To Speak of Things Unseen (Hemstreet Witches Book 2)

by Rain Trueax

  They met whenever Mitch got to Tucson. From his great grandfather, he had learned the Apache way. Marcus taught him the warrior way. Robert Flynn’s home in the hills was their place for battling with swords. The swords and later bows and arrows used the alloy platinum osmirdium, which when forged by a wizard like Marcus, could destroy monsters and even demons.

  Finally, Marcus had said, “I’ve taught you all I can.”

  “I like meeting with you.”

  Marcus had smiled, an enigmatic smile. “We may meet again… someday.” When Mitch had learned of the motorcycle accident, which robbed the world of Marcus Hemstreet, he had not met Marcus for a few years, but felt a keen sense of personal loss. It had never been a friendship, but that of master and student.

  He wondered if Marcus would have approved of the book, or would he have shared the belief of Nantan Lupan. Perhaps he could have asked, as Mitch knew the spirits of the dead sometimes came back to help others. He didn’t ask. It would have been wrong. He had to bear the responsibility for his decision. He most definitely would not put any of it onto Marcus’ daughter or his family. He needed to keep Elke Hemstreet a long way from himself. She might be facing humans who accused her of being a purveyor of magick. There was worse out there.

  At the top of a ridge, Mitch stopped, Adolph had stayed at his side. The two looked out over the vast desert, the city and then the mountains beyond.

  “You are troubled,” Adolph said.

  “No.”

  “Do not lie to your friend.”

  “I’m not. I just was thinking back.”

  “To her father, I suppose.”

  Adolph had been with him when Marcus had come in and out of his life. Mitch didn’t actually know how old Adolph was, but it had to be old for a wolf. He hoped the supernatural aspect of his wolf would keep him young forever—or at least until Mitch himself crossed over. He grinned his own wolfish smile as he thought that was selfish, but so be it.

  “Your thoughts are dark,” Adolph said.

  “How old are you, my friend?”

  “Calculating it in your years… 105 but I am not an average wolf, you know.”

  “You were not much more than a pup when you came to me.”

  “Like yourself.”

  “I want us to grow old together. But I am not likely to grow old. I have painted a target on myself.”

  “We draw to us what we put out. Do you want to die early?”

  “I didn’t think so at one time.”

  “And now?”

  “And now, I don’t know.” He thought about Elke-- and what it might be like to be with a woman like her. He’d never had such a thought before. There’d been women but casual connections with neither wanting more. It didn’t matter. He’d not see her again. He would head for the Verde and his vineyard. It would be a better place to defend if this was heading as he believed.

  “When do we go?” Adolph asked obviously reading Mitch’s mind.

  “I need two days. So by Thursday, I guess.”

  “Not waiting for the new moon.”

  “No need to wait for it.”

  “Makes no difference to me.” Adolph snickered. “I don’t believe in astrology.”

  Mitch started back down the path. Neither did he. He wasn’t sure what he believed in. Maybe nothing. He wondered when that had happened. Maybe it was feeling as though it was a continual battle and nothing ever ended or worked out. Maybe it was realizing if a powerful sorcerer like Marcus Hemstreet could be killed in a fluke, meaningless accident, was there meaning in anything?

  Chapter Five

  Parking in front of her mother’s home, Elke saw that everyone else had already arrived. The phone call to meet had come as she drove back from the hill. What could be so important that the circle had been called? Once in the house, she was offered iced tea or lemonade by Celia, her mother’s cook.

  With a glass of iced tea, she went into the large living room. Her mother and both grandmothers were sitting on the sofa and from the sounds of it had been arguing. Denali was on the chair across from them and gave Elke a smile as she entered. Devi and Torre were standing by the fireplace and had also apparently been in private conversation. The only one missing was Aunt Rosa.

  “What is so important?” she asked as she took one of the chairs.

  “The demonstrations are growing,” her mother said. She handed Elke the newspaper with photos of the protestors only this time at the bookstore. “Apparently, they believe they drove you and Torre out of business, and the Black Cat is next.”

  “We are just taking a break and making some improvements,” Elke protested. Torre nodded as she sat in one of the chairs.

  “Maybe so but that’s not what they believe.”

  “Who is behind it?” Denali asked. “Does it relate to the murders?”

  “Unsolved murders or so they believe,” Elsa, her grandma Hemstreet, said.

  “And that started this?” It was impossible to provide a murderer after the justice they had dispersed on Braddock. Perhaps that had been an error.

  “An excuse, not a reason,” Denali said. “The police are not coming around to question Nick, which means they consider it closed.”

  “Naturally,” Torre said, “leaving the door open for a fanatic to use it.”

  “You didn’t believe we had done wrong at the time,” Denali protested.

  Torre shrugged. “I didn’t know how it would be used by someone.”

  “And the someone is?” Elke asked. She had spent a rather disturbing day and didn’t need more to worry about.

  “Most likely the minister who runs the church where these people are coming from,” her mother said. “Martin Jefferies has been growing his congregation with brimstone as his fuel. Faith in Action likely needed something more to bring in a lot of money and keep the energy high for his parishioners.”

  “Why us though?” Elke asked.

  “Enemies make for power,” Maria suggested.

  “Perhaps someone knows what we did to Braddock,” Elsa said.

  “More he did that to himself by the path he chose,” Jess spoke up. Being Maria’s mother, Elsa and she had neither been called grandmas. They also rarely agreed on anything.

  “That doesn’t help much now,” Elsa retorted.

  “We should not argue among ourselves,” Maria said. “I don’t know how seriously to take this. It might blow over. I thought we all needed to be prepared and of a same mind, so our energy will be more effective.”

  “Has Nick painted recently?” Elke asked, looking at Denali, thinking of the work she had seen at Mitchell Ford’s home.

  “Why would you ask?”

  “Because of the ones he did under the influence of Ornis.”

  Denali huffed. “That did not influence his work? But no, the demon has not bothered Nick, now that he understands what was happening. Nick may not be a wizard, but his skills are also powerful. He blocked Ornis, who is likely off causing mischief elsewhere.” She snorted her disdain.

  “Good thing one of you girls got that one,” Jess said with a wicked smile. “Wouldn’t want a man that handsome and talented getting away.”

  “With Gallery 11 gone, where will he show his work in Tucson, or will he?” Maria asked.

  “He and I have been discussing that. I think I found a building that will work. We neither wanted Gallery 11. Too many associations. I will manage the new one for him.”

  “What will you call it?” Torre asked.

  “We don’t know yet.”

  “I think that’s a great idea,” Elke said. “Where is the building?”

  “It was a warehouse, under the shadow of A Mountain. Lots of positive energy and parking. Not that the parking is more important than the energy.” She grinned. “We’ve been talking to an architect. I think it will have room for a lovely gallery space, after we get the lighting right. He will have a studio in the back and maybe some space for classes. He’d be a good teacher if he wants that.”

 
“When are you going to those openings? The ones you bought the dresses for?”

  “We leave Thursday but will fly back Monday.”

  “Mitchell Ford, the writer, had one of Nick’s paintings,” Elke said before she thought.

  “And how did you learn that?” her mother asked with one of those smiles.

  “I told you I wanted to convince him to let us make a play out of some of his book. Incidentally, he said no.”

  “Did he give a reason?” Elsa asked at the same time Torre asked, “What does he look like?”

  “He said the book drew negative to it, and he wasn’t going to be responsible for it hurting anyone else. And he’s handsome, rugged features, dark blond hair, quite tall, and very muscular.”

  “Yum,” Torre said with a grin. “And intelligent enough to write that book to go along with it.”

  “When you read the book, did you get the feel it wasn’t fiction?” Elsa asked. “I had a definite feeling that Adolfo Lupan existed and told his story to Mitchell Ford. Of course, I adored it and would love to see it as a film or a play.”

  “As things stand, it won’t be happening,” Elke said.

  “Did you tell him why you particularly wanted to do it?” her mother asked.

  “Not all of it.”

  “In other words, he doesn’t know you are a witch.”

  “It’s hard to say. We had a rather odd experience while I was there.” She described the lightning streaked boulder and then the shattered window. “It wasn’t lightning,” she said. “I was shocked by the second bolt, so soon after the first, or I’d have put up a protective shield. Mitch got some cuts out of it when he got me out of the way.”

  Maria grinned. “Sounds very heroic.”

  “You going to try again to convince him?” Elsa asked with the same grin the others had.

  “Maybe but likely it won’t work any better.”

  “If he’s that cute, I wouldn’t mind trying,” Torre said with a laugh. “Just to get his wine at a discount if nothing else.”

  “I hadn’t connected that,” Jess said. “He’s Vislogus wine then?”

  “Yes.” It appeared her family were more wine connoisseurs than she—not hard to be, of course.

  “We are losing track of our own problem, not that I mind discussing delicious wine or men,” Torre said, “but if Martin Jefferies’ church is behind our harassment, what is behind him?”

  “You mean who?”

  “Should one of us visit to check out the services?” Devi asked.

  Elke looked at her with surprise, as Devi tended to be the shy one. Was she volunteering to go into a church, which would obviously be very unwelcoming to a Hemstreet given what had been happening?

  “I’d go with you,” Elsa said with the kind of smile only she could give, half between a shark and a koala bear. Even experimenting in front of mirrors as a little girl, Elke had never mastered it. “I think it’d be fun.” Now the smile had turned pure shark.

  “You know they might kick you out,” her mother said.

  “If we went as us.” This time it was Devi, who grinned. Of course, they could go as any doppelganger they chose. Unless there were other witches already in the congregation or possibly sorcerers, they would never know.

  “Could be amusing,” their mother said. “All right, do it. Perfect week-end for it. With the new moon on Saturday and Lammas next Friday. This is a powerful time for a…” She stopped when the phone rang. Elke heard Celia get it.

  “Maria,” she said, “it’s that detective fellow.”

  Maria smiled and took the phone. She quit smiling as she listened. When she hung up, she said, “We have a problem.”

  “I heard,” Denali said, as Elke knew she often listened to both ends of a conversation. “Another murder of a woman.” Her face had whitened and her tone was bleak.

  “But the first murderer is incapable of doing it again,” Jess protested.

  “Copycat would be my guess and whoever did it, didn’t know that the original murderer has been incapacitated, which means a human—with no connection to the other side,” Denali said.

  “What happened this time?” Elke asked when her mother poured herself some wine.

  “A young woman, left naked and in the pose of the other two. Jace said they believe she been raped—or at least had had relations with a man before being beaten. The autopsy will determine cause of death.” Her mother took a big sip of the wine.

  “Do they know who she was?”

  “Deborah Johnson. Her purse was beside the body, and nothing had been taken, not even the money in it.”

  “Debbie Johnson?” Elke felt a chill go down her spine.

  “I suppose. Young, pretty, blonde.”

  “That is so tragic. I was just with her when we discussed the next play. I can’t believe…”

  “Where was her body found?” Denali asked. Elke could see her concern that they would be coming after Nick again.

  “They won’t think it’s Nick,” Torre argued.

  “They like things tidy,” Denali said with a grimace. “I was with him last night, but as his wife, I don’t know how much my word will count.”

  “You should go home to be with him in case they do come around,” Maria said.

  Denali rose. “All right, and when you know anything, let us know.” With that, she was out the door.

  Elke and the other sisters stayed for a late lunch while the grandmothers left with a promise they would consult their guides.

  “Tell us more about Mitchell Ford,” Torre said

  Before answering, Elke tasted the delicious tomato soup that Celia had made. “Not much to say. He’s got a beautiful home. Moroccan style. I was disappointed he wouldn’t let the play use a few scenes from his book. I showed him a rough idea of what it would look like. He did read it, but it didn’t persuade him.”

  “He’s not wrong about his concerns,” her mother said.

  “It’s what made it complicated.”

  “So, you’ve given up.”

  “No, I’ll work to put together the whole play and then go back.”

  “Maybe he needs to know who you are.”

  Elke looked up with surprise. “You mean a witch?”

  “He would understand better your need to help people understand magick comes in various forms, as does everything else.”

  “I’ll think about it.” She wasn’t sure it would help.

  Back at her home, Elke changed into shorts and a tank top before opening Vislogus to the scenes she wanted to use. She had written where Estella was arguing with Adolfo that he was not giving her enough time. When he tried to explain, she cut him off. Estella saw violence as always wrong. Though she didn’t appear to know all Adolfo was, she tore into what he had accomplished, forcing him to defend his actions—until he decided his only option where it came to her was to walk away. That scene only needed two people to make an interesting play.

  She wondered if Adolfo loved the woman, but they were so different as to make any other choice impossible. Turning the argument into dialogue, she heard the bell from below signaling someone wanted to come up.

  At the intercom, she said, “Identify yourself,” even as she recognized who it was.

  “Detective Myers. I have a few questions for you.”

  She sucked in a breath but pushed the button to release the bottom gate. She met him at her door. “I heard about Debbie’s murder at my mother’s. I guess that’s why you’re here.”

  He nodded. “I have talked to those who saw her last. David Jefferies mentioned you were one of those.”

  “I was. Can I get you something cold to drink? I have some lemonade, beer.”

  “Lemonade would be nice.”

  She got him a glass and then sat across from him in her living room. “I was in shock. I guess you hear that a lot when someone has just been with someone who was murdered.”

  “Do you recall who was there?” He took out a notepad.

  “Pamela Crosby, wh
o does makeup and costumes. Of course, David and Colette Ames.”

  “I think I’ve seen her in some plays. I was though not familiar with Deborah.”

  “I had the feeling she was new. I’d never met her or Colette. And then Chuck Carter, who David hoped to interest into becoming a leading man.”

  “I’ve seen him in some plays.”

  “Yeah.” She shook her head. “She was so young. Maybe not even twenty. Such a tragedy.”

  “Then I don’t suppose you knew any of her friends?”

  “Not at all.” She thought then of the resentment, Debbie had shown when Chuck had so quickly hit on her. She didn’t feel free to mention something so gossipy. Should she tell Jace about how Chuck had tried to grab her? She held off, feeling it might be unfair, after all, he had been drunk. Trying to kiss a woman was not remotely related to murdering one.

  “It might be the same killer we had several months ago.” He looked glum.

  “There was reason to think that?”

  “Similarities and differences.”

  “What about a copycat?” She couldn’t tell Jace why she knew for certain it was not the same killer.

  “That is possible, of course. Your lemonade is good.” He smiled and for the first time Elke wondered if he had come to her as an excuse to probe into whether her new brother-in-law, Nick Beringer, could be a serial killer.

  “I am a detective, you know,” she said. “If you’d like to bounce some of your ideas off me, I’d be glad to listen and share anything that comes to me.”

  “I didn’t know you still did that after you opened the boutique.”

  “Less of it, but for now the boutique is closed for… repairs.”

  “I heard about the protestors. You should have called the police.”

  “Freedom of speech, you know. They weren’t breaking any law.”

  “It could be regarded as harassment. Such things sometimes escalate, and we could come down and discourage that from happening.”