by Sonya Clark
Chapter 31
We were too late. Martin Holt was dead by the time we found him, a powerful hex still radiating from his prone form on the deck of his houseboat. Ray secured the crime scene while I dispelled the last of the dark energy, grounding it with a handful of herbs I then swept overboard. As soon as other officers arrived I pulled Ray aside to speak privately.
“I kinda forgot something,” I said, feeling stupid. I told him about Mackie’s statement about me not being the only one with power. “I didn’t know if he meant a more traditional kind of power or, you know, my kind. Then with everything that happened I sort of forgot.”
“This is definitely dark magic, though? You can feel it, see it?”
“Yes, and it’s powerful. I don’t know if I could have stopped this even if we’d gotten here in time.”
He rubbed his jaw, looking out over the water. “You think there’s anything here, any kind of evidence that can be traced back to whoever cast the spell? A lab or a spell of yours, either way?”
“I can look but I doubt it. I don’t sense anything. This was done from a distance.”
“How would that work?”
“If whoever did it practices anything like me, they could have had hair or blood of Holt’s. Even a picture will do. The main thing is the will to do it. Killing someone.” I suppressed a shudder. “That takes a lot of will. We’re dealing with someone very powerful and very determined.”
A car door slammed, followed by the mayor’s boisterous voice. “Is it true?” Alan Carver hurried to stand with Ray and me. “Martin Holt’s dead?”
Ray nodded. “Yes, sir. We’re waiting on forensics and an ambulance.”
“What the hell happened? Was he murdered?”
Ray and I exchanged a look. I nodded. Holt might not be the only target. With a queasy look on his face, Ray told the mayor about the death curse I’d sensed.
Alan stared at me, dumbfounded. I could see the leaps his thoughts were taking. “All those people. We met in a public place.” He covered his face with one hand. “Oh dear God, we met in a public place.”
“I can make protective charms for every person who was there. Both for them to wear and extra charms for their homes, their offices. I need some time but I can do it. Protective charms are what I’m best at, Mayor.”
He took my hand. “Do it, please.” He took a breath, steadying himself. “Do you think this is.” He stopped, not wanting to say a name.
I couldn’t blame him, not much wanting to invoke the name of the person I thought responsible either. “Right now I want to get those charms made. We’ll deal with the rest later.”
Alan looked at Ray. “Help her with whatever she needs.” The mayor patted my shoulder and walked over to speak to the sheriff who had just arrived.
I jerked my head toward Ray’s patrol car and we hurried to it. “I need to check my supplies, see what I’ve got. You’re gonna have to round some stuff up for me.”
“You got it.”
We weren’t far from Daniel’s lake house but Ray used the siren anyway, understanding time was very much of the essence here. The house was quiet and dark, Daniel still asleep. I went straight to my room and pulled out the bag full of supplies, laying everything out on the bed. Ray took out a notepad and pen, ready to write down what I needed.
“Red flannel,” I said. “They should have it in the sewing department in Walmart.”
“What else?”
“Some kind of string to close the bags. Not twine, something else.”
“I know what you need. I’ve still got the one you made me.”
I looked over the selection of herbs and roots. “That’s gotta be long since out of juice.”
“I hope not. I carry it on me every day.”
I turned around to look at him. “You serious?”
He dropped the pad and pen on the bed, unbuttoning his uniform shirt enough to pull out the faded red mojo hand, strung on braided embroidery thread for wearing on the person. My mouth fell open and I stepped closer. He held the little bag of protective herbs, roots, and charms up and I reached for it, running my fingers over the soft material.
The flannel was warm from more than his body heat, magic muted but still coursing through it. “There’s still energy here,” I said, amazed. “After so long, how can that be?”
“I don’t know but I’m glad to have it.” Ray covered my hand with his, caressing my skin lightly with a slow back and forth motion of his thumb.
I swallowed, fighting the spread of heat through my body. “I don’t have enough van van oil to bless all the hands I’ll have to make.” My voice sounded small and far away to my own ears.
“What’s in that? Can we make some?” He released me, tucking the old mojo hand back inside his shirt and righting his clothes.
“It takes too long. I can use whiskey in a pinch. In fact, with Stack, it might be a better idea anyway. There’s none left in the house, the way Daniel’s been drinking. I’ll need more.”
Ray added it to the list. Pointing to the ingredients on the bed he said, “What about all that?”
I looked everything over again. There wasn’t enough angelica root, not for as many bags as I’d be making. I’d forgotten to pack incense and I’d used up an entire bundle of white sage blessing Ray’s house. “That nice Wiccan lady you scared, she’s likely to have white sage. Think she’d sell you some?”
“I didn’t scare her too bad. I’ll go see her, see what’s she’s got. You need anything else from her?”
“Ask her if she’s willing to sell anything she’s got that’s used for protective spells. Angelica root especially but I can use anything she’d have.” I started packing away some of the items that wouldn’t be needed. “Ray, I’m gonna need graveyard dirt.”
He tapped the pen on the notepad. “I don’t think they sell that at Walmart.”
“You get the stuff and go talk to the Wiccan. I’ll take care of the other.”
I didn’t need to tell him where I was going. Tenderness filled his blue eyes. For a moment I thought he might reach for me, but he didn’t. “Be careful. Call me if you need me.”
“You be careful too.”
He left. I followed in the SUV. My stomach tightened, churning with acid. I’d been putting this off and the last thing I wanted to do was go for this reason, but I needed the help. The best place I knew to get graveyard dirt for protective purposes was the grave of my mentor, Rozella Kent.
* * *
Afternoon light filled the cemetery, turning it into a postcard rather than a place of the dead. High on a hill next to a small church, no ghosts lingered at this time of day and all the living were at work or home. I didn’t have the luxury of sitting in the car and working up my nerve, so I grabbed my bag and got out. The last time I’d been here was the night before I left Blythe, saying goodbye and collecting a handful of dirt for emergencies. This time I’d need more than a handful.
I may have been short on time but I still picked up a bouquet of flowers, a bright spring arrangement I knew Rozella would have liked. I also brought the standard shiny new dimes to leave as payment for the dirt and a plastic container to hold the soil.
The marker was simple, unobtrusive. The ground was undisturbed. I sank to my knees, ran my hand over the carved words, then the hard ground. Latent magic hid in the blades of grass, the packed dirt and small stones, a blend of nature and traces of her essence left behind in the bones that rested six feet under.
“Magic is everywhere.” Her voice came to me across the years. “In everything and every person. Even people who don’t believe in magic have it in them.”
“That doesn’t make sense. If you don’t believe in it, how can you have it in you? I thought intention was important.”
“Intention is important. Will is important. Using the word magic to describe putting your energy out into the world to accomplish something, that’s not so important. Magic is just a word, and some folks aren’t comfortable with that word.
They’d rather pray, for instance. It’s all the same. Ask and ye shall receive. Put forth effort and get something back. It’s about energy. Energy is magic and energy is everywhere, in everything.”
I broke the ground with a trowel, struggling with the hard packed earth, creating a small short row at the head of the grave just below the marker. Once I had it started good I used my hands, moving clumps of soil into the container. “I ask for your help, Rozella. I ask for your guidance and your strength as I work to protect these people. Help me protect people who might be in danger. Help me protect this town.” I filled the container, snapping on the lid. Dropping in the dimes and smoothing out the dirt, I covered the disturbed area with the flowers. “And if you’ve got any left over, help me protect my own heart.”
The wind sighed and in it I heard the echo of Rozella’s voice. The willow tree nearby moved gently in the breeze, calling to mind the way she would shake her head at me, sometimes in frustration, sometimes in amusement. My hands dirty, I used the backs of my wrists to wipe away tears. I’d been scared to come here for some reason but all I felt was peace and strength and my mentor’s love all around me. Graveyard dirt was a powerful ingredient. Infused with this kind of energy, what I’d collected would be perfect for protective magic.
She’d always told me that was the magic I was best at.
Chapter 32
By shortly after supper time I had all the protective mojo hands made, with Ray and the mayor taking on the task of distributing them. Exhausted and starving but in no mood to cook, I took one look in the fridge and told Daniel to drive me to town.
“I’ll drop you wherever you want, then I’m going to the pool hall,” he said. “I’m meeting some friends there.”
“You’ve got friends you meet at the pool hall?”
“I’ve got friends I meet in all kinds of places. High places, low places, you name it. I’m a friendly guy.” The scent of alcohol oozed from his pores as he passed me on the way to the door.
“On second thought, I think I’ll drive.” I held out my hand for the keys.
His eyes and his aura both blazed hard and bright for a brief moment before he brought himself under control. Unimpressed, I snapped my fingers. The most glorious expression of sheer bitchiness I’d ever seen transformed Daniel’s movie star handsome face into that of a junior high mean girl, but he tossed me the keys so I held back my laughter.
What I couldn’t hold back any longer was my concern about his ever-increasing drinking. As I drove into town he drank straight from a bottle of tequila, the smell making my eyes sting in the tight confines of the vehicle. “You’re burning through a lot of booze these days.”
“My metabolism can handle it.”
“It’s not your metabolism I’m worried about. Are you really that broken up over Shelby or is something else going on?”
He took another drink and played with the radio to avoid the question. I slapped his hand away and snapped off the dial. “Come on, talk to me, Bubba.”
“It just brought up a lot of stuff. Between you and her, a lot of stuff from my past has been in my face the past few years and it’s hard. That’s all. Not really anything worth talking about.”
“Not worth talking about? How can you say that?”
“Because I can’t change any of it. I can’t go back in time and find my son and his mother. Even when I was alive I knew I could never have the life I wanted. Most of the time, I’m okay in the present. I don’t think too much about the future and just live in the here and now. That’s something I got real good at. Most of the time.”
“But not right now?”
“Right now’s a little rough.” He capped the bottle and set it on the floorboard, then took my hand. “Don’t worry. It won’t last. It never does.”
I squeezed his hand then turned the radio back on so we could let the music paper over things we weren’t comfortable talking about. I wanted him to be happy but he was a vampire. Any happiness was likely to be fleeting, considering his lifespan. And as for what waited for him on the other side…I refused to believe in a God that would deny grace to someone with such a kind, loving heart, no matter what he was.
There were no parking spots in front of the pool hall so I let Daniel out at the corner stop sign. From there I made a couple of turns and circled the square to see what was still open. Warm light glowed from inside the Java House, which looked to be packed. A chalkboard sign out front advertised soup and sandwiches as well as the latte of the day. That sounded like just the perfect thing to help my body recover from the hard afternoon of exhausting spellwork.
I had to park a block over. The streets seemed unusually busy for after dark on the square on a week night. The Java House was tucked between a florist and an antique store, the layout more long and skinny than wide. Wonderful coffee smells permeated the air, already making me feel better. Bistro tables filled most of the space with a bar at the front and a banquet table at the very back. The walls were dark red brick covered with old signage and photographs. Conversation covered the muted sounds of classic rock coming out of hidden speakers. I looked for Harriet but didn’t see her.
A waitress put me at a small table for two and took my order for broccoli cheese soup, a grilled chicken sandwich, and a mocha cappuccino. By the time I was done with the food the crowd had thinned considerably. Nursing the coffee to make it last, I relaxed in the comfortable atmosphere.
I was zoned out, staring into my coffee mug, when someone said, “Excuse me.” I looked up to see a woman standing over me. In her fifties, she had eyes that glowed with intelligence and long auburn hair blended with silvery gray. Wearing a patterned ankle length skirt and a loose white blouse, she looked like she could be a slightly hippie college professor. Based on the gentle wave of energy flowing from her, she was more likely to be the Wiccan Ray had told me about. “Are you Roxanne Mathis?”
“Yes.” I gestured at the empty chair. “Have a seat if you’re looking to talk.”
She sat. “I’m Valerie. I think Deputy Travis told you about me.”
“He did. Thank you so much for sharing those supplies. He said you offered to just give the stuff to him but I’m glad you let him pay you. I know that stuff’s not cheap.”
“I live here now. I guess I just thought it was a way of helping. Did everything go okay?” She had a tentative air about her but I didn’t think it was from talking about magic in public.
“It did. Ray was going to take the charms to everyone on the list, convince them to keep the things handy. Hopefully everyone will listen.”
“Good,” she said. “So. I just wanted to tell you, if there’s anything else you need, don’t hesitate to let me know. I may not have your ability but I am very good at some things.” There was a nudge in her voice, as if she wanted to lead the conversation to a certain destination.
“What are you good at, Valerie?” I figured why not get this out of the way. She wanted to tell me something, let her tell me.
“Reading the cards,” she said. “I’ve been doing tarot readings for decades.”
“Have you been doing readings about Britney Parker?”
“No. I’ve been doing readings about you.”
That was unnerving, to say the least. “What do the cards tell you about me?”
“I keep getting the same card, every time I do a reading on you. Death.”
I’d like to say it didn’t bother me, knowing the Death card in tarot represented transformation more often than literal death. Knowing that didn’t stop the shiver that ran up and down my spine, didn’t stop my hands from clenching reflexively. “I never did set much store by a literal interpretation of the cards.”
Valerie smiled. “Oh, I don’t either. But it does disturb me. I know you’re doing a lot to protect others but when I saw you here tonight, saw how young you are.” She paused, biting her lip. “You’re an adult, you don’t want to hear some older woman telling you how young you are. Especially one you don’t know. I just wanted
to tell you, make sure to protect yourself too. I don’t have your gifts, your level of sensitivity, but I can tell there’s a lot of darkness swirling around this town. There has been for months, even before that poor girl died. Whatever’s made her spirit so angry to make her hold on so tightly, it started before her death.”
She stood, producing a business card from her purse. “I meant what I said. If there’s anything else you need, any supplies or even just a friendly ear, give me a call.”
“Thank you.” I took her card and hurriedly fished one of my own out of my bag to give her. “I appreciate it.”
“I’m keeping a candle lit for you, Roxanne. Every night I ask the Goddess to watch over you.” Valerie smiled, warm and matronly in a way that reminded me of Rozella, and left.
I watched her weave through the tables, reaching the door in time to have Ray hold it open for her as he arrived. He went straight to the cashier behind the bar, speaking to her as he looked around the room. Spotting me, he raised a hand in greeting and said something else to the kid working the register. He hurried over and dropped into the empty chair.
“How’d it go?”
“Better than I expected. Everybody but Marjorie Hickfield is cooperating. I think having the mayor along with me made a difference. Marjorie says she’s going to take this up with her pastor.” For the first time Ray showed a few telltale signs of his age, in the lines at the corners of his eyes and the exhaustion that showed the years in his face. He slumped in the chair, rubbing the back of his neck.
“What’s Marjorie’s pastor going to do? Pray me away? Ooh, do I get to tell them that’s a form of magic too?”
That earned me a quick flash of a grin. A strange sensation rushed through me at the sight, warming me like a fireplace on a winter’s night.
Harriet joined us, pulling over a chair from an empty table. “Roxanne, if I’d known you were here I would have come out of the office sooner. Thank you for the mojo hand, by the way.”
“You’re welcome.” I tried to force some enthusiasm into my voice but really, I just wanted her to go right back to her office.
