In spell casting I'd learned to mentally picture each step of the magic. I fixed the black feather in my mind. When the overhead lights went out, I blinked rapidly to force my eyes to see in the dark. The other wizards took shape as dark shadows. I focused on the black blob of the feather in front of me.
"Here's what I'm going to have you do." Wyatt's voice burst out of the gloom. "Stay seated. Each of you is to focus on the feather and move it toward yourself. Then shapeshift the feather into an object that is useful to you. When you're finished, call out."
I didn't look forward to his plan because I wasn't good at shapeshifting things. "What if I make a mistake and create an arrow that flies out and hits someone?"
"I have full capabilities of self-defense," said Linc.
"I'll knock it back at you," said Dawn.
"I'm here to help you, Petra," Wyatt reassured me. "I've enhanced my vision to see in the dark and will be watching for problems."
His voice had warmth in it, more like an encouraging yoga teacher than a strident aerobics coach. Maybe he wasn't one of those bossy cop types. My shapeshifting of objects tended to be erratic, so I needed all the help I could get.
I imagined the feather sliding toward me, whispered, "Move," and wiggled my fingers at it. The blob on the floor did inch forward. When it advanced a foot, I'd tensed up so much that I'd curled my toes. I frowned and squinted, as if that would sharpen my mental powers. The blob came within touching distance if I kicked out. Wyatt hadn't said how close it had it to be. I decided this was enough.
"I'm done!" called out Linc.
A spotlight flashed on and displayed Linc and his creation, the figure of a white cat. How was that useful to him?
He held up the figurine. "Cats are my good luck charm. My ideas are better when a cat's eyes are on me."
Dawn and I were in the dark, so Linc couldn't see the look of surprise on my face. As a wizard Linc must believe in magic, but I hadn't expected logical Linc to rely on the power of a totem. It made me like him better, knowing he had unexpected inner crevasses.
Wyatt flicked off the lights. What useful object should I make of my feather? The concentration required to move it had cramped my muscles and made my head pound. To avoid incapacitating myself further, I chose a simple form, a small wand.
"I did it!" Dawn called out in a perky voice.
I gawked at the small pitcher at Dawn's feet, illuminated by the spotlight.
"It's an egg separator." Dawn beamed. "The egg white goes through the slit below the lip, and the yolk stays inside."
"Brilliant. Great work." I waited till she picked up her treasure and gloated over it. "Wyatt, I need just a few more moments." The room darkened.
I did hope the blurry object near my feet was the feather, not a dust bunny. Time to create a wand. As I pointed at the blob and whispered, "Be a wand," I mentally pictured a thin straight rod. The blob jerked up and down, reminding me of a Mexican jumping bean. Oh no, do not let this thing turn into a rabbit. I should never have thought of a dust bunny. Wands. I had to fill my head with cylindrical items. Logs, legs, arms, tubes, pipes, rods, sticks, poles. With relief, I saw the feather stop jumping and form into what could be a shaft. Oh, no, Do not turn into a phallic object. Not. Not.
I wanted the blurry, cylindrical object to disappear. Why can't it just crumble or burst into flames? I started when the thing glowed red and shot off sparks. I shouldn't have thought of the word flame. The red rod rolled toward me. Before I could move, my familiar's tattoo prickled. I'd almost forgotten about him. Something dark flew off my arm and dived at the burning thing. I heard wings flap as the glowing cylinder rose and then crashed down onto the tile.
The lights of the room flicked on. Wyatt stared down at the remains. My familiar, a red-winged blackbird, scattered the debris with his beak and then landed on my knee and puffed out his red epaulets. To reward him for getting rid of whatever I'd created, I stretched out my finger so he could perch on it. He bobbed at me.
"Interesting," said Wyatt.
"Blaze, that's his name." My beacon.
Wyatt agreed with my request to give me a few moments with my familiar.
"B-waze," Blaze chirped.
I hoped that meant he accepted the name, although he needed to work on pronunciation. At last I had my familiar out and ready to be my helper and companion. He'd already proved his usefulness as a magician's assistant. But—I had to teach him how to work with me.
After having studied articles such as "How to Maximize the Use of Your Familiar," I'd prepared a plan of action for my familiar's training. If I remembered correctly, it had twenty-five steps. Way too elaborate in the midst of all the stress over Cullen's death. I boiled it down to keep it simple.
I lifted Blaze to eye level. "Here are the rules: Stay on your tattoo when I'm alone with Ira, when I'm eating or cooking, and when I tell you to, which will be in tense or crowded situations." He'd be a distraction. "It's okay to be out when I'm in my room, when I'm doing magic with a few people, and when I call you out. Okay?"
He fixed me with a beady black eye. "Ack."
I took that as short for "Acknowledged."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dawn and I fixed lunch. Blaze obeyed my request that he return to his tattoo. People don't like animals, even magical ones, around food.
In the kitchen Dawn used her powers to activate kitchen utensils. At her top form she could make spoons and whisks whirl in five different bowls. She also did potions that ranged from seasoning blends (Mexican Kick was a specialty) to customized brews (love potions were often requested). She'd landed in the ranch when, upset by the breakup of a romance, she'd botched a relax potion that caused her clients to belch, cackle, and bark uncontrollably.
Dawn had worked as a caterer, and I loved to cook, so we teamed up for meals. She took the role of chef, and I followed her orders. I prepped everything from garlic to chocolate for her creations. Today she handed me a grater and a block of cheddar. Eager to discover suspects other than myself, I schemed to work in a good gossip about who had a motive to kill Cullen.
The kitchen had yellow cupboards and a white floor, a cheery place to discuss a gruesome death. At the work station in the center, I did the cheese by hand, not sure enough of my ability to use magic on a sharp object like a grater, while Dawn poured olive oil into two large frying pans.
I rolled cheese shreds into a ball. "About Linc wanting a lawyer, I could give him some names of criminal law specialists."
"He can't afford a lawyer. He was asking because he thinks it's logical for him to worry." She seasoned a bowl of bite-sized chicken pieces with salt, pepper, garlic powder, and paprika. "Besides, he's not the only one Cullen messed with."
I popped the cheese ball into my mouth. "Why does Linc think the cops might focus on him?"
Dawn dumped the chicken into the pans, where it sizzled. "It started before you got here. Cullen wanted to show off, so he did some beautify spells on me." She patted her unruly hair and plump hips.
"What did he do?"
She measured barbecue sauce and honey into a bowl. When she mouthed something and circled her index finger, the ingredients, instead of blending together, erupted and spilled on the counter.
"Hey." I dabbed at the spilled sauce with a paper towel. "I didn't realize I was asking you about a traumatic event."
Dawn poured out more barbecue sauce and honey and stirred it with a whisk. "I'm supposed to be able to talk about the thing with Cullen. I'm attending counseling. I hate it when I ruin a spell." She tasted the mixture. "Someday I'll show you pictures of how Cullen fixed me up. I looked good." She nodded at the sauce. "Cullen made a move on me, but he's not my type. He went nuts, couldn't believe I turned him down. He thought he owned me because of making me pretty. He made up stories that I was a wild woman in bed. When I found out, I got mad and sounded off to Linc."
"Then Linc charged in to defend your honor?"
Her features softened into a dreamy smile. "He threate
ned to skin Cullen alive."
"So your romance with Linc started at that tender moment?"
Dawn poured the sauce on the chicken in the frying pans. "When Linc said he wanted me the way I looked before the spells, I knew he loved me for myself alone." She stirred the chicken until it heated and bubbled like her romance.
The Cullen-Dawn-Linc affair sounded messy and therefore real to me. "I thought Cullen was supposed to be spiritually awakened by REM. How could he have lied about you?"
"That was before Cullen saw the light. Wyatt had to work with him and Linc for weeks before they stopped snarling at each other." She wiggled her fingers and said, "Heat," which made the chicken bubble more intensely. Then she added five dashes of hot sauce. "Things had calmed down between them until two days ago. Linc heard Cullen talking bad about me to some other guys and grabbed him by the shirt." Her eyes glowed with pride as she described Linc defending her name. "Linc said he'd explode Cullen unless he shut up."
"I hate it how I miss stuff when I have to stay in my room and work on my appeals contracts." Or maybe Ira and I had been on the secret place on the porch. "Is that why Linc asked about a lawyer? People heard him threaten Cullen?"
She prodded the chicken, smashing bite-sized pieces into shreds. "I'm worried sick somebody will make a big deal about it to the cops."
"Cullen may have offended lots of people," I suggested. "Last night he irritated me when he offered to do a beautify spell, and others may have reacted the same. I bet the cops will have more suspects than Linc and me to concentrate on."
She placed flour tortillas on cookie sheets and spread the chicken mixture over them. The smell of the barbecue-sauced chicken made me so hungry that I wanted to eat a quesadilla before they crisped in the oven. Instead, I sprinkled cheese on the chicken. Once Dawn had put on the top tortillas, she slid the cookie sheets into the oven.
She said, "Spread," and flicked her fingers at an open container of sour cream. Rather than flowing into a serving bowl, it plopped onto the counter. "I have to stop messing up spells like that. I've got too much on my mind. Like, should I make sure the cops know about other people who had fights with Cullen?"
I pointed my index finger at the sour cream. "Flow into the bowl." It slid onto the floor in a blobby mess, just like my life. "Who are you going to tell them about?"
"I could tell them about Adrian."
Since magic hadn't worked, I cleaned up the sour cream with paper towels. "Adrian acts like Cullen was her best friend. Is she faking it?"
"When she and Cullen first started going to REM meetings, they got into a big fight. Cullen said it was wrong for her to use her shapeshifting powers to change her sex. He said she should have to go through the medical stuff like everyone else. She'd tried to deck Cullen, but staff stopped her."
I rinsed off the grater and watched pieces of cheese go down the drain. "How come I never heard about it?"
"What happens at REM stays at REM, but I'm not going to keep quiet if I can say things that will keep the cops away from Linc."
I loaded bowls of sour cream and cheese on a tray. Breaking my promise to Chris not to talk about Cullen had turned out to be a good idea. I'd already learned that Cullen's history was more complicated than I'd imagined. "How did Cullen and Adrian work their issues out?"
"Wyatt had them do stuff together until they got along."
"I hate trust-building exercises," I said. "They're insincere and corny."
Dawn peeked into the oven. "Oh no, I forgot to turn the heat on. I'm a train wreck today." She twirled knobs. "Let me make sure I'm doing the right thing. Is it a good idea for me to let the cops know about Adrian?"
Yes, yes, give them other suspects besides me. "Why not? If you don't rat on her, someone else will."
* * *
Toward the end of lunch, Vidoc announced that the cops had arrived and wanted to talk with me first.
I finished swallowing my idea of dessert, a tortilla chip loaded with salsa. "I'm not talking to them without my lawyer."
"I guess Detective Jonson knew you'd say that." He tapped Dawn on the shoulder. "Since Petra isn't available, the police will start with you. My office."
Dawn clamped onto my arm. "You come with me."
Vidoc led us to his office, where Protective Services Wizard Detective Jonson sat behind the ebony desk, her hand close to a tape recorder. Her white hair fell straight to her shoulders. Pale skin blended with her hair. Ruby lips slashed across her face.
At the sight of me, she looked like she'd swallowed something bitter. "Miss Rakowitz, are you going to agree to be interviewed?"
"I'm here as a support person for Dawn."
She pointed a slim finger at a pudgy man with hawk eyes. "Detective Brenner is the only witness I'll allow."
I couldn't agree with that. "Dawn has a right to have her lawyer with her."
"Are you her lawyer?" demanded Detective Jonson.
Before I could answer, Dawn let me go and burst out, "Let's get this over with. I don't need a lawyer. I'm just going to tell the truth."
Detective Jonson flashed her gleaming teeth at Dawn. "Miss Farilou, if you don't want to hire a lawyer, we can go ahead right now. Miss Rakowitz can wait outside."
Dawn nodded at me. "I don't want to drag this out. It's okay."
"Call if you need help. I'll keep my phone on." I'd been impulsive in agreeing to be with Dawn. It might look like I was trying to influence a witness. I had to keep reminding myself that I was a suspect as well as a lawyer.
CHAPTER NINE
In the garden outside the dining room, ferns on pedestals and in hanging baskets fanned out their leaves. Bougainvillea provided splashes of pink. Aloes sent out their spikes. On the patio mint, lavender, rosemary, and basil overflowed from containers.
After I ran my fingers over mint leaves to release the scent, I studied the back fence where a stone-cast bell hung. Every day after lunch the bell tolled once, a call to connect to the Mother of Mercy. Believers like Jake said it reminded them to renew their spirituality. Even for a non-believer like me, it invited a pause to reflect.
Artists created images of the chief goddess of the wizard community, everything from wide-hipped women to wispy girls in flowing gowns. Some believers discouraged specific representation. They held the Mother of Mercy formless in their hearts. Each person who saw her in Socorro in 1954 described her in a different way, although all spoke of a pulsing light. Secretly I visualized her as a cross between an Amazon warrior and Our Lady of Guadalupe, a woman of power and compassion.
Believers left offerings at the bell shrine. Today a sunflower and a rose wilted under the midday sun. I envied those who found comfort in her presence.
On the bench under the bell, Jake sat cross-legged. He had a blessing ritual every day, a time for him to share the presence of the Mother of Mercy. I'd watched, never participated.
When I sat next to him, he shut his eyes. A blue light glowed around him. I didn't expect the light to come to me, yet it flowed out of Jake's chest and into mine. Warmth moved down my limbs and softened muscles I hadn't realized I'd kept tense.
"Thanks for coming." Jake spoke in a soft tone.
"This is the first time the blue light has touched me. It feels good." I hoped it would happen again.
Jake lifted his hand, and the blue light faded away from us. "I asked our Lady to send you here. I need legal help."
"I thought I'd come on my own. Being sent by a goddess sounds intriguing." The Mother of Mercy believes in you, Chris had said. If I were a goddess, I'd have the power to make people do what I wanted.
Jake frowned as he rose from the bench. "I can't take time to mourn Cullen. I have to fight for the ranch. We're just starting to see how his murder will impact us."
"How do you need legal help?"
"Part of what I want is more personal. The Board has a law firm ready in case we're sued over Cullen's death. I want you to be my front liner on the rumor mill. Keep me up-to-date on the gossip about C
ullen's murder. I can trust you to be brutally honest."
"Thanks." I didn't know where he got his ideas about me. "But aren't you asking me to be a snitch? It's hard enough that I'm a lawyer, and people hate lawyers, and I'm the chief murder suspect, and you want me to be a tattletale." I stood up to face him, tired of looking up. "Am I being annoying?"
"You're being yourself. The point is I don't think the police will really find out what's going on here. As a resident you hear unguarded conversations. Promise that you'll tell me what people are saying about Cullen." He focused his eyes, softened to a golden brown, on me.
I locked on to his gaze, thinking he had some special message I needed to discover. Promise, whispered his voice inside my head. I hadn't yet managed to send out to other wizards a mind-to-mind communication.
Voices in my head disconcerted me, but I didn't hesitate to promise. "I'll keep you in the loop of secrets, lies, and backbiting."
"You're to report to me, not do anything risky," he admonished.
"I promise not to be stupid." I wrenched my eyes away, wondering if he was trying to tell me something more and I wasn't getting it. "I don't know if I'll have much to pass on since Adrian is probably making everyone hate me by saying I killed Cullen."
"Wyatt is counseling her on that issue."
"How did Wyatt happen to come on board so quickly?" I questioned.
"He knows all the staff and many of the students from doing REM groups. One of the Board members suggested bringing him in to show that we invite scrutiny."
"He helped me name my familiar this morning. Blaze." I smiled at the memory.
Jake looked pleased. "Great. I was worried when your familiar took so long to imprint. I hope his name means a blaze of light, not a torch of destruction. Have you had any other interactions with him?"
"No, except he did obey me when I told him to stay on his tattoo when I was in the kitchen. People don't like feathers in their food."
Murder Lifts the Spirits Page 4
