“There are other portals,” Lucas said with determination. “Can you give me the coordinates of the opening on the other side?”
“Of course,” Owain said, “but what are you planning to do?”
“Get back to Shevington and find another way to reach Jinx’s brother,” he said. “That is if you’re up for the plan, Jinx?”
Up for the plan? I only had one question. What were we waiting for?
23
Wednesday morning Chase stood at the front window of his small apartment staring across the square at the pizzeria. Not hearing from Pete after leaving multiple messages bothered him. The fact that Jinx was still in Shevington with Lucas Grayson bothered him even more. True, they left late the day before, and there was the time difference . . .
From behind him, the sound of something solid hitting the floor accompanied by a splashing noise broke Chase’s reverie. Turning, he found Festus sitting placidly on the breakfast table. On the floor in front of him, an overturned glass and a spreading pool of orange juice explained the noise.
With a colorful exclamation, Chase dove for a roll of paper towels to halt the spill before it reached the carpet. “For God’s sake, Dad,” he said. “Why did you do that?”
Lifting one paw and examining the state of his claws, Festus said, “Waking you up, boy. I finished the bacon and eggs on your plate. Did you not think to make a proper breakfast for your poor old father?”
“Right,” Chase muttered, throwing the soggy paper towels in the trash and taking a plate out of the oven, “spare me already. I kept yours warm. You could have just asked.”
Festus chuckled. “Naw,” he said. “This was way more fun. So were you staring out the window thinking about Jinx being up in Shevington with Lucas?”
“For your information,” Chase said, “I was thinking about Pete. I left him three messages last night. He didn’t call me back, and he’s not outside sweeping the sidewalk like usual. I haven’t known him to miss a morning since he bought the place.”
“Then get your butt over there and check on him,” Festus said. “You planning on pouring my coffee, or do I have to turn the pot over, too?”
Grumbling, Chase fixed a bowl of coffee and cream. When he put the dish down in front of his father, he said, “You know, there’s nothing keeping you from shifting and fixing your own breakfast.”
Festus looked up, licking a stray bit of scrambled egg off his whiskers. “You want me wandering around the apartment buck nekkid?” he asked. “Because I’ll be happy to do that.”
Chase held his hands up in surrender. “Fine. You win. I’ll do the cooking.”
“That’s what I thought,” Festus said, lapping at his coffee. Between slurps, he asked, “Didn’t Pete give you a key to his place?”
“He did,” Chase said thoughtfully.
“Keys are meant to be used,” Festus observed. “So use it.”
Draining the last of the coffee in his cup, Chase said, “I think I will. Can you please not make any more messes while I’m gone?”
“No promises,” Festus replied, licking the butter off his toast. “You know I get bored easily.”
Groaning inwardly, Chase went downstairs and let himself out the front door, then locked it again. At the far end of the block, George lifted one hand off the broom he was using and waved. Chase returned the gesture, glancing at his watch — 7:00.
He stepped off the curb and crossed to the opposite corner, striding rapidly past the closed stores as he approached the Stone Hearth. With every step, his sense of foreboding seemed to grow.
Finding the pizzeria locked up tight, Chase cupped his hand and looked through the window. At first, he didn’t think anything was out of the ordinary until he saw one sneaker-clad foot protruding from the base of the counter. His heart pounding, Chase rummaged in his pocket and found the key, still attached to the paper tag from the hardware store where Pete had it cut.
The unused key fit stiffly. Chase had to fiddle with the mechanism, being careful not to break the stubborn metal off in the lock. Finally, a solid click rewarded his efforts. Stepping quickly into the shadowed interior, he called out, “Pete? Pete, you okay, man?”
No answer. Feeling sick, Chase slowly approached the protruding foot, stepping cautiously to the side and looking around the corner. Pete lay on his back, open, cloudy eyes staring at the ceiling. The gray pallor of the man’s face told Chase all he needed to know, but he still knelt down and laid his fingers against the icy skin to feel for a pulse. Nothing.
Sitting back on his heels, Chase said in a choked voice, “Aw, Pete. Damn it. Why didn’t you call someone?”
As he stared at the corpse, fighting back tears, something brushed against Chase’s cheek. Startled, he wheeled around, putting down a knee to steady himself. But instead of confronting the intruder he expected, Chase saw nothing but empty air. Or did he? Squinting, he stared into the space, letting his eyes go slightly out of focus. Had something there moved?
After several seconds, Chase shook his head. “Come on, McGregor,” he muttered, “man up. Quit jumping at shadows. It’s not like you’ve never seen a dead body before.”
Taking out his phone, he started to call the Sheriff’s Office and then stopped. This might be the only chance he would have to search for evidence to clear Pete’s good name with Jinx and the others. The poor guy wouldn’t be any more or less dead in half an hour.
Leaving the body, Chase let himself in the living quarters at the back of the building. What he found there puzzled him. A stack of freshly folded laundry sat on top of the dryer. The dishes in the drying board were all scrubbed clean. A partially completed model of a tall ship stood in the center of a work table in the bedroom amid a litter of tiny, precise tools. The bed was even made.
All perfectly normal, but wasn’t Pete supposed to have been sick for the last few days? Chase would have expected to find evidence of that — open bottles of Pepto, pillows, and blankets on the couch, the remains of bland meals. The refrigerator contained a half-eaten pizza supreme with jalapenos. Definitely not stomach bug comfort food.
And then there was the unease Chase couldn’t shake. He could swear someone or some thing was watching him. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but even apart from the body lying in the front room, something about the place just wasn’t right.
Still, he saw nothing to tie Pete to Malcolm Ferguson, Irenaeus Chesterfield, or the Strigoi Sisters. It was time to involve the authorities.
Chase went back to the dining room to make the call, sitting quietly with Pete while he waited for Sheriff Johnson to arrive. When the big man let himself in the front door, he got straight to business. “Again with the dead bodies, McGregor? Where is he?”
“Behind the counter, John,” Chase said. “I didn’t touch anything.”
The Sheriff walked back and looked at the corpse. “Not a mark on him I can see,” Johnson said. “You say he’d been sick?”
“We ordered pizzas yesterday,” Chase said. “Jinx’s Dad picked up the food. He told us Pete looked awful. When Jeff asked if he was okay, Pete said he ate something at the carnival that made him sick and just couldn’t get over it.”
Shoving his hat back on his head, Johnson said, “You ever had food poisoning?”
“No,” Chase said, “never had the pleasure.”
“I have,” Johnson said. “Damned stuff will make you want to die, I just never thought about anybody actually dying from it. We’ll have the coroner take a look at the body, but nothing I see makes me think this was a crime.”
“Me either,” Chase said, “but it’s a damned shame. Pete was younger than me.”
Johnson shook his head. “Sure is,” he said, sounding as if he wanted to cry. “I am going to miss that man’s thick crust pepperoni.”
Within an hour, the news of Pete’s death was all over town. Hypochondriacs immediately flooded the local doctor’s office, terrified that they, too, had eaten mysteriously fatal festival food.
A
t noon, Irma charged into the Witch’s Brew, beckoning furiously for Tori to join her. “I have to talk to Jinx right this minute,” the woman said breathlessly. “We could have an epidemic and a liability issue on our hands.”
Tori glanced at Mindy. “You got this?” she asked.
“Sure thing,” Mindy said, adding, “and good luck.” The girl was clearly relieved she wasn’t going to be the one dealing with the agitated old lady.
Tori joined Irma just beyond the seating area in the espresso bar, hopefully out of hearing range of the paying customers who were now far more interested in potential scandal than their lattes.
“What do you mean a liability issue?” Tori said, purposefully speaking quietly to get Irma to do the same. Thankfully, it worked.
“Pete got food poisoning at the Halloween carnival,” Irma whispered. “What if his people up and decide the committee murdered him by accident?”
Struggling to keep a straight face, Tori said, “I think ‘murder by accident’ is called manslaughter, and we have absolutely no idea what Pete ate, when he ate it, or if that’s what really killed him. The sheriff told Chase the coroner has to have a look at the body.”
“That won’t happen until sometime tomorrow,” Irma said. “There’s a line all the way out the door over at doc’s. Living patients pay him more than dead ones. People are scared to death we’ve got a botulism outbreak in town.”
Tori drew in a long breath and willed herself to be patient. “Irma, honey, I worked in a cafe for more than ten years. Tom made us take health classes from the state every year. If anybody in town had botulism, the symptoms would show up in 18-36 hours. This is Wednesday. The carnival was Saturday night. Is anybody else actually sick?”
Irma paused, counting on her fingers, and seemed to relax as the numbers added up. “Well, no,” she admitted, “but diseases are sneaky. I really need to talk to Jinx right this minute.”
“I’m sorry,” Tori said, “but she’s not here.”
All the color drained from Irma’s cheeks. “Oh, Lord,” she said, “she’s upstairs dying of the botulism, isn’t she?”
“No, she is not,” Tori assured her. “Jinx had to run over to Cotterville on family business. She’ll be back later, and I’ll have her call you, I promise.”
Irma hadn’t even reached the front door when a voice beside Tori said softly, “Mistress Tori, the red-haired vampire wishes to speak with you.”
Making a show of straightening a display of coffee cups, Tori said, “You can call her Greer, you know.”
“Not until she gives me permission, Mistress,” the brownie whispered. “I am afraid of vampires.”
Tori had to admit that his feelings weren’t completely unfounded, but they’d have to discuss that later. “Thank you, Darby,” she said. “Tell her I’ll be right down.”
Tori finished fidgeting with the inventory for appearance’s sake, and then went into the storeroom where her mother and Kelly were unpacking a new shipment of essential oils.
“Hey,” she said. “Either one of you up for creating a diversion? Greer wants to talk to me down in the lair and I don’t know how long I’ll be. I don’t want Mindy asking questions.”
Kelly looked up from the packing sheet in her hand. “We have to come up with a plausible reason to come and go in the basement and keep Mindy from going down there.”
“I know, I know,” Tori groaned. “I wasn’t thinking about lair logistics when I suggested we hire her, and you have to admit, she pulls an amazing espresso shot.”
“She does,” Gemma agreed, “when she’s not babbling about people’s auras. Apparently I am getting back to my usual magenta self.”
Without cracking a smile, Tori said, “Now see, I would have pegged you for aubergine.”
“Or maroon,” Kelly said, studying her friend closely. “With maybe a little burnt orange around the ears.”
“That will be enough out of both of you,” Gemma grumbled, reaching for her purse and keys. “I need to go to Wally World for cleaning goods, so I’ll take the Junior Ghosthunter with me. What does Greer want to talk to you about?”
“Beats me,” Tori said. “I know Chase was going to go down to the lair to tell everyone about Pete. I’ve been dealing with Irma who is hysterical about an epidemic of Sneaky Botulism.”
The Moms exchanged a look. “Excuse me?” Kelly said. “What is Sneaky Botulism?”
“Probably a made-up mom disease like that thing you used to threaten us with when we were kids,” Tori said. “Remember?”
Gemma made a dismissive sound. “Ha! Miss Smarty Pants,” she said, “that just shows how much you don’t know. The Itch is real. Our mothers threatened us with it and their mothers before them.”
“Right,” Tori deadpanned, “generational lying, ‘cause that makes it all okay.’ Just like I’m supposed to believe eating raw cookie dough will give me worms.”
Kelly giggled. “That one was a lie,” she admitted, “but only because we wanted the cookie dough for ourselves.”
Tori shook her head. “Shameful. The both of you. Just shameful. You’d take cookie dough right out of the mouths of your own children?”
“Dang straight we would,” Gemma said. “Nobody ever said I was bucking for Mother of the Year. When it comes to chocolate chip, it’s every woman for herself.”
Turning to leave the room, Tori paused at the threshold. “Uh, Mom, they sell cookie dough at Wally World, don’t they?”
“Already way ahead of you on that one,” Gemma said. “I’ll get two rolls. Now go. It’s not nice to keep a vampire waiting.”
Tori grinned. “Don’t be so sure about losing out on that Mother of the Year thing,” she said.
As Gemma bustled past, she gave her daughter a quick peck on the cheek. “Don’t have the trophy engraved yet,” she said. “I haven’t decided if Kell and I are going to share or not.”
Tori waited until Gemma and Mindy were out the back door and Kelly was in charge of the espresso bar to head down to the lair. Gloomy expressions greeted her all around.
“Uh, oh,” she said, “I’m guessing this is not a wake for the dear, departed Pete. What’s going on?”
Greer spoke for the group. “We’ve just received a message from Jinx in Shevington,” she said. “Her brother was working at the merfolk city, and there was an accident.”
Tori paled. “Oh God, he’s not . . . ”
Moira cut in. “Do not assume the worse,” she said. “All we know is that he was sucked through the ocean portal into the human realm. The Valley is caught in the midst of a severe winter storm. Jinx and Lucas cannot reach the portal to return here, so they are going after Connor on their own. Jinx asked that you be the one to break the news to her parents.”
Tori stared at her numbly. “How am I supposed to do that?” she asked.
“Gently, my dear,” Beau said, “gently. If you wish, I will come with you.”
“Yes,” she said, “I think that would be a good idea, but we have to wait until mom gets back from running errands. I’m not about to give Kelly news like this without Mom there.”
When only silence met her words, Tori studied the faces around her. “Okay,” she said, “spill. What else is going on?”
Greer cleared her throat. “We may have a bit of a containment issue on our hands.”
“Meaning?” Tori asked.
“After hearing Chase’s description of finding the dead pizza man,” Greer said, “I believe he may have been killed by the Strigoi Sisters. We must covertly visit the local mortuary tonight so I may examine the body.”
“Covertly visit?” Tori said. “I think that’s called ‘breaking and entering.’ And this is necessary why?”
“If the Strigoi killed him, he will rise again and walk among the living, of course,” Greer answered.
Tori plopped down heavily on the nearest sofa. “Right. Of course, he will,” she said. “Perfect. Just freaking perfect.”
24
Lucas and I eme
rged from the Sea of Qynn in a world turned white. Ten inches of snow fell while we were underwater. As the warm envelope of magic evaporated from my skin, the bitter wind sliced through me making my teeth chatter.
“How are we supposed to get back to Shevington in this?” I asked Lucas, raising my voice to make myself heard above the storm.
Moving to block the worst of the gusts with his body, Lucas leaned down, speaking against my ear. “We use Plan B,” he said.
As I watched, he reached into an interior pocket of his duster and drew out a small bottle literally labeled “Plan B.” Squinting, I saw that the vessel contained a minuscule amount of umber-colored powder.
“What is it?” I asked, moving closer to the shelter of his body.
“Dried baobhan sith blood,” he said. “It will let us take the flight, but I only have enough left for one trip. I have to warn you, I’m not very good at steering. You better hang on.”
Lucas put his free arm around me, and it seemed only natural that mine should encircle his waist. His body was hard with muscle and unbelievably warm.
“Why aren’t you freezing to death?” I asked, leaning into him.
“Elven blood has its advantages,” he chuckled. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’m ever going to be,” I replied.
I saw Lucas uncork the bottle with his thumb. Jerking upward, he covered us with the red powder, which curiously did not blow away with the wind. Instead, the particles expanded, covering us in a slowly spinning cloud. Lucas began to chant. The words of the incantation made the dried blood move faster, almost as if we were caught in a centrifuge.
“Hold on,” Lucas shouted. “Here we go!”
When he told me he wasn’t good at steering, Lucas didn’t come close to preparing me for the maelstrom we entered. Unlike my flights with Greer, I saw nothing because I closed my eyes and prayed we’d just land in one piece. We did, with a bone jarring thud. Thankfully Lucas took most of the impact. Still, we wound up in a tangled heap at the base of the Mother Tree.
Witch on Third (A Jinx Hamilton Mystery Book 6) Page 19
