Bewitched Murder (Inept Witches 3)

by Amanda A. Allen

  Mary collapsed in a heap, sobbing. Gallery Guy dropped to his knees and comforted her. Mary continued to cry. “Mama. Don’t do this to us. Please. Don’t pick your magic over our family. I’m begging you.”

  Silence. And then Mary looked out into some unknown distance and screamed what must have been Jill’s last words. “Maaaaaarrrryyyyy.”

  Mary looked around, her eyes focusing on the occupants in the room. She was back. Her vision had ended. Tears streamed down her face, and she locked eyes with her father.

  “Daddy,” Mary said, her voice small and childlike—no trace remaining of the snarky teenager that stood in her place only minutes before—“I know what happened to Mama.”

  She barely choked out the words before she started sobbing so hard she struggled to take breaths between another desperate, silent wail.

  “Larry and Marge did this.” It was Dean. “I didn’t think it of them. I didn’t think anyone would kill their child for something so stupid.”

  “What?” Ingrid asked. “Why?”

  “Jill left the magic life,” Gallery Guy answered. “We both did. It was…too intense. It was like being good at magic was more important than anything else. When Jill found out she was pregnant suddenly all the pressure she’d felt her whole life…it wasn’t going to happen to her daughter.”

  He pet Mary’s purple and black streaked hair, holding her against his chest as she shuddered.

  “Jill loved Mary more than anything. Jill was determined to let her daughter pursue anything. Music, science, art, street car racing, she didn’t care. We used to lay in bed together with baby Mary between us and just talk about all the things she could do with her life. She planned on introducing her to magic, but not until she was an adult and would have the choice to practice--or not.”

  His voice was soft, emotion-filled as he thought back. “That was far more magical than speaking to spirits or lighting things on fire with our minds. Nothing met the wonder of her tiny hands. Her first smile. All of it.”

  Emily turned and looked at Dean. “You investigated them. You didn’t know?”

  Dean shook his head. Emily could see the shock in his eyes and she was glad for it. Glad to see the proof of his innocence there. It weighed more in her heart than a truth serum confession. She’d heard too many of those, she thought. Truth serums did not outweigh the feel of someone’s emotions.

  Emily looked at Ingrid and saw that she saw it too. Good. Emily suspected that Dean was going to be part of her life for a while. After Europe. Maybe. And if he was, Ingrid needed to—at the minimum—not be opposed.

  “What do we do?” Gabe asked. “I can’t use a vision of a child to prosecute.”

  “You can’t,” Dean interjected. “No disrespect to you and your department, but Larry and Marge are powerful necromancers. I wouldn’t be able to contain them alone. I’m not even sure if Hazel’s entire coven can handle them, depending on what tricks they have prepared.”

  Emily chimed in. “My aunt is pretty badass, Mr. Wallace.”

  He looked at her sideways when she used his surname, but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he shook his head. “I’ve seen that. The Brickmans are good, though, Emily. And they’re good at combining their abilities. And, quite frankly, Hazel has a girl who is learning to speak to animals and one that is learning potions that clear up acne. This coven is delightful and kind. They’re not…” Dean didn’t say the rest.

  But, Emily wasn’t so sure. Hazel was badass. Saffron was. Autumn. Kaye. That was four against two. And she bet that any Presidium hired hand was probably not entirely useless. She eyed Dean and his yummy shoulders, his yummy stubbly face, and those brilliant eyes and then she tried to open her mind and feel his abilities like Hazel had been trying to teach her.

  “We need to call in Presidium. This type of thing is exactly what they are for. To stop criminals who abuse their magical abilities and who cannot be stopped by traditional law enforcement.”

  “Let’s get Auntie first. She needs to know what’s going on here.”

  Ingrid and Gabe went for Hazel and Emily turned to Gallery Guy, who was still holding the quietly, shuddering Mary. Even though Emily hadn’t known Jill, Emily hated what these witches had done to Mary. Jill’s parents killed her. Emily didn’t even know how to handle that information and could not imagine what it must be like to be Mary and not just know her grandparents had killed her mother, but to have felt it.

  Holy hells, Emily thought, the poor kid.

  Emily was gonna end these bastards. Plus Larry was a stupid name. How powerful could they really be anyway?

  •••

  Gallery Guy and Hazel talked Mary into the cushiony chair by the espresso machine while Ingrid made her something full of too much caffeine and booze, just like Mary loved. Gallery Guy didn’t even object when Ingrid pressed it into the girl’s hands. They left her there, sipping her drink and gathered on the other side of the bookstore to whisper together.

  Ingrid was the first to break the silence, “Now, we need to figure out how to murder the shit out that girl’s grandparents. Who’s with me?”

  Emily nodded her agreement, and everyone in the room followed suit. Gallery Guy, Gabe, even Dean. But he had more to say. “It’s not going to be simple.”

  Hazel nodded, “No, it won’t be simple. And I agree with you that we need to call the Presidium. We are going to need their help. But, there’s something you need to know first.”

  “What’s that,” Dean asked?

  “I don’t trust the Presidium.”

  Dean opened his mouth to object, Emily could see it in his face, but Hazel held up a hand.

  “I don’t like or care for the Presidium. I object to their motives and I object to the power they wield. However, not all of them are entirely without honor.”

  Dean cleared his throat. Emily looked at him and wondered just what he knew about what her aunt was saying.

  Dean didn’t nod so much as simply not argue with Hazel in an ominous silence, but Emily was pretty sure that he’d seen something. Something that he would have to tell her when she got him alone and rewarded him for not being a psycho killer.

  “We can call Jordan Hale,” Dean said. “He’s been my contact for years and he’s never been a fan of Larry and Marge and their coven. He’ll want to know about this. Trust me.”

  “No,” Hazel said simply. “This is my coven, my island, and my responsibility. We will, unfortunately, only be able to call Edward Fitzgerald.”

  “He’s a Presidium elder,” Dean said, “I don’t have his number. I am way below that pay grade.”

  “I didn’t say you would call him,” Hazel replied.

  She pulled out her phone and texted someone.

  “You are having a text conversation with a boss of the Presidium?” Ingrid asked. Her eyes avidly watched Hazel, but the answering glance Hazel gave Ingrid had Emily’s best friend crossing the room to check on Mary and make more coffee.

  Awkward silence abounded between the rest of them while they waited for Ingrid to return with the magical coffee elixir.

  Gabe cleared his throat and watched out the window even though it was dark and their reflections were all they could see. Dean shifted and stared at his feet. Emily did not dare to look at her aunt, calmly texting some Presidium boss man. What in all the hells was happening and how did her aunt have this secret life? Surely Auntie just headed up the Sage Island Coven, occasionally made too-rare steak, and led naked spells in the woods?

  When Ingrid returned, she did not meet Hazel’s eyes and Ingrid handed Emily’s aunt her favorite coffee, perfectly made. She had practically written in the foam a plea for hexes to be held off.

  “Auntie,” Emily said carefully. “Could you please catch us up? Who are the Presidium? Why don’t you trust them? And why is it that Larry and Marge are so dangerous? Everyone seems pretty freaked out. And by everyone, I mean you and Dean.”

  “They are the big guns, the Presidium. Big, unregulated, unrequeste
d, un-elected guns, Emily. And that’s the kind of power we are going to need to stop Larry and Marge. They killed their own daughter, they obviously have no souls or hearts. And Jill was a powerful witch. Even though she didn’t use her magic much once she came to the island, she would still have been powerful.”

  As if she’d just realized Gallery Guy was in the room, she assumed an even more somber look on her face. “I’m sorry, Doug. This must be difficult for you. After all, you two did to leave magic behind, to still have it haunt you in this way. I’m so sorry.”

  Gallery Guy’s lips were pressed together in a thin line and his face was red and blotchy. Emily didn’t think she’d ever seen him this angry. Maybe never. “They need to pay for this, Hazel.”

  “They will.”

  “What will the Presidium do that we—er, you—can’t?” Ingrid asked quietly as if she were afraid to catch Hazel’s attention again. That was fair. The look Hazel shot Ingrid would have terrified anyone who knew Hazel well.

  Her aunt sighed, clearly irritated that she was having to give them a lesson about something they should have been familiar with, at the very least, but she proceeded to give them an explanation.

  “The Presidium is made up of the most powerful supernatural creatures in the world. Shifters, vampires, witches, you name it. They have many areas of operations, from intelligence gathering to assassins and hit squads. When a witch goes bad, they come in and clean up. But the Council has corruption, just like any other organization. We aren’t always clear who we can trust. I have never allowed them to operate on Sage Island, and I am not happy about asking for help.

  That was clear, the chill in Auntie’s voice was honestly terrifying.

  “Unfortunately, since I would like all of us here to survive, Larry and Marge Brickman are a call-the-Presidium situation.

  “Why?” Ingrid asked, edging behind Emily.

  Her aunt didn’t seem to notice that Ingrid was a little bit terrified of her right now.

  “They are from a pure line of Necromancers who have unparalleled access to powers if they are willing to set aside all the boundaries that good witches have. I am not willing to set aside those boundaries. No one here is. But the Presidium…well, they do whatever they want don’t they, Dean?”

  Hazel’s blue eyes were cold as they fixed on Emily’s potential love.

  He nodded, unapologetically. "Whatever it takes to stop true evil."

  “Look,” Emily said carefully, daring to grab her aunt’s attention. “We’re together. We’ll help each other through this. We’ll be like…”

  “Like a coven,” Hazel answered, giving Emily just a bit of a smile and breaking the tension that her aunt’s fury had placed the rest of them under.

  It was that break that made Emily realize a couple of things. Her aunt was a bit scary. Her white hair and age didn’t disguise the power that radiated from her.

  “Oh my goodness, Auntie,” Emily said as the revelation flowed over her. “You are terrifyingly badass.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Presidium

  The bell on the front door rang and Larry and Marge walked through. Damn. Another epic battle in the bookstore. It’s a good thing we haven’t put much effort into cleaning up after the last fight, Emily thought.

  Mary squared her shoulders and leaped from the cushy chair to charge her grandparents like she had way more magical ability than to simply hear dead people talk to her. “You killed my mother! Right in front of me. I'm going to kill you with my bare hands.”

  The grandparents watched her with a casual interest. Gallery Guy followed Mary, grabbing her before she got further than a step or two. “Mary. You are no match for them. Stop. Let the professionals handle this.”

  Gabe drew his weapon and pointed it at Larry, who smirked at Gabe. Emily took a breath as she saw Mary attempt to reach her grandparents, but was unable to overpower her dad.

  Hazel didn’t seem to notice, she simply said, “Marge. Larry.” Hazel’s voice was calm. Icy.

  The tone didn’t impact the killers.

  “You dare to return to this island? My island! After you murdered your daughter! That is a mistake you will regret making.”

  “You know nothing of our regrets, Hazel, or our intentions,” said Marge with her snake gaze. “We are here to claim our grandchild, heir to the Everett Coven. It is her birthright. You will no longer keep her from us. Not with your laws or your magic.”

  The last word was so very snide that Emily’s brows rose. But she casually stepped in between Mary and her psycho grandparents. They’d have to go through her to get to Mary. Emily looked around the room.

  She knew that everyone said they’d need the Presidium, but there was quite a force here, ready to stand up to Larry and Marge. Protecting Mary was everyone’s focus.

  Gallery Guy’s hand gripped Emily and she was certain he would fight to the death, as would everyone else in the room to keep the slightly rebellious purple-haired young girl out of the hands of these snakes.

  Ingrid and Gabe stood next to each other just to Mary’s left. Gabe’s gun was pointed, without wavering, directly at Larry. Emily could tell that he would shoot this SOB in a heartbeat. All the magic in the world wouldn't protect Larry from Gabe if Ingrid were in danger.

  Hazel and Dean had stepped forward and positioned themselves in front of Emily, who stood in front of Mary.

  Marge uttered some spooky sounding Latin and Gallery Guy crumpled to the floor without a word of protest. Apparently the standoff was over. Before Emily could even check to see if he was still alive, Hazel’s voice rang out loudly through the bookstore and Marge flew back against the glass at the front of the shop. Marge’s eyes were wide, not quite afraid. More like surprised that Hazel had gotten the jump on her. Emily couldn't wait to watch her aunt school Marge in all the magical ways that mattered.

  Mary screamed and leaned down over her dad’s still form. Dean focused his efforts on Grandpa. Emily focused half of her attention on Mary and Gallery Guy and half on Dean as he recited what sounded like some long extinct religious text.

  She heard a loud bang, but no one crumpled from the gunshot. There were shouts and magical phrases and books were flying. Amidst it all, Dean’s hands were extended, palms facing Larry. An orange streak arched from Dean’s hands towards Larry, but Larry sent his own bright light of yellow evil at Dean.

  Larry’s direct assault on her hawt-Dean irritated Emily. Hazel and Dean seemed so freaked out by these two old magical freaks that they’d called in those weird big dogs, the Presidium. And, those big dogs were too far away to get here in time.

  Emily’s mind raced, doing the addition. Hazel was afraid someone wouldn’t make it out alive. And that wasn’t something that was okay with Emily. Except for Gallery Guy, she’d be genuinely broken up if something happened to anyone else. And Mary lost enough today, she didn't deserve to lose the one person in the world who seemed utterly devoted to her. Even if he was a complete douchebag. Emily tried to summon some sort of fear, for the sake of her own preservation, but the only thing she felt was anger. It would be lovely to hurt someone right now.

  She was awfully tired of people getting hurt. She looked around slowly, trying to decide whose bones to break first.

  She watched as Larry moved, practically in slow motion. He kept one hand focused on Dean and used the other to break the bond that surrounded his wife. Marge broke loose and threw a spell toward Dean. The surge of protectiveness for this near-stranger almost-lover surprised her even as her emotions flamed into an arch of fire that went for Marge. Emily hoped only to distract Marge, but the old bat could burn to a blackened crisp for all Emily cared.

  Marge noticed the wall of flame coming her way, though and matched it with a burst of ice that immediately doused the fire.

  “Emily. Seriously. I got this. Stay back, please.” Dean’s voice was amused, yet she could hear a tension in it that wasn’t usually there. Was he pretending to be amused? Or was he really laughing at her in a f
ight to the death?!

  “Oh, no you did not just try to sideline me. Is this because I’m a girl?”

  Her blood boiled more at the insult than it had out of concern for Dean. What a sexist asshat.

  Dean concentrated, trying to hold off Marge and Larry at the same time. Hazel worked to distract Larry, but it was clear that Marge and Larry were pretty powerful witches. For the first time, it occurred to Emily that Hazel and Dean might be out-magicked here.

  Well, crap.

  It seemed as if Gabe reached the same conclusion. She watched him raise his gun and fire off another two rounds at Larry, who was occupying both Hazel and Dean, leaving Marge free to challenge Emily. She was pissed, but she wasn’t going to be able to out-witch Grandma. The shots distracted Marge for a moment and she turned toward Gabe. She stopped the bullets in mid-air before they could hit Larry and then pulled the gun out of Gabe’s hand. Emily watched with not a little concern as Marge’s magic bent Sheriff Gabe’s gun hand backward at the wrist.

  Ingrid saw it too. The rage on her face at the sight of Hotpants in pain was fairly impressive. Emily would have to tell Ingrid later that she looked practically feral. Maybe she was a cat shifter.

  Ingrid started chanting Latin. She wasn’t playing. When Ingrid wanted to take magic seriously, she was a force to be reckoned with. Sort of.

  “Ugh, Damn it. I can’t remember the words,” she looked at Emily. Then she looked at Gabe, who was grimacing from the pain of his oddly bent arm. “I’m gonna kill her for this.”

  “Dean,” Hazel spoke, “I got Marge. You get Larry.”

  He grunted too busy to shake his head. And Marge, the snake grandma, straight out laughed at Emily. Even with her attention focused on the cow grandma, Emily could see the tiniest drops of sweat building on Dean’s forehead from the strain of holding off Larry.

  Was that magic that let her notice those things? If it was…how to use it?

  And Dean was struggling with Hazel’s help.

  Marge circled Emily, Ingrid, and Gabe playing with them like a cat. Emily began to scheme. Really scheme. How were they going to get out of this without someone getting hurt? Someone that mattered of course. Emily intended that Larry and Marge get very, very hurt. And Emily didn’t need to wonder if Ingrid felt the same.