Cover Spell (Ivy Grace Spell Series Book 2)

by T. A. Foster

  “This is a quick meeting. I won’t take much of your time. You all have one responsibility. Only one. Don’t talk to the press. No media contact. What. So. Ever.” She drew out the word and paused. “Just act normal, get your work done, and stay away from the reporters. We’ll update you when we have some information on Emmy Harper.” She folded her hands in front of her. “Ok, that’s it. You’re free to go.”

  The group mumbled and filed out of the conference room like herded sheep.

  Five minutes ago, the deafening hum of journalists, detectives, and hotel onlookers flowed through the nerve center of the hotel, and now the only sounds were from the front desk’s ringing phone and the low hum of the television. The press was banished, the police had dispersed, and the movie crew had retreated to his or her room. The spot where Evan and I sat yesterday afternoon on the faded yellow velvet couch was unoccupied. I waved down a waiter from the restaurant and asked him to deliver a cup of coffee to me. I nestled into the couch’s corner and waited.

  I watched the rain drip from the Hotel François window awnings and splatter droplets along the sidewalk, adding to the gloomy atmosphere hovering over everyone inside the hotel. Low muttering voices filtered throughout the lobby, and except for the occasional waiter, eager to refill my coffee, hours passed and no one ventured near my little station or me all day.

  The television news anchors scrolled through the same headline track every fifteen minutes. The meteorologists rapidly scanned their hands over the green rainstorm on the radar sweeping through the lower part of Louisiana. My eyes bounced between the revolving door and the TV. I wasn’t sure what or whom I was waiting for exactly: Evan, Emmy, or Finn. I just knew I had to wait.

  New Orleans, 1945

  With her tightly packed suitcase in hand, I trailed Josette down the dimly lit hall. I was impressed she had crammed so many outfits into one bag. She tiptoed past each room, hesitating in front of each of the doors before taking the next step. She turned the corner at the end of the hall to start her descent down the winding staircase. Expertly fastening her hat on her head, she hugged the railing closest to the wall. I watched as she stepped to avoid certain planks on the stairs. I guessed this was not her first time sneaking out of the house. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing. Following her lead, I placed my feet in the same spots as the beautiful, love-struck teenager, and silently made my way down the spiral stairs.

  The foyer was dark. Heavy, gilded oil paintings of the former consul generals lined the great hallway. A small brass plaque tacked under each frame identified each man. Josette rolled her eyes at the man in the first painting. I assumed it was her father, and recognized her pale blue eye in the portrait of a man featured in the rounded entrance of the embassy. I eyed the lineup of Frenchmen and thought about the quick introduction I had received about the history of the house.

  As my only escape to Holly’s persistent nagging, I booked a trip to New Orleans. She encouraged me to widen my travel radius and experiment with a more adventurous city. After Finn and I broke up, I started traveling more on weekends and working out the quirks in my Time Spell. I had always wanted to see New Orleans, and with no one soaking up my free time, she was right—it would be a great getaway.

  I looked up a bed and breakfast on Trip Advisor, and booked my stay for the historic home in the Garden District.

  Upon arrival, I was greeted by a cute white-haired couple, who had bought the home and spent a decade returning it to its original state. Over the years, the new owners had compiled a scrapbook on the history of the mansion and all of the French consul generals who had lived in the house. They were so proud of the house’s history. During cocktail hour, which consisted of one glass of wine and a cheese plate, they told me as many stories as they could fit into their designated thirty minutes of entertaining guests.

  “Oh dear, you wouldn’t believe the stories within these walls.” My hostess grabbed me on the elbow. “So many stories—such history.”

  “Mrs. Betts, the house is absolutely amazing.” I eyed the wainscoting bordering the drawing room. “What is your favorite story about the house?”

  Mrs. Betts looked at Mr. Betts and sighed. “It’s a legendary tale now.”

  “Really?” She had my interest piqued.

  The hostess launched into the tale. “There was a girl who lived here once. She was only in New Orleans for a couple of years before she disappeared. She was the daughter of one of the consul generals who lived here.”

  “Disappeared? What happened to her?” I clutched my wine glass.

  Mr. Betts put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “It’s hard to say. No one knows for sure, but the story is she ran off with a Navy boy.”

  “Wow. That sounds romantic. What a great story for the house. Do you have any pictures of her in your scrapbook? I’d love to see something.” I loved these kinds of stories.

  “This is the part of the story that is heartbreaking, dear,” Mrs. Betts interjected. “When her father, the consul, realized she was missing, the story is he destroyed all her pictures and packed up all of her things. It was as if she never existed. They say he went mad trying to find her. He resigned as consul general and devoted his life to finding her.”

  “But he never did?” I asked. This was a heart-wrenching story.

  “No. No one knows for sure what happened to the girl, and her father disappeared too. Maybe back to France, we’re not sure. But that’s when Consul Donatien came to the house. He was the last consul here before they moved the residence to another part of the city.” She pointed to a black-and-white picture on the wall of the house’s final government official.

  As Mrs. Betts rattled on about the parties and dinners the house had hosted since the 1800s, I thought about the girl she mentioned. I wanted to know what happened to her.

  When I was sure all of the other guests and my happy hosts were sleeping, I crept to the hall closet on my floor, locked the door from the inside, and Time Spelled to 1945. I didn’t know how to find the mystery girl, or if I could begin a search in the wide time continuum of the house’s history. Either luck or perceptive skill brought me to Josette the night of her escape. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. I needed to keep an eye on her next steps.

  I felt the girl’s resolve strengthen as she faced the painting of her father.

  “Au revoir, Papa,” she whispered.

  The crumpled magazine clipping of Acapulco peeped through her clenched fist. She held her chin up, pulled the suitcase to her side, and walked with her heels raised all the way down the hallway. I watched as she peeked around the corner of the next room.

  I had one eye ahead on Josette and one on the hall behind me. I heard the click, click of a turning doorknob. Nervously, I turned to see a tall man with gray hair, dressed in a dark pressed suit, observing Josette’s escape. A slow-rising uneasiness coiled around my stomach. I wanted to shout ahead to Josette to run, but I covered my mouth and waited for the man to pounce as the teenager fled through the kitchen. Expressionless eyes closed in on the suitcase as it bounced around the corner. Was he going to stop her? Surely, he could hear my heart beating faster as my panic level rose. Mrs. Betts said they didn’t know for certain what happened to the girl. Maybe I wasn’t witnessing an elopement; maybe it was a kidnapping, or something far worse. I couldn’t hold my breath much longer. The coil slackened when I saw the man bow his head and close the door. The coast was clear and I exhaled.

  I scurried around the corner in time to see Josette reach for the door’s handle, and look over her shoulder at the shadowy kitchen. Except for a tabby cat, lapping milk in a shallow saucer, the room was quiet. Josette pulled the door open, and a warm gust of wind swirled through the kitchen, kicking up the doormat and startling the cat. The sky flashed a few times with the ominous warning a storm was brewing in New Orleans. She held her hat to her head, and stepped into the night as rain pellets started to bombard the carefully pruned courtyard and kitchen herb garden. Josette wasn’
t going to turn around now. Rain, lightning, and wind wouldn’t stop her. Luke and a ticket to freedom were waiting for her.

  New Orleans, Present Day

  The sound of cowboy boots crossed the marble floor and brought me back to the present. With each approaching step, the memory of Josette and that stormy night seemed farther away. I jumped up to greet Evan as he walked through the lobby from the hotel’s side entrance. His eyes focused on the tips of his boots. He didn’t look up.

  “Hey, are you ok? How did everything go?” I asked.

  I approached him with concern. He seemed on edge. He didn’t smile. He looked tired and worried. In the short time I had known him, this was a side of him I didn’t think could possibly exist. He was one of the most fun and easygoing people I had met.

  “Hey, Ivy.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Yeah, I’m good. They had a lot of questions. Long day.”

  “Do you want to get some coffee or something? I could order food for you. You look like you could use something to eat.” All I wanted to do was give him a hug. Help him.

  I waited for Evan to smile or laugh in his carefree way. He reached forward and took my hand in his. He twined his fingers through mine and raised our hands in the air, almost how they were when we danced two nights ago. His warm gray eyes stayed locked on mine, but he looked lost. I wanted to do something to help him get some of the carefree, easiness back. I hated seeing him like this.

  “Ivy,” he barely whispered, and shook his head in what looked like defeat.

  I didn’t know what to do. It was as if he was sinking in quicksand right in front of me, and there was no branch to use to pull him free.

  “There you are. You ready for dinner?” Finn traipsed into the lobby and called across the blockade of couches and palms. Evan dropped my hand and looked at me quizzically.

  “Detective Delano, nice to see you again.”

  Evan reached across me to shake Finn’s hand as he walked up to join us. The mounting awkwardness was enough to make me want to run into the rain and away from both Finn and Evan.

  “Mr. Carlson.” Finn shook the Texan’s hand and coolly looked us over. “Ready, Ivy?”

  As much as I wanted to run, my feet were like cement blocks anchored to the Hotel François floor. Finn had one hand open, palm up, waiting. Evan’s eyes searched mine for some kind of explanation. How could I explain any of this?

  If I left with Finn now, any chance I had to move forward with Evan would shrivel into nothing, and if I stayed here with Evan, Finn might slip away for good.

  The once lighthearted actor looked so pitiful and helpless. I should stay to reassure him this whole situation would be over, and Emmy would be found safe and sound. However, my witchy tingle told me something else was at play with Emmy’s disappearance, and the pull toward Finn was strong. He was here to find her and maybe find us again too.

  In that moment, I made the only decision I could. It was the only choice I could live with tomorrow.

  “Finn, can you give me a minute?”

  He nodded and backed away a few paces before retrieving his phone. I had a feeling it was only a decoy distraction. He would be listening to every word.

  I smiled at Evan and resisted the urge to run my hand along his face. His perfect movie star face.

  “Sounds like a tough day. I’m sorry you had to go down to the station—that couldn’t have been easy—but I’m glad you’re ok. All of this is going to be ok.”

  “Really? I might have believed that five minutes ago.” He looked hurt.

  I deserved that, especially after I said I was available and now I didn’t look so available. It was complicated, and there was more at stake here than male ego. Emmy was most likely in danger.

  “Well, I hope you get some rest or something. I’m headed to dinner.” It was harder to smile at him now that he looked disappointed.

  I turned to Finn and enclosed my hand in his. “I’m ready.”

  Finn slid his arm around my waist and guided me away from the hunky movie star. I felt like I was in a trance as we walked across the lobby. Knowing Finn, there was a good chance I was actually in one. I glanced back at Evan over my shoulder and tried to smile. He was standing with his hands in his front pockets, watching me walk hand in hand with Finn, and walk away from the fun and easy time we had.

  FINN RETRIEVED an umbrella from inside his fitted jacket, and held it over my head as we walked down the sidewalk. He looked polished and sexy in his detective suit. I glanced around us to see if anyone other than me saw his cocky use of magic, but the sidewalk was clear.

  Part of me felt a little numb, part felt a little rage. I was having fun with Evan. He was easy to be with, and he was nice and cute, oh and a movie star. I’m sure eventually the paparazzi and constant fan attention would drive me crazy, but I had tiptoed into the infant stages of thinking about someone else. It was fun and flirty. It wasn’t complicated—yet. Didn’t all relationships become complicated? Nothing was easy with Finn or Jack. I sighed with regret, thinking about the number of steps I had just put between me and uncomplicated.

  “Was I interrupting something back there?” Finn stopped in the middle of the sidewalk a few blocks from the hotel. The rain ran off the back of the umbrella behind his head. “Because it looked like something.”

  I ignored his jealous prodding. I didn’t want to talk to him about Evan and I certainly didn’t want to stand in the rain. “I still don’t know why you’re here, Finn.” I huffed.

  “I told you. For you. I came because I want to be with you, babe.” His head tilted slightly, and his crystal eyes were chipping away at the barrier I had formed around my heart. A barrier he had forced me to build. “And I might have heard about your YouTube video.” He looked a little less playful and his voice sounded remorseful.

  “Are you serious? You orchestrated this entire trip because you saw me dancing with Evan Carlson? You’re jealous of him?” I didn’t want to admit it, but secretly I knew I had scored a personal victory by making my ex squirm with jealousy. He deserved it.

  Finn maneuvered us into a garden courtyard next to a quaint bistro whose brick walls were covered in a tangled mass of ivy. The rain continued to pool in puddles around our feet, but I didn’t care that my shoes were drenched and my hair was soaked. For once, I had his full attention and he wanted to talk. This was happening. However, I knew I couldn’t look into his eyes anymore and think properly, so I moved my gaze to the bubbling water splashing in the fountain next to us. Glimmering lights danced around the statues in the fountain as if they couldn’t decide on just one figure to illuminate. There was no doubt we were in New Orleans. Somewhere in the distance, a lone saxophone player launched haunting notes in the air only for them to fall in the space around us.

  “I can’t stand seeing you with someone else. The way you were laughing with him and dancing together. It wasn’t right. You’re mine,” he argued.

  I exhaled and corrected him. “Was yours. You had me. All of me. You’re the reason we’re over. Not me.” I kept my eyes cast toward the fountain and waited for Finn to respond.

  “I know. I ruined it. I ruined everything.” He put a hand under my chin and turned my gaze to meet his. “I want you to trust me again, Ivy. I want a chance. I still love you.”

  He had let the umbrella tip back enough so that rain fell between us. The air was so balmy I couldn’t tell which were tears and which were raindrops as I wiped my cheek.

  “You know it was like this that day?” I raised my eyes to the sky and the falling rain. “I woke up on a rainy day in Savannah, and you were gone and so was my ring. You took my ring. How do you expect me to get past that? How do I ever trust you?” I fought to force the rest of the words out. “Telling me it was a part of your Shadow Quest wasn’t enough. I deserved more from you than that. I don’t think I can even believe what you’re telling me right now.”

  Just saying it hurt, and my heart ached at the memory of that moment. The pain of losing Finn was always
a loosely locked-away memory I tried to shield myself from. I remembered how it felt when he was gone or how I really couldn’t feel anything at all. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t eat or sleep. It was like the other half of me was missing, and without him, I wasn’t me anymore. And in un-Ivy-like fashion, I didn’t fight for him. I just let him go. Part of me knew I could never hold on to Finn no matter how deeply every breath of me wanted him.

  In a way, once he was gone, I was relieved. I didn’t have to wait anymore for the moment he would walk out the door, and I’d finally have to face saying good-bye to him. Trying to hold on to a guy like Finn was like trying to keep running water in my hand. He was never going to stay for long.

  “I know. I know.” He stepped closer to me. “I’ve said I’m sorry a hundred times, and I’ll say it a hundred more. I never used the ring. I gave it to you as soon as you were back.”

  “Back? Because I had to drive myself home from Savannah in your car. Who does that? And this isn’t just about the ring.” I steamed.

  Thoughts of kicking him in the shins rose to the forefront of my mind. I didn’t want to rehash what had happened between us over two years ago. Somehow, I managed to coexist with Finn in Sullen’s Grove. He and my brother still worked together, and he had an uncanny way of staying in touch with Holly. We exchanged the occasional text and phone call every now and then, but I set strict limits for myself where he was concerned. My body betrayed what my mind told me to do. Finn was a magnetic pull to every fiber of my being, and being around him confused any logical decisions I made about him.

  There was no doubt there were unexpected benefits to every bad breakup. My body loved my daily runs and the three times a week yoga and Pilates routine. I caught up with my girlfriends, spent lots more time with Holly, and my parents adored having me at the beach house for the summer. Without Finn, I discovered my true passion. Setting him free freed us both. I loved writing and traveling. Would I be here working on my movie if Finn had stayed? Would I have become Ivy Grace, novelist and screenwriter, with Finn in my life? I knew the answer.