The night sky sparkled like diamonds against black velvet as I dusted the snow from my Jeep. Birdie’s car was at the inn, but no one else’s. Likely everyone was at the Black Opal preparing for another Italian feast. That made me think of the cannoli that Angelica had made—the ones that seemed to bring a harmony to myself, Cin and Monique. The ones her cousin Lisa had made sure to save for us. I honed in on that experience. The taste of the sweet confection rushed back into my mouth. Pistachios and cream perfectly blended with flaky pastry. A jolt rushed through me so strong, it started the engine.
When I shook it off, I was left with a sharp knowledge that stuck in my brain like a pin. There was magic on the other side of Cinnamon’s family tree. I was certain of it.
I plugged the phone into the car charger, thinking of the passage in the Blessed Book again, the words “sheet music” running through my mind. I played my voicemail messages and backed out of the driveway, listening.
There was only one—from Tony. Cinnamon had gone into labor.
Chapter 40
I sped all the way to the hospital, my stomach fluttery. I was so excited to meet my tiny goddaughter that I could hardly keep from hooting and hollering.
The Jeep careened into the parking lot. I cut the engine, grabbed the phantom quartz, and ran through the doors of the hospital, dodging an old man in a wheelchair and a kid with a broken arm. I rushed to the front desk where Lynn sat talking on the phone. She held up one finger. I stood there, catching my breath as the crystal glowed and pulsed in my hand..
Lynn hung up the phone and looked up at me. “Hi Stacy, did you forget the room number already?”
“What do you mean?”
She gave me an odd look, blinked her sky blue eyes. “Why did you change clothes?”
I looked down at my jeans. What was she talking about?
“I thought what you had on earlier was cute. You can just go on back up. No need to check in.”
“Lynn, I haven’t—”
She cut me off, pointed over my shoulder. “Hey, isn’t that your dog?”
I turned to see Thor barking frantically outside the hospital doors, the white rabbit bouncing up and down next to him. The quartz grew hotter in my hand and I glanced at it. It was white, then pink like a sunset, then the fiery orange of hot coals.
Thoughts and images slammed at me all at once, physically shaking my entire body. Pain pierced my head as the pictures sped through my mind’s eye.
My cousin writhing in pain. The baby coming into this world. A woman who looked exactly like me holding her, hiding her in an oversized coat. Rushing out the door with her.
The shifter had taken my goddaughter.
Chapter 41
Lynn called out to me as I raced through the doors, but I didn’t look back.
“Where is she? Where’s the baby?” I shouted.
Thor didn’t hesitate, he just took off, the white rabbit jockeying on his back. My familiar sent me pictures of the river, and fear gripped my bones.
Thor and the rabbit headed north of the hospital, near the water’s edge, where there was no road. I chased after them, not bothering to get into the Jeep because I’d never get it down the steep embankment. Thor looked back every so often as I pumped my legs, making sure I was still behind him. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I honed my sight and my sense on the dog and the rabbit. The phantom quartz glowed in my hand, bright and tingly like a fourth of July sparkler.
I had no idea when Tony had called, but it must have been hours earlier, unless it had been a fast labor. No one had bothered to call me again, because naturally, they thought she was me. How long had she been there? I brushed the thought away like a gnat, because it didn’t matter now. All that was on my mind was finding that baby and the bastard who took her.
The river’s edge glistened in the moonlight as Thor made his way down the embankment. He was headed for the viaduct near Ruby Lane, where I knew there had once been an opening that led to the caves. His massive paws dug into the hill as he tore down it, making a wide right turn.
When I reached him, he was just about to charge through a narrow opening in an old rock wall that someone had recently dismantled. Very narrow. Too narrow for Thor’s bearish frame.
“Stop!” I yelled, and he did.
I reached the passageway just in time to see a few rocks tumble to the earth.
I turned to Thor. “Let me go in first, Big Man. You have to come in nice and easy. Okay?”
He snorted, his eyes laser sharp.
I took a few tentative steps inside the doorway, and a few rocks crumbled behind me. There was a huge boulder up ahead, wedged between the walls as if it were floating. I had to belly-crawl beneath it.
As soon as I did, the boulder collapsed into the earth. I turned around, about to shout Thor’s name when he gave a low bark, letting me know he was safe.
But I was trapped.
I didn’t want to yell again, didn’t want to alert the shifter to my presence, so I tugged at the threads of Fiona’s magic, sent Thor images about going for help. Chance, Leo, Tony, even Birdie and the aunts, Mom, Uncle Deck, anyone he could find. He didn’t send anything back. I hoped that meant he was on his way.
Steadily, I made my way through the passage, the dirt cold and rough against my fingers. The quartz glowed in my hand, twitching and jerking as if it couldn’t lead me to the baby fast enough.
And it couldn’t.
My heart thumped in my chest so loud I was certain that even people on the street above could hear it. It screamed in agony at the thought of my being so stupid, so careless, so caught up with imaginary monsters that I lost sight of the real ones.
I didn’t know why anyone would take the baby, but I knew—felt in my gut—that she wasn’t safe.
I glided along the wall, the earth dusting my head with dirt every few steps, rocks crunching beneath my feet. It was musty and damp and black as tar, save for the shine of the crystal. There was the stink of rot, decay, and the pungent scent of regret. It smelled like what I suspect zombies might smell like if they existed. Like a dungeon that had witnessed the suffering of thousands of souls. I reached out with a tentacle of magic, hoping to connect with the little one, trying to caress her cheek with soothing light and comforting energy. Trying to tell her that everything would be okay, that auntie Stacy would protect her no matter what. But I couldn’t feel her. Just a bitter emptiness.
I fought back a tear or two, replaced them with hardened stone and forged ahead.
Finally, I reached a gaping cavern–longer than a football field and nearly a hundred feet high. It dripped with stalagmites pointing down at me like giant daggers. Beyond that was a fork, one path veered right—the other shot to the left. A line from a Robert Frost poem trotted through my mind. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood. Except I didn’t want the one less traveled by.
The quartz was still glowing bright, and I stepped to the left first, then the right. There was no change in either direction. I slapped it a few times like you might a flashlight with failing batteries and tried again. Still no indication which path the kidnapper had followed.
I stood in the center of the cavern, set the quartz down between my feet and held my arms out. I dug as deep as I could, drawing on all the power I had and pushed the magic up and out of my hands, demanding it lead me to the child.
My fingers sizzled and popped and I felt myself grow dizzy and hot. One of the stalagmite spears shuddered and creaked in protest. It wrenched free from the hold the earth had on it and pierced the ground right between my toes. That’s when I felt a little pushback—a shove, forcing my magic back at me.
The shifter knew I was here.
There wasn’t much time left. Whatever the plan was, whatever reason the baby had been stolen, it was going to manifest soon.
That’s when the miner appeared.
Chapter 42
The miner stared at me, his eyes an eerie, smoldering crimson, his face withered, vacuous, mummy-like. H
e cocked his head to the side the way a dog does when it’s trying to comprehend. He took a step forward and I inched back, reached for the pocket knife that was my sword, although I didn’t know how it might stop a murderous ghost. I held it steady in my hand and clicked the side button. The blade exploded to its full length.
He shook his head and his entire form and the ground beneath my feet shuddered, nearly knocking me off balance.
The miner’s face transformed from shriveled mummy-flesh into features that were full, robust, life-like. His bald head sprouted a mop of ginger hair and his eyes flickered from blazing red to grassy green.
I swallowed hard, staring into the face of what had to be a member of my own clan, thinking of the legend Gladys had written about, wondering what he was going to do to me.
He lifted his arm slowly, carefully and I braced myself, readying for an attack. He pointed his finger, shifted his body and aimed it down the path that veered to the left.
No emotion emanated from him, nothing I could read. I had to rely on my instincts, and my gut told me to trust the ghost of the miner, that his intentions were pure. If he had done any of the things they said about him, he was repenting them now. He opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come. He pointed again, forcefully, ordering me to follow his instructions. I took a step and another, maintaining distance and eye contact.
From the other path came a thunderous roar and the scent of the sea, followed by the fishy stink of river water.
The spirit of my ancestor spun toward the right passageway, hatred and disgust clouding his eyes. He pointed at me again, mouthed, go!
I hurried down the path he directed me toward, and jumped on top of a boulder, just before a wall of water came crashing through the cave, a huge ship riding the wave. The water spilled onto the earth’s bed in foamy suds. It muddied the dirt floor before it evaporated into clouds of puffy steam. I tried to turn, to run toward the baby, but I was frozen in place, maybe even in another time. I had no control of my legs, of movement. My power was writhing in my stomach, but I couldn’t wrench it free. I could only watch as the ship came to a halt and a burly man with curly jet hair dropped anchor. The captain leapt from its bow and stalked to the miner, his face contorted with rage, as I stood there entranced in some kind of ghostly spell.
An argument quickly ensued, words I couldn’t hear, that erupted into a battle. Blow came to blow, shaking the muddy walls, as the spirits pummeled each other.
The miner grabbed the captain’s collar, pulled his arm back, and was about to deliver a knockout punch when the captain pointed to the ship.
The miner held his blow and looked over to the vessel, fist still formed to deliver an assault, when a woman with long auburn hair rose from the mist near the stern. Her hands were tied behind her back, her cheeks streaked with tears.
The miner’s face twisted in anguish as he contemplated their fate. He looked from his bride to the sneering captain, releasing the larger man. The captain stood and held his hand out, palm facing up.
The miner pulled a folded piece of paper from inside his pants pocket and handed it to the pirate. The captain unfolded it, assessing the contents, as a snake-like smile spread across his bearded face.
The miner rushed toward the woman on the ship. Just as he was about to climb aboard, the captain pulled out a dagger, lunged forward, and stabbed him in the back.
The woman’s eyes filled with horror as she threw her head back, and opened her mouth in a silent scream. Then I saw her necklace. She was wearing the Seeker’s locket.
Before I could process that, I heard the baby’s cries and somehow, whatever had held me captive released me from its grip.
I spun around and ran toward the tiny voice, darting through the cramped passage, ducking my head now and again. The phantom quartz blazed with light, then sputtered out as if its charge was failing.
I was deep beneath the city now, where only the worms lived, winding my way closer to Cinnamon’s child, led by the sound of her screeches.
The bowels of the earth finally spilled into another gaping cavern and I stopped, blinking my vision into focus. There were two more passageways beyond and a huge drop off to my left from which I could hear the flow of water.
In the center of the space stood a flat rock surrounded by fat pillar candles.
On top of the rock lay a pink blanket.
On top of the blanket was Cinnamon’s weeping child. Standing over her, back to me, was Evelyn Leary, a sword in her hand, pointed down at the baby.
Chapter 43
I charged at her, intending to take her down with a flat swing from my blade, but she sensed me. She spun around, sword in hand.
She came at me without saying a word, and I dodged a thrust of her sword that nearly skewered me. She took a fighter’s stance, the lines on her face deepening into a determination I’d never seen on anyone before. She stabbed at me again with power I wouldn’t have expected from a woman her age. Tisiphone’s voice rang in my ears. Never underestimate your opponent. I parried the blade with my own, our swords striking, sparking, the crush of metal against metal masking the sound of the water lapping below.
The candles flickered as the baby’s cries intensified. Evelyn jumped in the air, whirled around, and roundhouse-kicked me in the gut. The impact sent me scurrying backwards, and I landed on my ass, almost to the edge of the drop-off. I tried to scramble to my feet as she surged at me again, but I wasn’t fast enough, so I switched tactics. I fanned my sword out, attempting to slice her feet out from under her, but she leapt above it, then stomped on the blade, wrenching it from my hands. She kicked it backwards, and it sailed into a rock, bent like a boomerang.
I yanked the athame from my boot and plunged it into her foot. She screamed as blood pooled beneath her boot and I vaulted to my feet, rushing to retrieve my bent sword. Her energy flashed behind me and I spun around, blocking her blow. I caught the gleam of my dagger in her hand.
There was a crazed look in her eyes as she advanced on me, her injured foot dragging behind her. She wielded both weapons while we sparred. Our swords matched each other swing for swing, blade for blade, slice for slice, despite her bloody foot. Until I noticed that the baby’s cries had subsided and I cut my eyes to her.
That’s when Evelyn stabbed me with my own freaking knife. It ripped through my left thigh, cutting me to what felt like the bone. I screamed and in one mighty swoop, our ritual swords connected and held. She was a force, to be sure, and while we were both injured, I was stronger and fresh off a practice from a pro. I angled the crook of my bent sword to hers and yanked as hard as I could.
Evelyn’s sword somersaulted in the air, as if in slow motion. I put my hand out, charged with the power of generations of Geraghtys, and the grip of her sword crashed into my palm.
Then she went for the baby.
I dropped my own damaged sword, yanked the athame from my leg, and charged.
But I was too late. Evelyn scooped her up before I could reach them and ran to the edge of the drop-off. A chunk of earth cracked off the edge and spilled over the side, tiny pebbles chasing after it. For a moment, I was terrified she’d lose her footing and they would tumble together into the abyss.
I held both weapons and edged closer to her. “Evelyn, I don’t know why you’re doing this, and I don’t care. Just give me the baby and I’ll let you walk out of here alive.”
She sneered at me. “How about a trade, Seeker. Give me the amulet and I’ll release the child.”
I swallowed hard. How did she know about the locket? About me as the Seeker? And if she was the shifter, didn’t she have it?
“Don’t hesitate too long. I’m feeling faint, and my arms are tired.” She bounced the baby in the air.
“I don’t have it.”
She cocked her head, disbelieving. “Oh really?”
The baby kicked her tiny feet, squirming.
“I swear to you, it was stolen.”
She considered this for a moment. “So th
at’s why you didn’t have it last night. How very unfortunate.”
So she was the one who accosted me. But who else? There had been two of them, I was certain. One taller than Evelyn. I recalled a husky voice. “That was you?”
“Yes it was me. A mother does desperate things when she’s trying to save the life of her son.” She held the baby up, peered into her eyes.
The other assailant was tall, strong. “So it was your son who helped you then.” I inched forward and she jerked.
“Stay back!”
I halted. “Evelyn, please, you don’t want to do this.” My palms were growing clammy. Fear I’d never known was crawling under my skin, crackling along my nerves like an electric shock.
“Of course I do. Your family has stolen enough from mine over the years, Stacy Justice. Now it’s time to steal something from yours. It’s the only way to stop them.”
A breeze blew through the space then, crisp and cool as a fall moon. A drum beat drifted from one of the passageways.
I stepped back, hoping the move would draw her forward. If I could get her away from the edge, I might have a chance to strike. “Whatever you think my family stole from you doesn’t concern her.”
She balked. “It most certainly does. This goes back farther than any of us. And it concerns all the future generations.”
I had no idea what the hell she was talking about. I dug into the earth with her sword, hoping to distract her. “Evelyn, please, just give her to me. We can work this out. Nothing is written in stone.”
She ignored me, didn’t even look my way as she swayed the baby in her arms, staring at her face. The waves below crashed into rocks, the water growing angry, heated.
“Did you know that twenty years ago, I was the Seeker?” She finally said.
This floored me, and my balance faltered, my leg throbbing. I flicked my eyes to Evelyn’s foot, wondering if her injury was as severe as I thought. I hoped not. Not with her holding the baby so close to the edge. “No.” I wondered if Birdie knew this bit of information. But she hadn’t been a member of the Council then. She wouldn’t have been privy to that knowledge.
Phantom Quartz: A Stacy Justice Witch Mystery Book 6 (Stacy Justice Magical Mysteries) Page 18
