Witch Me Luck

by K. J. Emrick

  Magical.

  What had that witch done to her boyfriend?

  There were several ways to determine if Belladonna had cast a spell that had affected Lucian. A few of the techniques she couldn’t do without her pouch of magic-enhancing herbs, which was in her purse, which she had left back in the dining room at their table. There were some she could do right here, though. They might tax her strength a little, but she didn’t care. She needed to know.

  She looked at him standing there, clutching his plaque to his chest, and the worry she could see in his eyes convinced her.

  “Lucian, let me ask you—”

  She never got the chance to finish her question.

  Behind them a door marked “private” and “security only” flew open and Roderick the security guard came stumbling out. He swayed to one side, and then to the other, and then put a hand up to the back of his head. He looked confused.

  When he brought his hand back around again, his fingers were slick with blood.

  Then he looked up at Lucian and Addie, his mouth working like he was trying to say something, and then his eyes rolled back until only the whites were showing. With a long sigh, he crumpled to the floor.

  Addie imagined she could feel the building shake when he did.

  “He’s hurt,” Lucian said, pointing out the obvious as he rushed over. He dropped his Distinguished Community Service Award to the floor and felt for a pulse with two fingers placed in the crook of Roderick’s neck. “He’s alive. Just unconscious. Somebody took down a guy this size… what could have done this?”

  Magic, was Addie’s first thought, which immediately put Belladonna at the top of her suspect list. Although, he’d been hit on the back of the head with a lot of force. That wasn’t a usual sign of magic. That usually meant somebody with a baseball bat or a lead pipe. There were spells that could do this, but they required a lot of power.

  Power, she reminded herself, which Belladonna apparently had in spades.

  “We should search that room,” Addie suggested, pointing to the open door. “He came out of there. I want to see if there’s anything that will tell us who did this. A weapon, blood, maybe even fingerprints.”

  “Let’s hope it’s that easy,” Lucian said to her. “We need to search the room, yes, but we need to call 911 first and get an ambulance started this way for Roderick.”

  “Great, except my phone is in my purse, and that’s back in the dining room.”

  “Mine too, in my jacket. There’s probably a landline phone in the security office. I’m going to stay with Roderick. Everybody will be done and filing out into the museum soon and I don’t want them trampling over him or crowding him with good intentions. Can you look for the phone?”

  “Of course.” There was so much they needed to talk about but all of that was going to have to wait now. The man lying on the floor needed their help right now. She should call Kiera, too, and let her know that Belladonna had been here. Willow too, if she wasn’t too busy with her boyfriend to answer the phone.

  “Addie?” Lucian said to her.

  “Yes?”

  “Be careful.”

  And just like that, she loved him all over again.

  For a brief second as she stepped through the open door of the security office she considered calling Alan’s father, too. Kiera’s ex-lover had given her a son, and just like Alan had come back into Kiera’s life, so too had his father. He wasn’t her first choice for an ally, but under the circumstances…

  Mephistopheles Smith was his name, or Philly, as he liked to be called. He was one of the most powerful beings on Earth. Certainly more powerful than Belladonna Nightshade. Fallen angels like him had the raw magic to outdo evil witches any day of the week.

  They were also unpredictable and had a habit of being selfish. If only he had agreed to help them stop Belladonna instead of refusing to get involved. They might have already driven her off or put her in witches prison—a place called Perdition, just to the left of Purgatory and a few steps north of Oblivion. Hardly anyone ever came back from there.

  Where Belladonna was concerned, that would suit Addie just fine.

  Well, she and Lucian had solved mysteries without the help of fallen angels before. They could do it now, too, if they had to.

  Addie stopped halfway into the office. It was a cramped space, with a desk off to the right with a couple of chairs on this side and a larger leather chair on the other for the on-duty security guard, then a couch against one wall, and several monitor screens on another.

  Addie could see a small bloodstain in front of a chair with its back to the door. This must have been where Roderick had been sitting when he was attacked. A compact refrigerator sat humming in the corner. Other than that, there wasn’t much here.

  Except for a now all too familiar sight which drove Addie’s blood cold. The sight of a woman lying dead on the floor. She was face down, but Addie recognized the purple dress and the hair dyed to match. Sheila Davenport.

  A knife was sticking out of her back, between her shoulder blades. The blood seeping out of the wound was a darker stain against the silky fabric of her dress.

  Addie threaded a little Essence through the air in a coiling line that brushed along the woman’s skin, just to be sure. Feeling for a pulse would have worked too, but this was a more certain result. Her magical senses left no doubt about it.

  Sheila Davenport was dead.

  CHAPTER 4

  “L adies and gentlemen,” Lucian said through the microphone on the podium. “If I can just have your patience, and your cooperation, I expect this situation to be resolved very shortly.”

  A general murmur arose from everyone sitting at the tables in the multipurpose room. The reception was over, and dinner as well, and now it was just a room full of people again. Questions came flying from every direction asking what was really going on, or wanting to know how that poor girl died, even a few less than polite requests to know how long they would have to stay here. Lucian hadn’t told them very much. Just enough for them to realize this was serious and that he had the situation under control.

  He assured them of that again and promised to get everyone home just as soon as he could. “In the meantime,” he continued, “we need you all to remain here in this room. No one can leave until we’ve taken everyone’s name and information. Again, the Birch Hollow Police Department thanks you for your understanding.”

  The murmurs in the crowd changed to groans and complaints. A few voices spoke up with more questions about what would happen if they needed to perform certain very specific bodily functions.

  Lucian waved his hands at the crowd. “We’ve thought of that, believe me. With us tonight is Officer Alex Candor, also from our hometown department. Stand up, Alex.”

  He did, a little reluctantly, and waved to the crowd. He was a short man, and he disappeared completely as he quickly sat back down again.

  “Anyone who needs to leave the room for a legitimate reason, you can find Alex and he’ll escort you. You will be required to return here when you have finished your… business. This is for your protection as much as for our procedures.”

  Addie tried not to show her reaction when he told everyone it was for their ‘protection.’ Even if Lucian hadn’t come right out and said it, everyone had to know the killer was still in the museum somewhere, which meant it was one of them. This only served to remind them that it wasn’t safe to walk around by themselves. A police escort, even an unarmed one, should keep everyone safe.

  If only she could tell them that she could protect them with the use of her magic. That would make them feel better. Or, send them screaming for the hills. One or the other.

  Stepping down from the podium even though there were still people with questions, Lucian waved them off and promised to tell them everything as soon as he could, and then he came straight over to Addie at the doorway.

  “Nice speech,” she told him as she took his hand in hers. “Do you really think this is going to
be resolved quickly?”

  “No,” he said, his voice lowered for her ears only. “Do you see all these people in this room? Every single one of them is a suspect until we can cross them off the list. Every. Single. One.”

  Addie nodded. She had done a quick head count and that came up to close to fifty people to take statement from. It certainly wasn’t going to be quick. Most of them had been right here the whole time, but there were several who she remembered wandering in and out of the room while the dinner was taking place. The only way to know for sure who had an alibi, and who didn’t, was to do good police interviews and check what everyone said against what everyone else said. It would be a mound of paperwork for somebody.

  Some days, Addie was definitely glad she was a witch, and not a police officer.

  As she looked around the room she found Abierta in her seat. She didn’t notice Addie, but that was all right. Abierta was one of the people who had left the room while everything was going on. With a frown, Addie had to admit that made her a suspect. Even more so, when she considered her friend’s true nature.

  There was somebody she didn’t see, however.

  “Did you notice who isn’t here?” Addie asked Lucian.

  “Yes,” he nodded. “Your worst enemy. Maybe I should have arrested her earlier.”

  “Instead of flirting with her? Yes, you should have.”

  “Not going to let that go anytime soon, are you?”

  She smiled at him, and that was all the answer he was going to get. “Is this everyone in the building?” It had occurred to her that these were the guests for the reception, but there were other people here. Marcelle, for instance, and the waiters, and the cooks who had prepared the meals. Their suspect list was growing.

  “That’s the same question I had,” Lucian said. “Obviously that security guy, Roderick, wasn’t in the dining room when Sheila was killed.”

  “Right, but we know he isn’t the killer. He was attacked, too.”

  “Do we really know that?” He shook his head, thinking out loud to himself. “He wouldn’t be the first person I’ve seen who faked an injury to avoid suspicion. No, he’s not off our suspect list yet.”

  Hmm. His way of thinking like a police officer had come up with a theory of the crime that she hadn’t even considered. “All right, I suppose Roderick could have done that. Although there would have to be a reason why he killed Sheila.”

  “Yup. There’s always a motive, no matter how good or bad. That’s where police work comes in. As to the question about who else was in the building… I know who can answer that. We have to go see Marcelle. He’ll be able to tell us who exactly was in the building other than the guests.”

  “And,” Addie said, picking up on what he wasn’t saying, “we’ll be able to ask him if he did this.”

  Lucian sighed. “Yeah. I hate to think that way because I’ve known Marcelle LeBlanc for years. He’s eccentric, sure, with that mustache and that hair and that French flair of his, but he’s always been a good friend.”

  “Did you know he had an ex-girlfriend?”

  “No,” Lucian had to admit. “No, I did not. I guess we never really know everything about the people in our lives, do we?”

  She slid her arms around his waist, wanting to be closer to him. “Do I know everything about you?”

  “Not yet.”

  His answer surprised her, and she looked deeper into his eyes. “What? Seriously, Lucian, you know my biggest secret. What are you still hiding from me?”

  He winked. “Later, maybe. It’s important to keep the romance alive in a relationship. A little mystery never hurt.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek, suppressing a smile. “As long as the romance doesn’t involve you secretly being a killer or a freaky stalker dude or somebody who collects their toenail clippings in a jar, then I agree.”

  “Good. Because I’m none of those things. Don’t worry, when we’re old and gray and we’ve spent the rest of our lives together, then we’ll have told all the stories we have to tell, and you’ll think I’m just a boring old man.”

  She laughed at how sweet he made it sound, but she remembered him saying there was a question he wanted to ask her. It was some big secret that was supposed to be for the end of their night, after he got his award and they were celebrating privately, just the two of them.

  A thought occurred to her, one that grew at the back of her mind until it seemed bigger than life. Could he… could it be… no, it couldn’t… or could it?

  Was he going to ask her to marry him?

  She pushed that whole thing down again, deep down inside her heart, and let it stir there. It was a wonderful, crazy, frightening thought and she didn’t know what to feel about it. There wasn’t time for it now, anyway, with the death of a girl in the museum to investigate.

  Oh, but she was definitely looking forward to getting him alone now!

  They went down the hallway, to the front entrance of the museum where a couple of other police officers had already arrived. They were guarding the door to keep anyone from going in or out. All the other entrances to the place were locked and alarmed with code boxes and only the museum curator had the combinations for them. In theory, no one could get out without them knowing it from this point forward.

  In fact, there was the museum curator now. Marcelle was sitting in a chair in the round foyer under the careful watch of the two officers.

  The hulking Roderick was there as well, in his own chair that strained to fit his waist between two curving arms. His head had been wrapped in heavy bandages. He was leaning back, feet kicked out, his eyes closed, and his hands folded over his lap.

  “Is he sleeping?” Addie asked Lucian.

  “No, Ma’am,” Roderick rumbled, never moving or opening his eyes. “I’m resting. Took quite the thump. Got my bell rung. Body’s got to rebuild itself from the inside.”

  Addie understood that. A lot of witchcraft was based on the concept of the energy of one’s soul being able to affect the reality of the world around us. Energy, once lost, had to be regained. Even Typics—for lack of a better word—knew the benefit of recharging their batteries.

  “Neither of them have made any calls,” one of the officers at the exit door said. “They haven’t moved from this room.”

  “Thanks,” Lucian told him. “All right, Chuck, Drake, can I get one of you to go in and help Alex in the multipurpose room? It’s down the hall, where all the dining tables are set up. There’s about fifty people in there who need to have initial interviews done. We need to know where all of them were, the whole night.”

  “I see,” the one officer, Chuck, spoke first. “No video cameras?”

  Lucian scowled as he gave his answer. “They turn them on during the day, when the museum is open, and then at night they only keep the exterior ones running. If somebody breaks in, they’ll catch the guy on camera. But if somebody commits a murder inside, we’re stuck doing it the old-fashioned way.”

  “That figures. Well, I’ll go help him down there. Anything comes up I’ll let you know.”

  “Good, thanks.”

  Lucian waited for Chuck to head down the hallway, then turned his attention on the two men in their chairs. “Guys, we have to talk.”

  Marcelle cleared his throat. “Now you are ready to accuse me of this crime, my old friend?”

  “We should talk somewhere private,” Lucian suggested. “Just you and me and Addie.”

  “Certainly. I know just the place.” He lifted an eyebrow at the revelation that Addie was going to be included in their private meeting, but he didn’t argue. He’d picked up on the special relationship between Lucian and her right from the start. “Follow me, s’il te plaît.”

  “Sure, Marcelle. Lead the way.” Turning back to Drake as the lone officer standing at the door, he motioned for him to stay and watch Roderick.

  Drake’s eyes bugged, looking at the size of the security guard, but he nodded. If David could take down Goliath, then certainly h
e could… well, he could call for backup.

  Besides the hall that led to the multipurpose room and the two hallways at the back that led into the museum itself, there was another one that led off the main foyer. It was dimly lit and narrower than the others and led to only two doors. One was an open supply closet, and the other had a frosted window that was labelled with the word “Curator.”

  Marcelle punched the combination into the number pad for the lock, and the door to his office buzzed open. Nice security here at the museum, Addie thought to herself. She had really been looking forward to seeing the exhibits inside, here on the main floor as well as the ones up the grand central staircase on the second floor, but she had the sinking feeling that it was going to have to wait for another day. Nobody was going to be in the mood to see dinosaur bones or meteorites now.

  “So,” Marcelle said, sitting down behind the desk. His name was on the little plastic rectangle perched at the edge. “You are here, I am here. What can I tell you?”

  “Did you do this?” Lucian asked bluntly.

  Marcelle’s face fell. “You have to ask me this, my friend?”

  “You know I do. Marcelle, I like you, but I’m still a police officer with a murder on my hands. I need you to tell me you had nothing to do with this. I need you to look me in the eye and say you didn’t kill your ex-girlfriend. She was obviously still hung up on you, and you obviously still hate her. I don’t know what happened between you two before, but I know what I saw today. The two of you were in a physical altercation not even an hour before she was killed.” He sighed, softening his tone. “I don’t know. Maybe if I’d done my job when that argument happened in the hallway, Sheila would still be alive now.”

  “No, no, no, no,” Marcelle argued. “I did not do this. Yes, I knew the victim. Yes, I did not like her, but no, no, a thousand times no, I did not hurt her!”

  “Well, then we need another suspect. Help us out, Marcelle. Who else was here? You, Roderick, Sheila, the guests and the servers. Was that everyone?”