Steve was talking. Blathering on about how he’d only gone to the apartment to talk to Ishmael, but something had taken control over him. It must have been the ghost of his father. Blah blah blah. I couldn’t even hear him over the pounding of my pulse in my ears. The guy wanted me to believe he wasn’t really a monster? I’d just seen him maim and possibly kill four of my friends. I was tempted to use my remaining strength to spit on him again, or headbutt him. But I needed to stay calm and keep thinking.
Where was that darn ghost?
Something moved over near Bentley’s crumpled, broken body. Ishmael? No. It was Bentley, slowly moving one hand. He wasn’t reaching for the gun, though. He was unbuttoning his collar. He was reaching in under his shirt. And then he was pulling out the talisman he wore on the chain around his neck.
The bullet.
Only it wasn’t a bullet.
I blinked, the world swirled then settled around me, and the true form came into view.
His talisman was a vial of red liquid.
All at once, I realized what he was about to do.
“Bentley,” I said. “Don’t!”
The iguammit who had me pinned stopped whining. Dark eyes bore into me. With his face looming over mine, Steve breathed hot, cinnamon breath into my nose and mouth. “Nice try, witch. You want me to turn my head to see what the human detective is doing, and then what? You hit me with something?”
“You got me,” I lied. “Bentley isn’t doing anything you need to be concerned about. Nope. Nothing at all.”
But Bentley was doing something. And if my suspicions were right, it would be of utmost concern to the killer who had me pinned.
Chapter 33
The bullet that was not a bullet went into Bentley’s mouth, where he cracked it open with his teeth.
It wasn’t a bullet because it was made of glass. It was a vial. A clear, glass vial. And that vial held something red.
What is red?
Cherry cheesecake sauce is red.
So are a variety of candies and juices.
And blood.
Don’t forget blood.
And especially don’t forget the kind of blood that comes from the dark veins of a creature of the grave.
That’s the kind of blood that transforms a human being into something else.
Bentley was a lump of broken angles and pain, biting through a glass vial of dark blood.
Then the iguammit shifted, and its tawny lion’s shoulder blocked my view of the detective.
I felt wind across my face. Wind inside a sealed cafeteria several stories underground. Magical wind.
When the beast above me shifted again to lick my face, I saw that the space where Bentley had been was now empty except for a pool of blood. And then, in a blink of the eye, the pool of blood was gone. The magic of his transformation must have done something. I’d seen so many strange things, yet it took me several seconds to process what was happening. The blood must have magically wicked back into the detective’s body.
The world was turning black. I couldn’t breathe—hadn’t been able to for some time already, thanks to the weight of the beast on top of me, but it was only now taking effect.
Steve was still whining, still pleading innocent. “If I hadn’t taken out Ishmael, he would have been a liability to the department. A guy like that can’t be counted on. He was insecure, a braggart.”
“Shut up,” I managed to say. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it already. I can’t... listen... to...”
He stared down at me with incredulity in his large, black eyes. The blackness around his head was seeping toward the center of my vision. The weight grew even heavier on my chest, and the blackness closed in. I couldn’t see anything.
But for a brief moment, I could still hear. I heard everything.
The janitor was whimpering behind something in the kitchen, talking to someone on a phone, or maybe praying to whatever gods he still believed in.
Charlize was groaning, breathing heavily as she pushed herself up.
And something went click. It went click, and then it went bang. My face was hit with something hot. Even as I lost consciousness, I knew it was blood. The iguammit’s blood. And I knew Bentley had pulled the trigger.
As I pulled away from the pain and the confusion, down into the ocean of calm, I knew something else.
That night in the cafeteria, Bentley—the Bentley I knew and had even come to like—died.
He died to save me.
* * *
I regained consciousness shortly after Charlize and Bentley shoved the corpse of the beast off me.
He was dead, they reassured me. “You can’t be too careful,” I growled, and kicked him a few times to be sure.
Next, I turned my attention to the two great birds who lay tangled in each other’s broken wings. My hands should have been tingling with healing powers but I felt nothing. It wasn’t from the physical attack. My powers were still grounded.
I lifted my face to the ceiling, where I assumed the cameras were located. “Codex, lift the dampener field on the cafeteria,” I said. “I need to—” My voice choked in my throat. Was there any use? Was there enough life still in Rob and Knox for me to try? They couldn’t shift back to human form while injured.
The voice replied, as I knew it would. “The cafeteria is under lockdown.”
I felt a cool hand on my shoulder. Charlize’s hand. “I can turn them to stone,” she said. “It’s like putting them in suspended animation.” She looked at them, grimaced, and quickly looked away. “It’ll be hard on their systems, but... it’s protocol whenever there’s a grave injury in the field and I’m on the team. It’s my job.”
I took a step back. Hoarsely, I said, “Do your job.”
* * *
The rest of the night was a blur. Backup eventually burst through the door, nearly shooting me in their confusion.
Charlize went with the granite birds to the medical bay, leaving me to explain why there was a dead chimera with the body of a lion and the head of an iguana lying on top of a smashed cherry cheesecake.
I turned to Bentley for corroboration of my story, but there was no Bentley. He was gone. Vanished into thin air. I looked up at the broken artificial windows. One was still shattered, but the other three were semi-functional, showing the most beautiful sunset.
* * *
When I got home that night, around midnight, Ishmael Greyson was standing on my porch. He had a packed suitcase at his side, and a rifle slung over his back.
“What are you up to?” I asked. “Don’t tell me you’re going on some hunting expedition in the afterlife.”
He grinned.
“I guess you can’t tell me anything, can you?”
He shrugged, picked up the suitcase, and vanished in a flash of light.
“Send me a postcard,” I said to the empty porch. Then I thought of something my aunt and I had talked about before her vacation. About how people always ask for postcards but nobody really likes getting them. “Or not,” I said to the stillness.
Chapter 34
I slept through most of Saturday.
By Sunday afternoon, life happily returned to what passed for normal in the Riddle household. Except it wasn’t truly a regular Sunday.
It was the one day a year that, to me in particular, was not like the others.
Thirty-three years had passed since my birth.
Friday had been my fake birthday, but now the real one was upon us. July 24th. Smack-dab in the middle of summer. The perfect time for backyard parties. I had so many fond memories of water balloon wars staged between an army of preteen girls led by me versus a smaller band of teen boys led by my friend Nash. Such innocent days those had been, when none of the girls cared how many calories were in cupcake icing and the worst thing that happened was a lost contact lens.
In honor of the special day, my mother and Zinnia called me together with a video chat. They were overseas, so it was as close to in-person as they w
ere going to get. I took the call in bed, since I hadn’t gotten up yet. They worked out the time difference and gave me a hard time for sleeping in. Then my mother gave one of her almost-apologies.
“Such a shame we couldn’t be there,” Zirconia Riddle said, making a tsk-tsk sound.
“You’ve missed six of my birthdays in a row,” I said.
The former redhead who now had ebony hair rolled her pretty eyes. “It’s not polite to keep score.”
Zinnia elbowed my mother and pushed in so her own face filled my screen. “What my sister is trying to say is we are sorry to miss your birthday.” She winced and bit her lip in a girlish gesture I hadn’t seen my aunt do much. “Promise you’ll do something special to celebrate yourself, Zara. Birthdays are important. We ought not let them pass by without notice.”
“This one won’t pass by without notice.” I smiled at the screen. “Zoey has arranged for a very special cake.”
Zinnia blinked repeatedly. “But that’s not terribly special. The two of you eat cake nearly every day.”
My mother widened her eyes in horror, making the hollows below her cheekbones even darker. “Oh, Zara. Tell me it’s not true. Cake every day?”
I pressed my lips together and said nothing. Protesting that we didn’t have cake every day, since sometimes we ate pie, was not going to help my situation. I kept my mouth shut and received the lecture from my mother, calmly and gratefully. I’d missed her nagging during the years she was allegedly dead.
We talked for a while, about nothing in particular. Seeing their look-alike faces side by side, the long red hair mingling with the long black hair, filled me with love and longing. I lied and told them I didn’t mind that they were gallivanting around Europe without me. It was good for them to have their sister time and space to catch up with each other.
My mother abruptly asked, “What about Teddy?” Teddy was what she called Bentley. Teddy, or even Teddy B.
If I’d had hackles, they would have gone up. “What about him?”
My undead mother narrowed her hazel eyes at me. “Something has happened with him.”
“What makes you say that?” I felt a twinge of guilt over not calling her the moment I got home late Friday. I should have let her know that Bentley must have opened the “gift” she’d left him.
She used one pale, bony finger to stroke the indentation between her collarbones. “Call it a sixth sense. A mother’s intuition.”
Zinnia leaned half out of frame and gave her older sister a puzzled look. Zinnia didn’t know about Bentley, or what had happened. But my mother did. She knew darn well.
I gave her what I thought was a mature look. “Mother, why would you ask a question when you already know the answer?” I caught sight of my face in the small window and winced. My mature look was the same one my teen daughter gave me during her rare bratty moments.
We stared off as best we could, considering the computer’s camera was offset from our actual eyes by several inches. My mother was much better than I was at frowning fixedly at the tiny camera hole.
Zinnia broke in. “What’s going on with Bentley? Have you started dating him, Zara? It’s about time you moved on from the shifter. Their kind doesn’t mix well with ours. The detective is a much more appropriate choice for you.”
“Ew,” I said. “I’m not interested in my mother’s exes.”
“He’s not my ex,” my mother said. “Although...” Her thin, dark eyebrows almost touched. “If Teddy has done what I sense he has, then he’s sort of like a brother to you now.”
Zinnia’s eyes flew wide open. “What?”
My mother turned to her sister and explained, “Before I left town, I gave Teddy B a vial of my blood, concentrated in a lab by Dr. Ankh. I obscured most of his memory, but left him with explicit instructions to break the glass in case of an emergency.” She touched one of her upper incisors casually. “I sense that the vial has been opened.” She looked directly at me through the camera. “Trouble unsealed,” she said ominously.
Zinnia’s hands flew to her mouth. “Bentley’s a vampire?”
“What?” I gave my mother an even brattier look. “Zinnia can say the V-word, but I can’t? That’s not fair. If you’re going to glamour me, you should glamour everyone in the family.”
Zinnia gave me a dumbfounded look. “Zara, what happened?”
I shrugged. “There was a shootout at the O.K. Corral, so to speak.” I waved my hand. “Everyone survived.”
My mother gave me a dark look. There was something besides anger in her eyes. Sadness. She quickly looked away.
She didn’t have to say it. I knew what she was thinking. Not everyone had survived.
Zinnia peppered me with questions. I started at the beginning, seven days ago, and explained everything that had happened since Ishmael Greyson’s first ghostly visit. I skipped over the key fact that I’d rezoned myself so that Ishmael couldn’t interact by possessing me. We could discuss that when my mentor returned to town. I also left out my first broom flight with Maisy Nix, and how much I knew about the coven.
When I got to the end, Zinnia was leaning in so close to the camera, her face filled my screen. “What about Charlize? And the other agents?”
“They’re okay,” I reported. “I talked to Charlize already this morning. Everyone’s going to make a full recovery.”
Zinnia shook her head. “I hope this has taught you a lesson about being more careful.”
My mother pushed her out of the way. “Zara, you should have a vial, too,” she said. “I will FedEx one to you.”
“Gross! Don’t you dare FedEx me your... Ugh.” I made a gagging face.
The two sisters turned to each other. They exchanged a look that said What are we supposed to do about Zara?
“I’m fine,” I said. “Everybody’s fine here. I even sent Bentley a text message inviting him to come join us for cake tonight. Does that make you happy?”
They turned to face me and sighed in unison.
“It’s a Black Forest cake,” I said. “From Gingerbread House. Zoey arranged it with Chloe, who made it for me personally.” I scratched my chin self-consciously. “She made it with an orange liqueur filling instead of the usual stuff. For some reason, I’ve lost my appetite for cherry filling.”
Diplomatically, my aunt said, “That was very considerate of Chloe. I feel better knowing you have some good friends there with you. Friends are important.”
“Indeed,” I said. “As important as birthdays.”
“Indeed,” she agreed.
My mother said nothing. Her gaze drifted upward. She stared into the distance dreamily while she traced a vertical line over her breastbone.
The three of us continued to talk for a while, but the conversation had already ended.
When it came time to end the call, Zinnia teared up, exactly as I knew she would. The tougher they act, the harder they fall.
When the connection clicked off and my laptop’s screen went black, I struggled to keep my own eyes dry.
Why so emotional? Maybe because I was catching up to Zinnia in years. Was it aging that made people sentimental? Did all the small losses of life accumulate in such a way that one emotional tug could cause an avalanche?
I closed the laptop. In the silence, the weight of everything that had happened threatened to crash down on me. I could have easily slid back down under the covers and slept my birthday away. Instead, I cast a spell to whip my covers away, and I got up to face my birthday.
* * *
Zoey and I set the dining room table in preparation for my intimate party. Chloe would be arriving with the cake, accompanied by her sister Charlize. If Bentley showed up, there would be five of us. I hadn’t invited my coworkers. I adored them, but I also saw plenty of them during the week. Chloe had baked two cakes so I could bring one to the library on Monday for a belated celebration.
As I set out five placemats, I found myself humming.
Zoey picked up the placemats I’d just set do
wn, made a tsk-tsk sound, and unfurled a festive striped tablecloth over the table’s scratched and dented surface.
While she smoothed out the wrinkles with her hands, she asked, “Where do you think he went?”
“Heaven, maybe.” I used magic to take back the placemats and resettle them. “If there are Hell worlds, there must be Heaven worlds. Unicorns and rainbows must come from somewhere.” I remembered the ghost’s rifle. “He’d better not be shooting unicorns, wherever he went.”
“I didn’t mean Ishmael Greyson,” she said.
“Oh. You meant Bentley?” I checked my phone. “Speaking of whom, he hasn’t gotten back to me about coming for cake tonight. Oh, well! More cake for us.”
She frowned. “But seriously. Where do you think he went after he shot that guy in the cafeteria?”
“Honestly, I don’t know where he skulked off to after the... transformation. Don’t they like graves? After we’re finished eating birthday cake, you and I can go for a moonlight stroll by the cemetery. We can check for fresh dirt.”
She gave me a pained look. “Mom, you’re being very offensive to their kind.”
“I make jokes, Zoey. Dark humor jokes. To help everyone deal with the horrors that are visited upon us every single day. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s sort of my thing.”
“I may have noticed that about you,” she said coolly. “But where do you think he went?”
“In my wildest fantasy, he snuck out of the cafeteria and went straight to the computer mainframe room where he gave Codex a lobotomy.” I clenched my fists, remembering the frustration of being without my magic. “If I’d had my powers, nobody would have gotten hurt that night.”
“Mom, you can’t save everyone all the time.”
“Why not?”
She gave me a blank look.
“I’m serious,” I said. “If I’m not supposed to be saving everyone all the time, then why do I have these amazing powers?”
“Nobody is supposed to be doing anything. Don’t you believe in free will?”
“Hmm.” I reached up and swept away a stray cobweb from the chandelier.
Wardens of Wisteria (Wisteria Witches Mysteries - Daybreak Book 1) Page 26
