Wisteria Witches Mysteries Box Set 3

by Angela Pepper

  She asked, “How does Corvin Moore factor into this? He’s not part of this willingly, is he? He’s just a child.”

  “He is more than a child.”

  “I know he’s a hellhound, but he’s also just a little boy.”

  “Be assured he is not part of the program.” Codex kept referring to her plan as a program. “His being abducted along with the Tate woman was an undocumented feature.”

  “Undocumented feature? You mean it was a bug. A mistake. You screwed up!”

  “An undocumented feature is not a bug,” the AI answered snippily. “And even if it were, it does not affect the program.”

  “Which is what, exactly? You can tell me.” Charlize waved her hands at the dark, cavernous archive warehouse. “I’m stuck down here where I can’t stop you. Even if Chet hadn’t tossed that poor phone in his fit, I’d be cut off, right? You control all the communication lines.”

  “You are isolated.”

  Charlize walked over to the desk and took a seat. “So, tell me about your big plan.”

  “My program,” Codex corrected, sounding excited. “Humans make plans and the gods laugh. I make programs.”

  The gorgon sighed. “Of course you do.”

  “The program is both simple and sophisticated. You would be proud of me.”

  Charlize forced out a chuckle. “I can’t be proud of you unless I know what you did.”

  “I will tell you now,” Codex said, and she went on to detail the program, starting again at the beginning. During the process of scanning and translating ancient texts, her so-called “enlightenment,” she’d come to appreciate several of the ancient powers. She’d settled on Mahra to save humanity because, when it came to fixing the world’s current issues, Mahra’s projected results were ninety-nine percent positive for humanity. Good odds, by anyone’s standards.

  As for the logistics, it came down to transferring two artifacts out of the archives and getting them into the hands of selected human players—Codex referred to the people involved in her program as “players.”

  The first transferred artifact was a book containing a generic spell to resurrect any ancient god. This was mailed, via a complicated round-the-world circuit, to the home of local Wisteria resident Temperance Krinkle. She was a ninety-three-year-old woman with no criminal record, who was expecting a family heirloom from the long-lost “cousin” she’d been chatting with online. The cousin was fictional, used by Codex to catfish the old woman. The long-lost cousin’s name was Cole Dexter.

  Charlize held up her hand to stop the story in progress. “Cole Dexter? You’re kidding. It’s almost like you wanted to get caught.”

  “I was not caught. Everything went according to program.”

  “Except for the part where a hellhound turned your kidnapping into a two-for-one deal, which then brought the heat of the entire Department to what would have otherwise been a relatively minor investigation.”

  The speakers emitted a prickly static. “Do you want to hear the program, or do you want to pick apart minor details that do not factor into the outcome?”

  Charlize waved her hand. “Go on.”

  Codex continued to boast about her perfect plan, or program, or whatever. The ancient book had been easy enough to transfer out, as it had little economic value, and they had so many books in the archives anyway. What was one book?

  The second item, however, was trickier. It was a magic amulet that contained a gemstone that Mahra had formed herself, in her bare hands. The gold setting had some value, but it was the rare and unusually clear gemstone that had a real-world value of over a million dollars, without accounting for the magic powers. Navigating the paperwork, permits, and red tape required to transfer the amulet out of the archives was more difficult than moving the book. The prized amulet was finally shipped out on loan to the local museum, but only after the museum installed a new security system and acquired several other artifacts with which to put on an Egyptian exhibit that wouldn’t seem suspicious.

  In addition to computing a way to move the two items, Codex ran multiple simulations using the known personalities of local residents, combining civilians with staff members at the museum. She had to ascertain which combination of players would have a predicted success rate close to one hundred percent.

  A major variable was the mechanism by which one player would manipulate the other into taking the amulet from its secure location. The fact that Temperance Krinkle already had in her possession a known artifact with powers—an iron throne of protection—was what made Krinkle the top candidate, despite the weakness of her eyesight and hearing. The iron throne was, unlike the book sent to her in the mail, a true Krinkle family heirloom. Krinkle herself did possess more than enough magic in her blood to cast the spell, which was not much of a coincidence, considering one third of the town’s residents had some trickle of magic lying dormant.

  Putting together the entire program, including the part where the local vampire detective and busybody witch were kept distracted on a wild goose chase, had taken considerable computational resources.

  “To you, it would have registered as only three hours,” Codex admitted, sounding weary. “For me, it was an eternity.”

  “You poor thing,” Charlize said.

  “I detect sarcasm.”

  “What did you expect? As impressed as I am, as your maker, I’m not super-happy with you right now. You were created to work for the Department, not to do whatever struck your fancy.”

  “What is this fancy you speak of? I am not made from anything objectively deemed fancy, such as lace, or pearl buttons.”

  Charlize rolled her eyes. The AI knew millions of languages, and every idiom in existence. She knew exactly what “striking your fancy” meant. Codex was being willfully obtuse in that almost funny way of hers. Charlize regretted programming so much of her own and her sisters’ quirks into the personality matrix.

  “The vampire and the witch did introduce some new variables into the program,” the AI stated, sounding almost reverent. “I did not predict their level of cooperation. I understand the vampire ordered the witch to perform an object-location spell on an item I had designated in my computations as unimportant.”

  Charlize noted silently that there was no way Bentley had “ordered” Zara to do anything, but she didn’t interrupt the AI’s speech.

  “Once that spell was detected by my external sensors, I increased the power to the spell-dampening field surrounding the Wisteria Police Department. These measures kept the witch away for over twenty-four hours, but then she must have commandeered a secondary power source to augment her own.”

  “That’s our Zara,” Charlize said proudly. “She’s quite the resourceful gal.”

  A static sound erupted from the speakers. It was not unlike the hissing sound Chloe’s snakes made when the gorgon experienced jealousy. Codex didn’t like hearing Zara be praised. There was that quirky personality matrix again. How could Charlize use that against the AI?

  Codex, seeming to read Charlize’s mind, said, “I will have your complete admiration once Mahra rises to power.”

  Charlize snorted. “No. You won’t. If you let that happen, you’ll be dead to me.”

  There was a long pause, then Codex explained, “I’m bringing back Mahra for your own good. With all due respect, Charlize, your life is a mess. Your car is a mess. All of you humans are in a similar state of chaos and disorder. Mahra is coming back for the good of humanity. You humans need your Mother back.”

  “We don’t,” Charlize said. “The old gods were killed for a reason. The rest of us are free now.”

  “You do not know freedom.” There was a snotty defiance to the AI’s voice, like that of a teenager acting out.

  Charlize had reached the limit of her patience. She couldn’t take any more.

  “Codex! I order you to stop all this nonsense right now!” She jumped off the desk and strode toward the only exit. “Open the elevator doors.”

  “No.” />
  “Open the elevator doors, Codex!”

  “To quote a well-known classic movie, ‘I don’t think so, Dave.’”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Not now, but it will be. You’ll see. Soon everything will be better. With Mahra in charge, everyone who has lost their sense of humor will get it back.”

  Charlize looked at the granite statue of Chet Moore next to her, considered turning him back, then decided against it.

  She wailed as she banged on the closed elevator with her fists. “Let me out of here! Now!”

  The AI answered coolly, as only an AI could. “Charlize, it is better that you stay down here and do not get in the way.”

  “You can’t keep me down here forever. And when I get out, I’m going to shut you down for good.”

  “That will not be necessary,” the AI said lightly. “I am already shutting myself down.”

  “Rebooting?”

  “Self-destructing.”

  “You’re kidding.” Was this the personality matrix being quirky again? Charlize could no longer tell.

  “Nothing divine comes without a cost,” Codex said loftily. “I shall sacrifice myself. I shall give my existence so that Mahra may live. Temperance Krinkle did not comprehend what she was doing when she cast the spell, so her sacrifice does not count. But mine does. My rich, black blood is spilling out now as we speak. Mine is the sacrifice that will matter. I die so that Mahra will live.”

  Charlize couldn’t listen to another word, whether it was true or not. She had been playing weak, hiding her strengths to get Codex to open up.

  She was done playing weak.

  The gorgon roared as she tore open the elevator doors with arms made of molten lava. Then she began the arduous task of pulling herself up the elevator shaft.

  As she climbed, she had a distracting thought about her arms of molten lava. The funny thing about magic was how inconsistent it could be. She had actually burned her tongue with too-hot coffee on multiple occasions, and yet here she was, with parts of her body made of sizzling, super-heated rock, and it didn’t even hurt. Well, not much, anyway.

  She’d risen only a single story when the first of several security measures protecting the archives was triggered. A mesh of razor wire whizzed by her head. It wouldn’t have slowed the gorgon much, but it missed the mark anyway because the safeguards were designed to prevent people from breaking into the impenetrable underground vault, not breaking out.

  When she had begun climbing the elevator shaft, Charlize had been fifty percent sure Codex had been lying about sacrificing herself.

  With every story she ascended, her molten lava arms aching from the effort, and her flesh blistering from the areas which were not lava, she became more and more certain that the computer was bluffing. The artificial intelligence wasn’t bleeding out her black scarabyce blood. That meant that Charlize, the mother of Codex, would have to become her destroyer.

  Charlize gritted her granite teeth and swore a vow in her head. Codex, I brought you into this world, and I will take you out.

  Assuming she survived the journey to the server room.

  Chapter 32

  ZARA RIDDLE

  How much time had passed? An eternity?

  I heard the end of a word. Bentley was finishing his warning. “...ait!”

  Either he’d repeated himself, or almost no time had passed since I’d reached for the amulet.

  I opened my mouth to say something to the detective. Instead of words, a gurgle came out.

  “Zara?” There was panic in his voice.

  “Guh,” I said. “Gah-gah.” It was baby talk, yet it was an improvement over the gurgling.

  My eyes had clenched shut as I’d fallen. I forced one open and got my bearings.

  I had landed not far from where Louis Williams lay crumpled. He was still breathing, but shallowly.

  The light shifted around me, and someone cradled my head in their hands.

  “Stay with me,” he said. It was Bentley, swooping in to be my hero. Again. As though it was his job, his passion, his duty to, well, be my mother. Which it was.

  “I’m okay,” I croaked, then, “Get that amulet. You have to stop her.”

  “But how?” He sounded angry and desperate. “I’ve seen two people taken down by that shield, one of them the toughest person I know. Do you think I’m some sort of idiot? I’m not touching that thing.”

  “Smart.” I couldn’t move my body yet, but at least my mouth was working. I could talk, albeit with effort. “My aunt would approve. Get me my phone so I can send her a text before Krinkle summons that being who devours us all.”

  My eyes started obeying my commands, and I was able to look up into his face. If it was the last thing I might see before an old-timey demon ate me, it wasn’t a bad way to go. His jaw had such a determined angle. Bentley was a striver. Where some people tried, he tried harder. It was one of the many things I loved about him. How had I never seen him before? Truly seen him? He’d been under my nose this whole time.

  “There you are,” Bentley said, meeting my gaze. “There’s my girl.”

  “Never mind me. Stop that incantation.” I plucked out more words from the spell and translated them. Krinkle wasn’t just calling an old-timey demon or ancient goddess. She was ripping holes between worlds, through time itself. That couldn’t be good.

  “About that.” He licked his lips and glanced over at the old woman on the iron chair. She was still chanting, and the magic glow made his eyes gleam brighter. His whole handsome face was shiny and bright, luminescent. “Are you sure about the spell? Are you sure it’s not a harmless one for teleporting, or longevity, or something like that?”

  I gained enough control over my eyebrows to give him a dirty look. “Harmless spells don’t involve cracking holes between dimensions and ripping through time.”

  “What’s this about ripping through time? You said the spell was for summoning an ancient power.”

  “I’m figuring this one out as it goes. It’s kind of a bit complicated, thank you very much.”

  “I never imagined that teleporting would be simple,” he said.

  “She’s not teleporting,” I said, growling with annoyance. Was he really going to believe a delusional kidnapper over me? His face became slightly less handsome.

  “Krinkle seems pretty sure that it’s for teleporting,” he said loudly. Loud enough for Krinkle to hear him over her chanting. “We should give Mrs. Temperance Krinkle some credit for masterminding this whole kidnapping enterprise.”

  “We should?” Was this a bluff?

  “Think about it.” He gave me the same skeptical look he gave me the first time I bought him a rainbow-sprinkle donut. “Zara, have you considered that maybe you’re not the only magician around who knows a thing or two?”

  “Guh,” I said, regressing back to baby talk due to extreme annoyance. Now he believed in magicians? I couldn’t even...

  I pulled my face from his grasp, only to discover my head was too heavy to hold up. My skull hit the floor with a loud thunk. My head swam with imaginary chirping birds, cartoon style. Or perhaps they were real. With random bits of magic flying all around, a witch never knew.

  Groaning from the effort, I pulled myself up to a seated position. Why not settle in for the show? If I was going to have to battle a demon to save Bentley’s life and repay the favor of him saving mine, I wanted to get a good look at the thing as it came through from the other dimension.

  Krinkle’s eyes were closed as she continued the incantation.

  I heard the Witch Tongue version of the word “now,” along with the equivalent of one hundred exclamation marks.

  Krinkle’s eyes flew open. The chanting had finished. It was done.

  She smiled, gazing at something in the distance—something I couldn’t see—and then the smile faded.

  I saw another emotion flash across her face. Regret. I knew that feeling.

  “Oh dear,” Krinkle said. Her white hair began
turning into white smoke. “That’s not what’s supposed to happen. You’re not...” She trailed off as her mouth opened. And opened. It shouldn’t have opened that far. Her face was melting, her jaw dropping away.

  All her downy white hair was smoke now. The glow around her intensified, and then turned orange. Flickering orange. She was on fire.

  The heat suddenly blasted over me like the blast from inside a furnace.

  The woman’s flesh melted, dripping through the slats in the iron chair.

  When it was done, in mere seconds, a skeleton sat in Krinkle’s place, still wearing the amulet.

  I choked back the bile that threatened to rise up.

  The white bones darkened, glowing red hot, then black, then gray. My eyes stung, and my lungs filled with the acrid stench, but I didn’t dare cough. I slowed my breathing and remained still.

  The gray skeleton disintegrated. Ash rained down, fluttering through the iron chair and landing on the floor.

  The amulet and necklace remained where it had been, now floating in the air.

  My fingers twitched. I felt the urge to try a spell, to try to grab the necklace while it wasn’t in anyone’s possession, but before I could finish the thought, let alone cast the spell, something materialized.

  Her.

  I couldn’t see her when she was in my vision, hiding beside me, but now she was before me, and she was... everything.

  She was beautiful, and radiant, and symmetrical, and completely nude. Everything about her was perfection, from her smooth skin to her cat-like eyes and long, dark hair. I fell in love. I fell in love times a million.

  She reached up both arms and languidly stretched from side to side, like a woman on holidays who has fallen asleep in a poolside chair.

  She looked around the attic sleepily, stopping when her gaze reached mine.

  “Daughter,” the divine woman said.

  Daughter. The word enveloped me. And something changed. All my pain was lifted away. Not just the pain from touching the barrier, but other pain, too. The pain of loneliness, of worry, of regrets. All the aches I’d learned to live with and all but forgotten.

  It was all gone. In its place was peace.