by Anna Abner
“I want to cast a spell on you,” Cole said.
She startled at the sound of his voice. “What?”
“A protection spell. You’ll still be visible to spirits, but it’ll help slow aggressive spells like Harvey’s.”
“Oh. That sounds good.”
A cool wind blew across her skin. Sort of tickly. Very different from the power she’d sensed a moment ago inside the circle.
“Feel okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Her gaze skidded up his body from his long legs to his wide chest displayed beautifully under a button down shirt as the magical vibrations died away. “Just dandy.”
He was a different person than the shaggy lunatic she’d met the night before. He was wearing shoes, for one. And without the dark whiskers he looked younger and much more handsome.
“Talia?”
Crap. He’d caught her ogling him.
“What are we here for?” Talia asked as she dragged her attention off the man and re-focused on the strange and unexpected items stored in the small space. Shiny, plastic figurines. Rolled posters. And lots and lots of books, everything from comics to graphic novels to leather-bound tomes. Cole went straight for a thick, well-used journal.
“This right here,” he said, thumbing through the pages. She caught sight of precisely drawn spell marks.
“You keep your spells in a book?” She forced a laugh because the careful way he held the book was making her nervous. “Remind me to teach you what an iPad does.”
He flipped a few more pages. “I don’t want these spells to accidentally fall into the wrong hands,” he said. “As long as I keep them in this room I know they’re safe.”
Talia’s curiosity was out of control. “Can I see?”
He thought about it for a second before passing her the book. She opened it to a random page. In the center was an exquisitely drawn spell mark, a hybrid of a Celtic cross and a pointed star. Under it was archaic Latin in neat, straight handwriting.
“Did you sketch all these?” She ran the pads of her fingers over the illustration and felt a spark, as if the mark itself held power. “They’re beautiful.” When Cole didn’t respond, she asked, “What’s so special about them?”
“They channel black magic.” He seized the book from her and slid it into her purse. “The kind of work the Dark Caster specializes in.”
The kind of magic that could land you on heaven’s shit list. “The Carver talked about you like you were a scary SOB. Like you had more power than other casters. Is that true?”
He took a long time answering. “I don’t feel powerful. I feel possessed.”
She returned her attention to a corner of the offensive book peeking from her bag. “What are you planning?” she asked.
“I want to cover all my bases,” Cole said, annoyingly evasive.
“You know unleashing those kinds of spells will draw the attention of heaven,” she warned. “They could strip you of your ability to cast.” The same way agents of heaven had stolen the Dark Caster’s abilities, which was why he abused other necromancers so they would cast for him. Necromancers like Talia.
“You told me,” she said, when it was obvious he wasn’t going to elaborate, “that a child died in your house.”
“On the Couser property, yes.”
“What was his name?”
His eyes narrowed.
“A dead boy attacked me this morning,” she reminded him. “Do you think they’re the same person?”
He lifted a boxed Captain America figure and then set it down again. “I don’t know.”
“To think,” she said, staring at the toy until it went hazy, “he’s been hiding in your house all those years. Alone. Confused. Probably scared.”
Noises from the front of the store signaled they were no longer alone. “Aw, crap,” Talia hissed.
“It’s probably my manager, Justin.”
She edged toward the rear door for them to escape without being seen, but Cole hesitated.
“I want to talk to him,” he whispered. Reaching around her, he opened the stockroom door and revealed her presence to The Repository’s manager.
“Good morning,” Talia greeted, too loud. She hissed at Cole ,”Thanks a lot,” before stepping out of the storeroom and entering the main room of the shop.
The walls were lined with tall shelves. Here and there were shorter racks, plus a card table on one side of the room, and a cash register at the other. It was as clean and organized as his condo and, though it was dark and quiet, looked ready to open any second.
Poor Justin jumped like he’d seen a ghost. Clutching the front of his blue polo shirt, he required a second to calm down before answering. “Good morning. What are you doing in there?” His eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”
There were no spirits lingering around Justin. No floating glyphs. Nothing to suggest he was a caster. Just a regular person.
“Sorry if I scared you. I’m a friend of Cole’s, and I was trying to find him,” she said, the makeshift memorial catching her eye. “I guess I’m not the only one.” She nodded at the mountain of flowers and cards outside the front door.
“Oh.” He blinked rapidly. “I haven’t seen him since the nineteenth, eight days ago. Have you heard he disappeared from the hospital? That’s the latest news.”
She said, “I’m surprised the shop is still open.”
“I didn’t know what else to do.” With a sigh, he crossed to the cash register and keyed in. “Cole’s customers were really important to him.” Then he caught himself. “Are important to him.”
Cole joined her beside a wall of Dark Horse comics, his shoulder brushing hers.
“A new issue came out?” he said, leaning even closer to get a better view at a comic with a screaming monster on the cover. “Damn, it looks awesome.”
“Has anyone come by inquiring about his whereabouts?” Talia asked Justin, concealing an amused smirk.
“Yeah, some guys in suits came by a couple days ago.” Justin shrugged. “They acted like detectives.”
The Carver and another of the Dark Caster’s lackeys, like Jeff or Harvey, searching for their missing hostage.
“Get these for me,” Cole said, pointing to three separate covers, each gorier and more colorful than the last. He pinned on a smile. “Please?”
She rolled her eyes as she collected each issue and carried them to Justin at the front cash register. “I’ll take these.”
The manager frowned at her selection, and then rang her up. “Cole read Cap, too,” he said, somewhat wistfully.
“Yep.” She smiled. “Can’t get enough Cap.”
Cole snorted a laugh behind her.
“I wish he was here to read comics again.” Justin bagged the books, eyes averted. “I miss talking heroes and villains with him.”
Talia glanced over her shoulder at Cole.
“Tell him,” Cole said gently, “to keep the shop open as long as he can.” His voice wobbled, and he ducked out of her line of vision.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said into her hand. “It’ll all be here when you’re ready to come back.”
“What did you say?” Justin asked, leaning over the counter to hear better.
“I love this comic,” Talia said loudly, grabbing the nearest one.
“Oh.” Frowning, he finished ringing her up.
“This store means everything to me,” Cole said.
She stared into his shiny eyes and swallowed hard. “Justin?” she called without taking her gaze off Cole. “Keep the place open as long as you can, okay? Cole will be back.”
“How do you know?” Justin asked. “Have you seen him?”
“Just trust me. He’s coming back, and everything’s going to be fine.”
* * *
Sparky’s Malts and Burgers wouldn’t open to customers until 11:00 AM, two hours away, but Becca hunched over the desk in the cramped office off the kitchen going over the proposed second diner’s permit applications, searching for
reasons it was rejected.
Holden strode up to the office door, and then hesitated to enter. He wasn’t good with small, cramped spaces.
“Did you get my text?” he asked.
“I’m sorry about this morning,” she blurted out.
“I know you have a lot on your mind.”
“Not so much I can’t say good-bye,” she said.
“It’s okay.” He stared at the black and white tiles under his feet. “Just don’t ever do it again.” But when he caught her eye, she knew he was teasing.
“To answer your question,” she said, “yes, I got your text.” Dani was casting locator spells, and she wanted them to meet later for a group cast.
Technically, Rebecca was a caster, like Holden. A made caster. But she’d never asked for the gift. She didn’t even consider it one. She didn’t have a spirit companion. She’d only cast one spell to save Holden’s life, and that had been more than enough magic for her. The memory of the spirit power coursing through her veins and arteries gave off phantom tingles of electricity in her extremities.
“I’m not feeling very well.” The half-truth scorched its way out of her mouth, the first time she’d even attempted to lie to Holden since committing to him.
Back when buying, selling, and staging homes had been her obsession she’d called it spin. Holden had come along and taught her a better way. But it was surprisingly easy to fall into old habits.
“What’s wrong?” Concern all over his handsome face, he closed the distance between them and tested her brow for fever. His touch calmed her, the way it always did.
“I’m tired,” she said the first vague symptom that came to mind. “I’m going to bed early tonight.”
“Are you sure? Everyone will be there.” His voice lowered as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “You don’t have to cast if you don’t want to.”
But it wasn’t that simple. Dani’s place would be crawling with friendly spirits. And when Rebecca hung back she’d get curious and disappointed looks from both Dani and her caster boyfriend David. They’d say it was okay for her to be a bystander, but their eyes would communicate, Cole is your friend. How can you stand there doing nothing?
“Yeah, I’m beat. Send my regrets.” She smiled wanly.
“Okay. I have to go meet the contractor to talk about the second location. Text me if you discover anything.” He hesitated, though, his gaze scanning her face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry. I’ll see you tonight at home.”
He almost left, but at the last second he pulled her flush against his chest and kissed her. Not just any kiss. A hungry, amorous kiss that let Becca know everything was going to work out.
“I love you so much,” she whispered against his mouth.
“You’re my everything,” he whispered back.
With a last lingering look, he left.
Becca listened to him cross the empty kitchen and leave out the back door.
A few seconds of expectant silence passed before the office door swung away from the wall and Derek Walker stepped out of the dark corner behind it.
“Thanks for not telling him I’m here,” he said. His voice was different. His once smooth, slightly sarcastic tone was rougher. Slower.
Becca couldn’t look at him. “I didn’t do it for you.” Holden was not a fan of her former assistant. Not since he tried to possess her with a demon. “If he knew you were following me around it would upset him, and I don’t like it when he’s upset.”
“You love him,” Derek marveled.
“What do you want?” Becca snapped. She hated lying to Holden. Loathed hurting him. “I don’t really want to talk to you, either. I’m sorry the Dark Caster kicked you around like a rusty tin can, but we said everything I ever want to say the night Dani got rid of the Carver.”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back again. “I’m going to disappear,” he said quietly. “I wanted someone to know.”
They were no longer friends, but the thought of never seeing him again still stung. They’d spent a lot of time together. Back before he went dark side.
“Where will you go?” she asked.
“I don’t know yet. But even if I did, I wouldn’t say.” He gestured to the air above them. Spirits everywhere, seen and unseen.
“Fine,” she said, feeling more tired the longer she talked to him. Maybe her fib to Holden hadn’t been such a big one after all.
Derek stepped further into the light, and Becca realized her former friend and employee had changed so much in the past three weeks, he was hardly recognizable. Gone were his expensive, designer suits and loafers. He wore dirty sweat pants with a tear on the right knee and a wrinkled tee with the words athletic department across the chest in gold letters. His dark blond hair had once been important to him, but now it was messy and falling into his eyes. Suspicious, sunken eyes.
He’d not only been attacked by Holden, but trapped in a memory wiping spell so strong Derek had forgotten all the way back to infancy. He’d had to relearn how to walk, talk, tie his shoes…
Perhaps not the last one. The sneakers on his feet were closed with Velcro.
He was in no shape to protect himself from members of the dark cabal who’d already tortured him once. Maybe it was for the best that he move out of North Carolina and start over somewhere far away. Somewhere quiet and free of magic.
“So,” she said. “You told me. Is that it?”
His gaze crisscrossed her face. “Why don’t you want to cast with your boyfriend?”
“What makes you think—”
“Rebecca.” He laughed loudly, a maniacal sound. “Exhaustion has never slowed you down. I’ve seen you go nonstop for eighteen hours straight. You can’t bullshit me.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to deny it, but Derek was leaving. Probably for good. And he was a little bit crazy. Somehow, those two things made her want to tell him the whole truth.
“I don’t want to be a caster,” she said in a rush, the words whooshing out of her. “I hate it.”
He reached around her to snatch a scrap of paper and pen off her desk, and she flinched away. Ignoring her rebuff, he said, “I don’t remember a lot of stuff, but I remember this. When you’re ready.” He handed her the paper showing a spell mark and a Latin word scrawled in childish writing.
Derek Walker was giving her a spell.
“Does that call the Dark Caster straight to me?” she asked. “Does it put me into a coma?”
He shook the paper at her. “Use it when you’re ready to accept the blessing you’ve been given. And it is a blessing,” he stressed. “I’m ashamed of the way I behaved. I should’ve had more reverence. Truly.”
Reluctantly, she accepted the paper and tucked it into her purse, not intending to ever look at it again. “Thanks.”
At the threshold he turned. “I’m sorry for what I did to you.” With a quick nod, he left, jogging through the front to avoid running into Holden.
“He seems nice.” Jolie appeared at her left shoulder.
“Not always,” Rebecca answered, and then came back to herself. She refused to stand in her office talking to a dead person. “Please, go away.”
“And don’t come back.” The ghost rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She vanished.
Chapter Nine
Talia turned the radio’s volume up, and then down. Cole was quiet after their trip to The Repository. She guessed visiting his business had upset him.
“Derek lives in Richlands,” he said off-handedly, flipping pages in his new comic book. “Head west on Highway 24. I want to see if he and Sylvester are hiding in his house.”
“Really?” Stinging hope resurfaced. She hadn’t searched Derek’s home previously. Maybe she should have.
“Hmm.” Cole took several moments answering as he scanned text bubbles. Finally, he closed the first book, set it on the backseat, and pulled another from the sack. “I don’t know if either will be
there. It’s a little fuzzy, but I remember meeting Derek at his home right before the cabal put me to sleep. He was in bad shape, but he knew more than he could say. So, if he’s still lurking on the property I want to talk to him. Maybe even bring him back to the Couser farm with us.”
A third houseguest? Great. “I heard a couple things about him,” she admitted. “Mostly that he was a giant screw-up and, if spotted, he was to be captured, tortured, and then killed.”
“He was supposed to be the Dark Caster’s right hand man,” Cole said, diving into the second book.
“I heard something about that.” She gave him a grateful little smile. He really was trying to help her.
“Derek was working hard on summoning a demon into Rebecca Powell and opening the Chaos Gate. He was succeeding, too, but then Rebecca met up with my friend Holden—”
“The guy from the other night?” Talia asked. “The one with the business card?”
He nodded, glancing at cornfields as they passed by his window. “He lives around here, by the way.”
“Should we swing by?” she teased.
Cole grinned at her, an honest-to-goodness, genuine smile. And it looked good on him. “Let’s stick to the plan.”
Right. Follow the meager clues they already had in the vain hope they’d stumble upon something bigger.
One day.
She’d promised him twenty-four hours. Six of which had passed. Come four the next morning, she was free to return home and spin a tale of abduction and torture for the cabal.
Cole would be on his own.
“I wish you’d rethink your one-man-against-the-world philosophy,” she said. “Seems to me, you could use the help.”
His smile faded. “My friends will try to stop me. They’ll coddle me like I’m some sick infant. No way.” He shook his head firmly. “No.”
“You feel like a sick infant?” she asked, surprised.
“I’m not a child.”
No. Her eyes traveled the length of him, and she concurred that Cole Burkov was most definitely, without a doubt, not a child.
