Ghost Magnet: A Haunting Urban Fantasy

by Lori Drake

  She swatted my hands away. “Nothing a little rest won’t cure.”

  “I’ll be back,” I told Trish and Mindi before following Cat back inside.

  The kitchen table held a variety of items I’d come to associate with Cat’s spellcasting. Stones and crystals, old books, and bundles of herbs littered the surface. Fragrant smoke still lingered in the air. A wooden spoon also sat on the table, and I didn’t have to look too closely to see a few strands of hair wound around the handle, secured with masking tape.

  “Is that…?” I pointed at the spoon.

  “The tracking focus? Yes. Any witch who holds it will be able to see the trail leading to Amber.”

  I consulted the clock on the wall. “Speaking of witches, any idea when the coven’s going to show up?”

  She shook her head. “No, but they will come. Trust in that.”

  My hands itched to reach for the spoon. I stuffed them in my pockets. I’d hoped that the coven would be here already when I got back from Amber’s place. If Cat had called them when I left… that meant it’d been nearly two hours since they’d gotten the call. How much longer could we afford to wait?

  Cat sighed and sank into a chair. “It’s your choice to make, child.”

  It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, that I wondered if she was a mind reader. “It’d be pretty stupid of me to go in there without magic backup, and there’s no way you’re well enough to go.”

  She shrugged. “Nonetheless…”

  “If I wait, she could die. If she’s not already dead.”

  “She is alive.” Cat nodded toward the table. “The spell wouldn’t have worked if she weren’t.”

  “Can I even use that thing?”

  “Yes. It will be different for you… You won’t see the trail. It’ll behave more like a dowsing rod, pointing the way.”

  I removed a hand from my pocket and reached for the spoon’s handle. Cat clicked her tongue in reproach, and I shifted to pick it up by the bowl instead. As soon as my fingers closed around it, it jerked my arm up and to the left, quivering in my hand as it pointed the way.

  It was both weird as hell and seriously fucking cool.

  “You think I should go,” I said.

  “Child, I’m not sure why you haven’t left yet. You don’t have a selfish bone in your body, and you certainly aren’t afraid to die.”

  “I have a few selfish bones,” I muttered, looking down the length of the spelled wooden rod. But she was right about the other thing. I wasn’t afraid of death. Hell, at this point I might even welcome it. I’d had one foot in the grave for nearly four years. If I was going down, it might as well be trying to save the living for once.

  23

  In case you were wondering, driving while holding a magic dowsing rod in one hand is no small feat. I tried to keep it below the dash. I wasn’t sure if a divining rod counted as a handheld device for the purposes of Seattle’s distracted driving laws, but I didn’t want to explain myself to any SPD officers, either.

  Speaking of distracted driving, Trish lit into me as soon as she figured out what I was up to, and she didn’t let up as I navigated the busy streets. It was rush hour, and traffic on the interstate wasn’t going anywhere, so I’d opted to stick to side streets as I circumnavigated I-5 and made my way northeast from Wallingford to Northgate. Chad Smith’s address was still plugged into the GPS, and it didn’t surprise me in the slightest that we were heading in his direction.

  Trish punched my arm. Apparently, I’d been tuning her out too long.

  “Ow, what?” With both hands occupied, I couldn’t even rub my arm.

  “I said, do you have a death wish? Is that it?”

  “What? No, of course not.” I sounded defensive even to myself. I snuck a glance in her direction and found her staring at me with narrowed eyes. I sighed. “I’ll be careful, okay?”

  “He’s a witch, Dean. A witch. And also, in case you forgot, a murderer!”

  I gripped the wheel more tightly. “I haven’t forgotten. That’s why it’s so important we stop him before he hurts Amber.”

  “How do you even know she’s still alive?”

  “Because this tracking spell wouldn’t work if she wasn’t. Look, I’m not going in empty-handed. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

  She folded her arms, unmoved. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

  “Cat gave me a few charms to help with magic defense.”

  “Will they protect you if he tries to boil your blood?”

  My eyes snapped to her, just long enough that I had to brake hard when I looked back and found the car in front of me had stopped. “What the hell makes you think he can do that?”

  “We don’t know what he can do. That’s my point.”

  “Point taken.” It took considerable effort not to snap at her. I didn’t need her playing devil’s advocate all the way to our destination. I needed to clear my head, focus, or something. “Why don’t you see if you can get to Amber now that we’re closer? If you can tell me about what I’m walking into, that’ll help.”

  “No. I’m not going to help you kill yourself.”

  “Trish…” It was no use. She was gone. I knew it without even glancing at the empty passenger seat. “Trish! Come on…”

  I pressed on alone. Twenty minutes later, I parked down the street from Chad Smith’s house, glad it wasn’t dark yet. Sure, broad daylight wasn’t the best time for skulking or covert operations, but between the chain-link fences, overgrown yards, cars up on blocks, and boarded-up abandoned houses, the neighborhood didn’t exactly scream safety. I locked the Jeep’s doors and hoped it was still there when I got back.

  You see, contrary to what Trish might have thought, I didn’t walk in there expecting to die. I knew it was a possibility, sure, but that wasn’t the point. The point was to rescue the girl, or at least keep her alive long enough for the cavalry to come charging in and finish the job. I couldn’t do either of those things dead.

  In an effort to be less conspicuous, I left the divining spoon in the Jeep but made sure the gun Cat had given me was still in my coat pocket. It wouldn’t do me any good there, but walking down the street carrying it would attract unwanted attention.

  Smith’s house was a small structure set back from the street and ringed by a chain-link fence. It’d been so long since the yard was mowed that weeds had grown through the fence, lacing through the diamond-shaped holes in a patchy thatch. The little red house didn’t look like much. It sagged slightly to one side, and the closer I got, the more the cracks and curls in the fading paint became apparent.

  I passed the house and kept walking until I got to a cross street a few doors down. Ringing the front bell didn’t seem like a good idea—if the bell even worked. No, I figured sneaking in the back was my best bet. Approaching the house from the rear, I saw a doghouse by the back steps, but no other evidence of a dog in the yard. The back gate squeaked as I let myself in. I froze, then hurried across the weedy backyard and up the steps to the back door. It was locked, of course, but before resorting to the lockpicks right away, I opted to try a few windows. I hit pay dirt. The window beside the door was unlocked, but it got stuck after only opening a few inches. I pulled harder, leaning close to peer in the window in search of a window lock that might be preventing it from opening fully.

  A little more elbow grease got the window open, but it made enough of a racket that I winced and counted to ten, listening carefully for any response from within before climbing inside. I had to jostle a wooden chair out of the way to climb in fully, but soon found myself in the kitchen. I closed the window but unlocked the door in case I needed to make a quick escape, then crept through the house with the trigger word for Cat’s shield charm repeating in my head.

  Things tend to go one of two ways with those who work in janitorial careers. Either they have zero fucks to give about their own living space, or they keep it as clean as their workplaces. Based on the dingy, unimpressive exterior of the house, I’d
expected the inside to be a sty. For once, I was glad to be wrong.

  The single-story house had only two bedrooms and one bathroom. The second bedroom had been converted into a weight room—though why someone who worked at a gym would need to work out at home, I’ll never know. There was no trace of Amber, and as I worked my way back to where I’d started, I regretted leaving the spelled spoon in the Jeep.

  She had to be there somewhere. But where? Under the floorboards? In the attic? A secret room? I backtracked, scanning for an attic hatch or any suspicious rugs, but again came up empty. I looked under the bed and inside every closet. I tapped the walls, listening for any hollow sounds that might suggest something behind them.

  I was just about ready to head back to the car for the spell when my spirit sense activated. I wasn’t alone anymore. The spirit waited for me in the kitchen, an elderly woman with curlers in her hair and a cigarette dangling limply from between her lips.

  “Hey. Don’t suppose you’ve seen a young woman around here?” I held up a hand. “About this tall, brown hair, possibly bound and gagged?”

  The spirit stared at me in silence. The cigarette between her lips lifted as she pursed her lips around it, sucking its spectral cherry to life. Smoke wisped up into the air. I could practically smell it.

  “Please?” I said.

  She plucked the cigarette from her mouth with gnarled fingers and held it aloft, cupping her elbow with her other hand. Her head twitched to the left, motioning at the pantry.

  I approached the door. “In here?”

  She smirked at me and exhaled a steady stream of smoke, then vanished.

  I’ll admit, I was skeptical. But I’d looked under the bed and in all the closets… Was the pantry any more far-fetched?

  I opened the door and found tidy shelves of canned and dry goods inside, but no Amber. But ghosts aren’t known for pranks. There had to be a reason why the old woman had pointed me in here, and it wasn’t for a fresh jar of peach preserves. I tugged on the pull chain dangling from the light fixture overhead and its bare bulb flared to life, bathing the small space in warm light. It was then that I noticed the darkened stairwell that started under the short column of shelves opposite the door.

  “Thank you,” I whispered into the air, knowing the spirit was gone, but grateful for her help nonetheless as I started down the stairs.

  The basement was dark, but in the light that spilled down from the pantry above, I was able to see a light switch on the wall near the foot of the stairs. The air grew staler and cooler as I descended, warped wooden stairs creaking under my weight no matter how lightly I sought to tread.

  I flipped the light switch and looked around as a fluorescent fixture on the low ceiling sputtered to life with a soft hum. Metal shelves lined the walls, stacked with meticulously labeled boxes. I found Amber straightaway, curled on her side upon a narrow, stained mattress on the floor. I hastened across the bare concrete floor and took a knee beside her.

  “Amber! Come on, wake up. The cavalry’s here.” I shook her shoulder, but there was no response. I pressed my fingers to her neck and found a sluggish but strong pulse. Other than a lump on her head, she had no other obvious injuries. She wasn’t even tied up, so obviously her captor hadn’t been worried about her getting up and walking out anytime soon.

  Her eyes finally dragged open, slow to focus on me. “Dean?”

  “There you are. You ready to get out of here?”

  “Where’s here?” She struggled to push herself up, but her head dipped and bobbed, like it was too heavy to hold up.

  “I’ll tell you all about it later. Let’s go.” I helped her to her feet, but her knees wobbled and she clung to me to remain upright. I scooped her up for expediency’s sake and made for the stairs, but as I reached the bottom step a noise upstairs stopped me in my tracks. Shifting Amber in my arms, I turned the basement light back off and held my breath, heart thudding in my ears as I strained to listen for any more sounds upstairs and tried to remember if I’d closed the pantry door behind me. Unlikely.

  “Dean?” Amber’s groggy murmur only ratcheted up my tension.

  “Shhh. Someone’s upstairs.” I could hear it now, the ceiling creaking under the weight of footsteps above us. Footsteps that were getting closer. Cursing inwardly, I backtracked to the mattress and lowered Amber onto it.

  She looked up at me in bleary-eyed confusion as I pulled the bracelet Cat had given me off and pressed it into her gloved hand.

  “Praesidio,” I said, fingers still touching the charm. A transparent wall of shimmering golden energy sprung up around us. Well, around Amber. It passed through me, which I would’ve expected to feel strange, but I didn’t feel anything at all. “Stay put.”

  She nodded in that exaggerated manner of someone still pretty out of it, but at least she was able to hold her head up by then.

  As soon as I removed my hand from Cat’s charm, the glittering shield vanished. Hoping it was still there, that my mundane eyes just couldn’t see it anymore, I scanned the dark room for somewhere to hide and retrieved Cat’s tiny pistol from my pocket. The damn thing only had two shots, but if I played my cards right, I wouldn’t need more than that.

  The stairs creaked as someone descended. I pressed myself as far into the corner adjacent to the top of the stairs as I could get.

  “Awake already, are we?” He stopped at the foot of the stairs and flicked on the light. I squinted against the glare. My eyes had barely re-adjusted to the darkness; a dull throb behind them suggested they were unhappy about the back and forth.

  Amber hugged her knees against her chest. “Leave me alone.” She was still slurring her words. Whether he’d drugged her or used some sort of spell on her, I couldn’t tell. The result was the same, either way. She was off her game, and I couldn’t rely on her for backup.

  If wishing could make one invisible, I would’ve been fully transparent by then. But Chad Smith—whose scarred face made his identity rather easy to confirm—didn’t spare a single glance in my direction. He ambled across the room, his back to me within seconds, and stopped a few feet away from Amber.

  “Silly, pretty girl,” he said. “That little circle won’t protect you. Not from what I have planned for you.”

  Confirmation that the circle was still there was a small comfort. I leveled Cat’s tiny gun and took aim at the murderous asshole’s back. I’m not usually the sort of guy that will shoot someone in the back, but for gutter trash like this, I was almost willing to make an exception. Almost.

  “Step away from the girl and put your hands in the air.”

  Chad stiffened, and smug satisfaction filled me. He’d had no idea I was there. Score one for the home team.

  He glanced over his shoulder at me. “I wondered if you might show up. But you’re no cop. Not with that little pea shooter.”

  “Even a small bullet hurts. Unless you want to find out how much, get your hands up.” I kept my voice level and willed my hand not to shake. I had no significant firearms training, much less experience staring down the muzzle of a gun at a real human being.

  Chad lifted his hands and turned to face me. His eyes unfocused briefly, and he tilted his head. I could practically feel the weight of his third eye on me. “You’re not a witch… but you’re not quite human either. What are you?”

  The revelation nearly derailed me, but I shook it off. “None of your damn business.” I motioned with the gun. “Get on your knees. Hands behind your head.”

  He smirked but did as I instructed. I got the feeling that he was humoring me more than anything. It left a sour taste in my mouth. I glanced past him to Amber, trying to figure out how to get her out of there without exposing both of us to his magic—which I wasn’t sure why he hadn’t tried to use yet. Cat’s circle was stationary, and I wasn’t sure if I could get Amber walking yet. I certainly couldn’t carry her and keep the gun pointed at Chad at the same time. And while a bullet between the eyes was better than he deserved for what he’d done to Kim
, Mindi, and possibly others we didn’t even know about… I wasn’t sure how I felt about being the executioner. I mean, for one, I’d never killed anyone before.

  Not intentionally, anyway.

  Surely the coven would be swooping in soon, so we could stay put and wait for them. But something told me I didn’t want to be in the line of fire if and when the witches started slinging magic around.

  “Amber, can you walk? It’s time to go.”

  She didn’t respond at first, then started to push herself up, like her world was on a five second delay. She managed to struggle to her feet but weaved unsteadily. I kept the gun trained on Chad and sidestepped along the wall toward the foot of the stairs.

  “Good job, now come over here and we’ll be on our way.” My eyes flicked between Amber and Chad, trying to keep an eye on them both while Amber stumbled around him, giving him a wide berth.

  Chad looked at her once she passed him and chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked, against my better judgement.

  “Both of you.” His eyes were cold as they settled on me once more. “You actually think you’re getting out of here alive.”

  It might have been his words that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, or maybe it was the way Amber slid across the floor as if shoved by an unseen force. She hit one of the shelving units hard enough for a box to tip over off the top, showering her with its contents.

  I did the only thing I could do. I pulled the trigger. For a small gun, the derringer made an impressively loud bang that reverberated off the concrete walls and floor. The bullet hit Chad’s left shoulder. He gasped in pain as his ugly mug twisted in a grimace. His focus shifted back to me, and a ball of fire sprung to life in his hand. The fireball grew from baseball to basketball-sized in mere seconds, and he flung it at me so fast that I barely had time to lift my hand and trigger the second charm Cat had given me.

  “Sorbere!” I cringed as the spell bore down on me, crackling with energy, radiating heat.