Witch Upon a Star (A Midnight Magic Mystery)

by Jennifer Harlow

  “I-I-I-I don’t know,” I whispered before I burst into tears. Dr. Black squeezed my other hand and let me sob. “I’m no one. He’s gone, and I killed him, and I’m no one now. What have I done? Oh … what have I done?”

  _____

  It was a busy day for the F.R.E.A.K.S.; even I added to the drama. They were hot on the trail of Lord Peter’s bodyguard Ivan, or Monster, as he was called around the vampire scene. Everyone knew to avoid him even without being told. Even amid vampires he was intimidating. Six-four, pale blue eyes, built like a tank and never without a scowl, even when he was leering at my breasts. It didn’t surprise me at all to hear he was a serial murderer.

  The F.R.E.A.K.S. were stretched so thin, no one gave leaving a confessed murderer alone a second thought. Not that I was a flight risk. Where did I have to go? Dr. Black escorted me into a hotel room, and only came to check on me if he had more questions. About two hours of lying in a stranger’s bed with only the Harmons’ and Asher’s howls of agony to keep me company, I broke quarantine and returned to the conference room. Unfortunately, High Priestess McGregor had arrived by then. I interrupted Dr. Black comforting her, just a simple hug between colleagues, but when the witch set eyes on me, her disgust and hate radiating from her hard brown eyes, I retreated back to my isolation. I’d already caused so much pain, I couldn’t bear to cause a second more.

  About seven hours after my escape, while I stared at the television watching Joan Collins battle Linda Evans on Dynasty, there was another knock on the door. “Annie?” Nathan asked as he stepped in with a bag of fast food. “Hey. Brought you something to eat.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered as I sat up, “but I’m not hungry.”

  He joined me on the edge of the bed and passed me the bag regardless. “You need to eat.” I didn’t move. “Hey, you promised me dinner. It ain’t Morton’s, but it’ll have to do.” I hadn’t eaten in almost twenty-four hours, but I didn’t realize how starved I was until I saw and smelled the fries he laid out. I ate one. Two. Then I couldn’t stop. “Knew you were a woman of your word.”

  “My one saving grace,” I said with my mouth full.

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “The guests at the Elysium Hotel might beg to differ.” I paused. “Did the hotel burn down?” I asked with a knot in my gut.

  “How’d you know that’s where I was?”

  “You smell like smoke.”

  He sniffed his rumpled suit jacket. “Oh. No. The fire was contained to … your suite.”

  “Christine?”

  “It’s a madhouse there. They’re still processing the scene.” He paused. “Your room was a mess, and vampires can burn to nothing, especially when daylight’s involved. We did find a body in a nearby room drained of blood, but there may be no connection. Just to be safe we locked the place down. No one went in or out until we did a full sweep of every room and garage. We didn’t find her.”

  “So she either died or got away before lockdown. And there was no body in my room? None? So he could …”

  Nathan touched my hand to calm me. “The bedroom was cinders. No one could have survived. Not even a vampire. You’re safe now. He can’t hurt you anymore, okay?”

  I couldn’t stand the feel of Nathan’s hand on mine, not because it didn’t feel good but because it did. I yanked mine away, balling it into a fist. “So, um, am I under arrest?”

  “I, uh, I have no idea. Sorry. Like I said, everything’s nuts. Was before you even got here. Might be cold comfort right now, but you helped us to avoid a war.” My weary eyes narrowed in confusion. “Last night. The information about the bite, the ripped throat, teeth and claws, the motive. Talking to you, I realized the whole thing screamed setup. The first two murders were staged. This Ivan made it appear a vampire was the UNCRET. Tensions were so high both factions weren’t asking questions, just jumping to conclusions. We were so focused on the macro, we forgot to review the micro. We had the first victim’s diary, but no one bothered to read it until last night. It turns out Abigail Conlon was seeing someone, an older werewolf she met at Club Vertigo. Just called him ‘I.’ Ivan Illovitch fit her description. We put the pieces together about an hour before you arrived. The werewolves are chasing him down right now. You did that, Annie. Who knows how many others would have died without you.” He moved up the bed and gazed into my eyes. “What happened to those people last night wasn’t your fault. I’m sure you did everything you could to protect them.”

  “I should have known,” I whispered. “I should have known what he’d do. I never should have involved them, but I didn’t have any place else to go. They were helping me. They were good, nice people, and …and …” Just when I thought there were no more tears. Wishful thinking, I guess.

  This time I didn’t shy away from Nathan’s embrace. I had no fight left in me for anything. “Hey, hey,” he said, giving me a hug. I squeezed back. “It’s all okay now. Everything will be okay.”

  “I couldn’t do anything. I tried but … oh, that little girl. That poor baby. She was so frightened, and Oliver …” The image of Bethany’s sweet face brought fresh sobs. “She was two years old, Nathan. Two, and he …”

  “No one told you?” Nathan asked as he pulled away. “Annie, Bethany Harmon’s alive.”

  “What?”

  “She walked into the sheriff’s station late last night with no memory of how she got there. They’re working on retrieving her memory right now. The police did find three other bodies in the burnt-out house, but the girl’s alive. Not a scratch on her.”

  I covered my mouth as I gasped. At least a thousand pounds lifted off my shoulders. “Really?”

  “I don’t lie, remember? She’s alive, Annie. I swear it. And we’re working on finding this Oliver. We think he’s run to Lord Peter, who has been less than cooperative. There’s a big meeting set for after sundown to hash this mess out. You’ll probably have to be there.” He touched my hand again. “But I’ll be there too. I’ll do whatever I can to help you. I promise.”

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” I whispered.

  “Because …” he said, squeezing my hand, “if anyone ever needed a friend in this world, Annie Olmstead, that person is you. I’m more than happy to oblige.”

  “I’ve never had a real friend before. Not really.”

  “That … is the saddest thing I have ever heard in my life,” he chuckled. “Really.” He shook his head. “Well, then I am glad to remedy the situation. And as your new friend, I insist you eat every bit of this fine greasy feast before I do, then I’ll take your formal statement and get us ready for the meeting.” His smile wavered to nothing. “I am gonna need to know every detail though. Everything,” he said as if I already wore a scarlet “R” on my chest.

  When it came to that part of my horror story, I did lie. It was the only time, and I did it not because I didn’t trust him, but because I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself, let alone say it aloud. The “official” story was he locked me in the bathroom, I broke out and decided he needed to die or he’d hound me until the grave. At the time, Nathan seemed to believe me. He asked a lot of questions, but the Olmstead genes kicked in, and the lies flowed.

  “I was right,” Nathan said, closing his notepad after over two hours of hell.

  “What about?”

  “You did everything you possibly could have done for those people. For yourself. You got grit, Annie Olmstead.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “Oh, Annie, it’s everything,” he said with a grin. I managed a tiny smile back. Even in the most grave of circumstances, he could always bring a smile to my face.

  The ringing telephone disturbed our first nice moment in hours. Nathan reached across to answer it. “Yes?” He listened. “Yes, sir. We’re on our way down.” He hung up and treated me to another smile, this time sympathetic. “They’re ready for us. You okay to do this now?”

  “I don’t know. Do I have a choice?”

  He squeezed my h
and again. “You got this, Annie. Come on. I’m right beside ya.”

  And he was. The entire march downstairs, even while I waited outside in the hallway for half an hour. He would have stayed longer, keeping my mind occupied with small talk and questions about magic, except he was summoned inside. My stomach knotted a dozen times when he disappeared out of sight. I hadn’t realized how calming his presence was until it was gone.

  As I waited, I willed myself numb again. There were three potential outcomes to this meeting, one worse than the last, but I knew that when I turned myself in. I could be imprisoned for years, which was the best case scenario. Guaranteed three meals a day, a roof over my head. It was more than I had sitting in that hallway. The second option was that Lord Peter could request my execution. Under vampiric law, as a consort, if I murdered a vampire for any reason other than self-defense, the punishment was immediate death. As I sat in that hallway, that fate didn’t seem terribly dreadful either. The third, where they let me go into the big bad world, was a hell of a lot more frightening. Despite what Nathan believed, whatever resolve from twenty-four hours ago I ever possessed burnt away with my lover. No hope. Asher had taken that glimmer I’d fought so hard for from me in the end too. The greatest of his sins against me.

  Nathan stepped out twenty minutes later. “They’re ready for you now.”

  I held my head up high as I walked inside to face my fate.

  My tribunal was gathered around the table, some of whom I’d already met: Dr. Black at the head, High Priestess McGregor to his left, the debonair Lord Peter to his right with Oliver beside his only ally, and the redheaded Mr. Dahl sitting behind a huge bald man in his fifties with blue eyes. Every heavy hitter in the North American supernatural community. If I weren’t so terrified, I would have been honored. The moment I entered, the tension in the room was already palpable, especially between Lord Peter and the bald man, who were too busy sneering at one another to give me the slightest notice. Mrs. McGregor merely glanced at me before hanging her head. Oliver stared straight ahead, hands folded on the table. Only Dr. Black and Mr. Dahl gave me anything resembling a friendly greeting, if sad, pitying smiles qualify. Nathan pulled out my chair across from Dr. Black, then he sat beside me.

  “Hello, Anna,” Dr. Black said. “We’ve heard from Mr. Smythe and Special Agent West about the events of last night and this morning. Now, if you could, in your own words, tell us—”

  “This is fucking ridiculous,” the bald man cut in. “We heard what happened already. Rehashing it would be just wasting more time when we should be out looking for the cocksucker who murdered my granddaughter!”

  “Alpha Conlon, please,” Dr. Black chided.

  “What? She left her boyfriend, he got pissed, killed some people, and she took care of the bastard for you. Seems pretty fucking cut and dried to me.”

  “You insensitive bastard,” the High Priestess spewed.

  “What? Look, Sally, I am damn sorry about your witches, I really am. I can more than relate, but the only reason I’m at this table is because that fucker,” he said, pointing at Lord Peter, “knows where Ivan is and is holding out to save his little butt buddy here. For all we know, he put Ivan up to all this to start a war!”

  “I did no such thing, and I have resented the implication this is my doing from the start,” Peter spewed back. “I had absolutely no knowledge of Ivan’s misdeeds and would have turned him in posthaste had I. And let us not forget the four of my people your wolves slaughtered.”

  “And I already told you, they’ve been dealt with.”

  “And I am supposed to take your word for it?” Peter asked.

  “My word is my bond, bloodsucker. How dare you question it? I—”

  “Alright, everybody please calm down!” Dr. Black snapped. “You all agreed to cooperate with one another. Every single person at this table has the same goal: justice for your respective clans.”

  “Then let’s get on with it,” the werewolf said. “What does he want for Ivan?”

  “Leniency for my subject. Per his statement, Mr. Smythe believed he was simply going to retrieve Miss Asher—”

  “Kidnap her,” Nathan cut in

  “Retrieve her,” Peter continued, “and Mr. Smythe took no part in the tragic killings last night. He even went out of his way to ensure there were no further deaths. Need I remind you there is a little girl alive because of his quick thinking. All Oliver is guilty of is a poor choice of friends and destroying evidence.”

  “Is this true, Miss Asher?” Dr. Black asked.

  I glanced at Oliver, who stared down at his hands. “If Bethany is alive, then yes. He didn’t lay his hands on anyone.”

  “He also did nothing to stop the situation,” McGregor said.

  “There was nothing I could do,” Oliver said.

  “Bullshit,” said the Priestess. She turned to Dr. Black. “George, you can’t let him get away with this.”

  “If it gets me Ivan, oh yes he can,” Alpha Conlon chimed in. “Your guy’s been taken care of already by the girl here, mine’s still out there. He’s a rabid dog, Sally. You saw the pictures of my Abigail. Hell, look what he did to his own kid. We need to find him, and find him now. If it means pretty boy over there gets a slap on the wrist, so be it.”

  Dr. Black pondered this for a few seconds. “What do you propose, Peter?”

  “You mentioned being short staffed, and that your last vampire agent met her final death several months ago. We have spoken, and Oliver is amenable to joining your organization for a decade instead of serving his time in your internment facility. Not only will he bring a vast network of connections in the vampire world to the table, but as last night proved, he is quick on his feet, good in a crisis, and dare I say it, even heroic on occasion. I cannot recommend him highly enough for the post. And should he flee, or simply not live up to your expectations, I shall kill him myself. This I vow.”

  Dr. Black looked at High Priestess McGregor. “Not good enough,” she said.

  “Thirty years,” Dr. Black countered. “Nonnegotiable.”

  Lord Peter whispered to Oliver, who nodded, then said, “I agree to the terms.”

  “Great. Settled. Now, where the fuck is Ivan?” the Alpha asked.

  Lord Peter removed a piece of paper from his pocket and passed it across. “I own a cabin in Warrenton. He is there. The directions are in the envelope.”

  The Alpha leapt up. “Guess we’re done here.”

  “Not yet,” Mr. Dahl said. “The boy. Ivan’s son. What happens to him?”

  “Who the fuck cares, Frank? George can square him away.”

  “He’s a traumatized boy,” the Priestess said. “A werewolf boy. He should be with others of his kind.”

  “I don’t want that mongrel,” the Alpha said. “He’s psychotic like his father. He damn near gutted one of my men!”

  “Because we literally broke into his house and terrorized him,” Mr. Dahl pointed out. “I would have done the same.”

  “Me too,” chimed in the witch.

  “He ain’t pack, and he ain’t our problem.”

  “I’ll take him,” Mr. Dahl said quietly.

  “The boy cannot be placed in regular foster care,” said McGregor. “If I’m not mistaken, the law states any known werewolf under the age of eighteen is under the guardianship of the reigning pack regardless of his or her formal affiliation with said pack. He—”

  “I said I’ll take him,” Dahl proclaimed louder that time.

  Conlon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Jenny’ll love that.”

  “She’ll learn to,” Dahl said. “And we are bound by law to oversee his care until he’s of age. She is correct about that right, Dr. Black?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I volunteer to oversee his care,” Dahl said.

  “Fine. Whatever. The little monster’s yours. Can we leave now? Is this kangaroo court adjourned yet?” Conlon asked.

  “There is one more item on the agenda,” Lord Peter said before turn
ing his cold glare my direction. “Miss Asher.”

  I sat up straight in my chair and willed the knot in my gut to uncoil.

  “What about her?” Conlon asked. “Your guy kidnapped her, she fought back and won. Good on her.”

  “It is not that cut and dried. Per her statement to Agent West, when she committed the act, she was not in immediate danger therefore she did not act in self-defense. Miss Asher maliciously murdered her consort, in cold blood, and endangered many other lives in the process. By vampiric law, she is culpable for multiple atrocities and must be turned over to me for the appropriate punishments.”

  “Now, wait a minute,” Nathan said. “She might not have been in danger at the moment, but she did try to leave your vampire once and look what happened. She was terrorized, kidnapped, made to watch as an entire family was massacred, physically assaulted, and held hostage. Where was your vampiric law then? Isn’t it also meant to protect her? You,” he said, gesturing to Oliver, “you knew this Asher. If she ran again, would he have gone after her again like last night?”

  “Without a doubt,” Oliver said.

  “Then even without her being in immediate danger, that still sounds like self-defense to me. He left her no other choice,” Nathan said.

  “Her crimes are not under the F.R.E.A.K.S. purview,” Lord Peter countered. “The case against Asher and Christine, yes, as their victims were a different caste. But this was consort on vampire crime, therefore only vampiric law applies, and you have no jurisdiction.”

  “She’s a witch,” Nathan pointed out.

  “She is a consort first.”

  “So he,” Nathan said, nodding to Oliver, “the one who stood by and did nothing while three people were butchered, gets off scot free, but Annie faces a possible death sentence? Does that seem right to anyone?”

  “It is—” Lord Peter began.

  “Agent West is right,” High Priestess McGregor proclaimed. “Everyone at this table is making concessions for the greater good, Peter. What good would it possibly serve to punish this young girl? We all heard her account. She has suffered enough already. This Asher got nothing less than what he deserved as will this Christine when you locate her,” she added with a hard edge.