Wiccan, A Witchy Young Adult Paranormal Romance

by M. Leighton

  “I heard her laugh and it was identical to the laugh I heard from Lisa’s killer.”

  “A laugh? You think she did it because of her laugh?”

  “No need to be snide. Yes, that’s exactly what I think.” I had the sudden urge to lash out. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you witness the murder? Do you have better evidence than that? Do you have any viable suspects right now?”

  I heard air hiss through his teeth right before he said angrily, “No.”

  “Well, then what’s your problem? You could at least say, ‘Thank you, Mercy. I appreciate your help. I’ll go check that out’.”

  This time he sighed. “Thank you, Mercy. I appreciate your help. I’ll go check that out.”

  That was not satisfying at all. “You know,” I began, but just didn’t have the energy to finish. “Forget it,” I said then I hung up.

  I could do some investigating of my own. It’s not like Grayson had a doctorate in detecting or that it was illegal for someone other than law enforcement to ask questions. Anyone with a brain and halfway decent observational skills could do it. Plus, I’d seen things that no one else had witnessed. That had to give me an edge.

  Now, where to start? I thought about doing some background stuff, like maybe searching out Jake and asking him some casual questions about Lisa. His interest in me was a deterrent to that route, though, so I kept brainstorming.

  I could always go the direct route, I supposed. I thought about it and the more I did, the better it sounded. And then I began to formulate a plan, feeling more optimistic about my approach by the minute.

  When I stood up to head across campus to the PolySci building, I felt the twitch of a grin tugging at my lips. It would be oh-so-satisfying to get to the bottom of this thing before Grayson. That thought alone put a little spring in my step.

  It was a beautiful day and the walk across campus gave me plenty of fresh air and time for my headache to ease. By the time I reached the building, I was feeling almost human and better than I had in a while, it seemed.

  Faculty offices were almost always located on the first floor of whatever building they were in and, more often than not, they were close to the classrooms over which the faculty member presided.

  Reading the placards beside each door as I went, I searched the hall for Dr. Phillips’ office. When I found it, I stopped, staring at the closed door with a twinge of trepidation.

  Was it really smart to be tangling with and privately investigating a cold-blooded killer? Especially one with extensive knowledge of forensic science and, therefore, better-than-average chances of concealing a crime? Probably not, but at the moment, I felt like I had little to lose and much to gain. Worse case scenario? Someone would kill me and put me out of my misery and, right now, that didn’t seem like such a bad alternative.

  I twisted the knob and poked my head in the door. I assumed that the person sitting behind the computer at a small desk right inside the entry was Dr. Phillips’ teaching assistant. That’s where they usually sat, those teachers who were lucky enough to have space for one, that is.

  Of all the types of people I might’ve expected to encounter as a TA in this department, the guy sitting there didn’t make the list by a long shot.

  His multi-colored hair was trimmed into a close-cropped Mohawk and his face was liberally dotted with silver studs, hoops and barbells. The upper halves of his arms were covered with the black material of his t-shirt, while the lower halves were covered with tattoos.

  He watched me with lackluster brown eyes, but didn’t say a word.

  “Is Dr. Phillips in?”

  He didn’t answer, just continued to stare at me in that disconcertingly blank way.

  I waved my hand in front of him. “Hello? Dr. Phillips?”

  It startled me when he laughed suddenly. “Ha! Just kidding,” he said with a wide and friendly smile. His teeth were straight and white and his grin took me totally off guard. “I love to do that to people,” he said with a mischievous wink.

  I laughed a bit nervously, but said nothing.

  “Dr. Phillips’ll be back in a few minutes. She went for an early lunch about half an hour ago. You’re welcome to wait if you want to,” he said, nodding to indicate the two chairs that were pushed against the wall opposite his desk.

  “Thank you. I think I will.”

  “Cool,” he said amiably then turned his attention back to the computer.

  Talk about your incongruities! I never would’ve expected a personality like that to accompany such physical attributes. I guess that’s why we’re not supposed to judge.

  I watched him surreptitiously as he typed diligently on the computer. He was actually a fairly handsome guy once you got past all the silver and ink. He had smooth dark skin and sexy, heavy-lidded eyes. And his mouth was perfectly sculpted. I was amazed at how distracted I’d been by his personal “artistic expressions.” It’s a wonder I realized that he had lips at all.

  As I sat waiting on Dr. Phillips, I considered trying to use my new and sporadically effective talent. If I could somehow convince her to admit to me that she killed Lisa, it would be too awesome for words. Although it would just be my word against hers, but at least I’d know. I didn’t know what the likelihood of her confessing was, but I figured it was worth a shot and wouldn’t do any harm either way.

  About ten minutes later when Dr. Phillips walked in, I started thinking to myself how great it would be if she’d confess. Over and over I concentrated on my desire for her to just admit what she’d done.

  She stopped first at her assistant’s desk to retrieve any messages. Then she turned to me.

  “May I help you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m thinking about changing my major and I wanted to ask you a few questions about Forensic Science if you have a minute.”

  “My day’s pretty booked, but you can make an appointment for another time. I’d be happy to talk to you then.”

  I hadn’t expected that. I started desperately wishing for her to squeeze me in, just give me a few minutes.

  Dr. Phillips glanced down at her watch and then looked back at me. “You know, I have a few minutes before my next appointment. Why don’t you come on in?”

  She led the way into her office and I followed.

  “Shut the door, please,” she said pleasantly as the rounded her desk and slid into the chair behind it.

  I shut the door and sat in one of the leather chairs facing her. I smiled, fending off a sudden attack of nerves.

  “So, why are you considering a forensic science major?”

  She couldn’t have asked a more perfect question.

  “Well,” I began, clearing my throat before I continued. “I became really interested in the whole process when Lisa Bauer was killed.”

  I saw no perceptible change in her expression or her body language, but she asked a little more carefully, “Is that right? And why is that?”

  I don’t know what came over me, but I surprised myself when I said, “I think I know who did it and I’d like to learn how to prove it.”

  If I’d hoped for a reaction, I was getting one. Dr. Phillips’ lips thinned and tightened. I saw the muscle in her jaw tick as she clenched and unclenched her teeth. And her eyes, eyes that had been warm and open only seconds before, were hard and steely.

  “And what makes you think you know what all the law enforcement professionals in this town do not?” Her voice was smooth as glass and cold as ice.

  “Because I saw her,” I said evenly.

  A barely-noticeable flush spread across her cheeks and down her neck and chest. She licked her lips nervously and smoothed her short bangs. I thought I saw her fingers shake, but it was such a slight tremor I couldn’t be sure.

  “Then why haven’t you gone to the police with this information?”

  “That’s where I’m going next.”

  She stood slowly to her feet and walked around the desk to the door. I followed her with my eyes until she disappeared behind me. Though it
made me uncomfortable, I wasn’t really afraid. I mean, what was she going to do, kill me at school with her TA in the next room and then stash my body in the closet?

  “Why don’t you tell me what you know? Maybe I can help,” she said, entering my peripheral vision as she approached me from the other side.

  I quickly debated the amount of information I wanted to divulge. If my plan went awry, she might be able to use it to thwart the police somehow. And if that happened because of information I’d let slip, I’d never forgive myself. Plus, Grayson would probably throw me in jail for obstruction of justice or something like that so I decided to try another tack.

  “Why don’t you tell me why you killed Lisa and I’ll tell you what I know?”

  It was a gamble. She could easily have laughed it off and told me to leave or she could’ve freaked out because I’d just accused her of such a heinous crime. But she could also have denied it. Only she didn’t.

  “You think I did it?” There was definitely an edge of uncertainty to her voice. It was no longer so cool and calm.

  I whirled around in my chair and met her eyes. “I know you did it. I told you I saw you,” I said, my confidence growing by the second.

  With all my might, I concentrated on her admitting that she did it. I saw her shake her head a couple of times, as if she was trying to rid her mind of a thought. I wondered if it was me she was resisting, my influence.

  “I didn’t—”

  “Yes, you did,” I interrupted. I dropped my voice to a low, soothing tone. “You can tell me. I know you want to. You want to tell somebody why she deserved to die, why you did it.”

  The whole scene had taken on a surreal movie quality. I felt like some sort of super-powered hero that was wearing her arch enemy down, squeezing out a confession. All I needed was a truth lasso.

  “But I didn’t—”

  “Yes, you did,” I repeated quietly. I could see the battle that waged within her; it showed up as the panic in her eyes. She was conflicted. She wanted to tell me, but she knew she shouldn’t. I was making headway. “You kissed her and then you wrapped your hands around her throat and you choked the life out of her. I saw you.”

  As I watched, her eyes hardened to glittering sapphires points. “Then you should know I’m not afraid to take a life. Do you think it was the smartest thing to come here and provoke me?”

  Before I could stop myself, I recoiled from the ice in her tone, from the truth of her words. Had I been rash in my boldness?

  Feeling my heart pick up the pace, I backtracked a little to do some damage control. “Probably not. I just wanted to hear you say it. It’s the only satisfaction I’ll ever get. The police would never believe me and I have no proof. That’s why I came here. I need to hear you say it.”

  “And why is that? That the police wouldn’t believe you, I mean? Why should I let you live the rest of the afternoon on the assumption that you’re telling the truth?”

  Though I knew that she couldn’t hurt me right now, my mouth went dry at the prospect that maybe I was missing something. Maybe I’d made a mistake and underestimated her.

  “Because it was a psychic vision,” I said, throwing the word psychic in there for good measure. That had a tendency to make people write you off immediately.

  Her eyes sparkled with the light of triumph and her bark of laughter was harsh in the stillness of the room. In a gesture that declared her both victorious and superior, she raised her chin a notch, crossed her arms over her chest, and came to lean her hip against the desk right in front of me.

  “Yes, I think you’re right. They’d never believe you.”

  “I know. But I still had to know. For myself.” I hoped I wasn’t laying it on too thick.

  I could tell she was relaxing a little bit, that she wasn’t feeling quite as threatened.

  “Just so you know, if this conversation makes its way to another person, you’ll be burying your family before Halloween. Is that clear?” Her lips curled up into a smile that would’ve made the devil himself pause. “And don’t forget,” she whispered. “I can do it and get away with it.”

  Her words chilled me to the bone.

  “I’m not crazy enough to do that.”

  She looked me up and down, measuring me. “That’s debatable.”

  No longer the least bit concerned, she dropped her arms and walked casually around to the other side of the desk.

  “The thing I don’t understand is why. Why would you kill Lisa?”

  I could tell she wanted to tell me, that she probably would have, but just then there was a knock at her door.

  She looked at me and smiled as she said, “Yes?”

  Her assistant poked his head in the door. “The Dean’s here, Dr. Phillips.”

  “Thank you. Tell him I’ll be right out.”

  When the door closed, she turned her attention back to me. “I trust you won’t forget what I’ve said.”

  I knew she wasn’t talking about her admission; she was talking about her threats.

  “Not a chance,” I said, smiling in return.

  She rose, as did I. We faced each other, like enemies ready to duel, and then I turned and walked out the door without another word or glance in her direction.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  As I made my way from the building, I replayed the events that had just transpired and all the things I could’ve done (and probably should’ve done) differently. My biggest regret was in not taking a tape recorder or wearing a wire. Though I’m not exactly sure what obtaining a legal wire entails, I felt sure that Grayson could’ve arranged it. If he’d believed me, that is. But he hadn’t and I couldn’t help but wonder if he would when I told him what just happened.

  I waited until I got home to call. I was feeling a little...something and with tensions running high, I wasn’t sure how loud my talk with Grayson was likely to get. I had a feeling, though, that if things went as they had this morning, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

  “Grayson.” He answered on the first ring.

  “It’s Mercy. Can you talk?”

  “Uh, hang on.” I don’t know where he was, maybe at his desk with someone close by. I heard his hushed voice along with another one, but otherwise the environment seemed to be fairly quiet. “Alright,” he said a few seconds later. “What’s up?”

  His tone was neutral, which was encouraging. At least he hadn’t written me off completely yet.

  “She did it,” I said without preamble.

  “Who?”

  “Dr. Phillips. Who else?”

  “How do you know?”

  This is where it might get sticky, but I’d come too far to quit now. “She told me.”

  “She told you,” he repeated skeptically.

  “Yes.”

  “She admitted to murder?”

  “Yes.”

  “And why would she do that?”

  “Because I told her I knew she did it.”

  There was a heavy silence on the line and, in my head, I could see Grayson gritting his teeth and seething.

  “You went and talked to her?”

  “I thought I was just explaining that in great detail.”

  “I thought you were joking,” he said, his voice deadly calm.

  “Well, I wasn’t. I knew she did it. Just because you didn’t believe me doesn’t mean—”

  “Of course I believed you. That’s why I’ve already started looking into her. The right way. The legal way.”

  “But I didn’t think—”

  “It seems like you make a habit of that,” he spat. It was just then that it registered with me how truly furious he was. If he weren’t around other people, he’d probably be chewing me up one side and down the other.

  “That’s not fair. You acted like it was ridiculous that I would know her by her laugh.”

  “But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t believe you. I told you I’d look into it.”

  “I thought you were being sarcastic.”

  “I wa
sn’t.”

  “Well, have you found anything yet?”

  “I, uh, I can’t talk right now. Where are you?”

  “Home.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” And he hung up. Without saying goodbye. Although I’d kind of gotten used to it and at times it might even be slightly endearing, today it made me feel crazy and homicidal.