody air escaped his mouth. Then he just . . . crumpled.
Scazzy grabbed his red cap from the dying hand and popped out.
WindScribe smiled. “That will teach you to cross me, Darren Estevez. I will be queen of the otherworlds. I will create and control the new portal. No one will ever hurt me again.” She left by the front door, closing it quietly behind her, the sword still dripping.
I gasped. Hot bile climbed up my throat.
Gollum pulled me against his side, burying his face in my hair.
Before I could react, Scrap whisked us away.
The world tilted again. Air rushed around us. I felt a chill. I had a vague impression of a vast open space. And something large, blue, and menacing advancing toward us.
Just passing through, guys, Scrap called.
Then with a thump and a give in my knees I was back in my cottage staring at the chalk outline of where Darren had died the day before.
A death I had just witnessed.
Chapter 44
"IT DIDN’T WORK,” MoonFeather sighed, opening her eyes.
Gollum expertly brushed an opening in the chalk circle with his toe. “Oh, but it did,” he said, stepping free of the dubious magical protection.
“But . . .”
I knew I could do it! Scrap chortled and preened. He glowed bright green with satisfaction. An undertone of pink on his skin told me we’d come close to a demon in the chat room between now and then.
“You never left!” MoonFeather protested.
Between one eye blink and the next. Scrap sounded surprised at his expertise in a precise takeoff and landing. He flitted about the cottage living room, hesitating over the places where King Scazzy, Darren, and WindScribe had stood.
“Someone moved the body,” I breathed. The outline was slightly to the left of where I’d watched Darren crumple. “He landed on his side. We found him on his back.”
“Are you certain?” Gollum
asked. He planted his big feet within the chalk outline. “King Scazzamurieddu stood just there.” He pointed to the spot beneath the window. “So Darren must have been here.”
“Turn on the chair lamp,” I instructed. I couldn’t bring myself to step outside the protection of MoonFeather’s magic circle. Something menacing still lingered in the room. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I couldn’t seem to banish the image of Darren’s bleeding body on the floor; the wet slurp of the sword piercing his heart; WindScribe’s cold smile.
Maybe it was knowing that I was now a target for the Powers That Be because of my house.
What had Gollum said last night? I needed to voluntarily renounce Scrap and the Sisterhood, become a neutral person again.
Maybe it was Scazzy’s accusation that Darren had killed my husband.
Dill, my heart screamed. You didn’t have to die!
I turned cold and trembled from deep in my gut.
Gollum leaned over and flicked on the lamp. The sunshine flooding through the window masked the effect I sought.
“If you look closely, you can see the circle of light cast by the lamp. Darren stood inside that circle,” I said, not looking at Gollum. Not daring to see the pain in his eyes.
Gollum peered closely at the carpet and took one long step to his right. “Good observation. But who moved the body?”
I grew colder still. “Mom. When she discovered the body. She turned him over to see why he didn’t move. Maybe to see if he was still breathing.”
“Judging from the amount of blood, he stayed alive for quite a while. You stop bleeding when the heart stops pumping,” Gollum said. He had on his professor face, delivering facts in a lecture. No emotion. No horror.
“How? She stabbed him in the heart. I heard it!” No wonder Mom had come unhinged. I had when Dill died in my arms.
You didn’t have to die, my heart kept screaming.
“She who?” MoonFeather asked. She wore a resigned look, as if she knew, but didn’t want to admit it.
“Darren was part demon. Maybe his heart had an extra chamber or something,” Gollum posited, ignoring my aunt.
“Would the autopsy show that?” I asked.
"She who?” MoonFeather demanded.
"WindScribe,” I said quietly. “She came in the back door through the kitchen and killed him in cold blood.”
MoonFeather sighed in relief.
“You didn’t think that Mom . . .”
“I’m afraid I did, my dear.” She straightened her slumping spine and settled her shoulders. “So how do we prove it?”
“I’m not sure. But I’ve got to call Allie.” I finally gathered my courage and stepped outside the circle. I looked briefly at the telephone on the lamp table. No, I wanted out of this charnel house and back into the comfort of my own home. I also needed some time alone to think about WindScribe’s final statement.
I will be queen of the otherworlds. Worlds. Plural. A new portal here at the house. And Darren had said something about providing her with the lock codes to black market weapons warehouses. I had to stop the bitch before she led an army of fully armed Midori demons across all the dimensions right through my parlor.
And then I needed a long talk with Scrap about Dill.
“Witnesses,” I muttered as I prowled my office. The black screen of the powered-down computer stared at me accusingly. If I wasn’t going to write, I should be on vacation in Mexico soaking up sun and color and inspiration, not obsessing about the murder of my mother’s husband.
The marriage only lasted thirty-six hours. Or less, for Goddess’ sake!
Since my brain wasn’t working at the moment, I took care of a little bookkeeping. Paying the bill for the storage of the Kynthia brooch gave me pause. On a whim I called the jewelry store in Boston. I needed to know the thing was still there.
“Thank you for returning my call,” the head honcho said when we finally connected.
“Huh?”
“I left a message with a young woman yesterday afternoon. ”
WindScribe. Just like the flakey brat to forget an important message.
“Is everything all right? No one has stolen my . . . er . . . jewelry?”
“Of course not, Ms. Noncoiré. We have never had a single misplaced item.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“I called because a registered package arrived in yesterday’s mail for you in care of us. We took the liberty of opening it. A small, exquisitely cut black diamond, exceedingly rare, beautifully cut, with only a small flaw, arrived by post in an unmarked jeweler’s pouch. The note simply said, ‘For the brooch.’ ”
“For the brooch?” I gulped. Who? What? My mind spun with endless questions.
“I checked, personally. The stone will fit precisely into one, and only one of the empty settings on the brooch. Would you like us to set it for you? The cost is quite modest since you provided the stone.”
“I did? I mean, yes. Please do.”
“I presume the stone carries a significant symbolism for you. Congratulations on the occasion.”
I rang off. A black diamond. What significance?
Of course, Scrap gave me the brooch in honor of defeating the Sasquatch in pitched battle. Could the black diamond be for my battle against the Windago?
If so, what would happen when I’d completed twelve battles and the anonymous donor had filled all the empty spaces on the brooch?
I should live so long.
Back to my current problem. I’d let the metaphysical stuff sort itself out on its own. It seemed to do that with or without my interference.
What was the easiest way to bring reliable witnesses into the situation and not alert WindScribe what I was up to?
“Hello, Cecilia. Mom wants to resume game night tonight,” I told my sister on the phone. “She wants life to get back to normal. And she needs to have the family gathered close around her.” The only way to get the family together without starting a war among us was to put a Trivial Pursuit game on the dining room table between us.
“I’ll call Uncle George and Grandma Maria,” Cecilia volunteered. She didn’t even protest that it was Tuesday night instead of Sunday.
Then I called Dad and insisted he bring Bill, too. With the family lined up, I decided to add a few outsiders. Gollum was a given. He’d be there whether I wanted him or not. And I wanted him. Outsiders who represented the law came next, Allie and her boss Joe Halohan. Mike Gionelli?
No. I didn’t think so. I’d deal with him when I had to. Not before.
That left one more player in the drama. My new stepbrother, now ex-stepbrother. Donovan Estevez.
“What?” he growled into his cell phone.
“How fast can you get back here?” I didn’t bother introducing myself. He’d either recognized my number on caller ID or he’d know my voice. I’d never forget his.
