Halfway Hexed

by Kimberly Frost

  “Are you bleeding?” Bryn asked sharply, putting me in a chair and lifting my wounded foot.

  “That’s enough!” Edie snapped. “Don’t let him touch your blood.”

  I stared at her defiantly, not saying a word to stop him.

  “There’s a piece of glass. I can’t get a good enough grip. Hang on. I’ll grab some tweezers,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  Bryn started to move away, but paused when he passed Edie. He spun and squinted. “She’s here. Your aunt.” He took a step forward, and Edie floated back, away from him. He put his thumb to his mouth and licked my blood off it very deliberately.

  “Yuck!” I said, but the power arced between us with a sizzling energy that stole my breath.

  “What do you want?” he demanded, staring at Edie now that he could see her using my magic.

  “You’ll leave her alone, Lyons,” she said. “Or you’ll pay the price.” A funnel of icy air spun around us.

  I reached for Bryn’s arm, but was too late to stop him.

  “Dead to rights,” Bryn snapped, clenching his fist on the air.

  Edie’s scream shattered the quiet and then the green light that usually formed an orb faded in shreds.

  “Bryn, no!”

  He looked at me with dark blue-gray eyes. “She’d be wise not to threaten me. She’s a powerful spirit, but she’s dead, and I know death magic. I learned my lesson the hard way, but I learned it well.”

  “Bryn, she’s my family. Whatever else she is, she’s watched over me since I was a baby. I can’t let you hurt her.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Please don’t make me choose,” I said.

  “I’m not the one who’s making you choose. I’ll share you with your family. They need to learn to share you with me.” He walked away. “I’ll be back.”

  Merc licked up a bloody smudge from the tile.

  “Merc, don’t. That’s all mixed with dirt.”

  He looked between the smudges and me, clearly undecided. Since he ate dirty rodents, lizards, and birds all the time and used his tongue to give himself a bath, I guess I could see his point.

  Bryn returned, and I said, “Can I ask you something about your mom?”

  “Yeah,” he said, pulling a chair over so that he was sitting in front of me with my foot on his lap.

  “Did she know John Barrett?”

  “John Barrett? Not that I know of.” He held my ankle firmly, which was good because I tried to jerk it back when he dug the glass out with the tweezers. The sharp pain died down to a throb when he finished.

  “That hurt!”

  “Sorry.” He bent forward and kissed the top of my foot, sending a warm swirl of magic up my leg. He held up the shard, which was at least an inch thick. “Had to get it out.” He tossed the piece of glass into the trash. “You want a couple swallows of whiskey before we wash out the wound?”

  I wrinkled my nose at the thought of the stinging pain that would go along with cleaning the cut.

  Bryn opened a cupboard and took down a crystal decanter. He set two glasses on the counter and put a double shot in each. He handed me a glass and swallowed his in a couple of gulps.

  When he turned to the counter, he set the glass in the sink and braced himself there for a moment. “I know family’s important, Tamara. I promise you, no one understands that better than I do.” His breath came out in a ragged sigh. “But where is yours when you need them?”

  I took a swallow of the smooth woodsy scotch, and it made me cough a little. “Gone,” I said. I didn’t bother to tell him that Aunt Melanie couldn’t come because she was trapped and Momma couldn’t come because she was underhill with the faeries.

  When they’d left, I was still living a normal human life. They didn’t know that I’d get my powers and have to face werewolves and warlocks and all. On the other hand, they’d left me alone.

  “Gone,” he echoed. “You’re supposed to face the Conclave alone. And I’m supposed to give up what I want without a fight.”

  I drank the rest of the scotch. “Yeah, I guess.” I licked my lips, which were numb from the liquor.

  “Giving up what I want is not something I do.”

  Chapter 24

  I kept expecting dawn to burn through the fog, but it didn’t. I sat on the bed, looking out the window, uneasiness tickling my bones. It was like the sun hadn’t risen at all.

  “Darkness,” Bryn said. “One of the ten plagues of Egypt, if memory serves.”

  I clucked my tongue. “People in Duvall aren’t going to handle this well. They’re going to need reassurance. You should tell the mayor and the city council to start calling folks, to tell them everything’s going to be okay.”

  “If I call them and they tell me that I’m wanted for questioning in Gwen’s murder, I’ll have to go in to the police station. But if I keep my cell phone off, I can say the battery died so I missed my messages. It’s called plausible deniability.”

  “Right, good lawyer thinking.” I chewed my lip. “My cell phone’s in a grave or a pile of dirt in the Macon Hill Woods where Gwen buried me. If anybody’s trying to reach me, I’ve got plausible denial-ability, too. I also have plausible missing-my-important-messages-ability. What if someone needs me?”

  He smiled. “The mayor, the city council, the police, and the volunteer firefighters are all still in town, Tamara.”

  “Yeah, but they were all in town last week, and who had to fight the werewolves and faeries?” I demanded. “You and me, that’s who,” I said as if he needed reminding.

  He picked up the house phone from the dresser and set it on the bed next to me.

  “Keep it short, and don’t call anyone who could trace the call.”

  “The second part’s no problem,” I said, punching in my friend Georgia Sue’s number. “But Georgia Sue never had a long conversation that wouldn’t have been better if it’d gone on for another forty minutes.”

  “Hello?” Georgia said hesitantly.

  “It’s Tammy Jo,” I said.

  “Tammy Jo? I been callin’ you! Everyone has! Girl, where’s your phone?”

  “I lost it.”

  “Tammy Jo, you can’t believe what people are saying. It’s just silly is what it is. Of course, you’re not a Satan-worshipper! Everybody knows on Horror Movie Weekend, you closed your eyes through every minute of Halloween. And that Freddy Jooger from A Nightmare on Elm Street nearly scared you to death.”

  “Freddy Krueger.”

  "Whatever. I’m just sayin’. After that, am I really supposed to believe you’d give Satan, of all people, a jingle? Please! I told Jenna and her friends that I’ve known you since we were two years old and that I was your maid of honor for heaven’s sake. You got married in a church. Well, I guess the marriage didn’t work out in the end, but it’s not like you’d thumb your nose at God on purpose. I just don’t believe that for a minute.” She finally took a breath. “Now, you haven’t gotten mixed up with Satan, have you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Now see, I knew that. All right, so come on over to my house. We’ll get Kenny and Zach’s brother to take us over to set the record straight with Reverend Fuller.”

  “That’s a really good idea. Maybe later today or first thing tomorrow, I can fit that in.”

  “Oh, Tammy Jo, I really think we need to clear things up right away. You know how some people can get. Not everyone mind you, but some people are quick to think the worst. Do you know that Miss Cookie hung a cross in the window of the bakery just to prove that her Devil’s Food Cake isn’t really the work of you-know-who?”

  “For the love of Hershey.”

  “You know how people can be. They get carried away, and that Jenna’s a real pistol, loaded for gossip and firing with both barrels.”

  “What are people saying about the fog?”

  “Well, that it’s a sign that the world’s coming to an end, of course. You know that group on Sycamore always says that. The car wash m
achine breaks down. It’s a sign. A couple of flower-beds die. It’s a sign. At this rate, the world would’ve ended twenty-seven times since August. This fog is just weather, that’s all. It can’t always be sunny. That’s not normal. This is Texas, not California. We go in for a little rain and fog now and again. I’ll tell you what else: Kenny’s been telling people flat out, ‘Look if it’s the end days, you’d better get to praying instead of spreading gossip about a girl who’s never done any harm to you and yours.’ ”

  I smiled. Georgia’s husband, Kenny, was a good friend to me. After we got past the Conclave and their plagues, I’d have to take him a blackberry pie, his favorite.

  “Besides, we all read Revelations. If it’s the end times, where are the four cowboys of the apocalypse? Shouldn’t they be trotting down Main Street? I’ll tell you, I’m getting so sick of people quoting scripture willy-nilly. The Bible ain’t a country song with twenty-five lines. It’s complicated and we’d better be careful about how we interpret it. Maybe God’ll hear those Sycamore folks calling everything a sign, and He’ll start thinking Duvall’s ready for the end when there’s plenty of us who aren’t. We just got that brand-new jukebox for Jammers, and people are enjoying the heck out of it. All I’m saying is, I don’t think we should give God any ideas about ending things. Just let Him take His time. He’ll do it when He’s ready.”

  I smiled. "When you’re right, you’re right,” I said.

  Bryn tapped his wrist to remind me that I was supposed to keep it short.

  “Georgia Sue, I’ve got to go, but let me ask you one more quick thing.”

  "What’s that, sugar?”

  "Is everything quiet at the police station? They’ve seemed kind of out of sorts and strapped for help lately. I’d hate to think of them being overwhelmed with Zach gone and some of the guys on light duty after last week.”

  "So far as I know everything’s fine. They’re still investigating that shoot-out at the benefit, but they seem to be handling it just fine. They’re sure mad. Wouldn’t want to be anyone who was involved in planning that disaster. They say one of those gunmen was kin to Mindy Glusky who’s from Dyson. He’s part of some nutty survivalist group that spends every weekend in the woods training for a war against the government or, you know, whoever turns up. I guess they had a whole arsenal out there! Mindy says she might have mentioned all the strange goings-on around Duvall to some people from Dyson, but that she never expected anyone to come to Duvall to check things out, let alone to bust in on our benefit with guns. I’m not sure that the sheriff believes her though.”

  I definitely don’t! Maybe Mindy hadn’t expected the gunmen to crash the benefit so violently, but she had definitely given them my name and told them I was a witch or they wouldn’t have been looking for me in the first place. I wondered if Jenna and Lucy had been in on the plan to involve the militia guys.

  “Well, I hope they solve it. I have to go, so I’ll talk to you later,” I said and hung up. I looked at Bryn. “They haven’t found Gwen’s body yet.”

  Turns out having the sky totally obscured is unsettling to someone with celestial magic, so Bryn spent the morning working on a spell that wouldn’t drain his power, but would be powerful enough to overcome the fog. He also wanted to avoid getting a whopper headache from Barrett’s magical backlash when he cast it. A pretty tall order.

  Bryn being busy was actually a good thing because it meant I could slip out without him noticing. I’d decided that I was going to get the Cassandra brooch back before the end of the day. I hadn’t figured out how yet, but I had never let lack of a firm plan stop me. The trouble was that even if I got someone to get John Barrett out of his room, where I suspected I’d find the brooch, Barrett would feel me cross the wards on the room and come rushing back like Gwen had. And even though I didn’t have a set plan, not getting caught in the middle of a burglary was sort of a standing goal of mine.

  I drove to my house. The midday darkness was eerie, even with the streetlights still on. I spotted a couple of fender benders in my neighborhood.

  The construction guys were busy working. Apparently they weren’t going to let a little thing like a plague of darkness get in the way of a paycheck. I decided they were right about the fact that we should all keep to our usual routine, so I ate half a bag of Hershey’s miniatures to raise my blood chocolate level.

  Despite the fact that I was limping on my sore foot, they didn’t pay me much mind as I found the package from Aunt Melanie, which was far heavier than I’d expected. I loaded it into my trunk, then went back in and cleaned out my cupboards of all Aunt Mel’s herbs. I carried the two shopping bags full of plant extracts and essential oils to my car and placed them carefully in the trunk surrounded with a couple of extra bags of my clothes.

  Just as I shut the trunk, a flashlight beam caught me in the eyes. I jumped and reached for my gun, but stopped when a woman’s voice said, “Hey there, Tammy Jo. I’m so glad I ran into you!”

  My hand hovered at the small of my back as I squinted. Was this a new DeeDAW member?

  “Marsha Crane of Crane Realty. Your friends from England mentioned that you’ve been thinking about moving, and, with their interest in Duvall properties, I thought I’d have a look at your house.”

  What the Sam Houston? “The house isn’t for sale, and it’s not going to be for sale.”

  “Okay,” she said cheerfully, “but just remember that if your property goes on the market late, the buying frenzy may be over, and you won’t be able to get the best price. Just today I’ve gotten two new listings. It’s going to become a buyers’ market soon, and I just want you to have all the information you need. They were specifically interested in your house, or I wouldn’t be here. It’s a good opportunity for you to get—”

  “Not. For. Sale. And you shouldn’t be rushing into any sales between townspeople and out-of-town visitors. I’ve heard those out-of-towners don’t have nearly the capital they pretend to,” I said, though I hadn’t heard any such thing. I figured that since she was in sales, she wouldn’t want buyers who couldn’t buy.

  “Uh-huh. Well, I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but the bank they’re using in Dallas confirmed that ten million dollars was wired from London. Now, would you mind if I took a quick peek inside your house? I’m interested in how the renovations are coming along.”

  “Yes, I would mind,” I said, blocking her way. I gave her arm a tug to turn her around. I pointed down the driveway to where I assumed she’d parked her car. “Go on now.”

  She clucked her tongue in disappointment and stalked off.

  I climbed in my car and had just about made it off my street when someone tapped my back bumper with their car. Probably Marsha. I knew there couldn’t be much damage, so I just waved a hand out the window in a “Don’t worry about it” gesture. Apparently though whoever it was did want to worry about it because she followed me. Not an easy task in the foggy dark.

  When I finally pulled over, I kept a sharp eye on the rearview mirror. The moment I saw Lucy and Jenna Reitgarten emerge, I put my foot back on the gas pedal. I zoomed around the corner with a white-knuckle grip.

  Flipping my high beams on and off, I barreled along to the main intersection. I couldn’t see anyone coming in the crosswise traffic, but then I couldn’t see ten feet in front of me. I held my breath and made the turn.

  I exhaled and slowed down, not wanting to come up on another car too fast to stop. I shook my head. It was hard having a high-speed chase while going only five miles per hour, but there it was.

  I looked in my rearview for headlights, but didn’t see any. Then I heard metal crumpling. I jumped at the sound, but my car kept driving smoothly ahead. The crash was behind me.

  Lucy and Jenna. Well, that’s what they got for coming after me.

  I wondered who they’d run into. For some reason, I pictured it being a police car full of deputies coming to get me for questioning. I pictured them comparing notes with the Reitgartens and comin
g to the conclusion that I was a public menace. I shuddered. A vivid imagination . . . not always a good thing.

  I only went down a few blocks on Main Street before pulling into the parking lot of the ice cream shop, which was closed for winter. I maneuvered my car behind a Dumpster for maximum camouflage and popped the trunk. Retrieving the big box, I opened it and peered inside. A pair of old spellbooks. My heart raced. Family spellbooks. Finally!

  I took out the top one, fingering the brown leather cover with the gold M embossed on it in fancy script. I opened it and scanned the pages. There were recipes and spells for truth serum, sleep serum, and memor y-enhancement serum. Spells for finding things and for cloaking things. Potions for good luck, bad luck, a flawless complexion, silky hair, and seventeen different protection spells to guard against all kinds of dangers. And not once did a spell call for anything impossible to come by like the tooth of a beheaded monarch or a chunk of chain mail as my medieval spellbook often did. At the top of each page was the name of the spell and the initials of the witch who’d written and perfected it. Occasionally there were handwritten notations and addendums.

  I set the book on the passenger seat and looked in the box at the other book. The custom cover had two large letters in fancy script. They were intertwined. L and E. Lenore and Edie. My heart sped up. Aunt Mel had sent me Edie’s very own book. Edie must have known, must have agreed to let me use it. That made me feel as good as Merc with a mouthful of lizard.

  I flipped it open and found flowers pressed into the opening pages. Poetry and verses from their favorite writers. Photographs. At first I thought it was just a scrapbook, but then I realized that each page contained a concealed pocket. I drew out the hidden contents, one by one.

  All sorts of spells for generating power and doing various things . . . the most important of which were the ones for conjuring spirits, doing glamours, seeing into the future, and attaching a soul to a beloved object.

  I hugged the book to me. Getting family spells was as exciting as finding buried treasure, and I suddenly knew how I was going to search John Barrett’s room without tripping the security wards. I was going to get him to invite me in.