Darkness sped before her eyes, and she reached for West. He slumped against her shoulder. Did he see the sudden pinwheels of light?
When her feet touched solid ground, she gazed at her own bedroom, looking at it from inside her closet-door mirror.
Strange. Surreal.
The image of home.
“Ian,” she said, using his Christian name. “We’re here.”
West mumbled and pitched forward, falling through the spinning circle on the mirror. He’d finally lost consciousness, giving up the fight.
Olivia stepped through the portal and took him in her arms. The glass solidified, closing off the world to Zinna’s dimension.
She could hear voices in other parts of the loft. But there wasn’t anyone else in her room. For now it was just her and West.
She removed his shirt and traced the arrowhead under his skin.
The nightmare wasn’t over yet.
Olivia still hadn’t saved him.
The silence was deafening. The people gathered around West’s bedside were at a loss for words, especially after Olivia had told them who the Slasher was.
Allie looked ill, but Olivia understood how her sister felt. She’d wanted to vomit when she’d first learned the truth, too.
Muncy and Riggs hadn’t discussed how they were going to apprehend a woman hiding out in a witch dimension, but it was on their minds. It was on Olivia’s mind, too. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—let her mother go free.
But first things first.
West was still unconscious.
“How do I remove the arrowhead?” Olivia asked Derek.
“You? You’re not strong enough to do this.”
“Why not?” she challenged. “Before I went to the witch dimension, you told me I could heal West. So what’s changed? What’s different?”
He blew out a heavy sigh. “I knew West would be ill, but I hadn’t counted on an object-intrusion spell. Even if an experienced shaman sucks it from his body, it’s extremely dangerous.”
“For who? West?”
He nodded. “And the shaman. If the medicine man fails, the witch weapon will enter his body and he’ll die right along with the patient.”
Olivia smoothed West’s towel-dried hair and felt her heart constrict. She’d already stripped off the special agent’s wet clothes and bathed him with the herbal mixture again. But it hadn’t done any good. He lay on her bed, wearing a pair of boxers and burning up with a fever.
She, too, had changed into dry clothes, needing to free herself of the swamp. She glanced at Kyle, who was tending to West’s arm, wrapping the disinfected wound with gauze and adhesive tape.
“I can help you find a shaman,” he said. “I can go back to my rez—”
“No.” She interrupted her former boyfriend. She wasn’t about to allow a medicine man from Kyle’s reservation to get involved. Or any rez for that matter. “I’m not going to ask a shaman to risk his life for something my mother did.”
Allie moved closer. Up until now, she’d been gazing out the window, rubbing the chill that racked her bones. “Our mother,” she said. “Yvonne gave birth to me, too.”
Olivia met her sister’s gaze. “Then you understand why I won’t ask a medicine man to do this?”
“Yes. But that doesn’t mean I’m not afraid for you.”
“Hold on. Wait.” Derek watched Yvonne’s daughters with wariness in his eyes, objecting to their conversation. “I just said Olivia wasn’t strong enough.”
“And you’re wrong.” Allie let out the breath she’d been holding. “My sister can remove that object, but only if we support her. If we believe in her.”
“West trusts me,” Olivia said. “Don’t you see, Derek? I’m the one who’s meant to do this.”
“Maybe.” He frowned at the mirror, at the circle he’d drawn onto the glass. “But there’s more at stake than West’s life. Or yours, for that matter. If the healing is successful, the witch who inserted the object will suffer. So that means this affects Yvonne’s fate, too.”
Muncy and Riggs perked up. Both detectives gazed at Derek. “How will it affect her?” Riggs asked. “What exactly will happen?”
“I’m not sure. There’s no ‘exactly’ in situations like this. First of all, she’s in a witch realm, so for all I know, she could be immune. But if she isn’t—” He paused, made a thoughtful expression. “It will probably kill her.”
The lady cop looked at Olivia. “Are you prepared to take your mother’s life?”
She thought about the gun she’d aimed at Yvonne. “If that’s what it comes down to.” She turned to Allie. “Are you still going to support me, even if Mom dies?”
Her sister frowned. “Yes, but—”
“But what?”
“I’ll be really upset if you and West die instead. If Mom gets away with all of this.” Allie crossed her arms, chilled again. “You can’t fail, Olivia. I can’t bear to lose you.”
“You won’t.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.” She leaned forward to embrace her sister, wondering if she had a right to make such a confident vow. There were no guarantees in life. But even so, Olivia had to believe in her power. She had to trust herself. “I’m stronger than Mom. I know I am.”
When they separated, Olivia addressed everyone in the room. “Allie was right about me needing your support. If anyone can’t handle this, then he or she should leave.”
“We can handle it,” Kyle said. He turned, looked around. “Right?”
Muncy agreed and so did Riggs. But Derek wasn’t ready to commit.
“How did you return from Zinna’s dimension?” he asked Olivia. “The ointment I put on your arms wasn’t waterproof. So how did you open the door?”
“I did it with positive energy.”
“Was West involved?”
“Yes. And another entity. A spirit guide, something that was trying to protect me. But it’s gone now. It used up all its strength in the witch dimension.”
“And that’s what you plan to accomplish here? A mass of positive energy?”
“Yes,” she said again. “Is that a problem for you?”
“I’m still torn between white and black magic,” he admitted. “And that could create an adverse effect. I don’t think I should stay. But I can still help.”
When she walked toward him, her shoes sounded on the floor, echoing lightly. “How? What can you do?”
“I can contact the members of my coven, and we can try to put a binding spell on Zinna, to keep her from retaliation.”
“Why haven’t you done that before?”
“Because if it doesn’t work, it will piss Zinna off even more.”
“And if it does work?” she prodded.
“It won’t last. Eventually she’ll regain her powers. But for now it’s all we’ve got.”
Yes, Olivia thought. It was better than nothing. And Derek, in spite of his inner struggle, was trying to do the right thing. To her, that made a difference. “Then I should wait to remove the arrowhead. Wait until you cast your spell.”
He nodded. “I’ll call you when it’s done.”
She offered him a hug, thanking him for caring. He shrugged and stepped back, but his skin was flushed, warmed by her sentiment.
“I’ll call you,” he said, gathering his supplies, breaking down the makeshift altar he’d used earlier, giving Olivia a chance to prepare for the object-intrusion ceremony.
She decided to ask Glenn to come over, to be part of the healing. He was, after all, the man her mother wanted to frame for the murders. And in spite of his affair with Yvonne, he deserved Olivia’s forgiveness. He’d only been a pawn, another person Yvonne had tried to destroy.
She got Derek’s attention before he left. “How will I know if my mother died? How will I know if removing the arrowhead affects her?”
“You’ll hear an explosion,” he said. “And then it will be over. She’ll be gone.”
“And if not?”
“Then it didn’t work.”
But it will, she thought. It had to. Because Olivia wasn’t about to let the Slasher get away with her crimes.
Derek kept his word. He called her several hours later. Of course, there was no way to know if his spell had been successful. Only time would tell.
West was still unconscious. The witch dimension had taken its toll. He didn’t have anything left to give.
Olivia glanced around, then locked gazes with Glenn. He’d arrived just a short while ago, bringing his heart with him. He was grateful for Olivia’s forgiveness, for her apology. Even now, after they’d embraced, they kept looking at each other, shedding the pain between them.
Finally she shifted her gaze. Along with Glenn, Allie, Kyle and the two detectives gathered around West. Family and friends. Positive energy. Even Samantha had joined them. The cat watched West through protective eyes.
But even so, this wasn’t a proper ceremony. Olivia wasn’t a shaman skilled at removing witch weapons nor had she employed Apache singers to assist her, to sing and drum. But she delved into her soul, chanting her own words. Whispering them in the sage-scented air.
She used cattail pollen on West, then put some on herself, as well. Her father’s eagle feathers remained close by. They’d survived the witch dimension. They’d protected her in the most unholy of places. She knew they would protect her now.
Olivia turned down the lights, and the candles on the nightstand flickered, shadowing West’s face, intensifying his features. If only he wasn’t so pale.
She sat next to him on the bed, leaned over and pressed her mouth to his ear. He didn’t stir, but she could feel his heart beating beneath his chest, thumping against the arrowhead.
“I love you,” she whispered. “You’re worth the risk.”
Ready to break the spell, to fight the battle between good and evil, she placed her lips on his skin.
And tried to draw the witch weapon from his body.
Nothing happened at first. But then he started to shake, violently, like a seizure.
The people gathered around West didn’t try to touch him. They knew it wasn’t their place to interfere, to interrupt the healing, no matter how traumatic it was.
Olivia held West while he shook, held him until her own body began to tremble, until the arrowhead tried to suck the life out of her.
West opened his eyes and stared at her.
She gazed back at him. She knew they were caught in the magic, trapped by the witch weapon that threatened to destroy them both.
But she refused to be afraid, to let fear consume her.
When West shot up and tried to reach for her, she went flying off the bed and hit the mirror. The glass rattled, jarring her, making her head hurt.
Colors burst in her mind, like a kaleidoscope exploding into a million pieces.
The arrowhead was trying to pierce her skin.
A woman screamed. A death-defying yell.
Was it her? Was she rebelling? Or was it a voice in her head?
She could still see her lover, like a faraway dream, reaching for her. But she couldn’t go to him.
She was pinned against the glass.
Olivia focused on West, on the intensity of his emotions, the depth of his need. As a silvery light surrounded her, she knew it was his energy, the struggle inside him.
He was trying so hard to be with her, but he wasn’t strong enough to move, to fight the magic. He was glued to the bed the way she was cemented to the mirror.
Death was only a breath away.
But was so was love. The warmth of family and friends. The belief that she was powerful enough to break the spell.
And she was.
She pulled free, rushing into West’s arms, letting him hold her, letting him draw from her strength.
It was over. They’d survived.
West didn’t speak. He just kept her close, their hearts pounding in unison. A man and a woman who’d defied the odds.
Olivia touched his cheek. His skin was cool. His fever had broken. But he needed to rest. She could see the exhaustion in his eyes.
A moment later the candles went out. The flames stopped burning. Allie turned up the lights, and they waited for the explosion. The sign that their mother was dead.
But there was nothing but silence.
“I’ll go back for her,” Olivia said. “I’ll bring her to justice.”
“Is that possible?” Allie asked.
“Mom said it wasn’t. But I have to try.” Olivia looked around, expecting resistance. But no one argued. No one debated what needed to be done.
“I’ll help you,” Allie said. “I’ll help you capture Mom. We’ll—”
Suddenly the room vibrated. Pictures rattled on walls; furniture teetered; the alarm clock fell off the nightstand.
And then the circle on the mirror spun, the door to Zinna’s dimension opening.
But it wasn’t the ancient witch who crashed into the room, who flew right at Olivia. It was Yvonne, and she was very much alive.
She dragged her oldest daughter onto the floor, trying to pull her into the witch dimension.
But Olivia knew it wouldn’t work. The arrowhead had brought Yvonne back. Her own magic had cursed her. It hadn’t killed her, but it had stripped away her powers.
“You can’t win.” Olivia rolled on top of her mother and aimed a gun at her head.
The room fell silent. The portal closed.
And for one horribly painful moment, Olivia and Yvonne stared at each other, childhood memories assaulting Olivia’s brain. Good memories, bad memories, a connection they shared.
But even so, she wanted to pull the trigger.
“Don’t do it,” a man said.
Olivia ignored the voice of reason. She knew it was Muncy. She could feel him moving closer, trying to defuse her emotions.
An eye for an eye, she thought. A tooth for a tooth. Why couldn’t she end it here? Why couldn’t she take the law into her own hands?
She looked up and saw Allie. Her sister had a gun aimed at Yvonne, too. The Magnum their father had used.
But Allie wouldn’t shoot, not unless Yvonne didn’t give them a choice.
Olivia couldn’t do it, either. Not like this. She couldn’t commit a cold-blooded murder.
She wasn’t like Yvonne.
“Take her,” she said to Muncy. “Get her out of my sight.”
The detective put Yvonne in handcuffs. She cursed her children, screaming that she should have killed them, too. That they deserved to die, just like the women she’d stabbed.
As the police arrested their mother, Olivia stood next to Allie, shoulder to shoulder, comforting each other without words.
A united front.
No matter what, they would always have each other.
The following morning Olivia awakened next to West. He slept soundly, as he’d done all night, looking beautifully rumpled. She smoothed his hair away from his face, and he swatted her hand, unaware of her affection. He probably thought she was a mosquito.
“You big lug.” She kissed his forehead and let him sleep.
Ready to start fresh, she reached for her robe and glanced at the closet door mirror. The circle Derek had drawn, the portal to the witch dimension, was gone. Erased, like a teacher’s chalkboard at the end of the day.
Anxious to see Allie, she went into her sister’s studio, where she knew the younger woman would be.
Allie stood quietly, gazing at the buffalo hide painting of their dad. Olivia moved forward, studying it, as well. Joseph looked magnificent in his traditional Sioux regalia and war weapons. Allie had done him proud.
“I finished it this morning,” her sister said. “Do you think he’s ready for the Ghost Road? Do you think it’s time?”
Olivia didn’t know. “I hope so.”
“Me, too.” Allie turned away from the painting. “How’s West?”
She thought about the way she’d held him last night, listening to him breathe. Grateful, so in
credibly grateful that he was alive. “He’s still sleeping.”
“But here we are. At the crack of dawn.” Allie stretched, rolling her shoulders. “Zinna hasn’t tried to retaliate. Derek’s spell must have worked.”
“So it seems.” Of course, how could they be sure? Their great-grandmother was an extremely powerful witch. Even Derek admitted that he couldn’t bind her forever. That her magic was nearly impossible to contain.
Allie tucked her hair behind her ears. She wore it loose, falling like ebony silk, spilling over a white nightgown. “I’ve been wondering about the man Zinna cursed.”
“That was almost a hundred years ago.”
“I know, but I can’t help but think about him.”
“He’s got to be dead by now, Allie.”
“What if he isn’t? What if Zinna cursed him to a hell dimension somewhere?” She frowned, then sighed. “Maybe he needs someone to save him.”
“And maybe it’s a curse that can’t be broken.” Olivia gazed at her sister, noticed how pretty the embroidery on her nightgown was. Flowers the color of cotton candy, leaves as green as a clover-dotted countryside. “Why don’t you focus on your angel instead? Have you started painting him?”
“My winged hunk? No. But I will.” She grinned. “He’s supposed to bang my brains out, remember?” Her smile fell. “I’m going to be ready for Zinna. I’m going to fight her the next time.”
Impressed, Olivia admired her sister. Her strength. Her determination. The female warrior she was sure to become. “Maybe your angel will help.”
Then again, who knew what the future held? Olivia’s premonitions only took them so far, and at the moment she had no idea when Zinna would return or what would happen when she did.
But Allie would be prepared. The thought gave Olivia comfort. “Do you want some breakfast? I can fix—” She stopped speaking.
A light caught her eye. She turned toward it and saw that the painting of their father was glowing.
“He’s here,” Allie said.
“Yes.” Their dad’s spirit was in the room, swirling around the picture, making the buffalo hide shimmer. Yet there was more, so much more, that captivated Olivia.
Always Look Twice Page 21
