Unruly Magic (#2 Stella Mayweather Paranormal Series)

by Camilla Chafer

  “She was stabbed,” I said, watching carefully for her reaction.

  Chyler made a noise that was uncomfortably wedged somewhere between a squeal and a sob. “Oh my God!”

  “I’m sorry.” It didn’t get any more simple than that. What else could I say? “So how many people want that book of yours?”

  “My aunts, the council... I don’t know who else, Stella.”

  “I guess that doesn’t narrow it down much.”

  “Not at all,” Chyler wailed as she threw herself back down on the log and picked at the bark. “Can we go to your place? Maybe you can do some kind of spell on me? I don’t ... I ... I feel.” Chyler’s whole body shuddered and she lurched forward. I was just hovering my hand over her back, wondering if she’d passed out or was going to throw up on her shoes (and should I hold her hair?) when she sat up, back totally straight and beamed at me. She rolled her shoulders around and laced her fingers together stretching her arms like she’d just gotten up after a long, lazy lie down.

  ‘Stella,’ she grinned, like we hadn’t just been having a very uncomfortable conversation. She looked at the bark in her hand and flicked it to the floor then shook her head so her hair fell back in shimmering waves across her back. There were little twigs caught in it and bits of dust that gave her a slightly unkempt tree nymph look. I wondered how rough the abandoned house was that she was hiding in.

  I peered at her. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine! So, what were we talking about?”

  “Your mom.”

  “Oh, right. Whatever!”

  “Whatever?” I repeated, my brows knitting together in concern.

  “Yeah. You know what we should do. We should lay a trap for anyone who comes looking for me.” Chyler jumped up. “Yes, that’s what we should do. I bet you could lay down some pretty cool magic. Like a booby trap?”

  I ignored the sudden about-face in Chyler’s temperament and asked the obvious. “Why would I do that?”

  “Well...” Chyler wrinkled up her face like a pug trying to fathom if it could get a treat simply by raising a paw. “Because they’re going to come looking for me and we should get rid of them straight away. They’re going to hurt me and you’re not going to let that happen. Are you?” She tossed her head and stared straight at me.

  “Well, no.” I was peering curiously at her, slightly incredulous that there was no sign of the grief that had consumed her just moments before. It was like she couldn’t remember having the conversation we’d just had. I had Chyler down as a typical teenage but not one that was so scatterbrained that she could be heartbroken of learning of her mom’s passing one moment, and then completely unperturbed the next. Maybe she had some kind of brain injury. I couldn’t imagine why else she would have lost interest so fast.

  “Fantastic. Maybe we should go back to your house right now and we can start laying traps. I bet you could take out a whole bunch of them by laying charms around the house.”

  I gaped at her. “Are you serious? For a start I don’t know anything about charms. Secondly, I’m not about to booby trap my house. What if someone got hurt?”

  “Well, that’s the whole point.” Chyler blinked furiously and a tear trickled down her cheek but didn’t make any move to brush it away. Instead her chest heaved a bit and she looked like she was going to break out crying. As if to make her point, she sniffled, “I thought you were on my side.”

  “I want to help you and find out what’s going on.” I got off the log, brushing off microscopic pieces of not quite dry bark, and started stretching to warm my muscles back up. I kept my eyes on Chyler the whole time. “But I’m not going to try and attack a bunch of strangers, even if they do come to my house.”

  “Maybe you’re just not that good a witch.” Chyler stopped sniffing and smirked at me instead, a nasty look passing over her eyes.

  “Why don’t you go back to where you’re staying and I’ll keep finding out what’s going on.” I kept my voice even and firm, but what I really wanted to do was shake some sense into her. Chyler was starting to worry me.

  “I think we should go to your house. And I think you should help me. Right. Now!” Chyler all but stamped her foot on the grassy verge.

  “I don’t think it’s safe to take you to my house yet. I’m just asking you to be patient.” Besides, with Evan there, and Étoile, Seren and David due thanks to my open invitation, I didn’t want to risk some kind of showdown before I had worked out some of the answers. Or, at least some of the questions. I didn’t want Chyler being taken into custody when I didn’t know what that even meant, and I didn’t want her going in all magical hackles raised before I knew how to help her. And by helping her, I certainly wasn’t going to hurt my friends, or put them in danger. There had to be another way.

  “I don’t think you get it, Stella, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you...” Chyler raised her hand and her mouth started to move in a strange tongue, something that sounded vaguely Latinate but otherwise alien to me.

  With a circular motion of my hand I shielded myself in a soft glow that hovered around me. The shield would stop any magic hurting me and was an easy, if not energy sapping, mechanism that Evan had taught me months ago. I’d not used it until now. It would have been pointless against a witch of Eleanor Bartholomew’s strength but Chyler was just a kid. I braced myself as I dropped my voice an octave to warn her. “Chyler, I don’t know what you think you’re doing but this is not the way to get me to help you.”

  Chyler paused for a moment then stopped, dropping her hand limply by her side. “I’m so sorry. I’m just, like, really anxious right now.”

  “I’ll find you when I know something. Don’t just pop up behind me again.”

  “Why not?” Chyler had the bad grace to look offended.

  “Because it’s scary and I don’t want you to do that.” And you’ve pissed me off, I thought, but I didn’t say it out loud.

  Chyler wrinkled her nose. “Fine.”

  “I’ll be in touch. Don’t do anything stupid.” I didn’t wait for an answer. Instead I started to jog back towards my house, keeping the shield even and steady the whole time.

  “I’m really sorry,” Chyler shouted behind me. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

  Without looking back I waved a hand and powered on a bit faster. I didn’t check to see if she looked sincere. I was pretty certain she wasn’t.

  Evan was dressed and had set himself up on the kitchen table with his laptop and cell phone by the time I got back. He’d mentioned something about checking on his staff.

  “Hi,” he said, getting up straight away to kiss me. When he drew back, his face puzzled, he asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Sure,” I smiled weakly. “I’m just going to change.”

  “You run every day?”

  I nodded then laughed. “I try to, at least. Mostly I just huff and puff.”

  “Maybe I can come with you tomorrow?”

  “I’d like that.” I squeezed his hand, kissed him again because I still couldn’t quite believe he was still here, and stepped back so I could turn on my heel and head through to my bedroom, peeling off my running clothes as I went so I could toss them in to the laundry hamper on the way.

  Chyler’s behaviour puzzled me while I redressed in jeans and a soft sweater in a sugary lilac that would make my green eyes pop. One minute she was a scared teenager on the run, the next she wanted to lay down traps and attack anyone who wanted to come near her. I kind of got it. I knew what it was like to be scared, but I also had another side of the argument to consider. She was a stranger to me and my friends thought she was dangerous. I didn’t know what I could do without betraying the trust of someone. I could turn Chyler over straight away and let someone else deal with her and whatever problems she brought, or I could try and help her and lie, not so much to my friends’ faces, but certainly by omission. The weight of the decision sat heavily on my shoulders. Chyler’s behaviour puzzled me: one moment she seemed terrified and desp
erate, the next she was action and couldn’t care less. Something was wrong, that much I knew.

  “What are you doing?” I asked Evan as I stood in the kitchen after getting changed. I was running a brush through my hair, enjoying the feeling. I liked the idea of having long hair again. A series of shoddy room lets with appalling bathrooms had convinced me to trim it severely a couple of years ago, but now I had my own place and could take the time to look after it, I could grow it out. That certainly put a smile on my face.

  Evan barely glanced up. “Looking for more information about Chyler Anderson.”

  “Online?”

  “You’d be surprised at what you can find.” He turned the laptop around and I bent down to look at the screen. A virtual yearbook was open and I could see a snapshot of Chyler. “She was a popular girl. Clever, too. Cheerleader, debate team captain, volunteered at local hospices.” He tapped the mouse pad and changed screens so I could see a newspaper clipping with a picture of the family. Chyler was wearing a strapless blue dress with low heeled blue pumps. She sat perfectly upright, knees together and hands in her lap, the picture of poise. Actually, she seemed to have that down to a tee. All her pictures, even the casual ones, were frame-worthy, like she always knew she had to sit properly and be ready to plaster on a smile. “Her family were all active in supporting their community, made good money, sat on charity committees and were well thought of. Some witches like to be very active like this; they think it makes them less of a target if they have a solid community around them.”

  “Are the whole family witches?”

  “Yes to the mother, no to the father and brother, though it seems like they knew and were okay with it.”

  “Any chance they could have been jealous? Maybe they wanted to hurt Chyler’s mom?”

  Evan shook his head. “They seemed to be a very happy family.”

  “You can never tell though, right?” I was thinking about Eleanor and Robert Bartholomew. They had seemed like the perfect power couple with a long marriage and a big bank account, but they had been far from happy.

  “I guess not.”

  “I don’t get why everyone thinks Chyler killed her mother.”

  “Chyler’s mom – Andrea, was her name – had talked to their local coven about Chyler dabbling in stuff she wasn’t supposed to. She was worried about her and said she was going to talk to her, try to make her understand that what she was doing could have serious consequences. Before they could come up with a way of helping her, Andrea was dead and Chyler was the only one in the house at the time. By the time Andrea’s husband found her, Chyler was gone.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “And that’s why she’s suspect number one?” Also: Andrea Anderson? I wondered if anyone had ever called her Andy, but that was a moot point.

  Evan nodded.

  “Seems to me like everyone is jumping the gun.” I switched streams of thought. “I just don’t get why you’re looking for her though. I thought you weren’t keen on working with witches.” Evan had explained when we’d first met that he was only teaching me as a favour to Robert Bartholomew, who had quietly tried to help me as much as he could, despite his own insurmountable problems.

  “I’m not looking for Chyler so much as here to protect you. You do not want a bunch of covens landing on your doorstep. Étoile and Seren were the ones who were asked to do some investigating into Chyler. Being here is like killing two birds with one stone for them.”

  “Charming,” I muttered. “So you’re not going to help them at all?”

  Evan leant back in his chair and stretched his long legs, folding his hands behind his head in such a way that I got an eyeful of muscular biceps. “Not if it gets in the way of helping you.” There was a piece of me that was really pleased at that; that Evan was here for me, absolutely for me and his being here was not just a by product of some witchy shenanigans. But I couldn’t help the niggling feel that something wasn’t right with Chyler and now I might get in the way of anyone helping her by not ‘fessing up.

  “If you were Chyler what would you do?” I asked.

  “We know that she was looking for you because they found a trace of a spell she cast when she disappeared, so if I was her, I’d wait until you were on your own and then try and talk to you. I’d be near the house waiting somewhere for that chance.”

  “And why me. Why not some other outsider?”

  “Just about all witches are connected in some way. You’re not because you weren’t brought up with this. There’s a good chance Chyler will have heard about you and would risk trying to get in touch.

  “Okay. What if she got the chance to talk to me?”

  Evan thought for a minute. “I’d ask for protection. I’d tell you I was innocent. I’d ask you to help me.”

  So far, so true. I asked, “What if I helped her? What could I do?”

  “You could use your magic to mask her presence. You could fight on her behalf. If anyone attacked, you’d stop them.” Evan seemed a lot surer of me than I was. Another plus point in his favour.

  “Who would attack?” I asked, because Chyler had intimated that a lot of witches would.

  “Andrea’s coven either to avenge, or capture. I don’t think they want to hurt her, but it really depends on how accountable they find her for Andrea Anderson’s death. Other covens are a risk. Remember, Chyler almost certainly has that book and that makes her even more interesting, especially given the troubles witches are having.”

  “You all talk about that like something really bad is going down.” Evan just looked at me as I pulled up the chair next to him. “Okay, fine, something bad is happening. What’s so important about the book? What if she just gave it away?”

  “She can’t. The book is bound to her. So long as she is alive, and there’s magic there, that book will stay with her. As for the book itself, it’s very old and it’s drawn power from every witch who has ever held it. The spells it contains would be very strong, and magnified, if someone were to use them. If Chyler was gone, the book would transfer to someone else in her line and that would make them a very powerful witch.”

  “Can only witches who use spell craft use it?”

  Evan shook his head. “Any witch but they would have to be blood relatives, unless there’s some clause. Not any other supernaturals though. I couldn’t touch it, for example, never mind use it.”

  “Is it likely that the witches might be more interested in the book than in Chyler?”

  “It’s a possibility. We’ll have to ask David when he gets here. He knows more about spell craft than any of us.”

  “Hmm. When are you going to tell more about this daemon stuff?” I asked, latching on to his claim that he couldn’t touch the book as an excuse to find out more.

  Evan leaned forward and smiled at me. “What do you want to know?”

  I leant forward too, like we were conspiring, and resisted the urges to rest my elbows on the surface. “Anything. Everything. I don’t even know the questions to ask. I know you’re not evil, like, you’re not like a demon or the devil.”

  Evan clicked on the mouse pad a couple of times then closed the lid of the laptop. “Daemons, like me, look like humans, act like them. We eat, drink, have sex, like any normal human would. But we’re not human. We can use magic, like you can, so I wouldn’t call you exactly human either. Daemons come in all shapes and sizes and as many of us are good as bad. It probably tips the scales towards the bad, unfortunately, and good is just a loose way of saying not completely malicious.”

  I shivered. “And what about magic? I’ve seen some things you can do but that’s not all?”

  Evan shook his head and as he did so drawers opened and closed, then the cabinet doors did the same. Overhead, the light bulb flickered on and off. “I can move things and control things.” I felt my chair slide back and then I rose off it, into the air and spun slowly around. I felt weightless and I had no control of my limbs as I was suspended there. I gazed down at Evan in surprise. “I can move you. I c
ould move you to Asia if I wanted,” he said.

  “Please don’t,” I laughed and he set me down and pulled me, and the chair, with invisible fingers back to where we’d been. I stretched my arms and flexed my toes just to be sure I was in control again.

  “I can disappear.” Before I could look up, he’d gone and a moment later Evan whispered against my ear, his breath cool against my skin. “And reappear.” An instant later and he was back in his chair. “You’ve seen me heal. Human injuries mean little too me. Broken bones, cuts, sprains, I’ll heal in minutes.”

  “Handy,” I murmured.

  “Magical injuries take more time,” he pointed out. “But what could kill you, will probably only disable me. It’s very, very hard to kill a daemon.”

  “Lucky you. What else?”

  “I can summon fire.” Evan held his hand out to me and uncurled it so his palm faced up. Flames erupted. Not a little candle flame, but great billows of red hot fire that heated the air around us and in the centre of it all his hand remained untouched. He snapped his hand into a fist and the fire was gone leaving me gazing in wonder. “And I can get rid of it. But I don’t think you’d appreciate a demonstration in your house.

  “However, my real skill is tracking people. All I need is their scent and I can find them, wherever they are. And because I’m virtually indestructible I’m in demand to a lot of supernaturals when they need confidential things done.”

  “What kind of confidential things?” I asked, intrigued.

  “Taking prisoners. Transporting goods, contracts. Anything that needs discretion.”

  “Why don’t they just hide from you? You stand out, in a good way.” I grinned. “And you’re magic, I can feel you’re different so others must do too.”