Enchantress' Secret (Hemstreet Witches Book 1)

by Rain Trueax

  John looked at the material and then intently at the photos. “Deer dancer.”

  “It’s what that is?”

  “A different form, no head on top but the antlers, yeah. Not supposed to be a woman.”

  “It has meaning?”

  “To Yaquis who follow the way, yes—not necessarily good though.”

  “Did you used to follow the way?”

  “When I was a boy. Once I went to ‘nam, I lost belief in the enchanted worlds.”

  “What are they… for those who do believe?”

  “There is the wilderness world, mystical world, flower world, dream world, and the night world-- Tuka Ania where strange things happen. The deer dance is how men grow through understanding-- fully appreciating the wholeness of life. It seems odd the sculpture would be of a woman though. No Yaqui made it.”

  “What does the deer dancer do?” Nick had never heard the old man speak so long.

  “Fights evil and fixes things. It represents good and coyotes or predators represent evil. In the Christmas dance, the dancer escapes. At Easter though, he is killed as a sacrifice. Can’t much get past the Catholic way since the Jesuits.”

  “So evil is the Devil?”

  The old man nodded. “There was bad before but not sure of the name. You know, flowers, like yours, they fight evil too.”

  “So beauty fights it?”

  “Yeah, like your paintings.”

  Nick took a cigarette from the pack and lit it.

  “You back on the devil weed?” John asked with a smirk.

  “For a while. The police came to question me. I am a suspect, I guess.”

  “I wondered when I saw them yesterday.”

  “I don’t have an alibi for the time she was killed. I had argued with her or rather she had with me at the show. I left angry, to avoid saying things I’d regret. When I came back yesterday morning, to straighten things out with her, I learned instead that she had been killed. She was hung on that sculpture.”

  John let out a breath. “I see a reason to smoke.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “Want me to lie for you?” he asked with a smile that told Nick he would.

  “No, best we stick to the truth. Less ways to go wrong. Hey, you’ve been around Tucson a lot of years, haven’t you?”

  John nodded. “Came back after ‘nam and never left again.”

  “You know the Hemstreet family?”

  “Distantly related.”

  “No shit.”

  “It’s distant enough that the money didn’t come down to me.” He chuckled.

  “Until yesterday, I’d only met Maria, then I met another one—Denali.”

  John let out a whistle. “She’s a looker. Not saying the others ain’t beautiful, but Denali stops a man in his tracks.”

  “You old devil you.”

  “Old I may be but not dead.” John chuckled again. “She down there investigating the murder?”

  “It appears Jane’s daughter requested them to look into it.”

  “They are good at what they do.” Again, John grinned in a way that had Nick wondering what that meant.

  “And what is that?” he asked finally as he took another long draw on his cigarette.

  “For you to find out.” John rose. “You need me to lie for you though, just ask.” He left.

  Living across the street from John, since he’d bought his home, Nick had never heard him talk so much. It was the deer dancer that got it all going. Although he had known John was a Yaqui, it hadn’t occurred to him what that meant or that it meant anything.

  In no mood to paint, Nick spent some time trimming flowers and cleaning up the garden. It was a small parcel of earth, comforting for him to work with the soil and plants. Harvey kept him company by grabbing at the stems he cut off. Living the solitary life he did, Nick had come to love the very unferal feral cat and again thought about keeping him in the house, keeping him safe from those who killed black cats since they believed they were bad luck. He couldn’t keep him in the house. Harvey was used to being free.

  With afternoon, Nick went into the kitchen and began making a marinara sauce for spaghetti. He liked cooking, enjoyed using different spices, not following a recipe but finding the ingredients, which most brought out the flavor of each element of the dish. For the first time since he’d come to Tucson, he began to consider the need for friends. It would be nice to have someone for dinner. Maybe someone in his bed at night. He knew where that was going and forced his mind back to stirring the sauce.

  ><><

  Sunday Denali slept late, still not over the jet lag. She dressed in shorts and a tank top, fixed a piece of toast for what was almost lunchtime, made some coffee and looked over the lists of names. She was getting nowhere. The knock at the door had the number of taps to tell her who it was.

  “I have a treat,” Devi said as she held out a sack, which Denali knew would contain fresh baked croissants, which Celia, her mother’s all around helper, was excellent at making.

  “You don’t work today?” she asked as she poured her sister coffee.

  “Not until one. We thought you might meet us at Cushing Street last night.”

  “I was tired.”

  “Tragic about Jane, wasn’t it.”

  “Did you know her?”

  “Not well. She was kind of hard to know. She came by now and again. Well, she had until the last year.”

  “Did the police question Mom?”

  “Jace was by, of course not for questioning.” She grinned.

  “Is she seeing him?”

  “Not as much as he’d like.” Devi took a bite of her croissant.

  “I met him at the gallery. He seems nice enough.”

  “I guess. It’d be nice if she did get interested in someone, take the pressure off us to get married.” Devi laughed.

  “Not like you listen, little sister. Besides, you can’t marry before the rest of us. Wouldn’t that be bad luck?”

  “Like black cats?” Devi suggested.

  Denali thought of her mother’s two beautiful black cats, both getting on in years. “I guess if we worried about luck.”

  “We don’t. Witches, at least some, know Minka and Midas are good luck anyway.”

  “If you say so. Actually, I wish I was here enough to have a cat or a dog. I miss living with pets.” They were also good at alerting her to spirit presences and often what kind. She had wasted time talking to one last night. Working on the East Coast for six months should have kept her senses alert to the other side, but she’d used her detective skills more than her witchcraft. Solving Jane’s murder would require both.

  “So stop taking the long distance jobs. There is enough work here for all of us especially since Elke and Torre opened their boutique, Mellow Yellow.”

  “It is doing well?”

  “Elke has a feel for clothing. She does the buying. Torre handles the business end. I think it’s doing very well. They have a good location.”

  “Is Mom taking less investigative cases?”

  “Well, there has been some competition from Schaeffers. They’re not as good, but they do have connections. I think there is enough work for us here without you heading off to Boston to help Mom’s friend get her agency off the ground.”

  “I don’t know how much help I was. I enjoyed visiting Salem again.” She grinned as she poured more coffee.

  “It depresses me since ordinary people got killed for being witches when they weren’t.”

  “It has that aspect. A lot oriented to tourism now. When back East, I took a tour about witches.”

  Devi giggled. “I shouldn’t laugh but…”

  “It’s not really funny when a witch goes bad.”

  “Was that what Mom’s friend, Mrs. Jones, needed? Help from a witch gone bad?”

  “No witches. Just a lot of nasty people.”

  “She thought there were.”

  “She was lonely and wanted to think there were.”

&
nbsp; “She didn’t know you were a witch or that Mom is?”

  “No need for her to know. I helped her get her investigative work off the ground. With a few satisfied customers, she will be getting more. She’s, at least temporarily, lost interest in witches.” She grinned.

  “I guess it’s for the best—that people not believe in us.” Devi’s smile was unreadable for Denali, which was strange. “For us anyway.”

  “Most don’t.” Denali related to her what had happened at the gallery and then her possible investigative partnership with Nick Beringer.

  “He thought it was a Taser?”

  “It was the only logical possibility for a man who does not believe in the supernatural. I should have hit him harder with the plasma bolt. I didn’t realize it would take so much to put a big man down… and I’ve been out of practice.”

  “I’ve never been good at them… or wanted to be for that matter. Mostly what I do these days is keep shop or take some case where a husband wants to know if his wife is cheating on him. Boring.”

  “You haven’t been out to the ranch?” Denali had been tempted to get out there as soon as she got off the plane. She needed a ride, wanted to get on Maret’s back and have her run like the wind. It would be a good place also to practice without disturbing the neighbors as it was out Tanque Verde way, had been in the family since 1899 and still gave her great joy every time she was there.

  “Not often enough. I need to go for a ride.”

  “Maybe we could talk Elke and Torre into joining us. It would be like old times.”

  “And Mom?”

  “If she wanted to. Is Luke still the foreman?”

  “He runs it along with his own place which mostly is into breeding horses. Golly, Denali. You haven’t been gone that long.”

  “I guess I have been distracted. It was even before Boston and Salem. Remember how I went to Africa on a photo safari.”

  “I forgot about that. Any new paintings?”

  “Nothing worth showing anyone.”

  Devi smiled. “So you really invited Nick back here?”

  She nodded. “Just to discuss this situation. Although, we had lunch yesterday.”

  Devi raised her eyebrows. “Are you interested in him?”

  “I don’t know. He’s certainly handsome enough. Have you seen him?”

  “Just the time Mom invited him to the house to meet a few friends, who she thought might be interested in buying some of his work. He looks like a Greek god without a doubt.”

  “You think Mom was interested in him for more than paintings.”

  “I doubt it. I think she’s still in love with Dad. It’s as if he’s never left sometimes for how she talks about him. Besides, she’s too busy now plotting how to get us married to worry about herself.”

  Denali nodded. “Well, she is taken by his paintings.”

  “What did he think of yours?”

  “I didn’t show him any. He’d have probably thought they looked like a kindergarten effort. Did you know he’s had no lessons, no training?”

  “Is that significant?”

  “I just thought of all the lessons I’ve taken and it’s done me zero good. He has that natural looseness.”

  “So ask him for lessons.” Devi winked. “You could do with some loosening up.”

  Denali swatted her shoulder. “Thanks so much, little sister. It’s not like you have an active love life. Or did I miss out on that too?”

  “You might’ve. Wasn’t it Paris before the safari?”

  “I’ve been traveling, yes.”

  “Perhaps you will have reason to stick around for a while.”

  “I doubt Nick Beringer will provide that. Not sure I’d want him to. He’s got something about him making me think he’d be a difficult man, a lot of secrets.”

  “Like you don’t have a few of your own,” Devi teased.

  “Just one.” She smiled.

  “A big one.”

  “It could be for someone like Nick.”

  “Maybe you’ll find out.”

  “Maybe I will… or not.”

  When Devi had gone, Denali went into the room she used as a studio and office. The paintings were stacked everywhere. That she hadn’t painted for six months had taken care of any chance he’d have recognized the scent of turpentine or linseed. She hadn’t wanted him to see her work and be as derogatory as Jane Elm had been. Since that day, she’d avoided showing her painting to anyone other than her sisters and mostly her little sister.

  Her paintings were mostly of women or men and didn’t have vibrant palette knife work that had made Nick’s stand out with such energy. Maybe she should try a palette knife. Likely her problem wasn’t in the tool she used.

  She thought then of Devi living at home with their mother. She wondered if she wanted to move out as the other three had done. It wasn’t as if their mother was so old that she needed someone there to take care of her.

  Her own desire to escape had begun with their father’s death when she was a teen-ager. Strangely, she had blamed herself in not preventing it. Crazy thinking. She felt convinced, however, that his death had not been the accident the police had decided. Who would have had a motive to kill Marcus Hemstreet? She shivered but had no answers.

  Chapter Five

  Downtown Tucson

  Monday

  Walking into her sisters’ boutique, Denali was impressed by the Mellow Yellow displays, the layout, the colorful garments, with soft and yet sufficient lighting. There were women of assorted ages looking through the racks with one coming out from the dressing rooms and twirling around in a red glittery dress.

  Elke waved to her and pointed to a door. In the backroom, Torre was at a desk and computer but rose to give Denali a hug. “About time you got to us,” she said.

  “I was afraid to come for fear I’d spend all my money. Your clothing line looks impressive.”

  “We try. Tucson ladies like to be up to the latest. It requires buying trips to New York and this year we sent Elke to Paris, just to get a feel for what was coming next.”

  “And what is it?” Not that Denali cared much. She chose unassuming clothing, with earth colors, where she could buy five of each to avoid shopping again for six months.

  “You need the long, off one shoulder dress. I can see it on you now. It’s turquoise, very clean lines, or there is this little black dress… even better would be the one with strategic cutouts.”

  “I can see you make a great salesperson,” Denali said putting up her hands to get her to stop. “I bet none of it is cheap.”

  “Maybe not, but good cloth lasts forever.”

  “Until the styles changed,” she reminded her.

  Torre giggled. “The Greek goddess dress would always be in style with you wearing it.”

  “Better on you.” When it came to hair genes, her sisters had all the luck in Denali’s view. Their dark hair, from browns to blacks, was so striking. Why did she have to be the lone blonde? Everything would have looked better on her if she had just been a brunette. Another benefit would be not standing out in a crowd when it was better for her to blend in. Something about blonde hair seemed to draw gazes—inconvenient when one was investigating something.

  “I heard you were at Jane’s gallery. Learn anything?”

  “No.” She told Torre about her nighttime visitor. “I am still trying to figure out the reason behind it.”

  Elke came in and hugged Denali. “You left the store unguarded,” Torre protested.

  “The bell will let us know if anyone enters. You think I wanted to not hear about the murder.” Elke gave her sister a remonstrative look.

  “There isn’t anything I know—at least more than you got from the paper or Mom,” Denali said nodding when Elke offered her a Perrier.

  “Tell her about your nighttime visitor,” Torre said, so Denali had to repeat it.

  “I really was fooled.”

  “With things as they stand, you took a risk with not putting up a s
hield. This was a spiritual murder,” Elke said.

  “You believe that?”

  “Without a doubt. Putting her on the shaman was a word to us.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “No doubt at all. You’ve been away too long.”

  “Who is it then?”

  “If I knew, I’d go after him.”

  “You believe it’s a him?”

  “That’s what my sources said.”

  “Can we have dinner tonight?”

  Elke grinned. “Maybe, depending on how long Mom’s thing goes.”

  “Mom’s thing?”

  “Don’t you check your test messages?”

  “To be honest—no more than I have to, which has been maybe once a week.” She laughed.

  “A big meal at one. We are all to be there. Celia is fixing a special meal in honor of you being home but even more so we can talk in private.”

  Denali smiled. “Private? Do you keep your spirit buds out too?”

  “Of course. I block. You are not practicing enough. I don’t let them into the shop at all—our side or theirs.”

  The bell rang to indicate a customer had entered. “I better go,” Elke said.

  “Show me that dress,” Denali said, surprised at herself for wanting it and annoyed at knowing why she did. When they entered the shop, Denali immediately knew something was wrong with the young woman who had entered. Her eyes were glazed. She talked nonstop, with none of the words making sense. Elke was watching her with a look saying she recognized trouble.

  “She’s possessed,” Torre whispered, as if she hadn’t known. She hadn’t been gone that long.

  “Drugs or…”

  At that moment, the girl lunged at Elke, stopped by a burst of energy that thrust her backward but didn’t stop her. As if she’d felt none of the fireballs, she turned to Torre and Denali with an unearthly smile. She ran toward them, again stopped, this time by Denali’s plasma bolt. The three sisters closed in on her, keeping her frozen with constant energy pulses, but it was obvious from her wild-eyed expression-- at any opportunity, she would be on them again. Her nails were long, and her hands in a predatory position.