Spell of Vanishing

by Anna Abner

  “I’m worried there are spies watching us outside, and my barrier spell only protects the square footage within the four walls of this house.”

  “Okay.” She edged away from the closet, giving Cole lots of room. “Is it from the spell book too?”

  “No. This isn’t black magic.” He flashed her a reassuring smile, and she looked away, rubbing goose bumps along her arms. How could he walk around and be completely unaffected by their encounter on the foyer floor? Because she couldn’t stop thinking about it. The pressure of his hands on her thighs, the warmth of his mouth on her chest, the exquisite stretching as he filled her.

  “Talia, you still with me?”

  She jumped. “Yeah. Of course.” But he didn’t feel the same way. He thought of it as a messy mistake.

  “Hugh?” she called, glancing at the balcony.

  She froze. It wasn’t Hugh on the landing. It was Zachary.

  “Hello,” she greeted kindly. “How are you?”

  But he didn’t answer. One moment he was there, and the next he wasn’t.

  “I am pleased to assist,” Hugh said, appearing in the child’s spot, a shimmering apparition.

  * * *

  Stepping inside Milton Couser’s spell circle was about the last thing Cole wanted to do. He’d much rather ponder the mystery of why Talia had stayed. Not that he was complaining. He was glad she’d decided to stay. Thrilled. Slightly giddy, even.

  The truth was, he enjoyed having her around.

  But it was time to focus. Time to practice magic in a serial killer’s circle.

  As he watched Talia grow more and more uncomfortable with the proceedings, he found himself, surprisingly, wanting to reassure her. To maybe even hold her.

  Not that he would. Not when the last time he held her in his arms, he’d taken advantage of her when she was most vulnerable. He wasn’t the kind of man to seek out women going through emotional crises. And he really wasn’t the kind of guy to screw a woman he barely knew on the floor of a haunted house.

  Cole entered the circle. “Hugh, can you juice me up, please?”

  The spirit didn’t respond, but a tingle began in his fingertips and spread up both arms. Not like the power Stephanie had, but enough. He pulled apart his most recent wound and blood bubbled. He shook a single droplet onto the hardwood floor.

  In the four years he’d owned the house Cole had never cast magic with Couser’s spell circle. Not once. He was too afraid of what might happen. But he was older now and stronger and more in control of his power. He could handle Couser.

  He hoped.

  “Invenio,” he said.

  Electrical power, different from anything Cole had felt before, rocketed up his calves so hard he gripped the doorframe.

  Apparently, Couser enjoyed being in his old circle.

  But the power was dark and uncontrolled.

  “Invenio,” Cole repeated. “Draw me a map on the floor.”

  His blood leapt along the floorboards, expanding, a raw current of spirit power zipping from one end of the room to the other.

  Talia scurried toward the balcony doors to keep from being caught in it.

  “Sylvester,” he directed. “Invenio, Sylvester.”

  The red fluid skipped wildly across the floor, but didn’t reveal anything helpful.

  “Hugh,” Cole said. “A little more.”

  The spirit shared his power, but it only agitated the passenger in Cole’s veins. Couser went mad, fighting for complete control.

  Cole held firm. “Invenio,” he said in a final, desperate push.

  He’d cast locater spells before. Actually the exact spell before, but it had never been so unwieldy. It was like he was two people. Cole on the outside, but under his skin Couser filled every crevice.

  With a pop, the blood droplet on the floor exploded.

  The room dissolved into darkness.

  “Cole?” Talia asked.

  He shook his head as borrowed power faded from his fingertips. “I couldn’t focus it. All I can think is, they have his location protected. I’m sorry.” And he really was. If he could fix everything and get her nephew back unharmed he would. But he didn’t know if it was possible anymore.

  “It’s okay,” she assured, smiling shakily. “You tried.”

  Cole left the circle, and the dark power infecting his system faded, too. He took another step into the bedroom, but faltered.

  “Are you alright?” Talia grabbed his arm, steadying him. Her touch sent shivers up his limbs, but not like Hugh’s power. These were pleasant sensations that made him unsteady for very different reasons.

  God, he wanted to grab her and hold on. To love her and feel her return it. But with Couser’s influence so strong, he couldn’t risk it.

  “We better get going,” he said, pretending he wasn’t affected by her at all. “We have a lot to do.”

  * * *

  Right. Today Talia was taking Cole back to the cabin where he’d been a prisoner of the cabal. With a businesslike nod of her head, she escaped into the bathroom for a moment of privacy.

  When she re-emerged, clean and dressed in black leggings and an extra-long white blouse paired with strappy sandals, Cole was waiting in the foyer, ready to leave ASAP in jeans and a plain white tee.

  “We match,” she observed, gesturing to their choice in tops.

  He smiled a little bashfully and held the front door open for her. As they hurried to her vehicle, she cast a look around the property for any lingering spirits, specifically a frightened little boy, but aside from Hugh sulking under a tree, she didn’t see anyone.

  The old Hofmann Forest was on the outskirts of Auburn and a twenty-minute drive.

  “It’s Sunday,” Talia said into the awkward silence. “I have to go to work on Monday.” She turned to determine whether he was listening. “Can we finish this today?”

  He met her eyes and gave the tiniest of nods. “We’ll do everything we can.”

  Her phone went off. The call of a whippoorwill. Her mother’s tone.

  Talia reached for the phone, but Cole got it first, answering the call and hitting the speaker button for her.

  “Hi, Mom,” she said.

  “Any news?” her mother asked.

  Her emotions crystallized in her chest. “No, nothing. Did you talk to Agent Gallo?” she asked, remembering their previous day’s conversation.

  “No, he couldn’t make it,” Mom said. “So Adrian and I hung up new flyers in Springfield. I figured it’s worth a try. Maybe whoever has him went that way.”

  “Good idea,” Talia said, forcing a positivity into her voice she didn’t feel. “I have to go, Mom. I’ll call if I hear anything.”

  They said their good-byes, and Cole hit the power button.

  “What kind of music do you like?” she asked, turning the radio up loud before he had a chance to question her.

  “Not so fast.” He turned off the radio. “Talk to me.”

  It seemed impossible to explain what she was feeling. “I can’t be honest with her, and it hurts.” Even saying the words stung.

  “It wouldn’t help her feel better to know the truth,” Cole said.

  She winced. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s still gone, whether she thinks it was a random kidnapping or a calculated move against you. Missing is missing. So, you don’t have to torture yourself about concealing the details.”

  That’s where he was wrong. “No, it’s my fault. He’s gone because of me, and I deserve to suffer as much as possible because of it.”

  She turned on the radio and, thankfully, he didn’t start any further conversations.

  The last half of the drive was down a lonely, two-lane road flanked by tall evergreens choked with grass, brush, and climbing vines. As each mile passed, Talia’s spirits dropped a little further. Though she had no desire to re-visit the dwelling where Cole had been taken, beaten, and cast into a living nightmare, if there was any chance at all that Sylvester was there, she’d go thro
ugh with it.

  She pulled into a patch of grass that doubled as a driveway and killed the engine. The small home, no more than one thousand square feet of wood siding and linoleum floors, was quiet and empty. She’d bet no one had been there since the last time she and Hugh had searched for Sylvester right after the cabal made it clear they had him hidden somewhere.

  But when Cole stepped out of the car, she was forced to do the same.

  “Can you feel that?” His footsteps crunched through a grassy meadow surrounded in the distance by thick pine forests.

  “What?”

  “There’s no magic here.” He headed for the broken front window. “Not even a barrier spell or a glamour. Nothing.”

  “I told you,” Talia said. “I already looked. They cleared out as if they’re never coming back.”

  “Did you do this?” he asked, gesturing to the shattered window.

  “No. I assumed the prisoners escaped through it.”

  “I wonder if it was Daniela,” he said.

  “I don’t know.” No one had told her the names of the occupants of the basement cell. But it seemed likely. Unless the cabal had casters locked up all over the county.

  “Come here.”

  For a brief moment, Talia was afraid. Afraid he suspected every one of her crimes and was going to exact his terrible revenge. She couldn’t take any torture doled out by him, not when she knew how gentle his hands could be, how sweet his kisses.

  But he didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted to help her safely through the broken window.

  She took his hand, and he pulled her flush to his body. She felt every inch of him, from the rough denim of his jeans to the hard muscle beneath his thin shirt. He swept her up against his chest and set her safely on the other side, avoiding the jagged pie slices of glass.

  “Thanks,” she said, forcing herself to calm down and focus.

  Cole stepped in after her. “What did they do here? Was it another meetinghouse?”

  “Well.” She flashed back to the last time she’d been on the property. A pair of prisoners had been rustling around in the basement cell beneath her feet, and Cole had been bound and bleeding on the living room floor. “It was a prison for top level captives. You don’t remember being here?” she blurted out. And then regretted it. She was admitting too much.

  His brows came down as his very surprised, very disturbed gaze zeroed in on her. “Were you there when they took me out of my car?”

  “Cole.” She backed through the arched doorway, nearly falling into a jagged hole torn through the kitchen floor. “Oh, Jesus,” she cried out, stumbling against a wooden cupboard. That hadn’t been there before, either.

  “Answer me.” He crossed the space between them in three long strides, trapping her against the counter. His angry eyes bored into hers. “Were you there?”

  “Yes.”

  “You were there when they took me from my car?”

  “Yes.”

  He eased off a bit, and Talia’s gaze dropped to the hole in the floor. There was blood around the edges. Whoever had slithered through it had bled for their efforts.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to the broken wood and plaster. “I didn’t know you, and I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Tell me what they did to me,” he said slowly, as if choosing each word with care.

  Oh, no. She couldn’t possibly admit the whole truth. He’d never forgive her.

  “They,” she began slowly, “were cruel. It’s best you don’t remember it.”

  In her mind, she saw Cole curled on the floor, bleeding and gasping in pain.

  “I can’t talk about this.” She pushed past him and headed for the basement stairs. “I’m sorry, Cole.” She ducked under the low ceiling and skipped into the basement, her feet kicking up little puffs of dust.

  Sorrier than you know.

  Under the earth was a single cell with a strong metal door. She hesitated at the chamber’s threshold.

  “There’s no one here,” she said, her eyes scanning the bare white walls and concrete floor. Her gaze locked on the hole in the ceiling. Only a very desperate person would tear their way through the foundation of a house. It couldn’t have been Sylvester, though the thought gave her hope. He was too small to do so much damage. “I already looked.”

  “Let me see.” He brushed against her, but she didn’t move aside.

  “I can’t feel any magic,” she warned, “but I don’t want to get stuck in there, and I don’t want you to either. Let’s just go.” She turned, forcing him to move out of her way. “I hate this miserable place.”

  It was full of sad memories. Somehow, the pain suffered on the property seemed to linger like a haze, and she wanted to get as far away from it as possible.

  On the way back down the long, winding forest road, Talia’s phone made a whippoorwill call.

  Cole answered for her and held it in the space between them.

  “Mom? What’s wrong?” Because everything felt so twisted and torn apart it didn’t seem possible her mother would call with any positive news.

  Their pattern was to call once a day in the morning. A second call couldn’t be good.

  “Talia,” she greeted, her voice raw from crying, “I’ve been banging on your door for ten minutes. Where the hell are you? I need to talk to you. In person. Right away.”

  “Okay.” Her stomach plummeted, bottoming out somewhere near her ankles. It was about Sylvester. It had to be. This was the phone call she’d been dreading. Talia had made too many mistakes and pushed too far. The Dark Caster had murdered her nephew. “My place?”

  “No, somewhere public.”

  She recalled the business card Holden had given her. “Sparky’s Diner on North Marine,” she said. “I’ll see you in about twenty minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  “Mom?” she added before they hung up. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I’ll see you soon,” was all she would disclose, and then the call ended.

  “I have to meet my mother,” Talia said unnecessarily to Cole. “I hope you don’t mind a detour.”

  “Of course not,” he said.

  She drove slow and careful, following every speed limit and every traffic rule. Her thoughts and nerves were too scattered to really focus on the road. Too many other fears and regrets tumbled through her consciousness.

  At the diner, Cole reached to open the heavy glass door for her, but she got to it first. The last thing she needed was for people, her mom in particular, seeing things moving by themselves.

  “Feel that?” he asked as they crossed the threshold. “This is a safe place. Holden’s been studying up.”

  There was a barely perceptible shift in the air as they stepped into the restaurant. A normal person might think it was air conditioning or an air freshener, but it was a layer of magical protection. Probably a barrier spell like the one Cole had wrapped around the Couser house.

  “I was hoping so.” If she must show her face in public, she wanted it to be in a benevolent necromancer’s business behind a shield.

  Her mom hadn’t arrived yet.

  “Welcome to Sparky’s,” called the hostess, “where the past is more than a memory.”

  A nice young woman offered Talia a seat at an empty booth and placed a single menu on the table. She opened her mouth to ask about drinks, but never got to. A vaguely familiar blonde in a mini skirt, long hair bouncing, pushed around the waitress and set both hands on the table, leaning way too close to Talia’s face.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” she hissed. “You’re not welcome here.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Oh, now Talia remembered the beautiful blonde. Rebecca. One of Cole’s friends and a member of Dani’s intimidation posse.

  “I didn’t hurt Cole,” Talia said through clenched teeth. Though that wasn’t completely true. She rubbed her hands on her thighs. “I’m not hiding him. He’s hiding himself.”

  “BS,” she continued. “I want you to l
eave.”

  “Tell her about Sylvester,” Cole prompted. “Rebecca’s a good person. She’ll believe you.”

  “I’m on your side,” Talia said, the words difficult to spit out with the woman staring daggers at her. “The Dark Caster is holding my nephew ransom. Cole is helping me find him. I’m only here to meet my mom so we can talk about Sylvester.” She swallowed thickly. “He’s eleven.”

  Rebecca eased back. “But you work for the Dark Caster.”

  “Not willingly,” Talia answered. “I wouldn’t come here and bother you, but I figured it would be safe from the cabal. If you really want me to leave, though, I will.”

  Her mom strolled through the doors, a discount store blouse stretched across the stress-induced fifteen extra pounds she’d gained in the last couple of weeks. With a wet cough, she dropped into the seat across from Talia.

  “Did you order anything yet?” she asked.

  She only coughed like that when she was smoking, something she’d supposedly quit doing two years ago. Her excess phlegm, though, hinted the bad habit had returned.

  Becca glanced from Talia to her mother before her face transformed into a friendly mask. “Would you ladies like something to drink?”

  “On second thought,” Mom said. “I’m fine.”

  “Nothing for me,” Talia added. Though she had yet to eat breakfast, there was no way she could’ve choked down solid food.

  Becca left them alone.

  “Did something happen?” Talia asked, leaning over the table. “Is everything alright?”

  Mom wouldn’t look at her. “I don’t know what any of this crap means.”

  Casting was the first possibility to pop into Talia’s mind. Though she was a born necromancer, she hadn’t channeled Hugh’s spirit power until she was old enough to conceal it. When she was little her family waved off the ghosts she talked to as imaginary friends. They never suspected she was anything but a normal girl.

  Perhaps they’d discovered otherwise.

  “What mom?” she demanded. God, she couldn’t take the suspense.

  Flustered, her mother turned on her phone and handed it to Talia. “This is just a copy. The FBI has the original. But I wanted to talk to you before they get involved.”